Harry Potter and its characters, story, and everything else is © J. K. Rowling.

Brilliant but Scary

▼ Chapter Thirty One ▼

The defense classroom was a bit dark and rather cold, and Harry wondered if that was because Moody's magical eye had no need for light to see, and if the cold was related to the heavy robes and flask he always drank from. Or perhaps he was just gruff enough that it didn't matter.

Harry never quite could feel totally at ease when he was under Professor Moody's gaze, and not simply because of the man's magical eye. That was something as well, of course; the eye was certainly unnerving. Harry had seen Moody call out a student for sticking gum to the bottom of their desk while the professor's back was turned, scribbling something on the blackboard. There was decidedly less note passing in his class as well, after the first few had been snatched and emblazoned in bold, burning letters for the entire class to read. Yet there was something almost more unnerving about the man's normal eye.

The professor wasn't glaring, per se, as he sat behind his desk. Moody did glare, and rather often, but Harry was thankfully rarely on the receiving end of those. After the first time he'd met in his class he seemed to not so much be attempting to test Harry's resolve with the looks, but instead was considering something else. The look the former Auror gave him, though, was always somewhat distinct, a thing he didn't see the man give anyone else.

It had been two days since the last weekend trip, and Harry had found himself certainly more at ease than he had been before. He'd taken to mostly just ignoring the various girls that seemed to come out of the woodwork to say hello to him in the halls, and managed not to suspect the worst of anyone that glanced Hermione's way. The stress had gotten to him, and had made him, well, paranoid.

He wondered if that was what it was like to be Professor Moody, and found that he rather did not like it much. That thought gave him an odd perspective when the professor had asked Harry to join him after class.

"What did Igor Karkaroff want?"

It was to his credit that Harry heard, processed, and was able to respond without the shock that Moody often managed to cause in him. He didn't think about how the man knew, because of course he knew. He didn't think about why the professor cared, because of course he cared.

"He offered a meeting with some of his students, and to learn magic from the Durmstrang tradition."

Moody grunted and stood up heavily, hands on his desk to help lift himself up. Harry couldn't make out what he was mumbling as he did. He watched as the man shuffled towards the window, staring out over the grounds. The professor took his flask off his hip and took a hit before huffing and turning around, fixing Harry with another one of his looks.

"You know what the Durmstrang tradition is, right?"

"When I asked if he was offering to teach me dark magic, he said there was more to Durmstrang than curses," Harry replied, and Moody had a rather grim smirk.

"Yes, there is also jinxes and hexes. Good on you for understanding what it was he was offering, at least, but I wonder if you have any idea why he offered, hmm?"

That had been a question he'd thought about, and rather kicked himself for not asking at the time. He and Hermione had talked about it, and they'd asked Blaise as well, but very little of it made sense. Not even bad things, or 'malign purposes' as Hermione had called them, seem to add up; even if Karkaroff was dark, he'd also renounced the Death Eaters and sold them out, and what was the scheme in getting Harry into a dangerous situation when it would be so openly linked to him? The man had already gone to great lengths to avoid Azkaban once, after all.

Did he think he'd entice Harry somehow? Or rather, if he was, why?

"Didn't think so," Moody said after a moment, "Not surprised, though, cus its not something I'd expect you to think of. You're young and haven't got the head for that sort of thing yet."

Moody seemed amused that Harry didn't seem all that upset by his words, and Harry really wasn't. The former auror was blunt, gruff, and surly; he had no time to mince words nor the inclination to do so; it didn't hurt that he was usually right either, and so Harry found it very hard to get mad at the man. Usually at least. The man looked at him, took another swig, and then finally spoke.

"Did you know that there are people who think you're the next dark lord, Potter?"

It was strange that despite the answer being yes, Moody actually had managed to get a shocked reaction out of Harry for that one.

"No, I mean, yes, but it was just some of the kids getting wild ideas," he said, thinking back to the second year. That muggleborn boy, Colin Creevey, had fallen in with that group. Harry remembered him, always trying to get a picture of the older Slytherin boy doing something nefarious. He'd been among the petrified students, but Harry hadn't seen the boy much after.

"Where do you think the kids got it, boy? No, it's not a common view but it's out there. Lot of folks think you're the chosen one, the debate is just over what you're chosen for," the professor said, stalking back towards his desk, "You survived some of the darkest magic and, as far as they know, destroyed a dark lord when you were but a wee babe. That alone might get things started but look at the rest."

For a moment Harry thought Professor Moody was about to start writing things on the blackboard, but simply leaned back on his good leg and rest his hands on the waistline of his kilt.

"You're the son of a talented witch and wizard, the head boy and girl of their year even. On your dad's side you've got an old family line, connections to a lot of big families, like the Blacks. Then you go and get yourself sorted into Slytherin," he said, snorting at the end, though he gave a look when Harry made a somewhat affronted expression, "Oh, come off it, boy. House pride is fine and all but don't pretend that there's no reason Slytherin has its reputation."

It was hard to feel mollified by that, even if Harry knew it was right. It was strange, really, because Hermione had been so insistent on Slytherin when they'd met, and that had affected his views too. Draco had nearly changed his mind, but Hermione being still intent upon the house despite that, and being sorted there as she'd said she'd wanted, had made his mind up. The house had largely come around to Hermione, at least in the sense that there were few who'd dare utter the word mudblood around her in the common room, but Harry was not so naive as to think that signaled a real fundamental change.

Harry knew that Slytherin could be cruel, callous, and conceited. Draco Malfoy was all of those things, after all, even if he'd stopped insulting Hermione.

Well, insulting her to her, or his, face at least. What Draco and his little gang did in private was a mystery. Idly, he wondered if Ginny and her occasional behavior was the result of spending too much time around the boy. Harry didn't quite understand it, but the idea of Ginny ending up acting like Draco was a terrible thought.

"Am I boring you, Potter?" Moody said, tone more amused than annoyed. Harry realized he'd sort of gone off, and shook his head sheepishly.

"No, sir, sorry… just..."

"Distracted thinking about your house's reputation," said the man, "I swear, boy, you wear your heart on your sleeve. You need to work on that."

"You'd think that might make people believe I'm not a dark lord in training."

"Why? You think dark lords aren't emotional? Often they're the most emotional of all. Some folks look at you and see a talented student in a house with a reputation, near the top of his class, that displayed traits associated with dark wizards and was able to destroy a dark lord when he was a babe."

"My best friend, the person I love more than anyone, is a muggleborn," Harry shot back, and realized he'd raised his voice as he did. Moody just snorted.

"So? Just because some dark lords are into pure-blood supremacy or wizarding supremacy or that sort of thing doesn't mean they all were," the professor said, shaking his head, "Besides, even Voldemort had half-bloods and muggleborn followers."

There pause as Harry thought about that, remembering something the headmaster of Durmstrang had said. He was hesitant as he spoke, the very idea seeming offensive to him, and yet...

"Karkaroff said that Voldemort tried to recruit my parents."

"Did he now? Aye, that You-Know-Who did try. They were powerful, talented. Your father came from an old pure-blood line, and your mother was brilliant. Of course he wanted them."

"So it was all for show, the pure-blood nonsense?" Harry wasn't sure how to take that idea, it seemed so odd. Moody shook his head.

"No, Voldemort believed it too, though I'd say perhaps less than some of his zealots. Power, though, that's what he wanted. If his ideals had to be sacrificed on the altar of power he'd do it in a heartbeat."

Harry wondered if that made him better or worse. There was a part of him that rather thought that if you were going to have abhorrent views that you use to justify your misdeeds it almost became so much worse if you didn't even live up to them. And then there was… well...

"What's the matter, boy, you look like you ate something sour."

"It's just," Harry said, brow furrowing, "Why do people think I'm going to be some sort of dark wizard, I'm not like that at all at all."

Moody barely waited a moment before replying, shaking his head, "I've been fighting dark wizards most of my life. They're a knut a dozen, hang out in the dark corners of Knockturn Alley, which is all the corners of Knockturn Alley. No, boy, they don't think you're going to be a dark wizard, they think you're going to be a Grindelwald. Some at least. Most think you'll be the next Dumbledore, if they think anything."

Harry spoke without even thinking, Hermione's words in his voice, "Why would anyone want to be the next Grindelwald, he lost."

That actually gave Moody pause, and then he barked out a harsh laugh, and sat heavily back into his seat, "Why indeed, Potter, why indeed."

"Sir, what does this have to do with Karkaroff?"

"He's a follower, Harry. Most people are, even headmasters. Not Dumbledore, no, he was a leader long before he was headmaster, really always has been. Some folks learn to be leaders, others are born to be leaders, but most folks just never bother," the professor replied, adjusting himself in his chair until something seemed to pop in his back, and a long relieved sigh escaped him, "When faced with the choice of lead, follow, or get out of the way, most will choose to get out of the way. When You-Know-Who started making trouble it wasn't some grand army that he had, not like Grindelwald, no… small band of partisans, worked by terror and intimidation. Most folks won't fight, most folks can't fight."

"Why not?" Harry asked, finding that so strange. If danger was real, why were so many unable or unwilling to face it?

"Well, for one, the Ministry doesn't want them to," replied Moody in a matter of fact tone, "Folks know how to fight are dangerous to a lot of things, need the Ministry less, and can even be a threat. Most adult wizards can't properly cast a shielding charm, let alone go on the offensive. And even those that can fight do so at their peril, both from the folks they might fight against and then the ministry itself, that will always remember and isn't exactly keen to let those sorts of folks just live their lives without being under their thumb."

"Professor, you don't seem to care much for the Ministry," Harry ventured, cautiously at first, "Why did you join then?"

"I wasn't born this wise, boy," Moody replied with a snort, "They got me young, like they usually do, fresh out of Hogwarts and with visions of being a legend, like my ancestors were. And I am a legend. But here's the rub; you find me a legend that isn't jaded and I'll be duly impressed."

"Dumbledore doesn't seem jaded," Harry replied almost instantly, and Moody laughed again, though softer this time.

"And I'm duly impressed of Albus Dumbledore, and you should be too."

"He's a leader, and Karkaroff is a follower. So why doesn't Karkaroff follow him?"

"Because Dumbledore is not the sort of person that Karkaroff would follow. Albus would have him, if he wanted, but there are things Karkaroff would have to give up that he simply isn't willing to do. He wants someone to follow that he won't have to give up much in doing so."

"And he thinks I am that sort of person?"

Moody shrugged, "No, but he thinks you could be. He wants to find out. You'll need to learn some things if you're going to take his offer, though."

Now that set Harry back, almost rocking on his heels and confusion growing fast on his face, "Sir? Are you saying I should say yes?"

"Of course!" Moody said, seemingly almost just as shocked, "Turn down a chance to learn about who you may have to fight some day, or their ilk, when they're offering to show you exactly what they'll be doing, what they can do? You'd have to be a fool to say no to that, boy. You just gotta be ready. I had already been thinking about teaching you something, and this just makes me certain you're going to need it, what with the way your life seems to be."

Harry said nothing, torn between the shock he felt and a growing eagerness; teach him something? What could the former auror possibly think Harry needed to know?

"It's a rare skill whose difficulty is the only reason that most people never bother to learn, despite its obvious usefulness. A talented wizard can plunder your mind, truth potions can wrestle the truth out, and more," Moody said, and then brought up a wizened finger to tap his temple, "Your mind is your greatest weapon and most folks have no idea how to protect it."

"You mentioned mind reading before, and said I should learn how to block it," Harry said in dawning realization, Moody just nodded.

"Aye, that I did. Legilimency, a very powerful skill. You-Know-Who was a master, able to plunder minds at his leisure. Most folks can't do that, most can only learn to skim the surface of the mind. The mind is not a book, it's more complicated than that. A weak mind is like a library; you may find it difficult to find what you want but you can find it, if you've got enough time and patience and skill," he said, pausing a moment to let his words sink in before he continued, "To the strong mind, though, to someone who knows how to block it, to an occlumens, ah… then the mind can be any number of things. A fortress, bristling with defenses. To the master, the mind becomes a dungeon, a trap to the invader."

"You're going to teach me to be a… an occlumens?"

Once again Moody nodded, "Aye, I'm going to try. You've got promise, Potter, got a strong will and a natural talent. You're one of the few who has shown signs of throwing off the Imperius curse, which is impressive on its own, and I've heard about your use of the Patronus. Hard spell, that is, post NEWT… but you're an open book, and I don't just mean your mind. You need to learn this for more than just guarding your thoughts against dark wizards."

"I…" Harry said, and then paused. He was going to say he was going to try, but no… that wasn't right. He couldn't just try. Professor Moody was offering to teach him something remarkable, no less remarkable than Professor Lupin had, really, "I'll do it. I won't let you down, sir."

Moody didn't laugh, didn't snort, no… he just stared at Harry for a moment and then nodded, "We'll see, Potter. We'll start immediately."

Hermione strolled through the halls, clutching a stack of books to her chest. This was hardly an abnormal, with the sight of the Slytherin's resident bookworm, with her wild black mane rather put-offish demeanor, walking to or from the library with one stack of books or another was a regular occurrence. Most folks had no reason to bother the girl, or motivation to do so; after all, while everyone knew that it had actually been that fraud Lockhart that had petrified all those students two years ago, they still remembered when that Granger girl had summoned up a snake and then got in a hissing match with Harry that led to the thing going after a poor Hufflepuff.

To say that some were still rather apprehensive about Hermione Granger was being mild.

Of course, this apprehension apparently didn't stop some folks from glaring at her, or making passes at boyfriend. It was rather stupid of them, really, to operate with such terrible information. That Rita Skeeter may have written the foolishness but they were the ones that believed it. It was also somewhat silly too that so many seemed to think she was dark and brooding, and thus scary, but Harry could be the same and seen as a catch.

Well, he was a catch, but still!

She suppressed the urge to turn and glare at a group of girls that were chattering about right up till she got close enough, and then got deathly silent and rather pointedly avoided her eyes. She could see them glancing, though, and the odd looks in their eyes. It wasn't really fear though, or apprehension, it was envy. Which made Hermione just a bit more annoyed, and just a bit more, if she was being honest, jealous. Which was silly, she knew better, she had nothing to be jealous about. No one was going to come between her and Harry, no one could!

But...

After the Hogsmeade trip, Hermione was more sure than ever about what she had to do. She had worried somewhat that Harry might not approve, but now she knew that deep down he would, if he'd known. Of course, he wouldn't know, because that would just be yet more stress on her Harry and he did not need that in the least, not at all.

And frankly, darn it, neither did she! It was annoying to watch their fawning and preening for Harry, it was insufferable to see him get so stressed and annoyed. They needed to be dealt with, and that meant they needed a diversion. Thankfully, there were several options, short and long term. It was going to take some work, but it would be worth it.

It was also a good thing Hagrid had been so excited to show them what the first task was going to be. They'd run into him at Hogsmeade and he'd pulled them both to the side. It was supposed to be a secret, of course, but seeing as neither of them were in the tournament he saw no harm in showing off a bit. And what a thing to show; Hermione was only more certain you'd have to be mad to be in the damned tournament.

Dragons. The first task was dragons. It was strange to see them, all the reading in the world doing little to truly communicate just how terrible and ferocious they could be, which admittedly did make part of her plan somewhat ironic but she had to work with what she had. It had also reminded her not a little of smuggling out the little lindworm. So much had happened that year, and since, that the little snake-with-arms had almost been forgotten. There were no rumors at least, no sightings, but then again the Forbidden Forest was forbidden, and it was one rule that most folks bothered to listen to.

Seeing them had also given her an idea, though, hence several of the books in the stack and why she was walking around the halls while Harry was off talking with Professor Moody.

It only took a little while for her to find who she was looking for, thankfully. Cedric, surrounded by several other students of various years, mostly Hufflepuffs but not entirely. He was popular and well liked, and his status as champion had only made this more so. They were talking about something or other, but it fell away as they noticed her approach. Cedric was the first to see, and the others followed his own gaze to her. The expressions they had were mixed, from curiosity to contempt. She spotted Neville among them and nodded to him, and rather intentionally ignored Cho, who was glaring at her with barely disguised malice.

"Diggory, can I have a word with you," she said after coming to a stop in front of them, perhaps a bit to formally, "In private, I mean."

Cedric seemed shocked, and glanced from the Slytherin girl to some of his friends. His eyes lingered on Neville for a moment before he turned back to her and shrugged, "Sure, I guess."

Hermione nodded and turned, heading off towards an alcove. Cedric began to follow, turning back to speak to the group who simply remained standing, still a mix of confusion and shock.

"Hey, go on ahead, I'll catch up," Cedric said, flashing that rather impressive looking smile. Hermione could admit that Cedric was handsome, and clearly took very good care of himself. He had a sort of boyish charm despite being older, and she could certainly understand why he was popular. It was a shame, really, that he was leaving after the year as he'd have been useful to keep around for a bit longer. Thankfully, she still had Neville, though. That was getting ahead of things, though…

"You know I'm surprised," Cedric quipped as they reached a place somewhat removed from the flow of traffic in the halls. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Why is that?"

"Well, a lot of people have been wishing me luck and all, lot of girls and all, but you didn't exactly seem the type, because… you know…"

Hermione just stared at the Hufflepuff, surprised at how flustered Cedric seemed to be. It seemed rather natural too, and Hermione wondered if he was just naturally disarming or if he'd practiced.

"Because?"

"Well, you've got Potter, right? Rather infamous, you two are," he said finally, seeming thoughtful in the moment. Hermione's eyes began to widen as she realized what he was getting at, "I mean, I get it though, I'm flattered, really, but I'm a bit old for you I think…"

"What, no… I…" she sputtered out. Cedric looked bashful and ran a hand through his wavy brown hair, flashing that smile that would be disarming in most other situations.

"But hey! Have you talked much with my friend Neville?" he began, and was about to speak more when Hermione shook herself and thrust the stack of books into his arms. Shocked, he glanced down at the titles, confusion apparent on his face. Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland, the Draconomicon, the Bestiarium Magicum (with a helpful bookmark sticking from its side,) and a few others. Looking back up, Hermione could see he hadn't the foggiest idea what was going on, and found some amusement in the boy's befuddlement.

"You'll thank me later," she said simply, smiling, "After the First Task."

The boy's face was still twisted up in confusion as Hermione spun and began to walk away, wide smile on her face, heading back to wait for Harry. Movement caught her eye and Hermione saw Cho had apparently not gone along with the rest. The Ravenclaw girl locked eyes with her, and Hermione simply smiled back while Cho's face turned into a mixture of scorn and bewilderment. Cho glanced back as Cedric came from the alcove, already flipping through one of the books.

Hermione just moved on by, pleased that things had gone rather well. With any luck there would soon be several other targets for the silly girls of Hogwarts to focus on, instead of her Harry.