Suspected

Chapter Fourteen: The Heart of a Death Eater

Despite the anticipation of the upcoming arrival of their foreign guests, the teachers loaded up the students with homework and assignments as they did during the first semester of the school year, Triwizard Tournament be damned. Rita spent the better part of her days mapping the corridors for anything that would make the guests uncomfortable during their stay at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, all the while assisting the other professors as they saw fit—notably, it was to give the students a direct presentation of how to act in front of the guests. No nasty pranks, look and show the very best that we have at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Wizard-kind couldn't help but to show off when the lot of them got together as one; there was always a dire need to upstage the other.

The students whom had received detention for general misconduct, Rita had left them to clean the trophies awarded to the school for the high achievements from the past. Rita helped Madame Hooch trim the Quidditch Pitch, an elaborate use of charm magic, to make it shine brighter than it ever had for a House vs. House Quidditch match. Rita receded to the kitchens where she met the hard-working House Elves—and she gave them a rendition of what Durmstrang and Beauxbatons would be expecting to find on the House Tables when they arrived. Rita caught a quick glance of an Elf wearing mismatched clothes—Dobby—and she purposely didn't say a single word to him. Malfoy's former House Elf, whom apparently had personally requested from Dumbledore a change of clothes every day and was expecting an hourly rate—Rita didn't know how to respond to the sort of odd behavior from a House Elf such as he: Even Kreacher had the right idea of swearing loyalty to his own Wizarding Family. Though, the idea of Dobby's absence having a particular effect on Lucius owed Rita a small smile in his direction, though he didn't return it.

While the Triwizard Tournament slowly approached, Mad-Eye Moody didn't let off on the "practical approach" (More like lethal approach, Rita thought as she entered the classroom once more and took her seat beside the teacher's desk) toward teaching; in fact, he seemed ardent to show the students just how mad it could be if the world was thrown into an outright Wizarding War. So far, as a fourth-year class, they had covered jinxes, hexes, and curses as one lesson; at point, Mad-Eye Moody had implied (though he had suggested it, but for argument's sake, he had implied) that he'd like to have the students stand about-face and throw as many curses at their opponent to see if they had really paid attention to the footnotes. Rita had strongly objected.

"This is not a dueling club," Rita had chastised him, "This is a classroom."

When the fourth-year students entered the classroom, with the Golden Trio holding up the rear of the line, Mad-Eye Moody motioned for them to remain standing. Nervous glances, curious brow raises, and small murmurs spread around the classroom as Moody hobbled on his walking stick toward Rita. She idly rubbed the mild sting of the Dark Mark through her left sleeve, like an aggravating insect bite that wouldn't subside.

"I've decided," said Moody, "that in order to really drive home the real aspect of a duel into your thick skulls is to show you one instead."

Rita instantly looked up at him. He withdrew his wand calmly. There was a rouse of interest; though, Rita caught the anxious side glance of one Hermione Granger, whom had disapproved so far of Moody's demonstration of the three Unforgiveable Curses during their very first lesson. Moody's swiveling eye didn't wander as it usually did. Instead, it stayed fixated on Rita's unblinking gaze, paired with a frown. Rita had thought that this had been squashed last week; but this teacher was especially more persistent.

Although there was some anxiety heavy in the classroom, there was a note of excitement. Clearly, the students had become accustomed to the hands-on activities during Moody's lessons. A straight-on duel would raise the bar. She frowned as Moody gestured behind him at the excitement over his shoulder, noiselessly pointing out "nearly" the only person who had any objections was Rita.

"I challenge you to a Wizard's duel." Moody said boldly.

Another rush of murmurs. Rita rose to her feet, eye-level with her boss, and she frowned at him.

"This is how you want to show them how the world really works, hm? There is no threat at Hogwarts," she said frankly. "There is no danger. There is no war."

"If you're afraid to take me on, just say that, Rita—"

"I'm not afraid of you," she said coldly.

The tension that had been there since they had first spoken rose to the surface, and everyone in the room could feel it. Out of her peripheral vision, Hermione made a nervous glance toward Harry and Ron. However, to the side, she saw Draco Malfoy smirk approvingly—though perhaps he was hoping that she would "accidentally" maim Moody to the point where he could no longer teach at Hogwarts.

"It's very important to know how to duel, though, isn't it," Moody continued as if there had been no objections. "You may not be wand-waving of every minute of your waking hour—"

"—You might be—" Rita jived.

"—But," Moody continued over her, "It's important to show just what a duel looks like."

"They know what it looks like," said Rita. "More than half the students in Hogwarts this year were there when Professor Snape and Gilderoy Lockhart set up the Dueling Club at Dumbledore's request—"

"Two professors with questionable morals," said Moody frankly.

Although Rita thought that she heard a few chuckles from the classroom, she pretended that she didn't. Professionalism, she thought. Very important. She'd have liked to come to her husband's defense, as so far between Snape and she, he seemed to be more redeemable as a Dark Wizard than she. And Lockhart—Well, Moody's actually right about that one.

"The Dueling Club in its first year was a way to show the students how to defend themselves. However, it was abruptly ended, was it not? Hard to defend yourself against a large serpent with a penetrating gaze, isn't it?" Moody added softly where only Rita could hear. "I believe in the practical approach, Rita. We've covered the Unforgiveable Curses; we've covered jinxes, hexes, and curses. It only fits the curriculum that two Wizards of incredible standing—Incredible doesn't always mean good, by the way—" he fit that in smoothly before turning to the students— "should participate in a Wizard's duel."

Rita couldn't object to his reasoning. She withdrew her wand from her robes without another word and strode down the aisle of the classroom. Mad-Eye Moody admitted an approving smirk, if not just that even as Dark as she was, she couldn't deny that dueling was a necessary learning tool for Witch and Wizards around the world—it was, after all, like a sporting competition. Though, it was more elaborate and elegant than the sort of Muggle fighting that perhaps Hermione and Harry Potter were accustomed to. "Fencing" with Muggle weapons…How barbaric.

"Fine," Rita said finally, "But there are rules to follow."

"I imagine you will be the one to outline them to me," said Moody grumpily.

"The students are not to be harmed," said Rita.

"That should be an obvious one—"

"It should," Rita sniped, inclining her head toward Draco beside her. "But I thought I should say it for the record."

"No harmful incantations," said Moody. "Also should be said for the record."

"I agree," said Rita.

"Look at that," Moody said, stepping in front of the desk to take his position, "We can agree on something."

It felt more like a harsh negotiation of terms made by two squabbling parents in front of their children rather than two adults attempting to create a healthy curriculum. Rita felt a chink in her neck as Moody continued to make idled comments toward her, and there was an urge to curse him across the classroom. Her wand betrayed her, and a small spark of red light emitted from the tip.

Draco took a few steps backward, quietly taking both Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle by the edge of their robes to follow him to the closest wall, shielded by the row of desks in front of them. Several students followed his lead.

"Third rule?" asked Moody.

"No contact," said Rita.

"That seems formidable enough. Don't think you could take me on in a Muggle fight, though—"

Impulsively, Rita raised her wand and sent a beam of blue light toward him—it shot across the classroom like a gust of wind, taking along with it the scrolls of parchment, quills, and a few books as the mass of stationary supplies sped toward Moody; he deflected it with a look of disapproval on his face. Rita pointed her wand at him,

"You're intentionally provoking me," she said. "Are you teaching me or teaching the class, Alastor?"

"A Wizard's duel is begun by a count of three and with a respectful bow," he said.

"There's no respect to be given," said Rita pointedly.

"Stop acting like a child."

Rita shook her head. "I'm sorry, class, but I think I must do what I should have done a very long time ago," she added, glancing surreptitiously toward Neville Longbottom, "and walk away."

Mad-Eye Moody shrugged his shoulders, "Forfeiting, are you?"

Rita made to turn on her heel for the door, an attempt to restrain herself and to abide by Bellatrix's warning about watching herself around Mad-Eye Moody; but the stubborn ex-Auror was vexing her. It didn't seem like Mad-Eye, though. He didn't seem so intent on provoking her into a duel when they were seated across from each other at the Muggle tavern. He was definitely different; something was not right.

"Are you afraid that your worst self will come out if you face me?" asked Moody.

Ah, he was trying to show the class that she was as Dark as ever. A true Auror at heart.

Rita's mouth pursed. She pocketed her wand, and considering the mass of students staring at their adolescent discussion, Rita stormed quietly across the classroom, setting her face within inches of Mad-Eye Moody's, close enough that his electric blue swiveling and steadied on her with its own penetrating gaze.

"I'm not going to take your bait, Professor," hissed Rita. "I am not afraid of you. I'm not your guinea pig and this is not an interrogation room, and I'm not your suspect—"

"If you've truly reformed, you'd do as I ask, and duel me; any righteous defected Death Eater wouldn't resort to Dark Magic or surprise attacks, Rita. I know the moment the opportunity arises, you'd curse me within a second," growled Moody.

"You will not bait me," said Rita angrily, and her voice rose louder in volume. "Whether or not you trust me, and you're sat in your ways but that doesn't mean I'm set in mine—"

"You've got the proof on your hands and a temper to boot to prove that you are not defected," Moody replied. "If I had my way, you'd serve the same sentence in Azkaban—"

"Well, it's not going your way, is it?" Rita snapped. "But I'm not going to spend the rest of the year with a target on my back because of what I did or didn't do. I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking when he decided to bring you to Hogwarts to teach the Defense Against the Dark Arts when the only thing you've concentrated on this year so far is just Dark Magic—"

"The defense against the Dark Arts is most important—"

"Not just magic," Rita snapped. "Dark Creatures, Dark Artifacts." The classroom could hear her. "But the very first lesson you show fourth year students is an Imperius Curse that you used on the students, a Cruciatus Curse on a fucking spider to show them, what, a book couldn't tell them?! And then the worst one, Alastor!" She was red in the face. "A Killing Curse, demonstrated, on Hogwarts Grounds, in front of Harry—"

She stopped herself. Moody smirked at her.

"And if the duel wasn't part of the lesson, what would you have done? Would you torture the students to let them feel what the Cruciatus Curse feels like, Professor? Was that the next step?"

"I bet it would feel differently to you, wouldn't it, Rita?" Moody said knowingly.

Rita stared at him.

Moody leaned forward, and his voice wasn't as quiet as she hoped it would be for what followed— "I don't know what Dumbledore did or how he managed to persuade a confederation of Wizards to keep you out of Azkaban for the crimes that you've done, but I assure you that I will find a way to put you there myself. I know that you've practiced Dark Magic; I know you've seen that evil witch, Bellatrix Lestrange, every year since she's been incarcerated—"

"You're paranoid," Rita breathed, to subside his accusations in front of the Golden Trio, Longbottom—

"Am I?" Moody hissed at her. "Here's the deal, Mrs. Snape…" he said it as if it were poison. "If you don't want me to air out your dirty laundry in front of your favorite students, I strongly suggest that you resign from your post as a teacher's aid. As you so easily put it at the beginning of this year, I don't quite frankly need you here. Nor do I want you haunting my classroom."

Rita stared at him. He wasn't bluffing.

She gave a small snort of laughter, and shrugged her shoulders. "You want me out? Fine."

It would be easier, after all, to answer the Dark Lord's summons once he came to power if she weren't obligated to Hogwarts to begin with; and the distance from her students would make the heart less fond. Rita didn't say anything to the classroom as she turned on her heel and headed straight for the door, ignoring the outstretched hand of Hermione Granger in her peripheral vision—

It just easier this way. She is a Muggleborn after all… Rita thought somberly.