“Red Caps.”
Hermione calmly rose to her feet, resting her fingertips on the corresponding paragraph in her textbook.
“They are small creatures with grayish-green skin and long, sharp nails.
Their most distinctive feature is the red cap they wear, which is soaked in human blood,” she explained clearly.
After a brief pause, she continued, “Once the color of a Red Cap’s hat begins to fade, its power weakens considerably.
That is why it constantly hunts living creatures.”
Having finished her answer, Hermione stood quietly beside her desk and looked toward the lectern, waiting expectantly for the professor’s response.
For the first time since the lesson began, Hermes smiled.
“A very thorough answer, Miss Granger.”
Approval colored his voice.
After all, no professor would dislike an intelligent and diligent student.
“One point to Gryffindor.”
After awarding the point, Hermes swept his gaze across the rest of the class.
“Remember this.
Red Caps will be included in your final written examination.”
He nodded slightly and tapped his fingertips against the lectern before adding information that was not included in their textbook.
“If a Muggle encounters a Red Cap alone, they possess almost no means of defending themselves and are unlikely to survive.
A wizard who has mastered a few basic spells, however, can subdue one with relative ease.”
He paused before continuing methodically.
“Basic defensive spells such as the Trip Jinx and Impediment Jinx can restrict its movements, while a simple Knockback Jinx can drive it away.”
Finally, Hermes blinked.
“Of course, splashing it with a Beautification Potion might produce miraculous results.”
When he finished speaking, he noticed that most of the students were simply staring at him.
His eyes narrowed.
“What are you all looking at me for?
Write that down!”
The young wizards snapped out of their daze, hurriedly picked up their quills, and began scribbling furiously in their notebooks.
Once most of them had put down their quills again, Hermes continued the lesson.
A wand appeared in his hand.
With a casual wave, neat white writing materialized across the blackboard, organizing the course syllabus into several categories. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
“I assume all of you understand that the purpose of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to teach you how to identify, resist, and counter attacks involving the Dark Arts and dark creatures.”
“This subject is divided into five areas: theory, defensive spells, dark creatures, practical dueling, and countering advanced Dark Arts.”
His expression became serious.
“You must learn to distinguish between lawful defensive magic and illegal Dark Arts.
There is an absolute boundary between them.”
Once the steady scratching of quills came to an end, Hermes smiled faintly.
“Would you like to pick up your wands and experience some real Defense Against the Dark Arts?”
His question fell among the students like a depth charge, instantly sending a wave of excitement through the classroom.
“Yes!”
The students shouted in unison.
Professor Quirrell’s lifeless teaching had made them believe that Defense Against the Dark Arts would become yet another tedious subject like History of Magic.
Hermes looked at the excitement on their faces and shook his head regretfully.
“Unfortunately, students below the fourth year receive very few practical lessons.”
After all, the early years of Defense Against the Dark Arts focused primarily on building a foundation of theoretical knowledge.
“However, during your first three years, you will still have opportunities to use your wands and encounter magical creatures.”
Hermes paused.
“Provided, of course, that your performance satisfies me.”
The disappointment that had only just appeared on the students’ faces vanished immediately.
Their enthusiasm returned in full force, and one after another, they raised their heads and straightened their backs.
Watching them, Hermes gently shook his head, amusement visible in his eyes.
They were still children.
A few carefully chosen words were enough to ignite their enthusiasm for learning.
Still, the restrictions imposed by the British Ministry of Magic were rather troublesome.
At Durmstrang, students would not have to wait until their fourth year.
First-year students were introduced to the three Unforgivable Curses during their very first lesson.
Naturally, no professor would actually teach eleven-year-old children how to cast them.
However, the instructors would still demonstrate the horror of each curse before the class.
It served as a warning, ensuring that the young wizards who might encounter the Dark Arts in the future would never forget their true nature.
The Dark Arts ultimately did only one thing—they plundered life, will, and soul.
At that thought, Hermes sighed quietly.
“Once you acquire the basic ability to protect yourselves, you will eventually have to confront the cruelest aspect of the wizarding world: advanced Dark Arts.”
“For example, the three Unforgivable Curses.”
A chorus of startled exclamations erupted throughout the classroom.
Ignoring the students’ frightened or expectant expressions, Hermes waved his wand.
The writing across the blackboard changed once more.
This was the lesson he had prepared for the first years.
His intention was to force the knowledge in their textbook, the experience he had accumulated through years of practice, and the potentially fatal details omitted from their books into the students’ heads all at once—and make certain that the information remained there.
Having immersed himself in the Dark Arts for so many years, Hermes understood better than most how important a solid foundation could be.
The lesson passed quickly beneath his relentless bombardment of knowledge.
Unsurprisingly, hardly any of the students could adapt to such an intense teaching style during their first class.
They had to record the information absent from their textbooks while desperately following Hermes’s explanations.
If they focused on their notes for too long, they would look up only to discover that he had already moved on to the next subject.
The slightest delay was enough to leave them hopelessly behind.
They could only write across their parchment with all their strength while constantly watching Hermes at the front of the classroom.
When the bell finally rang, the young wizards felt as though they had been granted a royal pardon.
They put down their quills one after another and used their left hands to massage the aching joints of their right.
After a single lesson, they felt as exhausted as if they had just survived a great battle.
Some were already swaying in their seats and wanted nothing more than to return to their dormitories and sleep.
Hermes stopped teaching the instant the bell rang, no longer forcing them beneath the crushing tide of knowledge.
His gaze swept across the students, whose eyes remained somewhat unfocused, and he spoke unhurriedly.
“Since you are first-year students, you will be exempt from the opening assessment.”
“However, you must memorize everything covered today before our next lesson.
I will question you on it then.”
Hermes’s eyes narrowed, and a dangerous gleam flashed within them.
“A friendly warning: anyone who fails to answer will experience a punishment they will feel in their bones.”
His gaze passed slowly over each student’s face before settling on the classroom door.
He could sense that many third-year students, who had arrived early for the next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, were already lingering in the corridor outside.
“That will be all for today.”
“Class dismissed.”
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