Hogwarts: I Am Such a Model Wizard

Chapter 477: Defense Against the Dark Arts

The next morning, the storm that had raged on since their arrival finally cleared. Kyle and Kanna headed to the Great Hall for breakfast and to review their new schedules.

“Hey, look! We don’t have Potions for a few days!” Mikel exclaimed, as if he’d stumbled on the best news of the year.

“Neither do we,” Cedric added, spreading out his timetable. “Hmm… my first Potions lesson isn’t scheduled until next Wednesday.”

“Same for us!” Hannah chimed in. “We don’t have Potions until next Friday.”

Cedric stood up in confusion and walked down the long Hufflepuff table, comparing schedules with other students. To his surprise, he discovered that not a single year group had Potions this week—his was the earliest, and that was still a full eight days away.

“This seems strange for all seven years,” Cedric mused. He turned to Kanna and lowered his voice. “Do you know anything about this? Is Professor Snape… not at school?”

“He has other matters to attend to and might not be able to teach for a few days,” Kanna replied. “Not long after the holidays started, Professor Dumbledore came to see him. Since then, he’s hardly left his home, and he hasn’t allowed me in, so I don’t really know what’s going on.”

She glanced briefly at Kyle, who was quietly sipping his pumpkin juice. She had a feeling he might know something about Dumbledore’s visit to Snape, especially since Kyle had seemed unusually well-informed during the Quidditch World Cup—particularly when it came to the House-elf, Kreacher. But Kyle simply continued eating in silence, so Kanna left it alone.

As for the other students, the idea of having a week off from Potions was enough to keep them satisfied, and no one seemed too bothered about Snape’s absence. Mikel happily raised his pumpkin juice like it was champagne, reveling in the unexpected reprieve.

Just then, a flurry of wings filled the hall as hundreds of owls swooped through the open windows, delivering the morning mail. A brown owl dropped The Daily Prophet in front of Kyle, who poured it some cornflakes before unfolding the newspaper.

The front page was once again focused on the aftermath of the Quidditch World Cup. Former Ministry of Magic Employee Yaxley Sentenced to Azkaban for Use of Unforgivable Curses. The article included several photos from the trial. In one, Yaxley appeared wild-eyed and disheveled, his perfectly combed hair now sticking up like a neglected school broom. Another showed him being dragged away by Aurors.

“Ha! I knew it—they weren’t getting away with that,” Cedric said from beside him. “I heard Bill mention that someone cast two Cruciatus Curses on Mr. Weasley. It had to be him.”

“Yeah, no doubt,” Kyle agreed, folding up the newspaper and glancing across the hall toward the Slytherin table.

Malfoy sat there, his face paler than usual, reading The Daily Prophet with a grim expression. Crabbe and Goyle, normally focused only on their breakfast, were similarly fixated on the newspaper, barely touching their food.

After breakfast, the group left the Great Hall and headed to their first class.

“Defense Against the Dark Arts…” Kanna mused. “I wonder what Professor Moody is like.”

“He can’t be that bad,” Cedric said as they walked. “Professor Moody’s a legendary Auror. They say he put half of Azkaban’s inmates behind bars. A man like that has to have real skills.”

“I hope so,” said Mikel doubtfully. After Lockhart, he wasn’t putting too much faith in anyone’s reputation. He figured they’d see soon enough in the classroom.

Cedric parted ways on the third floor, heading to Transfiguration, while Kyle and the others continued to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Though class hadn’t started yet, a good number of students had already arrived, eager to see what Professor Moody had in store.

Kyle found an empty row of seats at the back, and they took out their copies of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection while they waited.

Soon, they heard the unmistakable stomping footsteps approaching from the hallway. The chattering immediately died down, and the room went silent.

Before the bell even rang, Professor Moody strode into the room, his electric blue magical eye swiveling around in every direction. He looked as intimidating as he had the night before.

“Put away your books,” he said in his gruff voice. “I went through them last night, and there’s nothing in there you’ll need. They’re fine for younger years, but not for you.”

Everyone quickly stashed their books, some clearly thrilled. They’d learned from experience that when a professor ditched the textbook on the first day, the course usually turned out to be intense and interesting—like Lupin’s lessons the previous year.

Moody walked to the front, took out a roll call sheet, and began taking attendance. His normal eye scanned the list while his magical eye whirled around, scrutinizing each student as they responded.

“Alright,” he said when the last student had answered. “Before I arrived, I got a letter from Professor Lupin explaining the status of this course.”

Moody’s lips twisted in a frown. “I don’t mean to disparage him, but I don’t see why Lupin wasted a year teaching you about Dark creatures. That’s second-year material, if you ask me. After all, dark wizards don’t carry around dangerous animals. They have wands.”

Kyle rolled his eyes, muttering to himself, Not everyone needs a wand. Tell that to Newt Scamander’s face.

Oblivious, Moody continued, “Now that I’m here, it’s my duty to prepare you for what happens when wizards turn their spells on each other. So, let’s talk about dark magic. Specifically, Curses.”

Everyone immediately sat up, intrigued. Most of them had had their fill of lectures on dark creatures and were more than ready for something new.

“Let’s get started, then,” Moody said with a dry chuckle. “Spells come in many forms, varying in power. Some are legal; others, like Curses, are not. These we call Dark magic. Can anyone name a Curse?”

A Gryffindor raised his hand. “The Cruciatus Curse?”

“Ah, yes,” Moody said, his voice dropping to a dangerous tone. “The Unforgivable Curses—the most evil Curses of all. Use one of these on another wizard, and you’re looking at life in Azkaban.”

Moody flashed a menacing grin. “I imagine some of you read about this curse in the paper this morning.”

The student nodded, wide-eyed.

“Precisely,” Moody sneered. “That idiot claimed he was under the Imperius Curse. Such a weak excuse—I wouldn’t even have to be there to know he was lying. And speaking of which, the Imperius Curse is another Unforgivable Curse.”

He turned to a Gryffindor girl. “Miss Maryanne, I imagine you’ve studied this. Can you tell us the name of the third Unforgivable Curse?”