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THE CURSED LINE & BLESSED HEIR
🕑 Added 2024-02-22 18:28:42 +0000 UTCChapter 6- International Guests
Harry stretched in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Nothing of importance took place at the sorting yesterday. The twins were their usual selves, meeting him as soon as he walked into the Great Hall with Katie, Angelina and Alicia. He had sat along with his Quidditch teammates for dinner rather than the usual spot he took with his friends.
Friends. Ron and Hermione had not graced him with a look the entire time they were around him yesterday. He had hoped that there might be something he could salvage, but it seemed that it was all over.
His sob story of having no friends aside, the newly appointed Defence teacher was what interested him: Alastor Moody, a former Auror. The man was a legend in the auror department from what he heard from Sirius. He was a man who left no loose ends from what he heard about. Extremely violent and paranoid. He was single-handedly responsible for three-fourths of the population of Azkaban.
One look at the man and it was not difficult to discern why he was paranoid. He was injured everywhere. He walked with a limp. One of his eyes was mechanical. He didn’t think something of that sort was possible in the wizarding world but apparently, there was a facility for a duplicate eye. His face was marred with scars. Scars that had almost etched onto his skin for a long time now, judging by the state they were in currently. He must have received several dangerous curses if they could not be reversed.
His magical eye swirled around the room, ensuring he had everybody in his vision. He kept looking to his sides, his eyes and ears reacting to every noise around him. In all his time at Hogwarts, or in the magical world to be precise, he had not seen as much as a water bottle, but the man maintained a flask out of which he drank at regular intervals. He cast several spells on his food before he took a bite.
He had never heard of paranoia to this extent. He would not blame the man if his scars were what he would go by. He would be paranoid if he had been injured that much. He looked forward to his classes. Defence might be better than ever this year if his reputation was what they would go by.
The dinner was uneventful, but Dumbledore announced that tomorrow would be an important day and there would be guests at the school. He was curious to know what that was about.
It was an hour later that Harry was in the Great Hall, piling up his plate for breakfast. He noticed that there were not many students around and right now, he was not in the mood for chaos. The Great Hall of Hogwarts was always chaotic. It was one of the few places in the school that could house its entire population in a stretch and without any additional arrangements. It was bound to be noisy and nosy. Today, he didn’t want the noise and decided that he would get to breakfast early.
He was done by the time, students began to trickle in and the number increased in the hall. He left as soon as the din of the Great Hall increased. He would use the map and get to his class when it was time. He walked out of the Great Hall towards the courtyard, knowing none would be present there right now.
“Ah, Mr Potter?” It was Dumbledore. Harry smiled as the man caught up to him. “Good morning, Headmaster.” The man was his usual cheerful self. “Top of the morning to you. You seem to be taking a walk post breakfast?”
“Oh nothing of that sort, sir. I wanted some quiet and the Great Hall is not one place that would ever be quiet.” The aged man nodded as the two walked. “Seeking silence? That is what people like me would do, my boy. At my age, we look for peace, silence and solitude. But for some reason, I prefer noisy students to silence and peace. It does my old brain a lot of good.”
“The effects of being an educator I suppose.” The man whispered, frowning slightly.
“Anyway, I had a question.” Harry nodded expectantly. “Did you find time to read the book I told you about?”
“I did sir,” Harry replied. “It was… enlightening.”
“Do you think the wand is a Deathly Hallow sir? Is there any modicum of truth to the story at all? It screams a children’s tale.”
“I assumed that by now, you would know that most of the tales of that manner possess some amount of truth to them. People wouldn’t want us to know what truly took place centuries ago. There is more to the story of the Deathly Hallows than what is in the Beetle and the Bard. Stories that would do a lot of harm rather than good in the hands of the public.”
“The artefacts, are true,” Dumbledore assured. “Trust me on this matter, the Hallows are original. But what I never came to know and probably will never will, is the purpose of it. Or the story about their creation.”
“What do you know about the other two Hallows?” Harry prodded, wanting to find out how much the man knew. “The stone, I have no idea. I don’t know if the stone functions exactly as written in the book, but I always thought that the stone was the most dangerous out of all the hallows.”
“A way to call back passed souls and dwell on their presence, addicting yourself to the fact that they are just like every other living person and wishing for their presence in your daily life while they are nothing but a manifestation of passed souls. Souls that do not belong in the living realm. It would take away any form of sanity that they possess and would be fatal. The book covers the fatal powers the stone possesses wonderfully.”
It did. The book possessed a better scenario of the stone compared to the other two Hallows. The wand and cloak were tame compared to the stone as written by the book. The reason was simple. The cloak was in fact a very simple artifact. It would not seem special at first glance. Sure, the cloak might have hidden qualities that would differentiate it from the ordinary invisibility cloak, but it looked nothing special.
Same with the wand. He still needed to be clear about what the wand provided. The wand was supposed to be the ultimate weapon according to the book. The most powerful wand that was said to be unbeatable. But all Harry read about was how the wand was snatched away in the middle of the night also leading to the death of its master. Ever since, the wand has never been in the same hands for more than a little while.
The stone however was explained in an elaborate manner. The man who held the stone pined after a long-lost love and in her memory, went mad with desire. Everything he desired with the woman by his side was just not possible as she was dead. The fact that the second brother could call upon his love whenever he decided to, was a factor that displayed normalcy to the man, but the stone was eating away at his soul part by part without him realising and to such an extent that he took his life one day.
“We do not know the history of the stone. If the other two artefacts were anything to go by, it might be no different than a common stone. If thrown among other pebbles, the stone would be lost forever never to be seen.”
“As for the cloak, I think you have it, don’t you?” Dumbledore grinned. “Yes, I know it was a Hallow.” He explained to Harry’s surprise. “I had seen the cloak with your father and I was surprised with the age of the cloak. Your father was sure that the cloak was in the family for at least six hundred years as per written records in your family home. I have never known a cloak that existed for more than seventy or eighty years at the most.”
“The wand…” He paused as he turned away. “Well, that is a story for another time.”
“How is the wand working for you? Any issues?” Harry shook his head. “It is working perfectly fine sir. I haven’t found any trouble with the wand.”
“I assume that nobody knows about the wand and cloak?” Harry nodded resolutely. “It didn’t take a genius to figure out that this was not something that should be made public knowledge sir.”
“A wise decision,” Dumbledore muttered. “I would keep it that way, Harry. One hint of the items you possess and the magnitude of backlash would be astronomical.”
“This is where we must part,” Dumbledore announced as they reached the end of their path.
“I will see you tonight at the feast.” Harry watched the man leave towards his office and he chose to step outside the castle for some time.
“Where will I find the stone?” Harry muttered as he buried his hands in his pockets. “Hello? Are you there?” Harry questioned himself and sighed.
“I would appreciate something to help me right now. Where do I find a damn stone out of every other damn stone in the world?” He grew frustrated when he heard no response, he was incensed.
“You were quick enough to intervene when the cloak and wand came in contact and by mistake and yet when I want something out of you, no sound. There are three of you. At least one of you could talk to me when I need you guys.” He raged.
When the fire broke out in his room as the wand and cloak met, Harry froze on the spot not doing anything about the fire. Yes, the fire didn’t harm Harry, but he knew that because of the voice that intervened that day. One of the three brothers, he didn’t know which, spoke to him.
‘Never let any third person ever join the Hallows. Not two, but especially not all the three. Never let anybody unify the Hallows.’ He didn’t hear the voice once again. Nothing apart from a warning to never unify the Hallows.
The book defines the person who if unified the Hallows, becomes the Master of Death. What the book meant by being the Master of Death, he didn’t know. Was this why he was asked not to unify the Hallows? What does being this Master of Death entail?
Now he does not know when they will talk again, but when they do, he had a select few questions that need answering. Harry pulled out the Marauder’s Map open to check where his classes were and trudged back towards the castle.
BREAK—-
He took his seat at the end of the classroom, as Professor Flitwick entered the room, his usual cheerful self on full display. They were sharing the class with other Ravenclaws and they had occupied one side of the class with the Gryffindors on the other.
“The first day of the new academic year,” Flitwick spoke as he stood in front of his students. “This year, you will be getting into the advanced side of charms. You will be sitting your OWL’s next year. A very important phase of your future. Going forward, you will be learning charms that will be a necessity in your everyday life. To make, break, protect, destroy and much more.”
“Protego.” The professor flicked his wand towards the board as said word appeared in bold.
“The shield charm.” The professor got down from the platform and began walking in between the students. “The most basic form of shielding yourself from spells. Very simple, very effective.”
The man flicked his wand and a translucent blue wall materialized ahead of him.
“A flick upwards with your wand as you speak the incantation, but this is where it gets interesting.” He looked around. “Your incantation alone will yield you nothing. You can flick your wand till dawn and you will not have anything close to the shield if you are out of focus.”
“Yes. Focus is very important when it comes to any form of magic, but focus is a necessity for the advanced application of magic. Without proper concentration, there will be no stopping the spells you try to defend with the shield charm.”
“A shield charm can be a wall of protection or wet paper. Your spell would bounce and wither away harmless or will zip right through the shield and strike you, giving you an injury or maybe, kill you.”
The entire class was listening with rapt attention as the man went about casting a shield in front of him once again.
“Mr Boot? Ms Patil? Ms Granger?” The three students stood up. “I want you three to step ahead and cast a disarming charm.”
The two Ravenclaws and Hermione stepped away from their seats with their wands and stood facing Flitwick. “On the count of three…” The professor said and counted down to three.
“Expelliarmus!” The three cast the disarming charm all at once only for it to splash harmlessly against the translucent shield in front of the Professor.
“Go again.” The professor instructed and the three cast the spell again. This time he waited for the spells to near him and just as he was about to be hit, he raised a shield silently and the class watched as the spell splashed against the shield harmlessly.
“With proper concentration, the Protego will help us in the long run.” Flitwick dismissed the students back to their seats as he continued. “Most spells can be defended with the help of a protego.”
“But not all spells, right Professor?” Padma Patil questioned. The jovial man turned grim as he heard the question. He regarded the young woman seriously and looked around the class who were curious about his answer.
“You would be right, Ms Patil.” Flitwick returned. “There are a lot of spells that can be blocked with a protego, but there are a select few spells that cannot be defended with a basic shield charm. The unforgivables being the major example. Some curses are created in a way that can never be shielded without the help of a physical manifestation. Use any shield of solid material and every spell can be intercepted. But that is where the Protego is a better choice for most of the spells.” He explained.
“Conjuration of a solid is a very tasking process and not something that is as simple as using a simple shield. So the best bet would be to use protego every time you want to defend yourself from spells that you are able to recognise. There is another option though.”
Flitwick craned his neck and he caught Harry seemingly lost, staring out into space.
“Mr Potter?” When Harry didn’t respond, the diminutive Professor walked up to Harry’s seat and tapped the young man on his shoulder shocking the young man who jerked slightly.
Harry didn’t know when he drained out the lesson as he was deep in thought about the Hallows when Professor Flitwick caught him by surprise.
“You seem to be lost, Potter,” Flitwick questioned, his eyes twinkling in amusement.
“Sorry, Professor. I had something gnawing at my mind and I got carried away.” Harry apologized as he stood up. “That won’t do, Mr Potter.” Flitwick shook his head.
“Come on.” He gestured for Harry to follow him to the centre of the classroom, aware that every eye was on his currently.
“If I have managed to bore you into losing concentration and thinking about something apart from charms in my class, it means two things. One, you are familiar with the concept and two, you simply do not care.”
Flitwick shrugged. “I certainly hope it is not the latter.” Harry quickly denied the man’s words.
“Of course not, Professor. It is not that I don’t care. I simply wandered off.”
“Well, in that case, it is supposed to be the first option, is it not, Mr Potter?”
“What more do you know of the shield charm?” Harry looked around uncomfortably before letting out a deep sigh of frustration.
“The protego is a basic shield charm at best. Shielding known spells, yes. But it is of no use against spells like the unforgivables.” Harry explained. “Professor Flitwick was right. We can use the protego to shield ourselves effortlessly, but again, the stipulation remains the same. That is when we know the curse thrown at us. But what the Professor didn’t tell us and rightfully so, is that the shield charm is and will always be tertiary action. A shielding charm, especially the basic one like the protego will always be used as a third resort.”
“Go on.” Flitwick waved at Harry, excitement visible on his face. “Summoning charm and banishing charm. ‘Accio’ and ‘Depulso’.” Harry continued.
“There will always be something that you can make use of in a fight. A strewn rock. Maybe an uprooted tree. Maybe a bird or an animal. I guess you understand where I am going with this.”
“The summoning and banishing charm are the most simple and yet extremely effective way of defending oneself. But it is not something that will be taught because most of you will fail.” That was met with outrage from the rest of the class. The Ravenclaws were furious that he could insinuate something about their intellect and the Gryffindors were furious as it was a direct dig at their ego.
“Silence!” Professor Flitwick snapped, resulting in the class settling down. “Mr Potter. Maybe you can come up with a better explanation rather than offending your classmates.” Flitwick sighed in exasperation.
“Of course, Professor.” Harry shrugged. “What I mean by the statement is not a question of any of your abilities. The summoning charm and banishing charm are very easy and less tiring, but they are precise. If cast with more power than necessary, the summoning charm instead of intercepting the spell would crash into you, knocking you out or killing you. If the summoning charm fails, you are defenceless. In a fight, it's all over once you are defenceless.”
“So what do you expect us to do? Run away?” Terry Boot scoffed, as his friends broke into laughter joined by Harry’s housemates.
“Yes.” The laughing stopped and the students stared at Harry disbelievingly. “What?” Boot croaked.
“Yes. Run away. Fly away. Apparate away. Do whatever you want to avoid the spell hitting you. Never let a spell hit you. If you do so, you are safe. If you are safe, you can come back with a counter. If not, there are spells that would render every shield useless.”
“Dodge. Dodging spells is the primary form of defence that is superior to every other shield. The shields must be used once tired. If not, I would always recommend dodging.”
“Wonderful.” Professor Flitwick clapped as the class stared at the two. “That was well put, Mr Potter. It was better than what I could have come up with.” Harry scratched the back of his head awkwardly as he nodded, a small smile on his face.
“That’s fifty points for Gryffindor, Mr Potter. Please take your seat and do try to pay attention next time, will you?” Harry took a seat and nodded.
“Mr Potter is right. Shields can get you only so far in a fight or a duel. We are always supposed to dodge first, block second and shield after that and only when absolutely necessary. You are supposed to be energetic to survive. Dodging tires you, but shielding depletes your magical reserves. Added to the fatigue of fighting for a long duel, you are bound to slip up and provide an opening to the opponent, which would be decisive.”
“Flashy spells and powerful spells are not everything for a witch or a wizard. There is more to life than showmanship. Let this be a lesson to every one of you.”
“Off you go then.” Flitwick clapped as the students stood up. “Make sure that you make a list of all the shield spells that you manage to find and their wand movements along with it. That will be your assignment.”
“Stay back, Potter.” Harry did as he was told to do and stayed back in his seat, watching as the rest of the class walked out. “That was insightful, Mr Potter.” The professor approached Harry, smiling at him.
“You should look for a career in teaching, Mr Potter. You would do very well in the field. The students would love to learn from a keen mind such as yours. That was very well put, if I have to say so.”
“Thank you, Professor.” Harry smiled. “I don’t think that I would be able to teach though. I have way less patience when compared to you people and I would blow off the gasket at the first sign of trouble the students would brew. You and I both know that there is more to being a teacher than just teaching.”
“True, true.” Flitwick agreed. “It was a good class today, Mr Potter. I will see you in the next.”
Harry was about to exit the classroom when he remembered the conversation with Ginny about Luna.
“There was something I wanted to talk to you about, Professor.” Harry cut in as Flitwick was about to move back into his office. “It is about Luna Lovegood.”
The man walked back to Harry, his face etched into an expression of concern.
“What about Ms Lovegood?”
“Have you received any complaints from her, Professor?” The man shook his head.
“It was Ginny Weasley who brought it to my attention on the train today. Do you know that your house is troubling Ms Lovegood, Professor?”
“That is a very serious accusation to make, Mr Potter,” Flitwick spoke, his voice stoic. “I am aware that the students are less than friendly while speaking to young Ms Lovegood, but there is nothing more than that. Ms Lovegood has that way with words that are just not understood by the rest of the students and I admit that they do make fun of her, but that is all there is to it. Children’s squabble.”
“I wouldn’t have cared if that was it, Professor. People are shallow, most of the time. They tend to react harshly to people who don't blend in. I can bet my life on it when it comes to this, Professor. Luna is being bullied. You can ignore it, but I am pretty sure that a similar thought would have passed through your head. Luna is not having it easy with her housemates, Professor. She does not speak up and until asked, I don’t think she will ever speak up.”
Harry nodded at the diminutive man and left the classroom hoping he had done the right thing. Luna would never speak out and she would not be avoiding trouble anytime soon if she remained silent all the while. Harry hoped Professor Flitwick would do something about it.
BREAK—------
“Ok. I would ask all of you to settle down.” Dumbledore announced as the students gathered around in the Great Hall. “I know you have been eager to meet the guests I spoke of and I think it is time.”
“Students, Hogwarts is proud to play the hosts for the legendary Tri-Wizard Tournament.” Excited chattering broke out around the Great Hall as the announcement was made public.
“Tri-Wizard Tournament?” Harry muttered. He had chosen to sit alone at the far end of the Gryffindor table and nobody was seated around him.
“We will be playing hosts to the students of the Durmstrang Academy and the Beaubaxtons Academy for the rest of the year. The students along with their institutional Head would be staying with us and I would want you to make them feel comfortable.”
The doors of the Great Hall were opened and Harry observed a group of students donned in light blue robes being led forward by a gigantic woman. The woman had to be part giant, Harry thought. She had to be. There was no way she was normal by any explanation.
The newly arrived students made their way towards the Ravenclaw table and took up seats and their Head representative stepped up to the head table. Harry watched as Dumbledore took the woman’s hand in his and placed a kiss on her knuckles in greeting. He watched as the two engaged in a polite conversation as Dumbledore led her into her seat.
A few moments later, another group of students entered the Great Hall. These students were contrasting to the previous group that arrived. Fur cloaks and fur hats with blood-red robes certainly stood out over the light blue.
Harry was once again bombarded with excited mutterings. He was sure that he heard a few squeals of excitement as well from the students of Hogwarts. He craned his neck to look at what caused the reaction and it was then that he noticed Viktor Krum, the Quidditch star.
‘Huh. He is a student?’ Harry was surprised that the boy was no older than seventeen or eighteen when he read about him in the newspaper, but he had no idea that he was still a school student. He watched the young man who sat next to Draco Malfoy who looked like he was about to speak something when Dumbledore interrupted.
“On the eve of Halloween, the champions of the Tri-Wizard tournament, one from each school would be chosen by an impartial judge. The judge would be choosing the candidates from their abilities and abilities alone. No amount of influence would help you here. Not your status and certainly not us professors. You are judged worthy, you will be chosen.”
“Eternal glory…” Dumbledore paused as the entire Great Hall seemed to be hanging on to his every word. “Is what awaits the chosen champions. A name in the history books.”
“A word of caution.” He cut in as the students grew excited at the prospect of glory. “The Tri-Wizard Tournament was an event that has been around for centuries, but there is a reason why it was scrapped two hundred years ago. The tasks that accompany the path of the champions are not ones to be considered lightly. In search of eternal glory, young men and women have lost their lives for nothing. There have been instances where all the champions were killed in the first task of the tournament.”
“I urge caution. Anybody willing to enter must remember that this tournament is not something worth dying for. The tasks are designed to be safe, but certain criteria must be met to make them challenging. There is only little help that can be provided and those are only before and after the task. There will be no external help during the participation of the task. You are on your own. Once again, I urge all of you to exercise caution.”
He clapped his hands and Filch entered the Great Hall from the back of the Head table carrying something big in his hands covered with a cloth, placing it on a stand that Dumbledore conjured.
“The Goblet of Fire.” He unveiled a shining silver goblet, blazing with blue light. “The representation of the eternal glory that the champions would be fighting for. The impartial judge that would select three champions of its choice. Starting from daybreak, you can start putting your names into the Goblet for the selection. The choice would be made on Halloween and the tournament would gear up.”
“Once again, I would like you to consider my word of caution instead of being blinded by the name or fame or the thousand galleons price money that would be accompanying the winner of the competition. Nothing is worth losing your life prematurely and out of pure foolishness.”
Harry was certain that Dumbledore was not okay with the event. He was extensively asking students to stay away from it in a hundred ways possible, but he didn’t think many would be deterred by it. A thousand galleons was a hefty sum not to mention the added factor of eternal glory.
‘Eternal glory?’ He could be given a hundred more chances and a hundred more lessons with Binns and he would never come up with one name of a former Tri Wizard Champion.
If things don’t go south, Harry will look forward to a wonderful year ahead, but for some reason, he could not shake away the weird feeling as he laid his eyes on the Goblet.
BREAK—---
She didn’t know why the legendary wizard was so against the participation of the students in the Triwizard Tournament. She had never expected the tournament to come around like it did. They had been scraped for more than two centuries at the least. Out of the blue, her father came home and informed her that the British, French and Bulgarian ministries had congregated and decided to bring back the legendary tournament.
She had not thought twice and had immediately declared that she would enter the tournament. Fleur Delacour found this the perfect opportunity to show what she was made of. Her parents were unhappy with her decision. Her father’s reasoning had been sound. She need not prove anything to anybody. He and her mother knew very well what Fleur was capable of doing. But Fleur could not ignore the jabs and comments made towards her, her character, and her family by the rest of her classmates.
Fleur sighed as she felt the stare of the boys around her. She shook her head in disgust and frustration as glazed eyes never left her vicinity. She was used to being subjected to lustful stares from the male population for years now and though she had become used to it, she would always curse them for staring. All they needed was a little composure, but it was too much to ask.
And then there was the female population. Veela were the epitome of beauty. They were inhumanely beautiful adding to the factor of their allure. The already beautiful veela becomes irresistible for the viewer when their innate veela allure affects them making them incoherent around them.
There have been stories and instances where the veela misused her charm and beauty, taking advantage of the enthralled men which has always been a reason for the anger of the community. What this community didn’t want to admit is that not all of veela were like that. Some just asked to be let alone and live their life, but that was too much to expect. They cannot blame their husbands and boyfriends for being weak-willed and unable to control themselves so they blame the veela and their allure.
Her mother had prepared her for the treatment that she would invariably be subjected to in her schooling years at Beauxbatons. Fleur tried very hard for things to be different. She tried very hard to be accepted by her classmates but in the end, it didn't change much.
She would be going out of Beaubaxtons by the end of the year and suffice it to say, she wanted to finish her schooling on her terms. Being chosen for the Tri-Wizard Tournament would be a fitting reply to all those students who accused her of using her allure to get far. The Goblet of Fire was supposed to be impartial. Her selection here would be a statement to her peers that she was picked fair and square.
The only downside of the competition was that she had to come to England to participate for an entire year. Staying away from her family for an entire year was not something she was used to. She would go back to her house during the Yule, but she was told that it would not be possible this year as there would be a social event according to Madame Maxine. So she would have to spend a year away from Gabby, her father and her mother.
The school was not how she envisioned the place to be. The castle was nice enough, but the surroundings were a bit gloomy for Fleur’s liking. The castle was very big. Bigger than Beaubaxtons, but to Fleur, the castle just didn’t hold the same charm as her school.
The Great Hall as they called it was a brilliant creation of magic. The enchanted ceiling above their heads made it special. Fleur would have loved to learn about the marvellous creation and all that entailed with the creation of a masterpiece. She had sat at the table that belonged to the House the famous Rowena Ravenclaw belonged to. She would have paid to see the ceiling being created and learn the magic that made it. She had heard that the ceiling depicts the sky outside. Even the slightest of changes in the weather would be picked up by the ceiling and displayed accordingly. Fleur was right when she thought that something like that could not be recreated as easily.
The Hogwarts management had made sure that there would be a variety of French dishes for the Beaubaxtons delegation and it was the same for the Durmstrang delegation as well. Fleur was grateful for that. She didn’t know how she would have coped if everything she was used to was being denied all at once.
The Headmaster of Hogwarts stood up once more and caught the attention of the hall.
“I won’t take long.” Dumbledore cut in smiling. “We have a meeting organized for planning the competition and we will take our leave. Madam Maxine and Professor Karkaroff have informed me that you would be residing in your carriage and ship respectively. Please finish your dinners and get back to your rooms.”
“From tomorrow you will be attending classes with the rest of the Hogwarts students. Your Heads will be giving you the required timetable. Have a good night.” Dumbledore bowed once and stepped down from the Head table followed by the rest of the Professors.
The professors were about to exit the Great Hall when Fleur observed the group pause at the far end of the table where the students wore red, Gryffindors if she remembered properly.
“Why are you sitting all by yourself, Mr Potter?” Dumbledore questioned as the hall observed in silence.
“P…Potter?” The Headmaster of Durmstrang stuttered, his eyes widening considerably at the young man sitting at the end of the table. Fleur craned her neck slightly to get a good look at the infamous Harry Potter.
The legend of Harry Potter and his victory over the Dark Lord was famous back in France as well. A baby besting the monster who terrorized an entire country was bound to be a household tale. Fleur had her doubts as she grew up. There was no way that a baby bested the Dark Lord when a stalwart like Albus Dumbledore, a man whom the entire world regarded as the most powerful wizard to ever live could not do it.
“Yes, yes, Karkaroff.” Alastor Moody snarked from behind the three Heads of the schools. “You know him, don’t you? The one that offed your master.”
“Alastor!” Dumbledore warned a tired sigh leaving him. “I said what I said. I don’t lie, Albus. Not when it comes to bastards like him.” Karkaroff was red in his face, his anger palpable but Dumbledore cut in.
“That is enough Alastor.” The man conceded with a nod, though his weird magical eye zoomed in on the Durmstrang head.
“Surely you have Messers Weasley or Miss Johnson or Miss Bell or Miss Spinnet for company.”
Harry nodded. “It’s fine sir. I chose to sit here as I was the last to arrive. Didn't want to cause a disturbance.”
“Very well.” The man smiled. “I hope you are looking forward to the tournament?” Harry nodded.
“It seems…” Harry trailed off before shrugging. “Interesting?”
The aged Headmaster couldn’t help but laugh. “I share the same sentiment when it comes to this, my boy. I cannot for the life of me figure out why they planned for this.”
“Are you thinking of entering?” Harry snorted. “No offence, Professor, but I am certainly in no need of eternal glory or the thousand galleons that accompany winning this tournament. I would rather heed your words and gladly remain a spectator.”
“Besides, I am sure that the Goblet can come up with a better option.” He concluded.
“Nonsense, my boy. Modesty is a wonderful trait to possess, but selling yourself short is just not acceptable for an educator like me. If you do decide to enter, I would bet my entire collection of lemon drops that you would be the pick.”
“Surely not, Albus.” Madame Maxine piped up from next to the man. “The boy is no older than fourteen or fifteen from what I know. You would bet against many of your start pupils from the upper years on this boy here.”
Dumbledore smiled cryptically, choosing to ignore the Frenchwoman. “One day. One day you will understand why my decision was my decision.” He shrugged.
“See you around, Mr Potter.” Dumbledore nodded as he walked away with the rest of the staff.
Harry chuckled as he shook his head at the conversation and looked down at his plate to take a bite when he belatedly realised the silence that had settled around him. He looked up to see every single person in the Great Hall staring at him.
“Shit!” He swore as he looked away. He had sat away for this very reason. He knew that anybody taking his name was bound to get attention from the rest of the newcomers. He didn’t want that.
Fleur observed as the boy withdrew into himself immediately as soon as he felt the eye of the entire student population. She found it hard to believe that a fourteen-year-old despite him being the boy who lived would be a better bet than seventh-year students who were much more knowledgeable and aware of more magic than the rest.
Fleur ignored the Hall and went back to her dish. It was not her place to think about anything else other than the competition. She would be back in France in ten months at the most and that was all she was looking forward to.
BREAK—---
“My name is Alastor Moody.” The ex-auror walked into the class out of nowhere taking the students by surprise. “Ex-auror. I am here because Dumbledore asked me to. End of discussion.”
Moody clunked his way up to the board and picked up a piece of chalk. ‘Unforgivables’, he wrote on the board. The class broke into excited whispers at the topic that was due to be discussed.
“Unforgivables. What can you tell me about that? Granger?” Moody called out when a bushy-haired witch raised her hand in desperation.
Fleur had heard about the man. In truth, she had it on good authority that almost everybody present in the room was aware of the man and his reputation. Fleur was waiting eagerly for the Defence lessons wanting to know what the man would be teaching and she was not disappointed. The unforgivables were not something that would be discussed or taught in school due to the nature of using the curse and the mental state it requires.
“The unforgivables, are the vilest curses to be in existence. These curses are said to be some of the most powerful curses in use and their usage is guaranteed a prison sentence.”
“Yes.” Moody nodded. “The use of an Unforgivable is a direct ticket to Azkaban for life. Anybody want to tell me why?” The man looked around, his magical eye whirring in his socket.
“What about the seventh year from the French school? Anybody?” When he received no answer he swore under his breath. “I don’t know why I let myself be talked into teaching a bunch of useless imbeciles.”
Moody reached into his robe pulled out a flask and chugged down a sip of whatever it was he possessed. “So you want to tell me that I am out here, talking about curses that are capable of ending one's life in the blink of an eye and you have no knowledge of it?”
“How do you people aspire to become an auror or a hit wizard with this mediocre knowledge?” He growled as he regarded the classroom.
“Pampered little shits. Why would you know about these things?” He grumbled as he turned back to the board.
“Intent.” Moody’s head jerked in the direction of the voice. “Speak up!” He snapped as he stared at the back of the room.
“Intent is what makes these curses a direct agent to a lifelong trip to Azkaban,” Harry spoke up from the back of the class.
Moody stared at the boy, his magical eye zooming in on the young man. “Explain.”
“Your intention is what matters casting the Unforgivables,” Harry explained. “You are supposed to mean it. Without meaning, none of the Unforgivables would be effective. You can use the killing curse right now and without mustering proper hate for the person ahead of you, it is impossible to cast the spell. You must truly hate the person or any life form to an immeasurable extent to cast the killing curse.”
“The same is true for the torture curse. Hate is a necessity to the concept of the Unforgivables. You cannot hate, and you will never be able to cast an unforgivable despite your hard work and repeated attempts only to be met with failure and nothing more.”
“There are a number of spells that can kill a witch or wizard. Spells that kill in ways that would lead to nightmares. But all those spells can be cast with sufficient practice and understanding. The same cannot be said for the Unforgivables. That is why you are chucked into Azkaban if found out that you have managed to cast the curse successfully. You are displaying all the signs of a psychopath.”
Moody and the rest of the class listened to Harry finish his explanation. When Potter finished, Moody burst into laughter.
“Excellent. Excellent, Potter.” Moody smirked. “Couldn’t have worded it better myself.”
Fleur was impressed. She was not an expert on the subject, but she had no extensive knowledge of some of the darker aspects of the subject. The Unforgivables are rarely well-explained in any school-level books. The in-depth knowledge of the Unforgivables is something that is available in Law Enforcement back in France. The only people who were supposed to receive in-depth knowledge of the Unforgivables were the witches and wizards training to be Aurors, hit wizards or the Unspeakables.
“The Unforgivables are the definition of intent-based magic. If you intend to hate a man enough to kill him, you can cast the killing curse. If you want to torture the man within an inch of his life, you can cast the torture curse. The Imperius curse is not the same as the killing and torture curse. And yet, it is still considered one of the Unforgivables. The reason being the nature of the Imperious.”
Moody conjured a small spider on top of his desk and enlarged it so that it would be visible. He picked up the spider and spared a glance at the rest of the class.
“Crucio!” He roared and the class observed a red beam strike the spider. At once, the legs of the spider bent in upon itself. It rolled around and then began to twitch horribly. There was no sound to be heard, but the spider twitching and rolling continuously in excruciating pain was visible to the naked eye.
Fleur couldn’t help but feel queasy in her stomach. She tried very hard to stay strong, but watching a small insect writhe in pain was too much for her to take. She would have asked the man to stop but somebody else beat her to it.
“Stop…! Stop!” A bushy-haired girl screamed as Moddy broke the curse and regarded the girl. She was not looking at the Professor, but at a young man sitting at the table next to her who had stiffened in his seat, his face ashen and his fists clenched tightly.
“What’s that?” Moody questioned, his magical eye flicking between the girl and the boy.
“Can’t you see? Whatever you are doing is troubling him.” The man’s eyes settled on the youngster. “Neville Longbottom right?” The boy nodded shakily, his eyes fixed on the table.
“Yes…Yes…Sorry about that lad.” He apologized as he stepped in front of Longbottom. “You need some time to compose yourself? You can step out. It’s fine.”
Neville shook his head. “I…I will be fine.” Moody paused for a moment before nodding satisfactorily. “Good. Good.”
“Constant vigilance!” He snapped making the students in his vicinity jump slightly.
“The cruciatus curse is a very dangerous curse, but for all its brutality, it is a direct curse. You know that you will be tortured. Same with the killing curse. You know that you will die if the curse hits you.”
He held up the spider and trained his wand on it. “Avada Kedavra!” The class waited with bated breath as a flash of green impacted against the spider which fell down unmoving.
“Instant death. There are no shields to defend against them and there are no known ways to fight it head on. None have managed to fight the killing curse. None, but one. He is here, sitting in this room among us.” The man’s eyes trailed towards Harry who was still standing.
Moody frowned in confusion. “Were you standing all the while, Potter?” The young man nodded as the class now was focused on the boy who lived.
“I answered your question, Professor.” He replied. “Okay.” Moody hummed. “What about it? You want points or something?” The class burst into laughter at that as the man grinned. Fleur chuckled along with the rest of the class. ‘He wants points?’ Her thoughts reverted back to the previous night when Albus Dumbledore spoke about the boy. She wondered again just what he saw in the boy to be that confident while here he was, asking for points for getting a question right.
“No. Not points.” He raised his tone so that he would be heard above the laughter. “I want an apology though.”
That silences the class. The students who were laughing a moment ago stared at him incredulously. “I am sorry?” Moody growled as he narrowed his eyes.
“You called me a pampered little shit.” He shook his head. “I didn’t like that. I am not pampered, Professor Moody, and I certainly don’t like to be addressed as one in front of a number of people and take a hit to the name I carry. You will owe me an apology.”
“And what if I say no?” The man challenged, as he took a swig out of his hip flask.
Potter grinned. “Do you know who I am, Mr Moody?” He hopped out of his seat and walked up to the man, the grin not leaving his face. “I am the boy who lived, yes. But don’t forget what name I carry.”
“If you want to play the hard game, we can, Mr Moody. You are more than welcome to do so.”
“But rest assured, there is no chance of me letting this matter rest. So, on that note, I will leave you to your class, Mr Moody. You know where to find me.” Harry casually walked back to his seat, picked up his things and left the room leaving behind a stunned classroom in his wake.
Fleur couldn’t believe what she watched. She had not expected the young man to turn the tables on the ex auror effortlessly and walk away. She had to admit that she was intrigued by what was going to happen going forward. She had to admit that her opinion regarding Harry Potter was changing faster than a chameleon changes colour. She looked forward to where today’s argument between Potter and the Professor would lead to.
TBC—-----
