Chapter 18: "Have you had Moody yet?"Summary:In which Hazel finally gets to clear her head. For now anyway.
Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextThe last class of the day was Ancient Runes, where they were moving on from translations and starting to learn about carving and deploying runes. "It isn't as simple as gouging a sign into bark, of course," Professor Babbling explained. "It depends on your understanding of the runes you use, the strength of your own magic and your emotions at the time, even the seasons in which you choose to carve."
She handed out chips of wood and tiny hammers and chisels to each student. "Practice carving with these tools, and use the basic runes up on the blackboard." She tapped a rune on her staff and the blackboard filled with symbols and writing. "Take your time, and don't be afraid to come up for a fresh chip if you mess yours up; I don't expect any of you to get it right the first time, or even at all for some time yet. Everyone come up front and watch closely."
This wasn't something Hazel had practiced illicitly, but she took the words as a challenge and studied the way the Professor held her hammer and chisel, listened while she explained the technique to use. Then she went back to her desk and tried to emulate what she saw, by holding the chisel and striking precisely to carve out the symbol she had chosen.
In the end, she had gone through three chips of wood, and her final symbol was halfway carved when the bell rang. "I see you four are going to excel, just like before," Professor Babbling said with a smile, as Hazel, Hermione, Padma and Susan handed their chips in. "Well done, each of you. Homework, two feet of parchment on your chosen rune and what you'd hope to accomplish if you were carving it intentionally."
"That won't be hard," Hazel said to herself as she left the room, headed for dinner in the Great Hall. She barely noticed what she ate, intent instead on eating whatever was in front of her as fast as possible so she could get to Snape's office at last.
"Where's the fire, Hazel?" Draco asked, amused at her hurry.
"Snape's office," she replied after swallowing heavily. "Can't waste any time."
She finished eating and stood up, hurrying out of the Hall and down to the dungeons where she left her stuff in her dorm and hurried back out. Snape's office was nearby, thankfully, and she knocked firmly.
"What's the matter, Miss Potter?" came his voice from behind her. She turned and saw him sweeping up the hall towards her, and cursed; she'd forgotten that he would want to eat as well. "Are you so eager for our meeting?"
"Yes sir, I very much am," she replied promptly. "I'd like to get these nightmares out of my head as soon as I can."
"I suppose I can't blame you." He opened the door with a gesture of his hand, and led the way inside. It was the same shadowy room as it always was, with countless jars containing unmentionable substances and ingredients populating the shelves. "Have a seat, Potter, and open your mind to me. Envision the dream trap you erected over the summer, and allow me to access the valve."
"Yes sir." She sat down across from his desk and closed her eyes, bringing her mental fortress up. She imagined the gate swinging heavily open, and could almost hear the hinges creaking. "It's open, sir."
"Good. Legilimens." He appeared next to her in the mental space, and she led him to where the dreams were trapped. "The dreamcatcher is a nice touch," he noted, seeing the circular decoration above the valve.
"Yes sir, I got one at a crafts faire in Little Whinging over the summer." She'd have to hang it above her bed in the dorms, she reckoned.
He knelt down so the valve was at eye level, opened it and peered through, watching silently for a long time. Eventually he sighed and stepped back. "I understand your urgency, now. These were no ordinary dreams, Potter, you were seeing the Dark Lord's schemes and machinations."
"You said as much before, sir. Will you convince Dumbledore to act, now?"
"Let us leave your mind, first." He disappeared, and after a moment she opened her eyes, finding herself in his office once more. Though, where else would she have found herself? "I am going to extract the memory of the dreams from your mind, Potter. Sit still."
He put his wand to her temple and murmured a spell, pulling long silvery strands from her head. As he did so, the pressure of keeping them pent up eased, and disappeared; she could still recall the dreams, but it took an effort to do so, and she was glad not to have to maintain their prison anymore.
"That was the same spell you used on the diary," she said as he conjured a flask to store the memories in.
"Not quite, but close enough." He stoppered the flask and put it away. "I will ensure the Headmaster reviews these memories, Potter, but I cannot guarantee he will act on them. He is singularly focused on the Triwizard Tournament, and will not allow it to be disrupted."
"Even while Voldemort is plotting to use it against us?" she replied harshly. "You heard him, he knew what was going to happen, he got it all out of that Jorkins woman somehow."
"Yes, and now she is dead. I will have to notify the Ministry somehow, in a way that won't cause disruption."
"To hell with disruption! Sir, Voldemort is coming back!Why won't anyone-!"
"Lower your voice, Potter," he said in a low, silky tone, and she went silent at once. "Has no one explained to you the value of discretion in these matters? If you start shouting from the rooftops about the Dark Lord's return, you will be shunned and vilified by all of Britain! Especially the Ministry, Fudge won't listen under any circumstances!"
"Fudge is a coward, then," she countered harshly. "We have to tell someone, sir, you can't expect me to believe Britain is full of cowards."
"They are not cowards, but they have had thirteen years of peace since you ended his threat, and they would not appreciate the end of that peace. The Headmaster is doing what he can to ensure we are not unprepared for his return, and I daresay these memories will provide a fresh sense of urgency, but he will not allow the Tournament to be disrupted. The international consequences alone would be devastating!"
"International, sir?"
"Yes, Potter. The Dark Lord was a terrifying warlord here, but he never made any significant threats abroad, so to the world at large he was merely another dark wizard, a regional menace at best and no threat to the greater world order. I can assure you that whatever plans he has involving you must wait until after the Tournament, he would not dare to provoke a response from three schools of magic and as many separate Ministries."
She wasn't reassured, but she could see there was no point in pressing the issue. "What will Dumbledore do, then?"
"Send discrete messages to those we can trust, of course. Ministry officials who have no interest in toeing Fudge's line, and members of a group he led before when the Dark Lord was in power. Tournament or not, Potter, we are not doing nothing, I promise you."
She wasn't sure she could believe that, but his poker face was impenetrable, and she knew it was no good trying Legilimency against him. "Please, sir, please take this seriously. You saw the dreams yourself, you saw what I saw, you know-"
"Yes, Potter, I know," he countered dryly. "We adults tend to know more than children give us credit for, after all. I will not repeat myself; you are excused."
"Thank you sir," she replied sullenly, stowing her wand and slouching out of his office. Stupid Tournament anyway, she couldn't even enter it so what did she care? She wouldn't enter even if she could!
…no, that was a lie, she admitted to herself after a few moments sulking. Even if she didn't need the galleons, the idea of honor and glory and a fancy big old trophy were quite enticing by themselves. She'd enter herself in a heartbeat if she knew how! Once the "impartial judge" was revealed she'd have to get with Fred and George and brainstorm ways around them.
"Did you get the fire put out?" Draco asked when he saw her slip into the common room.
"I sure did." She sat down and spread out her homework, making a good start on it before curfew.
The next day went by without incident, though at dinner she caught up with Fred and George. "Have you had Moody yet?" Fred asked her eagerly. "Isn't he the coolest?"
"Beyond cool!" George agreed fervently.
"We don't have him until Thursday," Hazel said, remembering her schedule. "Is he pretty good then?"
"Is he! We've never had a lesson like it!"
"He knows what it's like! Out there, fighting Dark wizards and Death Eaters and everything!"
They wandered off, still laughing, and Draco looked troubled. "Bet you anything he's not so cool with us Slytherins," he said quietly. "Just you wait."
"Hm." She spotted a passing upperclassman and pulled on his sleeve. "Hey, have you had Moody yet?"
"Huh? Moody?" The boy's face darkened. "He's a right fucking cunt, Potter, don't get your hopes up." He tugged his sleeve from her grasp and hurried on up the table.
"See?" Draco sounded smug and worried at the same time, somehow.
"He probably just did something stupid and got detention," she said dismissively. "Moody can't be that bad." Snape's odd warning came up in her mind, though, and she wondered if she wouldn't be eating her words come Thursday.
After dinner, when everyone was crowding back to their common rooms, she heard yelling. "Weasley, Weasley! Did'ja see the papers?" a boy called. "Your dad's in it!"
"Huh? My dad?" Ron replied, sounding a bit nonplussed.
Pushing through the crowd, Hazel saw Ron and his other friends facing Crabbe and Goyle, who looked stupidly pleased as usual. "Haven't you two got detention to go to?" she called out.
"Piss off, Potter, this don't concern you," Crabbe snarled, brandishing the paper at Ron. "Go on, Weasley, have a looksee!"
Looking a bit dubious, Ron snatched the paper from Crabbe's grasp and held it up. "'Further Mistakes at the Ministry of Magic'," he mumbled, frowning. He went to read the article itself, but stopped at the second line. "This is just more of Rita Skeeter's trash!" and he threw the paper down. "Don't bother me with that tabloid shit!"
"No, Weasley, look at the picture!" Goyle insisted, still chuckling meanly as he pointed at the paper. "It's your mum and dad! What's that building they're in front of, a pig pen?"
"She needs to lose some weight!" Crabbe crowed.
"Does your mum even know how to read, Crabbe?" Ron growled, kicking the paper away from him. "I met her once, she looked like a hag! Guess you got your ugly face from her, didn't you?"
"You never met my mum!" Crabbe retorted, going for his wand. "She's not ugly at all!"
"VINCENT CRABBE!" a male voice roared, as Crabbe's wand flew from his hand. "How many times am I going to catch you provoking other students? Ten points from Hufflepuff for both of you!" There was Cedric Diggory again, disarming the two thugs and staring sternly down at them; to Hazel's surprise she saw he had a yellow Head Boy badge on his uniform! "You'll never make it onto the team at this rate! Come on, both of you down to Sprout's office immediately!"
He threw Ron an apologetic look, and Ron acknowledged it with a shrug and a wave. "Those dolts need to work on their lines," he joked, laughing it off and walking away.
Hazel knelt down and picked up the paper, curious what Skeeter had written about Mr Weasley. "Ugh, she got his name wrong," she muttered, seeing it was about 'Arnold' Weasley and his attempts to rescue Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody from Muggle policemen. "Not very flattering, is it?"
"Neither is the picture, look," Draco said. Sure enough, the image failed to paint either Mrs Weasley or the Burrow in a very flattering light. "Come on, it's over with so let's keep going."
"You're right, I'll read it more closely later." Folding it up again and putting it away, she followed the others to their common room for the night.
Notes:Nothing much to say today, lol. Hope everyone's keeping cool!
Chapter 19: An Unfortunate RelapseSummary:You thought we were done picking on the little swot? Think again!
Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextPotions that week was tense, with Snape in a bad mood that had him mercilessly critiquing everyone for every little flaw and issue. Hazel was hard-pressed to keep Neville from breaking down and doing anything to really set him off, at least until Snape caught on. "Stop meddling in Longbottom's business, Potter," he snarled, separating them with a few sharp gestures.
"Sorry, Hazel," Neville mumbled, shamefaced. She could only shrug and give him a sympathetic glance. Thankfully he kept his head for the rest of the lesson, though his Wit-Sharpening Potion was subpar, and Snape assigned detention to Neville and everyone else who got a less than perfect result at the end of the class.
"What's got into him today?" Hazel wondered as she left the room with Draco and Hermione, the only ones who avoided their Potions Master's wrath.
"You know it's because of Moody," Draco replied. "Usually he hates everyone who gets the Defense job and not him, but he's careful around Moody for some reason."
"Yeah, it does seem like Snape tries to avoid Moody's attention, have you noticed?" Hermione said. "Like he's scared of him, or something."
"No way, Snape isn't scared of anyone," Hazel said defensively, though privately she had to admit Hermione had a point. "Well, make sure Neville and the others know a good Scouring Charm, I'm sure they'll be disemboweling toads or something else foul."
The next day after lunch was finally their first class with Moody, and in spite of everything she'd heard about his attitude against the Slytherins, Hazel was eager to see what the old warhorse could teach them. The Gryffindor and Slytherin fourth-years all gathered at the door to the classroom, waiting impatiently for class to start.
The door swung open hard enough to bang against the wall, right as the bell rung. Everyone jumped and hurried inside, where Moody was already waiting for them, leaning heavily on his staff, magical eye whirring every which way. "Leave your books in your bags," he growled as they took their seats, "we won't be needing them today."
Hazel grinned at her friends as they sat at the front. Lessons without books were almost always fun!
Like in every class, Moody took out a list of names and called them off, his normal eye going down the list while his magical eye swiveled to fixate on each student as he called their names. When he was assured everyone was present, he swept his long gray hair from his face and straightened up. "So! As most of you are already aware, my name is Alastor Moody, but many call me Mad-Eye for obvious reasons. You, of course, will address me as Professor Moody!"
He flicked his wand, and his name appeared in an untidy scrawl on the blackboard behind him. "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin saying you're quite caught up on handling Dark Creatures, which is all fine and well. But you're behind on dealing with curses?"
Most of the classes made sounds of agreement.
"Well, half of you anyway." He glowered at the Slytherins, who glowered back. "It's my job to catch you up, then, I've got a year to whip you all into shape-"
"What, only a year? Aren't you staying?" Ron blurted out. "Uh, sir?"
Moody whirled to face him, magical eye fixing in one place; Ron looked uneasy at the scrutiny, until Moody smiled. It did no favors to his scarred and maligned face, making it appear more contorted than before, but Ron was clearly relieved he was capable of that much.
"Weasley, is it? Your dad did me a great favor not so long ago, got me out of a tight spot. But yes, I'm only here as a favor for Dumbledore, and then I'm retiring again!" He chuckled ominously and stumped back to his desk. "Where was I? Ah, yes, curses! Ministry says I can only show you countercurses, and to be certain we'll cover those; I can't show you the real nasty ones, the illegal curses, until your sixth year. Which is horse shite! Dark wizards don't care how old you are!"
He thumped his desk as his voice rose, and paced back down the classroom. "Luckily, neither does Dumbledore. He's got a higher opinion of your nerves, so I've got permission to show them to you this year! How can you defend yourselves when you don't know what's coming? A witch who's about to curse you isn't gonna stop and explain herself, is she? She won't be all polite about it. So you need to be prepared, alert and watchful. You need to practice constant vigilance. You don't need to take notes on every word I say, Miss Granger!"
Hazel looked to her side, saw Hermione flushing and hiding a notebook and quill. Moody's eye could see out the back of his head and through people's bodies, apparently, which set off red flags in her head. "Taking notes is a fine thing, but paying attention is even better. I'll tell you when to take notes!" He limped back up to the front.
"So, a room full of Slytherins should know this fairly well: which curses are most heavily punished by wizards' law?"
No one said anything, not even Hermione. No hands went up, the entire room had been struck dumb. And Hazel, in the front row, felt dozens of eyes on the back of her neck. Traitors, she thought angrily, staring straight ahead with her hands folded primly before her.
"Well? No one?" Moody prompted, glancing from face to face while his magic eye focused unswervingly on Hazel. It was somehow even more unnerving than watching it swivel back and forth.
"What are you waiting for?" Draco hissed, jabbing her hard in the side with his elbow. "Say something!"
"Go screw yourself, Draco," she whispered, barely moving her lips.
"Either of you have anything to say?" Moody growled, standing right before them. "Come on, speak up." The silence dragged on, and on, and Hazel felt the eyes on her neck growing mutinous and impatient. "If I don't get an answer in ten seconds I'm putting the lot of you in detention with Filch!" Moody snarled, thumping the floor with his staff.
"Fuck's sake!" Hazel shoved her seat backward and shot to her feet. "There's three of them, sir, the Unforgivable Curses: one for killing, one for torturing, one for controlling!"
"Correct!" Moody cried, slashing his wand at the blackboard. UNFORGIVEABLE CURSES appeared in rough lettering. "I'd heard you were an expert on them, Potter, and a foul-mouthed little hooligan to boot."
"I have no idea where you got that from," she growled, sitting back down and glaring up at him.
"If you don't want detention for your little outburst you'll demonstrate them for the rest of the class, Potter," he shot back, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as he loomed over her. He reached for the flask at his side and had a long swallow; she had time to notice the smell coming from it, and to wonder where she'd smelled it before, but he didn't give her time to consider it. "Come on, up front! You were so eager to stand up just a second ago!"
Unaccountably pissed off she marched to the front of the class and whipped out her wand. "Rodensortia!" she snarled, and a large black rat appeared on Moody's desk. "Imperio!" The rat rose on its hind legs and did a tap dance, then jumped through the air to land atop Draco's head.
"Perfect control, unstoppable and mostly undetectable," Moody was saying as she forced it through various acrobatics and improbable stunts. Most of the class started laughing as she made it do cartwheels through the air, but their professor slammed the floor with his staff. "You think it's funny, do you? Would you still be laughing if Potter used it on you instead?!"
The rat flung itself at the window, repeatedly trying to bash through it with its body. "It'll jump out the window, drown itself, force itself down someone's throat and sing the national anthem all the while," he went on, in that dangerous tone again. She made it throw itself at him, and he snatched it out of the air instead. "Awful lot of wizards and witches were under its influence, years back when the Dark Lord was in control. The Ministry had a hell of a job trying to sort them all out, believe you me!"
He threw the rat down to his desk. "That's enough, give it a moment," he said, and she lifted her wand to stop the spell. "It can be resisted, and I'll try and show you how, but it takes a real strength of mind and character that not everyone has. Best to avoid it! Constant vigilance!"
The rat had been huddling and trying to catch its breath, and now it tried to scamper away; Moody brought it back with a lazy flick of its wand. "Go on, Potter, the Cruciatus Curse."
"No," she replied, glancing at Neville. He looked terrified, but nodded imperceptibly.
"No?" Moody asked incredulously. "It's a rat, Potter, you won't get in trouble for torturing rats, don't pretend you didn't practice on them before."
"It was spiders, actually." But she imagined it was Pettigrew before her, and brought her wand up again. "Fine, you asshole! Crucio!" The rat squealed loudly and writhed on the desk, and for a second she thought it was trying to claw its own skin off.
She glanced at Neville again while that sensation of poison being drawn out flowed through her. His eyes were locked onto the tortured rat, and he had gone quite pale, but he didn't push away.
"Hazel, stop!" Hermione shouted, shooting to her feet, glaring furiously at Moody. "Stop it, both of you stop it! How can you make her do these things?!"
She stopped the spell, and the rat huddled in on itself, shivering with pain and fear. "You don't need thumbscrews or water torture if you know the Cruciatus Curse," Moody went on, as if there had been no interruptions. "Pain, that's all it does, unbearable and unending, like every nerve in your body is on fire."
He had another drink from his flask. "Alright Potter, finish it."
"I can't," she muttered, looking down at her feet. "I'm not strong enough, I can't cast the Killing Curse properly."
That was a lie, she had killed with it before, but he seemed ready to take her at her word. "Not surprising, torture and control's different from the real act of evil, isn't it." He jabbed his wand at the insensate rat. "Avada Kedavra!"
A bright flash of green light and a swooshing sound, and the rat rolled over, unmistakably dead. He banished it with a flick of his wand. "Not nice, not pleasant. No countercurse to prevent it, no spell to block it. Only one person in all of known history has ever survived it at full strength, and she's standing right here next to me."
They were all staring at her again, silent and unmoving. But she was in no mood. "Whatever, sir, can I sit down now?"
"Go on then." Quickly she marched back and fell into her seat, clamping down with Occlumency to keep herself from bursting into tears. Secretly practicing on her own was one thing, being blackmailed into using them before everyone else was something else entirely!
"The Killing Curse needs a powerful bit of magic behind it, of course. You could all point your wands at me and say the words and I wouldn't even get a nosebleed. I'm not here to teach you how to cast it, though."
"Then why are you showing it to us, sir?" Draco said, glaring up at him.
"Because you've got to know," he replied. "I'm not here to be your friend, or to hold your hand or coddle you through learning schoolyard jinxes, I'm here to show you the worst the world has to offer. It's my job to make you appreciate what the Dark Arts are truly capable of, so that if you ever find yourself on the wrong end of a Dark wizard's wand you might stand a hair's chance of surviving! Like I said before: constant vigilance!"
How could he stand up there and lecture them like he hadn't just forced her to reveal herself as a Dark witch in training? In five minutes he had ruined this class for her, and judging by the looks of her friends, for them as well.
"Like Miss Potter said, those three curses are Unforgivable. Using them on another human being will get you nothing but a lifetime in Azkaban, but there are those who won't care for such restrictions. That's what you're up against! That's what I have to teach you to fight, teach you to prepare and arm yourself against! But all my lessons and lectures won't do you any good if you don't learn constant, unceasing vigilance!"
He whipped his wand at the blackboard, and more writing appeared in his untidy scrawl. "Now's the time for taking notes, Miss Granger. Quills out, wands away!"
They finally had a normal class after that, with Moody lecturing them on the Unforgivables in more depth while they took notes on what he said. Eventually it was nearly time to leave, and he gulped from his flask some more. "It's a few minutes early, but I think we can stop there. Potter, stay back."
Everyone got to their feet and started leaving, and it turned her stomach to hear them gossiping about how cool the lesson had been, the way the rat had twitched uncontrollably, how it had simply fallen over after dying. When the class was empty he stood in front of her, looking a little awkward. "You alright then, Potter?" he asked in a much different voice than he'd used before, almost gentle in a weird way.
"Wh- Am I alright?" She gaped up at him in disbelief. "No I'm not alright! You blackmailed me into casting all those curses in front of my friends!"
"I knew you could do it," he replied, as if that excused his actions. "I knew it'd be more effective coming from one of their classmates, instead of an old battleaxe like me. You've got to know, Potter, you've all got to know. I'm not here to lie to you or sugarcoat the facts."
"So you said." She couldn't help the bitterness in her voice, and in hindsight saw how he had played her like a fool; getting under her skin, getting her mad enough to use the Curses on that rat and follow along like a trained dog. "Was that really all just an act, then, to get me pissed off at you?"
"They said you were smart," he said approvingly. "Smart, but apparently not very bright. You can't wear your heart on your sleeve like that, or you'll have worse than me getting into your head."
"Whatever." She was done with this; she grabbed her bag and made sure her wand was stowed in its holster and stood up. "Are we done, then?"
"Nearly. I'll make sure you don't get into any trouble, don't worry about that. And how about forty points to Slytherin for being such a good sport?"
That was better than detention, she decided, but she still felt horrible. She was halfway to the door when a thought occurred to her. "Sir, when you said the Killing Curse takes more power than we'd have now, did you mean it?" she asked, turning back around.
He chuckled nastily. "Typical Slytherin. Why, you wanna give it a go? Go on then, Potter."
He seemed awfully sure of himself, she thought, staring at his amused leer. He had to be aware of the seal on her magic; maybe he could even see it with that weird eye of his. "You know what? Fine, I'll give it a go. Hold still!" She drew her wand and advanced on him, imagining Voldemort standing before her. Burning hatred and fury rose up, as if on command, and her face contorted to match. "Avada Kedavra!"
A searing flash of green light blinded her, and for a few crucial seconds she couldn't see anything as her wand shook and her chest burned from the incredible effort she'd just made. But when she finally blinked the afterglow out of her sight, Moody was still standing there, and sure enough, the only mark on him was a bloody nose.
"Not bad, Potter," he smirked, sniffing the blood back up his nose. "You'd best run along before someone gets curious."
"You are completely unbelievable, sir," she said flatly, shaking her head. But she put her wand away again and hurried out of the room, eager to put distance and move onto her next class.
She didn't get far before her friends found her, and they all had worried expressions on their faces. "I can't believe him! Making you cast those Curses like that! We should say something to Dumbledore!" Hermione ranted.
"It probably won't help, he's bound to have gotten permission first before pulling a stunt like that," Draco replied, frowning. "What did he want to talk about after we left, Hazel?"
"Try and apologize, mostly," she summarized, still feeling resentful. "Apparently it was more effective if Idemonstrated those curses instead of him. God knows why or how though."
"Well, he does know his stuff, you have to admit that," Ron said, trying to be diplomatic. Not even Hazel could argue that, and after a moment they kept walking.
Notes:Hazel really needs to not wear her heart on her sleeve so much, huh.
Chapter 20: Sun RunesSummary:Moody is still an asshole, and Hazel still won't put up with his shit.
Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextMoody's orders or not, Hazel had to deal with an unpleasant uptick in rumors and mutterings behind her back yet again, as word got out about her performance in his class. "Hey Potter, how did it feel, torturing Malfoy in front of everyone?" Goyle called the next day at breakfast, while Crabbe guffawed next to him.
"I dunno, ask him how it felt," she retorted, elbowing Draco.
"It was pretty boring, she sucks at torturing people," he said nonchalantly.
The high table seemed tense, Hazel thought. Snape was clearly furious, McGonagall's mouth was as thin as she'd ever seen it, and Dumbledore appeared grave and thoughtful. The only one unaffected was Moody, and he even seemed a little smug as he chewed through a plate of eggs and sausages and gulped from his flask.
The first dueling club of the year had Professor Moody overseeing, and he had a smug look on his face again as he ordered everyone into lines. The Slytherins, she noticed, were outnumbered on one side and facing two or even three opponents at once. But it was no good complaining, she knew, so she grit her teeth and got ready to kick some ass.
Moody's prejudice against Slytherins shone through quite clearly as the club went on. "Come on, don't hold back! There's a dark wizard opposite you, take him down!" he growled, egging on a couple of Gryffindors.
Hazel had had enough. "He wants dark wizards? Let's give him dark wizards!" she called to the rest of her classmates, using more advanced spells and demolishing her three opponents immediately.
"NO CHEATING!" Moody roared, sending a stinging hex her way which she barely deflected. "If you can't win fairly, get out of this hall!"
"How is it cheating, sir?" she replied loudly, waving everyone to stand down as she marched up the hall towards him. "You keep calling us dark wizards, don't act all shocked when we act like it!"
"You think you're in charge here, Potter, do you?"
"I do, actually, yeah! This club wouldn't even be meeting up if it weren't for me and my friends!" There was a murmur of agreement, especially from the Gryffindors.
Moody's beady eye narrowed at her, and he stumped down the hall, wand in hand. "You think you're too good for this, do you?"
She rolled her eyes at that. "Whether I'm too good or not doesn't matter, I like helping the others until we're all too good. So suck it, old man."
Moody snorted. "You've got nerve, for a Slytherin." He pulled his flask and had a long drink from it. "Why don't you back up all your talk, then? Swotty little dark witch like you shouldn't have much trouble with an old duffer like me!"
Not even the second week and she was already getting into a fight with her new teacher. Ah well, it still beat out second year when she didn't even wait for school to start. "I'll show you swotty!" she called back, trying to strategize. That magic eye would make her usual smokescreen trick useless, so she'd have to just rely on brute force. She ignored the fact that he was a veteran Auror with decades of experience who had taken down more powerful opponents than herself; that was just self-defeating!
Everyone had cleared the way by then, and Hazel, impatient to prove herself, started out hard, flicking her wand to cast several silent Stunners in a row. Moody thumped the floor with his staff, and a rune flickered at the head, drawing in the jets of light and absorbing them. Then he flicked his wand, and Hazel tried blocking it, but there was nothing to block.
Confused, she tried backing away, and nearly tripped over; her boots were stuck to the floor! Before she could pull herself free Moody shouted "Incarcerous!" and she was bound up in an instant by thick ropes! "Still think you're too good for us, Potter?"
"Let me go, you bastard!" she yelled, trying not to panic as flashbacks to the encounter with Quirrell threatened to overcome her. "You win, you win! Just let me go!"
He banished the ropes with a lazy flick of his wand. "You've heard people say never underestimate your opponents, right?" he said to the rest of the Hall. "Well, here's another bit of advice just as important: never overestimate yourself! Look where it got Potter here!"
"Fucker," she muttered sourly, still trying not to panic as she retreated, though without turning her back on Moody.
"I heard that! Twenty points from Slytherin!"
"That was harsh, Professor Moody," Hermione called out, stepping up. "Hazel's been a great leader and teacher for all of us in the dueling club!"
"And if it wasn't for her it wouldn't have been restarted anyway! Three cheers for Hazel!" Fred declared, to much cheering.
Perhaps sensing that he wouldn't get away with maligning the Slytherins this time, Moody let them cheer and clap, and Hazel felt a great sense of gratitude and accomplishment. Fred was right, she had championed this gathering as best she could, and given her all to making sure everyone came out better for participating. To see them defending her was almost too much to bear.
"Alright, enough, enough," Moody said eventually, waving for silence. "Come up here and show me how you've been leading and teaching around here, Potter."
Hesitantly she did so, dividing the participants more evenly and having them practice the basics to shake the summer rust off. Some did better than others, of course, and she took the time to help out with those who were struggling.
"Maybe I was wrong about you," Moody grunted, watching over the proceedings as students slung spells and shielded and dodged. "You've got this lot trained up alright."
"I owe a lot to Professor Lupin and Professor Snape, of course," she replied modestly, "they taught me almost everything I know about dueling."
He grunted again and looked thoughtful, and she figured that was as much of an apology as she was gonna get for now.
They were still studying the Blast-Ended Skrewts in Care of Magical Creatures, and Charlie and Hagrid were both inordinately pleased by their negligible progress. The creatures were growing rapidly despite the fact that no one had quite determined what they ate. "We're gonna have some of you lot come down every other evening or so and take notes on their behavior and stuff, how's that sound?" Charlie said, grinning like Santa Claus offering a huge present.
"Are you mad, Professor?" Pansy whined from the very back of the class. "As if we don't see enough of those foul things already!"
"Yeah well, I see enough of Professor Snape every day, but you don't hear me complaining," Charlie countered. "Do as you're told, Parkinson, and I won't have to go see him again to report on your behavior in my class."
The Gryffindors roared with laughter, and Hazel was certain that if it weren't for the hard and fast rule that Slytherins had to stand as one, Pansy would be entirely alone in the midst of the mockery. As it was, the fact that no one actively stood up for her said volumes by itself.
All their classes were assigning much more homework than before, especially in Transfiguration. "The next phase of your magical education is one of the most important of all," McGonagall said sternly, her glasses flashing dangerously in the light. "Your Ordinary Wizarding Levels draw closer every day-"
"Those aren't until fifth year!" Seamus Finnigan groaned.
"Perhaps, Mister Finnigan, but I have never seen a fourth-year class so ill prepared for them!" she replied. "Miss Granger and Miss Potter remain the only students in this class who have successfully transfigured a hedgehog into a pincushion! The rest of you have a great deal of catching up to do!"
Hazel felt herself flush at the abrupt recognition, and in the corner of her eye she saw Hermione had also gone rather pink.
The ghostly Professor Binns had them writing long essays every week on the numerous goblin rebellions of the eighteenth century, and Hazel wondered how badly they had been treated back then that they'd want to rebel so often. In Potions they were researching antidotes, with the implied threat of being poisoned before Christmas break just to see if their antidotes worked. Charms was still a soft option for her, since she had already mastered the Summoning Charm to Flitwick's standards and so didn't have to read the three heavy books he would have assigned otherwise.
Muggle Studies had moved onto Muggle money, specifically the pound sterling of Britain; it was easy enough for Hazel, and she was happy to help explain how a hundred pence made a pound, and how one could carry large amounts of cash with various high-value banknotes and coins. It helped that British money was so pretty, too.
In Ancient Runes she had succeeded in carving several minor chips by now, though none of them had any magic infused into them. She was especially interested in the Sowilo rune, which reminded her of the original shape of her scar on her forehead, and of the wand movement for the Killing Curse. "Professor Babbling, what does the Sowilo rune stand for?" she asked after class that day.
"It is the sun rune, Miss Potter," she replied. "It counteracts the Isa rune and the cosmic ice it brings. I'm not surprised to hear you asking about this rune in particular." Her gaze flicked up to the scar on her head as she said this, of course.
"Yes ma'am." No use denying it. "Why do you suppose my scar was in this shape?"
"We can only surmise, of course, though the simplest answer is usually the best one, and in this case the simplest answer is that this shape represents the wand movements necessary for the Killing Curse, which you somehow survived. Though you'd already be aware of that, hm?"
"Er, right." She ducked her head, but Professor Babbling showed no judgment or scorn. "What sort of effects can a carver infuse into it, then?"
"Well, it has several protective meanings, so one can imbue it with defensive forces, but it also has energetic properties as well. Sowilo once encompassed all that was good for a warlock or warrior: dedication, perseverance, honor and morality. It was also a symbol of success and victory, and warlocks of old would carve their wands with this symbol to attract these qualities to their spellwork and dueling."
Now that was interesting! "You can put runes on your wand?" Hazel asked, trying not to sound too eager.
Babbling saw right through her, though she only chuckled and shook her head. "You can indeed, but that isn't something we typically cover until NEWT level Runes."
"That makes sense. Though, I noticed you said was?"
"Yes." Babbling sighed again. "Like many things the symbol has been perverted over time. It represents the Killing Curse to most wizards these days, and thus it is assumed to bring death, decay and ruination; in the Muggle world it is associated with a particular police force deployed by the Germans in the years leading up to the Second World War."
"You mean the Nazis." It was always the Nazis, wasn't it? Whatever. "You also said that the intention of the carver matters most, right? So I can carve that sign and want what's best, and that would be what counts. Not whatever anyone else thinks."
"Very good, Miss Potter. But I would not discount public perception so easily. It never hurts to have the people on your side, after all."
Hadn't Narcissa said something similar? She was sure she had, at some point. "Thank you very much, Professor Babbling. I should go." She bowed, and turned to leave.
Notes:It's ALWAYS the Nazis!
Chapter 21: VioletsSummary:Poor Draco. That is all~
Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextOctober came along in time, and while Moody had apparently decided antagonizing Hazel wasn't worth his time, he was still going hard on the Slytherins as a whole, bad-mouthing their parents and encouraging other Houses to gang up on them in his class. Whenever he had a new curse or jinx to teach them he acted like the Slytherins already knew it and made them leave the room, then when they got to come back in they had to defend themselves against it.
"Come on! What kind of Slytherin can't counter this?" he demanded during a lesson on Densaugeo, a hex that caused one's front teeth to grow to beaver-like proportions.
Hazel, who had shrunk her teeth with a silent Shrinking Charm, rolled her eyes. "Hard to cast out loud when your teeth are huge, Professor. You gonna teach us non-verbal spellcasting next?"
Moody scratched his chin and pretended to think about it. "Well, that's usually a NEWT thing, but I guess we could give it a try. Everyone straighten yourselves out and line up!" A few muttered Shrinking Charms were cast to fix errant teeth, and the students lined up across from each other. "So then! Anyone tell me what the advantages to silent spellcasting are?"
Hermione's hand shot up, and he nodded at her. "Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform, which gives you a split-second advantage!" she recited at top speed.
"Good, five points for Gryffindor. Like Miss Granger said, you can catch them off guard if they don't know what you're throwing at them, but high-level duelists won't be fooled for long in any event. Constant vigilance will always protect you!"
"Along with an enchanted walking stick, eh, Professor?" Hazel said, remembering how his staff had absorbed her spells.
"Sure, that helps too. Now then, one side's gonna try Disarming the other without saying anything! The other side will try and block just the same!"
Hazel smirked at Draco and did as requested, launching silent Disarming charms at him while he blocked with lazy flicks of his wand. Out of everyone else, only Hermione got a handle on it with any kind of timeliness, and since it wasn't exactly something one could demonstrate easily, the others struggled.
"Okay, enough," Moody said eventually. "Silent spells aren't easy, so don't feel bad if you didn't get the hang of it today. Homework, two feet on Densaugeo, focusing on creative ways to use it in duels. Practice non-verbal spells for a little extra credit too."
"I wish he'd let go of hating on us," Hazel said as she walked out of the classroom. "His classes would be tolerable without that."
"It hasn't been that bad since the first day," Ron protested.
"Yes it has, imagine if you were wearing green," Draco replied, glaring coolly at the redhead. "At least Snape has eased off."
"No he hasn't! He's just as-" and then he caught himself. "Oh, haha, very funny."
"Cool it, boys, don't let their grownup shit get under your skin," Hazel insisted, sensing where this could go. "It isn't just snakes that need to stick together, got it?"
"Right, sorry mate," Ron offered after a moment.
Draco nodded and took a deep breath. "Hazel's right, we should stick together."
"Good minions," and she patted his shoulder, laughing at the expression on their faces. "Now come on, we're holding up the line."
The next morning at breakfast, Draco's eagle owl flew down, though it landed in front of Hazel instead of him. "That for me, fella?" she asked, peering at the package. Sure enough, it had her name on it, in an elegant and feminine cursive. "Well okay then." She untied the parcel and offered the owl some bits of sausage, and tore the packaging open to reveal a long silken scarf, in Slytherin colors, with ornate flower designs embroidered into it.
"Violets," Draco murmured, staring at the scarf with an inscrutable expression on his face. "What is she playing at, anyway?"
"Violets, eh." She thought back to her lessons on the language of flowers, and recalled that violets were sometimes exchanged between two women who had feelings for one another. Feeling that odd thrill again she wrapped it around her neck, giggling at the look on Draco's face.
"There's a note, too," he said sullenly, picking a sheet of paper out of the wrapping and shoving it at her.
"Thank you, Draco," she said with exaggerated primness, and while the rest of the table laughed she opened the note and read:
To keep you warm in the cold times ahead, my warmest thoughts are with you, dear Hazel.
-NBM
"Those were stitched by hand," Blaise remarked, peering at the embroidery. "Draco's mother sent this to you?"
"She did, yes. After all I've done for her and for Draco, is it any wonder she would express her gratitude in some form?"
"I suppose not." He smirked at Draco and went back to eating, though Draco seemed troubled and could only pick at his food.
The scarf did indeed keep her warm, and she made sure the violets were facing outward during the day. She'd never made her orientation a secret, but nor had she worn it outwardly this way either. Granted, most of the school thought it was just a pretty new accessory, and she took great pleasure in telling them it was from Draco's mother.
And of course, when the occasional pureblood got a speculative look in their eye, she took great pleasure in playing dumb and telling them the scarf was just a symbol of gratitude for saving Draco and being so friendly with the family over the years. "Friendly, right," was the typical reply, and everyone rolled their eyes at this juncture and went on with their day.
"I like your scarf, Hazel," Luna said from behind her, and she turned to smile. "I heard that Draco's mother made it for you?"
"She did, yes." She held Luna's hand for a few moments, sad they couldn't do more. "The violets are especially pretty, don't you think?"
"They really are." She leaned in closer. "If she did this with her fingers, imagine what else her fingers could do~"
Hazel's face went red as she imagined just that, and Luna giggled. "See you soon~" She ghosted a kiss on her cheek and skipped away, humming cheerily. After a gobsmacked second, Hazel went on her own way, too.
"Merlin's beard, Hazel, are you even trying to be subtle?" Draco demanded that evening in the common room. "Telling everyone my mother sent you that scarf! She isn't even properly divorced yet!"
"What's the big deal?" she replied blithely, wrapping it closer about herself. "It's a very warm scarf, and it's getting cold so why shouldn't I wear it?"
It was incredibly amusing, watching him seethe and simmer. "You know why you shouldn't wear it! Those flower designs!"
"Violets, you said?" She fingered the design, unable to stop smirking at him. "What's wrong with violets? I happen to think they smell nice~"
"Everyone's gonna think she's a, a…"
"What's that?" The smirk faded slightly and she cocked an eyebrow. "Finish that sentence, Draco, everyone's gonna think your mother's a what?"
"A lesbian!" he hissed. "She's twice our age, do you have any idea how it looks?"
"Don't be stupid, if Narcissa and I want to be friendly it's none of your business," she countered coldly. "What's the big deal anyway? You've known for years that I don't like boys that way."
"It's a big deal because we're still just kids," he went on, heedless of the attention they were drawing. "She could get in serious trouble! Like Lockhart did, remember?"
"You little pest!" All amusement drained away at the reminder of that man, and she rose to her feet. "Narcissa is nothing like him, we're just friendly with each other! I would never do anything to put her at risk, and you know that!"
"You don't know what violets mean, do you?" Draco retorted, likewise standing up. "They symbolize love and lust between two women!"
"Oh, is that all?" Hazel laughed. "You're freaking out because you don't wanna think about your mum getting freaky with your best friend, is that it? Fuck off with that noise!"
For a second he couldn't say a word, he just went red in the face at being called out so openly. Eventually he cleared his throat and scowled. "I swear, Hazel, friend or not, if you get my mother in trouble I will make you regret it. Do you understand?"
She paused, looking him in the eye to see if he meant it. He did, and that was sobering. "I promise I will not endanger your mother," she replied, standing straight and putting a hand to her heart. "But I won't stop wearing the scarf."
He had nothing to say to that, and after a moment he slumped back into his chair. "Please, Hazel, she's been through enough already, please don't make it worse."
"Don't make me repeat myself." She sat down as well and pulled her homework back to her, focusing on that until she was done. Then she dropped her quill and yawned. "I don't care if we aren't having a Quidditch season, tell the team we're still practicing on Saturdays. Next year the Cup will be back, I'm sure."
"Aye-aye, Captain," he replied. "Starting tomorrow, I take it?"
Tomorrow was already Saturday? Shit, it was, wasn't it? "We sure are," she said confidently. "Assuming Madam Hooch allows it, anyway."
A moment later he chuckled and stood up. "I'll be sure to pass that along, then," and he wandered off elsewhere in the common room. Hazel yawned and stood up too, to wander off to bed for the night.
After breakfast the next day Hazel sought out Madam Hooch, finding her in her office off the training grounds. She looked up at the approaching steps, yellow eyes narrowing. "What is it, Potter?" she barked, impatient as ever. "Speak up!"
Hazel had a speech ready, but in the face of Hooch's impatience she decided to just go for it. "Er, I was wondering if the Slytherin Quidditch team could still practice on Saturdays, even if the Cup isn't on?" she asked.
"I don't see why not." She flicked her wand and a box of Quidditch gear unchained itself. "Put everything back the way you found it, or you'll never chase a Snitch in my stadium again. Understand?"
"Yes ma'am. We're not practicing right away, but I wanted to get your permission as soon as possible."
"Well, you've got it, now clear off." And Hooch went back to her business, whatever it was.
That was easy. Hazel told herself not to question it and bowed once more. "Yes ma'am," she said politely, turning to leave. She found Draco and told him practice was on, right after lunch as usual, then went to fetch her Firebolt to fly around for a while. In particular she flew over the lake, skimming the surface so closely she got spray on her skirts. God, she loved flying!
One light lunch later, and she went down to the Quidditch pitch, broom in one hand and the box of gear under the other arm. She was glad to see her squad show up, along with most of the reserves, and to her surprise the Gryffindor team was there too! "Looks like the secret got out," she said, shooting a glare at Draco.
"What?" he replied blandly, shrugging. "Johnson was all for it when she heard Ron and I."
Was this his way of getting back at her for the scarf thing? Ugh. Boys. "Well, fine. All of you warm up and get loose, and then up in the air! Show me how much you've forgotten over the summer!"
Everyone stretched and then they kicked off, even the Gryffindors, and they all ran drills until Hazel was satisfied. "Good! Not as many dunderheads as I was afraid of! Johnson, sort your team out, get a squad ready for a friendly game."
Angelina flew off, and she turned back to her own lot. "Malfoy, you're Seeker and Captain. Zabini, Pucey, Warrington, you're my Chasers. Puglia's Keeper, Bulstrode and Bletchley are Beaters."
"What about you, Potter?" Draco asked, looking excited to fly against the lions again.
"Someone's gotta play referee," she shot back. "This is just a practice match, so play fair and don't embarrass yourselves, got it?" They all cheered, and she lugged the box of balls to the center of the pitch.
"Captains, shake hands!" she called, and Draco smirked as he gripped Angelina's hand briefly. She looked at the red-clad team; it was still more than half Weasley, she noticed, with Ron as Keeper, Ginny as Seeker, and the twins flexing their bats. The usual trio of terrors were Chasers too, Angelina, Katie and Alicia.
Hopefully her snakes would get a run for their money. She blew her whistle and kicked the box open, and the four balls shot off into the sky! Both teams went into gear and flew like clockwork, and Hazel had her work cut out for her, keeping an eye on everyone and wishing she had studied the rulebook more closely before this. Luckily for her, no one felt like cheating, even though it was the usual rough-and-tumble game they all knew and loved.
Unfortunately it went on too long, with neither Ginny or Draco able to catch the Snitch, and eventually Hazel had to blow the whistle and call everyone back in. "Sorry guys, but we can't let it run too late, it's not a proper game after all," she told them, to some boos and discontent. "Let's let the reserves have a go, alright?"
So the teams shuffled around again, and the reserves got to play for a while, then Hazel called everyone back in and had them run drills some more. By then there was motion in the stands, and Hazel flew up to see what was going on; it was Cedric Diggory and Roger Davies, the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw Captains. "Alright guys?" she asked.
"Did they put the Cup back on, then?" Davies asked. "Why didn't they say anything to everyone?"
"Oh, no, I had asked Hooch if the Slytherin team could practice, and Johnson heard about it so she brought the Gryffindors around," she explained with a laugh. "I'm pretty sure they'd say something if the season was back on!"
"I think so too," Cedric said fairly. "This will be a good year to practice anyway, without the pressure of a season to keep up with; I'll speak to Hooch myself about it!"
"I guess I will too." Davies shook his head. "Look at us, Diggory, being shown up by a fourth-year in Quidditch!"
"No shame in being shown up by the Girl Who Lived, not when she's got that Firebolt," Cedric laughed.
Hazel laughed too. "I'll catch you two later, then." With that she flew back to the other teams, and blew her whistle again. "Alright you lot, pack it in," she called, summoning the balls back down to the box. "Gotta get the gear back to Hooch before she bans us all from Quidditch until the day we graduate!"
"She wouldn't really do that," Fred laughed. "Would she?"
"Her exact words were 'Put everything back the way you found it, or you'll never chase a Snitch in my stadium again. Understand?'" she recited, putting air quotes up with her fingers. "Whatever though, bring the stuff in already!"
Notes:Violets aren't exactly subtle, are they?
Chapter 22: Points to SlytherinSummary:Lots happens, and everyone is caught off guard eventually.
Notes:(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter TextNext week a rumor started going around, that Moody was putting students under the Imperius Curse to test their resistance to mental coercion. "Have they gone mental?" Hazel wondered when the rumor reached her ears at lunch that day. "They aren't supposed to use that on us until sixth year!"
Naturally she went right to Snape. "Sir, is it true?" she asked, waving him down after eating. "Is Professor Moody really putting everyone under the Imperius Curse?"
"It is," he admitted, glancing around. "Fret not, however, the Ministry assigned other Aurors to oversee the process. No student is in danger from this, I promise."
As opposed to the many other things a student could be in danger from? She kept that to herself though. "He won't try and make me cast the Curse, will he?"
"Don't be absurd, Potter. It was alarming enough he wanted to expose you all to it before sixth year in the first place," he said sharply. "Stop wasting time and get to class."
She had no time to worry about it for now, with the opening of the Tournament looming closer and the professors piling homework on. The Skrewts were getting steadily larger every time they went down to the paddock, having gone from six inches to nearly twenty-five since they first met them; Hagrid and Charlie were enormously pleased despite the classes being nigh disastrous, and neither of them seemed too bothered by the fact that no one had figured out what they ate.
In Ancient Runes she had gotten good enough at carving to start working with actual infusions of power into what she carved. Which was where the real difficulty lay, since as Professor Babbling put it, it didn't work the same way for everyone. "For a very few, it is as easy as waving one's wand at the climax of the carving, and willing your power into the material. For others it is a ritual that takes all of one's concentration and ability, willing magic and power into every etching."
"What if you're carving into your wand, Professor?" Hazel said, raising her hand.
"Then I would very much hope that you have many years of carving and inscriptions behind you before starting such a delicate endeavor," was the sober reply. "Even an Ollivander would hesitate to begin carving runes into a wand."
"Are they really so powerful?"
"They can be, but the bigger concern is how badly things can go wrong," Babbling said. "I think for now, Miss Potter, I will ask that you leave your carving tools in class."
"Yes ma'am." She'd asked too many questions too fast, she realized, and now the Professor was worried she would try something on her own that could blow up in her face. Literally, maybe. That was her best guess anyway; either way she'd have to make the best use of the time she had. So she diligently applied herself to the class, perhaps more than she would have otherwise, and hoped she'd be one for whom runes would come easily.
In Potions that week, Snape finally carried through on his threats. "Your antidotes should be ready by now," he said, pacing back and forth across the class. "You will approach my desk, one by one, and I will provide you with a vial. You will imbibe the contents of that vial, wait five seconds, and then imbibe your antidote. Properly prepared, your antidote will neutralize the contents of the vial; otherwise, we will see if I miscalculated the dosage."
Hazel was confident in her antidote, though she had to wait, as Snape was calling the Gryffindors up first, by alphabetical order of their names. Thankfully most of them managed to have created adequate antidotes, and only Seamus Finnigan had real trouble, as the poison failed to completely neutralize and he seemed about to pass out before Snape flicked his wand and forced a shriveled brown object down his throat.
"Can anyone tell me what method I used to spare Mister Finnigan from his own humiliation?" Snape asked coolly, and he nodded as Hazel raised her hand.
"That was a bezoar, sir, right? You mentioned them in our very first class."
"Correct, five points to Slytherin." He regarded Finnigan with a sneer. "No more stomach pain, Mister Finnigan?"
"N-No sir," the boy gasped, though he was still a bit pale.
"Do you know where you went wrong?"
"Um… I reckon I, uh, didn't stir it enough?"
"At which phase did you neglect stirring?" Snape prompted, with what passed for gentleness from him. Hazel hardly expected Finnigan to recognize it, though.
Finnigan thought for another few seconds, then brightened. "Right before putting the mistletoe berries in?"
"Very good." He waved Finnigan aside, and the rest of the class proceeded without incident, though Ron and Dean Thomas also had difficulties, as did Millicent on the Slytherin side. When Hazel was called up, she took the vial in hand, but paused when the ring hidden on her finger suddenly became a few sizes too small. "Huh?
"What is the matter, Miss Potter?" Snape asked.
"Uh, one of my rings reacted to the vial," she told him. "Is it the poison?"
"Warning its wearer of poisons is a common attribute of heirship or lordship rings," he explained. "Disregard it for now and carry on with the lesson."
"Yes sir." She quaffed the vial down with only a little hesitation, waited long enough to grimace at the rising heat in her guts, and swallowed her antidote without further ado; to her immense relief the burning subsided immediately, and she retreated to her seat without a word.
"As the majority of you brewed an acceptable range of antidotes, you will have no homework for this week," Snape announced at the end, and everyone cheered. He allowed it to carry on a few moments before raising a hand for silence. "Those of you who missed the mark, write a foot and a half on how you failed, and brew a second antidote which we will test in private over the weekend. Class dismissed."
Hazel went into Muggle Studies with her scarf about her neck, hoping Professor Burbage would see and dreading what she'd say if she knew its meaning. And she noticed right away: "That's a pretty scarf, Miss Potter," she said brightly, as Hazel took her usual seat at the front of the class. "And hand-embroidered too! Someone must care for you very deeply!"
"Yes ma'am," she agreed with a smile. The thought made her feel as warm as the scarf about her neck did. "What are we discussing today?"
"We'll continue our examination of the Muggle financial system, in fact," the professor replied. That sounded easy enough, so Hazel got settled in.
Annoyingly, the week's Defense lesson came far too fast, and Hazel was dreading it sincerely. It didn't seem like he was going any easier on the Slytherins as a whole, which just made her all the more suspicious of his infrequent attempts to make nice with her specifically. And now they had to put up with the Imperius Curse! What would he make them do?
In spite of her nerves she was first in line, and took a seat at the front of the class. No sense letting on how she felt, after all. Moody was waiting for them, as usual. "Got a bit of a treat for you lot planned today, oh yes I do," he growled, his scarred face turning up in a disconcerting leer. "Gonna put you all under the Imperius Curse!"
"Sir, that's illegal!" Hermione said shrilly. "You said so in our first class!"
"So I did. Had to get permission from Dumbledore and the Ministry, had to get a minder too," and he nodded at the back of the class, where a tall black man with a golden earring in his left ear leaned against the wall. "Auror Shacklebolt, everyone!"
"Just Kingsley, please," the other Auror said, waving and smiling slightly.
Hazel recognized him as the one who had taken Lockhart into custody, but she didn't have time to think about it. "The Ministry has always tested Imperius resistance among students, though not until the sixth year," Moody went on. "I convinced Dumbledore that you're better off learning earlier, learning what it's like now rather than when someone's got you at the end of their wand who means you harm. You have my word I won't make any of you do anything compromising or embarrassing, even you Slytherins."
He pointed at the back of the room with one gnarled finger. "But it's also voluntary, so if you'd rather not be cursed, feel free to step to the back, it won't count against you." The tone of his voice said otherwise, though, and no one moved to leave.
Hazel wasn't worried for herself, she knew she could resist the Imperius Curse. Draco and Hermione should be fine too, as long as they got to use Occlumency; if they weren't, they were likely to have a harder time of it.
"Right then, let's get started." Moody beckoned them to the front one by one, and under Kingsley's supervision he put them under the Imperius Curse. Most of the class laughed as, one by one, their fellows did outlandish acrobatics, or sang various national anthems. Nothing embarrassing or compromising, as promised.
None of them could resist completely, either. More than a few Slytherins held Moody off for a few seconds, but he just cast the spell again and away they went; when this happened he would cast it again, and again, until they learned whatever trick it was that let them resist entirely.
To her surprise, Ron was the only Gryffindor who could throw it off eventually, and she wondered why she was surprised. Before she could try and rationalize why she felt that way, it was her turn to be cursed. "Potter, you're up," Moody growled, beckoning her forward.
She took a deep breath and went to the front, focusing firmly on her Occlumency. "Let's get it over with, sir," she muttered, staring back at him.
"Let's. Imperio!" he growled, flicking his wand. At first nothing happened, then she felt it as a slick, oily presence probing at her mental fortress.
"Is that it, sir?" she asked, feigning a yawn.
"Occlumency, eh?" He seemed amused by it. "A fine way to defend one's mind from attack, but if you're caught off guard it won't matter." The amusement faded from his expression then. "Drop your walls, then, so we can see how you do without them, hm?"
She looked over at Kingsley, who nodded reassuringly, and huffed a sigh. "Fine, one moment." Slowly she opened the fortress in her mind, giving Moody an opening to attack. "There."
He cursed her a second time, and she felt it then, that pervasive feeling of floating serenely on a cloud of happiness, every thought and worry gently brushed away. She heard his voice ordering her to jump on the desk, but she told him off, that was stupid, she'd much rather stand here swaying to this cloudy sensation…
He ordered her more strongly then, and she resisted harder, even as her knees bent in preparation. The more she resisted, the harder he pushed, the tighter she felt herself being compressed-
"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" she shouted, slashing blindly at the air before her with her wand. There was a thump of someone falling over, and shouts of alarm; she opened her eyes and saw Moody in a heap at the base of the wall, tangled up in his robes and struggling to stand.
"Alastor, are you alright?" Kingsley called, hurrying over to help him up.
"I'm fine," Moody growled, waving him off and hauling himself upright against the wall. "Quite the defense though, Potter. You've been cursed before, I take it?"
"Yes sir," she replied, rubbing her forehead with a grimace. Now she had a headache, wonderful. "Are we done, then?"
"Yeah, clear off."
Happily she retreated to her seat, focusing hard on Occlumency to isolate and wall off the headache. She barely paid attention to the rest of the class, except for when Draco and then Hermione were called up; Draco kept Moody out with Occlumency at first, and then had difficulty resisting without it, so he was cursed into halting, stilted jumping jacks four more times in a row until he could throw the curse off entirely.
Hermione, sadly, had no hope at all once she had to lower her barriers, and gave the class a lovely rendition of "God Save the Queen" before Moody dismissed her.
"Not bad, not bad," he told them once everyone had been cursed. "More of you could resist in this class than most of the others, for sure. Ten points for each of your houses." That was a surprise, and from the way her fellow snakes fell to whispering and chuckling, quite a welcome one for them too. Who'd imagine Moody would give points to Slytherin?
When class was dismissed Hazel followed her friends out the door, still wondering why she'd been surprised by Ron's success in throwing off the spell. Did she think so little of her friend? She didn't want to think she did, and spent a few moments trying to rationalize the feelings away.
Ron, she knew, was the second-youngest of seven goddamn kids, and he'd grown up in poverty too. Yes, his parents loved him, but with all those older brothers and a little sister to get more attention, along with the poverty thing, he probably knew himself pretty well, and he was naturally stubborn too.
"You did good in there, Ron," she said, knocking him on the shoulder. "No Dark wizard's gonna get you in his clutches!"
"Me? You did alright too," he replied modestly.
"And so did you, Draco. You must have been practicing?"
"Yes, with Snape," he explained. "Moody meant business though, that Curse is nasty!"
"You don't say," she countered drolly. She heard a sniffle at her other side and looked over to see Hermione looking distraught; only part of it was because she hadn't been top in the lesson today, she suspected. "Alright, Hermione?"
"No," Hermione sniffed. "Can't believe he got it over on me after I had to drop my Occlumency…"
"Just keep working on it, that's all you can do," she said bracingly, and her friend smiled slightly. "Shall we?"
Notes:Moody handing out points, who would have thought.