0339 The Curse on DADA

With the sofa now fully occupied, Bryan had to return to his seat behind the oak desk that served as the centerpiece of his office.

“About this owl–” Sirius wasted no time in stating the purpose behind his late-night visit, his words punctuated by the soft hooting emanating from the feathered occupant of the cage. “Since you three are here, that makes things simple. It’s for you, Ron–“

“For me?” Ron’s eyes widened in a comical display of disbelief as his gaze ping-ponged between the small, ruffled owl and Professor Black’s kind face.

“Yes, I pre-ordered it a few days ago. Today, the post office delivered it straight to my office. It seems quite excited by the new environment, while I happen to need a quiet setting right now,” Sirius explained, his smile deepening as he took in the younger Weasley’s flustered face.

“Consider it compensation for what happened to you, Ron. Crookshanks told me how much you valued that rat Scabbers, but because of me, you lost him.”

Ron’s cheeks puffed out, his freckled features twisting in an expression of astonishment. Although he refrained from giving voice to his thoughts, the unconcealed delight that danced within his eyes was seen by all present.

The Weasley family, burdened by financial constraints, possessed only a single communal owl for the whole family. None of Ron’s siblings, nor his younger sister Ginny, had a pet of their own.

“Go on and accept it, Ron. Hedwig will be happy to have a new friend!” Harry chimed in with an encouraging grin.

“Well–” Ron hesitated, the tips of his ears burning a vivid crimson as he found himself the center of attention. Ultimately, however, he offered an embarrassed nod of acquiescence under the warm, supportive gazes of Harry and Hermione.

Now it fell to Harry to clear the true purpose that had drawn the courageous trio visit Bryan’s Office in the waning hours of the night.

“Oh, actually…” He averted his gaze, suddenly finding it difficult to meet the inquisitive stares of Sirius and Professor Watson, his words emerging in a hesitant stammer. “We came here to ask you about something, Professor Watson–“

“Hmm–” Bryan leaned back in his chair, making a nasal sound to indicate he was listening.

“There’s been a rumor about the Defense Against the Dark Arts position– that the professors appointed to teach this subject face a curse. The incidents with Quirrell, Lockhart, and Professor Lupin seem to prove this point. With only one exception.”

Harry’s gaze wavered, settling upon Professor Watson with a mixture of nervousness and curiosity, while Hermione regarded such baseless rumors with palpable disdain, her chin tilted downwards as she studiously examined the toes of her shoes.

Dawning realization blossomed across Bryan’s face, while Sirius immediately froze after Harry stated his purpose, staring intently at Harry’s face that so resembled James’s. He pursed his lips, a glimmer of light shining in his pale gray eyes.

The unnatural atmosphere made Harry feel suffocated. He awkwardly looked down in embarrassment but still persisted in asking the question, “We want to figure out how you managed to avoid this misfortune.”

“Harry–” Sirius spoke softly. “You don’t need to worry about that. I’ve considered it – I’m only temporarily helping Dumbledore for less than half a school year. Even if that rumor is true, I don’t believe it would be fatal–“

In recent years, among the unsolved mysteries at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the rumor that the professor for the Defense Against the Dark Arts course suffers from a curse has been quite prevalent. Although Dumbledore always remained tight-lipped about it in public, people believed that there was indeed something unusual about this course.

One remarkable side of this alleged curse was that regardless of the identity or caliber of the professor assigned to teach the subject, their tenure would invariably conclude in a gloomy, ominous departure, yet they always managed to persevere in this position until the end of the academic year. Of course, the tragic fate that befell upon Remus could not be considered a benchmark, as external forces beyond the supposed curse were at play.

Outsiders and idle gossipers alike relentlessly speculated about the nature of this curse, believing that the curse on the professors of this course had a time limit, However, Bryan, who had personally experienced this curse, had his own distinct perspective.

In Bryan’s estimation, the curse was akin to a chronic poison that silently infiltrated the being of any who accepted the appointment. It would not reveal its presence immediately, but rather, it would gradually and secretly alter the recipient’s fortunes, much like a sinister version of luck potion. The poison would accumulate invisibly, and in the shadows unseen, unfavorable events would quietly transpire until a critical juncture was reached, at which the curse would trigger in full explosion.

Judging from the workings and potency of this curse, it was evident that Voldemort himself was indeed deserving of the title of “Master of the Dark Arts.” At least during Bryan’s years mingling through the European wizarding world, he had never encountered a curse whose effects so closely mimicked the illusory luck and misfortune.

That said, unless you possessed capabilities like Bryan’s, avoiding the misfortune formed by the curse was extremely difficult. However, to a certain degree, containing the harm caused by the curse was not impossible– being mindful of the duration you served as the professor for this course was one way.

For someone like Sirius, whose intentions were merely to help Dumbledore for a brief span of two or three months, the potential consequences might not be entirely evadable, but at the very least, the extent of the damage could be contained within an acceptable range.

This logical justification was also the underlying reason why Bryan did not clearly oppose Sirius’s decision to accept Dumbledore’s offer of the professorship.

If Dumbledore could find three or four ‘scapegoats’ every year, this course would not have such a bad reputation.

In any case, with Professor Watson’s clarifying explanations and Sirius’s reassurances, Harry’s worries about his godfather’s well-being were substantially alleviated, no longer gripped by the fear that Sirius might suddenly drop dead one day.

Over the following two days at Hogwarts, there were only two hottest topics within Hogwarts. The first centered around the true teaching level of Sirius in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. As the third-year Gryffindors had not yet experienced his teaching during those initial two days, Harry could only inquire about his godfather’s performance from others, fearing any unfavorable critiques about his godfather. However, according to Fred and George, Sirius’s teaching methods were quite engaging and interesting, at the very least not inferior to the Professor Lupin’s.

The second topic that consumed the Hogwarts rumor mill was the emergence of what appeared to be a volatile conflict erupting from within the ranks of Slytherin House itself. This altercation had transpired in the Slytherin common room on the previous Monday evening, shortly after the evening meal, and was said to have escalated to such an intense degree that it had to be intervened by the Head of Slytherin House before it subsided.

However, given the notorious uncommunicativeness and tight-lipped nature of the Slytherins when it came to preserving the ‘purity’ of their house’s traditions, the other three houses found themselves starved of any detailed accounts into the nature of this conflict.

In the aftermath of the alarming clash, Draco Malfoy and his faithful cronies could be observed swaggering about the campus grounds with an air of arrogant superiority, while Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini, fellow Slytherin students in Malfoy’s year, consistently bore sullen expressions and visible bruises on their faces, telling everyone they were the losers in this mysterious intra-house conflict.

-Wednesday-

The weather on this particular morning was as splendid and vibrant as Harry’s bubbly mood during this period. As fragmented shafts of golden sunlight poured through the intricately carved window grilles, bathing the dormitory in a warm, inviting glow, Harry sprung from his four-poster bed with an energetic vigor. He swiftly donned his school uniform and strode to Ron’s bedside, vigorously patting the edge of the mattress in an effort to wake up his slumbering friend.

“Get up, Ron, we can’t miss today’s class!” Harry’s voice resonated with an unmistakable enthusiasm.

“Mmm—” Ron mumbled groggily, sitting upright and rubbing the sleepy haze from his eyes. Seeing Harry rush into the washroom like the wind to freshen up, he blinked in confusion but immediately realized the reason for Harry’s excitement.

One by one, Neville, Seamus, and Dean climbed out of their beds, bewildered by the commotion.

“What’s going on?” Seamus asked his brow furrowed in puzzlement. “I’ve never seen Harry this excited about attending classes.”

“Sirius’s class,” Ron shrugged nonchalantly. “He’s really looking forward to it—”

Harry was not the sole individual eagerly anticipating Professor Black’s opening class. At least, while having breakfast in the Great Hall, Hermione overheard her two roommates, Lavender and Parvati, giggling and sneakily pointing toward Sirius at the staff table.

Undeniably, Sirius Black was one of the more aesthetically appealing professors in terms of physical appearance. With his chiseled, handsome features and a subtle hint of melancholy often lingering in his eyes when he was silent– a consequence, perhaps, of his past persecution– he exuded an alluring aura of brooding intrigue that was quite lethal to underage witches who yearned for romance.

In terms of teaching level, Sirius might not surpass the strong personal style of Professor Watson, but at least in terms of appearance, his supporters among the young wizards were almost on par with Bryan’s.

As they filed into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Sirius, dressed in a sky-blue wizard’s robe, having completed the necessary pre-class preparations, leaned casually against the podium, patiently awaiting the arrival of the students.

This was a combined class with Slytherin House, and within that house, Sirius’s popularity was clearly not as high as it was in Gryffindor. After the Gryffindor students had all taken their seats, the Slytherin eventually walked in, their expressions radiating an icy disdain. And just a mere second before the bell signaling the beginning of the class period rang out, Draco Malfoy made his grand entrance, flanked by his ever-present lackeys Crabbe and Goyle in tow.

Harry immediately shot Malfoy an angry glare, aware that the reason Malfoy arrived so late was not because he was held up by something but rather an attempt to undermine Sirius’s authority.

When it came to hating the Slytherins, Sirius was no less passionate than Harry and his circle of friends. However, for Bryan’s sake, he did not want to stoop to the level of a ‘Sniveling’ pest.

“Let’s begin our class now—”

After retrieving the attendance register and methodically calling out each name, Sirius smiled warmly and returned to his position at the podium.

“I’ve familiarized myself with the current status and progress of this class through Professor Lupin, and I must say, I am quite pleased with the progress you have all made thus far.”

At this juncture, Malfoy arrogantly tilted his head, giving Professor Black with a sidelong glance laden with disdain, and let out an audible, mocking snort that reverberated throughout the classroom, ensuring that every student present was made aware of his contempt.

“If you dare cause any trouble, Malfoy,” Harry whipped his head around, his face flushing crimson with rage as he glared at him fiercely, “I’ll make sure the marks on Zabini and Nott’s faces appear on yours too—”

“I bet, Potter—” Malfoy countered, his lips curling into a disdainful sneer, “you must be super touched, right? Having such an experienced jailbird for a godfather?”

Before Harry could stand up and draw his wand, Sirius, who had appeared by his side at some unknown point, had already placed a hand on his shoulder, staring coldly at Malfoy.

“Twenty points from Slytherin—do you need me to explain the reason for the deduction, Mr. Malfoy?” Sirius’s voice was low and measured, yet carried an undeniable undercurrent of authority.

Directly challenging a professor’s dominance was not a confrontation that even a brash third-year student like Draco could muster, no matter the depth of his disdain for Sirius. Wilting under Professor Black’s ice-cold stare, Draco found himself devoid of the courage to retort.

“This is the scene I’ve been dreaming of!” Ron whispered conspiratorially, a chuckle escaping his lips under Hermione’s disapproving gaze. “The fun is just beginning; I really wish Malfoy could act a bit more boldly!”

Sirius returned to his position at the podium, his gaze sweeping across the assembled class as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth once more.

“According to the curriculum, we should be delving deeper into our understanding of werewolves, but thanks to Professor Watson, we have a rare opportunity to learn how to effectively face the threat posed by the attack of another creature—”

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