greyheart; year 4↳h.potter x reader

𝙄𝙄𝙄𝙓. 𝙙𝙚𝙛𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙚 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙧

The stairs to the Defense class felt oddly steeper than they had last year. I wanted to hope the doors would swing open to reveal Lupin leaning against the desk telling us of news of a now innocent Sirius Black, but I knew it was silly.

"I've heard he ate a kid once," Ron whispered to Neville as we approached the door, the poor boy's face paled like parchment.

"Don't listen to him Neville," Hannah laid her hand on his shoulder, "you can't eat kids if you don't have teeth."

"Will you both stop," the two left giggling into the classroom, holding their hands over their chest as they found empty seats.

"I'm- I'm fine (Y/N)."

"I know," I looped my arm throughout his own, leaning slightly on his side as we both approached the back of the class. Hermione and Hannah sat on the bench above us, Ron and Harry were in deep conversation, so I simply brushed it off and took the seat beside Neville.

"You don't have to sit with me," he shrugged, setting his bag beside him and resting his arms on the table before him.

"I know," I turned in my chair slightly, "can you help me with my plant for Herbology?"

Neville looked up from his arms, smiling and nodding his head confidently. He rested his chin back on his sweater-clad arm right as the doors to the back of the class swung open dramatically.

Mad-Eye-Moody.

The "child eating, toothless" DADA teacher in question. His wooden leg slammed against the cobblestone floor of the classroom, drawing every bit of attention to him as his face came into view. He was scary, watching you like a hawk from his one in-larged eye as if you were committing a crime. Maybe it was part of the job, being so scared people would leave the bank alone and don't follow the Dark Lord, but it didn't work.

"Bet it's not pumpkin juice in that flask," Seamus whispered to Dean, little giggles falling from his lips without a second thought.

"Eyebrows grow back in Finnigan?"

The giggles disappear in thin air, the classroom silent as Mad-Eye Moody scribbled away on the chalkboard behind him. Neville's finger gripped the tables tight, his knuckles pale white as he watched the back of his head. I wondered if the rumors Hannah and Ron had joked about were true.

Who was teaching us exactly?

"I am only here because Dumbledore asked it of me," he spun around, "that's the end, goodbye."

I shifted in my seat, feeling the room grow stuffy by the seconds. Was this how it would feel from the rest of the year? Horrified to even move incorrectly so you don't get cursed by your own teacher. I thought Neville was going to break the table with his white knuckles, beads of sweat slowly running down his forehead.

"Now, on with class," Moody spun around, "who can tell me how many Unforgivable Curses there are?"

I suddenly felt a small lump form in my throat, panic setting as Hermione's voice echoed off the walls.

"Three, sir."

She didn't even raise her hand, simply answering the question with a waver to her voice.

"And they are named so because?" He didn't bother waiting for an answer, turning to write on the chalkboard behind him.

"Because using them is unforgivable and will get you sent-"

"Get you sent straight to Azkaban," his voice was rage-filled and he finished writing the name of the three curses across the side. Neville energy must've projected itself onto me as I felt my hands slowly grow clammy. I could've sworn Hermione said this was a Seventh Year lesson, we were just kids.