-Immer Ende-

-Chapter✦ThirtyTwo-

✧AN OVERWHELMING AFTERNOON✧

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Cara dragged her feet towards the Dark Arts room, there had been a few bustling rumors from the last few classes. But even as she turned towards Ronan, he seemed to have an ill stomach as well.

"Mum said we can join the American classes if things get too much. Didn't think Crawford would really let this man teach his students." Cara nodded to her brother's words, but still found it strange.

Lori was not yet born when all this was had taken place, hell, even she was barely a thought. It bothered the two that they hardly recalled their lives in Britain before their run away to America, but it wasn't as awful as Lori—She was the only one who never met father until his release.

There was a time that Rabastan wasn't sure that Lori was his, and instead was Proctor's, making the strain to fester in the beginning of their relationship.

"We'll make it worthwhile, could still learn good things from an Auror," Cara whispered back and Ronan of course nodded. Though the tension in his stomach did not stop even after settling in the classroom.

"Hello, Neville." She greeted the Gryffindor already sitting while her brother followed in pursuit just beside her. "Hiya Cara, did you get a chance to check out the club Professor Sprout's offered up?" She shook her head as he took the moment to explain it, and it was expected to be a bigger outcome now with the addition of three other schools with them.

However, their conversation was interrupted with the quicker stomps of their new professor. And he settled the rest with a quickened thud of a book onto the front desk.

The title she was familiar with as it was their assigned textbook for this class, rather brilliant author if she had anything to say about it.

"I see you all slogged down to Flourish & Blotts like good little boys and girls and bought the textbook. Congratulations...It'll make a fine doorstep." Ronan looked down at the textbook in damnation, and a bit of hatred that he had already taken a leaser reading when Cara said she liked the author.

"...I'm Alastor Moody, ex-Auror, Ministry malcontent, and your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I'm here because Dumbledore asked me. End of story, goodbye, the end...Any questions?" Moody's eyes manage to scan the classroom all at once. And Cara shivered when it came back towards her—Landing on the entirety of their row.

Perhaps sitting next to Neville today was an awful choice.

"When it comes to the Dark Arts, I believe in a practical approach. You may wonder what I mean by that. I'll show you. But first, which of you can tell me...How many Unforgiveable Curses there are?" The students started to glance at one another, and Cara looked to Ronan.

They didn't know what to expect, but this surely wasn't it.

"I might've known...Go on, Granger."

"There are three, sir—How did you know..."

"Your name? I know a bit more than that. You're top of your class—Or almost is that correct?" Cara felt the attention return back towards her from both Moody and Hermione, but this was ultimately worse.

Gods, she felt her stomach recoil for the fifth time this class.

"Yes sir."

"Muggle-born?...I'm not about to walk into a room full of strangers without doing background. Constant Vigilance!" Moody jabbed his staff into the floor, having the entire class jump at the sound.