The tranquil hum of a passing weekend was shattered by a piece of news that ripped through the stone halls and buzzing common rooms of Hogwarts: Professor Quirrell has resigned.
The sudden departure, just weeks before the critical end-of-year exams, became the single dominating topic of conversation. The news spread like wildfire, mutating into a thousand different, absurdly detailed rumors before it reached the edges of the Forbidden Forest.
While the younger students reveled in the delicious gossip, the Fifth and Seventh Years, facing their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, reacted with near panic.
"This is an absolute nightmare!" muttered a Fifth Year Hufflepuff, nervously flicking through his Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. "With only six weeks left, how can the school possibly find a replacement teacher who can cover the required curriculum and effectively prepare us for the exams?"
"Exactly! Even if they bring in someone new tomorrow, we'll lose a week just adapting to their unique teaching style and revision focus," agreed a tense Ravenclaw girl.
Even those who had scoffed at Quirrell's nervous energy acknowledged his academic pedigree.
"He may have stuttered a lot, but he's a brilliant Ravenclaw graduate. We were all counting on him to give us those crucial, last-minute tips—the things that guarantee an 'Outstanding' on the practical portion," complained a studious boy, his face etched with worry. "Now the revision schedule is completely ruined!"
Just as anxiety reached a fever pitch, a reassuring bulletin was announced: Professor Severus Snape would be taking over the remaining Defense Against the Dark Arts classes.
The panic evaporated instantly, replaced by a collective sigh of relief. Snape, despite his favoritism, had proven to be a brutally effective teacher during his two-month stint the previous year. He knew the curriculum, he demanded perfection, and, most importantly, he was here and prepared.
Stepping onto the Defense classroom dais for his first lesson, Snape surveyed the nervous Fifth Years with an expression of thinly veiled contempt.
"It is patently obvious that your 'Garlic Professor' has failed to instil even the most basic understanding of self-defense," Snape sneered, though the slight upturn at the corners of his mouth betrayed his satisfaction at finally getting the post. "You will need to exert considerable effort to ensure you achieve even a passable grade on your O.W.L.s."
"What are you waiting for? Open your books to page 494. Today, we examine the complexities of resisting the Cruciatus and other curses designed to induce agony. A rather necessary skill, given your current lack of proficiency."
With the exam crisis momentarily averted, the students' attention immediately snapped back to the more engaging topic: the spectacular reasons behind Quirrell's sudden disappearance.
The corridors, the Great Hall during lunch, and even the quieter corners of the library became unofficial rumor mills.
"He was expelled, obviously. Haven't you seen how much stranger he's gotten lately? He was probably running some kind of dark side-business," insisted a Gryffindor.
"Wrong! My cousin's best friend works for the Ministry, and the real story is that Quirrell went to the Forbidden Forest to capture a monstrous, shape-shifting Dark Wizard—a behemoth! They fought for three days and three nights, and the Professor only barely managed to escape, completely exhausted!" argued another.
"Nonsense! My uncle is a Senior Auror, and he told me that Professor Quirrell made too many powerful enemies while capturing minor dark wizards. He was being targeted by an influential, shadowy figure who engineered his removal!" chimed in a third.
Finally, a Seventh Year witch, known for her dramatic flair and intimate connection to the school gossip network (she claimed to have briefly served as Quirrell's academic aide), watched the circus with a mournful sigh, her expression heavy with hidden knowledge.
Ah, here we go. The insider information.
The surrounding First and Second Years couldn't resist. They swarmed the senior student, their eyes wide with anticipation.
"Senior! Senior! Please, you must know the true, hidden reason! Tell us the real scoop!"
Seeing her eager audience, the young witch lowered her voice to a theatrical whisper.
"The deeper reason for his resignation… is Love."
A collective gasp swept through the crowd.
"I often heard Professor Quirrell talking to himself—muttering things about 'red light' and 'unyielding affection'," she recounted, weaving truth, partial truth, and complete fiction into a single irresistible narrative. "According to my research, Professor Quirrell, during his extensive travels last year, encountered a devastatingly beautiful, powerful witch."
"They instantly fell into a deep, passionate romance. But Quirrell, as we know, is an academic wanderer, a man who cannot be tied down. He refused to stay for a single flower."
"However, his lover was a Dark Witch—one whose love was possessive and absolute! When she realized he would leave, she placed a powerful, draining curse upon him. Haven't you all noticed how pale and weak Professor Quirrell has become this year?"
"He resigned now, weeks before the exams, not out of fear, but because he is on a sacred quest: to find her, beg her forgiveness, and break the curse of her tragic, powerful love!"
Oh… The young wizards were mesmerized. The pieces fit perfectly: the odd turban, the increasing paleness, the sudden, dramatic exit!
"Senior, please! How did they become so inseparable? Give us the details of their tragic romance! Was there a duel? Was it a life debt?" asked a breathless First Year.
"Yes, Senior! We need the juicy insider account!" shouted a group of older students, pushing forward.
The Seventh Year witch smiled a practiced, superior smile. "Ah, that, my young friends," she whispered mysteriously, "that is the exclusive VIP version."
Ron, standing at the edge of the swelling crowd with Harry and Hermione, nearly choked on his anger.
"A VIP version?! She's making this all up! I was there! I know what really happened! It was a terrifying, almost life-ending confrontation with You-Know-Who, and she's turning it into some sappy romance novel for money!"
He clenched his fists, ready to leap onto the nearest bench and start recounting the true tale of the traps, the troll, the chess game, and the final, fiery expulsion of Voldemort.
Hermione instantly grabbed his sleeve, holding him back. "Ron, stop! We promised Professor Swann and Professor Flitwick we wouldn't tell anyone. You can't break the vow just because someone else is being ridiculous."
"But this is ridiculous! Can't these idiots tell they're being conned?" Ron exclaimed, gesturing at the students scrambling to pool their Sickles and Knuts. "If I had known running a gossip column was this easy, I never would have taken the Professor's offer!"
Harry clapped Ron firmly on the shoulder, whispering low. "Let it go, Ron. The truth is, compared to that senior's romantic tragedy, our story sounds completely unbelievable. Who would believe three First Years managed to bypass every single challenge Dumbledore's people laid out?"
"Besides," Harry added, his eyes scanning the crowd, "the real story has to stay secret anyway. This invented gossip is the perfect cover."
Suddenly, the collective noise of the crowdfunding attempt was drowned out by a high-pitched, piercing scream echoing down the corridor.
"EVERYONE! COME AND LOOK!"
A frantic student, clutching a piece of parchment, burst into the area.
"A notice has been posted outside the Dueling Arena! There's going to be a school-wide Dueling Tournament this weekend!"
The students froze, their attention instantly snapping away from Professor Quirrell's tragic love life.
"The competition is divided by house and by year, and they're offering generous prizes for the top five contenders in each class!" the student yelled, waving the announcement. "Registration is open now at the Dueling Arena!"
A Dueling Tournament?!
The potential for glory, the chance to finally test their burgeoning magical skills in a controlled environment, and the promised rewards wiped away all memories of the Defense Professor.
Ron's eyes immediately lit up with competitive fire, a brilliant, exhilarating escape from his current frustration. He grabbed Hermione and Harry by the arms, pulling them toward the sound of the stampeding feet.
"Come on, guys! We have to sign up!" Ron roared, energized. "I was wondering how I was going to properly demonstrate my courage to everyone! I've been practicing that Stupefy spell for months!"
Hermione, though usually cautious, was also visibly excited. "A chance to test precision and theory against actual application! And a tournament means structured, fair duels under supervision. We can use this to gauge our progress!"
"If the three of us stick together—maybe even trade a few tips—I bet we can easily lock up the top three spots in the First Year class!" Ron declared, utterly confident as they were swept along with the surging tide of Hogwarts students toward the Dueling Arena.