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"END OF STORY."Professor Alastor Moody slammed his wand upon the oak desk. "When it comes to the Dark Arts, I believe in a more practical approach." The man took a swig from a small flask, his glass eye searching the room, once again honing in on Eliza.
"Good Lord, a Cawthorne," he spat, searching the girl's eyes for a reaction, "who's your mother?"
"Natalie."
His eye seemed to twitch in its patch, Moody's face wrung up in disgust, "and your name?"
"Eliza," she squirmed in her chair uncomfortably.
"Well Eliza, can you tell me how many Unforgivable Curses are there?"
She swallowed, fear consuming her at the sole mention of Dark Magic. "Three, professor." He seemed to turn to Hermione Granger, squirming uncomfortably in her seat.
"Miss Hermione Granger, second in her class, Miss Cawthorne no doubt being the first," Moody turned his head to the frizzy-haired girl, "naturally inquisitive, socially inept," he paused, "and muggle-born. Why are they so named, Miss Granger?"
"B-because they are unforgivable, sir. The use of any one of them will..."
"Earn you a one-way ticket to Azkaban, correct! The Ministry," his eye shot to Ron, "says you're too young to see what these curses do. I say, you need to know what you're up against! Ronald Weasley!" The professor growled.
Ron squeaked, sinking down in his chair, and Eliza snorted.
What a child, Eliza thought to herself.
"Give me a curse." Moody walked over to the desk, a large spider crawling up his arm.
"Um, my dad was telling me about the Imperius Curse." The redhead looked around, as if scared he'd be in trouble at the mention of such Dark Magic. That, and, he hates spiders.
Moody sighed, "I suppose he would know a lot about that one! Gave the Ministry quite a bit of grief a few years ago, perhaps this will show you why. Imperio!"
Moody flicked his wand, the spider following every flick and lift. Eliza watched as the spider danced across the heads of their classmates, until it came straight for him. Shrieking, he turned to the one closest to him, "get it off! Get it off!"
Eliza Cawthorne was an aspirant young girl, taking any and all opportunities that surfaced. Reeling her hand backward, her palm went straight for Ronald Weasley's cheek, a year of betrayal and anger behind the punch she packed. The spider didn't budge, classmates and Moody alike howling with laughter. Ron winced in pain.
"Bloody hell, Lizzy!"
Lizzy, the nickname neither of them had heard in a while.
