Harry Potter: The Golden Viper

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.

Once settled, Harry turned his head, his eyes scanning the room. Sure enough, he spotted Professor Watson sitting on a solitary stool by the window, his eyes were closed as if he were asleep. But Harry knew better – he had seen Professor Watson in action and knew that the man was likely aware of everything happening in the room.

A ripple of confused murmurs swept through the class as more students noticed Professor Watson's presence. Only a handful, including Harry and Ron, knew the reason behind it, and the atmosphere in the room grew tenser with each passing moment.

As the minutes ticked by, the classroom filled to capacity. Perhaps due to Professor Watson's intimidating presence, or maybe because of the heightened tension in the air, no one dared to make a sound. The usual pre-class chatter was conspicuously absent, replaced by an eerie silence as everyone sat quietly in their seats, eyes darting nervously between the door and Professor Watson's still form.

Harry's mind raced with possibilities. Why hasn't Professor Moody shown up yet? The question nagged at him, each passing second adding weight to his growing concern. A disturbing thought crept into his consciousness: Could it be that he's afraid of embarrassing himself in front of Professor Watson, so he's simply given up on teaching the class?

Harry couldn't help but think this, his mood growing heavier. As his gaze wandered around the room, Harry's eyes landed on Malfoy, sitting in the front row like nothing was amiss. The sight of his face, set in an expression of barely concealed anticipation, made Harry grit his teeth. A surge of anger rose in his chest, bitter and hot. Malfoy's smug demeanor showed he knew exactly why Professor Watson was here, and he seemed to be relishing the potential drama about to unfold.

Just as the tension in the room was reaching a fever pitch, a familiar sound broke through the silence.

Thump, thump, thump!

After hearing the very recognizable sound of a cane hitting the floor, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. At least Professor Moody hadn't run away out of fear.

Moody spotted Bryan sitting by the window immediately. He paused for a moment, then resumed his normal pace. He trudged to the podium with difficulty, took out the roll call sheet, shook his head to clear the long, grizzled hair from his twisted, scarred face, and began calling names. His normal eye moved down the list, while his magical eye spun around, staring at each student as they responded.

However, Harry noticed that the magical eye never turned towards Professor Watson's direction, as if deliberately avoiding him.

"Well then—" Professor Moody said in a hoarse voice when the last student had answered, tossing the roll call sheet back onto the podium, "I suppose you've all noticed we have a guest in our class today—"

As if on cue, Professor Watson, who had remained motionless throughout the roll call, opened his eyes at the appropriate moment.

"Professor Watson is here to test me," Moody began, his voice a gravelly rasp that drew attention. He let out a chuckle that sounded more like a smoker's cough, the sound reverberating off the stone walls. "He seems worried I might use magic to remove your legs in class—"

The students exchanged nervous glances, unsure whether to laugh or be concerned.

Turning to face Bryan directly, Moody continued, "I must clarify in advance, Professor Watson, if you expect me to teach straight from the textbook, I'm afraid I won't be of much use—"

"As long as you don't actually remove the young wizards' legs one by one, Professor Moody—" Bryan said with a smile at the corner of his mouth, "you're free to proceed at your own pace—"

Moody responded with a series of grunts that seemed to be caught somewhere between a cough and a sneer.

Addressing the class once more, Moody's voice took on a more serious tone. "I received a letter from Professor Black, introducing the situation of this course. It seems you've already mastered quite a bit of basic knowledge about dealing with Dark creatures—" He paused, his magical eye sweeping across the room as if to gauge their reactions. "You've learned to handle Boggarts, Red Caps, Hinkypunks, Grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, correct?"

A soft murmur of agreement rippled through the classroom. Some students nodded, while others whispered confirmations to their neighbors.

"But when it comes to dealing with curses," Moody continued, his voice growing darker, more ominous, "you're still very inadequate—very inadequate." He emphasized the last words. "Therefore, I intend to let you experience the workings between wizards. I have one year to teach you how to deal with Dark magic—"

"What?!" Ron exclaimed; his freckled face flushed with excitement. "You're going to teach us dueling?"

Ron's outburst seemed to break a dam, and whispers began to flow through the classroom like water. Many students couldn't help but glance sneakily at Professor Watson, curious about his reaction to this apparent encroachment on his territory. However, Bryan remained expressionless, his posture relaxed as he continued to lean against the wall, seemingly unperturbed by Moody's words.

The young wizards all knew that Professor Watson had officially begun teaching dueling in his PE class, while Professor Moody had just claimed he would teach them how to defend against Dark wizards' magic in class. This seemed like a direct challenge, and the students held their breath, waiting to see how it would play out.

"Red-hair—" Moody's gravelly voice cut through the whispers like a knife.

His magical eye swiveled over, fixing on Ron with an intensity that made Ron wish he could disappear into his chair. Ron suddenly realized the gravity of his impulsive outburst, feeling as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice-cold water over him. His body immediately froze, his face paling beneath his freckles.

"You're Arthur's son, aren't you?" Moody's scarred face twisted strangely, though it was still possible to see he was attempting to smile. The effect was more unsettling than reassuring. "A few days ago, your father helped me out of a very tricky situation."

Harry, sitting next to Ron, felt a jolt of recognition. He knew that what Professor Moody was referring to must have been the incident reported in the Daily Prophet. But perhaps due to his wariness of Professor Watson's presence, Moody didn't elaborate on that topic. Instead, he seamlessly transitioned to discussing his plans for the class.

"Oh, dueling?" Moody's voice took on a darker timbre, filled with a mixture of excitement and foreboding. "Not dueling, young Weasley, but something even more exciting than that. It's about controlling minds, murder, torture. It's about the Dark magic often used for these purposes."

A collective shiver ran through the class at these words. Moody stood at the podium, leaning forward with his grotesque face towards the young wizards in the classroom. His blue magical eye swiveled back and forth, as if deliberately trying to frighten them. This seemed to be his teaching style, and it was precisely because of this that he had provoked Professor Watson to come and observe.

With the three Unforgivable Curses: the Imperius Curse, the Cruciatus Curse, and the Killing Curse,  Moody officially began his lesson. He had the young wizards name the three curses strictly forbidden by the Ministry of Magic, and then, to the shock and fascination of the class, he prepared to demonstrate them.

Moody pulled out his wand and a small glass jar containing three large black spiders. The students watched as he began to demonstrate the curses one by one.

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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