240: Howlers and Malfoy's Talent

Moody was in trouble.

A large number of parents were questioning whether he was truly capable of teaching students.

Some rational wizards might analyze the situation calmly, acknowledging that an Auror with extensive combat experience would have valuable insights into Defense Against the Dark Arts.

But parents? They didn't think that way.

Especially parents of this generation—most of them had lived through Voldemort's era. They knew exactly what the three Unforgivable Curses meant.

No one wanted their child to end up in Azkaban one day.

To these parents, Moody—the legendary Auror, the war hero—was now nothing more than an old madman with one foot in the grave and a questionable grip on reality.

It was a harsh way to put it, but Moody had given them plenty of reasons to think so.

A man who once mistook a garbage bin for an enemy? That kind of mind wasn't exactly stable.

So, as soon as the article spread across the country via owls, it didn't even take a full day before a flood of complaint letters poured into the school.

The sheer number of them piling up in Dumbledore's office alone was enough to bury a person alive.

"Alastor, of course, I trust your abilities," Dumbledore said, picking up a letter—specifically, a Howler.

The furious voice inside roared so loudly that his ears rang.

He turned to his old friend. Moody's expression was far from pleasant.

Normally, he wouldn't have cared about such things—or rather, Moody's personality meant he shouldn't have cared.

As a seasoned Auror, he wasn't supposed to be affected by external pressures.

But this time?

This time, it seriously pissed him off.

Irritated, he took a swig from his flask, his magical eye swiveling to the letter Dumbledore was reaching for next.

"Don't open it," Moody growled. "It's filled with concentrated Bubotuber pus."

Dumbledore, unfazed, casually set the envelope aside, adding it to the growing mountain of letters.

Clearly, a significant number of parents weren't just questioning Moody—they were starting to have opinions about him, the headmaster, as well.

"Dumbledore, which scheming bastard is behind this?" Moody paced back and forth in the office, his face twitching with irritation and agitation.

Dumbledore tried to soothe him. "Alastor, what's troubling you?"

He was puzzled. His old friend wasn't the type to be rattled so easily.

"Dumbledore, I…" Moody started to speak but suddenly hesitated. He muttered something under his breath before settling on a simple apology.

Something about him seemed… off.

Under normal circumstances, Dumbledore would have been concerned. But right now, owls were still pouring in through the window, dropping off even more letters. He had no time to focus on anything else.

He picked up another envelope and tore it open—only for a slimy green slug to plop out onto his desk.

Without missing a beat, he placed the letter on the ever-growing pile, where it joined an increasing collection of unwelcome surprises.

...

"You suspect the trunk?"

In the hallway, John listened as Heinrich shared his findings from the holiday.

Unlike the heated discussions taking place in the Great Hall, a few members of the Constellation Society had gathered around John, engaged in a more private conversation.

Heinrich nodded and said, "Just as I was about to open it, Moody came back."

His tone was firm—while attempting to pick the lock, he had heard faint noises coming from inside the trunk.

The sound was eerie, like something echoing up from a deep, deep well. He had intended to force it open.

But with Moody's sudden return, he had no choice but to leave.

After this incident, Moody seemed to be even more wary of Heinrich.

John, however, was fixated on something else. He muttered, "Moody's vigilance is that lax?"

Something felt off.

Given Moody's paranoia, how had he not noticed Heinrich breaking into his office?

John couldn't believe Moody would leave without setting up some kind of detection spell.

Yet Heinrich had gotten in way too easily.

Regardless, all signs now pointed to that trunk.

If there was something suspicious, it was most likely hidden inside.

"We need to find a way to lure Moody away," John said, rubbing his smooth chin thoughtfully.

Then his gaze landed on Malfoy.

Not just John—Daphne, Heinrich, Cedric, and Fleur were all looking at him the same way.

"Why are you all looking at me?" Malfoy asked, feeling completely baffled.

Before John could answer, Fleur spoke up with a face full of sincerity. "Draco, though we've only known each other for a few short months, I can already sense the incredible talent you were born with."

Fleur 'genuinely' admired Malfoy. She had no idea how he did it, but somehow, it seemed like there wasn't a single person in the entire school he actually cared about—he just went around causing trouble everywhere.

As a Triwizard Champion, when it came to attracting hatred, Fleur was willing to call him the strongest.

For the sake of safety in the third task, their side made a promise: As long as the enemy doesn't cheat, we won't deploy Malfoy.

"Huh?" Malfoy, caught off guard by the compliment, suddenly felt a little pleased with himself.

Wait, am I actually this talented? He secretly relished the thought and asked, "What kind of ability are you talking about?"

Fleur, still completely serious, replied, "The ability to be absolutely insufferable."

Malfoy: "...…"

He hated friends with no sense of boundaries.

His eyes widened in shock as he asked, "You're not seriously planning to use me to distract Moody, are you?"

Desperate for help, he turned to Daphne.

Daphne silently looked away, as if to say, Little bro, no one else is competing for your spot.

This cold indifference stabbed Malfoy right in the heart. He turned to Cedric.

Cedric, full of expectation, said, "You don't even need to go all out—just tone it down a little."

Malfoy: "…Do you people even have manners?"

Sure, he may have spent most of his life pushing his luck, but even he felt weak at the knees when it came to provoking a former legendary Auror.

And Moody wasn't like the other professors—he actually punished students.

Malfoy pinned all his hopes on John. As his best friend, John definitely wouldn't be as shallow as the others!

What? Heinrich?

If he had John's backing, who even needed Heinrich?

Everyone knew Heinrich always listened to John anyway.

"John, you don't think I'm annoying, right?" Malfoy asked, looking at him with desperate anticipation.

John fell into deep thought for a moment before making a decision. "Draco, I'm officially lifting the ban on your… let's say, 'provocation rights' against Harry. For the time being, you're free to pick fights with him again."

Wait… so love does fade over time, huh?

Malfoy's face was filled with betrayal. Am I really that unbearable?

He completely forgot that back in first year, John had actually beaten him up for running his mouth too much.

But fortunately, John's plan didn't involve Malfoy confronting Moody head-on. Instead, he was supposed to use indirect means—by flirting—ah no, provoking Harry, thereby luring Moody away.

To be fair, while Malfoy normally didn't seem all that reliable, there was one thing he had always been right about.

It might have been due to the merpeople incident, or perhaps an intentional move to further intensify the animosity between the Boy-who-lived and Slytherin.

Either way, right now, as soon as anything happened near Harry, Moody would show up immediately—like a babysitter.

Every time Slytherin students tried to provoke Harry, Moody would intervene and publicly punish them harshly.

This left Malfoy with a constant feeling that Moody was going to pop up behind him at any moment.

…

Care of Magical Creatures.

Hagrid stared at the dwindling number of Blast-Ended Skrewts. Other than providing John with materials for protective charms, they were practically useless.

Because of that, he decided to change up the curriculum.

The stench of romance in the air seemed to have even mellowed out the magical creatures he brought this time.

"These here are Nifflers. Ye usually find 'em in mines—they love anythin' shiny."

Inside a cardboard box, the fluffy Nifflers sniffed around curiously.

Suddenly, one of them seemed to sense something. With all its strength, it leaped out of the box, using its shovel-like front paws to dig furiously into the ground.

Soon, a Leprechaun gold coin was unearthed.

The adorable Nifflers quickly won over the hearts of the female students.

Of course, it would've been even better if they weren't constantly swiping the students' belongings...

So... Cute.. John looked down at the Niffler clinging to him, desperately trying to pry his ring off his finger.

He shot Malfoy a look, signaling that it was time for him to go have a friendly interaction with Harry.

When it came to ruining Harry's mood, Malfoy was nothing short of a professional.

With just a few words, he managed to completely destroy Harry's gold-rush-induced excitement.

The two of them nearly came to blows, forcing Hagrid to rush over and separate them.

Ron was fuming, huffing like an angry young bull.

Meanwhile, while they were busy arguing, John had already used the Niffler to dig up all the buried gold coins.

Not that he even needed the Niffler—he could see exactly where the Leprechaun gold was buried. The coins emitted magic, and under his Clairvoyance, they had nowhere to hide.

Impressed, Hagrid rewarded John with a Honeydukes chocolate bar.

A premium one, no less.

Truly, Hagrid was the wealthiest person at Hogwarts.

Unfortunately, chocolate didn't appeal to John, so he casually handed it over to Goyle. This nearly led to a full-blown fight with Crabbe over who got to keep it.

"..."

Daphne, meanwhile, was staring at John with an unmistakable look of grievance.

John frowned. 'She wants some too?'

Was this chocolate really that good?

Maybe I should just buy her a whole box next time.

Care of Magical Creatures class had ended, but Malfoy's battle was far from over.

Upon running into Harry in the corridor, Malfoy immediately switched into combat mode.

However, with Hermione joining in, he quickly started losing ground.

John, seeing this, kicked Goyle—who was still savoring the lingering taste of chocolate—squarely in the backside, signaling that it was time for him and Crabbe to step in.

Realizing that Malfoy was fighting alone, Goyle and Crabbe immediately jumped into the fray.

Together, the three of them achieved an effect of 1 + 1 + 1 = 9.

Why 9?

Because 6 flipped over.

In any case, John saw that Ron had already pulled out his wand.

At that moment, the unmistakable sound of Moody's footsteps echoed through the corridor.

"Malfoy!"

Malfoy paled for a brief second before remembering something—his expression quickly returned to its usual arrogance.

John glanced over at the approaching Moody and thought for a moment. The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was nowhere near here, so how had Moody known what was happening so quickly?

Could it be… he had some kind of Marauder's Map-like artifact?

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