A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts - Chapter 434: Moody's Assignment

Ravende Brown muttered something under her breath.

“What did you say? I didn’t catch that,” Moody’s rough voice cut through as he stepped closer.

Startled, Ravende jolted back, a book slipping off her lap, landing with a ‘thud’ on the floor. She hurriedly picked it up and stashed it away.

“I, uh, I just said maybe because his target wasn’t me,” she blurted, her face flushing crimson.

A few chuckles rippled through the classroom.

Moody didn’t join in. Harry, Ron, Hermione—they didn’t either. They already knew the answer.

“You find that answer impressive, do you?” Moody said softly. “But what if you inadvertently hindered his plans… What then?”

The air seemed to freeze in the classroom. Moody hobbled a few steps forward, approaching Ravende, who trembled visibly.

Beside her, Pavati gathered courage. “Professor Moody, I think… dark wizards infiltrate schools with their own motives, don’t they? We faced a similar situation in first year, a dark wizard aimed to get hold of the… uh, Philosopher’s Stone?”

“It’s the Sorcerer’s Stone,” Hermione quietly corrected, glancing at the others.

Moody’s good eye focused on Pavati while his magical eye remained fixed on Ravende Brown.

“Miss Patil, you’re not wrong. Dark wizards infiltrate schools with their own objectives. Until they achieve their goal, caution is paramount. But that’s assuming everything goes smoothly…”

“But what if it doesn’t?” His scarred nostril twitched. “Like now, I noticed you because of a book. If ‘I’ were that dark wizard, if ‘I’ wanted to shift someone else’s attention…”

Moody suddenly whipped out his wand, a blinding burst of light shooting from its tip, shattering the classroom window, eliciting a string of screams.

Calmly, he waved his wand, the shattered glass and window frame restored.

“To a dark wizard, that window means as much as a life. If at any moment they decide a couple of deaths are insignificant in the school… Why shouldn’t one of those deaths be yours?”

“Moreover, it’s not just any dark wizard, it’s a more dangerous Death Eater, devoted to the Dark Lord’s cause, planning tirelessly for his return—”

“Professor, the Dark Lord is dead!” a student exclaimed, looking at Moody as if he’d lost his mind.

“Oh, really?” Moody grinned. “During the war, the Dark Lord would occasionally vanish, and some believed he was dead, but he always made a dramatic return with bloodshed. Perhaps he relished the drama.”

He extended his rough hand. “Miss Brown?”

“W-what?”

“That book,” Moody said calmly.

Ravende stood up, trembling, and handed over the newly bought “Contrary to Black Terror” to him.

Moody flipped a couple of pages, revealing a disgusted expression, then returned the book. Limping back to the podium, he sifted through a stack of parchment.

“Before I commence my tale, there’s something crucial—realization struck me: you’re too far removed from the war, your minds devoid of the concept…”

“Coincidentally, during my break, I didn’t sit idly. I organized some information,” Moody pointed at his head. “Professor Hipe advised me to jot down everything I could remember from the past six months, to find some lost memories…”

“I refused to put it on paper but spent a considerable time reflecting on my past experiences, even recalling older events. Some of it I deemed valuable for teaching purposes… Miss Brown, could you help me read?”

He gestured with his wand, and several parchment pages drifted towards Ravende Brown. As she glanced over them, her face turned pale.

“Miss Brown?” Moody stared at her intently.

“Oh, I… alright.” Ravende’s expression seemed on the brink of tears as she tremulously read aloud:

“Bellatrix Lestrange, a Death Eater, tortured countless Muggles and non-supporters during the wizarding war. Infamous for the Cruciatus Curse. Associated with at least 137 acts of terror, confirmed victims include 206 Muggles and 29 wizards. Victims such as…”

“Rodolphus Lestrange, a Death Eater, participated in the majority of his wife Bellatrix’s and brother Rabastan Lestrange’s actions… sentenced to life imprisonment.”

“Antonin Dolohov, a Death Eater, involved in the brutal murder of resistance fighters Fabian and Gideon Prewett… victims list… sentenced to life imprisonment.”

“Evan Rosier… killed by Aurors for resisting arrest after the Dark Lord’s downfall.”

“Old Mulciber, a Death Eater… died during the war.”

“Wilkes, a Death Eater… died during the war.”

“Young Mulciber, charged with using the Imperius Curse on multiple individuals, forcing them to commit horrendous acts, causing chaos and terror continuously… sentenced to life imprisonment.”

“Fenrir Greyback, a werewolf and leader of the werewolf community, notorious for attacking children. Devoted to turning more people into werewolves, aiming to establish a powerful army against wizards… followed the Dark Lord during the war, issued a Ministry warrant, still at large…”

As the bell rang, Ravende hadn’t finished reading, her complexion resembling that of someone struck by a serious illness.

Moody calmly retrieved the parchment. “We’ll continue in our next class. I find this session quite meaningful. Your homework for today is to research Death Eaters and compile a list of their actions. I’ve provided you with an example, haven’t I?”

“We could also discuss next class’s content—a thought occurred to me—those who sacrificed themselves resisting the Dark Lord’s reign during the war. You might want to do some pre-reading.”

Dragging his heavy feet, Moody left.

Students quietly packed up, no one in the mood for conversation. Ravende gagged and dashed out in tears, Pavati carrying their belongings following behind.

Ron stared, uneasy. “That was quite intense for her. I thought our classes this semester would be better…”

Harry sat pale-faced on his seat.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” Ron asked, concerned, while Hermione shook her head. Then it struck Ron—Harry’s parents had died during the war. He patted Harry’s shoulder.

“Fenrir Greyback,” Harry suddenly spoke up.

“What?” Ron and Hermione looked at him, bewildered.

“Fenrir Greyback,” Harry swallowed hard, “Sirius told me, Remus was bitten by someone named ‘Fenrir Greyback’ when he was a child. I thought that werewolf was sent to Azkaban. Turns out, he escaped punishment!”

Ron was startled at first, then realization dawned. He comforted, “Don’t worry, he won’t have it easy. If we come across him, we’ll catch him.”

His tone was like discussing an aggressive stray cat; all they needed to do was to kick it away if encountered.

Harry chuckled. Hermione, irritated, said, “Let’s focus on mastering the Warming Charm first. It’ll take time to practice swimming once the ice on the Black Lake melts!”

“Swim in January weather?” Ron’s mouth gaped, pondering this for the first time

.

“I’ve prepared a series of spells—Water-Repelling Charm, Warming Charm, Disapparition Charm, Bubble-Head Charm, or even a suit of magical armor, alongside some standard spells…” Hermione disregarded Ron, continuing, “We should finish these by the end of January, leaving enough time to prevent any unforeseen situations—”

“Have you arranged a time with Fred and George?” She turned to Ron.

Ron immediately stuttered, “N-not yet.”

“Well, why wait?” Hermione, hands on her hips, imperiously said, and Harry and Ron shrunk their necks.

As the last few students left the classroom, Draco Malfoy seemed troubled, his expression not much better than Ravende’s.

Ron sniped, “Maybe he’ll excel at this assignment. All he needs to do is write home and ask what his dad and those Death Eater friends did back then…”

Harry saw Malfoy pause but oddly, this time, he didn’t smirk at the remark. Instead, he walked away without a backward glance.

Turning around, Harry saw Hermione pick up a book from the back row.

“Oh, it’s one Ravende left behind. I think she might not be in the mood to pick it up… I’ll give it to her,” Hermione said, her gaze lingering on the author’s name on the cover, hesitating. “Of course, we can take a look at it first.”

…

Evening at the Ancient Runes office.

A beetle crawled through the window crack, transforming slowly into a human on the floor. Rita Skeeter gasped, particularly averse to meeting Felix alone, but she was at her wit’s end.

Her new home—showed signs of intrusion two days ago. She couldn’t fathom how ‘Barty Crouch Jr.’ would risk appearing near her house when there were wanted posters plastered everywhere.

“Maybe an ardent fan…”

But she couldn’t convince herself of this reasoning, especially with that Black trying to pry into her life. Blast it, she didn’t even mention ‘Black’ in her new book. At most, she hinted at the title and character background…

The room’s lights suddenly flicked on.

Rita Skeeter startled, wide-eyed, barely making out the figure seated on the sofa. She couldn’t help but shiver.

“Rita, I’ve been waiting for you.”

Felix spoke softly, holding Valen in his arms, the Niffler curiously observing her.

“It’s a human (bug turned into a person)?”

>

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