Can A Phoenix Love A Lion? (Hermione Granger x Male Reader)

37. The Champions

"Alastor Moody."

These were the first words of the first Defence Against the Dark Arts class of the year. Then Moody turned his back to the class and, while writing his name on the blackboard, said, "Ex-Auror—Ministry malcontent—and your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. I am here because Dumbledore asked me. End of story, goodbye, the end. Any questions?"

There were none. Everyone in the classroom was sitting still, their copies of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection out on their desks, and waited.

"You can put those away," Moody growled, "those books. You won't need them."

They returned the books to their bags.

"Right then," he said when the last person had put their book into their bag. "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures—you've covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?"

There was a general murmur of assent.

"But you're behind—very behind—on dealing with curses," Moody said. "So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other."

He gave a harsh laugh, and then clapped his gnarled hands together.

"So—when it comes to the Dark Arts, I believe in a practical approach. But first, which of you can tell me how many Unforgivable Curses there are?"

Hermione's hand rose tentatively next to Y/N. "Three, sir."

"And they are so named?"

This time Y/N raised his hand. "Because they're unforgivable. The use of any one of them will—"

"—earn you a one-way ticket to Azkaban," Moody growled. "Correct.

"Now, the Ministry says you're too young to see what these curses do. According to them, I'm supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. I SAY DIFFERENT!" he barked, and everyone jumped. "How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared! You need to be alert and watchful. You need to find another place to put your chewing gum besides the underside of your desk, Mr Finnigan!"

Y/N turned with the whole class as Seamus jumped on his seat. Apparently Moody's magical eye could see through solid wood, even when he was facing the blackboard and not them.

"No way," Seamus muttered. "The old codger can see out the back of his head."

Moody wheeled around and threw a piece of chalk right at Seamus's forehead. "And hear across classrooms!"

He got his hip flask and took a sip from it.

"So . . . which curse should we see first?"

Several hands rose slowly into the air. Moody pointed at Ron, though his magical eye was still fixed on Seamus.

"Er," Ron said tentatively, "my dad told me about one. . . . The Imperius Curse."

"Oh, yes," Moody said appreciatively. "Your father would know all about that. Gave the Ministry quite a bit of grief a few years ago. Perhaps this will show you why."

Moody opened his desk drawer and took out a glass jar. A large black spider was scuttling around inside it. Hermione turned to Y/N—he needn't her to speak to know what she was thinking: He's not going to do that, not really?