0475 Moody’s Lessons (Large Chapter)

0475 Moody’s Lessons (Large Chapter)

However, Harry's concern for Ron outweighed his worry about Professor Moody.

On the surface, Ron seemed to be in high spirits, laughing and joking with their classmates. But the more Harry watched, the more he felt that something was off.

"Hermione—" Harry called softly, careful to keep his voice low enough that Ron wouldn't overhear.

"Hmm—" Hermione responded, her tone rising in question. Her eyes, however, remained firmly fixed on the pages of her book, scanning the lines of text with unwavering focus.

"I think something's off with Ron—" Harry persisted, his concern evident in his hushed tone.

At last, Hermione tore her gaze from the book. Her brown eyes flicked towards Ron. She observed him for several long moments, Then, she turned back to Harry silently waiting for him to elaborate.

Harry leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper as he recounted his observations as concisely as possible. "You didn't see it, Hermione—" he murmured, his green eyes flickering briefly to ensure Ron was still engrossed in conversation with Dean and Seamus. "Last night, after Ron learned about the latest developments in the physical education class, he looked so dejected. It was like last year when he thought Scabbers had died at Crookshanks' paws. But look at him now, he seems to have completely forgotten about it, acting as if nothing happened."

Contrary to what Harry expected, Hermione's face showed no surprise or concern at this. Her expression remained calm, almost maddeningly so.

"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione said calmly. She glanced once more at Ron, who had turned away to reach for a platter of sausages. "Ron is avoiding the subject. He's afraid we'll notice how much he regrets giving up Professor Watson's class. Of course, it's already quite evident—"

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but found himself at a loss for words. His mind flashed back to the Quidditch World Cup, to the moment when Mr. Weasley had praised Harry, Hermione, and the other Weasley children for their excellent stamina while climbing Stoatshead Hill. Ron's face had flushed with embarrassment, a mixture of shame and envy flickering in his eyes before he quickly masked it. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Harry had to admit that Hermione was absolutely right again.

The signs of Ron's regret had been there from the beginning, but both Ron himself and Harry had been reluctant to acknowledge it, to make it too obvious. It was easier to pretend everything was fine, to ignore the elephant in the room. But now that Hermione had pointed it out, Harry couldn't unsee it.

"We should help Ron, Hermione—" Harry whispered urgently, leaning even closer to Hermione, who had once again immersed herself in the mysterious world of magical constructs detailed in Professor Watson's book.

Snap!

The sudden sound of Hermione abruptly closing the book in her hand made Harry flinch. When she turned to look at him this time, there was a hint of anger smoldering in the depths of her brown eyes. Her chest rose and fell a bit faster than normal, her breathing quickening as she bit her lower lip, a sure sign that she was trying to control her emotions.

"What do you think we should do, Harry?" Hermione retorted, her voice low but intense. She clutched Professor Watson's book tightly to her chest, her fingers turning white at the tips from the pressure she was exerting.

"Plead with Professor Watson to let Ron rejoin the physical education class?" she continued, her words coming faster now, tinged with frustration. "If that's what you're thinking, I'd advise you to save your energy, Harry. We all know Professor Watson's character. He's not as easy-going as Hagrid, who would tolerate Malfoy's repeated disruptions in his class—"

Hermione paused for a moment, taking a deep breath before plunging on. "Professor Watson won't go back on his word. During the selection phase, he told everyone that we were free to give up his course without consequences, but those who quit wouldn't have a second chance to join. Do you really think it's possible, Harry, to convince Professor Watson to allow Ron back in?"

Her voice grew more emotional as she spoke, her eyes flashing with a mixture of indignation and exasperation. "He's not the only one who regrets it, you know. Lavender complained to me for hours in the dormitory last night. She thinks Professor Watson should have been clearer and given everyone the full course plan upfront so they could make decisions after understanding the situation."

Ha!" Hermione let out a sarcastic laugh. "As if she could make decisions for Professor Watson!"

"What are you two talking about?" Ron's voice suddenly cut through their hushed conversation. He had turned back to them, his brow furrowed as he took in Hermione's flushed face and agitated demeanor. "What are you getting upset about, Hermione?"

Whoosh!

Before either Harry or Ron could react, Hermione had leapt to her feet. She snatched her bag from beside her, hugging Professor Watson's book protectively to her chest as if it were a shield. Without another word or backward glance, she strode towards the entrance hall, her bushy hair bouncing with each determined step.

Ron watched her retreating figure with a mixture of confusion and concern. ""Blimey, what's she gone mad about so early in the morning?" he asked, turning back to Harry with a bewildered expression.

Harry felt a surge of panic. He couldn't tell Ron the truth about their conversation – it would only make things worse.

"Uh— it's about, um, Professor Moody—" he stammered, his mind racing to concoct a plausible explanation. Seizing on the information Ginny had shared with him, Harry quickly relayed Professor Watson's plan to evaluate Professor Moody's class.

"Professor Moody got on Professor Watson's bad side trying to help us, so I asked Hermione if we could maybe plead with Professor Watson—" Harry invented wildly his palms growing sweaty as he spun the tale, "But Hermione thinks, well, that Professor Moody shouldn't have used magic to attack Malfoy—"

Ron's eyes widened in shock, his mouth falling open. "Has she gone mad?" he exclaimed, loud enough to draw curious glances from nearby students. Lowering his voice, he leaned in closer to Harry. "Whose side is she on anyway?"

"Yeah—" Harry nodded awkwardly, avoiding Ron's gaze.

The rest of breakfast passed in a blur of forced conversation and stolen glances at the entrance, half-hoping and half-dreading that Hermione would return. But she didn't, and soon enough, Harry and Ron made their way to Professor Moody's Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

As they entered the classroom, Harry was struck by how full it already was. Harry and Ron quickly found seats towards the back, squeezing past their classmates with mumbled apologies.

First came the Imperius Curse. Moody enlarged one of the spiders and sent it cartwheeling around the room, performing acrobatics that would have been comical if not for the terrifying nature of the spell.

Next was the Cruciatus Curse. The screams of the tortured spider, magically amplified, filled the room. Several students, including Neville, turned pale and looked away.

Finally, Moody demonstrated the Killing Curse. A flash of blinding green light, a rushing sound, and the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked but unmistakably dead. The silence that followed was deafening.

Moody had effortlessly captured the young wizards' attention, immersing them in these dangerous curses. Even Harry, usually so aware of his surroundings, forgot that Professor Watson was currently in the classroom.

Watching the stunned young wizards, Bryan's lips curved into a subtle smile. He suddenly remembered his own time at Hogwarts, that night in his fifth year when he first encountered the most feared of the Unforgivable Curses. He was indeed startled at the time; the Killing Curse did possess a very effective ability to deprive people of life. But as time passed, after so many years of experience and study, these curses were no longer taboo in his eyes. After all, there were many spells that could cruelly take lives, and these curses were not absolutely irresistible.

"Not pleasant—" Moody's voice broke the silence, snapping the students back to the present.

After the flash of bright green light had faded, the classroom fell into an extreme, almost suffocating silence. It was as if Death himself was floating in the air with his scythe, eyeing everyone menacingly. The students barely dared to breathe, the reality of what they had just witnessed sinking in.

Moody swept the dead spider off the podium with a casual flick of his wand, its tiny body making a barely audible 'thud' as it hit the floor. He calmly said, his voice cutting through the tension, "Very unpleasant, and there's no counter-curse. There's no blocking it. Only one person is known to have survived it, and he's sitting right in front of me."

Both of Moody's eyes, the normal dark one and the magical blue one, were now looking directly at Harry. Harry felt his face redden; he could sense the entire class turning to look at him. Harry stared at the empty blackboard, as if fascinated by it, though in reality, he saw nothing.

"As I said—" Moody withdrew his penetrating gaze from Harry and calmly continued, addressing the class once more. "At one time, these curses were used for cruel domination, causing enormous trouble for the Ministry of Magic. So, the Ministry classified them as Unforgivable. Using any one of these curses on another human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban."

The students sat in engrossed, barely moving, hardly breathing.

"That's what you're up against. That's what I've got to teach you to fight. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. But most importantly," his voice rose, emphasizing each word, "you need constant, never-ceasing VIGILANCE. Get out your quills and copy this down."

The silence was suddenly broken by the furious scratching of quills as the young wizards bent over their parchment to take notes. The sound filled the room, providing a strange counterpoint to the heavy atmosphere that still lingered from the demonstrations.

As the students wrote, Moody turned to look at Bryan Watson, who was almost melting into a ray of sunlight by the window. Moody pulled out his flask and took several large gulps, the liquid inside sloshing audibly in the quiet room.

"What do you think, Professor Watson?"

Moody stood in front of Bryan with both hands on his crutches. When he stood in front of Bryan, his blue magical eye turned inward, its pupil facing the inside of his skull, giving him an even more unsettling appearance.

"Hmm, what?" Bryan, who had been lost in thought, blinked his eyelids rapidly, his tone filled with genuine confusion. For a moment, it seemed as though he had forgotten where he was.

"My lesson!" Moody's cheeks and eyelids twitched simultaneously, his scars contorting his face into a mask of irritation. He suddenly had an overwhelming urge to cast the Killing Curse on Watson. This guy had said he wanted to come and observe his class, but he was daydreaming during the lesson. The irony was not lost on Moody, and it only served to increase his annoyance.

"Oh, that—" Bryan blinked his eyes once more, seeming to come back to the present moment. "Not bad, Professor Moody, quite interesting. The young wizards seemed to enjoy it. You've earned your qualification to teach at Hogwarts."

'This guy!'

Moody's breathing became erratic, and the scars on his face nearly split open with the intensity of his suppressed anger.

"However—" Bryan's gaze fell on Neville, whose shoulders were still slightly trembling. The boy had been badly frightened by the spider that had been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse earlier. Even after some time had passed, Neville still didn't seem to have returned to normal.

"I must point out," Bryan continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone, "that there's no need to overemphasize the terror of the three Unforgivable Curses to the young wizards. They are merely Dark magic that was frequently used during Voldemort's active period."

A collective gasp went through the room at the mention of Voldemort's name.

Unperturbed by the reaction, Bryan pressed on. "In my view, these three curses are just... well, Dark magic with a relatively low threshold for use, not overwhelmingly terrifying. Moreover, they are not absolutely undefendable—"

Plop—

The quill in Harry's hand fell from his suddenly nerveless fingers, smearing a large ink stain on his notebook. But he didn't have time to save his class notes. Instead, he looked at Professor Watson in shock, his green eyes wide behind his round glasses.

'Not absolutely undefendable—

Did that include the Killing Curse?'

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