HP: Hogwart's Journey

Professor Stan had indeed left.

Two days after the night walk, it was time for Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and when the little wizards opened the door, they were shocked to find the classroom completely empty, not even a desk in sight. It wasn't until Professor McGonagall, her face as cold as ice, arrived that the students learned that, from now on, Defense Against the Dark Arts would be self-study until Headmaster Dumbledore found a substitute teacher.

Clearly, this was something Dumbledore was unable to resolve—there was only a month left until the holidays, and even the greatest of white wizards couldn't simply force someone to teach for only a month, especially when that month was just for wrapping things up.

The first-years were somewhat uneasy, until the older students, looking particularly nervous, revealed a not-so-secret secret at the dinner table.

"Hey, did you hear? The Defense Against the Dark Arts class is cursed," one of the twins said casually while munching on a roasted chicken leg as they joined the Hufflepuff table for some food.

"You-Know-Who—he wanted the job!" Fred said, his voice filled with surprise. "But Dumbledore refused him right away, so he put a curse on the class!"

"Wait, he wanted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?" George looked horrified. "Can you even imagine seeing him around the school?"

Robert, annoyed by their limited imagination, replied, "You're overthinking it, Fred. No one would want to create more enemies for themselves."

"But he wanted to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor!" George said, panic in his voice. "I can't even imagine what it would be like to see him in that position!"

Robert chewed on a piece of beef before responding, "Calm down, George. With Professor Dumbledore here, we don't need to worry about our safety. He'll definitely make sure that... person doesn't get near the school."

At the mention of Dumbledore's name, the twins seemed to calm down a little.

"Right, you're right," Fred said, relaxing and picking up another chicken leg. "But tell me, why do I feel like the roasted chicken legs at the Hufflepuff table taste better?"

Mr. Badger, who was sitting next to Robert, nervously shot a glance at him, but Fred didn't notice.

"That's because you're not eating your own house's chicken leg!" Robert slapped Fred's guilty hand away, claiming the last piece of chicken for himself. "Anyway, I think it's easy to understand why Voldemort wanted to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

George looked confused. "Really? It's not because he wants to create more rivals?"

Robert gave him a look. "I've told you, George, Voldemort's already been defeated by his nemesis, so there's no need to worry about that. We're here to discuss why he wanted to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

"Exactly," Robert said slowly, spearing a lamb chop. "If it's true that the Defense Against the Dark Arts class is cursed, we should take it seriously."

Fred lowered his voice in alarm. "You just called him by his name!"

"Don't you remember?" George said, worried. "Mum doesn't let us say his name."

"That's true," Robert whispered back, motioning for the twins to lean in closer. "Let me answer both of your questions. According to *Hogwarts: A History*, Salazar Slytherin, one of the school's founders, not only promoted the idea of pure-blood supremacy but also taught students dark magic! His reasoning was that to defend against dark magic, one had to fully understand it. It's clear that Voldemort wanted to follow in Slytherin's footsteps and create loyal followers."

The twins stared at Robert, too stunned to realize that their chicken legs had fallen to the table.

Robert gave them a moment to process the information and poured himself some pumpkin juice.

"Now, as for Fred's second question, I'll give you my own guess. I believe that during the dark days, Voldemort cast a curse on his name, a combination of advanced magic, including name-based spells and tracking magic. What I'm saying is, this curse allows him to track anyone who says his name and know their exact location."

Fred was a little lost. "So? What's the big deal if he knows where you are?"

"Don't forget," Robert said, his voice dramatically low, "he has a whole army of Death Eaters at his command! He could send them to your home and have them wipe out your entire family!"

Fred shrugged. "So what? Our house is a bit cramped, but the Burrow has protective magic, right? Right, George?"

George looked equally relaxed.

Though Robert didn't want to alarm them, he didn't want them to be too careless either. "Some families that have protective spells still got visited by Death Eaters, so be careful. The curse on Voldemort's name is a high-priority one!"

The twins finally realized the gravity of the situation but soon relaxed. "Well, good thing he's been defeated. But why do Mum and Dad still make us avoid saying his name?"

"Ah, that's the real question," Robert said, pointing at George. "You see, curses come in two types—permanent and time-limited. The Defense Against the Dark Arts class isn't a living thing, it's a subject. That means, unlike with a living being, no one but Merlin himself could put a permanent curse on it."

The twins exchanged puzzled glances.

"So?" George asked. "What are you trying to say?"

Robert spoke seriously. "That means Voldemort isn't really dead. If he were, the curse would have lifted on its own."

Fred and George gasped in unison.

"I think that's why Professor Dumbledore would rather hire a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher every year than risk breaking the curse," Robert continued, nibbling on a pumpkin pasty, his favorite. "That curse might even reveal information about Voldemort, like his possible location or even his vital signs. That's why I think we should take it seriously if such a curse exists."

The twins exchanged a nervous look.

"I really don't think it was a good idea for us to come here for dinner," Fred said with a frown, clearly torn. "Robert, seriously, if Mum hears what you've said, she'll definitely think you've lost it!"

"Well, this is just my theory. But please, don't tell anyone, or your mother will start worrying!" Robert quickly warned them. "This isn't just a prank anymore!"

The twins nodded in agreement and placed their hands over their mouths, mimicking a zipper motion.

(End of Chapter)