At Hogwarts, the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was changed frequently, and with each new professor, the office's style also underwent a transformation.
Wade followed Professor Troka into his office. As soon as they entered, the candles in more than a dozen sconces lit up silently, their flames flaring to life, but the room still felt dim.
It was clear Professor Troka had no intention of drawing back the heavy curtains.
He hadn't added much furniture—just filled the bookshelves with numerous magical tomes, various notes, and files detailing student progress.
In the corner of the room stood a wine cabinet, filled to the brim with bottles of red wine. But to Wade, the liquid inside the glass bottles looked more like blood than wine.
"Have a seat, Wade." Professor Troka sat down, clasping his hands together as he said warmly, "There are a few things I'd like to discuss with you."
"Of course, Professor. What would you like to talk about?" Wade asked as he took a seat.
"It's like this— I've recently learned something. I heard that most professors believe the knowledge you possess already... vastly exceeds that of your peers, so they've granted you permission to sit in on upper-year classes."
As he spoke, Troka pulled a folder from a shelf beside the desk, flipped it open, and said:
"At the same time, I noticed that both of the assignments you've turned in since returning to school were exceptionally well done.
Especially the one on werewolves… I must say, it was an excellent surprise. Very unexpected. Have you ever considered submitting to a journal? I know a few trustworthy editors."
"Thank you, Professor," Wade replied.
"But at the moment…" His expression looked a little conflicted as he added, "…it's just a class assignment, Professor. I don't think it's quite at the level to be published in a journal."
That kind of notoriety no longer meant much to Wade, and polishing an essay until it was worthy of publication would require a considerable amount of time—time he didn't want to waste on such things.
Professor Troka could see Wade was politely declining and smiled, not pressing the issue.
"Very well… If you change your mind, you're welcome to come find me anytime."
"Of course, I will." Wade nodded.
"Additionally," Troka continued, "based on those two assignments and your regular performance in class, I believe your Defense Against the Dark Arts proficiency is quite reliable. Care to share?"
He winked and asked. "How far have you taught yourself?"
"If we're talking about textbook material," Wade said after a brief thought, "then I've finished all the spells from the Year One to Year Seven books. But I feel like I still lack some hands-on experience."
"Oh?" Professor Troka looked visibly surprised. "Then tell me—do you know how to defend against a Confundus Charm?"
Wade answered without hesitation: "Occlumency. Or, you could use a counter-charm like Anti-Confundus. Defensive wards and talismans also work."
Professor Troka raised an eyebrow. "Occlumency isn't part of our standard curriculum. It's not even in the textbooks, not even for sixth or seventh years. That's a very advanced and obscure magical skill…"
As he spoke, Professor Troka looked at Wade with disbelief and asked,
"—Don't tell me you've learned it already?"
Wade nodded.
"Well then… Merlin…" Professor Troka murmured in amazement.
He didn't ask about Wade's proficiency—Occlumency requires long-term practice to master, and given Wade's age, Troka didn't believe he'd been practicing long enough.
He thought of another advanced topic and asked, "Then do you know how to deal with Dementors?"
Wade replied succinctly: "The Patronus Charm."
"Oh…" Troka chuckled.
"Yes, the Patronus Charm is the most effective way to repel—or even destroy—Dementors. But since most people can't cast it, the correct answer should be to get away from the Dementor as quickly as possible, stay in crowds, and avoid being alone…"
Suddenly, a thought struck him. The smile slowly faded from his face. His slightly melancholy eyes settled on Wade as he asked slowly:
"—Wade, you can cast the Patronus Charm too?"
Wade nodded again.
Troka took a deep breath, trying to tell himself it wasn't possible, then said: "Show me."
Wade drew his wand and pointed it toward the window: "Expecto Patronum!"
A silver eagle burst from the tip of his wand, soaring around the classroom twice before finally settling on Wade's shoulder.
Professor Troka was stunned. He stumbled back two steps in alarm, knocking over his chair with a loud bang, and accidentally shattered a vase in the corner.
He didn't even glance at the broken vase. His eyes, wide with shock and a faint trace of fear, were fixed on the bird now perched on Wade's shoulder.
"—A corporeal Patronus?" he gasped.
Then he looked back at Wade. "The newspapers said… after the Dementors stopped the Hogwarts Express, the one who cast the eagle-shaped Patronus was a student—it was you? Not a professor?"
"It was me," Wade replied, waving his wand as the Patronus dissolved into silver sparkles that scattered across his shoulders before vanishing.
Professor Troka let out a breath of relief— A corporeal Patronus can harm all dark creatures, including vampires. A powerful Patronus could even cause vampires pain akin to being burned by acid.
Flustered, he quickly masked his unease by waving his wand to repair the shattered vase. Water and the roses it held sprang back into place as he forced a smile and said:
"You've really astonished me, Wade… Is there any spell you don't know?"
"Aside from the two you just asked about," Wade said modestly, "the other spells I know are all pretty basic."
Troka could tell he was being sincere—his mouth twitched involuntarily, as if wanting to say something, but he held back.
Thinking it over… having such an outstanding student should be a blessing for a professor… Even if that student is a little dangerous…
Troka silently convinced himself for a while before finally saying, "Alright, I completely believe your level is already at N.E.W.T. standards—it's just that you're… still lacking a bit of practical experience, right?"
"Yes, Professor."
"In that case, I think you'll need a personalized schedule…"
Professor Troka reviewed his notes and lesson plans, lightly tapping his wand on the parchment.
"Wade, this is your schedule from now on… It's mostly practical classes, plus some that I personally designed for teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts methods. You can arrange your class times according to your own plan."
…
Finally having sent the exceptionally talented student out the door, Troka nervously touched the curtain that the Patronus had brushed against, then pulled out a new notebook to record the students' performance in class that day.
When Troka accepted this teaching position, he truly wanted to do a good job. For that, he had even secretly consulted some excellent teachers at Muggle schools, asking how to be a good professor.
At first, he worried the students wouldn't take him seriously as a new professor, so he kept a stern face and occasionally demonstrated impressive magic during class to strengthen his authority.
But after teaching for a while, the students gradually perceived his gentle nature and became bolder in his classroom.
As for Troka, his love and interest in this profession was rapidly wearing away, replaced by an overwhelming fatigue.
Being responsible for the entire school's Defense Against the Dark Arts courses meant endless assignments and unceasing classes, and every day opened with countless emergencies.
The students' enthusiasm and energy were indeed vibrant, but their constant chatter was truly headache-inducing.
He seemed to understand why the professor position for Defense Against the Dark Arts changed so frequently.
Troka thought to himself, I'm a vampire and I'm barely holding on; I don't know how those human professors endured a whole year.
Luckily, I only have to stay for half a year…
Originally, he had just thought that the big event in the second half of the year would bring many people to Hogwarts, which might expose his identity as a vampire.
Now, looking back, that decision was very wise. He just needed to get through the next few months…
Troka sighed wearily.
At that moment, the tinkling sound of water like a stream suddenly came to his ears. Troka pressed the communication bean and heard a voice on the other end.
He was surprised and said: "Gale? How come you…"
He glanced at the window hidden behind the curtains and quietly asked, "…how did you get to Hogsmeade?"
After all this time, Troka wasn't completely isolated from the world—he had finally learned that his nephew and the friend he brought along were Ministry of Magic fugitives.
Being on the Ministry's wanted list for vampires was nothing new. Troka had asked Gale and knew he wasn't just randomly hunting innocent passersby for blood, so he decided to protect his poor nephew—but he had no intention of bringing them to the school where he worked.
"I have no choice, Uncle Ryan," Gale said with a bitter expression, crouching in the pitch-dark woods. "This area is the only place in all of Britain without Dementors. We barely escaped here!"
He glanced at Lockhart, who looked as lifeless as a corpse, and asked, "Uncle Ryan, could you send us some money and food? If you have any compound potions, that'd be even better. I want to find a proper place to stay and soak in a hot bath…"
Troka sighed helplessly, "Not now. Wait till tonight… I'll send everything to you then."
"Thank you, Uncle Ryan! I love you! I love you so much!" Gale said happily.
"Just don't cause me any trouble," Troka warned. "And keep an eye on your friend. If I hear anyone in Hogsmeade suddenly lose their memory…"
"No, never!" Gale quickly promised. "We'll stay quiet here, harmless like puffskeins… I swear!"
Troka snorted, "You better."
At dusk, Lockhart and Gale crouched in the woods, waiting agonizingly. Only when night fully fell did they finally see two owls struggling to fly over with large parcels.
Gale hurried out to meet them, just as he took the parcels from the owls, someone patted him on the back.
"You're late, brother," a stranger standing behind him said with a smile. "Let's go; everyone's gathering over there."
Gale was confused, "You know me?"
"What? Of course not," the stranger smiled. "But I can spot a vampire a mile away…"
As he spoke, he glanced at Lockhart, who was crouching nearby with shoulder-length hair, and couldn't help but smile happily.
"Haha, you brought your own rations to the meeting… well done!"
Lockhart's eyes flashed as he hurried to draw his wand but was suddenly kicked over by Gale.
"Yeah…" Gale forced a smile. "If you like it, that's good."
At that moment, several bats flew out of the night, transforming into human forms as they landed, surrounding Lockhart with two hands resting on his shoulders.
Feeling the cold breath behind him, Lockhart didn't dare move at all.
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