HP Approaches the Magical World

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"Well, what can we do then?" Ron yawned. "It's too late, isn't it? She got the job and is destined to stay here, and Fudge will make sure of that."

"Well..." Hermione said hesitantly, "Well, I was thinking today..."

She gave Harry a nervous look, thinking about what Jon had taught her to say, and then went on, "I'm thinking - maybe we should just - do it ourselves."

"What are you doing yourself?" Harry asked suspiciously, his hands still soaked in the juices of the "Mortla's tentacles".

"Well - let's learn Defense Against the Dark Arts by ourselves."

Hermione said that her voice was a little unconfident, but the low voice only lasted for a moment, and then returned to the normal level.

"Stop that nonsense," Ron grumbled. "You're trying to burden us? Don't you know that Harry and I have another pile of homework left behind and we're only in our second week?"

"But it's much more important than homework!"

Harry and Ron stared at her with wide eyes.

"I don't think there's anything in the world more important than homework!" said Ron.

"Don't be silly, of course there are,"

Harry saw Hermione's face suddenly light up, with the usual wild passion she showed for sp.e.w., and he couldn't help feeling ominous, "I mean, like Harry in Umbridge As I said in the first class of the school, we must be prepared to deal with everything that will wait for us outside.

I mean, we need to make sure we can actually protect ourselves.

If we learn nothing for a whole year—”

"We can't do much on our own,"

Ron said in a disheartened tone, "I mean, yes, we can find some jinxes in the library and practice ourselves, I think—"

"No, I think we're past the stage where we only learn things from books," said Hermione. "We need a teacher, a proper teacher, who can teach us how to use spells, and if we don't do it right, You can also correct us."

"If you're talking about Lupine..."

Harry was interrupted before he could finish speaking.

"No, no, I'm not talking about him," said Hermione, "he's busy with the Order of the Phoenix all day, and the most we'll see him is when we go to Hogsmeade for the weekend, and that's far not enough."

"Then who is it?"

Harry frowned at her.

Hermione let out a deep breath.

"Can't you see it?"

She said, "I'm talking about you, Harry."

A moment of silence.

The night breeze rattled the windows behind Ron, and the fire in the stove had gone out.

"What's the matter with me?" said Harry.

"I mean let you teach us Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Harry stared at her blankly, then turned to Ron, wanting to exchange an exasperated look with Ron - the way they sometimes exchanged glances when Hermione was spouting out ridiculous plans like sp.e.w.

To Harry's dismay, however, Ron's expression was not annoyed.

He frowned slightly, obviously thinking.

Then he said, "That's an idea."

"What's an idea?" Harry said.

"You," said Ron, "taught us all about magic."

"But……"

There was a smile on Harry's face, these two must be joking with him.

"But I'm not a teacher, I can't go to—"

But Hermione looked at him firmly: "Harry, you are the best in Defense Against the Dark Arts in the whole year."

"Me?" said Harry, grinning wider than before, "I'm not, you do better than me in every test—"

"Actually not,

said Hermione calmly. "You surpassed me in third year - only that year the two of us went through that ordeal together and met a teacher who really knew what he was doing."

But I'm not talking about test scores here, Harry, think about the things you do! "

"What do you mean?"

"If I had to say, I'm not sure I'd want someone so stupid to teach me."

Ron said to Hermione with a slight sneer, and then he turned to Harry.

"Let me see," he said, imitating Goyle's long-faced expression as he racked his brains. "Ah... the first year—you rescued the Philosopher's Stone from You-Know-Who."

"But it was luck,"

Harry said, "Not by skill."

"The next year," interrupted Ron, "you killed the basilisk and wiped out Riddle."

"Yeah, but if Fox didn't show up then, I—"

"In the third year," Ron said louder, "you fought off a hundred dementors at once—"

"You know it was a fluke, if the Time-Turner didn't—"

"Last year," Ron was practically yelling, "you got rid of You-Know-Who again—"

"listen to me!"

said Harry almost angrily, because now Ron and Hermione were laughing there,

"Listen to me first, okay? It's a great thing to say, but it's all luck—half the time I don't know what I'm doing, it's not planned at all, I just feel it, and Help is almost always available—”

Ron and Hermione were still laughing, and Harry felt his anger rising.

He didn't understand why he was so angry.

"Don't sit there with a smirk on your face like you know better than I do, I was there, didn't I?"

He said excitedly, "I know what's going on, don't I?

Every time I narrowly escape, it's not because I'm good at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I get away with it because--because I always get help in time, or because my senses are accurate--but every time This time I came here in a daze, I didn't know what I was doing-don't laugh! "

The bowl of Mortla's antennae juice fell to the floor, and the bowl shattered.

Only then did he realize that he stood up, but he couldn't remember how he stood up.

Crookshanks slipped under the sofa.

The smiles on Ron's and Hermione's faces were gone, too.

"You don't even know what it's like!

You—none of you ever confronted him, you thought it was just reciting a bunch of spells and throwing them at them, like you guys do in class?

At that time, knowing that there is nothing between you and death but yourself—your own intelligence, or courage, or whatever—you know that in the next moment you will be killed or tortured, or Watching friends die, how can you think normally, they never told us in class what it's like to deal with something like that!

And you two are sitting here acting like I'm a smart boy standing here alive and Cedric is a fool for screwing things up..."

He was furious and yelling, but Hermione was fine.

Because this is the real him.

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