Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 317 Facing Fear
Night falls.

A group of professors are preparing for tonight's special lecture.

The teaching area was located outside the castle, where the snow had not yet melted. Cold winds blew from the Forbidden Forest and the Black Lake from time to time, so clusters of blue flames floated on both sides of the road, warm and soft, as smooth as silk, like dazzling gems in the night.

The path extends from the lobby to the school gate, guiding students along the way.

The young wizards quickly finished their dinner and rushed over.

On the school gate railing is a bronze relief of a warthog with outstretched wings, surrounded by swaying blue flames. The purpose of the flames here is not to keep warm, but to provide illumination. The height is set just right to light up the open space without being glaring or dazzling, and without interfering with the students' visual focus.

This setup makes it difficult for heat to reach the ground, yet the area feels perfectly warm. Each student wears a wool scarf in the college's colors, its soft, close-fitting fleece keeping the cold wind out through an invisible barrier.

There were no shelters or screens, not even chairs or a podium. Students and professors had to stand in the open space, and hundreds of people crowded the open area at the school gate.

The starry sky wasn't particularly bright, which made the snowy landscape under the night sky less beautiful. Soft blue firelight shone down, illuminating the students' faces.

All the students were present, scattered in their respective college lines, excitedly chatting as if they had endless topics to discuss. Their voices resonated, and the thick snow on the ground trembled slightly.

For most students, only the classes on protecting magical creatures and herbs were outdoors, while the classes on defense against the dark magic and spells were held in the castle's enclosed classrooms. It was like Muggle students having math class on the playground, which was quite novel.

Professor Snape, the specially invited potions teaching assistant, was pacing along the inner wall of the bubble membrane, expressionless and striding with his head held high, holding a bottle of potion in his hand, from which smoke was escaping.

The diluted euphoria drug wasn't as potent. The students along the way, upon smelling the smoke, only felt a little more invigorated, talked more enthusiastically with their friends, and looked forward to the upcoming club classes even more.

According to the notice on the bulletin board, the Duel Club's class was scheduled to start at 7:30. Ten minutes before the class was to begin, the professors had all arrived, but the principal was nowhere to be seen.

The Duel Club had held special classes before, inviting professors from other disciplines, but this was the first time Dumbledore had served as a teaching assistant. The students craned their necks, looking around with great anticipation.

There are five minutes left before the class starts.

Two figures appeared at the end of the path. When they got closer, they could see that they were an old man and a young man, both familiar faces. Blue flames flickered, illuminating their silver beards and hair. The boy next to them wore a red and gold tie, and behind his glasses were a pair of green eyes.

Harry asked, somewhat puzzled, "Sir, wasn't it wrong for Fudge and Umbridge to delay the trial? Why can't you exercise the powers of Wizengamor to remove Fudge or push the trial forward?"

"Because someone is doing it."

"But Ms. Burns is only the director."

"Harry, I hope you understand."

Dumbledore patiently advised him: "This may involve some power struggles, but it has nothing to do with official rank or grade. We should do what is appropriate to our status. I am at Hogwarts, and I think I am a good professor."

The old wizard looked up at the students peering ahead, paused, and said, "I'm sorry, Harry, I can't get involved in this kind of conflict. When I was younger, some experiences proved that power was my weakness, my temptation..."

"What about Sirius?"

"You can rest assured for now. I am not suited to wield power, but some others are." Dumbledore paused briefly, then smiled and greeted several students. "Fudge and Umbridge hold high positions, but they cannot defy the will of the entire wizarding world. The trial will not be delayed for long. Perhaps I will not be sitting in the jury seat, but rather as a representative, defending Sirius."

"Defend what?"

"The information you and your friends have been searching for recently concerns concealing illegal Animagus activities, failing to file complaints through normal channels, and causing panic through unauthorized prison breaks."

The old headmaster's voice was calm and gentle: "Don't worry, Harry. Sirius is my comrade-in-arms. We fought against dark wizards together. My negligence twelve years ago led to a wrongful conviction, but it won't happen again this time."

“I understand.” Harry’s expression was complicated.

Professor Flitwick had already come to greet them.

Harry joined the Gryffindor line and watched silently as several professors whispered among themselves, seemingly discussing specific teaching methods. Then the other professors stepped back to stand guard at the door, and Professor Flitwick stepped forward.

"Does anyone still remember what the Patronus Charm is?" The half-fairy pressed her wand to her throat, her high-pitched voice echoing.

Before Harry could react, he caught a glimpse of a blur in the corner of his eye, and Hermione instinctively raised one hand high.

Professor Flitwick's gaze swept across the crowd, lingering on the Gryffindor line before pausing briefly: "Weasley... Mr. Ron Weasley, you answer."

Ron was a little confused and stammered as he answered:
"The Patronus Charm... The Patronus Charm is a defensive spell, an extremely powerful ancient magic. It can be used to transmit messages and ward off many dark creatures, Dementors, Groundbats, and... Howling Banshees!"

Ron became more and more confident and fluent as he spoke, even though Hermione kept giving him meaningful glances, indicating that he had missed a lot of important information:

"...Moreover, the appearance is cool and the difficulty is extremely high. Summoning a physical guardian deity is itself a symbol of powerful magic."

The last paragraph reveals Ron's true thoughts.

“Very good, it seems your knowledge didn’t go down with the Christmas pie and roast chicken. Gryffindor +3 points.”

Flitwick followed Ron's words and began to explain the key points of spellcasting. In fact, he knew very well that if Miss Granger had answered, the relevant knowledge would have been more organized and clear. This question would have earned Gryffindor at least 5 points, but it would have taken longer.

Compared to reviewing detailed theoretical knowledge, tonight's practical lesson is the focus.

"You need to remember that the most special thing about the Guardian Charm is that the effect of the spell is closely related to the caster's emotions. To summon a physical Guardian, you need to go through your memories, relive happy emotions, and then have a firm belief in protecting it."

"Now, let's hand the podium over to Professor Levent, who will lead us in practical exercises."

"..."

Fifteen minutes before eight o'clock, Melvin walked briskly to the young wizard. He was wearing a light brown trench coat, similar in style to a wizard's robe, with black hair and black eyes, his eyes smiling as gently as blue flames.

Just standing there makes people feel happy.

Perhaps this is why Professor Levent was chosen to provide practical guidance.

Some of the young wizards whispered among themselves, a hint of anticipation in their hearts.

“Professor Flitwick, the lecturer for this class, led us through the review very quickly, trying to give you more time to practice. But before that, we need to clarify a few things.” Looking at the bright eyes of the young wizards before him, Melvin nodded with satisfaction: “I think everyone here is also curious, with the snow still frozen, why leave the warm and comfortable Great Hall and waste time and energy setting up the classroom in the open space at the school gate?”

A few students realized the problem when they saw the notice on the bulletin board, but they didn't have a chance to ask questions. Other students, after being reminded, also realized the unique venue setup.

"Because of the habits of Dementors."

Melvin asked and answered himself, without pressing his wand to his throat, yet his gentle voice carried throughout the space, as if whispering in everyone's ear.

He pointed his wand at the northwest corner of the sky, where a crescent moon hung in the air, its lower half obscured by dark clouds. These clouds were thick fog created by the gathering of Dementors, and within the swirling fog were faintly visible shadows, carrying an inexplicable eeriness, like bats fluttering in the night.

"All known Dementors come from the depths of Azkaban, a graveyard of bones piled high with the bones of suffering and despair. The souls of the poor wander in those graves, and despair and suffering give birth to monsters from the darkness."

Melvin said softly, "Before the Ministry of Magic conquered Azkaban, Dementors were hunters in the clouds and fog. When human vision was blocked, they could sense the emotions of wizards around them through their sense of smell, and then hunt them down, feeding on their happy memories."

"Hunter wizard?"

The young wizards exchanged glances; although the bizarre analogy came from a Muggle studies professor, it still sounded unsettling.

"We questioned the Aurors stationed at Hogsmeade, and it turns out that these Dementors have been roaming the skies of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts ever since Sirius Black escaped from prison. Due to the Ministry of Magic's ban and the supervision of the Aurors and professors, they haven't been able to obtain any food, or happiness, for the past six months."

Melvin softened his tone: "Dementors have no thoughts or intelligence, and therefore no self-control. Just as a starving beast will attack a human, so too will a hungry Dementor."

Percy, sitting in the front row of Gryffindor, frowned: "No wonder they crashed onto the Express at the start of the school year and onto the Quidditch pitch during the game. Were they starving?"

"Yes, the first two attempts were rejected, but beasts don't learn their lesson."

Melvin said quietly, "You went home for Christmas, leaving Hogwarts empty for several weeks. Now that you've returned from your happy holidays, the castle is once again emitting the aroma of food, even more tempting than before."

I don't know when, but the barrier against the cold wind disappeared.

A cold wind swept by, and the young wizards standing in the open space couldn't help but shrink their necks and shiver.

"I need to remind you that your minds are filled with happy holiday memories, but behind you lies Hogwarts, which desperately needs your protection. The conditions for casting the Patronus Charm are all in place..."

Melvin paused for a moment, then smiled. "Now, let's begin practicing!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the sound of a cloak fluttering in the clouds above echoed through the sky.

The young wizards looked up and their eyes widened instantly.

In the calm night sky, cloaks that flutter like bat wings are now present, as if there is some tempting delicacy here. Soft blue flames surround them, and the cloaks of Dementors are illuminated, their eye sockets empty and void, floating with dark mist.

A biting cold fog was slowly enveloping the area, and the temperature difference caused the air to begin to move, making the open space resemble a cave inhabited by bats.

"The professor will protect us, right?" Ron muttered.

"After we pass out?" Harry gripped his wand tightly, took a deep breath, and prepared himself. "We need to lie down sooner rather than later; there aren't many empty beds in the infirmary."

“I won’t faint when facing Dementors.” Ron also took out his wand and gripped it tightly.

"Spread out! Lower-grade students, go to the back!" Student Council member Percy shouted.

The student ranks did not respond, and some students panicked, running around like headless flies. A buzzing noise began to spread, drowning out the orders of the leaders, and panic was brewing.

Amidst the cacophony of shouts, a booming voice broke through the noise. Cedric, wand pressed against his throat, called out in a deep voice, "Hufflepuff Quidditch players, Eagle Head formation, push the students below the third year to the back!"

The Eagles formation is a basic tactic of Quidditch teams. It allows three players to work together to force opposing players in a specific direction.

With Cedric in command, Hufflepuff suddenly had a leader. The older students moved forward and the younger students moved backward. Although they couldn't maintain perfect order, they had begun to form a defensive formation.

The other three houses followed suit. A few third-year students in Slytherin were unwilling to admit defeat and tried to stand in front, but the Quidditch players from Slytherin were all tall and strong, and they grabbed Malfoy by the back of his collar and dragged him to the back.

In less than half a minute, the Dementor arrived.

A chilling wind, carrying white mist, swept over them, and eerie magic descended, making their minds slightly fuzzy. Negative emotions welled up in their minds, and they even stuttered while chanting incantations.

The eight prefects from each college retreated in unison, as if something had seeped into their minds through their breath and reality during that brief eye contact, as if they were exposed to the freezing cold in their pajamas, their bodies stiff with cold.

For some reason, the Dementors did not press their advantage and advance.

[Expected Guardian]

Harry and Hermione, who were standing in the back row, cast the spell first.

Cedric followed closely behind, then Percy and Penelope of Ravenclaw; by the time the average student realized it, it was already the fourth batch.

A streak of silvery-white light shone in the snow, illuminating the entire area. The people in front were almost entirely orbs of light with nascent but indistinct outlines, while the others were wisps of silver mist, complementing each other like fluffy cotton candy with sugar strands, crashing towards the Dementors.

“I definitely won’t faint this time!” Harry shouted through gritted teeth.

Hovering in mid-air, the Dementors, having taken a short rest, also began their attack, charging forward as if on command, colliding with these nascent guardian deities.

What was initially thought to be a difficult, evenly matched battle turned out to be a complete rout. With a crackling sound, the Dementors vanished like punctured balloons.

The young wizards stared blankly at the sky, their wands still raised high, not yet brought back down.

“Boggart?” Harry stood there, stunned.

"Practice is over. The real battle begins now."

Melvin's voice, tinged with laughter, rang out, followed by an even more chilling chill that made their very souls tremble. In just a few seconds, they felt as if they had fallen into a frozen black lake.

(End of this chapter)