Unforgivables

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Harry filed into the classroom with the others, sliding into a seat near the back. Daphne, Tracey, Pansy, and Hermione took spots around him, their bags hitting the floor in soft thuds. Neville, Draco, Blaise, and Theo filled the surrounding desks. The Gryffindors and Slytherins were scattered loosely, most students still in their post-lunch haze, though a few—like Hermione—already had their books open.

The room itself was dimmer than usual, the magical torches flickering unevenly against the stone walls. Moody—or rather, Barty Crouch Jr. in disguise—was standing at the front of the classroom, leaning heavily on his staff. His magical eye spun wildly in its socket, darting from student to student as if trying to read their thoughts.

Harry noticed the spinning magical eye pause unnervingly long on Draco and Theodore before shifting its focus to him. Its scrutiny making Draco shift in his seat. Theodore, on the other hand, remained stone-faced, but Harry could tell by the slight twitch in his fingers that he was resisting the urge to hex something.

"Seems like the dear professor 'Moody' has a particular dislike for Death Eater kids enjoying a cushy life," Nigel commented dryly in Harry's mind.

Harry resisted the urge to react outwardly. Instead, he allowed a faint smirk to tug at the corner of his lips. "Groundbreaking observation, Nigel," he replied mentally, his tone sharp with sarcasm. "Bellatrix already told me Crouch hates Lucius and his little circle even more than she does."

Nigel gave a mock sigh. "Fine, then. I'll save my breath next time."

Harry ignored him, keeping his attention on the fake Moody, who had finally stopped scanning the room and begun pacing heavily at the front of the classroom. Each step of his wooden leg echoed loudly against the stone floor. The class was quiet, most students wary of the man's intimidating presence.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" The man suddenly barked, his voice echoing across the stone walls of the classroom. Several students jumped in their seats, startled, despite having heard the same shout from the real Moody last year. A few even knocked their ink bottles over in the process.

Harry had to give Crouch Jr. credit—the man knew how to act the part. Every detail, from the aggressive pacing to the scarred expression, was right on point. Even the exaggerated paranoia came across as authentic.

"Thought some of you would've learned by now," Moody continued in a gravelly tone, glaring around the room. His magical eye spun erratically while his real one stayed locked on the students in front of him. "But judging by how easy it was to catch half of you off guard, it looks like I went too soft on you last year."

Daphne leaned slightly toward Harry, whispering, "Soft? Is he joking? He put half the class through nightmares with those Boggarts."

Harry didn't respond, only smirking faintly. Daphne wasn't wrong. The real Moody had introduced them to curses, dark creatures, and dueling practice—all useful, if borderline traumatic, for most students.

Moody slammed his staff onto the ground, silencing the quiet mutters spreading through the class. "This year, things will be different. We'll be covering the darkest curses wizards have ever known. Curses so twisted they can break a person in more ways than one."

Across the room, Hermione stiffened. Neville shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers gripping the edge of the desk a little too tightly. Most of the Gryffindors were uneasy.

"Last year was a warm-up," Moody continued, taking slow steps across the front of the room. "I didn't get to start with you from the beginning, but now I have a full year to make sure you leave this classroom knowing what real danger looks like."

Tracey nudged Harry under the table, raising an eyebrow. "He's really going all out, huh?"

Harry gave a barely perceptible nod, keeping his eyes on Moody. He wasn't particularly impressed by the theatrics, but he knew what Crouch Jr. was doing. Instilling fear was the first step in making students not question him—and if Crouch wanted to pull off his part convincingly, he would need to sell that image of the unyielding, paranoid Auror.

Without warning, Moody waved his wand, causing the door to slam shut behind them with a resounding thud. Several students jumped again, startled.

"So—straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms," Moody growled, pacing at the front of the classroom. His wooden leg thudded against the stone floor with each step, echoing off the walls. "Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then."

He paused, sweeping his mismatched eyes across the room. His magical one locked briefly on Draco before flicking back to Lavender, who was unsuccessfully trying to hide a folded piece of parchment under her desk. Moody's lip curled. "But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves. He reckons you can cope, and I say the sooner you know what you're up against, the better."

Lavender jumped slightly as Moody's gaze stayed on her, his magical eye swiveling to bore right through the wooden desk. "Put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking."

She blushed furiously, shoving the parchment into her bag. Parvati, sitting beside her, looked away, pretending she hadn't been part of it.

"So..." Moody continued as though nothing had happened. "Do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"

A few hands rose tentatively, including Hermione's and Ron's. Moody pointed at Ron, though his magical eye remained on Lavender for another few seconds, just long enough to make her squirm.

"Er," Ron started, sounding unsure. "My dad told me about one... Is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?"

"Ah, yes," said Moody, sounding faintly approving. "Your father would know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time."

He bent down, opened a drawer in his desk, and pulled out a glass jar filled with three large black spiders. The creatures skittered nervously against the glass as Moody reached in and plucked one out, holding it between his thick fingers for the class to see. Ron, seated near the front, visibly flinched. Harry recalled hearing Ron's deep-seated fear of spiders from Fred and George one time.

Moody pointed his wand at the spider. "Imperio!"

The class watched, fascinated, as the spider suddenly stiffened, then leapt into the air, dangling from a thin strand of silk. It swung back and forth like a puppet, its legs sticking out stiffly in all directions. Then, as if controlled by invisible strings, it performed a neat backflip, snapped the silk, and landed on the desk, where it started cartwheeling wildly.

Several students laughed, unable to help themselves, as the spider continued its absurd dance. Even Parvati, who had been nervously watching Moody's every move, giggled quietly.

"Think it's funny, do you?" Moody growled, his voice suddenly sharp. The laughter stopped at once. "You wouldn't like it, would you, if I did it to you?"

Silence fell over the room. Moody's eye, the normal one, gleamed with a hard light, as if daring someone to make another sound.

"Total control," Moody said quietly, watching as the spider rolled itself into a ball and tumbled across the desk. "I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats..." His voice was calm, almost conversational, but the words sent a shiver through the room. Ron, who was closest to the desk, gave an involuntary shudder.

"Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse," Moody continued, his tone grim. "Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will."

Harry sat motionless, watching Moody carefully. He knew exactly what the man was talking about—he had the name of those Death Eaters carved in his notebook.

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