Chapter 98: A Stir in Defense Class
However, Dumbledore didn't immediately appoint her as the teaching assistant. He still had tests to conduct with students from other grades.
Hoffa wasn't sure why he suddenly couldn't cast the Shield Charm. Perhaps it was due to his low magical reserves, or maybe his natural talent for Charms wasn't as strong as he had thought. The study of magic, after all, often involves an ineffable element of innate ability.
Nonetheless, Hoffa wasn't overly concerned about his failure to cast the charm. After all, it was his first attempt—he might just need more practice.
The morning of September 3rd began with the delivery of the Daily Prophet. This time, the paper bore a single striking headline:
"Britain and France Declare War on Germany."
The news caused an uproar in the Great Hall. No one was in the mood to eat.
If yesterday's invasion of Poland was just a prelude, today's declaration marked the arrival of the storm.
Upon seeing the news, Miranda's face turned pale, her mental presence visibly shaken. Hoffa couldn't help but fixate on her, though she managed to keep her emotions in check behind her glasses. Still, her trembling fingers betrayed her inner turmoil.
Aglaia, too, went pale. She murmured, "War...how many lives will be lost?"
Hoffa didn't respond, but he knew this was only the beginning.
After breakfast, the students buzzed with discussions about the war. Some were indignant, others worried. Some looked terrified, while a few appeared utterly lost. Among them was a solitary figure who seemed almost gleeful: the blond-haired Malfoy whom Hoffa had spotted earlier in Diagon Alley. Sitting at the Slytherin table, he loudly proclaimed, "The Muggle war has started. I say it's a good thing. Let them all die—it's about time we wizards reclaimed control of the world."
His voice carried across the hall, and Aglaia's face darkened as she quietly muttered, "Trash."
The trio—Hoffa, Miranda, and Aglaia—headed to their first class of the day: Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was a joint class for all four houses, held in a large tiered classroom on the third floor. Unlike the Defense classes fifty years later, the room's decor had remained unchanged for years. Its walls were lined with glass cases displaying all manner of dark creatures:
Flesh-eating dark elves.
Hollowed-out vampires.
Shrivelled werewolf corpses.
A troll towering to the ceiling.
Even dismembered Dementors.
Last year, Professor Mellis rarely taught proper defensive techniques. Most of the lessons consisted of storytelling to spark students' interest. But this year's syllabus was tenfold more demanding, covering the majority of the dark creatures displayed in the room.
As they entered the classroom, they spotted the blond-haired Malfoy perched on a desk at the Slytherin table, loudly spouting his opinions.
"Fools dying is no loss. These inferior creatures breed like rats anyway."
Tom Riddle stood nearby, arms crossed, his expression a mix of agreement and disdain. Nearby Hufflepuff students covered their ears, while Gryffindors glared at Malfoy with undisguised anger.
Malfoy remained undeterred, pointing to the headline about the declaration of war. "It's natural—lesser beings compensate for their weaknesses through overbreeding."
Before Hoffa could react, Aglaia's temper exploded. She whipped out her wand and shouted at the Slytherins, "Worthless scum!"
With her cry, a pale blue Blasting Curse shot forth.
Malfoy, quick on his feet, leaped off the desk to dodge. Others weren't as lucky—the curse shattered the desk, sending books and ink flying. Chaos erupted as the Slytherins jumped down, wands drawn.
"What's your problem?"
"Do you want to die?"
The air crackled with magical tension. Hoffa was stunned by the sudden outburst, surprised by Aglaia's fiery temper.
The blond-haired Malfoy glared at her, shouting, "You! A French half-blood causing trouble at Hogwarts?"
Aglaia sneered. "Can't resist showing off your brilliance, can you, you parasite? What else can you do besides spew nonsense?"
"Say that again!" Malfoy snarled, drawing his wand.
"I said, all you do is spew nonsense!"
Furious, Malfoy cast, "Petrificus Totalus!"
Aglaia retaliated, causing papers and quills to rise into the air and fold into sharp, arrow-like shapes aimed at Malfoy.
Tom Riddle stepped forward, arms still crossed, a faint smirk on his face. A peculiar mental force spread through the room, making the paper arrows disintegrate mid-air.
Boom!
Malfoy's spell struck a transparent shield and ricocheted, toppling another desk.
The room fell silent. The shield vanished, and Miranda lowered her wand with a neutral expression, stepping up beside Aglaia. Hoffa moved forward as well, his stance cautious.
Malfoy scanned the room with a challenging gaze. "Who dares?"
Miranda leaned slightly toward Hoffa. "That's Abraxas Malfoy, the youngest son of the current Malfoy patriarch."
Hoffa frowned. He had encountered this Malfoy in Diagon Alley but had avoided conflict then. Yet here they were, on a collision course.
Is This the Universal Law?
It almost felt like the workings of a cosmic rule.
To be fair, though, Malfoy had a natural talent for irritating people with his attitude. He was the epitome of a pure-blood supremacist wizard.
Malfoy strolled leisurely, his gaze shifting between the three of them.
"Hmph, a mixed-blood Delraces, a Gorshak orphan without his grandfather's support, and you… what are you? Some poor pansy being kept by a rich woman?"
"HAHAHAHA!"
The entire Slytherin table erupted in laughter.
Miranda and Aglaea immediately raised their wands, but Hoffa grabbed their wrists, forcibly restraining their anger.
Malfoy sneered, "How much did Delraces pay you? I'll triple it!"
Hoffa maintained an expressionless face, but his mental field silently permeated the classroom, causing dust on the floor to tremble.
On the other side, Tom Riddle tilted his head slightly and took an almost imperceptible step forward.
Hoffa's mental field was instantly pushed back several meters, and his covert attempt at casting Shatter Grip was disrupted.
Hoffa's attention swiftly shifted from the arrogant Malfoy to his "old friend" from the orphanage. Aglaea's transfiguration spell being interrupted earlier had already raised suspicions, and now it was clear—it had been Tom Riddle who had interfered.
This guy... just one summer, and he's already this skilled? No wonder he becomes the Dark Lord.
The tension in the classroom was palpable. Small fragments of paper fluttered in the air.
Hufflepuff and Gryffindor students quietly picked up their books and distanced themselves.
Suddenly, BANG!
The sound of the door slamming echoed through the room.
An elderly man in a red robe strode in. Slightly hunched, his bald head gleamed without a single hair, but he sported a thick, graying beard. He carried a rugged water flask often used by Aurors.
It was Professor Melers, the Gryffindor head and a veteran Auror.
"What's going on here?"
His sharp tone immediately drew attention to the mess in the classroom.
Malfoy scoffed, flicking his green robes as he turned away.
Hoffa quickly pulled Aglaea, trying to make her sit down. The old Auror might have a good-natured reputation, but as Gryffindor's current head, no one dared test his patience.
A few Gryffindor students explained the situation briefly, and Professor Melers immediately turned to Aglaea and Malfoy.
"Was it you two causing trouble?"
Malfoy raised his head arrogantly, saying nothing as he returned to his seat with the other Slytherins.
Tom Riddle stood politely and said, "Professor, it's nothing serious. We were just practicing a bit, exchanging techniques in defensive magic."
"Sit down."
Professor Melers' voice was stern. "If you want to practice defense techniques, do it outside!"
Tom Riddle returned to his seat, while Malfoy discreetly flipped Aglaea off.
Aglaea, unable to hold back, spat on the floor with a loud ptooey and said, "Trash will always be trash."
This set off the Slytherins, who rose abruptly from their seats.
Professor Melers slammed the desk, and his water flask shot into the air.
"Enough! Disparaging your classmates? Delraces, Ravenclaw loses 20 points!"
The Slytherins slowly sat back down.
Aglaea's face flushed with anger. Hoffa held her arm tightly and patted her shoulder.
"You've forgotten again. If you want revenge, don't do it here—you won't have the upper hand."
With that, he and Miranda each grabbed one of Aglaea's arms and forced her to sit down.
Once seated, Aglaea muttered to Hoffa, "Mark my words, one day I'm going to end him."
"Sure, sure," Hoffa said, trying to calm her. "For now, focus on the class. There's no rush."
But it was clear Aglaea wasn't listening. She spent the entire lesson plotting how to humiliate Malfoy in the most vindictive way possible. From the tone of her voice, it seemed their feud went beyond personal; there might even be some deep-seated ancestral grudge.
None of the three were particularly attentive during the lecture. When Professor Melers began discussing countermeasures against dark elves, the Slytherins snickered audibly. Malfoy even made a throat-slitting gesture at Aglaea, likely mocking her veela heritage since veelas were a type of elf.
Hoffa could feel Aglaea boiling with rage, and Miranda had to hold onto her wrist firmly, her own face dark with anger.
Finally, Professor Melers concluded the theoretical portion of the class.
After taking a slow sip from his flask, he said, "As per Headmaster Dippet's announcement this year, every professor is tasked with selecting an assistant.
I'm no exception. However, I've always believed that the most dangerous dark creatures are wizards themselves.
Only those who truly understand and master dark magic can become the finest Defense Against the Dark Arts practitioners.
So, this year, my assessment will focus on a Dark Magic Defense Duel. You may only use dark magic or defensive spells. I want to see how you apply and develop what you've learned."
Before he could finish, Aglaea shot her hand into the air.
Professor Melers frowned. "What is it, Miss Delraces?"
"Is it a duel?" she asked bluntly.
"You could interpret it that way."
"I'm signing up."
Without waiting for a response, she turned to the Slytherin table and, with lightning speed, declared, "Under the rules of wizard dueling, I have the right to challenge a wizard. Of course, Abraxas Malfoy, you have the right to refuse my challenge!"
Malfoy leaned back, exchanged smirks with his peers, and shook his head. Then, his expression turned serious as he sprang onto the floor with one arm.
"Bring it on. You think I'm scared of you?"
(To be continued)
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