Hogwarts: Dumbledore reigned over the wizarding world.

Chapter 248 Vaughn: Don't worry, I guarantee you'll live!

Ron felt his guess was very likely, but Harry seemed to be in a daze and didn't respond to him at all.

"Are you really okay?"

"No!"

"Alright then, now that you're sober, I suggest you deal with your fan. He's been staring at us for a long time, and I'm scared of him staring at me."

"Well?"

Harry looked bewildered and followed Ron's finger. He saw a thin boy with gray hair holding a Muggle camera, staring at him with a burning gaze.

They looked like they were possessed, it was terrifying!

Seeing that Harry had finally noticed him, the boy blushed, but instead of leaving, he timidly walked over.

"Hello, Harry—Harry Potter!"

The boy, breathing heavily, introduced himself, "I, my name is Colin Creevey, a Gryffindor freshman, can I—I mean, can I ask to take a picture with you?"

The gray-haired boy, Colin Crevey, holds up the camera hanging around his neck with an expectant look on his face.

Harry was a little confused.

He quickly understood and sighed inwardly.

He noticed that the other person's gaze would occasionally sweep across his forehead; it seemed he was another guy who had been poisoned by savior stories.

Harry didn't like that feeling. Aside from a brief period of feeling a bit cocky at the beginning of last semester, he grew tired of it afterward.

The title of savior was not an honor at all, but a constant reminder that he had lost his parents on the night everyone praised him.

That not only saddened him, but also served as a stark reminder of how utterly incompetent he, this so-called savior, truly was.

Of course, there's no need to say these things. Others aren't mind readers, so why would they care about his thoughts?

Anyway, once you spend some time studying at Hogwarts, you'll naturally realize that the real Harry Potter is completely different from the hero in the story.

Therefore, he politely agreed to Colin Crevey's request. The reason for the latter's request was not entirely out of a desire to be a fan. Colin Crevey came from a Muggle family, and according to the information he stammered out, he was most likely from a single-parent family and didn't seem to have much money. As a Muggle, his father had very limited access to the magical world.

They can only read storybooks and the like.

So, after learning that Muggle photos could be animated after being developed with developing chemicals, Colin hoped to take some photos to show his father.

This naturally includes Harry Potter, the most famous storybook character he might come into contact with.

Harry couldn't refuse such a request.

It just feels pretty embarrassing.

Harry tried his best to mimic Vaughn's posture, getting up, putting his arm around Creevey's shoulder, and then, feigning composure, calling to Ron, "Ron, come help me!"

Ron curiously took the camera, teasing, "Just a photo? Why not take this opportunity to get an autograph or something?"

"Is that okay?" Krivie turned around in surprise.

Harry's face was practically burning: "Shut up, Ron, hurry up and take the picture!"

He noticed several Slytherin students looking over from the other side of the courtyard, including Draco Malfoy and his two henchmen.

Harry didn't want to be laughed at by that guy.

"Alright, alright, your face is big enough to fry an egg on, Harry. Let me see—how do I use this Muggle camera?"

Ron muttered to himself as he examined the Muggle machine in his hand. It looked quite old, but compared to the cameras in the magical world with their huge flashlights, it appeared small and sophisticated.

This left Ron with nowhere to strike.

Crevy watched Ron fiddling with the lens with trepidation: "You—you need to open the lens cap first, Mr. Weasley."

"Lens cap? How do I open it? Twist it or pull it off?"

"No, there's a button there—yes, yes, next—"

"Where's the electricity? I heard that Muggle machines need electricity to run, is it this one?"

"Mr. Weasley, this is a mechanical camera, it's out of power. That's the film compartment in the back, please don't open it—"

Crevy was horrified.

Fortunately, Hermione, who had been quietly reading nearby, couldn't resist any longer and snatched the camera away before Ron could open the film compartment.

"Hey!" Ron glared at him.

Hermione glared back: "Don't mess around if you don't know what you're doing! The film will be ruined if it gets exposed to light!"

Ron choked, realizing he had almost done something stupid.

The good news is that Hermione, who had been ignoring him, is now willing to talk to him again.

Ron tried to comfort himself.

In fact, Ron regretted his argument with Hermione not long after it started. He cherished his friendship with Harry and Hermione. He could brag to his heart's content in front of them without worrying about being exposed. He could joke and play around with them as equals without fear of being pranked or retaliated against.

What's more, they've been through so many dangers and difficulties together.

He was also very sad to see Hermione all alone these past few days.

Hermione is just another naive girl deceived by Vaughn's sweet words. She is a victim, and he shouldn't have hurt her self-esteem with harsh words.

How tragic!

She watched silently as Harry put his arm around Colin Creevey's shoulder, a stiff smile on his face, and watched Hermione take a picture and hand the camera back to Creevey.

As she turned to pack her books and leave, Ron leaned closer, speaking mysteriously: "Want to know about the practical lessons? Harry and I have some fresh, insider information that's absolutely not leaked!"

Hermione:

""

She rolled her eyes at Ron, speechless, and said without any mercy, "You'd better stop encouraging Ha to use his invisibility cloak for bad things. I've told you guys before, that thing isn't a magic bullet!"

Ron was shocked: "You—"

"You want to know how I know? I know far more than you think, Ronald. I know you guys wore invisibility cloaks to find the location of the practical class, and I also know that place is in a classroom—the world in the painting we experienced last semester—see, I'm not some silly girl who only knows how to be jealous, and Vaughn isn't the bad boy you say like who likes to fool little girls!"

Hermione straightened her snow-white neck, proudly raised her head, and tossed her hair as she left.

Ron was left dumbfounded, then enraged.

Harry dismissed Creevey and returned to find Ron furious: "—And I regretted it, even pitied her! She doesn't deserve pity! Just you wait, one day she'll come back crying!"

Seeing Ron's furious expression.

Although it wasn't a good idea to think that way, thoughts like "impotent rage" still flashed through Harry's mind.

For the rest of the time, Ron kept complaining to Hermione. Harry was a little tired and didn't want to deal with their conflict.

Anyway, Hermione seems to have gotten over her anger towards him.

He was still pondering what Vaughn was up to, hesitating whether to tell Ron his guesses. Of course, he was also hesitant because he couldn't bring himself to be hostile to Vaughn.

When he needed recognition and help the most, it was Vaughn who accepted him and even trained him in Occlumency.

Friendship, loyalty, and simple values ​​troubled Harry greatly.

Compared to his inner turmoil, the emotions of others seemed much simpler.

The entire lunch break was almost entirely focused on the practical lesson that was about to begin in the afternoon!

In the afternoon, the much-anticipated Defense Against the Dark Arts class arrived.

Even Harry, who was full of worries, could sense the restlessness among the others.

Just like in their first year, Gryffindor students still attend classes with their old rivals, Slytherin, for subjects like Defense Against the Dark Arts.

But the atmosphere was completely different.

Before class, the two houses would often have some friction. Slytherin thought Gryffindor was impulsive, stupid, and despicable, while Gryffindor thought Slytherin was dark, cunning, and shameless.

The two sides were like fire meeting oil; they might even fight while the professor wasn't around.

But today, everyone is being very well-behaved.

Tall, burly, and monstrous Crabbe and Goyle, standing around Malfoy, unusually discussed with the other students the practical course venue, monsters, and other elements.

Even Draco Malfoy, who had been gloomy since the start of the school year, showed a look of curiosity and anticipation, frequently glancing towards the classroom door.

The Gryffindor students were particularly enthusiastic about the discussion.

Dedicated wilderness survivalists and fire dragon enthusiasts Dean Thomas and Seamo Finigan have already made a bet with a licorice stick and a chocolate frog.

For second-year students who can't go to Hogsmeade on weekends, snacks are the hardest form of currency!

After an unknown amount of time, the classroom door suddenly opened, and the space, which had been bustling with noise just a moment ago, fell into silence.

The heads of the Gryffindor and Slytherin wizards, huddled together and almost indistinguishable from one another, turned curiously and expectantly toward the doorway.

Under that intense, almost viscous gaze, Professor Isabella Rozier, the "legendary" one, strode in.

Vaughn followed behind her.

Previously, everyone had only seen Professor Rozier at the opening banquet.

She was petite and slender, with a head of beautiful hair that shone like gold.

But her aura is by no means small.

She walked briskly through the crowd to the stage, and her first move was to wave her hand—all the young wizards could testify that they were staring at her intently, not seeing her use her wand at all, but rather making a strange gesture.

With a bang.

The lectern has disappeared!

"I don't need a lectern!"

Professor Rozier spoke in a high-pitched voice, her gaze sweeping over the young wizards, all of whom met her eyes, whether they were the self-proclaimed brave and fearless Gryffindors or the self-proclaimed noble Slytherins.

They all felt as if their eyes were being stung.

Sharp and intimidating!

"I've heard the rumors circulating in the castle lately. I don't know who first spread these rumors about the Practical Lessons (Harry and Ron in the audience instinctively lowered their heads), but all I want to say is—"

She paused.

The young wizards below the stage blinked, looking at her with nervousness, trepidation, and anticipation, remaining completely silent.

Isabella was pleased with her students' demeanor. She slightly softened the sharpness in her eyes and suddenly smiled, "I mean, those aren't rumors. From today onwards, my Defense Against the Dark Arts class will no longer require you to foolishly memorize, no longer consist of endless flipping through books, and you won't even have to huddle in this classroom anymore!"

"I want you to go out into the world! I want you to venture into the wilderness, into danger, beyond the rigid words and dull illustrations of books, to truly put knowledge into practice!"

"Yes, it's the practical lesson you've been talking about!"

After she finished speaking, the classroom fell silent for a moment.

Perhaps the rumors came true too suddenly, and everyone looked at each other as if in a dream, unable to react for a moment.

But it's okay.

Vaughn, who had been following behind Professor Rozier, clapped softly.

Soon, the awakened young wizards joined in clapping, and the classroom was filled with enthusiastic applause.

Although the reaction was a bit slow, the applause was actually very sincere.

Although strictly speaking, this was their first encounter with Professor Rozier (excluding the dinner party), compared to Quirinus Quirrell last year, or the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who, according to upperclassmen, had become increasingly incompetent over the past few years.

Professor Rozier has such a commanding presence from the very first word!

There was no stuttering, no dull recitation, and no unpleasant garlic smell.

She even bluntly stated that she wanted to abandon books and take everyone to the wilderness!

Dean Thomas and Seamus Finigan, standing in the crowd, clapped the most enthusiastically, cheering loudly.

"See what I said? Wilderness! Fire Dragon!"

"We're going to be rich, Dean! Your gambling idea is absolutely brilliant!"

"I learned that from watching football. My dad always buys tickets, Seymour. See, Muggles aren't all useless, right?"

"Yes, a genius Muggle!"

Dean seemed pleased. Suddenly remembering something, he turned to Seamus and asked, "By the way, Seamus, what should we do if we really face the fire dragon?"

"I----"

Simo's smile vanished abruptly.

More than one person was concerned about this question. As the applause continued for a while and then began to thin out, a Slytherin student raised his hand and asked, "Professor, where are the practical classes held? Are they dangerous? Are there fire-breathing dragons like the rumors say?"

There are many questions, but they are all issues that everyone cares about.

When asked, Isabella succinctly replied, "I'll take you to the classroom location in a bit. As for the danger—I can only say it's very dangerous. The bad news is there are no fire dragons. The good news is that there aren't any because fire dragons live in protected areas, and the approval process for borrowing them is too complicated, so we didn't need to. The even better news is that the practical class has magical creatures of the same level as fire dragons!"

So exciting!

A Gryffindor raised his hand, eagerly asking, "Professor, how many of those magical creatures are there? Will you teach us how to subdue them?"

Isabella blinked. "I'm not prepared to teach!"

"----ah?"

The buzzing discussion abruptly stopped.

The brave little lions and the noble little snakes looked at the sweet-looking professor on the podium in astonishment.

"Remember what I said? My Defense Against the Dark Arts class doesn't require you to flip through books, or use those rigid words and illustrations. Those are meaningless things to just read from the book."

Ignoring the astonished looks of the young wizards, Isabella said calmly, "In fact, after you graduate, most of the dangers and events you encounter will likely not give you the chance to look up books or recall them. All you'll have to use are your wands and the magic in your heads!"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts, as the name suggests, is a course that teaches you how to deal with dark magic. However, ever since the mysterious man cursed the course, we have to change the professor every year, resulting in varying quality among the professors. The course has changed its nature."

Isabella glanced at the audience and saw a book open in front of Hermione. She smiled slightly and gestured with her hand.

The textbook immediately flew into her hands.

She flipped through the pages, "Dragons, Yetis, Cornish elves—ha, if you didn't know better, you'd think we were in a magical creature conservation class!"

She waved her hand, and the book fell back to Hermione's feet.

The little girl's eyes widened.

Both because of her actions and because of the magic she used—Hermione had seen Vaughn use the silent, wandless spellcasting technique, and she was quite certain that Professor Rozier was not using it, but rather a completely different system of magic from England.

Isabella paid no attention to Hermione's scrutiny and curiosity.

Or perhaps she was deliberately using the hand gesture magic she learned from Vagado to enhance her mystique. She continued, "In a sense, magical creatures like dragons, yetis, and trolls are indeed part of the dark magic category, but dark magic isn't limited to them. It should also include poison curses, curses, and death curses. How do we deal with these things?"

"After a year of study, I believe you should all understand that those curses have no undoing—you should all have heard of the three most infamous and unforgivable curses among the Killing Curses!"

Before he finished speaking, a collective gasp filled the air.

Thanks to the mysterious man's extensive "popular science" efforts more than a decade ago, the Unforgivable Curse was far less famous before him. It was only after he wreaked havoc in the English wizarding world that the Unforgivable Curse became a tool to stop children from crying at night, and over the years, its effectiveness has been remarkable.

Seeing the young wizard's expression turn timid, Isabella tapped the table and raised her voice: "But! The lack of a counter-curse doesn't mean dark magic is invincible; otherwise, the course Defense Against the Dark Arts would be pointless!"

"In this course, we'll teach you about dangerous creatures and dangerous magic, just to let you know their characteristics and be careful not to fall into their traps and be at a disadvantage. True defense is actually offense—even the most insidious black magic requires a wizard to cast it. Similarly, defending against black magic means dealing with the person casting the black magic and the magical creature!"

"Therefore, offense is the true essence of Defense Against Dark Magic!"

Looking at Professor Rozier on the stage, who was sweet and gentle in appearance but excited and tough in emotion, like a warmonger.

The little lions and snakes in the audience had gone from being speechless to being dumbfounded.

"You can just read the books; I won't teach that. My course is all about offense, offense, offense! No restrictions on methods or strategies. If it can defeat the enemy, it's a good defense. What's the use of having extensive knowledge if you can't defeat them?"

I'll end with a statement that shatters my worldview.

Isabella, decisive and efficient, clapped her hands and urged, "Grab your wands, sling your backpacks over your shoulders, and get moving! I'm taking you to the practice area!"

The students in the classroom looked at each other in disbelief; their beliefs had just been shattered by Professor Rozier's words.

Completely lost and without any direction, he could only blindly follow the professor's instructions, packing his wand and bag and following behind the professor and Vaughn.

Everyone looked somewhat flustered.

Even Dean and Seymour, who were excited about "getting rich" just moments before, were no longer in the mood for excitement, nor did they have the energy to pay attention to the fact that Professor Rozier did not lead them out of the castle.

Instead, we went up the stairs to a door on the 5th floor.

She stood by the door, glanced back at the somewhat timid young wizards following behind her, and said seriously, "This classroom is the practice area. I must state that no one is allowed to come here without my or Vaughn Weasley's accompaniment. Also, there is a spell on the door that I have placed. Any attempt to break it will have consequences you cannot bear. Remember, this is not a joke!"

Her attitude made the young wizards even more nervous.

Pairs of eyes were fixed on her as she chanted a string of incomprehensible incantations, and in the flickering light, the door slowly opened.

Inside, there was profound darkness!

The classroom door, though seemingly ordinary, appears to separate two worlds.

This is a dimly lit but still fairly bright corridor. A damp breeze travels through the corridor, bringing warmth and the tranquil scent of grass and flowers unique to summer.

Behind the door lay a deep, silent world, utterly still.

Gudong!

Harry heard a series of loud swallowing sounds behind him, and then he realized that he had somehow ended up at the front of the line.

Professor Rozier, who had opened the door, and Vaughn were looking at him.

"Harry Potter, is that right?" Professor Rozier greeted him. "Although I've heard your name before, this is our first meeting. I'm already looking forward to teaching you. Come on, Harry, come inside!"

5

Suddenly, Harry wanted to turn around and run away.

But that was obviously impossible. Not to mention that Professor Rozier wasn't as easy to talk to as she looked, Vaughn was also there!

Harry, subconsciously recalling the grueling training he underwent last year, felt a sense of despair.

He stared intently at Vaughn, completely forgetting his earlier emotional turmoil and inexplicable wariness towards him: "There's no danger inside, right, Vaughn?"

Vaughn smiled: "Don't worry, the professor and I will protect your lives!"

'

'

This did nothing to comfort me!

Harry hesitated, reluctant to go in, and then—he was pushed!

Damn!

Which bastard is it?!

Before Harry could turn around and see who it was, darkness enveloped him, and he felt as if he had fallen into a huge pile of thick, sticky foam.

It felt as if my whole body was being sucked in, wrapped in a sticky, gelatinous substance, being pulled and falling!

After an unknown amount of time, a faint light suddenly burst forth from before my eyes.

He stumbled forward a few steps and fell to the ground. Then he saw soil, fallen leaves, low-lying grass tips with dewdrops, and the smell of soil and humus.

And, the bright moonlight!