Chapter 427: Alastor Moody

Chapter 427: Alastor Moody

Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged glances.

"So," Ron said hopefully, "you just grabbed random stuff from the library and tried to pass it off?"

Fred's face turned serious. "Sorry to disappoint, but we do have some integrity. However, our knowledge of the Black Lake is limited. Going too deep might get us chased out by merpeople with forks, and their pets aren't exactly friendly—"

"Gillyweed," George mouthed when he noticed Harry's puzzled look.

"Kelp, needlefish, and devil's snare... We didn't dare to go too far in, afraid of being strung up by mermaids. But drawing a map of the lake is on our to-do list, planned before graduation," Fred confidently stated.

George gave him a strange look. "Since when was that our plan?"

"Just now, when we were talking. Want in?" Fred asked.

"Sounded decent," George grinned, looking at the bewildered trio. "Harry, your dad's crew has done their thing; repeating it is pointless. It's better to carve our own path... Besides, we're sixth-years now, gotta leave a mark."

The twins departed, but before they left, George reminded them, "Oh, Harry, if you head to the hospital wing now, there might be a surprise waiting."

The trio stared at their retreating figures, lost in thought.

"We should get a map, even if it's incomplete," Ron suddenly said. "It'll save us a lot of trouble."

"We can make one ourselves," Harry replied without hesitation. There was still plenty of time before February.

Hermione counted on her fingers, "Aside from us, including Cedric's group and Valgadu, half the teams already know about the second task. The other three schools might—"

"Maybe add Durmstrang to that," Ron quipped in a strange tone.

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry, didn't explain—I mean, Karkaroff would surely find a way to cheat," Ron clarified, "I have faith in him."

Ron made a disgusted noise.

"Harry," Sirius approached, hugging him tightly. Whispering, he said, "Got word from Hagrid that Moody's injured, so I came to try—"

"Where's the problem?" Harry whispered back.

Sirius disdainfully gestured towards Snape, who appeared oblivious, and nonchalantly said, "I've been authorized by the Headmaster. If Alastor Moody wishes to continue teaching this year, during his recovery, I'll be taking over some classes in care for my colleague."

Sirius immediately glanced at Moody, teasingly saying, "Alastor, I suggest you lay low—"

He suddenly realized his mistake, triggering Moody's taboo, about to face an eruption akin to a volcano. He quickly stopped but too late.

Harry swore he'd never seen Moody's face contort this way, every scar on his face magnified grotesquely, quivering in disgust. Moody roared, "Ha! You think I'm afraid? After being toyed with like a puppet by Voldemort and a Death Eater for months? What do you think I'd do? Cower like a coward, sobbing? I'll tell you, dream on!"

Sirius turned paper-white.

Moody's remaining eye widened, fixated on Sirius. Harry felt that Moody's eye was more terrifying than the prosthetic eye in the jar, even compared to the rage emitted from his empty socket.

Pointing to the empty bed nearby, he continued, "You know the first thing Barty did after waking up? He turned himself in at the Ministry! He's going to spill everything, atone for his mistakes! And you know what else?" He glared at a disheartened Sirius, his face menacing, "I'll broadcast everything that happened to me, just that the students won't be enough..."

"I'll tell everyone Voldemort isn't dead, not truly!"

Dumbledore's somber voice came from outside the door, "Alastor..."

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