Being timely is better than being early—just as Eda was starting to doze off, the Professor handed her a pillow.
She had decided to start practicing nonverbal magic at the end of last term, and now, right at the start of the new term, Dumbledore had delivered a set of notes—perfect timing, to say the least.
Nonverbal magic, or silent casting, refers to casting spells without speaking the incantation aloud. This gives the caster a momentary advantage, as the opponent won't know what spell is being cast. That's how it's described in the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6.
That was exactly why Eda wanted to practice silent casting. But mastering it was notoriously difficult, requiring immense willpower and focus.
Additionally, one had to be aware that nonverbal spells usually came with a decrease in effectiveness—the exact extent of which varied from person to person.
Even with the damage reduction, Eda believed practicing silent casting was well worth it. Especially for ambushes and sneak attacks—it couldn't be more fitting. If one wanted to become a true "Voldemort," then nonverbal magic was undoubtedly the essential choice.
After receiving the notes, Eda didn't get to stay in the office much longer—Professor McGonagall promptly sent her back.
It was getting late, and McGonagall instructed her to go straight to bed and not wander around, especially not to the corridor on the right side of the 3rd floor.
In the common room, the twins were waiting for Eda to return. They filled her in on the results of their scouting mission.
Fred and George hadn't found anything unusual in the corridor on the right side of the 3rd floor. It was just covered in dust and cobwebs. Aside from a locked door, there was nothing at all that resembled a so-called "restricted area."
As mentioned before, in the wizarding world, ordinary locks are generally meant to keep out the honest, not the dishonest. The lock on this door was exactly that kind of ordinary lock—practically decorative and carrying none of the weight one would expect from a "restricted area."
Such a lock couldn't possibly keep out anyone determined to enter, and Dumbledore's one sentence—"No entry allowed"—was equally ineffective at suppressing students' curiosity. This so-called restricted zone was basically unguarded. It was like standing on a balcony waving a handkerchief and shouting, "Come play!"
Eda was certain there was something special behind that door.
Otherwise, how could Dumbledore so confidently house something "dangerous" right inside the castle?
If someone couldn't tolerate another sleeping beside their bed, how could he tolerate a mere door standing between the students and danger?
The three of them whispered among themselves and decided to sneak in for a visit next week to see what was hidden inside.
By Thursday, it was time for Quirrell's Defense Against the Dark Arts class again.
Four days into the new term, students across all years had already suffered under his teaching. After another class, any last shred of hope the third-year Gryffindors had for Quirrell was thoroughly crushed.
Quirrell wasn't overly excited about becoming a core subject professor, nor was he underperforming due to nerves—he was simply terrible at teaching. That was all there was to it.
The only remaining purpose for this class was mutual torment between teacher and students. Quirrell tortured the students with his incompetence, spoon-feeding them information, while the students didn't have to do anything. Just showing up to class was the greatest torment they could inflict on Quirrell.
Judging by Quirrell's teaching skills, getting a teaching post at Hogwarts clearly wasn't difficult. Eda figured even she could do it—after all, with Quirrell as the bottom benchmark, how could she possibly be worse?
On Thursday afternoon, Eda had her elective class in Ancient Runes.
She had originally assumed that Professor Bathsheda Babbling would be an elderly scholar, but to her surprise, Professor Babbling was unexpectedly young—she looked only in her late twenties or early thirties.
Ancient Runes was primarily a theoretical subject, focused on studying ancient rune manuscripts. It was quite similar to how Muggles studied oracle bone script and other archaic writing systems.
Seeing such a young professor teaching such a scholarly subject, Eda couldn't help but feel a bit skeptical.
Given her prior experience with Quirinus Quirrell—the epitome of incompetence—Eda felt her distrust of another young professor like Bathsheda Babbling was completely justified.
But despite her doubts, the Ancient Runes class began, and Professor Babbling swiftly proved her wrong with her competence. She gave Eda a solid reminder not to judge a book by its cover.
Though young, Professor Babbling was truly knowledgeable.
She wasn't here just to collect a paycheck like Quirrell.
She had published many papers in the field of Ancient Runes, and her accomplishments had already surpassed many of her older peers. Her decision to teach at Hogwarts was driven by a desire to further her research into the subject.
Her course structure was also well thought-out. She began by explaining the significance and practical uses of the subject, helping students understand what runes were all about.
Then she introduced a few of the simplest symbols, which was somewhat like picture-based learning from early childhood education.
Most of the students in the classroom were from Ravenclaw, with only a handful from the other three houses. Among them, Eda ran into a familiar face—Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff.
By the end of the class, everyone had gained a relatively clear understanding of Ancient Runes and developed a solid respect for the young Professor Babbling.
Of course, if one really wanted to nitpick, there were still a few flaws that could be found in her teaching.
No one had expected the knowledgeable Professor Babbling to be such a chatterbox.
She had likely spent so much time alone studying runes that the presence of students—real, live people—made her feel especially warm and talkative.
It was as if she hadn't spoken to anyone in generations—Professor Babbling would go on and on with one irrelevant comment after another. She spoke so much that no one else could get a word in; the entire class felt like a one-woman show.
She could start with Ancient Runes and somehow drift into domestic gossip, shift from ancient and powerful magic to complaining about the mediocre lunch, and segue from academic research to which magazines had the best cover designs.
Amid her endless rambling, she also had quite a few complaints about the school.
She believed Ancient Runes should be a required subject and that every student should learn this ancient language. She felt the current education system was flawed and that the Ministry of Magic should implement reforms as soon as possible.
She even complained that Dumbledore didn't pay her enough—it wasn't sufficient for her to buy new clothes!
While Professor Babbling was tearing the school apart with her criticisms, Cedric quietly whispered to Eda, "She hides in her office all day translating runes. What does she even need new clothes for?"
Eda ignored Cedric's very straight-boy comment. What interested her more was something else Professor Babbling had mentioned—she had once greatly admired Quirrell.
Of course, she wasn't talking about the stammering Quirrell they all knew now. Other than the deaf and blind, no one could possibly admire him. The Quirrell Professor Babbling spoke of was the one from her school days—a clever, quick-witted, and very talented upperclassman.
Professor Babbling also expressed deep regret over what Quirrell had become.
She simply couldn't understand what kind of upheaval could cause such a drastic transformation in a person—aside from that face, everything about him was completely different from before.
When Quirrell's name came up, some students showed no interest at all, keeping their heads down as they organized their notes. Others, their gossiping spirits ignited, speculated whether the two had once been childhood sweethearts, growing up together. Still others were busy wondering what exactly had happened to Quirrell.
Cause and effect—only by understanding the cause could one begin to deduce the effect.
Only by uncovering the secret behind Quirrell could Eda figure out what he was really planning. Then she could decide whether it was time to prepare for trouble—or just grab a little stool and enjoy the show.
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