With intonation the professor highlighted the quotation marks around the title of the pink toad so brightly that even a complete idiot would understand Snape's attitude towards Umbridge as a witch.
"...deigned to waste two priceless months on empty spoiling of parchment. I consider such a waste of time—an impermissible luxury..."
"...and he himself does nothing but assign kilometers of essays," Weasley noted quite loudly. Quite fairly noted, from one point of view.
"Silence," Snape sealed weightily. "If you have an irresistible desire to express your, undoubtedly, important professional opinion, Mr. Weasley, kindly raise your hand first."
Under Snape's gaze Ron wilted a little, but not more than usual in a similar situation, only crossed his arms over his chest, frowning.
"However, thanks to these classes you should have understood," Snape continued his speech, slowly running his gaze over everyone, "that the Ministry considers illegal the majority of banal and obvious attempts to defend oneself with stupid waves of magic wands..."
"Didn't even take points?" Ron was quietly surprised, tilting his head slightly sideways to Potter.
"One point from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley," Snape smirked only with the corner of his lips, which surely almost no one noticed. "For failure to comply with basic discipline in class."
"Oh no, everything is normal..." Ron frowned even more, which caused modest smiles from those around.
"Also, dare I note that that suicide club in which you study DADA..."
"...he knows?" someone among the guys was quietly surprised.
"...which is not a secret, like anything at Hogwarts, is not effective. What lies on your desks and not otherwise than by misunderstanding is called a textbook, you can throw into the garbage dump, and better—burn."
Such a statement caused approval even among Gryffindors, who cannot digest Snape, as well as everything he does in principle. The professor waved his magic wand, and from under his desk flew two stacks of by no means new textbooks. These stacks flew along the rows, and one copy of the book fell not particularly accurately in front of each student.
"Now this—is a good book," Daphne smiled sparingly, having received her copy.
I opened the book. Publication date—seventy-fourth year. This very edition I had not seen in the library, although one should not be surprised at such a thing—I haven't seen a lot of things in it generally. I'm alone, and the library—is oh-ho-ho how big!
"This textbook contains everything you need to know as fifth-year students of Hogwarts. Miss Granger?"
Turns out, Hermione raised her hand, which I couldn't see—DADA is one of those subjects in which she is not in a hurry to take the front rows, and Daphne and I on the contrary—somewhere in the middle always and everywhere.
"Professor, will we practice in class?"
"You will, Miss Granger. My DADA course involves an emphasis specifically on the practical part, so you cannot avoid the wand waving so loved by many."
"See, Daphne," I began to speak very, very quietly. "The professor also does not like classical magic, but respects it, and even a master..."
"I have already overcome my dislike," Daphne answered just as quietly. "Probably the influence of mom and the elegance of her skills."
"Or Professor Flitwick does not eat his bread for nothing."
"Also true."
The professor preferred not to notice our whispering, as he usually does, true, only if Slytherins whisper and only if it is business-related.
"As I already said," Snape continued to pace measuredly in front of the rows of desks, "thanks to the laws adopted thanks to our valiant hard workers of quill and parchment, you can normally defend yourself only against magical creatures. In the case of a confrontation with a wizard, the use of classical defensive magic, and even more so specialized for defense specifically against Dark Arts, can lead you right to the dock."
"But that's wrong!" Dean Thomas was indignant.
"One point from Gryffindor, Mr. Thomas, for an inappropriate statement of obvious facts. Part of my DADA course will be devoted to teaching you the basics of techniques that will allow you to at least try, with proper luck and skill, to defend yourself or escape danger. Do not flatter yourselves with naive hopes that in a collision with a wizard who seriously intends to harm or kill you, you have chances in a direct confrontation. Miss Granger?"
"Professor, what exactly will we study?"
"Besides spells to counteract that dozen magical creatures and dangers that are mandatory for study in the fifth year, you will have to master the basic knowledge of counter-spells and basic skills of making spell combinations."
"But isn't practicing generally accepted spells enough for effective defense? Because their list is quite large and the same varieties of Protego are quite effective."
"It seems, Miss Granger, the words of an experienced wizard are not enough for you, as always? In that case, we need a small demonstration."
Snape slowly began to run his gaze over those present, and far from every student maintained confidence in the desire to be the one on whom this demonstration will be carried out. Although there were self-confident individuals.
"Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy, come out here."
Ron jumped up from his seat quite cheerfully, while Draco—imposingly and with a smirk. They came out to the professor and stood nearby.
"Swap places," Snape said dryly, and to Weasley's questioning look explained: "We don't want Mr. Weasley to fly out the window, do we?"
Ron frowned, and muttered quietly:
"Who else will fly out..."
But nevertheless, they swapped places and moved apart, and now Draco stood near the window, and Ron—by the wall. Both held wands in their hands and were ready for any mishaps—at least this was read on their faces.
"I dare to hope, Mr. Weasley, you are familiar with the Protego spell or its modifications."
"Yes."
"Excellent," Snape approached Draco and whispered something quietly in his ear, to which the guy nodded importantly.
"Maybe you should say for everyone what you want from Malfoy?" Potter voiced his thought, to which the professor turned sharply to him.
"Two points from Gryffindor, Potter, for shouting from your seat and for phenomenal naivety. You don't think that your enemy, if you come across him, will announce in advance exactly what he wants to attack with? Ready?"
Snape looked at the "duelists".
"Excellent. Begin..."
I don't know if Ron expected a countdown or something else, but Draco attacked immediately, pointing his wand at the redhead and making small and fast movements with its very tip. And he didn't even shout the spells, as it was recently, literally last year.
"Stupefy, Ictus, Expelliarmus," three spells from one series of gestures.
"Protego!" Ron clearly and in time created a film of a shield.
Not particularly fast ray of Stupefy canceled the defense, the air fist going almost on par with it staggered the redhead, and the disarming successfully fulfilled its task—the wand flew in an arc into Malfoy's hand.
"Oh shit..." disappointed Ron cursed.
"One point from Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley, for swearing in the presence of a teacher. So, who will name Mr. Weasley's mistakes that led to his defeat?"
Crabbe and Goyle giggled about something, but Snape gave them a strict look.
"Quiet."
And they immediately fell silent, pretending to be furniture.
"I'm waiting..." Snape ran his gaze over everyone. "It seems, besides Miss Granger no one is eager to answer? Miss Granger?"
"Ron should have used a triple Protego to defend against this attack."
"Correct, but not completely," Snape nodded. "Mr. Weasley could not know that the attack would be specifically triple. The option with a stronger usual Protego also does not fit—the spell is disposable. I hope you know this too. Options?"
"Stationary Protego," still standing Hermione answered immediately.
"Good option," Snape nodded, causing a slight smile of my sister, but immediately destroyed the effect of praise with the following words: "if you want to turn into a motionless turtle, the shell of which is not so difficult to open for an experienced wizard. Options?"
Snape continued to look inquiringly at Hermione, who feverishly sorted through these very options in her head.
"I do not doubt, Miss Granger," the professor smirked, "that you know many different spells. But if in combat you will sort through them in your head just as long and diligently, then you should take care in advance of buying a place in the cemetery."
Harsh, but fair.
"Mr. Weasley."
"Yes?"
"Now Mr. Malfoy will exactly repeat his attack. Your task—to conjure a spell for tying a tie right into the Stupefy ray. This, I hope, is within your power?"
"A household spell?" the redhead was surprised, but seeing Snape's desire to deduct points, hurried to agree. "Yes. I know it."
"Excellent. Now by countdown. Three, two, one, fight."
"Stupefy, Ictus, Expelliarmus," Malfoy exactly repeated the combination, and didn't even cheat at all, as he likes to do sometimes in the Dueling Club.
Ron, full of doubts, a little hysterically, as he almost missed the moment, conjured a simple spell. Its almost invisible ray collided with Stupefy practically half a meter from Ron, dispelling it with splashes quickly melting in the air, flying apart in a hemisphere. This happened due to the "broken" air fist that fell into the formed magical anomaly, and along with this the disarming also dispelled.
"As you can see," Snape ignored the surprised Ron and Malfoy dissatisfied with his success. "One simplest household spell, which even a first-year is capable of conjuring, is capable of dispelling a correctly created classical combination. In my classes you will study such application of spells, albeit at a basic level. Even if not a combination of spells is used against you, but one, but very powerful, a correctly used counter-spell can break even such an attack. But for a Protego of the required power you may banally not have enough strength. Moreover, if an adult and experienced wizard attacks—you are almost guaranteed not to have enough strength. Sit down."
Ron and Malfoy quickly took their seats.
"And now," Snape continued, "we open the textbooks on page ninety-eight..."
The class began to whisper, discussing what they saw, but everyone opened textbooks and even Ron. No wonder—simplest spells.
"...I didn't know you could do that..." Potter's voice reached my ears.
"...me neither, buddy," the redhead agreed with him.
Such classes are really useful for students. There is little such information in textbooks—it must be sought additionally and very diligently, or adopted from other wizards who have learned such nuances from personal experience. Is this useful personally for me? Within the framework of studying the local school of wand magic—undoubtedly. Considering my abilities—not really. On pure volitional magic I can send clots of spells, flavored with the image "Destroy such and such enemy spell". Of course, it's not all so simple, because volitional sorcery—is complex, voluminous and difficult, but the essence is approximately this.
After two DADA classes we all went to dinner, and surprisingly, despite the homework, the volume of which was completely in Snape's style, all the guys looked quite satisfied.
"Amazing," Justin smiled, walking next to me and other guys from the house. "Those few lessons when Snape replaced Lupin, he showed himself very... Not very."
"I think the matter here is specifically in Lupin," I smiled. "Well, you know, personal animosity, conflict and stuff, and Professor Snape very much wanted to convey to everyone the thought that Lupin—is a werewolf."
"That yes, but still..."
During dinner the coin for communication inside our CAM club heated up. Taking it out secretly, I looked at the edge—a new meeting time is set. Just after dinner. Well, let's see what can be there.
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