The Gryffindor Royal - Year Four

Chapter Seven

RIP Robbie Coltrane, the best Hagrid we could've asked for; you will not be forgotten /*

After the feast from every first night back at school, Hermione was the first person to hurry back to her dorm, not waiting for anyone, even Shelena or (Y/N). She unpacked her bags quickly and pulled out some of her textbooks, flipping to where she'd stopped in the holidays, eager for a head start. Secretly, Hermione wished she hadn't committed her life to being such a perfect student, for she hadn't known how stressful it'd be after a while. "This barely makes sense!" Hermione whispered into the silence, as she read and reread the same paragraph over and over, hoping it'd have some sort of effect, but it didn't.

She sat holed up on her bed even when her friends came in a couple minutes later, not bothering to greet them. And Hermione certainly wasn't going to bother greeting Lavender or Parvati, both of whom had shunned Shelena for being the daughter of Sirius Black. Hermione sat hunched up for at least two hours, and when her roommates turned off the lights to go to bed she drew the curtains around her bed, cast a Silencing Charm and continued her work by the light of her wand, determined to understand her concepts before she allowed herself to go to bed.

                             •  •  •  •  •  •  •

"Alastor Moody," the ex-Auror introduced as he clunked his way to the front of the classroom. After the first night back, it was revealed that Mad-Eye was the new Defence teacher at Hogwarts, although nobody believed that he'd be more interesting than Remus Lupin, who was a favourite amongst the students. "Ex-Auror... Ministry malcontent..." Moody went on, snapping (Y/N) back to reality as she looked up at the blackboard. "I'm your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. I am here because Dumbledore asked me. End of story, goodbye, the end."

After that rather... dark-seeming introduction, the fourth-years exchanged confused and terrified glances, while Moody asked if anyone had questions. No one raised their hand, so Moody went on. "When it comes to the Dark Arts, I believe in a practical approach." That caught everyone's attention, as more glances were exchanged. "This is defence, what 'practical approach' of the Dark Arts is he on about?" Shelena hissed to (Y/N) who was behind her . The latter shook her head signifying she didn't know. "Dad always said Moody'd gone batty, but I never knew to what extent," she replied.

Moody cleared his throat for attention, which he got in an instant. "First, which of you can tell me how many Unforgivable Curses there are?" No surprise, Hermione answered, "Three, sir." "And they are so named?" Moody pressed, moving toward the blackboard once again. "Because they are unforgivable," she went on, her voice cracking with emotion. "The use of any one of them will-" "Will land you a one-way ticket to Azkaban. Correct. Now, the Ministry says you are too young to see what these curses do. I say different! You need to know what you're up against! You need to be prepared,"

His magical eye swivelled noisily as Moody turned so that his back was facing the class, and everyone thought he couldn't see them. That is, until he said, "You need to find another place to put your chewing gum besides the underside of your desk, Mr. Finnigan!" Moody said loudly, as everyone turned to look at Seamus and he groaned annoyedly. "No way. The old codger can see out the back of his head!" That 'old codger' turned around and grabbed the first thing in front of him — a stub of chalk that he was planning to write with — and threw it toward Seamus, as the students in front of him gasped and ducked.

"And hear across classrooms!" Moody revealed, as everyone shut their mouths and turned back to the front. "So," Mad-Eye began in a slightly calmer voice. "Which curse shall we see first? Hm, Weasley!" "Yes?" Both twins jumped and looked up at the professor from their seats, not too sure which one Moody was referring to. "You. Stand!" Moody jerked his finger to Ron, who stood up shakily. (Y/N) heaved a sigh of relief, thankful she had not been called. "Give us a curse," Moody told Ron, who kept going paler by the minute.