Hello all! So, Hogwarts is finally here! I know some of you have been excited for this haha. The pace of the story will pick up a bit from this chapter onwards since I do not plan to cover every single class int he year. Since I wrote this while re-reading the fourth book, I decided to only write scenes that have major changes and only mention things that literally happen in the book as well since repeating it would be pretty pointless. (like entering Hogwarts or the Sorting) When it is about important conversations I did include a few still that would have been strange to leave out but changed the wording or gave a summary to not be a bore haha. Scenes later on that do not apply at all anymore due to this fic branching off from canon will of course not be mentioned at all.
Thanks for all the reviews!
Chapter seventeen - Back to Hogwarts
''Stop that!''
Hermione frowned for the thousandth time, taking away the knife that he had been tapping against his empty plate during the welcoming feast. He couldn't help it, nervous as he was to await the owl post. Voldemort had said he'd send books... how would that even work per owl? And how was Harry supposed to react? Would there be a letter too? Would post from the Dark Lord just be let into Hogwarts? Surely there was some security in place that would recognise the man's magic or so. What if Dumbledore would instantly be alerted of their correspondence? Thus, he hadn't been able to stop himself from the nervous tick all through the Hat's song and now half of the Sorting Ceremony. For once he was happy about the raging thunder that was roaring outside, since it drowned out his clinking noises. His nerves were not helped by Colin and his newly-sorted brother who tried to get pictures of him. Harry did his best to ignore them like he'd done most of second year with Colin and Ginny, mind too preoccupied with the books he was expecting to pay attention to the two hyper boys, also not wanting to give Malfoy any reason to sneer at him again over his 'fans' or bully the new first-years.
He looked up when Nearly Headless Nick popped up out of the table. ''You're lucky there even is a feast,'' he commented. ''There was a terrible ruckus in the kitchen before. Peeves, of course. Wished to be there at the feast and wasn't allowed to.''
''Yeah, we noticed Peeves' behaviour before,'' Harry said. Before they had entered the Great Hall, the poltergeist had pelted all of them with water balloons. ''So what did they do in the kitchen?''
''Oh, the usual. Mayhem and destruction. The entire kitchen was swimming in soup and the House-elves were in blind panic.''
A loud sound was to be heard as Hermione dropped the knife she had confiscated from Harry before. ''There are House-elves here? In Hogwarts?'' she asked with a shrill voice.
''Of course, more than anywhere in Britain, I've heard,'' the ghost of Gryffindor answered. Harry wondered what this was all about, Hermione had never shown much interest in House-elves. She started inquiring about their living conditions and pay, to Ron's and Nick's great amusement. In the end she refused to eat another bite, muttering about slavery. Harry frowned, thinking of Dobby and knowing how badly he was treated. Ron thought Hermione's behaviour was a great joke but she was onto something. He knew himself how awful it was to be expected to have to behave like a small slave and get punished otherwise. It still didn't keep him from eating, he doubted it would make much of a difference to go on a hunger strike.
''I didn't know you cared much for elves,'' he asked the girl in all seriousness. She pressed her lips together and ogled the food with disgust.
''During the Quidditch World Cup, there was this one elf, Winky. She belonged to Mr Crouch and, in the turmoil after the Mark appeared in the sky, ran away in panic into the woods. Ron had lost his wand and she happened to find it and pick it up. Mr Crouch absolutely blew up at her for not staying where she'd been and for touching a wizard's belongings. He fired her on the spot despite her begging him not to leave her.''
''She sounded like she was quite happy being in his employment,'' Ron commented.
''Yes, and he treated her like the dirt under his shoe! I have no idea what became of that poor Elf, but I do know that it isn't right to treat any sentient beings like they are less than we are! They have their own culture and magic, why should they be bound to serve humans? It's horrible!'' At her last words, a loud crash of thunder rolled through the Hall again, and Albus Dumbledore stood up once more, any sounds apart from the rain and wind dying down. He gave his regular speech about forbidden objects and places before making the large announcement that Harry had known about already. An announcement that he'd completely forgotten to mention to his friends, now he thought of it.
''- the reason for this,'' Dumbledore continued with a loud voice, as he had just mentioned the cancellation of Quidditch this year and had to try and speak over the loud roars of discontent that followed, ''Is an event that will start in October,'' he grinned. Harry looked at the rest of his friends to see their reaction. All members of the Quidditch team, Oliver Wood in particular, were frozen in their seats. Harry himself had mixed feelings about it. He absolutely loved Quidditch, but he had just taken it upon himself to catch up to an entire year of two elective courses. It did come as a surprise to him that the Triwizard Tournament would only start next month, he'd expected the students of the other schools to already have arrived. Good thing that he hadn't mentioned it to anyone then, it would have been odd for him to have gotten that fact wrong. As Dumbledore continued, another loud wave of thunder crashed down, and the doors to the Great Hall fell open.
A man came in, who instantly had everyone's eyes glued on him. He walked with a stick and wore a large black travel cloak. During his walk towards the teacher's table, the mysterious figure took off his hood and shook the rain from mid-length, grey hair. Lightning flashed and lit up a face full of scars and one entire blue eye that shot into all directions. Harry watched the imposing form as he went up to Dumbledore, fascinated by the disfigurements on the man's face.
''That's Mad-Eye!'' Ron whispered with barely hidden awe.
''Who?'' Harry asked.
''Mad-Eye Moody, ex-Auror. Completely bonkers but in the First war he was responsible for filling half of the cells in Azkaban with Death Eaters, I've heard form dad! Nowadays he's even more off his rocker, a couple of weeks ago he thought someone was sneaking around in his garden and set some enchanted garbage bins on them. Dad figures it was just a cat, but he had to pull a lot of strings to get away with charging Moody with only a light offense for Misuse of Muggle Artefacts.''
''Why did he?'' Harry frowned. ''Isn't he supposed to treat everyone equally?''
''Well yeah, normally, but Moody is a hero, and he's tight with Dumbledore too.''
''I see,'' Harry replied darkly, glowering at the Headmaster, who signed for the stranger to sit at the only empty seat. So this was their new teacher of Defence Against the Dark Arts? Harry frowned suddenly. Moody... he'd heard that name before somewhere. Had it come up in conversation before with his friends? No, he didn't think so... He watched the man like a hawk, who sat down and, in doing so, revealed both scarred hands and an elegantly-carved wooden leg that ended in a claw. Both of his eyes, the large blue and black small one, met Harry's in a piercing gaze. The teen thought to see a quick smirk flash over the man's face. A moment later he wasn'T so sure anymore if it had been there at all: any movement was hard to see in the flickering light and on the jagged mouth. Moody instantly started eating, taking a small knife of his own instead of the cutlery next to his plate to stab a sausage. During Dumbledore's continued announcement to welcome the man, he continued in silence, also taking a small flask to sip from.
Harry ignored most of the rest of Dumbledore's speech about the Tournament in favour of taking in the man, wrecking his brain to remember where he'd heard the name before. It was a horrid feeling, reminding him of when they had tried to search for Nicholas Flamel and in the end figured it had stood on a Chocolate frog card. Despite his focus on Moody, he still heard enough of Dumbledore's words to decide that only a reckless idiot with a death wish would try to participate in this thing. Or someone who desperately needed money, judging by Ron's instant enthusiasm, which diminished at the mention of the necessary age restriction.
He remained a lot calmer during the whole speech than many of his classmates, having already decided that he didn't need fame nor glory, and the age restriction also made it so that he wouldn't need to worry about any of it. As he would not participate, he also wasn't very interested in the rumours that spread instantly about who the judges would be, where the students of the other schools would sleep or how to trick the age line. He looked up as a few owls flew in. There weren't many, as most parents had seen their children just this morning still. Harry sadly did not spot any with a package, and neither did any owls land near him. He would have to postpone his nerves to tomorrow then.
The anxiety certainly returned with much more force as he sat down at the breakfast table with his friends the following morning. Hermione had instantly given up her hunger strike again, having enough insight to see that it would not be the most effective method of showing her disdain for the House-elf treatment. Harry poured himself another glass of ice-cold pumpkin juice, hoping it would wake him up a bit more. They could really do with some coffee at Hogwarts to be entirely honest. He hadn't been able to get much sleep, having tried to explore the link between him and Voldemort. If the other man could actively invite him in dreams, shouldn't Harry be able to do the same? He'd failed spectacularly, not being able to get through at all.
Owls screeched and he looked up as the morning post came in, hundreds of birds bringing newspapers, letters and items that the students had forgotten to take with them. Neville had a total of five owls throwing packages at him and he had to hide under his plate to not get wings in his face. Harry was so concentrated on searching for a large package that he was completely taken off-guard when a letter and a tiny box landed in between his strips of bacon. Perplexed, he took it in between his fingers and studied the little black chest. Failing to figure out a way to open it after a few unsuccessful tries, he decided that it would be better to read his letter first.
''Is it from Padfoot?'' Hermione whispered, leaning closer to look at it.
''No, just something from... a shop I was at. Book order.''
''And they write you a letter?'' she asked, raising her eyebrows. Harry shrugged, not able to come up with anything better, his eyes flying over the lines.
I hereby send you what was promised last time we spoke. It will certainly aid you in your studies, on the curriculum or otherwise. I also included a few other tomes that may spark your interest. At your request, I am certain that we could arrange for another meeting if you need aid..
I expect that you will do your best.
The box will reveal its contents only to those who speak.
There was no signature, nor did there need to be. He found it interesting that Voldemort's handwriting was not the same as it had been when the man had attended Hogwarts. His changes in appearance showed even in things like this, the writing was much thinner and more elegant than it had been in the diary.
''Doesn't look much like a regular book order,'' Hermione said in a clipped tone, clearly miffed about Harry not having spoken the truth. ''What does 'those who speak' mean?''
''Doesn't matter, I'm going to bring this up now,'' he answered, stuffing the small box into his pocket. His heart was beating fast at the thought of that the most powerful wizard in at least half of Europe was sending him books and letters. The line about requesting meetings made him pause. Did that mean that he should write Voldemort about when he wanted to be invited into dreams again? That could be... interesting. He was the first to arrive in the common room and went straight to the boy's dorms as there were a few paintings too many in the common room that he didn't want listening in or reporting to the Headmaster.
Throwing himself on his bed, Harry took out the box again. ~Open~ he hissed, yelping after when it grew vastly in size and crushed Harry's chest. ''Damn, could've warned me,'' he moaned. Eagerly, he unpacked the box, revealing a set of old books with fragile, yellowed pages. Had he been sent originals? He placed them all on his bed and looked at the titles, trying to decide which ones to start with. Our Forgotten Rites? Or rather An introduction to bindrunes, clusters and more? Then his eye fell on one book which he at first had thought to have no title at all. It had a leather-bound cover and a relief of a hand on it. As he looked closer, he made out tiny, silvery letters that formed the lines of the hand, spelling out The hand that guides, offers and protects. Intrigued, he cracked it open and looked at the introduction. Unfortunately, it did not contain a list of contents. It became clear pretty soon as he started reading that the book was a treasure-trove when it came to sacrificial magic. It described the different types of dark magic in the sense of how Voldemort had spoken of it, as heavy magic that needed offerings to work. The first chapter alone covered all types of possible sacrifices, among which were many surprising ones such as time, lifespan, relationships and other intangible matters.
Voices woke him from his reading and he scrambled to pack all the books away again before anyone came in. He almost succeeded, just taking the last one, an incredibly heavy and thick black book that he hadn't glanced at before, as Ron and Dean came in, talking loudly about the World cup. ''Hey Harry,'' Ron greeted. ''You were gone quickly at breakfast. What's that?''
Not entirely sure himself either, Harry quickly peered down. His heart shot up in his throat as he read the title, not because of what it said -Praecantatio Levis et Gravis: a correct classification- but because of the handwriting, the same fine slant that stood in the letter that burned in Harry's pocket. Had Voldemort just fucking sent him a book that he wrote? ''Only a book on magic classification,'' he spoke, his voice feeling unnaturally high. ''I read in our Defence textbook that some hexes and jinxes were put into the 'curse' category to have them banned. I wondered if that happened to other types of magic too.''
''Oh,'' Ron said on a bored tone. ''You do realise we've barely started out first day of class and we don't have Defence until Thursday yeah?''
''I know, I wasn't planning on reading this through instantly, look at how thick it is! I just wanted to see if it has the Patronus charm on the list. With how difficult it is I wondered if it was really a charm or not.
''And?''
''I didn't find it yet,'' he shrugged, putting the book on his nightstand. At times like these, he was incredibly glad that he shared a dorm with Ron and not with Hermione, who would not have stopped before she knew everything about those books. He truly loved the girl, but sometimes her sense of precaution and thirst for knowledge combined bordered on annoying curiosity. ''Will have another look later, we've got Herbology first thing right?'' Without waiting for Ron, he started packing his bag for the day: Herbology, Care of magical creatures, Divination... he was glad to not have Potions or History of Magic on Monday, he didn't think he could bear to deal with such horrid classes so soon, especially not when Snape was involved. All the information about him and Harry's mother had still not been fully processed.
The day was pretty eventful with all the practical lessons they had, from dealing with rather angry plants, to even angrier spawn from hell that Hagrid lovingly called his babies, to Trelawney's new predictions about all the ghastly ways in which Harry would die. Though he had to admit, knowing now that the woman had made at least two real prophecies certainly did make him a bit more wary of her, even if she didn't get a raspy voice and trance-like state during class. That wariness watered down a bit again when she stated that his birthday definitely had to be in midwinter. He was surprised that she didn't even have enough foresight to look up basic information about her favourite victims for predictions.
The next two days were rather boring. He wrote a short letter of thanks back to Voldemort, knowing that Hedwig should be able to find him. She- or he, as Barty had reminded Harry, a fact which he still didn't much care about since she was just an animal- didn't look happy one bit to return to the people who had locked her up in the attic. Harry couldn't exactly blame his pet. In his reply, the teen had also added, after much internal debating, a request for another dream meeting as soon as possible. As Hedwig had to fly all the way down to the south of England, he didn't expect an answer for a while. In the meantime, Harry tried to ignore Snape as much as possible, which cost him quite a few house points which were rewarded back to him by Hagrid for every little thing Harry did, much to Malfoy's protesting. He also spent quite a bit of time with his new books, all of them containing fascination new information. Harry did actually look up the Patronus charm, which Voldemort classified as 'Heavy, instantaneous defensive charm' with the listed sacrifice of pure happy memories. The explanation that came after made him do a double-take:
'The Patronus itself is not, as many believe, a personification of the chosen memory. Rather, it is a summoned guardian that uses the emotions in this memory as attraction and distraction for any Dementors present. These feed on the happiness the Patronus exudes, giving the spell a chance to use its real power of then repelling or even harming the Dementors. It is still unclear how it achieves this exactly. Considering the fact that Dementors could consume any positivity around them, it can be ruled out that the provided happiness is used as its weapon since that would only nurture the very beings it tries to repel. As a result of the caster offering happy memories, any nearby Dementors may consume these emotions, leaving the chosen memory void of such. While classified as a heavy charm due tothe sacrificial nature of the spell, it could also be said to lie in between light and heavy, since the sacrifice offered is not guaranteed to be consumed. Patroni may also be used as messengers, in which case no Dementors are present to take its bait.
Harry's mind had whirled at that for quite a while, not having known that those memories he used to create his Patronus could actually be damaged by it. Had Lupin known? Possibly not, Voldemort did say that the Ministry meddled in classifications of spells for a long time already. He had put the other books aside for now to flip through this one, finding it useful to first see which of the spells he had learnt in these past years fell under dark magic without him ever knowing it. There actually weren't many, since most spells that had been identified as dark had been made illegal even when they weren't very harmful, but some had had such a good reputation that they'd just been branded as 'light' instead and taught anyways. Besides the Patronus charm, other spells classified as dark were the Exumai series, which he'd actually first seen Tom Riddle use in the diary with Arania Exumai to blast off Acromantulas, Homing spells, Hermione's famous bluebell flames, Deprimo and detection charms. All of these required a sacrifice in one way or the other. It wasn't always a large one either: the bluebell flames only required an offering of a constant stream of magic and a bit of the caster's body heat to fuel it even after casting.
There were other dark spells that he could vaguely recall reading about when flipping through his textbooks too, but not an awful lot. It reminded him of when the Dark Lord had told him that most spells were light in nature and that even dark mages thus mostly depended on light magic in their everyday lives. He could see why it would be so difficult to balance out light and dark magic considering this. Then again, wasn't Voldemort only chosen as a Dark Lord because the balance was now extremely off? There had always been dark and light families even without any Dark Lords being around, hadn't there been? And in other parts of the world, dark magic became so strong that there was even a need for Light Lords to shift the balance back. Perhaps the man was being a bit overzealous with his job... There had to be a reason why so many more spells were light in nature if Magic had intended for balance to be completely half and half. Wouldn't one heavy spell also have a larger impact than a couple of light ones together?
He suddenly looked at the time and cursed, realising that he was nearly late for his first class of the day. McGonagall would never let him live after coming late the first time he had her class in the year. He could forget any and all favours or sympathy from her until after next summer if he did. He snatched the Marauder's map to scan for shortcuts and see where teachers and Prefects stood around -in which case he couldn't run in those parts of the castle-. With the help of his trusty map, Harry barely made it in the nick of time, red in the face and with his tongue on his heels.
It was a small mercy that Transfiguration was together with the Ravenclaws, who had never cared much about him or his appearance in class. If Malfoy had been here... but the only courses this year that were together with the Slytherins were Care of magical creatures, Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts. All other classes were split with either Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw, which was a nice change. In his first year he'd had nearly everything with Slytherin as far as he could recall. He also hoped that Moody, as an ex-Auror who went up hard against Death Eaters, wouldn't let Malfoy and his cronies get away with anything. He still had to wait a couple more hours to see. First he had to sit through the mostly theoretical lecture of McGonagall, who explained that this year they would start with interspecies Transfiguration after two weeks of reviewing animate-to-inanimate spells. Later that year they would also move onto transfiguring matters they hadn't yet before, such as live plants and fungi. They'd always focused on either lifeless or animal matter until now.
After class, Harry, Hermione and Ron went to the library for their double free period after strong insistence on Hermione's part, who was adamant on not letting either of them slack off on homework this year. Harry had to admit that the workload had certainly risen, even Binns had given them an essay to write, and Binns didn't even know he had students half of the time. It slightly annoyed him that he couldn't run up to Gryffindor tower to continue in Voldemort's book but that couldn't be helped. Apart from being swamped in homework, he also hadn't had a chance to make a good start on his self-chosen misery of taking on two additional courses in his spare time. Hermione quickly remedied that, apparently seeing it as her duty to ensure he wouldn't quit before even starting. At least it meant that she wasn't as harsh on him about regular homework as she was on Ron.
Finally, it was time to sate their curiosity about Mad-eye, who they had heard the wildest rumours about, mostly stemming from the Twins and Lee Jordan. The three had already had Moody on Monday and could only speak of him with awe, although they were awfully tight-lipped about what they'd actually been taught. As a result of the hype around their new teacher, for once every student was there early. Harry, Hermione and Ron managed to quickly take up three spots in the front row to see everything well. Malfoy, being the little prick that he was, sat down right behind Harry and poked him in the back a few times with his wand, snickering softly as Harry ignored it as well as he could.
After the last people had taken their seats, Moody entered, both of his eyes flicking into other directions to watch his students. ''So,'' he barked. ''I'm just going to go ahead and skip the introductions. You know who I am. And as for who you are...'' he cleared his throat and took out a list to call their names, both eyes unnervingly lingering on the student whose name he was at as he went down the list. ''Well then, I've received a note from your previous professor to get me up to date on what you've learned so far. I admit that Lupin left behind pretty impressive knowledge on dark creatures, but you are far, far behind on dealing with actual curses. In the coming year I'll try to remedy that.'' Harry noticed that Ron wanted to say something, but Moody already continued. ''And I see that one of you lot already volunteered for the first demonstration. Oi Blondie,'' he shouted, shooting a blue beam out of his wand that fizzed past Harry's ear and resulted in a loud yelp from Malfoy. ''If you have enough time to be a little prick to your classmates, you have time to suffer. Come up here.'' The class broke out into excited whispers, with a few Gryffindors who were more regularly bullied by Malfoy wearing wide grins. Harry couldn't help but have the same reaction, watching with interest as the pale boy went up to the front of the classroom, trying to hide his shaking with a sneer.
''All of you can put your books away too,'' Moody huffed. ''I'll give you some reading to do between classes, but none of that during the time I could show you more interesting things. Now, as far as curses go, they come in all levels of nastiness. According to the Ministry I should just teach you shields and counter-curses, but I think differently. There has been a war before and Dumbledore seems to be convinced there might be another one soon.'' Harry raised his eyebrows at that. Dumbledore had already caught onto something? Or was this because of Voldemort's attempt to gain the philosopher's stone? Shaking the thought from his mind for now, he tried to pay attention instead as Moody continued: ''As such, you need to know what you are up against to defend yourselves against it. So, let's jump straight in with the worst curses of all... who has heard of the Unforgivables?'' Draco looked at Moody with wide eyes and started to stutter, paling even further. ''Ah, my target has, hmm? Come then, tell me what I should demonstrate as your punishment.''
Ron's hand shot up in the air, slightly trembling as Malfoy only shook his head and pressed his lips together. Malfoy was too busy being scared to throw Ron a dirty glance. The rest of the class had also fallen silent, and Harry gave Moody a thoughtful stare. The man was kidding, right? He wouldn't actually be allowed to cast unforgivable curses on a student, right? Barty had told him briefly before what those curses did and he couldn't imagine Dumbledore being very happy about one of his students turning up dead.
Moody was eyeing Ron now, a seldom smile on his face. ''Mr Weasley... Arthur Weasley's son, yes? Your dad did me a favour a few weeks back... I take it that you know one of the spells I wish to hear?''
''The... the Imperius curse,'' Ron said hoarsely.
Moody's smile vanished. It was almost as if he would have liked to hear another one. Harry sighed in relief. While certainly dangerous, the Imperius was still the milder one of the three unless Moody would actively command Malfoy to do things that would harm the boy. Without a further word, their teacher pointed his wand at Malfoy and cast it. Harry leaned forward, studying Malfoy's suddenly blank face. Interesting, if he wouldn't have known that Draco was cursed, Harry probably would have mistaken that expression for boredom, it was no wonder that it was hard to prove who had been under the Imperius curse and who hadn't. ''Now, what should I have him do?'' Moody asked in a dark voice that rang a couple of alarm bells in Harry's head. ''The Imperius curse lets you control your victim in any way that you want. I could make him do handstands or sing a duet with himself...'' a few people laughed. ''Or... I could make him humiliate himself by undressing in front of everyone.'' Another laugh and a few whistles rang through the room. A knot formed in Harry's stomach. ''Or I could make him jump until he is so worn out that his feet bleed. Let him take his wand and snap in half, make him crawl to that window there and throw himself to his death... swear an unbreakable vow to his worst enemy. The possibilities are endless.'' The class had fallen silent now, each and every person holding their breath, wondering what Moody would make Malfoy do. When the boy finally moved, it was as if an electric shock went through the classroom. In horror, Harry watched as Malfoy walked down from the teacher's podium again with that awfully blank face and halted next to Harry's desk. The blond crumpled together in front of him.
''I'm sorry for being an awful human being Potter. I apologise for every single thing I did to you. It was horrible of me to insult you so often, to bully you, I just cannot cope with who I am as a person and need to act out my self-hatred on others to feel superior.''
''Stop it,'' Harry whispered.
''I wish I could be the one who others looked up to. I wanted so desperately to befriend you in my fist year and you turned me down for a blood-traitor. I need to save face, I need to-''
''Stop!'' Harry shouted furiously, looking at Moody now, who flicked his wand a single time to lift the spell. Malfoy gasped and looked up at Harry, face reddening. Without another word, the boy snatched his bag and walked out of the classroom, head hung low. ''Why did you make him say those things to me!'' Harry demanded.
''I didn't,'' Moody calmly spoke. ''As interesting as the result was, I only told him to confess the reason he bullies you. Didn't know that he had such an inferiority complex. That is the other aspect of this spell: it leaves much room for interpretation. You do not need to control every single action of the victim. Simply ordering them to go about their lives as normal would be enough of a command to make them act like everything is fine while they are still under the influence of the Imperius curse.'' Harry sat there, stunned, and then glanced at the door where Malfoy had disappeared off to.
''How much do they remember?'' he asked.
''Every single word,'' Moody grinned, a smile which wavered as he took in Harry's stare. ''Don't sweat it kid, thought you'd be happy with some justice.''
''I do not think that bullying bullies solves the problem, Sir,'' Harry replied stiffly. ''And neither does just locking them up forever, for that matter, certainly not when the spells you threw them in prison for are the same ones you now act out in involuntary student demonstrations.'' He stood up, feeling his anger rising. Sure, Malfoy was a ball of hateful slime but that didn't mean that it was right to publicly shame the guy, especially now that Harry knew the entire reason for Malfoy's behaviour was such a pathetic one as not feeling good enough. ''Would you also like to demonstrate the other ones Sir? I've been told that I am the only survivor of one of them so I'd probably make a perfect target.''
Moody only stared at him for a while, a staring contest that Harry was hell-bent on winning. ''You sure are a hardy one Potter. No worries, I only got permission to cast the Imperius curse on students. If you'd like to have a go though? Let's see if you are just as resilient against that one as against the Killing Curse.''
''NO!'' Hermione suddenly shrieked, standing up and pushing a perplexed Harry down in his chair. ''Professor, with all respect, I do not think that professor Dumbledore-''
''Albus is the one who asked me to confront you with these curses girl. Sit down and tell me the one Unforgivable that hasn't been mentioned yet.'' Hermione's eyes flashed, but she couldn't resist answering a teacher.
''The Cruciatus curse, which inflicts pain by stimulating pain receptors in the brain. While it has no physical consequences, it can drive people insane in the most extreme cases after being used for an extended period of time,'' she rattled off. ''It was invented during the early Middle Ages by dark witches and wizards and declared unforgivable in 1717 together with the other two, resulting in a life sentence in Azkaban when used on another human.''
''Very well done with that extensive explanation Ms. Granger,'' Moody spoke, eyebrows rising in surprise. ''Twenty points to Gryffindor. The Cruciatus, or Torturing curse, is a force to be reckoned with when the caster knows what they are doing. An addition I would like to make to all three curses though, is that while these were labelled as unforgivable, the Ministry has made many exceptions over the years. During the last war, the Killing curse was free to use on dark magicians for all Aurors, and many trials were bypassed in favour of torturing information out of suspects.'' He didn't sound one bit sorry, Harry noticed. In fact, it sounded as if Moody was completely detached from those happenings, as if he had not been part of that taskforce. Even though he hadn't wanted to participate in the debate any further, Harry still rose his hand when a thought struck him.
''Yes, Potter?''
''What is their price?'' he asked, receiving a few non-understanding looks from his peers. ''All dark arts need sacrifices, right?''
''You're right,'' Moody muttered, taking him in with fascination. ''All dark spells require very different offerings. With the Unforgivables, two out of three need sacrifices.'' He left the implications of that unexplained, which reminded Harry of that Barty had also said that one of the Unforgivables was a light spell. ''One might think that the Killing curse would be satisfied with the life it takes, but its real price is that the caster's very soul becomes damaged. Not an awful lot each time, small rips, but over time enough to cause the caster to grow dehumanised if no preventive measures are taken.''
''One's soul?'' Dean Thomas scoffed. ''Are you telling me that souls are real?
''Very real, Mr. Thomas, and they are very fragile things. Damage your soul enough and you will not even be able to become a ghost even if you wish for it. Now, onto the Cruciatus curse, very interesting piece of work that one. Can you guess as to the offering involved, Mr. Potter?''
''Errr..'' Harry said, rubbing his neck and trying to remember if he could think of anything. Had Voldemort mentioned anything about that? Or Barty? He knew that the effects could cause the victims to go insane, but knew hardly anything about its effects on the caster. ''It causes instability?'' he guessed, randomly picking one of the more common sacrifices he'd read about now in the book upstairs.
''Not as a direct effect, although it has been debated that mental troubles may be linked to casting the Torturing curse on people. In which direction that correlation goes is not entirely clear yet. No, the sacrifice is emotions. To be specific, one has to channel intense hatred for the victim and a strong will to cause pain.''
''But wouldn't that cause those who cast it often to lose the ability to do so if those emotions get taken?'' Harry asked, confused.
''Ah, you come to the crux of the matter. The Cruciatus curse is what we call a living curse, or a continuous curse, meaning that the second time you cast it, it will remember the offering of the first time etcetera. This means that yes, you will lose those emotions to a certain degree, but you also will need less of it each time. Those who become proficient enough in casting it do no longer require a sacrifice at all. The effects on those people is still severe however, a general indifference can settle in if the after-effects of losing part of one's emotions isn't well-taken care of. Just as a note though, the effect can be artificially reversed when done quickly enough.''
Harry listened with interest, trying to shove the whole thing with Malfoy to the back of his head for now to concentrate on the lesson. It wouldn't do to spend the rest of the time refusing to listen. While he might not agree with Moody's form of punishment, his further teaching was absolutely amazing. The man liked going off on a tangent as a response to whatever question they had, rather explaining it all at once than cutting corners by claiming that part 'wasn't in the curriculum' as so many other teachers loved to do. Consequently, they learned perhaps more in a single lesson than had ever been the case, not only the Unforgivable curses themselves being explained and demonstrated, but also much knowledge being given about living curses, sacrificial magic, magic addiction and how to purify oneself and counter negative effects of offerings. Harry now understood what the Weasley Twins had meant when they had gone on about someone who 'got' how real life and real magic was. As someone who had hunted many dark wizards, Moody had become an expert on the topic himself.
The last half an hour was not so pleasant. He was forced back into reality when they had to practise resisting the Imperius curse, with Moody demonstrating it on a few other people, including himself. Surprisingly, he was rather resistant against it. Professor Moody thought it was due to his stubborn nature, Harry thought it more likely that Voldemort's protection played a large role. His temper had risen again as the practical part brought forth images of Malfoy's face.
At the end of class, when Harry started packing his back, he was held back by a hand that roughly clapped on his shoulder. Looking back, he jumped slightly at seeing that blue, spinning eye so close up to his face. ''Potter, stay behind,'' the man spoke, his tone so neutral that Harry couldn't begin to guess as to Moody's intentions. He motioned for his friends to continue on without him. When the room was empty, the man took a chair and sat down in front of Harry's desk, having his chair the wrong way around. Judging by the added difficulty of doing so with a wooden leg, Harry wondered why. He met Moody's thoughtful stare head-on, not afraid of this fanatic ex-Auror. He'd had Voldemort carve into his skin and hold him under the Cruciatus curse, there was nothing that his teacher could do that would compare.
''You don't agree with my methods, do you boy?'' A note of wry amusement eased Harry's worry somewhat. ''Despite knowing that Malfoy is a little, arrogant bully?''
''No,'' Harry answered. ''No I don't, there are far better ways of punishment than humiliation and pain.''
''And what about your opinion on locking people up? Do you disagree with our country's legal actions for murderers?''
''For some murderers,'' he corrected coolly, squaring his shoulders. ''As far as I recall, you taught us today that the Killing curse was also used by Ministry employees, including, I suppose, yourself?''
A smirk spread over rough, chapped and scarred lips. ''As much as I loathe Severus Snape, he was right about one thing. You absolutely despise figures of authority, don't you Potter?''
''I could see how you would reach that conclusion sir, but no, I harbour great respect for those who deserve their position of authority, such as professor McGonagall.''
Moody barked out a laugh, a very out-of-place reaction for a teacher who was getting talked back at by a student. ''I can see why you are both so popular and loathed at the same time. Run along now.'' Harry blinked in surprise. He wasn't getting punished? ''You'll be late for your next class if you keep sitting there, gawking at me.''
Thinking it best to not make the man any wiser than he was, Harry omitted the fact that he didn't have any other class that day and gathered his things. When outside, he opened the Marauders map, having an idea. After searching the map for a good while, first checking the dungeons and other classrooms, he found the tiny dot of Draco Malfoy on the fifth floor in a seldom used corridor that led to nowhere but old storage rooms. Making a decision, Harry quickly went up to Gryffindor tower first before heading two floors down again, carefully approaching the little dot and stuffing his map away again when he saw a whiff of blond hair. ''Malfoy,'' he greeted, making the others' head shoot up. Red-rimmed eyes glowered darkly. Had Malfoy been sitting here for the entire rest of their double class?
''What the hell are you doing here, come to gloat? Is the Weasel, or that annoying little runt who always buzzes after you, around the corner with a camera?''
''I'm not like you,'' Harry sighed and fished something out of his pocket before throwing it in a wide arch to Malfoy so the other could catch it easily.
''I don't need your disgusting Muggle stuff,'' he sneered after eyeing the package suspiciously.
''First of all, it's not mine, I borrowed it from Dean. Secondly, I've sneaked after you enough times to Hogsmeade last year to know that you smoke when you think no-one apart from your cronies are around.''
Draco huffed. ''And why didn't you report it then?''
''Like how you instantly ran to Snape when you found out I'd gone to Hogsmeade without permission?'' Harry smirked. ''I already told you that I'm not like you. I don't care much for others breaking school rules. If there even is one against it, I haven't heard of any smoking restrictions, either at school or by other laws. We're also allowed to drink alcohol at thirteen already so... I wouldn't know. Not my business anyways. If you want to waste your lungs, fine by me. For all I know, there's a spell to fix them up in a second.''
Without answering, the other boy clenched a cigarette between his teeth and lit it with the tip of his wand. Harry slid down the wall next to him and waited in silence. ''You want to play saviour for me now too Potter? Expect me to cry out all of my woes? You'll be sorely disappointed.'' Malfoy made a disgusted noise, then took a second cigarette. Harry found it was a good sign that the boy hadn't run off or tried to hex him yet.
''Don't be stupid, I hardly care enough about you to do that. No, I came here because.. well, to fix my own mistake I guess. I had no idea that a large part of the reason why you hate me so much was because I refused your hand of friendship that day. I figured it had more to do with you finding out I was a disgusting half-blood, got in Gryffindor and had friends you didn't like.''
''None of those made me less inclined to give you hell here. You don't belong at Hogwarts.'' Those words were a harsh blow that Harry tried very hard not to get angry over.
''I belong here like any other who got their letter,'' he said between clenched teeth. ''And apart from here, I don't belong anywhere else either.''
''Oh? Don't tell me that the little saviour of the Wizarding World didn't get enough cookies as a kid to regard whoever you grew up with as your home?'' Harry's mouth twitched and he bit his tongue. This was not a good moment to blow up at Malfoy, that was exactly what he was trying to prevent now. He reminded himself that for all their differences, they were on the same side now, even if for entirely different reasons.
''Look Malfoy, I came here to try and talk things out, we're not eleven anymore.''
The blond laughed bitterly. ''What would you have me do? Act like the example we've been given from adults and cast the Imperius curse on you? I bet you must have loved that, having me grovel at your feet.'' Grey eyes flicked to his face, uncertainty visible beneath the act of arrogance.
''If I'd have loved it I wouldn't be here giving you a smoke, would I?'' he dryly replied. ''No, I told Moody exactly what I thought of his little stunt. I already hate it when Snape tries to make people look dumb by asking them impossible questions and then insulting them after. This was so much worse... Dumbledore was, in my opinion, out of line too in giving permission to some paranoid old loon with obvious prejudices against your family, to use the Imperius curse on students. It was obvious that nothing good would come out of that, no matter how good of a teacher he turned out to be after.''
''Whatever,'' Malfoy eloquently answered. Half the package was empty by now, Harry was glad that he borrowed the thing without telling Dean first. Now he could just play it off as if he had no idea where the boy's cigarettes had gone. For a while, Draco made shapes in the smoke with his wand.
''I'll be sorry for refusing your handshake if you'll apologise for insulting every nice person I had met in this world up until that point. You were a right prick you know that? Still often are.'' Malfoy just rolled his eyes at that.
''Go away Potter, we're not in Kindergarten. You think a smile and a wave is going to settle my issues with you?''
''I know that your reputation is probably in shambles now because of Moody and that it means the world to you to get it back. You can either try for years to earn it back by regaining your fearsome reputation as first-class school bully and sucking up to Snape, or I can vouch for your pride not being damaged by me in any way. If you refuse, I'll let the Weasley Twins fuel the fire as much as I possibly can.''
''You're a bastard,'' Malfoy spoke, but his words lacked their usual venom. ''What do you want in return?'' Harry honestly hadn't really thought of anything, just hoping that Malfoy would be a little bit less of an arse if they talked things out. Having Malfoy owe him a favour however, might be incredibly handy... He could ask to get in contact with Draco's dad so he could keep track of the man's workings for Voldemort once the Dark Lord contacted his follower. Or he could end all the bullying in the castle from Draco's side. Then again, that might not go down well with the other Slytherins.
''I want for us to chat sometimes and to keep whatever you hear a secret,'' he decided. ''I have a few topics that I can't discuss with anyone else.'' He hesitated, wondering if this was really such a good idea. Wouldn't Malfoy snitch on him in the end? ''I know I'd be pushing a lot of trust on you, someone I haven't been able to trust for three years now. Then again, I've recently gotten to know a few people whom I also thought were out for my blood and that worked out well.''
''You'd be stupid to trust me Potter.''
''Maybe... but I know some things that you'd also profit from to being kept quiet. You were home this summer, were you not?''
''Yes, and?''
''Does the night between the 20th and 21st of August ring any bells? Somewhere around midnight?'' Draco's face paled a few shades further than Harry thought could be possible. Apart from that, the boy was surprisingly good at not showing any emotions.
''Why, did I miss a newspaper about you finally losing your virginity or what?'' the boy snapped. Harry reddened at the suggestion, especially when that image was instantly accompanied by how he'd practically rubbed all over Voldemort's naked, newly-born body. He coughed to cover up his embarrassment.
''No, but that tattoo on your daddy's arm should have turned a whole lot darker than it was before. Think on that, I'll need to head back to the common room now before anyone misses me.'' Harry stood up and walked away far more calmly than he felt, feeling Malfoy's piercing glare on his back. He could only hope that this hadn't been a too stupid move.
Please Read and Review! And Draco is now on board! Or is he? *grin*
Are there any characters that you'd like to appear more in the story? (I did write everything until the end of fourth year by now, but am not against putting in any additional scenes still since the year is pretty long.)