Harry Potter: Westeros’s Plant Life 0079 The Class

When Adrian returned to his office, he finally breathed a sigh of relief. Although it was just one of Voldemort's soul fragnts, it was dangerous enough. If he hadn't been able to deal with Voldemort's soul, he might have had to seek Dumbledore's help.

That would have been much more troubleso than now.

And... Adrian casted his gaze on Ravenclaw's diadem on the desk.

Dumbledore would definitely take this item back. Because, strictly speaking, this diadem was left by Ravenclaw and rightfully belonged to Hogwarts.

"Eldra."

Adrian checked the status of the diadem again.

[Na: Ravenclaw's Diadem]

[Status: It has lost its original ability, a lingering obsession is disturbing it. But it is safe.]

'A lingering obsession is disturbing it?'

Adrian was confused. 'What was this situation? Voldemort's soul fragnt should have been cleared away.'

Adrian removed his dragon-hide gloves and touched the jewel on the diadem.

'Hmm, it felt cold, nothing strange happened.'

Next, Adrian carefully placed the diadem on his head. After a mont, Adrian silently removed the diadem.

He didn't feel any smarter.

Which ant... This should be a problem with the diadem itself, and was not caused by Voldemort's soul.

Adrian vaguely rembered that in the original story, there was a tale hidden within Ravenclaw's diadem—that should be the reason why the diadem was disturbed.

However.....

Adrian couldn't recall the specific details anymore. He only rembered the two protagonists of that story.

Those two protagonists had beco ghosts at Hogwarts—the Grey Lady of Ravenclaw and the Bloody Baron of Slytherin.

However, even knowing why the diadem was disturbed, Adrian didn't have a good solution to this problem.

He couldn't just run up to the Grey Lady or the Bloody Baron and say: Hey, do you have any lingering obsessions? Let help you resolve them!

Besides, the fact that they had beco ghosts indicated they had significant obsessions in life. Adrian didn't think he could easily resolve them.

'This is troubleso...'

The next day, Adrian still hadn't thought of a good solution. He could only temporarily set aside Ravenclaw's diadem.

Although he hadn't experienced the function of the diadem, at least he had destroyed Voldemort's soul fragnt within it and had made progress in the Tree of Wisdom's growth.

All in all, these few days had been quite fruitful.

Besides that, Quirrell's strange activities also made him slightly worried; he hadn't seen Quirrell all morning.

It should be as Dumbledore said, Quirrell had probably already "gone to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries for treatnt."

A few days later, in the afternoon, at the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Harry sat next to Ron, occasionally glancing at the door, seeming sowhat nervous.

"What's wrong with you? You keep looking at the door. Has sothing happened?" Ron asked casually, playing with a feather quill—the feather was almost bald.

"Don't you know?"

Hermione raised her head from the thick "Dark Arts: A Guide to Self-Defense," her curly hair swaying slightly with her movent. "This week we have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

The quill in Ron's hand dropped to the table with a "plop," revealing a surprised expression. "Really? Why didn't anyone tell ?"

"I thought you knew," Harry looked at Ron helplessly. "Early this morning, it was already posted on the bulletin board. And during lunch, everyone was discussing it."

"That's great, we finally don't have to sll that annoying garlic sll anymore!"

In fact, he really hadn't heard this news during lunch; he had been focused on devouring his favorite sausages, and was completely unable to focus to anything else.

"Just for one week," Hermione poured cold water on Ron's excitent. "Professor Quirrell will be back after Christmas."

"That's still good," Ron continued to ask, "Who's the new professor?"

"Professor Westeros."

Just as Harry finished speaking, the classroom door was pushed open.

All the students imdiately fell silent, looking toward the door.

Adrian entered, looked at the clock on the wall in confusion, then looked around the classroom, slightly frowning. "I don't think... I'm late, am I?"

The students imdiately began discussing, and chattering sounds echoed throughout the classroom once more.

"Quiet, everyone," Adrian, carrying a square wooden box, walked to the front of the classroom, scanning the students, saying, "I think you already know that I will be substituting for Professor Quirrell this week."

"I bet Professor Westeros teaches much better than Professor Quirrell," Hermione said.

Ron rested his chin on his hand and said casually, "I think no one could teach worse than Professor Quirrell, unless—that person doesn't know the letters in the book."

Harry nodded in agreent.

Quirrell's Defense Against the Dark Arts class had only one content, and that was reading the text from the book word by word.

And he even stumbled over the reading. Not to ntion teaching them any useful spells.

Occasionally, Quirrell would ask questions in a formulaic way, then add a few points to those who answered correctly, as if completing a daily task.

However, apart from Hermione, hardly anyone would raise their hand to answer questions. Because most people weren't listening to Quirrell's lecture.

Adrian clapped his hands, gesturing for all the students to look at him.

"As far as I know, Professor Quirrell has taught you a lot of theoretical knowledge before..."

"Too much," Ron muttered.

"Therefore, this class will be a practical lesson," Adrian continued.

As soon as he finished speaking, a cheer erupted in the classroom. They had never had a practical lesson before!

"Co on, everyone stand up and get your wands ready. I hope no one forgot to bring their wand..." Adrian chuckled, continuing, "We're going to need them soon."

Hearing Adrian's words, Neville's face instantly turned pale. He frantically searched his robe pockets, his voice trembling: "I just rembered what I forgot at lunch..."

Seamus, sitting next to him, patted his shoulder sympathetically.

However, Adrian had already anticipated that this kind of situation might occur.

"Mr. Longbottom."

"Yes!"

Neville imdiately stood up from his seat, with a dejected face.

"Don't worry," Adrian gave Neville a reassuring smile, then walked to his side, taking out a long stick from his robe. "This is my spare wand—it's hazel wood, although not common, but I think you can try it."

Neville carefully accepted the wand, and as soon as his fingertips touched the shaft, the tip of the wand emitted a spray of golden sparks.

"Excellent," Adrian nodded, returning to the podium.

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