Chapter 622: Sixth-Year Defense Against the Dark Arts Class

## Chapter 622: Sixth-Year Defense Against the Dark Arts Class

Professor Grindelwald was meticulously polishing his wand in the classroom.

The black velvet cloth glided over the smooth, flexible wand and the tiny, glittering gems. His movements were precise, completing the task under the watchful eyes of the four professors, each with their own thoughts.

He discarded the velvet and brought the wand up to his eyes, staring at it intently before blowing away the dust.

Only then did Grindelwald turn his head, his gaze passing through the doorframe to the chaotic line of students in the corridor. Harry stood at the front, and a girl with messy brown hair was halfway into the classroom, her mouth open in surprise.

"Please come in", he said with a grin.

The students flooded in.

Harry wanted to greet the new professor, but he chose to remain silent, his mind preoccupied by the statue-like figure of the professor in the last row. Why was Snape here? What about Professor Mcgonagall? And Professor Hup and Headmaster Dumbledore—had they all planned this?

Hermione tiptoed in, choosing a seat in the front row, hardly daring to breathe.

Harry had already walked past, but he suddenly turned around, his shoes screeching on the floor. He sat down next to Hermione, his face set. Then came Ron, Neville, Seamus... Each student who entered the room and saw the four professors became more reserved, moving like kittens on tiptoe.

The Slytherins exchanged glances, hiding their obvious hostility. They had planned to embarrass the new professor to avenge their head of house, but now they were confused. If only Snape were here, they would have assumed he was causing trouble, but they didn't think Snape would bring three colleagues to join him, especially not the always-just and fair Professor Mcgonagall and the headmaster himself.

When all the students were seated, the last three rows remained empty.

"Tsk."

Someone let out a light laugh, finding the scene amusing. If the roles were reversed, Harry thought resentfully, he would find it funny too, standing at the front of the class or in the back, seeing the students like quails. But now, as one of them, he couldn't share Professor Hup's amusement.

He focused his attention on the new professor.

The room was well-lit. The bright morning sun streamed through the large open windows, casting a glow on Professor Bashir's face, illuminating every wrinkle. He wore a black wizard's robe, his body thinner than average, but he looked much better than when Harry first met him. His gray hair was tied back, and the fine wrinkles on his neck were hidden by the collar of his robe, reappearing on the back of his hands. His hands were long and nimble, but no longer young, worn by time—except for his slightly sunken blue eyes, which sparkled in the sunlight like the shimmering surface of the Black Lake.

Grindelwald put away his wand, hands behind his back, and surveyed the classroom.

"Hogwarts", he said, "an ancient magical school, equal to any in the world. I hope to see some vigor on your faces."

A faint sense of pride appeared on the students' faces, and they sat up straighter, honored to be part of such a distinguished institution.

"Ah, it seems you've realized you are part of an excellent community. This is a good start", Grindelwald said softly. His voice was slightly hoarse, but the students were drawn to it.

They noticed that each time he spoke, he subtly shifted his feet to face different students.

"I've been living in the school for a while, and the most memorable thing to me is a phrase", Grindelwald said in Latin, looking expectantly at the class. "Can anyone tell me what this means?"

Most of the class turned their eyes to a girl in the front row. Hermione's arm shot up like a javelin, almost hitting Harry. Grindelwald caught the students' gazes and looked at her.

"It's 'Do not wake the sleeping dragon,' sir", Hermione said nervously. "It's also Hogwarts' motto."

"Your name, miss?" Grindelwald asked, taking out the attendance list.

"Hermione Granger", Hermione said quietly.

"Granger", Grindelwald repeated, glancing at Felix in the last row, who was whispering to Snape. "Please sit down, Miss Granger. Oh, I forgot—ten points to Gryffindor." He tossed the attendance list on the desk. "I prefer to get to know you this way. Take out your textbooks."

"Which one, sir?" a student asked, raising his hand slowly.

"Thinking Like a Muggle, and you can call me Professor Bashir", Grindelwald said, turning to Draco. "Your name is?"

"Draco Malfoy."

"Another familiar name, a member of the Anti-Dark Magic Alliance? Now, turn to page 147 and read the chapter on 'Social Organizations.' You have ten minutes."

"But, Professor Bashir", a tall student frowned, "why are we learning this in Defense Against the Dark Arts?" His friend Justin tugged at his sleeve, but he persisted, "If I want to understand how Muggles think, why not take Muggle Studies?"

The other students stopped what they were doing—honestly, they had no interest in the book, for the same reason as Ernie. No one wanted to read about Muggles in a Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and they were glad someone raised the question. Their gazes shifted between Ernie and Professor Bashir.

"Your name."

"Ernie Macmillan", Ernie puffed out his chest.

"Hufflepuff?"

"Yes, sir."

"Mr. Macmillan of Hufflepuff, why don't you spend ten minutes reading it? The answer is in there."

Reluctant reading and page-turning filled the room.

Dumbledore leaned in, intrigued, and whispered, "Perhaps I missed something. Is there anything interesting in this chapter?" Snape and Professor Mcgonagall turned to Felix, who whispered back, "It just introduces some Muggle clubs, societies, and social activities."

The ten minutes passed quickly.

"Who can tell me what they learned?" Grindelwald asked, looking around. "Macmillan?"

Ernie was sweating nervously.

"Well... I learned about many Muggle clubs and organizations, like unions, interest clubs, associations, committees, religious groups, academic clubs, political clubs, parties, bands..."

"No, Mr. Macmillan, no", Grindelwald said softly. "I didn't ask you to repeat what you read. I don't think there are any blind people here." The students chuckled, but Grindelwald remained serious.

"Think about it", his tone became more urgent. "Your minds are for thinking—Harry Potter?"

Harry stood up, his expression blank.

"Tell me what you think."

"Um, many people...?" Harry said softly, lacking confidence. Some students chuckled.

"Try again."

"Groups", Harry said more confidently.

"Close", Grindelwald said, walking over to him. "Groups, yes, that's right." He patted Harry's shoulder. "After stripping away the pretenses, you see how people are divided. A very accurate answer, Potter. Please sit down." He returned to the podium.

Harry struggled to hide his confusion as he sat back down, wondering what he had just answered. But his attention was fully captured by Professor Bashir's words.

"We, humans", Grindelwald said, "are weak and lazy, not good at handling complex logic and ideas, yet we want to appear knowledgeable. So we categorize everyone we meet into different groups and label them..."

"Good, bad; British, European; Hogwarts, Durmstrang; you and I are on the same side, he is against us... There are always excuses. We desperately seek identity and group affiliation in our relationships, fearing isolation."

"As students of one of the oldest magical schools, if not the oldest, you have a duty to resist this inherent flaw in mind and body, to avoid mediocrity. Mediocre people are lazy thinkers but heavily dependent on groups, ultimately giving up their rights."

"And the group is the least rational."

The classroom fell silent. Dumbledore cleared his throat, "Professor Bashir." Grindelwald immediately changed his approach, "Mr. Macmillan asked how Muggles' thoughts relate to Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'll answer now."

"The purpose of this class is to teach you how to defend against danger. I see you've learned how to defend against dark creatures and curses, but I find a significant gap in your ability to protect yourselves. There's a danger you haven't considered, one that is so close to you, yet you ignore it. If—"

"Professor Bashir", Dumbledore raised his voice, a warning tone in his voice.

Grindelwald stopped, drew his wand, and stabbed the tip into the desk like a dagger.

The classroom filled with mist.

The students' vision blurred, and Harry and a dozen others stood up, wands at the ready, looking around warily. Grindelwald was surprised by their reaction but showed no emotion. He stared at Dumbledore, who stood with a look of anger, mouthing something silently.

Felix squinted. Grindelwald said: You can stop me, but you can't stop—

And then he stopped.

The students were unaware of this exchange, only looking at Harry and the others with confusion, wondering why they reacted so strongly. But soon, they heard the sound of footsteps and chants, as if from a distance.

Colorful flags and a festive parade approached from behind Professor Bashir, passing through the students. They instinctively leaned back but quickly realized it was an illusion. The people—Muggles, presumably—had no effect on them.

They had seen similar scenes in Classroom Seven.

"The London New Year's Day Parade, a very famous festival celebration", Grindelwald said casually. "It attracts hundreds of thousands of visitors from across Britain and around the world. There's no need to be alarmed... after all, Britain has about sixty million people, and the world's population is nearly six billion."

The students gasped, staring at the dense crowd, filled with laughter and joy.

Harry had seen parades, but he lived in Surrey, where the population was only a few hundred thousand, far from the grandeur of this one. The Dursleys had gone to London for New Year's, but he was never included, left with Mrs. Figg.

But Hermione had clearly seen this before, whispering to Harry and Ron, "The London Parade has been popular since 1987, one of the most important festivals of the year. It features professional performers from around the world, with dance, music, acrobatics, cheerleading, antique car displays... It's a spectacular audio-visual feast."

"Quite a show", Ron said, impressed.

The students were captivated, finding it as novel as their first time watching a Muggle film in Ancient Runes class. Many faces were infected with the joy of the crowd, smiling and laughing.

"I've never seen such a big balloon", a student said, looking up at a giant colorful figure that seemed to pass through the ceiling.

"Hey! Those dancing girls are beautiful!"

Grindelwald tapped his wand on the desk, and the scene froze. The mist dissipated, and the parade participants paused, then turned their heads in unison, staring blankly at the students. Harry felt his heart skip a beat, forgetting how to breathe, the joy in his mind vanishing.

Finally, the mist cleared, and the stiff crowd disappeared.

Harry slumped in his seat, panting, his limbs unresponsive. He had imagined what would happen if those people suddenly rushed in, those cold, emotionless eyes, like zombies... He shuddered.

Looking around, Hermione was trembling, Ron and Neville were pale as if they had been ill, and a few seats away, Malfoy's lips were tightly pressed together, his eyes gleaming strangely. Some students were even silently retching.

"Now you should understand: as the Muggle population grows and their so-called 'technology' advances, the Statute of Secrecy is under increasing pressure. What I will teach you—"

Grindelwald narrowed his eyes, facing the angry Professor Mcgonagall, the scrutinizing Snape, the serious Felix, and Dumbledore across the room. He grinned, showing his white teeth.

"—is how to better hide yourselves."

The rest of the class passed without incident, as if what had happened was just a side note. Grindelwald continued with the lesson, introducing the concept of non-verbal spells.

"Simply put, non-verbal spells are a means of covert casting. They give you a tactical and informational advantage in duels and are equally effective for hiding in Muggle society", he added.

Grindelwald demonstrated, pointing his wand at himself. His wizard's robe changed into Muggle clothing, and his thin face transformed into that of a middle-aged man.

If they hadn't been so shocked earlier, the students would have applauded the complex and intricate transfiguration.

Grindelwald checked the time, "We have ten minutes left. Please continue reading your textbooks. I believe you will have a different understanding." As the students settled into their reading, Dumbledore quietly stood up.

"Professor Bashir, we need to discuss your lesson plan."

"Of course, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore", Grindelwald said.

"Think Like a Muggle, and you can call me Professor Bashir", Grindelwald asked Draco, "What's your name?"

"Draco Malfoy."

"Another familiar name, a member of the Anti-Dark Magic Alliance? Now, turn to page 147 and read the chapter on 'Social Organizations.' You have ten minutes."

"But, Professor Bashir", a tall student frowned, "why are we learning this in Defense Against the Dark Arts?" His friend Justin tugged at his sleeve, but he persisted, "If I want to understand how Muggles think, why not take Muggle Studies?"

The other students stopped what they were doing—honestly, they had no interest in the book, for the same reason as Ernie. No one wanted to read about Muggles in a Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and they were glad someone raised the question. Their gazes shifted between Ernie and Professor Bashir.

"Your name."

"Ernie Macmillan", Ernie puffed out his chest.

"Hufflepuff?"

"Yes, sir."

"Mr. Macmillan of Hufflepuff, why don't you spend ten minutes reading it? The answer is in there."

Reluctant reading and page-turning filled the room.

Dumbledore leaned in, intrigued, and whispered, "Perhaps I missed something. Is there anything interesting in this chapter?" Snape and Professor Mcgonagall turned to Felix, who whispered back, "It just introduces some Muggle clubs, societies, and social activities."

The ten minutes passed quickly.

"Who can tell me what they learned?" Grindelwald asked, looking around. "Macmillan?"

Ernie was sweating nervously.

"Well... I learned about many Muggle clubs and organizations, like unions, interest clubs, associations, committees, religious groups, academic clubs, political clubs, parties, bands..."

"No, Mr. Macmillan, no", Grindelwald said softly. "I didn't ask you to repeat what you read. I don't think there are any blind people here." The students chuckled, but Grindelwald remained serious.

"Think about it", his tone became more urgent. "Your minds are for thinking—Harry Potter?"

Harry stood up, his expression blank.

"Tell me what you think."

"Um, many people...?" Harry said softly, lacking confidence. Some students chuckled.

"Try again."

"Groups", Harry said more confidently.

"Close", Grindelwald said, walking over to him. "Groups, yes, that's right." He patted Harry's shoulder. "After stripping away the pretenses, you see how people are divided. A very accurate answer, Potter. Please sit down." He returned to the podium.

Harry struggled to hide his confusion as he sat back down, wondering what he had just answered. But his attention was fully captured by Professor Bashir's words.

"We, humans", Grindelwald said, "are weak and lazy, not good at handling complex logic and ideas, yet we want to appear knowledgeable. So we categorize everyone we meet into different groups and label them..."

"Good, bad; British, European; Hogwarts, Durmstrang; you and I are on the same side, he is against us... There are always excuses. We desperately seek identity and group affiliation in our relationships, fearing isolation."

"As students of one of the oldest magical schools, if not the oldest, you have a duty to resist this inherent flaw in mind and body, to avoid mediocrity. Mediocre people are lazy thinkers but heavily dependent on groups, ultimately giving up their rights."

"And the group is the least rational."

The classroom fell silent. Dumbledore cleared his throat, "Professor Bashir." Grindelwald immediately changed his approach, "Mr. Macmillan asked how Muggles' thoughts relate to Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'll answer now."

"The purpose of this class is to teach you how to defend against danger. I see you've learned how to defend against dark creatures and curses, but I find a significant gap in your ability to protect yourselves. There's a danger you haven't considered, one that is so close to you, yet you ignore it. If—"

"Professor Bashir", Dumbledore raised his voice, a warning tone in his voice.

Grindelwald stopped, drew his wand, and stabbed the tip into the desk like a dagger.

The classroom filled with mist.

The students' vision blurred, and Harry and a dozen others stood up, wands at the ready, looking around warily. Grindelwald was surprised by their reaction but showed no emotion. He stared at Dumbledore, who stood with a look of anger, mouthing something silently.

Felix squinted. Grindelwald said: You can stop me, but you can't stop—

And then he stopped.

The students were unaware of this exchange, only looking at Harry and the others with confusion, wondering why they reacted so strongly. But soon, they heard the sound of footsteps and chants, as if from a distance.

Colorful flags and a festive parade approached from behind Professor Bashir, passing through the students. They instinctively leaned back but quickly realized it was an illusion. The people—Muggles, presumably—had no effect on them.

They had seen similar scenes in Classroom Seven.

"The London New Year's Day Parade, a very famous festival celebration", Grindelwald said casually. "It attracts hundreds of thousands of visitors from across Britain and around the world. There's no need to be alarmed... after all, Britain has about sixty million people, and the world's population is nearly six billion."

The students gasped, staring at the dense crowd, filled with laughter and joy.

Harry had seen parades, but he lived in Surrey, where the population was only a few hundred thousand, far from the grandeur of this one. The Dursleys had gone to London for New Year's, but he was never included, left with Mrs. Figg.

But Hermione had clearly seen this before, whispering to Harry and Ron, "The London Parade has been popular since 1987, one of the most important festivals of the year. It features professional performers from around the world, with dance, music, acrobatics, cheerleading, antique car displays... It's a spectacular audio-visual feast."

"Quite a show", Ron said, impressed.

The students were captivated, finding it as novel as their first time watching a Muggle film in Ancient Runes class. Many faces were infected with the joy of the crowd, smiling and laughing.

"I've never seen such a big balloon", a student said, looking up at a giant colorful figure that seemed to pass through the ceiling.

"Hey! Those dancing girls are beautiful!"

Grindelwald tapped his wand on the desk, and the scene froze. The mist dissipated, and the parade participants paused, then turned their heads in unison, staring blankly at the students. Harry felt his heart skip a beat, forgetting how to breathe, the joy in his mind vanishing.

Finally, the mist cleared, and the stiff crowd disappeared.

Harry slumped in his seat, panting, his limbs unresponsive. He had imagined what would happen if those people suddenly rushed in, those cold, emotionless eyes, like zombies... He shuddered.

Looking around, Hermione was trembling, Ron and Neville were pale as if they had been ill, and a few seats away, Malfoy's lips were tightly pressed together, his eyes gleaming strangely. Some students were even silently retching.

"Now you should understand: as the Muggle population grows and their so-called 'technology' advances, the Statute of Secrecy is under increasing pressure. What I will teach you—"

Grindelwald narrowed his eyes, facing the angry Professor Mcgonagall, the scrutinizing Snape, the serious Felix, and Dumbledore across the room. He grinned, showing his white teeth.

"—is how to better hide yourselves."

The rest of the class passed without incident, as if what had happened was just a side note. Grindelwald continued with the lesson, introducing the concept of non-verbal spells.

"Simply put, non-verbal spells are a means of covert casting. They give you a tactical and informational advantage in duels and are equally effective for hiding in Muggle society", he added.

Grindelwald demonstrated, pointing his wand at himself. His wizard's robe changed into Muggle clothing, and his thin face transformed into that of a middle-aged man.

If they hadn't been so shocked earlier, the students would have applauded the complex and intricate transfiguration.

Grindelwald checked the time, "We have ten minutes left. Please continue reading your textbooks. I believe you will have a different understanding." As the students settled into their reading, Dumbledore quietly stood up.

"Professor Bashir, we need to discuss your lesson plan."

"Of course, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore", Grindelwald said.

Grindelwald said nothing, withdrawing his wand and stabbing its tip into the desk like a dagger.

The classroom filled with mist.

The students' vision blurred, and Harry, along with a dozen others, stood up, wands at the ready, looking around warily. Grindelwald was surprised by their reaction but showed no emotion. He stared at Dumbledore, who stood up with a look of anger, mouthing something silently.

Felix squinted. Grindelwald said: You can stop me, but you can't stop—

And then he stopped.

The students were unaware of this exchange, only looking at Harry and the others with confusion, wondering why they reacted so strongly. But soon, they heard the sound of footsteps and chants, as if from a distance.

Colorful flags and a festive parade approached from behind Professor Bashir, passing through the students. They instinctively leaned back but quickly realized it was an illusion. The people—Muggles, presumably—had no effect on them.

They had seen similar scenes in Classroom Seven.

"The London New Year's Day Parade, a very famous festival celebration", Grindelwald said casually. "It attracts hundreds of thousands of visitors from across Britain and around the world. There's no need to be alarmed... after all, Britain has about sixty million people, and the world's population is nearly six billion."

The students gasped, staring at the dense crowd, filled with laughter and joy.

Harry had seen parades, but he lived in Surrey, where the population was only a few hundred thousand, far from the grandeur of this one. The Dursleys had gone to London for New Year's, but he was never included, left with Mrs. Figg.

But Hermione had clearly seen this before, whispering to Harry and Ron, "The London Parade has been popular since 1987, one of the most important festivals of the year. It features professional performers from around the world, with dance, music, acrobatics, cheerleading, antique car displays... It's a spectacular audio-visual feast."

"Quite a show", Ron said, impressed.

The students were captivated, finding it as novel as their first time watching a Muggle film in Ancient Runes class. Many faces were infected with the joy of the crowd, smiling and laughing.

"I've never seen such a big balloon", a student said, looking up at a giant colorful figure that seemed to pass through the ceiling.

"Hey! Those dancing girls are beautiful!"

Grindelwald tapped his wand on the desk, and the scene froze. The mist dissipated, and the parade participants paused, then turned their heads in unison, staring blankly at the students. Harry felt his heart skip a beat, forgetting how to breathe, the joy in his mind vanishing.

Finally, the mist cleared, and the stiff crowd disappeared.

Harry slumped in his seat, panting, his limbs unresponsive. He had imagined what would happen if those people suddenly rushed in, those cold, emotionless eyes, like zombies... He shuddered.

Looking around, Hermione was trembling, Ron and Neville were pale as if they had been ill, and a few seats away, Malfoy's lips were tightly pressed together, his eyes gleaming strangely. Some students were even silently retching.

"Now you should understand: as the Muggle population grows and their so-called 'technology' advances, the Statute of Secrecy is under increasing pressure. What I will teach you—"

Grindelwald narrowed his eyes, facing the angry Professor Mcgonagall, the scrutinizing Snape, the serious Felix, and Dumbledore across the room. He grinned, showing his white teeth.

"—is how to better hide yourselves."

The rest of the class passed without incident, as if what had happened was just a side note. Grindelwald continued with the lesson, introducing the concept of non-verbal spells.

"Simply put, non-verbal spells are a means of covert casting. They give you a tactical and informational advantage in duels and are equally effective for hiding in Muggle society", he added.

Grindelwald demonstrated, pointing his wand at himself. His wizard's robe changed into Muggle clothing, and his thin face transformed into that of a middle-aged man.

If they hadn't been so shocked earlier, the students would have applauded the complex and intricate transfiguration.

Grindelwald checked the time, "We have ten minutes left. Please continue reading your textbooks. I believe you will have a different understanding." As the students settled into their reading, Dumbledore quietly stood up.

"Professor Bashir, we need to discuss your lesson plan."

"Of course, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore", Grindelwald said.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end