DADA

Harry entered the classroom without stopping and didn't pay attention to all of his gawkers.

'To be fair, it must have been at least a month since I last attended any class,' he thought and smiled at his friends.

Neville and Hermione were as surprised—if not more—as the rest of their housemates at Harry's attendance.

With swift strides, Harry reached the desk next to his favourite couple and took a seat, slumping into the chair with practiced ease.

Harry let out a soft sigh as he looked around.

'It's really been ages since I'd last sat in one of these classrooms… Surrounded by textbooks and classmates. Living like that must be quite nice… peaceful.'

The buzz of hushed conversation ebbed away as Professor Moody cleared his throat at the front of the room.

His real eye locked onto Harry's with a ferocious intensity. The other one was scanning the class, always in motion.

"All right," Moody barked, "put those books away. We'll do a thorough review of what we've covered this year—practical work only."

Chairs scraped against the floor, and students hurried to stow away battered textbooks, muttering cheerfully for a much-needed break from theory.

With exams approaching, everyone felt they had pored over enough ancient, dry texts to last several lifetimes.

Obviously, Hermione didn't hold the same opinion as the majority and was about to raise her hand, but a quick whisper from Neville stopped her.

Somehow, her lips quirked up in a tiny smile.

'Just what did Nev tell her?' Harry wondered with amusement.

His eyes snapped back to the professor, who had also caught the exchange. Harry thought he saw a fleeting smile cross the man's face, but it happened too quickly to be certain.

Moody wasted no time after that.

He began by reminding them of several basic Defence spells they had learnt at the start of the year—ones meant to shield or disorientate an opponent.

One by one, he picked students to demonstrate. Eventually, his magical eye swivelled to Harry.

"Potter," Moody said gruffly, "on your feet. Show us a proper Disarming Charm."

Harry stood with obvious resignation and flicked his wand almost lazily, but the movement was precise. He focused, feeling the flow of magic swirl through his arm like a gentle current, meeting no resistance.

Red light streaked towards the target dummy Moody had conjured, sending the practice wand whirling through the air.

"Next, the Shield Charm."

Again, Harry could have sighed but raised his wand.

A shimmering barrier formed between him and Moody, the edges pulsing with faint white light that Harry felt like a gentle hum in the back of his mind; it gave off a sense of steadfast protection.

Moody nodded brusquely. "Passable," he said, though everyone knew that any shield that Harry conjured would be leagues above passable.

"Everyone, pair up. Disarm and shield in tandem. Let's see if you've actually learnt something from my class and the Tri-School exchange."

The class bustled into action.

Wands swished, and sparks flew, some more controlled than others.

Harry noticed instantly when a cast went astray.

He saw a swirl of magic sputter around Seamus's wand tip and a flicker oddly around Dean's forearm.

He almost instinctively knew the reason for each wobble—the angle of the wand, the fleeting thought of doubt, or the droop in their stance.

Every cast left a distinct magical resonance in the air, so Harry could observe.

Hermione's spells were near flawless, which surprised Harry.

He couldn't comprehend how everyone aside from him could reach that level of perfection without feeling and seeing magic as he did.

Her wand work was crisp, and her incantations were clear. Only when Moody introduced a more complex Defensive Curse did she falter momentarily, readjusting her footing and incantation on the second try.

Neville, who had grown into a young man over the year, surprised Harry with his near-perfect Shield Charms, though he occasionally overextended the movement when casting nonverbally and let his stance slip.

Before long, Moody called time. "Not bad," he addressed the class, surveying them with both eyes. "Some of you still act as though you're nailed to the spot when you cast, though. Constant vigilance, remember?"

Students began gathering their belongings amid a shuffle of parchment and quills.

Moody's gruff voice then called out, "Potter, a word."

Ignoring the curious glances from his classmates and the note of concern in Hermione's eyes, Harry made his way to the front. Moody lowered his voice, though it was hardly subtle.

"I've got a few final sessions with seventh-years this week—advanced defences and duelling tactics before they leave to revise for N.E.W.T.s. Could be useful for you."

Harry inclined his head. "Just tell me when, Professor."

Moody's scarred features twitched into something akin to a smile—though it looked unsettling rather than warm. "Tomorrow afternoon at four. I'm with the seventh-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws first, then Gryffindors and Slytherins."

With that, Moody dismissed him.

Harry headed for the doorway, spotting Hermione and Neville waiting. He mustered a quick smile for them, but his thoughts lingered on the man he had left behind.

During the lesson, Harry had again sensed the layers of magic draped around Moody—more than just his fake eye or any typical Dark detectors. It was as though the professor was disguised by a subtle, illusory charm.

'I'm not imagining it,' Harry mused. 'He's got something hidden beneath all those scars. But why? If he wanted to hide something, why didn't he do so for his battle marks?'

"So," Neville began, falling in step alongside him as they walked towards the Great Hall, "care to tell us what that was about?"

His tone was casual, though Harry sensed an undercurrent he couldn't quite define.

"He wants me to attend the seventh-year sessions," Harry explained. "I'm not sure I will, though. The third task is coming up, and I've got enough on my plate already. I wonder why he didn't mention it sooner because if he had, I'd have probably attended most of his lessons."

Hermione pursed her lips, her expression part exasperation, part fondness. "Of course he'd offer you something like that," she said, shaking her head. "Why am I not surprised?"

'And of course you'd want to jump into something like that, even though you are revising for your exams,' Harry thought inwardly with a fond smile, and said: "I'm the chosen one, haven't you heard?"

Neville rolled his eyes while Hermione smacked his shoulder, the tension from earlier dissipating.

"Ah. How lucky we are, Hermione, to be in the presence of the great Harry Potter," Neville quipped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Come on, let's get some lunch before you start signing autographs."

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Chapter 96: The Impostor

Chapter 97: Friends

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Chapter 105: Voldemort's soul