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┄┄ .•* 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟎 *•. ┄┄
𝒉𝒐𝒈𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒔 𝒂 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒕
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"Today's not bad . . . outside all morning," said Ron, who was running his finger down the Monday column of his schedule. "Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and Care of Magical Creatures . . . damn it, we're still with the Slytherins. . . ."
"Double Divination this afternoon," Harry groaned, looking down.
"You should've quit. The old hag and her class are utter bullshit," said Hermione with a snort.
There was a sudden rustling noise above them, and a hundred owls came soaring through the open windows carrying the morning mail. Hermione didn't even look up, it wasn't like she was going to get a letter; she didn't send Vader to anyone. So it took her by surprise when a letter dropped in her (now) empty plate. She frowned at it, but her confusion was immediately replaced by a growing smile on her face as she looked at who it was from. She turned to Ginny who was a couple of seats away and grinned.
"Oi! Gigi!" She called; Ginny turned her head to her, "He owled me!"
Ginny stared at her for a couple of seconds, seemingly processing her words and finally understanding Hermione, the redhead's eyes went wide and she gaped at her. Ginny proceeded to dart from her seat, making some heads turn at the sudden movement, and she took a seat next to Hermione making the students next to the curly-haired witch scootch over.
"Who owled you?" Harry asked her and she finally noticed him, Ron, Dean, Seamus, Neville, Lavender, Parvati, Angelina, Fred and George, Lee, basically everyone around them looking over. Hermione bit her lip and was about to answer when Ginny burst it out.
"Aidan Lynch!" she said excitingly and their mouths all fell open.
"Aydan Lynch owled you?" Lavender asked with a frown, giving Hermione a one over as if she couldn't understand why on Earth a guy would look in Hermione's way.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked and Lavender went slightly pink and turned away.
"Read it out loud!" Seamus encouraged her and Hermione grinned again and opened the letter.
Dear Hermione,
It's Aidan Lynch, we met at the World Cup. I must say I'm sorry about my first impression. Coming out as dazed and broken wasn't really a choice. I'd do it again, though—even if not injured.
Angelina and Ginny let out a giggle at this and the guys scowled.
You were quite intriguing and I'm not the only one who thinks so. The whole team said to give you their hellos and hope you are fine. I really hope to get to know you, maybe we could owl more often—unless I'm busy with games; you'll have to excuse me because Quidditch doesn't stop. Well, there isn't much I can say, seeing as I don't actually know you all too well.
Aidan Lynch
P.S.: I'd love for you to come to my next game if you're free. :)
"When's his next game?" Hermione asked.
"November," Seamus said scrunching up his nose, "You'll be in school. . . ."
"Oh well, that's a shame," said Hermione with a slight pout, before it was replaced by a smirk, as she stood up and put her bag over her shoulder. She, Ginny, and Angelina left the Great Hall, afterward going their separate ways, leaving the Gryffindor house in shock.
Hermione Granger was getting letters from famous Quidditch players.
"Well, at least the skrewts are small," said Ron as they made their way back up to the castle for lunch after a really disgusting morning of pus and skrewts, in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures.
"Now they're small. They'll be like. . . . huge if Hagrid finds what they eat," Hermione said.
"Well, that won't matter if they turn out to cure hair sickness, right?" said Ron, grinning slyly at her, referring to the time in class when she defended the skrewts from Malfoy by saying their saliva would cure "hair sickness".
"If you didn't notice by now, my hair is awesome. Besides, I'd rather have those blasted things dead in a ditch before they start maiming us all," said Hermione.
They sat down at the Gryffindor table and helped themselves to lamb chops and potatoes—Hermione actually got the pasta, she wasn't a fan of potatoes.
Afterward, she went to Arithmancy, her last class before dinner. Oh, dinner. How Hermione loves thee.
"Miserable old bat," said Ron bitterly as they joined the crowds descending the staircases back to the Great Hall and dinner, grumbling about his Divination homework. "That'll take all weekend, that will. . . ."
"It's not like you have plans, Ronald," said Hermione, catching up with them and Ron scowled at her making Harry laugh.
They reached the entrance hall, which was packed with people queuing for dinner. They had just joined the end of the line when a loud voice rang out behind them and Hermione groaned.
"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned.
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing there, each looking thoroughly pleased about something.
"What?" said Ron shortly.
"Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" said Malfoy, brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet and speaking very loudly, so that everyone in the packed entrance hall could hear. "Listen to this! FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."
Malfoy looked up.
"Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?" he crowed.
Everyone in the entrance hall was listening now. Malfoy straightened the paper with a flourish and read on:
Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policemen") over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and at- tempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene.
"And there's a picture, Weasley!" said Malfoy, flipping the paper over and holding it up. "A picture of your parents outside their house—if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"
Ron was shaking with fury. Everyone was staring at him.
"Well, aren't you a little ray of pitch black, Malloy," Hermione said sarcastically glaring at Malfoy.
"It's Malfoy, mudblood," He spat making the other students gasp.
"You really aren't creative are you?" Hermione sneered, "Can't you get other insults, seeing as insulting my blood has no effect?"
"Of course it doesn't, you have dirty blood, it won't get any dirtier by insults," Malfoy sneered and Hermione bit her lip trying not to laugh.
"Was that supposed to be a comeback, Malloy?" Hermione said with a grin, "You should seriously take classes on insulting."
"I didn't need classes to insult Weasley's porky mother," He sneered and Ron fumed.
"Get stuffed, Malfoy," said Harry. "C'mon, Ron. . . ."
"Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?" sneered Malfoy. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"
"You know your mother, Malfoy?" said Harry—both he and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron's robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy—"that expression she's got like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?"
Malfoy's pale face went slightly pink.
"Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter"
"Keep your fat mouth shut, then," said Harry, turning away.
BANG!
Several people screamed—something white-hot grazed the side of Harry's face—he plunged his hand into his robes for his wand, but before he'd even touched it, he heard a second loud BANG and a roar that echoed through the entrance hall.
"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"
Hermione watched as Professor Moody started limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out and it was pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone-flagged floor, exactly where Malfoy had been standing.
There was a terrified silence in the entrance hall. Nobody but Moody was moving a muscle. Moody turned to look at Harry—at least, his normal eye was looking at Harry—though Hermione couldn't help but notice it twitch over to her momentarily; the other one was pointing into the back of his head.
"Did he get you?" Moody growled. His voice was low and gravelly.
"No," said Harry, "missed."
"LEAVE IT!" Moody shouted.
"Leave—what?" Harry said, bewildered.
"Not you—him!" Moody growled, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Crabbe, who had just frozen, about to pick up the white ferret. It seemed that Moody's rolling eye was magical and could see out of the back of his head. Moody started to limp toward Crabbe, Goyle, and the ferret, which gave a terrified squeak and took off, streaking toward the dungeons.
"I don't think so!" roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again—it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more.
"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do. . . ."
The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly.
"Never—do—that—again—" said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again.
"Professor Moody!" said a shocked voice.
Professor McGonagall was coming down the marble staircase with her arms full of books.
"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.
"What—what are you doing?" said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret's progress through the air.
"Teaching," said Moody.
"Teach — Moody, is that a student?" shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms—and would've hit the floor if Hermione hadn't been quick and make them levitate wandlessly and nonverbally without anyone noticing.
"Yep," said Moody.
"No!" cried Professor McGonagall, running down the stairs (the books floating after her) and pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Draco Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing.
"Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!" said Professor McGonagall weakly.
"Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?"
"He might've mentioned it, yeah," said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, "but I thought a good sharp shock—"
"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!"
"I'll do that, then," said Moody, staring at Malfoy with great dislike.
Malfoy, whose pale eyes were still watering with pain and humiliation, looked malevolently up at Moody and muttered something in which the words "my father" were distinguishable.
"Oh yeah?" said Moody quietly, limping forward a few steps, the dull clunk of his wooden leg echoing around the hall. "Well, I know your father of old, boy. . . . You tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son . . . you tell him that from me. . . . Now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?"
"Yes," said Malfoy resentfully.
"Another old friend," growled Moody. "I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape. . . . Come on, you. . . ."
And he seized Malfoy's upper arm and marched him off toward the dungeons. Professor McGonagall stared anxiously after them for a few moments, then turning around (most likely to get her books), she jumped slightly in surprise when she saw them levitating behind her. Taking them in her arms, she skimmed the audience and her eyes landed on Hermione who had a look of innocence on her face.
"Don't talk to me," Ron said quietly to Harry and Hermione as they sat down at the Gryffindor table a few minutes later, surrounded by an exciting talk on all sides about what had just happened.
"Why not?" said Harry curiously.
"Because I want to fix that in my memory forever," said Ron, his eyes closed and an uplifted expression on his face. "Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret . . ."
Harry and Hermione both laughed, and Hermione began doling beef casserole onto each of their plates. No sooner than later Fred and George had settled on either side of her, Harry and Ron in front.
"Moody!" he said. "How cool is he?"
"Beyond cool," said George.
"Meh," Hermione muttered trying hard not to burst out her inner thoughts of, 'He's an impostor who's trying to kill Prongslet and working with VoldyMoldy'. Fred threw her an amused glance.
"Supercool," said the twins' best friend, Lee Jordan, sliding into the seat beside George. "We had him this afternoon," he told Hermione, Harry, and Ron.
"What was it like?" said Harry eagerly.
Fred, George, and Lee exchanged looks full of meaning.
"Never had a lesson like it," said Fred.
"He knows, man," said Lee.
"Knows what?" said Ron, leaning forward.
"Knows what it's like to be out there doing it," said George impressively.
"Doing what?" said Harry.
"Fighting the Dark Arts," said Fred.
"He's seen it all," said George.
"'Mazing," said Lee.
Ron dived into his bag for his schedule.
"We haven't got him till Thursday!" he said in a disappointed voice while Hermione rolled her eyes and continued eating.
The Gryffindor fourth-years were looking forward to Moody's first lesson so much that they arrived early on Thursday lunchtime and queued up outside his classroom before the bell had even rung. The only person missing was Hermione, who lazily walked to the class, dreading it.
"C'mon, quick, or we won't get decent seats," Harry said urging her inside, as he and Ron grabbed her arms. Hermione said 'Hell no' when they started dragging her to the front of the class and let them go along as she sat next to Neville.
Soon they heard Moody's distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room, looking as strange and frightening as ever. They could just see his clawed, wooden foot protruding from underneath his robes.
"You can put those away," he growled, stomping over to his desk and sitting down, "those books. You won't need them."
Hermione didn't even take her book out so she just looked boringly at the board.
Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled gray hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swiveled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered—Hermione did notice him doing a double check on her when he read her name.
"Right then," he said, when the last person had declared themselves present, "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures—you've covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?"
There was a general murmur of assent.
"But you're behind—very behind—on dealing with curses," said Moody. "So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark—"
"What, aren't you staying?" Ron blurted out.
Moody's magical eye spun around to stare at Ron; Ron looked extremely apprehensive, but after a moment Moody smiled. The effect was to make his heavily scarred face look more twisted and contorted than ever, but it was nevertheless good to know that he ever did anything as friendly as a smile. Ron looked deeply relieved.
"You'll be Arthur Weasley's son, eh?" Moody said. "Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago. . . . Yeah, I'm staying just the one year. Special favor to Dumbledore. . . . One year, and then back to my quiet retirement."
He gave a harsh laugh and then clapped his gnarled hands together. He then continued to talk but Hermione tuned him out, turning her mind to more important matters. She was thinking about the Potters. Since Lily slipped up, they still haven't talked to her, which led her to have even more questions and be slightly pissed at them—she had gotten used to having them around. She liked spending time with Flower and Prongs.
Speaking of Prongs, she had to talk to him and see if he could get her the ingredients for the Animagi potion. She had a theory he could, after all, he was able to sit next to her or hug her and touch objects, so why the hell not? It could be like in Rise of the Guardians where Jack Frost could pass through people and they didn't see him or feel but he could grab objects or whatnot. So with that theory in mind, he—
"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" barked Moody causing Hermione and everyone to jump.
Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar.
"Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?"
Neville's hand shot up which surprised everyone, "Yes?" said Moody, his magical eye-rolling right over to fix on Neville.
"There's one—the Cruciatus Curse," said Neville in a small but distinct voice.
Moody was looking very intently at Neville, this time with both eyes.
"Your name's Longbottom?" he said, his magical eye swooping down to check the register again.
Neville nodded nervously, but Moody made no further inquiries. Turning back to the class at large, he reached into the jar for the next spider and placed it upon the desktop, where it remained motionless, apparently too scared to move.
"The Cruciatus Curse," said Moody. "Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea," he said, pointing his wand at the spider. "Engorgio!"
The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula. Abandoning all pretense, Ron pushed his chair backward, as far away from Moody's desk as possible; as did Hermione.
Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, and muttered, "Crucio!"
At once, the spider's legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but if given a voice, it would have been screaming. Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently—
"Stop!" Hermione yelled at the teacher looking at a horrified-looking Neville at her side, shaking from one end of his body to the other.
Moody raised his wand. The spider's legs relaxed, but it continued to twitch. Meanwhile, Hermione took Neville's clenched hands in her and told him to breathe so he could calm down.
"Reducio," Moody muttered, and the spider shrank back to its proper size. He put it back into the jar.
"Pain," said Moody softly. "You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse. . . . That one was very popular once too. Right . . . anyone know any others?"
Hermione saw no one had lifted their hands, so, she put hers up.
"Yes?" said Moody, looking at her.
"The killing curse, Avada Kedrava," Hermione whispered.
Several people looked uneasily around at her, including Ron.
"Ah," said Moody, another slight smile twisting his lopsided mouth. "Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra . . . the Killing Curse."
He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade Moody's fingers, but he trapped it and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface.
Moody raised his wand, and Hermione gulped. "Avada Kedavra!" Moody roared.
There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air—instantaneously the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead. Several of the students stifled cries; Ron had thrown himself backward and almost toppled off his seat as the spider skidded toward him.
Moody swept the dead spider off the desk onto the floor.
"Not nice," he said calmly. "Not pleasant. And there's no countercurse. There's no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he's sitting right in front of me," Moody said, both his eyes fixing on Harry.
"I don't think that's the worst," Hermione told the class loudly and everyone looked at her like she was crazy.
"You don't?" Moody said almost in a growl his face contorted into a frown that made his scars look more ragged than ever.
"No," Hermione said bluntly, "The Imperius curse is possibly the worst."
"Why would you say that, missy?"
"Because it controls you. It controls everything. It could make you kill others, your family, friends, even yourself. It could be used as torture as well, make your organs shut down or whatnot. The Imperius curse is all the curses in one and more," Hermione elaborated. "The Cruciatus curse second, and the killing curse last. The Cruciatus can lead you to madness worse than death," she said squeezing one of Neville's hands in comfort. "The killing curse is immediate. You die instantly. No pain. The ones we need to be worried about are the ones left alive."
"Well said, Miss. . . ."
"Granger," Hermione said emotionless.
Every student was looking at her as if she was mad or thoroughly starting to process her words and give looks of understanding. She saw Moody's mouth twitch and frowned.
"Now, moving on. Avada Kedavra's a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it—you could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I'd get so much as a nosebleed. But that doesn't matter. I'm not here to teach you how to do it.
"Now, if there's no countercurse, why am I showing you? Because you've got to know. You've got to appreciate what the worst is. You don't want to find yourself in a situation where you're facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared, and the whole class jumped again.
"Now . . . those three curses—Avada Kedavra, Imperius, and Cruciatus—are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That's what you're up against. That's what I've got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practice constant, never-ceasing vigilance. Get out your quills . . . copy this down. . . ."
They spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on each of the Unforgivable Curses. No one spoke until the bell rang—but when Moody had dismissed them and they had left the classroom, a torrent of talk burst forth. Most people were discussing the curses in awed voices—"Did you see it twitch?" "—and when he killed it—just like that!"
"Hurry," Hermione said to Harry and Ron. "Neville" she explained at their questioning looks, pointing up a side passage. Neville was standing alone, halfway up the passage, staring at the stone wall opposite him with the same horrified, wide-eyed look he had worn when Moody had demonstrated the Cruciatus Curse.
"Neville?" Hermione said gently.
Neville looked around.
"Oh hello," he said, his voice much higher than usual. "Interesting lesson, wasn't it? I wonder what's for dinner, I'm—I'm starving, aren't you?"
"Neville, you'll be alright," said Hermione softly.
"Oh yes, I'm fine," Neville gabbled in the same unnaturally high voice. "Very interesting dinner—I mean lesson—what's for eating?"
Ron gave Harry a startled look.
"Neville, what—?"
But an odd clunking noise sounded behind them, and they turned to see Professor Moody limping toward them. All four of them fell silent, watching him apprehensively, but when he spoke, it was in a much lower and gentler growl than they had yet heard.
"It's all right, sonny," he said to Neville. "Why don't you come up to my office? Come on . . . we can have a cup of tea. . . ."
Neville looked even more frightened at the prospect of tea with Moody. He neither moved nor spoke. Moody turned his magical eye upon Harry.
"You all right, are you, Potter?"
"Yes," said Harry, almost defiantly.
Moody's blue eye quivered slightly in its socket as it surveyed Harry. Then he said, "You've got to know. It seems harsh, maybe, but you've got to know. No point pretending . . . well . . . come on, Longbottom, I've got some books that might interest you."
Hermione put herself on her tippy toes and whispered in Neville's ear, "They would be proud of you. They are proud." She then kissed his cheek and they watched as he was steered away, one of Moody's gnarled hands on his shoulder (red in the cheeks).
"What was that about?" said Ron, watching Neville and Moody turn the corner.
"He was just disturbed," said Hermione, looking somber.
"Some lesson, though, eh?" said Ron to Harry as they set off for the Great Hall. "Fred and George were right, weren't they? He really knows his stuff, Moody, doesn't he? When he did Avada Kedavra, the way that spider just died, just snuffed it right—"
But Ron fell suddenly silent at the look on Harry's face and didn't speak again until they reached the Great Hall. Hermione, Harry, and Ron walked back to Gryffindor Tower, and Harry, who had been thinking of nothing else all through dinner, now raised the subject of the Unforgivable Curses himself.
"Wouldn't Moody and Dumbledore be in trouble with the Ministry if they knew we'd seen the curses?" Harry asked as they approached the Fat Lady.
"Yeah, probably," said Ron. "But Dumbledore's always done things his way, hasn't he, and Moody's been getting in trouble for years, I reckon. Attacks first and asks questions later—look at his dustbins. Balderdash."
The Fat Lady swung forward to reveal the entrance hole, and they climbed into the Gryffindor common room, which was crowded and noisy.
"Shall we get our Divination stuff, then?" said Harry.
"I s'pose," Ron groaned.
Before they went up to the dormitory, Hermione seized Harry's hand allowing Ron to go first.
"I just wanted to tell you that I'm sure you're parents are so proud of you, Harry," Hermione said with a sweet smile.
"Is it true?" Harry asked quietly.
"What?"
"That they didn't feel pain."
"It is. It's like falling asleep," Hermione said softly and Harry didn't even question how she knew, he just had to believe. He wanted to believe. "They're watching over you, Harry. James and Lily."
"Thanks, Mione," Harry smiled at her. Hermione just smiled kissed him on the cheek and decided to retire for the day. She went up to her room and fell asleep, obliviously leaving a dazed boy in the common room.
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