Every student dreamed of learning how to defeat a vampire, face down a werewolf, deal with a troll, a vengeful spirit, or any terrifying magical creature.
Of course, none of that was ever going to happen in first year. Still, they all hoped for something exciting. Instead, excitement was the last thing this class offered.
Defense Against the Dark Arts was a disappointment from the very start. Beyond the overwhelming smell of garlic, there was also a strange odor clinging to the professor—specifically to his turban, which he claimed had been gifted by an African prince.
He stuttered to get even two words out, failed to teach anything useful, and every question from a student was met with a pitiful excuse for an answer.
In the end, the class everyone had been most eager for turned out to be the most disappointing. No one looked forward to the next lesson. Most just wanted a long bath to scrub the garlic stench from their robes.
One truth became painfully clear: the worst class wasn't History of Magic anymore—it was Defense Against the Dark Arts, which, sadly for Professor Quirrell, was quite the accomplishment.
Many students began to wonder why someone like him had been hired at all. But there were no answers, only complaints.
It was Friday morning. Noah was inside his suitcase, wearing only shorts and dripping with sweat.
"Nineteen… twenty." He counted out loud before letting his body drop flat on the floor, finishing another set of push-ups. This was already his third round of the morning.
Rolling onto his back, he muttered, "I hope puberty kicks in soon. Some hormones would help build these muscles."
He lay there for a while, resting before pulling himself back up. Since arriving at Hogwarts, he hadn't been keeping up with training as intensely as before. He was waiting for his body to start growing before resuming his old rhythm.
Still, when he did decide to exercise, he went hard, making up for the lost intensity. Of course, the body was only one pillar of strength for a wizard. There was only so much it could truly influence.
Even if he had a bodybuilder's frame, it wouldn't make him cast spells any better.
He thought about the professors at school. None of them had particularly healthy or muscular bodies, and yet all were accomplished wizards. Dumbledore, for example, was ancient, but still the strongest of them all—at least, as far as Noah knew.
So he understood there was no need to overdo it physically. Focusing on mind and magic was far more important. The mind and magic had no clear limits. Creativity, time, and training—that was what determined true strength.
Of course, if he could ever break the body's limits, that would change everything. A wizard with superhuman strength would be terrifying. Unfortunately, he saw no simple path to achieving that.
Maybe if I locked myself in a lab for years, experimenting with different genetics—giants, trolls, werewolves—I could manage something.
Leaving the suitcase, Noah went to shower and get ready for the day, still turning over thoughts of power in his mind.
The professors don't see me as a threat. And they're not wrong—no student my age using conventional magic could threaten experienced wizards… A sly grin tugged at his lips. I wonder what would happen if I went all out?
After showering, he returned to the dorm, finding his three friends already awake.
"Exercising again?" Anthony asked, struggling to pull on his uniform.
"Yeah. You guys should try it with me sometime," Noah replied, though he already knew that wasn't happening.
"I'll say the same thing I said the day before yesterday," Terry grumbled, clearly annoyed at the very mention of exercise. "Not even in my dreams am I waking up early for that."
Noah shrugged. "Suit yourselves. Come on, I'm starving. Hope they've got pies today."
The four of them reached the Great Hall a little past 7:40, right when it was most crowded.
As usual during breakfast, the sky filled with hundreds of owls carrying letters and parcels, swooping down to deliver the morning mail.
Night, Noah's owl, came in weighed down with so many letters and packages that Noah couldn't help laughing at her annoyed glare.
"Rough morning, huh?" He chuckled, scratching her head affectionately.
"All from your family?" Michael asked, as he received a few letters of his own.
"You could say that." Noah spotted one from the Flamels, but he didn't count them as separate from family.
He reached for the pie he'd set aside on his plate, only to find it missing.
'Huh?'
Looking up, he spotted Night flying off, a pie and two slices of bread clutched in her beak.
"Hey, that pie's mine!" he shouted, half-rising to grab it, but Night was already airborne. "I'll get you back for this later," he muttered with a smile. It wasn't like pies were in short supply.
Except… when he looked around the table, there were none left.
"Damn it." He had to settle for porridge, which was good too—but still, no pie.
He set aside the letters to read and reply to later, the boxes of chocolates as well. The only thing he kept was the newspaper, which he opened immediately.
The bold headline caught his attention: Attempted Robbery at Gringotts.
"Who'd be crazy enough to try that?" Terry asked, peering over his shoulder.
"Someone desperate," Noah murmured, glancing up at the staff table—but Quirrell wasn't there.
"Every time I go in there, I feel spooked," Terry added with a shiver. "The way those goblins stare at you with those eyes… like they hate you."
Noah laughed, biting into his toast.
As a Gray, he always got special treatment at Gringotts. But he knew it was all a façade—a mask the goblins put on when dealing with the rich and powerful.
Not that he minded. Everyone wore masks, after all.
Later that afternoon, Noah had his first Potions class. Nothing too interesting happened. Ravenclaw was paired with Hufflepuff for the lesson, and with no Gryffindors around—and no Harry Potter—Snape was noticeably less unpleasant.
Noah worked with Terry to brew a boil-curing potion. Their result was better than he'd expected, considering teamwork usually dragged him down.
Snape seemed to agree, since theirs was one of the few brews he didn't criticize.
Not that it earned them any points. Snape wasn't that generous—unless it was Slytherin. He only docked points whenever someone made a mistake.
"Can he even do that?" Michael complained as they left the classroom. "I mean, he's clearly making things harder for us."
"He's been teaching here for years. I doubt he suddenly changed now," Noah replied. "So yes, he can."
"I heard he's Head of Slytherin. Other students say he gives them points whenever he can," Terry added.
"That's just how the system works," Noah said, unfazed. "The Headmaster doesn't care much, and the whole House Cup thing is basically meant to encourage friendly rivalry anyway."
"So we're just supposed to accept it? We'll lose the Cup at this rate," Michael grumbled.
Noah smirked. "Didn't know you cared so much. It's barely the start of term."
"You don't care?" Michael shot back.
"Of course I do. We're winning the Cup this year, no matter what." Seeing Michael about to argue, Noah cut him off. "Doesn't matter if Snape cheats. If he can, so can we. All we need is to rack up points."
"And how exactly do you plan on doing that? Flitwick's not just going to hand us points," Terry said skeptically.
"Really?" Noah grinned, spotting Professor Flitwick at the end of the corridor, humming a cheerful tune as he walked to his classroom.
"See you later. I'm off to earn us some points." He jogged toward the professor.
"Professor!" Noah called. Flitwick turned, and when he saw who it was, his smile grew even wider.
From a distance, Terry and Michael watched curiously.
"What do you think he's up to?" Terry asked.
"No clue," Michael shrugged.
When Noah rejoined them in the Great Hall, Ravenclaw had gained nearly fifty points.
"How'd you do it?" they demanded.
"I just did what's expected of a Ravenclaw," Noah said with a mysterious smile.
Thus, Noah's first week at Hogwarts came to an end.
He rated it a good one overall. He was learning magic every day, something he truly loved, and doing so alongside friends only made it better.
Even if most lessons didn't teach him anything new, it was refreshing to see different perspectives and interact with other wizards. He already had one or two fresh ideas for spells.
But the best part was the fun. Even if he wasn't always genuine with others, he had still felt like himself more often than not these past days—whether it was his arrogant way of placing himself above others, or his carefree laughter with his friends.
Noah was happy. Truly happy.
He spent most of his time with Anthony, Michael, and Terry, but whenever he had the chance, he slipped away to the school library. Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to visit the restricted section yet, where he was sure the best books on Dark Arts defense were kept.
Of course, his personal collection was vast already—between the Gray family's library and the Flamels'—but information was never enough. And a thousand-year-old school's library deserved his curiosity.
That morning, Noah headed there again. But today, he wasn't looking for spells—he was after magical creatures.
He stacked half a dozen tomes as thick as his arms and settled at a small table for a calm morning of reading.
Madam Pince, the librarian, was surprised to see a first-year so eager to read—even for a Ravenclaw.
Then again, she had noticed two unusual first-years this year. One was a solitary Gryffindor girl who spent hours reading alone. How many Gryffindors had she ever seen in her long career willingly spending more time in the library than necessary? Very few.
The other was this boy now, who, while a Ravenclaw, stood out for another reason. He read with almost unnatural speed, never lingering on a single book for long, and always surrounded by piles of them.
Glancing briefly at the titles he'd chosen today, Madam Pince was surprised—they were about magical beings and creatures. A subject not even taught until third year.
Clearly not homework. These weren't the beginner texts either, but slightly advanced ones.
Still, she thought little of it. Students came in all kinds, and if it wasn't homework, it was personal interest—which was always welcome.
She turned back to her paperwork, leaving him to his reading.
Noah, immersed in his books, neither noticed nor would have cared about her thoughts. He was reading a detailed section on giants.
"Giants are a powerful, near-unstoppable race that can grow up to twenty-five feet tall, resembling massive humans. They have their own language, culture, and social structure. Unfortunately, most giants have little patience for discussion and prefer simpler methods of settling issues. Even without magic, giants are immensely strong. They are highly resistant to spells, making them difficult for wizards to subdue."
The text explained that creative magic was often far more effective against giants—a problem, since creativity was rare among average wizards. Most would struggle terribly against an adult giant.
So direct spells should be avoided… Good thing creativity is my strong suit, Noah thought with a smirk, flipping the page.
The book went on to discuss Veela.
"Veela are semi-human enchantresses from Bulgaria. They appear as young, beautiful women, with shimmering golden hair and skin that glows like moonlight. Their movements, especially their dance, have a hypnotic, seductive effect on most who are attracted to women. Victims often act rashly in their attempts to approach and admire them.
However, when angered, a Veela can transform into a harpy-like form. Their faces twist into cruel, birdlike visages, complete with sharp beaks. Long, scaly wings burst from their shoulders in a fearsome display."
"Well… Veela sound a lot more interesting to meet," Noah muttered with a laugh—only to reach the angry description and quickly change his mind.
He kept reading until he reached the section he had been looking for.
Trolls.
"Trolls are magical creatures of prodigious strength and immense stupidity. They possess rudimentary magic, though its use is unclear. Trolls generally reach about twelve feet in height and weigh up to a ton. They are dangerously violent and extremely aggressive, with unpredictable behavior. They are dim-witted and drawn to foul smells. Trolls have a taste for human flesh, though they are also fond of fish."
Between a giant and a troll, Noah would pick a troll any day. Fighting a dumb opponent gave an obvious advantage.
The real reason he had chosen to read about trolls was simple—preparation. He wasn't planning on dealing with the Halloween troll, but you never knew. It was better to have a solid theoretical base just in case.
By the time he closed the last book, it was nearly lunchtime. His head was spinning with creatures he had no desire to meet anytime soon.
He returned the books and left the library. Though he had said he didn't want to run into the Halloween troll, his heart still beat faster at the thought of facing something like that.
Of course, he couldn't know that before his time at Hogwarts was over, he would encounter not only many of the monsters in those books, but others he hadn't yet even read about.