"Maybe it's because he acted differently in one future than in another?"
"Maybe. I think we should be wary around him, just to be safe."
"You're right. I was a little off the mark with Cedric at the World Cup, but I'm pretty sure now it's the Triwizard Tournament that he'll have problems with. I might be misinterpreting things again," said Harry. They decided to wait until their first class with Professor Moody to see what kind of person he was. The talk and excitement for everyone else over the Triwizard Tournament and their new DADA professor didn't end when the feast did, with everyone chattering away until curfew. Harry, though, had to see his headmaster and head of house.
"Harry, please tell me everything you remember about the... dream you had in the summer?" Harry was sitting directly across from Professor Dumbledore, in his office.
Don't you think I could recall it better if we had discussed this a month ago? Harry thought snidely. At least he had the chance to experience it twice to get a really good idea. "I was inside Voldemort's body, which was about the size of an infant. Pettigrew was nearby, calling him master and setting up some kind of ritual. He spoke in Parseltongue to his snake, telling her to sit at the center of a diagram on the floor. A muggle man, probably the caretaker of the mansion Voldemort was hiding in, told him to get out, but he was then murdered."
"Thank you, Harry. Are there any more specifics that seemed to stand out?" Dumbledore asked as he stroked his beard in thought.
" The muggle man mentioned that the place was called Riddle Manor. I think I might also be able to draw out a little bit of the diagram on the floor, too. Could I have a quill and parchment?" When Dumbledore gave it to him, Harry began sketching what he could remember. He only got a clear look at a few of the runes on the ground, barely more than five or six out of several hundred that were part of the elaborate ritual, but he did remember the general layout. Handing the parchment back to Dumbledore, he said, "That's really all I could remember. The snake sat in the middle of that. The vision ended right when he cast Avada Kedavra at the muggle man." Harry put extra emphasis on vision, because he was absolutely certain of what he experienced.
"Ah... yes..." murmured Dumbledore as he continued to study the drawing Harry handed back to him. "This is certainly far more detailed than a mere dream. Are you certain about this diagram here?"
"Absolutely," Harry answered with only a word, watching his headmaster's face. Dumbledore clearly recognized and feared the ritual that Voldemort performed.
"Very well. I must admit your ability to remember a few of the runes surprised me. Most students who have not studied the subject would remember little but a few squiggles."
"Actually, I have studied them, all summer. I wanted to ask you about switching courses," Harry said. "I'd like to drop Divination, and take Ancient Runes instead."
"Oh?" Dumbledore looked surprised. "Most people drop the harder course to take something easier, not the other way around. Are you sure about this?"
"Yes, sir," Harry answered. "I've studied with Hermione's notes and I think it's a far more useful subject than divination. The benefits are far more... predictable. Concrete, if you will."
"I have to admit that divination is far more of a woolly subject. I do prefer my socks to be nice and woolly, but not my facts. This vision, however, seems to show you have an aptitude for the subject, though. I will ask you once more. Are you sure you'd like to drop Divination?"
"With all due respect to Professor Trelawney, I don't think her lessons helped me receive that vision this summer. If I were to have another one, I think I'd get it whether taking Divination or not, so I'd rather just drop it and learn runes instead," Harry answered firmly.
"Very well, Harry. I will inform Professor McGonagall tomorrow, and you should receive your new schedule by dinnertime." Harry was dismissed from Dumbledore's office, and all the twinkle was gone from the old man's eyes.
Their first chance to see Professor Moody in person as the fourth-year Defense professor was on Tuesday. The classroom was empty, but it had been redecorated like Harry had never seen before. The entire classroom was covered with foe-glasses, sneakoscopes, probity probes and other monitoring devices that covered nearly every wall, including the ceiling and some parts of the floors. Most of the students were baffled by this, and even the ones who had heard of Moody's reputation for paranoia were surprised at how far he took it. They all nervously sat down, waiting for Professor Moody to make an appearance.
Suddenly, a closet at the back of the room flew open, and Moody was standing there with his wand raised. "Incarcerous! Incarcerous!" He began to throwing the rope-binding spell from behind everyone. The first few were caught unawares, and were immediately tied up. A few others managed to face Moody before they were caught, but went down within seconds. Several others froze in surprise or fear once they realized what was happening, and Moody also seemed to target them first, which included Neville and Ron. It wasn't until he wrapped up nearly a third of the students that the others began to scramble away, diving to the floor or hiding behind the desks. Harry was one of the first to shield himself with a desk, and Hermione followed suit. Unfortunately, he dropped his wand in the process, and it took several seconds for him to pick it up again. He threw off the same combination of hexes he used on Draco at the end of last year- Silencio, Petrificus Totalus, and Incarcerous.
Immediately, Moody stopped attacking the class. Evidently, none of the spells actually managed to hit him, as he strode to the front of the room while shouting at the class. "It's about time, you lazy moppets! What class do you think this is?" He scanned the entire class, while his fake eye seemed to be glaring at the ones who were bound in ropes.
"Um... Defense Against Dark Arts? Sir?" came a meek voice from the back.
"Correct! Now, how on earth do you sack of potatoes think you can defend yourself against the Dark Arts if you're never prepared? I've seen Mexican jumping beans move faster than you! CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" He barked out the last two words, making everyone jump. He continued to berate the entire class. "I took down three of you before anyone even thought to turn figure out why. I took down a third of you before the rest figured out you had to run. I was halfway through the entire class before someone was smart enough to try and stop me! Now, who's the one who gave me the Dueller's Hello?"
Harry raised his hand. "It was me... err, what do you mean by the Dueller's Hello?"
"Good lad, even if you were a bit slow on the uptake. It's called that because it's the first thing that comes out of most dueller's mouths. You're telling me you threw that combination of spells without learning what it actually is?" Moody was eyeing him carefully, with both his eyes.
"Err... no, it just knew I needed to stop you somehow, and those spells just seemed really easy to cast one after the other," Harry said. He knew he must have trained himself sometime in one of his past futures, but he honestly couldn't remember when exactly he learned or practiced it.
"Then you've certainly got some natural talent for duelling, but what took you so long to get those spells off?"
"Err... I dropped my wand when I ducked behind the desk."
"And where do you keep your wand, boy?"
"In my pocket..." Harry began to think that was a very wrong answer.
"Your POCKET? Where do you plan to cast all your spells, the floor? Who else keeps their wands in their pockets?" Several students meekly raised their hands. "I certainly hope that those of you who aren't raising your hands are keeping your wands someplace better!" He looked over at Su Li, one of the Ravenclaws. "You! Draw your wand!" He immediately began throwing stinging hexes at the girl, who apparently left her wand in her book bag. Flinching and wincing from the pain the entire way, Moody shot off at least fifteen hexes before she managed to finally get her wand in hand.
Moody shook his head in disappointment. "Fifteen hexes! Every one of those could have been a stunner, a slicer, a bludgeoner, a petrifying curse, or even a killing curse. You would have been dead fifteen times over if I wasn't such a kind and gentle old man." He heard a suppressed snort of laughter from the other side of the room. Malfoy and his little band of Slytherins were apparently laughing at the Ravenclaw's misfortune.
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