With quidditch cancelled for the year, Harry and Draco found themselves with a remarkable amount of free time on their hands. Only three days into the term and they were terrifically bored. Harry suggested that they go down to the lake with Harry's book of curses from last Christmas, and Draco jumped at the chance.

The two boys got some old quaffles and broomsticks from the quidditch shed and used them to make a vaguely human-shaped dummy near the lake. They were far enough away from the school that there were no other students around. Harry and Draco warmed up with easy spells; expelliarmus, cutting curse and the like.

"So, how are things between you and Pansy?" Draco asked as he fired a disarming charm at the dummy.

"We're fine," Harry said. "I apologized and we made up in public. Didn't you hear us when we came into the common room the other night?"

"Oh, I heard," Draco said cryptically. "So, everything is forgiven?"

"I guess so," Harry said. "Why? Is there something I'm missing?"

Draco fired a cutting curse at the dummy, and gouged a large piece of wood out of a broomstick. "Pansy doesn't forgive anybody for anything," Draco said. "Ever."

"That's an exaggeration if I've ever heard one," Harry said. "Move over, I want to cast a few." Draco moved aside, and Harry started casting disarming charms.

"If it's an exaggeration, it isn't much of one," Draco said. "Name one time that Pansy has forgiven somebody for something."

Harry opened his mouth, expecting an answer to come easily to mind. None was forthcoming. Harry closed his mouth and thought harder. Still, nothing.

"Huh," Harry said. "I'm sure it's happened some time."

"Pansy doesn't believe in forgiveness," Draco said. "She believes in revenge."

"Walking into the common room while holding my arm can hardly be classified as revenge," said Harry. He fired a cutting curse, and criss-crossed the mark that Draco had left on the broomstick.

"So Pansy didn't want to start a feud, that's not a surprise. You're about as popular as a Slytherin can get. You won the quidditch cup last year, you're a parselmouth, you solved the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets, your last name is Potter… Pansy would be a fool to start a fight with you right now."

Harry paused and turned away from the dummy. "So the only reason she forgave me is because it was the socially expedient thing to do?"

"Yes."

"I don't believe you," Harry said. "I think Pansy is a better person than that."

"Harry, let me tell you something," Draco said. "You're wrong. You and Pansy might not be fighting, but you're making a big mistake if you think that you've been forgiven."

Harry was becoming irritated. "Are we going to talk about Pansy all day, or are we going to cast some curses?"

"Curses it is," Draco said. He picked up the book and began to leaf through the pages. "Some of these are so boring. Leg locker? Body freezing curse? I've been casting those since second year." This was true; at one point, Draco had leg-locked Neville Longbottom just outside the greenhouses after Herbology. Longbottom's cries for help had gone unheard, and he had been forced to hop back to Gryffindor tower. "Where's the good stuff?"

"Look closer to the back," Harry suggested. "Things get more interesting." Harry hadn't found much time to read over the summer, but he knew that much.

While Draco rapidly flipped forward in the book of curses, Harry began practicing incendio on the manikin. Harry had become quite skilled with the flamethrower curse last year; he could use it to create flames small enough to light a candle, fireballs of various sizes, and even jets of pure flame. Harry followed each incendio with a quick aguamenti to extinguish the flames, as they had only brought one dummy down to the lake.

"Got one," Draco said. "Bludgeoning curse. Sounds perfect."

Harry agreed with Draco's assessment; a bludgeoning curse sounded useful. Learning new spells was always a balancing act. A curse like incendio was impressive, but unusable against one's fellow students. A leg locker curse was useful for pranks, but the effect was perfectly boring. A bludgeoning hex, however, would be useful if one was accosted by a group of older Gryffindors; handy in a duel, but it wouldn't damage the target any more than a bludger would in quidditch.

Draco stood and pointed his wand at the dummy. "Rhopalicus!" A blue light flew from Draco's wand. There was a loud "whumph" as the curse struck the dummy's side, leaving a spherical depression in the old quaffle.

"Cool," Draco said. He repeated the curse several more times, blasting different parts of the dummy. Harry, meanwhile, flipped through the back of the book, looking for some of the curses that he had noticed earlier in the summer; the lightning bolt curse seemed particularly impressive.

When Draco bored of the bludgeoning curse, Harry gave the lightning bolt curse a try. Harry was able to muster a few flashes of light, but nothing that could reasonably be called lightning.

"At least you made your hair stand on end," said Draco.

Harry ran a hand through his hair and discovered that it was rather unruly. This had nothing to do with the curse; it was simply Harry's hair. Draco was taking the mickey.

"If you're so good, why don't you do it?" Harry said.

Draco shook his head. "I know when a curse is too much for me to cast properly. Budge over, I have another one I want to try." Harry moved aside, and Draco aimed his wand at the dummy. "Adflicto affligio!"

With a sharp crack, the broomstick forming the dummy's body snapped in half. The dummy toppled sideways.

"Awesome," said Harry. "What was that?"

"Bone-breaking curse." Draco walked over to the dummy and cast a quick reparo, restoring the dummy to its former state.

Harry had wanted to try a few other curses and hexes, but they wouldn't be effective on the dummy. The conjunctivitis curse, for example, seemed like it would be dead useful—if your enemy couldn't see, then they couldn't attack. But nothing on the dummy would indicate whether Harry's conjunctivitis curse had succeeded or failed. He had to stick with curses that had visual effects.

"My turn," Harry said. Draco stepped aside. "Glacius."

Harry's wand emitted a cool, white-blue light. When the spell struck the dummy, a coating of frost appeared, quickly spreading across the dummy's chest, arms and head.

"Freezing curse?" Draco asked.

"If I can only make light with a lightning curse, I can at least make frost with a freezing curse." Harry smiled wickedly. "And the next time Finnegan is about to blow his top, I'll have something to cool him off."

Harry paused. He could hear the distant chiming of a clock, coming from far across the Hogwarts grounds.

"Dinner," Draco said. "Let's pack this up and eat."

Draco went take down the dummy while Harry put the book of curses into his school bag. As he closed his bag, Harry saw a flicker of motion on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He looked up immediately and caught a glimpse of…

…Professor Moody? What was he doing in the Forbidden Forest? And why was he spying on Harry and Draco?

"Harry! Let's go! Crabbe and Goyle will eat everything if we don't hurry."

Harry looked back at Draco, then back at the forest. Moody, if he had ever been there, was gone. The forest was perfectly still, and there was no indication that what Harry had seen had been anything other than an illusion.

"Fine," Harry said, turning back to Draco. "But I don't think even Crabbe and Goyle could eat everything."

"You underestimate Crabbe," Draco said. "You always do."

Harry laughed, and the two friends began to walk back to the castle. If Moody really had been in the forest, he was probably there on his own business. Thinking that Moody would be so concerned with Harry was just paranoid.

*!*!*!*

At the end of first week, Harry had his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Harry, as always, had been looking forward to Defense. Last year, Defense had become his best class, exceeding his strong work in both Potions and Charms. Harry figured it was probably because of his extra work with Lupin last year.

The entire school was abuzz with talk of Moody's class. There was a rumor that Moody had used unforgiveable curses in his class with the Gryffindors on Thursday, but Harry was certain that it was just gossip. Far more likely was the rumor that Moody had challenged the fifth year students to a duel in class. Regardless of the specific truth of the rumors, one thing was certain: class with Moody would be exciting.

Draco was not quite as enthusiastic. "Moody got the nickname 'Mad-Eye' for more than his injury," Draco had told Harry. "Moody's bonkers. Used to be an auror, but now he spends his time jumping at shadows. He thinks he sees dark wizards everywhere, but he hasn't made a big arrest in years. Forced into retirement, you know."

As much as Harry liked Draco, Harry had learned to take his friend's opinions with a grain of salt. Draco could be rather closed-minded. Harry would reserve judgment on Moody for himself.

When Harry arrived for Defense, Draco was already sitting in the back of the room next to Pansy. The two were whispering to one another and sniggering. The last of the three seats at the table was empty, and Harry quickly sat down next to Draco.

As soon as he was seated, Harry glanced around the room, looking for Moody. The professor was not to be seen. At the front of the room, however, Tracey was sitting next to a pair of empty chairs. Harry wondered where Daphne was, and saw that she was sitting between Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode.

Tracey turned around, looking toward the back of the classroom. When she saw Harry seated next to Draco and Pansy, her face fell. Harry gave her a wan smile. Tracey raised her hand slightly and wiggled her fingers in the smallest of waves.

Other than Harry, Tracey's only real friend was Daphne; without Daphne, it looked as if Tracey would be sitting alone. And if Moody turned out to be the type of professor who assigned seats on the first day, Tracey would be alone for the entire term. It would be disastrous for Tracey's already tenuous social standing.

Harry could move up to the front, with Tracey, but seats at the back of the room were coveted for a reason: it was easier to slack off, and you were far less likely to be called upon unexpectedly. Plus, if Harry got up and moved, Draco and Pansy might take it as a slight against them.

Before Harry could make a decision, Theo Nott rushed into the classroom. Nott was a rabbity looking boy, and the resemblance became even more dramatic when he was in a hurry. Nott appeared to have gone through a growth spurt over the summer. He was no longer the lanky boy that Harry had met during first year; his arms and chest had become bulkier over the summer.

Nott sat down next to Tracey without any hesitation. Harry found this odd; Tracey and Nott were notorious for bickering with one another.

The reason for Nott's rush became apparent when the door at the back of the classroom burst open. The class fell silent as Moody stormed to the front of the room, glowering at the students as he passed. At the speed he was moving, his limp was dramatically pronounced. His magically eye whirled in its socket, scanning the room incessantly.

"Books away," Moody snapped. "You won't need them today." As the students tucked their books away, Moody began to pace at the front of the room, false leg clunking arrhythmicly against the floor. "Your first three years of Defense class were a fiasco. First year was minor jinxes and hexes. Third year was a comprehensive look at dark and magical creatures. Second year, if you had any sense, you learned the difference between a fraudulent buffoon and an actual educator."

Harry smiled—Moody had the right of it. And Harry already loved Moody's no-nonsense style of communication. He reminded Harry of an army drill sergeant. If the whole class was like this, Harry would learn loads. Harry appeared to be in the minority, however. Draco was leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. Pansy was staring up at the ceiling, twirling her hair around her finger. In fact, most of the class seemed to be tuning Moody out.

"What are you missing?" Moody asked. "What is the egregious gap in your Defense education?" Moody looked around the room, then jabbed a finger at Millicent. "You! What's the biggest problem in your Defense education?"

"Er…" Bulstrode's eyes were huge. She looked like a frightened animal.

"CURSES! And I'm not talking about bad words that earn you a spanking from your mother! I mean real curses, the spells that dark wizards don't hesitate to use. When you're facing a dark wizard, do you think he'll use a jelly-legs jinx on you? A tickling charm?"

Bulstrode shook her head.

"You're darned right he won't! A dark wizard will curse you, and he will do it without hesitation or remorse! My job is to teach you to survive with most your limbs." Moody faced the class. "Look to your left! Look to your right!"

Harry knew how this worked. Some percentage of wizards would do something, and Moody was trying to shock them with the statistic. On Harry's right, Draco was doodling on a piece of parchment. Harry looked to his left, across the aisle, and saw Goyle picking his nose.

Moody continued. "Fifty percent of wizards will die at the hands of a dark wizard! You just looked at two people. One of them will die because of a dark wizard."

"That can't be true!" Draco blurted.

"Correct! But the reason it isn't is because of people like me!" Moody snapped. "What's your name, boy?"

"Draco Malfoy."

Moody smiled. Somehow, his face got uglier. "Your father and I go way back, Malfoy. Having you in my class will be a pleasure. And I assure you, the pleasure will be all mine."

Draco rolled his eyes. Moody raised his voice and again addressed the class.

"Dumbledore brought me out of retirement to give you a crash-course in advanced curses. Usually you wouldn't learn this until sixth year, but Dumbledore thinks it's necessary now. I agree. By the end of the year, I'll have the whole lot of you whipped into shape." Moody paused. "What curses do you know already?"

There was silence. Nobody wanted to draw Moody's attention.

"Come on, now. This isn't a room full of Gryffindors. I'd bet that you lot know more curses than the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff fourth-years combined." Moody looked out over the class expectantly, but nobody made a move. His eyes settled briefly on Harry, just long enough for Harry to grow uncomfortable under his gaze.

"You!" Moody was pointing at Theo Nott. "You're walking down the street. You see another wizard approaching. What do you do?"

"Er… I keep walking."

"The wizard casts a bludgeoning curse at your head. Your skull cracks open and your brains leak out onto the sidewalk. What could you have done to prevent this?"

"Dodged?" Nott seemed extremely confused.

"Wrong." Moody looked at the back of the room and made eye contact with Harry. "Your turn, Potter. You are walking down the street and you see another wizard approaching. What do you do?"

"I freeze him with a full-body bind."

"Great. You've just assaulted the Minister of Magic. Aurors arrest you and you spend the next five to twenty years in Azkaban." Moody turned to Daphne Greengrass. "Your turn. You're walking down the street and you see another wizard approaching. What do you do?"

"I try to figure out if it's a dark wizard," Daphne says.

"Better," says Moody. "How do you do that?"

"Well…"

"Too late. You hesitate and the wizard cuts off your head. He leaves the pieces of your body in the gutter. Rats eat your eyes."

Daphne's face went white.

"What are you doing wrong?" Moody waited for several seconds, but the class was silent. Finally, muttering to himself, Moody clomped up to his desk at the front of the classroom. He began inspecting a calendar, then looked at the classroom's clock. "First Friday of the term, one twenty-five p.m. Eleven students wearing green and silver. You are Slytherin fourth years, correct? You're supposed to be clever! Figure it out! Why are all your classmates either dead or in prison?"

The class remained silent. Moody made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat, then pointed at Nott.

"You aren't dead because you were hit with a curse. You're dead because you were unprepared. You're dead because you assumed that nothing would happen." Moody turned and pointed at Harry. "You, Potter, are in Azkaban because you got overeager. You attacked first. This class is about DEFENSE." Moody turned to Daphne. "You did the best, but you're still dead. You spent too much time analyzing, and not enough time watching. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Moody slammed his hands down on his desk. The class jumped at the roar of his voice, even Draco.

"Constant vigilance is the only thing that will protect you," Moody said. Moody looked around the class, then settled his eyes on Harry. "Here's a chance to redeem yourself, Potter. What does a dark wizard look like?"

Harry was still upset by Moody's first unfair hypothetical. Being singled out again only upset him further; Harry answered flippantly. "Black robes over black clothes. White masks, shaped like skulls. Tall, black hats to conceal their hair. Tattoos on their arms, probably a skull with a snake for a tongue."

"Heh. A perfect description of a Death Eater at a World Cup riot. Or maybe a Death Eater kneeling in front of his master. But what does a dark wizard look like on Tuesday afternoon at 12:30, when he's on his lunch break? What does a dark wizard look like when he's at the park, playing with his children?"

"He looks like every other wizard!" Harry said, completely losing his patience.

"You're darn right he does!" Moody put his arms up in the air. "One of you gets it, at least! Dark wizards don't go around wearing their Death Eater uniforms! They don't warn you before they attack! The only thing that will protect you is CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Moody's voice roared again, but only Goyle jumped with surprise. The rest of the class was already anticipating Moody's use of the catchphrase.

"So, how can you identify a dark wizard? Or, to put it another way, what makes dark wizards different from every other wizard?"

Again, there was no response. Moody had thoroughly beaten the class into submission. Or silent defiance. The result was the same: nobody was going to stick their neck out and answer.

"Potter, what do you think? Is the answer too obvious?"

Harry rolled his eyes. His initial enthusiasm at Moody's teaching style had completely fled. "Dark wizards use dark magic."

"Absolutely correct. This next question is more difficult, and don't you dare give me any circular logic for an answer. Question: what is dark magic? What puts the darkness in dark magic?" Moody paused. "Potter, if you answer this correctly, you're excused from class for the remainder of the week."

Harry opened his mouth, but wasn't sure of the answer. He had never really thought about it. He just knew that dark magic was… well… dark.

Harry shrugged. "Too late. I hesitate. A dark wizard uses a curse to turn me inside out. I bleed to death on the floor, staining your classroom's carpet forever."

Moody smiled, this time with genuine amusement. "Five points to Slytherin. Give it a try, though."

"Dark magic is evil?"

Moody shook his head. "First part of today's lesson: characteristics of dark magic. Quills out. Prepare to take notes." Moody waved his wand and piece of chalk rose off the ledge of the blackboard. The chalk wrote the words "Dark Magic" in large, block letters at the top of the board.

"The characteristics of dark magic are reasonably well known. One: dark magic feels good." As Moody spoke, the chalk scratched at the blackboard. The class began copying the notes. "Two: dark magic is addictive. These elements combined mean that, three: use of dark magic leads to further use of dark magic. Four: dark magic is fueled, not by logic, but by emotions, especially negative emotions like rage, fear, hate and disgust. Five: use of dark magic inhibits your ability to make moral decisions. And six: use of dark magic destroys your soul."

Moody paused and looked at the class. The room was silent except for the sounds of quills scratching on parchment.

"Got all that down?" Moody asked. There was no response. "Good. The next thing you need to know is that everything on the board is FALSE. These are all MYTHS!" The floating chalk moved to the top of the blackboard and wrote the word 'MYTHS' under the words 'Dark Magic.'

"None of that is true," Moody said. "Codswallop like this is perpetuated by fearful and superstitious wizards who need to lie to themselves in order to sleep at night. In reality, dark magic is nothing special. Casting a dark spell will feel no different from casting any normal charm." Moody looked around the room. "Greengrass! How do you know that the wizard who cut off your head is a dark wizard?"

"Because he cut off my head."

"Correct! What spell did he use?"

"I don't know. Diffindo, maybe?"

"Good choice! Diffindo is the cutting charm, or cutting curse." Moody paused. "How many of you were taught diffindo, either at school or at home?"

Everybody raised their hand. Moody drew back, feigning shock.

"Oh, no! Why have your parents taught you such dark magic?"

"It's not dark, though," Tracey said. "My mom uses it all the time for sewing. She used it when we made crafts when I was a child."

Moody smiled slightly. "But Daphne was killed by a dark wizard who used diffindo. It's dark magic!"

"It's not," Tracey said.

"I assure you, Davis, it is. Does anybody know why?"

Daphne, whose head had been bowed in thought, looked up suddenly. "It's because the wizard used it to kill me."

"EXACTLY!" Moody slammed his fist down on his desk. "Dark magic isn't inherently dark. Magic is light or dark based upon how it is used. Diffindo can cut cloth, or it can cut off your head. Incendio can light a campfire, or it can burn you alive. It isn't about the spell, kiddies. It's how you use it." Moody clasped his hands behind his back. "Despite the name of this class, the 'dark arts' do not exist. Spells are no more light or dark than what a wizard does with them."

Draco's hand shot up. "What about the Unforgivables, then?"

"Malfoy. You would be the one who asked about that," Moody said, sneering. "Let's talk about Unforgiveables. Imperio, Crucio, and Avada Kedavra. Use of any of these curses upon another person is a one-way ticket to a life sentence in Azkaban.

"The Imperius Curse will allow you to completely overcome the will of another person and replace it with your own. Mind control. The Cruciatus Curse creates the sensation of unbearable pain within the victim's mind, but inflicts no actual physical harm upon the body. Avada Kedavra is commonly known as the killing curse. It's a powerful piece of magic. It cannot be blocked by a shield. There is no known countercurse. If you are struck with a killing curse, you are dead… unless you are Harry Potter."

Moody glanced around the room. "Why is the punishment for these curses so severe? If anybody says, 'because they're dark magic,' I will dock you ten house points."

After a long silence, Daphne raised her hand. "Is it because there's no good use for them?"

"YES! If a spell is considered dark or light based upon its use, then a spell with no good use is inherently dark." Moody scowled at the rest of the class. "Apparently, Greengrass here is the only one in the room with any sort of moral compass. Not surprising, really, but I expected the rest of you would be better at faking it."

Next to Harry, Draco was shaking his head and frowning.

"This is so stupid," Draco whispered under his breath.

"Don't like what you're hearing, Malfoy?" Moody said. "Your daddy is mighty familiar with some of these curses, from what I've heard."

Draco's frown deepened, but he didn't rise to Moody's bait.

"Maybe you think that these curses shouldn't be unforgiveable? Or maybe you think that dark magic isn't really all that dark?" Moody smiled cruelly. "Come on, boy. Don't you have anything to say?"

"There are uses for the Unforgiveables," Draco said, unable to maintain his silence any longer.

"Like what?" asked Moody. "Let's hear it, Malfoy. Give me a good reason to use an Unforgivable Curse on another human being."

Draco folded his arms and looked down at his desk.

"You're about to lose house points for ignoring a teacher, boy. I'd better hear some sort of answer, and I'd better hear it fast."

Draco remained silent.

"Five points from Slytherin. You've just undone all of Potter's good work from earlier. Does anybody else care to try? Anybody? Or am I supposed to believe that, in a room full of Slytherins, not a single person has gotten a head start on dark magic?"

Harry was sick of this. Moody clearly had some sort of vendetta against Slytherins in general, and Draco in particular. Harry wasn't going to let him relentlessly badger Draco without any sort of defiance.

"I'll give you an example," Harry said.

Moody slowly raised an eyebrow. "If there's one voice I didn't expect to hear, it was yours, Potter."

Harry ignored Moody's taunt. "Let's say somebody puts a bomb on the Knight Bus. You catch the bomber, but he won't tell you how to stop it. He knows that you can't actually kill him, because then you'd never know how to stop the bomb. But you need the answer before the bus blows up. Crucio. After a few minutes, he tells you how to save a bus full of people."

"And if you have the wrong person?"

"If there's any question, then you don't use the curse. But it's my hypothetical. We've got the right guy." Harry felt confident.

"Why not use diffindo? Cut off his toes, one by one, until he talks? Then start on the fingers of his wand hand? Don't you think that would be effective?"

"Sure, but there's a danger of him bleeding to death, or fainting."

Moody nodded. "So you use crucio. What if he still won't tell?"

"Then you use it again until he will."

"So you crucio him until he's insane. Now he can't give you the answer, the bus blows up anyway, and your bomber is too crazy to stand trial. He becomes a ward of the state at St. Mungo's, where our taxes pay for a mass murderer to be fed and kept in relative comfort until the day he dies."

Harry frowned. "It's still a good use for the curse, which was what you wanted to hear."

"So you think that crucio shouldn't be Unforgiveable?"
Harry could sense that there was a trap, but he wasn't sure where it was. He didn't have time to think it through, though. "Correct. Its use should be highly regulated, and improper use should be severely punished, but there's no need to make it Unforgiveable."

"Neville Longbottom might disagree with you. I'll let you take it up with him, though."

"I still gave you a good use for crucio,though." Harry said, forging past Moody's non-sequitur.

"No, you didn't," Moody said. "I asked you to come up with any legitimate use for crucio, and the only use you could think of was torture. That's because torture is the ONLY use for cruicio. That, Potter, is why the Cruciatus is classified as Unforgiveable. We live in a society of law and order. Torture cannot be condoned. Regardless of the goal, torturing another human being is unforgiveable." Moody paused. "Want to try again?"

Dammit. Harry could see that Moody was right about crucio, but Harry couldn't abandon the point. "Imperio, then. You put a Death Eater under the Imperius Curse and infiltrate the criminal organization. You take it apart from within, preventing hundreds of crimes and saving lives."

"And if the person isn't a Death Eater? You send Tim the Innkeeper to speak to Lord Voldemort, and he's immediately killed."

"I get your point, we have to be sure that we're right. But if we know that Tim the Innkeeper is a Death Eater, my point is valid."

"So you infiltrate the Death Eaters by placing Tim the Innkeeper under the Imperius Curse. But now you have to keep your cover. How many crimes will commit in order to preserve your ruse? Why shouldn't you be punished for those crimes?"

"They would have been committed anyway."

"But it's your choice to commit them."

"Then I'll order Tim the Innkeeper to stay in the background. Let other Death Eaters do the dirty work."

"Potter, I'm going to start naming crimes." Moody ticked off the crimes on his fingers as he named them. "Blackmail. Slavery. Kidnapping. Rape. What do these crimes have in common?"

Shit. Shit shit shit. It was happening again. "They force somebody to do something that they don't want to do," Harry said reluctantly. Somehow Moody was taking a perfectly good example and twisting it into something else.

"Exactly. They're crimes of compulsion. Free will isn't optional in British society; free will is a necessity. You have heard of the Magna Carta, correct? Overbearing another person's free will is the most serious type of crime. Imperio is all the crimes I listed, combined into one."

Harry was getting desperate. "It would save dozens of lives. Both my hypotheticals would."

"Oh, so you'd do it for the greater good?" Moody's voice grew quiet. "Better wizards than you have gone down that path, Potter, and better wizards than you have gone dark because of it. You're on the edge of a slippery slope. Take care that you don't go over it."
Harry glared at Moody, but said nothing.

"There's only one other Unforgiveable left," Moody said quietly. The contrast with his normally booming voice was dramatic. "Do you want to have a go at it? Avada Kedavra. Come on, Potter. Do you want to argue in favor of the Killing Curse?"

Harry gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists. Moody knew what curse killed his parents. He was taunting Harry.

"Don't you want to argue in favor of the curse that gave you that scar? I'll even tell you what the argument is. Tell me that the Avada Kedavra is a quick, painless death. Tell me that it should be used for executions. Tell me that it's humane." Moody paused. "Of course, the counterargument is that we don't actually know how quick or painless the Avada Kedavra is, because nobody who is struck with the curse can live to tell about it."

Moody strode over to Harry's desk and placed his hands upon it. He leaned forward, looming directly over Harry. Harry looked straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge Moody's presence.

"But today is a special day," Moody said. "Harry Potter is right here. The only person to survive after being struck by the killing curse. Why don't you tell us how it felt? We can settle the debate, once and for all. Did it hurt? Did you feel anything at all?"

Harry's head was starting to ache from grinding his teeth together. He could feel his fingernails digging into his palms. A cold sweat had broken across his brow.

"Let him alone!" Tracey shouted from the front of the room.

Moody ignored her. "Perhaps another time, Potter." He laughed once, a gruff sound, then clomped toward the front of the room. "Next class period, we will have practical demonstrations of the Unforgiveable Curses."

"I thought you just said that they were useless," Draco snapped.

"I said that there was no good reason to use them," Moody said. "But I don't expect you to use them. I expect you to recognize them, to fear them, and, if possible… I expect you to fight them. The next class is not for the faint of heart. Come prepared. Until then, you are dismissed."

Harry rammed his quill and parchment into his bag and stormed out of the room. Draco and Pansy were close behind. Tracey had to run to catch up with Harry, and Nott was right next to her.

Pansy reached over and rubber her hand up and down Harry's upper arm. "Don't let him get to you."

"He's an old fool," Draco said.

Harry could only nod in agreement. He was so furious that he couldn't even speak.

"You have to be more careful, Harry," Nott said. "You can't go around doing things like that."

"Harry was right," Tracey said, disagreeing with Nott. "If you could save lives by using crucio or imperio, then it would be criminal if you didn't!"

"That's not what I meant," said Nott. "I agree with Harry, one hundred percent. There are uses for those curses. But you can't advertise it. Not as a Slytherin. Not publically. And especially not to Mad-Eye Moody!"

Harry glanced back at his friends. Every one of them was nodding.

"Sorry," Harry said with a sigh. "I just… couldn't let him keep attacking us. It's like he's got some sort of vendetta against all of Slytherin."

"He does," Draco said. "He's convinced that all our parents are all dark wizards—except for yours, of course. He's sure that we'll go dark immediately upon graduation."

"Or sooner," Pansy said.

Harry ran his hand through his hair. "This class is going to be a nightmare."

"I don't think we know the half of it," Draco said ominously.

A/N: The comments after last chapter raised a great point: why was Pansy forgiving Harry so quickly? I had my own theory, but I hadn't made it clear enough for the reader. Thus, I took some time to make it explicit at the beginning of this chapter. (And thereby made a long chapter even longer!)

Pansy did, in fact, forgive Harry too quickly. Why? Because she gets more social power by being Harry's friend than she would by being Harry's enemy. Harry is simply too popular to oppose at this point, and Pansy is not interested in social suicide. So, rather than starting a fight that she knows she will lose, Pansy manipulates Harry into a very public reconciliation, thereby restoring her place in the social hierarchy.