Second Class — Defense Against Death Itself
The afternoon sunlight barely filtered through the ancient, stained-glass windows of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. But within these walls, there was no warmth—only the cold pulse of inevitability that accompanied Daniel wherever he stood.
The students of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw filed in, some chattering nervously, others curious, and a few carrying that naive arrogance only youth permits.
Their chatter died as soon as they saw him.
Daniel stood by the blackboard, his tailored black coat — longer than a wizard's cloak, more severe than any teacher's robes — flowing behind him like the whisper of a funeral procession. The faintest outline of Reapers drifted in the shadows clinging to him, like forgotten specters.
He didn't smile. Death rarely needed introductions.
"Sit," Daniel commanded, his voice a controlled storm beneath calm waters.
The students obeyed. Even the proud Ravenclaws, even the supposedly brave Hufflepuffs, their eyes wary, sensing the gravity in the air.
Daniel's dark gaze swept the room, dissecting each of them.
"You believe Hogwarts will protect you?" His voice cut through their thoughts. "You believe spells, walls, and your family names will shield you from what hunts in the dark?"
Silence.
"You've been lied to," Daniel stated, turning toward the board where a single word etched itself in black fire: Death.
"The world isn't kind. Your enemies won't care for your innocence. There are no 'safe zones' when you face real monsters."
He let that hang in the air, then continued.
"In this class… I teach reality. I teach survival. I teach… control."
With a flick of his hand, no wand in sight, the torches dimmed, and shadows coiled unnaturally along the walls. The students shifted uncomfortably as the temperature dropped.
Daniel's voice, low and measured, filled the space.
"Some of you heard whispers… That I teach what's forbidden. That I speak truths the Ministry doesn't want uttered in these halls."
He stepped forward, the shadows following like loyal hounds.
"They fear knowledge. They fear you knowing how fragile life truly is… and how easily death takes what it desires."
A parchment hovered beside him, ancient symbols etched across it. He gestured to it.
"Today," Daniel declared, "you learn the truth behind the Unforgivable Curses."
Gasps rippled through the room.
"Some will tell you," he continued, "casting these spells corrupts your soul beyond repair. That killing—even in defense—taints you forever."
Daniel's eyes hardened, ice layered beneath his words.
"Lies," he spat.
He paced slowly, his coat trailing behind him like smoke.
"Taking a life doesn't stain your soul. Killing to defend yourself, your family, your people—that is survival. But murder of the innocent?" He paused, voice heavy. "That… leaves a scar you'll never outrun."
The room went silent, the weight of his words anchoring deep.
A Hufflepuff girl raised her hand, voice trembling. "Professor… why do you teach this to us? We're… not soldiers."
Daniel turned toward her, the faintest glimmer of something colder than pity in his eyes.
"Because," Daniel replied, "the war doesn't care how old you are. Death doesn't care how 'innocent' you feel."
He gestured toward Harry seated in the corner — calm, unreadable, the only one in the room unfazed.
"That boy," Daniel continued, "knows the price of ignorance. Knows what happens when you walk blind into the jaws of chaos."
The students followed his gaze to Harry, sensing — for the first time — that the stories of the famous "Boy Who Lived" were missing a far darker reality.
Harry's eyes met theirs — steady, honed, carrying none of the childish wonder they expected.
Daniel's voice broke their thoughts.
"From today onward, I'll forge you into something more than victims. You'll defend against the killing curse. Against torture. Against control. Against death itself."
His hand lifted again—no wand, no incantation—pure, raw authority crackling in the air.
Black smoke formed before them, coalescing into the ghostly image of the Avada Kedavra curse—a bolt of green, pulsing with lethal energy, frozen mid-flight.
The students recoiled instinctively.
"You fear it?" Daniel asked, tilting his head. "Good. Fear keeps you alive… but knowledge grants you control."
He let the image dissipate.
"Forget what they taught you about 'clean deaths' or 'corrupting souls.' The only corruption comes when you betray those you swore to protect… when you sacrifice honor for cowardice."
Daniel's coat rippled as he approached the front row, his shadow stretching unnaturally along the floorboards.
"I will teach you how to kill cleanly. How to defend ruthlessly. How to survive when your so-called heroes fail you."
The Ravenclaws exchanged glances, minds already spinning, calculating the implications.
The Hufflepuffs listened, wide-eyed, their innocence cracking under the brutal education unfolding.
Only Harry, ever calm, absorbed the lesson like a seasoned soldier—because that's exactly what Daniel had molded him to be.
Daniel's voice softened, dangerously calm.
"This… is not about power for power's sake. It's about choosing who lives… and understanding when death must be dealt."
He straightened, eyes piercing.
"Any questions… before we begin?"