Chapter 311: Voldemort's Defense Against the Dark Arts Class
Riddle did have a point — at least, that was what Harry found himself thinking.
Still, this was supposed to be a Defense Against the Dark Arts class, not Muggle Studies.
Yet from Riddle's perspective, he wasn't digressing. He was addressing a threat he believed wizards had ignored for far too long — a danger that, in his eyes, surpassed even the Dark Arts.
Certainly, someone could have taught this in Muggle Studies. But no one ever had. Perhaps wizards had simply dismissed the idea from the beginning.
But the focus of Defense Against the Dark Arts, as Riddle reminded them, was defense.
And if — as he said — Muggle firearms counted as a form of "black magic," then the question naturally followed:
How were they supposed to defend themselves?
How could a second-year wizard deal with something so lethal?
On the platform, Riddle seemed to hear Harry's thoughts.
"Some students may be wondering," he said lightly, "if all this proves is that Muggles are more dangerous than we assumed… that perhaps we are the ones who need protection."
A few students shifted uneasily.
"But this is Defense Against the Dark Arts," he continued smoothly. "You expect me to tell you how to defend yourselves. So you may be thinking — 'Professor, if you compare Muggle weapons to dark magic, shouldn't you also explain how to counter them? Otherwise this is no different from a Muggle Studies lecture.'"
Eyes widened across the room.
They knew exactly where Professor Riddle was going with this.
And truthfully… after hearing what he had said so far, many had already lost confidence in the wizarding world's future.
A few Muggle-born students were already wondering if they should study a few Muggle courses during the summer.
But now, with that single reminder, Riddle brought them back to reality: this was a Defence Against the Dark Arts class.
And in this classroom, those terrifying Muggle weapons were simply another form of dark magic.
This was only a second-year course.
Meaning the danger he'd described could be countered with magic they were already learning.
Riddle's tone grew lighter, almost casual. The image on the enchanted screen shifted to show a Muggle holding a gun.
"Yes," he said. "I believe you've guessed it."
"It can be dealt with using simple magic."
Annotations appeared on the edges of the picture, but no one paid attention. Every eye was fixed on the professor.
"The weapons of the Muggle world," Riddle said, "their destructive power, their range, and their ease of use — especially compared to learning magic — make them important to mention here. Their danger is real. That is why you must understand them."
"If you ignore this, the most likely outcome is simple."
A beat of silence.
"Death by firearm."
A ripple went through the classroom.
"I am not exaggerating," Riddle said calmly. "Picture it. One night, you step out of the Leaky Cauldron onto a Muggle street. A skinny, drunken Muggle pulls out a ridiculous little object and points it at you."
Everyone held their breath.
"Good," Riddle said, pleased. "You understand."
"If that bullet strikes your head or heart, you die."
"Killed by a 50-gallon gunpowder weapon — one of the most common in the Muggle world."
"And it won't matter how well you perform in Transfiguration. Or how many Outstanding marks you have in Charms."
"Because you will already be dead."
He let the weight of that settle before gesturing toward the image.
"Now, observe the areas I've marked."
Gasps rose from the class.
It was so simple.
Almost disappointingly simple.
If this was all it took, even first-years could manage it.
"Yes," Riddle said mildly. "All you need is Transfiguration. You do not need to visualize a specific new form. Simply aim at the weapon — or, if your reaction is fast enough, transfigure the bullet mid-flight."
"As for the spellwork required to affect the weapon itself — any student of Transfiguration can do it."
"But bullet deformation," he added, "is at the sixth-year level."
He clearly did not intend to explain further.
A hand shot up.
Riddle blinked — actually startled.
Michael Corner had raised his hand.
In the dim classroom, only his white teeth had been visible.
"Ahem. Yes, Mr. Corner?"
"Professor Riddle… why does bullet deformation require sixth-year proficiency? It's tiny. Shouldn't that make it easier? In first year we transformed mice into snuffboxes. Isn't changing a living creature harder than an inanimate object?"
"A reasonable question," Riddle said.
"Transforming the bullet itself is difficult because of the reaction speed. You learn silent spellcasting in sixth year — that is, casting without speaking."
"When something is moving faster than the eye can follow, you do not have time to chant an incantation. Only silent magic — pure intent — can keep pace with the bullet."
"Any other questions?"
None.
"Good. Then let's continue."
"There are two reasons why you don't need to visualize what the gun transforms into."
"First: a gun is a delicate device. The smallest change in its inner structure renders it useless. Its ignition relies on precise gunpowder ratios. Any magical interference destabilizes the entire mechanism."
"Second: reaction speed. If you pause to think, to decide what you want the gun to become… you will be shot before you complete the Transfiguration."
He checked the time and flicked his wand.
Lights brightened.
The curtain snapped upward.
The projector shut off.
"Longbottom," Riddle said suddenly, "class isn't over yet."
Neville froze mid-stand.
"I—I just saw Leif wasn't here and thought…"
"Oh? I assumed you felt your pet was bored and sent him for a walk." Riddle raised an eyebrow, flicked his wand, and a toad flew neatly into Neville's arms.
Neville nearly burst into tears of relief.
Harry rubbed his face in embarrassment.
Even in front of Voldemort, he thought helplessly, Neville hasn't changed at all. He still cares more about that toad than his own life.
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