Ch68- Help

Ch68- Help

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Arriving at the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Harry and his companions were immediately struck by a pungent odor. The smell of heavy garlic hung in the air, so intense it was almost tangible. Recoiling slightly, Harry wrinkled his nose in distaste. "What is this?" he muttered, perplexed by the overpowering scent.

Tracey, holding her nose, responded, "I heard Professor Quirrell had a nasty encounter with vampires in Romania last summer. He's been terrified of them ever since. That's why he reeks of garlic. They say his stutter started after that incident."Upstodatee from n(0)/ve/lbIn/.(co/m

Nodding in understanding, yet still grimacing, Harry cautiously entered the classroom, the smell of garlic seemingly permeating every corner. He took a seat, trying his best to ignore the nearly visible aroma wafting through the air.

Nigel's voice resonated in Harry's mind, "Ah, the scent of paranoia. Nothing like a bit of garlic to ward off ancient bloodsucking fiends, eh?"

As the lesson commenced, Professor Quirrell, stuttering and trembling, attempted to lecture on the basics of defending against the Dark Arts. His nervous demeanor and the constant twitching of his turban did little to inspire confidence in his students.

"Today, w-we will discuss the t-theory behind basic defensive spells," Quirrell began, his voice shaky. "The most f-fundamental aspect of defense is awareness of your surroundings and potential threats."

Nigel's voice offered a sarcastic observation. "Inspirational, really. I'm trembling with newfound knowledge."

Harry listened to the lecture, taking mental notes while Nigel provided occasional insights and critiques. Despite Nigel's sarcasm, Harry found the AI's analysis helpful in dissecting the theoretical aspects of the subject.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Professor Quirrell left Harry feeling utterly disappointed. His anticipation for a class filled with engaging discussions and practical applications of defensive magic was quickly dampened by the pungent odor of garlic and Quirrell's evident incompetence. The lecture, marred by Quirrell's stuttering and evident fear, failed to provide any substantial insight into the art of defense.

As Harry and his Slytherin companions left the classroom, his thoughts lingered on the wasted opportunity for learning something meaningful. The overpowering scent of garlic still seemed to cling to them as they made their way down the corridor.

Nigel's voice chimed in, "Quite the aromatic experience, wasn't it, Master Harry? I dare say the only thing repelled in that class was the students' interest."

Harry couldn't help but agree silently. He was about to respond when he was interrupted by a voice he hadn't expected to engage with so soon. "Harry, hi," Hermione Granger greeted him, a hint of hesitancy in her voice.

Harry furrowed his brow. He and Hermione weren't exactly friends, and their brief interaction on the train hadn't left him expecting much friendliness from her. However, he also realized that Hermione might not be familiar with wizarding etiquette, which might explain her use of his first name.

"Yes, Miss Granger," he replied, his tone polite yet distant, subtly hinting at the proper way to address someone in their world.

Harry offered a warm smile. "That's good to hear, Neville. Listen, I've noticed you seem a bit... overwhelmed with everything going on. Hogwarts can be a lot to take in, especially in the first few weeks," he said empathetically.

Neville nodded, a grateful look in his eyes. "Yeah, it's all so new and different. I keep forgetting things and getting lost."

Harry sighed, understanding the challenges that Neville was facing. Hogwarts, with its myriad of corridors and enchantments, could be a bewildering place for a first-year student, especially one struggling under the influence of a Confundus Spell.

"Neville, if you don't mind me being a Slytherin, you can sit with me in classes. We can help each other," Harry offered, his tone genuine. He understood the value of having someone to lean on in this vast and sometimes intimidating magical world.

Neville's eyes lit up at the offer. "Really? That would be great, Harry. I... I could use some help," he admitted, a hint of relief in his voice.

Harry smiled. "And to be honest, I'm not that good at Herbology and could use your help there," he added, making the offer mutually beneficial. Neville had a natural affinity for plants and Herbology, and Harry recognized that he could learn a lot from Neville in this area.

Neville nodded eagerly, his spirits lifted. "I don't mind at all. Herbology is actually one of my better subjects. I'd be happy to help," he said, his confidence growing slightly at the prospect of being able to contribute.

"That's great. And let's partner up in Potions too," Harry suggested. "I've heard Professor Snape can be... a little overwhelming for some."

Neville's posture stiffened at the mention of Snape, a mixture of apprehension and agreement in his eyes. "Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks, Harry," he said, his gratitude evident.

Harry clapped Neville on the shoulder in a friendly gesture. "Alright, see you later, Neville."

"See you later, Harry," Neville replied, his smile a bit more confident as he walked away.

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