Chapter 5: Unforgivable Behaviour
Harry approached the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom with mixed feelings. Ever since Moody's first lesson, the castle had been ablaze with talk of his knowledge, of his dynamic teaching style. Fred and George in particular practically worshipped the man. Of course, most people weren't aware of Harry's meeting with him after the feast; he had only told his closest friends. They had been suitably appalled, although not having experienced it themselves, their indignation had been drained by Moody's mystique. Hermione in particular was fascinated by what the former Auror might be teaching them.
The students queued up outside the classroom were unusually quiet, their anticipation subduing them more effectively than even one of Snape's diatribes. Harry took his place in silence, feeling himself tense up. Bang on the hour, the door of the classroom swung open, and they heard Moody's distinctive gruff tones, ordering them in. They filed in swiftly, taking seats and fixing their gaze on Moody, who was standing at the front of the room, leaning heavily on his staff. Once they were all settled, he began.
"Settle down, all of you. You should know that I expect complete silence in my lessons, aside from practical work. You are here to learn, not to gossip or socialise. Anybody not paying attention – or worse, messing around – will be barred from the lesson for the duration of my employment here. I'm here to teach you how to defend yourselves, and I'm not going to tolerate people wasting my time or getting other people injured because of incompetence or laziness."
Harry might have been imagining it, but he was sure that Moody's magical eye fixed on him at that point. He forced himself not to look away, concentrating on looking attentive rather than resentful. He thought he saw Moody's lips twitch in amusement.
"Now, I've been having a look back over your previous lessons, and you're badly behind – hardly your fault, Quirrell and Lockhart barely taught you anything, and Lupin seems to have concentrated on magical creatures, good though his lessons might have been. Doesn't look like you know much about curses though." At this, Moody smiled grimly. "So it's a good job you've got a former Auror to put you through your paces isn't it!"
He drew his wand – again, so quickly that Harry could barely see the action – and flicked it at the blackboard. The chalk rose into the air, and started to write. Moody continued with his speech as the chalk wrote things down. "We might as well start with the big ones – the Unforgivable Curses. There are three: can anyone tell me what they are?"
There was silence in the wake of this. None of them had expected such casual discussion of the three most infamous spells in the world. Moody's eye swept over the room, and he started to tap his foot impatiently. "None of you? You really are behind aren't you… not even the glimmer of an idea?"
Suddenly, to everyone's surprise, Ron raised a tentative hand. Moody speared him with a look, and nodded to him encouragingly. Ron swallowed nervously. "Well, there's this one my dad told me about – the Imperious Curse? Something like that?"
Moody nodded, pleased. "That's right – gave the Ministry a lot of trouble during the war that one did." At the blackboard, the chalk began to put up some notes on the curse. "It takes away your will, places you entirely under your attacker's control. You're barely even aware of what you're doing. Takes real force of will to break out of it – or experience of course. You'll be getting that later in the term."
This time, the silence had an almost physical presence. Hermione raised a trembling hand, her eyes wide.
"Professor… Are you seriously telling us that you're going to be using the Unforgivables on us?"
Moody stared at her for a moment, weighing her up. "Not all of them Miss Granger. The Imperious is the only one with a defence other than dodging, so I'll be doing everything I can to make sure you can stand up to it – with Dumbledore's agreement, naturally. Of course, if you object to this, you don't have to stay in the lesson. The door is over there."
Hermione froze up, the very idea of leaving clearly abhorrent to her. Moody nodded decisively, and turned to his desk. Reaching out, he picked up a jar, and taking off the lid, he plucked out a spider. In the seat next to Harry, Ron shuddered, and jerked backwards. Despite the sombre mood, Harry smirked. With a tap of his wand, Moody enlarged the spider, and followed this with a bark of "Imperio!" The spider shivered, once, and then went unnaturally still. Moody began to wave his wand, casually, and the spider started to dance. A few giggles rolled round the room, and Moody looked out at the class encouragingly. "Come on then – what else shall we make it do?" Suggestions began to be called out, and Moody followed them, almost playfully. Draco, however, was watching the proceedings with distaste, slumped back in his seat, his arms folded. It wasn't long before Moody noticed.
"Mr Malfoy? Not going to join in the fun?"
Draco sneered. "I wouldn't much like it if it was done to me. My mind is my own – this is horrible."
Moody smiled. "It is indeed, Mr Malfoy." He turned his gaze on the rest of the class, suddenly looking disgusted with them. "And you all think it's funny – would you like it if I told it to drown itself? Jump out of the window? Would you like it if I did this to you?"
Silence fell once again, many of the students looking down, shamefaced. Moody shrugged, and put the spider down again. "So. That's the Imperious Curse. What are the others?"
Unexpectedly, Neville was the first person to put his hand up, with the air of someone resigned to seeing something he didn't want to. "The Cruciatus Curse."
Moody said nothing. He walked over to Neville's desk, and looked down into his eyes for a long, silent moment. Then he nodded. "Yes, you would know about that wouldn't you boy…" He turned away abruptly, walking back to his desk, and the spider. "The Cruciatus Curse – causes unimaginable pain to those held under it. For obvious reasons, I will not be demonstrating this on any of you, worry not Miss Granger. However…" He raised his wand again, and aimed at the spider. "Crucio!"
Harry wasn't sure why he found the spider's wracked body so horrifying. Was it the awful positions the pain made it contort into? Or was it his own prior experiences with the curse, giving him a deeper insight into the curse's effects? Whatever it was, he could not keep his eyes on it. He turned away, thankful that he couldn't hear what was going on.
"Stop it. Please." Neville's voice was trembling, and Harry looked up. His friend was gripping his desk as if it was the only thing supporting him. Somewhat to Harry's surprise, Moody lifted the curse instantly. He shot Neville an almost concerned look, and then looked at Harry. Harry looked away. He knew what was coming, but he wasn't going to volunteer it. Moody didn't ask though.
"And finally, the Killing Curse."
Despite himself, Harry turned back to the desk, watching the spider intently, unblinking. It was still shaking, still feeling the effects of the Cruciatus. His vision narrowed, the spider filling his gaze, and he didn't see Moody raise his wand.
"Avada Kedavra!"
There was a flash of green light, a rush of awful wind, and the spider's body jerked with a sudden violence, just once, before falling to the desk. Harry felt his chest tighten, and he realised that he hadn't breathed since Moody had mentioned the Killing Curse. Moody moved suddenly, and Harry tore his gaze away, blinking rapidly.
"A nasty bunch of curses, very nasty. Each one of them carries a sentence of life imprisonment in Azkaban – no appeals. I hope you're writing this down!"
There was a sudden flurry of activity, as students scrambled for quill and parchment. Harry felt as if he was moving in slow motion, still stunned. That was how his parents had died. Neville didn't seem to be coping much better, which Harry understood. Watching the Cruciatus being performed could not have been pleasant for him. He listened numbly to Moody's continuing lecture on the Unforgivables, occasionally jotting down something he felt important. But when Moody remarked that they were the worst curses anyone could use, Harry felt compelled to speak up.
"Why?"
Moody stopped midsentence, piercing him with a glare. Harry refused to look away, and repeated himself.
"What do you mean, why? Isn't it obvious?"
"Not really," Harry responded. "There are hundreds of spells that can kill you, or cause pain, or take control of you – what's so special about these three?"
Moody's stern look vanished, and he nodded in understanding. "Can anyone answer Mr Potter's question?"
A few answers were called out, variations on the spells being unblockable for the most part, but Moody shook his head. "Valid point, but no. There are plenty of curses that can't be blocked. Anything else?" Confused silence reigned. Moody shrugged. "Well, there are various reasons, not all of which apply to all the spells. One general rule is that each of them requires powerful emotion to pull off properly – you really need to want to control someone, or hurt them, or kill them. These aren't spells that you can use by accident."
Harry winced at that, but Moody was still talking. "Another general reason is that they're the most powerful spells of their kind. There's no other spell that can inflict as much pain as the Cruciatus, for instance."
Hermione's hand shot up. "But from what I've read Professor, the Killing Curse isn't that bad." Moody's eyebrows shot up, and Hermione blushed, realising just how that had sounded. "I mean, it kills you instantly – no pain, no time even to realise you've been cursed. Compared to something like the Entrail-Expelling Curse, it's positively gentle."
Moody nodded, accepting the point, but was able to counter it. "That's true Miss Granger, but the Entrail-Expelling Curse can be healed. Okay, you need instant access to a Healer, but it can be survived. The Killing Curse can't... mostly, anyway. But the real reason for the Killing Curse carrying such a heavy punishment – nowadays at least – is that it always has been. Ever since Ministry records have been kept, the Killing Curse has always been listed as Unforgivable. Even before the other two had been invented. The original reason is superstition. Wizards used to believe that the Killing Curse damaged your soul, as well as killing you. They believed that people killed with the Killing Curse would never be able to merge with the Earth, which was what they believed happened when you died. Superstitious nonsense of course, but it had a good effect."
Harry listened to this, intrigued. It was an interesting idea, and it linked well with Ministry law on various rituals that affected your soul. The idea that a simple spell could do that much damage to someone was horrifying though – it went far beyond mere physical damage.
"What a load of guff!"
Titus's unexpected outburst made Harry jump, and he sat upright in his seat. Moody looked at him curiously, but no-one passed comment. Flushing brightly, Harry bent back to his notes, his mind on other things.
"Don't just shout out like that! You scared the life out of me – and what do you mean, it's a load of guff?"
"No spell's that powerful. Your soul is who you are, what you are. It would take some serious power and time to do any damage to it. Rituals yes, spells no." Titus sounded unusually pedantic, and he spoke with conviction.
"How would you know? You don't have any memories before you woke up in my head, and I don't know stuff like that."
Titus said nothing for a moment. Then, in puzzled tones: "I'm not sure… But I know lots of spells that you don't – I've clearly got knowledge aside from your memories you know."
"Yes, because that isn't worrying and creepy at all…" Harry shook his head, preferring not to think about the implications of that just now. He was liable to freak out if he did, and doing that in a packed classroom was not at the top of his priorities.
The second half of the lesson was much less interesting than the practical demonstrations, awful though they had been. It was a little difficult to concentrate on Moody when he lectured – his constantly moving eye was too much of a distraction. However, it passed swiftly, and soon the bell was ringing for lunch. As the class packed away their books, Moody called out.
"Potter, Longbottom! Wait behind a moment."
Harry and Neville exchanged uncertain, almost scared glances. They both knew what had happened the last time Moody had asked for a private meeting with Harry. However, they stood still, waiting for the other students to disperse. When the door finally closed, Moody approached them both, an apologetic look on his face.
"I just wanted to apologize to you lads; I know that can't have been a terribly enjoyable lesson for you." Moody looked uncomfortable – Harry rather thought the ex-Auror was a little unaccustomed to feeling guilty. He said nothing, but Neville wasn't quite so restrained.
"A little prior warning would have been nice – we didn't need to sit through that, you knew it would make us feel uncomfortable! And why are we being taught about the Unforgivables anyway? Surely they're a little more advanced than Fourth year?" Neville looked furious, his eyes narrowed.
"Dumbledore approved it – if you've got a problem, take it up with him."
"I might! What kind of Headmaster hires a teacher who plays mind-games with students, or makes them watch torture? It's appalling!"
Harry cringed at Neville's outburst, although he had to admit that his friend had a point. Moody didn't seem to agree though. He took a quick step forward, a look of fury flashing across his face, and for a moment Harry thought he was actually going to attack Neville. His hand flew to his wand, ready to defend his friend, but it was unneeded. Moody checked himself, apparently realising what he was doing, and retreated. There was silence for a moment.
"Detention Mr Longbottom, for undue criticism of a professor."
Neville opened his mouth, a furious retort clearly on the tip of his tongue, but Harry grabbed his arm, and shook his head warningly. Neville subsided, but Harry could tell that he was still seething. Moody nodded slightly, a small smile gracing his lips.
"That said, I do admire your spirit. Your parents would be proud."
That simple remark hit Neville like a sledgehammer. All the anger left his face, his jaw dropping and his eyes widening. He opened and shut his mouth a few times, as if he wanted to respond but couldn't find the words. Moody just turned to Harry.
"And despite my warning earlier in the week, nice reflexes there Potter. I've trained Aurors who were slower than that."
Harry accepted the compliment with a silent nod of the head. He was still too wary of Moody to take it solely at face value, and his judgment of him as 'dangerously incompetent, very powerful and stupidly reckless' still rankled. Still, he had to admit that Moody was unlikely to give out false compliments, even if he was trying to calm people down. Moody smiled wryly, as if he could read Harry's thoughts, and dismissed them both with a wave of his hand. Outside the classroom, they looked at each other, still a little shaken by it all.
"You alright?" Harry asked softly.
Neville hesitated, and then shook his head. It was only then that Harry realised that his friend was trembling. "That was horrible. I mean, I knew they must have suffered, but that…" He tailed off, looking at Harry awkwardly. Harry shrugged, a little embarrassed.
"I know what happened. It's in some of the books about the war, so… Yeah."
"You never said anything."
Harry shrugged again. "I only really found out last year. You've never wanted to talk about why you live with your Gran before, so I didn't want to raise the subject myself. Sorry."
Neville smiled weakly. "Don't be, you weren't wrong. It's not something I really like to think about – and Moody had to know what happened to them, he worked with them! He could have just said something before the lesson, but no, we had to see it!" He shook his head incredulously, his anger returning. "What's Dumbledore playing at? You'd think he'd apply a little more common sense when he hires teachers, wouldn't you?"
Harry laughed bitterly. "Snape still teaches here doesn't he?"
"Oh yeah, fair point…"
"Harry? Time to go…"
Harry's eyes snapped open instantly. Whatever else Titus was, he was very useful as an alarm clock. He dressed swiftly, wrapping up warm and taking out his Invisibility Cloak. Wrapping it around himself, he cast a couple of Silencing Charms. Now completely silent, as well as invisible, he made his way from the dorm. The common room was blessedly empty, and the Fat Lady was half asleep. He slipped out of the portrait door, and made his way down to the second floor.
There was a small trickle of water seeping out from under the door to the bathroom. Apparently Myrtle had had a tantrum fairly recently. That could make things a little awkward; Harry wanted her in a good mood. He opened the door with a gentle push, and crept into the bathroom. Fortunately, Myrtle was nowhere to be seen. Wasting no time, Harry approached the sinks in the middle of the room, and found the right one. The one with the snake carved into it.
"Open…" he hissed at it.
The sinks cracked, shifting apart with a loud grinding noise, revealing the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Harry winced at the noise, and dived through the hole as quickly as he could. He didn't want Filch finding him here. It was the first time he had experienced the slide down, having been unconscious when he had last come here. He shot out of the end of the pipe at high speed, landing face first in the mud at the bottom. In his head, Titus sniggered, and Harry scowled. He lit the tip of his wand, and set off down the passageway, bones crunching under his feet, the steady drip of water from the ceiling doing nothing for his nerves. He was beginning to think that this was a bad idea. However, before long, he had reached the ornately carved door, and with another hiss, he opened it.
The Chamber was much as he remembered it. The statue of Salazar Slytherin still dominated the room, his monkey like face sneering down at Harry as if he knew of his plans, and disapproved. Despite the wand light, Harry could not see the ceiling, which was shrouded in inky darkness. As he walked, his footsteps echoing off the stone walls, his foot hit something, painfully. Swearing under his breath, he looked down, and instantly turned away, gagging. Despite being stone, he could still identify Gilderoy Lockhart's head, expression permanently frozen in terror, his corpse shattered by the Basilisk. Now that he looked, he could see other pieces of stone as well. Was that an arm? He moved away from the macabre sight hastily, not looking where he was going, and gasped in shock as he rebounded off something smooth and dry. He whirled round, his wand raised, and nearly screamed. He had walked into the Basilisk, right next to its ruined eye-socket, blood and venom dried onto the gaping wound.
"This is stupid…" he muttered under his breath. Shutting his eyes tightly, he cried out "Solaris diem!" As had happened at the World Cup, a huge ball of light blasted from the tip of his wand, lighting up the entire Chamber. He looked round, assessing the effect the spell had had. That was better – there was barely a corner of the Chamber that wasn't illuminated.
"Excellent, just like we thought. There's plenty of space here. And the Basilisk will make a good target for you to practice against. Did you bring the list?"
"Of course I did, how much of an idiot do you think I am? Actually, don't answer that…" Harry walked away from the Basilisk, clearing some space with his wand as he did so. Once he was a suitable distance away, he turned back, entering an en guarde position.
"Right, let's see how much you learnt shall we? Show Moody what you're made of… Attack!"
Harry swung his wand down with a slash, muttering the incantation for a Cutting Hex, and a vicious wound appeared in the side of the Basilisk, the magical protection on its hide vanished after its death. With Titus encouraging him from the sidelines, Harry continued working through his repertoire, pausing after a while, dripping with sweat.
"Not bad. You need to practise the ones I told you over the summer of course, but not bad. Moody's right though, you need to be a bit more controlled – some of the more powerful ones were all over the place. You do realise that you actually missed the Basilisk at one point? Merlin only knows how you managed that…"
Harry flushed with embarrassment. "It's the first time I've used some of these spells, I think I can be given a little slack!
"Sure, if you make the effort to improve."
"You know that I will." Harry fell silent, turning something over in his mind. He had been thinking about this since his first meeting with Moody, but wasn't entirely certain how to go about it. "Titus…" he spoke up, tentatively.
"What?"
"When I get stressed, or upset – whenever my magic gets out of control… How can I stop that? Moody seemed to think that I should have some control over it."
"Yeah, that is a bit of a problem. You've got more power than you know what to do with. Don't worry, as you get used to using more powerful magic, that'll change."
"I've heard about wizards who didn't need a wand though – who could just wave their hands…"
Titus was silent for a moment. "It's true that sometimes uncontrolled magic can do simple things, like levitate something – you've seen that happen. But you can't control it, that's just a myth. You need a wand to focus your magic."
Harry listened to this carefully. There was something wrong there, he could feel it. "What are you holding back?"
Again, silence. And then: "When I took over your body to fight Sirius, I was able to summon a chair across the room to block a Killing Curse. I didn't use a wand. But that was a fluke, not even Dumbledore does stuff like that! And how did you know I was holding back, anyway?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't know, I could just feel it. Better not lie again, I'll know!"
As Titus grumbled at this, Harry smiled. It looked like he had a new task for the year – proving Titus wrong.
