Being His Daughter

Durmstrang and Beauxbatons

Junior made sure that our first Defense Against the Dark Arts class was memorable. In his mind, he thought it would be a great (not-at-all-suspicious) idea to show us how to do the three Unforgivable Curses by demonstrating on spiders. What was even more memorable, though, was the look on all the Gryffindor's faces when Pansy the Plant entered the classroom. She had glowered at me, but I had ignored her as I tried to stop myself from chuckling at the look of amusement on Junior's face when he studied her from the front of the class. 

Our next class with Junior—or Moody...whatever—he had decided to kick it up a notch and actually perform the Imperious Curse on us. 

"But you told us it was illegal!" Hermione exclaimed. Junior simply waved his wand and all the desks slammed into the corner, making several of the students jump as we stood huddled toward the back. It left a large and clear space in the middle and vaguely reminded me of our first lesson with Lupin last year.

"Dumbledore wants you to know what it feels like," Junior responded gruffly, "but if you would rather learn the hard way, when someone is using the curse to actually take full control of you, then go ahead and leave." He gestured to the door. 

Hermione stared at him in astonishment before wildly shaking her head and looking down at the floor. 

"Right. Come on," Junior said, beckoning us all forward impatiently. Everyone uneasily shuffled towards the center, while Draco and I sauntered toward the front with our group without a care in the world. "Finnigan, you first."

Each student went up one by one, and Junior performed the curse on them, shouting at them to try to resist it. No one could until it was finally Harry's turn. When he got up there and Junior nonverbally performed the curse on him, the Death Eaters eyes strained as he concentrated on making Harry do what he wished. 

Harry looked right about to hop up onto a desk when he suddenly stopped halfway through the jump and slammed his head into the corner of it instead. 

"That's more like it!" Junior exclaimed vigorously. "See that? He almost beat it! You have to fight! Well done, Potter!" 

Harry stumbled toward Ron and Hermione, holding his injured forehead. 

A couple more went up and failed, and finally, Junior shouted, "Get up here, Riddle!"

I narrowed my eyes, determined to be able to resist the curse as I forced myself to move forward to the clear center. Draco squeezed my arm in reassurance before I was out of his reach, but I was unable to acknowledge him back, my eyes focused on a smirking Junior as I approached him. As soon as I was planted in front of him, he flicked his wand at me before I could even blink. My body shivered slightly as if something was being lifted out of me, and then I realized what it was: worry. It was as if this curse had sucked all the stress I had been feeling out of me, leaving me as light as a feather. I could fly. There wasn't a care in the world—

Jump onto the table. 

The voice that echoed through my head wasn't the one I had been expecting, and if I had been able to control my body, I would've jumped. Instead of the gruff voice Junior used to impersonate Moody, this was his real voice. The smooth and slightly jumpy one that had shouted Mosmordre. 

Without even thinking, I began to make my way over to one of the desks pressed up against the wall. When I was right about to hop up on it, I suddenly stopped, wincing hard since it felt as if some invisible force was tugging my body upward, urging me to get onto the desk. 

No, fight it, something in the back of my head said sternly. It sounded like my voice, but I wasn't thinking that... or was I? Yes, I was. It was me.