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Ch350- Wretched!
Ch350- Wretched!
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Moody turned back to the class, still holding the twitching spider between his fingers. "The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I’ll be teaching you how. But it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can."
His voice suddenly rose. "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he barked, making several students jump again. He tossed the spider back into the jar, slammed the lid shut, and shoved it aside.
"Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?"
Harry’s eyes flicked toward Neville, who was sitting rigidly in his seat, his hands clenched into fists on the desk. Moody’s question seemed to hang in the air, unanswered for a moment too long. Then Harry leaned slightly toward Neville and said quietly, "Stare ahead and say it."
Neville didn’t move at first, but after a second, he unclenched his fists and raised his hand slightly. Moody’s normal eye settled on him, while his magical one continued its restless spin.
"The Cruciatus Curse," Neville said, his voice steady despite the tension in his posture.
Moody gave a small nod. "Your name?"@@@@
"Neville Longbottom."
"Ah," Moody said slowly, a note of something unreadable in his tone. "Longbottom."
Several students glanced curiously at Neville, but Moody didn’t give them time to dwell on it. He reached into the jar again, pulling out another spider, and set it down on the desk in front of him.
"The Cruciatus Curse," Moody said, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative. "One of the darkest spells in existence. Causes unbearable pain. You wouldn’t know which way was up by the time it’s done with you."
"The Cruciatus Curse," he continued. "Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea," he said, pointing his wand at the spider. "Engorgio!" The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula.
Abandoning all pretense, Ron pushed his chair backward, as far away from Moody's desk as possible.
Without warning, Moody pointed his wand at the spider and muttered, "Crucio."
"Not nice," he said calmly. "Not pleasant. And there's no countercurse. There's no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he's sitting right in front of me."
Harry smirked. "You’re wrong, Professor."
Moody’s magical eye locked onto him, squinting slightly as his real one narrowed. "What do you mean, Mr. Potter?" he asked in a low growl, clearly expecting an answer that would challenge his authority.
Harry leaned back casually, his smirk widening just enough to irritate the imposter further. “You said there’s no countercurse for the Killing Curse—no way to stop it. But that’s not entirely true, is it?”
The class was dead silent. All eyes turned toward Harry, confusion, curiosity, and unease rippling through the students. Even Hermione, who had been tense since the start of the lesson, looked more puzzled than worried now.
“Go on, Potter,” Moody said, his voice gruff. There was something dangerous in the way he spoke, like he didn’t appreciate being corrected in front of the class. His magical eye spun wildly, locking onto Harry again, as if trying to read more than what was being said.
Harry tapped the edge of his desk lazily with one finger before replying, “Transfiguration, if timed perfectly, can block it. I’m sure you’ve read about those cases where someone turned a nearby object into a shield just in time. It’s not exactly reliable, but it’s been done.”
Moody’s lips twisted into what might have been a grin or a grimace—it was hard to tell with his scarred face. “Theoretically, yes. But I doubt you’ll find many wizards quick enough to pull it off in the heat of the moment.”
Harry’s smirk widened slightly. “Perhaps, but you didn’t say anything about theory, did you? You just said it was unstoppable.”
Moody grunted, clearly irritated but unable to outright deny Harry’s point. Before he could respond, Harry continued, his voice calm but with an edge of amusement. “And there’s the little matter of what my mother did. That ritual she used—ancient magic—managed to stop the curse and even rebound it. Isn’t that how she killed that wretched Voldemort?”
The mention of Voldemort’s name caused a ripple of discomfort through the room. Several students flinched, and Ron looked like he was about to say something but decided against it. Moody’s magical eye stopped spinning, locking firmly on Harry, as if trying to pierce through him.
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