Black and White

9

"I am Alastor Moody," the man introduces himself in our first lesson. "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?"

No one raises their hands.

"When it comes to the dark arts," he continues, "I believe in a practical approach. But first, who can tell me how many Unforgivable Curses there are?"

"Three," Maisie answers. "There's three, sir, I think."

"Correct," Moody praises. "And they are so named?" When no one answers, he says, "Because the use of any will earn you a one-way ticket to Azkaban. The Ministry says you're 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. So, which curse shall we see first? Turley, stand. Give us a curse."

Evelyn stands from the back of the class. "The Imperious Curse," she sighs, looking down.

Professor Moody takes a spider from a jar on his desk and enlarges it. "Imperio," he says.

He makes the spider dance around the room. Kids laugh, but I keep my face blank. I know where this must be going.

"What shall I make her do next?" Moody questions. "Jump out the window? Drown herself? Scores of witches and wizards have claimed that they only did You-Know-Who's bidding under the influence of the Imperious Curse. But here's the rub: how do we sort out the liars?" He looks around at us all, before his eyes settle on me. "Miss Black," he says. "Stand up. How is your father, eh?"

"I wouldn't know, sir," I state blandly. "You're not the first to ask, and you won't be the last, but I haven't seen my dad since I was a baby."

"Very well, then," Moody replies. "Give us a curse, then. Raised by Lestrange, you ought to know one."

I fail to hold back a glare. How rude can he be? But I know what he wants me to say, and I'd rather his frustrations be turned on the spider than me or another student.

"The Cruciatus Curse," I say solemnly.

"Ah, yes," Moody replies. "The torture curse. Particularly nasty. Come, come here." He leads me to his desk, where he sets the spider down. "Crucio."

The spider begins writhing in pain, and I hear only the squeaking that is the creature's screams. I feel bad for it. I know how it feels. I close my eyes, but I can't drown out the sound of the screaming.

As the first tear falls, I run out of the classroom and race all the way down the spiral staircase. At the bottom, I run into someone tall, and they catch me.

"Lucy, what happened?" Fred asks, but I shake my head, burying my face in his robes. I don't really want to talk about it, with anyone. Fred sighs and holds me tightly.

"You just came from Moody's class, didn't you?" George guesses.

I nod. They will want an answer. "He-he made me stand at the front, wh-while he used the C-cruciatus curse... on the spider," I stutter out.

The twins lead me to an empty classroom and sit me down on a desk.

"Lucy, look at me," Fred whispers. "You need to talk. Where have you seen that curse before? It wouldn't effect you like this if you hadn't seen it."

I try to look away, but Fred holds my gaze. My tears start to fall again.

"My mo- I mean Bellatrix-" I start. "She and Lucius Malfoy. Th-they've used it on me. Ever since I caught Draco's hair on fire when we were little. When I first said I didn't want to work for You-Know-Who. It was worse this summer."

The twins stare at me for a moment, before wrapping me in their arms, letting me cry.

"We need to get Moody to quit messing with the younger kids," George states, resting his chin on my head. "He did the same thing to Neville yesterday."

"I wonder if he likes dungbombs," Fred thinks aloud and I can't help but laugh. "Maybe we could charm it to spell out words. Say something like 'we're kids, not Death Eaters'."

"That could work," George grins, and he goes on to talk about how this could become their biggest prank to date.

"Well, if you're feeling better, class is over," Fred tells me. "We think we figured a way to put our names in the Goblet."

"Yeah, you should come with us," George continues. "See their faces when we cheat the system!"

The next few minutes consist of the three of us running through the rain to reach the Great Hall, where the Goblet sits, surrounded by an enchanted ring. People are crowded around and cheering.

"Yeah!" the twins cheer as we run in.

"Well, lads, we've done it," George tells the other students.

"Cooked it up just this morning!" Fred finishes.

"It's not going to work," Hermione tells them as I sit beside her.

"Oh, yeah?" Fred smirks.

"And why's that, Granger?" George asks.

"You see this?" Hermione indicates the ring around the Goblet. "This is an Age Line. Dumbledore drew it himself."

"So?" Fred questions smugly.

"So," Hermione explains, closing her book in exasperation. "A genius like Dumbledore couldn't possibly be fooled by something as pathetically dimwitted as an Aging Potion."

"That's why it's so brilliant," Fred tells her.

"Because it's so pathetically dimwitted," George grins. "Ready, Fred?"

"Ready, George," Fred answers.

"Bottoms up," they say, intertwining their arms and downing the potions. Together, they jump over the Age Line. "Yes!" they cheer when nothing happens. The two put their names in, cheering once more.

That is, until the fire shoots out and throws them out of the Line. When they sit up, they both have grey hair and matching beards and mustaches.

"You said!" They both accuse, before tackling each other on the ground.

"Oi, you want a piece of me?" George yells.

"I'll rip your ears off!" Fred threatens.

"We're 'old school', right?" George asks.

"Yeah, but you look older," Fred answers.

They stop fighting, however, when Victor Krum, from Durmstrang enters the Great Hall. He puts his name in the Goblet, before turning, giving a glance at Hermione, and walking away.

"He likes you," I whisper to Hermione. She elbows me, but smiles as she returns to her book.

On Thurday, we are all surprised when four names come out of the goblet. Victor Krum. Fleur Delacour. Cedric Diggory. And Harry Potter.

Harry swears to me that he doesn't know how his name got into the goblet, and I believe him. Not many people do, though.