On the morning of the second day of school, Harry had his long-awaited first Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
In order to avoid repeating the mistake of being late for the Transfiguration class on the first day, Harry pulled Ron out of bed early, walked over the steps that would suddenly disappear, and was the first to arrive at the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
"Harry, why did we come so early?" Ron complained as he lay on the table, yawning. "If you ask me, we should have gotten some more sleep."
"Fred and George told me that the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor can only teach us for a year at most. So no matter what kind of people these professors are, we will be fine as long as we can survive a year. We don't have to worry about them causing trouble at all!"
"That's not true, Ron!" Harry retorted immediately, "I met Professor Dracula when I bought a wand at Ollivanders. He was really tall and handsome, and most importantly, he was not afraid of Voldemort. Professor Dracula must be a very powerful wizard!"
Hearing the terrible name "Voldemort", Ron shuddered and immediately stopped feeling sleepy.
"I can't believe that, besides you, the one who defeated You-Know-Who, there are other wizards who are not afraid of him!" He opened his eyes wide in surprise.
While the two were talking, another little wizard walked into the classroom carrying a pile of books.
This is a little witch with long, messy, thick brown hair and a pair of big front teeth. She looks like an enlarged beaver.
"Harry Potter, Ron Weiss, here?" The little witch seemed a little surprised to see Harry and Ron arrive in the classroom before her. "Why are you here?"
"You mean to say that it's impossible for the two of us to get to class early, Granger?" Ron scowled, as if the idea of coming to class early was his.
"Oh, that's not what I meant." Hermione said, placing a pile of books in her arms on the table in the first row closest to the podium, "I'm just... a little surprised. You know, you did arrive a little late in the Transfiguration classroom yesterday."
Ron felt a little embarrassed and retorted stubbornly, "We were lost! Lost, you know?"
Just then, Harry pulled him.
Ron looked up and saw a strange wizard wearing a purple turban and with a pale face walked into the classroom and stood behind the desk.
"Is this the tall, handsome and powerful Professor Dracula you mentioned? Why does he look like he has kidney deficiency..." he complained to Harry in a low voice.
"I've also seen this professor in the Leaky Cauldron. He should be Professor Quirrell. Professor Dracula wouldn't be so weak." Harry said as he looked at Quirrell's trembling appearance.
Then, he said in confusion, "But Professor Dracula was clearly present at the opening banquet the night before yesterday. Why did Professor Quirrell come to teach us in the end?"
Ron stared at Quirrell carefully for a while, then sniffed: "Harry, do you smell a very strong and fragrant smell on Professor Quirrell?"
"I smelled it, too. I think I know what it is." Harry whispered, "This should be the smell of perfume. My uncle always sprays a lot of it on his face every time he meets a client. Although Professor Quirrell's scent is much stronger than what he sprays!"
"Why are you spraying this smelly stuff? I'm almost suffocating." Ron rolled his eyes and made a retching expression.
He carried his textbooks and slid to the last row of the classroom with Harry and sat down. Only then did he feel a little better.
"Maybe... men with kidney deficiency need this kind of thing to boost their confidence?" Harry guessed after finally catching his breath.
"… "
As the young wizards arrived at the classroom one after another, the Hogwarts clock tower rang the melodious school bell.
Quirrell spread out the lesson plan and stammered to the students:
"Good morning, everyone. I'm Mr. Quirrell. Today I'm here to teach you a Defense Against the Dark Arts class."
Harry, who had been enduring the unpleasant smell of perfume for a long time, immediately raised his hand.
"Mr. Porter?" Quirrell looked at him.
"Professor Quirrell, I want to know why Professor Dracula is not teaching us." Harry mustered up the courage and finished the whole sentence in one breath, then looked at Quirrell nervously.
Hearing Harry's question, the little wizards in the classroom looked at Quirrell hopefully.
Among them, the girls who were particularly fond of Dracula's appearance and the students who sat closer to Quirrell, the source of the perfume, were most looking forward to Professor Dracula coming to the classroom.
"Professor Dracula?" Quirrell was stunned for a moment, then he explained tremblingly, "After yesterday's teaching, he was very dissatisfied with the teaching at Hogwarts, so he asked me to take his place and teach for a few days."
There was a sudden wailing in the classroom.
Quirrell didn't care about that and started teaching diligently.
Of course, what he called lecturing was just reading out the contents of the textbooks and teaching materials haltingly, and from time to time he was frightened by some students' small movements under the podium.
In less than one class, Quirrell became the laughing stock of the young wizards in the two academies.
…
At this moment, Dracula, who allowed his teaching assistants to become his entertainment, was not in Hogwarts.
In the Opera Garnier House in Paris, all the audience watched the performance on the stage attentively, smiling knowingly from time to time.
The performance had just begun, but next to a white-haired old man, several audience members hurriedly left the theater as if they had suddenly thought of something urgent.
No one present noticed that a dark moon and the shadows of a few flying bats suddenly appeared in the empty space that had just been vacated.
The dark moon faded, and a silver-haired figure leaned lazily on the back of a luxurious chair, crossed his legs, and sat down next to the old man.
"Oh, Dracula, those audiences paid to watch the show." The old man turned his head and looked at the suddenly appeared vampire professor reproachfully, "Why did you use the Muggle-Repelling Charm to drive them away?"
"Whether they pay or not has nothing to do with me. I'm not you who has developed a habit of watching dramas over the years." Dracula curled his lips.
Then he sat up straight, "Old man, I came here to ask you, are you hiding something from me?"
"What is our relationship? Why would I hide this from you?" Nico looked innocent.
"You lent out the Philosopher's Stone that you depend on for survival, and you still don't hide it from me?!" Dracula couldn't help but raised his voice.
Nico was startled and quickly set up a soundproof spell around the area to trap Dracula's voice inside.
Then he looked at his best friend of several hundred years and complained unhappily:
"Albus, you are so good. You guessed it so quickly..."
…
…