Chapter 12
By afternoon, things seemed to have changed a bit.
When Lucian entered the classroom, the second-year little lions were already eager and excited, their faces visibly brimming with anticipation. It appeared they had already heard about the morning's lesson from the older students and guessed what would happen next.
In stark contrast were the Slytherin little snakes, who were clearly still completely in the dark about the situation.
Lucian had no intention of changing any of this.
He stuck to his usual opening remarks, followed by sheets of parchment flying through the air. When they saw the same questions on the parchment, Ron Weasley couldn't help but burst out laughing.
He was already imagining how ugly Malfoy's face would look when all of Gryffindor got points added and all of Slytherin got points deducted.
Harry Potter locked eyes with him, and the two shared a knowing smile—it seemed they were thinking the same thing.
Hermione Granger glanced at the two of them, feeling a bit speechless at their lack of ambition. At lunchtime, when she heard that the Weasley twins were going to leak the questions to them, she immediately left.
The new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor seemed very reliable. If she cheated on the questions he had painstakingly prepared, it would not only waste his efforts but also make her despise herself.
"These are all very simple questions."
Hermione muttered to herself, quickly finishing the three questions. She looked up and found Harry and Ron gripping their wands tightly, staring intently at the parchment in front of them as if some monster was hidden inside.
Hermione quietly shifted her gaze to the professor at the podium—he was currently leaning back on a long bench (where did that chair come from? Did he transfigure it?), staring blankly at the ceiling.
As if sensing Hermione's gaze, he turned his head and met her inquisitive eyes directly.
!!!
Hermione quickly looked away, her heart racing involuntarily.
For a moment, she couldn't quite tell whether she was stunned by his appearance or frightened by his actions.
"Alright, time's up."
Lucian clapped his hands, proceeding as usual.
Even though the second-year little lions had been forewarned that the parchment would transform into pixie, the outcome didn't change much.
Understanding it intellectually was one thing; facing it in reality was another.
Ron was too nervous when casting the Freezing Charm, mispronouncing the incantation and getting the wand movement wrong.
Not only did he fail to freeze the pixie in front of him, but he also caused a ripple effect that hit Harry nearby, Harry desperately clutched his wand and wrestled with the pixie, fighting for his life to prevent it from snatching the wand away.
Neville Longbottom, despite knowing what would happen, still panicked and screamed when he saw the little creature appear, showing no intention of fighting back at all.
It turned out that even with psychological preparation, without sufficient knowledge and skill, these students still couldn't handle the simplest house-elf.
"Aside from showing their rock bottom or suddenly bursting with potential, do Hogwarts students have no other options besides these two extremes?"
Lucian watched the farce unfolding before him expressionlessly—after a minute, Hermione, who had finally pulled herself together, stepped up and used the Freezing Charm to resolve the trouble for all the little lions.
As for the Slytherin side, it was an even greater disaster. A house renowned for cunning and ambition—when had it fallen to this state?
Lucian expressionlessly lifted the Transfiguration, added five points to Gryffindor, selected Hermione as the class monitor, and continued the lesson.
Friday.
As the last class ended, Lucian let out an involuntary sigh after leaving the classroom. the state of Hogwarts was even worse than he had imagined.
The third-year students, after wasting an entire year, had essentially returned most of what they learned in first year—dropping to the level of blank slates alongside the first- and second-years.
The fourth-years performed decently and were the most suitable grade for Lucian to test his theories.
They had a certain foundation in theory and practical skills, without the pressure of the fifth-years' O.W.L. exams—it was their freest time.
With some training, they could barely meet Lucian's requirements for conducting experiments.
As for the fifth-years, there was nothing to say—Lucian was already prepared to drown them in a sea of practice questions.
The coming year would likely be the hardest for this grade.
For the sixth-years, the curriculum had changed; students needed to advance in subjects aligned with their future career paths.
Notably, to take the advanced class in a subject, one generally needed at least an "E" in the corresponding O.W.L. exam. Snape, in particular, required an "O" in Potions for students to continue studying with him.
Due to the lack of handover, the school had defaulted the requirement for advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts to an "E." Eight students from the four houses met the standard. Lucian had reviewed their files—seven were from pure-blood families.
For these students, rather than jumping straight into teaching, he needed to spend some time first determining their directions.
"Your eight have a decent foundation. If you start putting in effort this year, depending on how hard you work, getting an 'E' or even an 'O' in next year's N.E.W.T.s wouldn't be difficult."
"Come on, Professor." A young man with light blue hair waved his hand dismissively.
"Everyone knows the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts changes every year. Even if we study with you this year, won't there be a new professor next year?"
"Besides, we don't trust you yet."Severus scrutinised this professor before him.
"Professor Lucian, forgive me for being blunt, but you clearly come from Slytherin, yet none of our parents have any impression of you. During your school days, you didn't leave behind any noteworthy achievements. In the wizarding world, you don't seem to have made any name for yourself either. Though you scored eight 'O's in your O.W.L.s, you never took the seventh-year N.E.W.T. exams."
"What are you trying to say?"
"We've already been wasted for a whole year by Professor Quirrell. His teaching was useless, yet he wouldn't allow us to use class time to study other subjects independently, as if that would interfere with something. If you're like Professor Quirrell... I hope, at the very least, you won't waste our time."
"Perhaps... would you be willing to demonstrate your strength to us?"
Lucian didn't rush to respond. He looked at the others. "Do you all feel the same way?"
Seeing everyone nod, with only one witch standing at the back clenching her hands tightly and saying nothing, Lucian shook his head faintly and said, "With your foundations, even if I let you study independently, many of you should be able to get around an 'E' in next year's N.E.W.T.s. I'd be happy to lighten my teaching load.
Unfortunately, that way I couldn't report satisfactorily to Professor McGonagall—to avoid her worrying about my teaching quality—"
Lucian drew his wand from his waist and slowly pointed it at the group.
"How about this: I'll give you three minutes. The eight of you can attack me together—no restrictions on spells, no restrictions on methods. I'll only defend, no counterattacks. If even one spell from you lands on me, then your sixth-year classes can be self-study from now on."