https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-553-The-End-of-the-Spell-Study-Society/13685703/
https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-555-Let-s-Begin-with-Investigation-Hermione/13685705/
Chapter 554: Auror-Taught Dark Defense Class
In the days that followed, the Spell Study Society gradually became a new trend at Hogwarts. Wade overheard someone feigning modesty at the Great Hall: “My Shield Charm isn’t really good yet—it’s only just taking shape. It wouldn’t be able to block much of anything serious.” Before he even finished speaking, the student raised his wand and conjured a translucent barrier. Curious classmates then cast minor dark curses, watching in awe as the spells’ light flared against the barrier or ricocheted back with a sharp crackle.
Another student, seated at the table, confided to the person beside him: “I just asked my dad—he knows the Shield Charm, of course. But none of the other people at his office do! The Ministry’s current level of competence is truly worrying. Back in the old days, I doubt they’d have lasted a week.”
His tone was so dramatically concerned, one might have thought he was already campaigning for Minister of Magic, determined to fix the system.
Then came another complaint from someone else to Harry and the others: “So this is how you’ve been eating all this time? You’ve been hiding it from us this whole while. No wonder Neville could cast a Cheerfulness Charm—now I get it.”
Neville, startled by his name, looked up blankly. “I didn’t hide food… uh, want a potato?” He offered the other a roasted potato from his own plate.
Though Neville’s academic performance was never top-tier, it had stabilized around the middle. Since Snape had stopped picking on him so often, even his Potions grades had seen a slight improvement. As a result, he now carried himself with more confidence. Even if he knew people were still laughing behind his back, he no longer flinched or looked down.
“Hey,” Harry said during a study session in the Umbrella Room, “have you noticed this? I think Snape’s actually afraid of Professor Moody.”
“It’s Professor Snape, Harry,” Hermione said without looking up.
“Sure, but he keeps avoiding Moody’s eyes, doesn’t he?” Padma said, her wand directing a feather quill to dance across the table. “I’d say it’s perfectly normal. I can’t even look at Moody’s face.”
“That’s different,” Harry insisted.
He couldn’t quite explain how it was different—yet even if he’d only used the tip of his fingernail to think about it, he knew Snape’s fear of Moody wasn’t the same as Padma’s.
Others weren’t particularly interested in the dynamic between the two professors. Both were terrifying in their own right. But they were far more eager to talk about the latest Defensive Magic Against the Dark Arts class.
Moody never taught by the book. Each session was a new challenge. The most common format was duels in pairs—but he also set up magical traps, some with faint traces of dark magic, forcing students to decipher them. Failure to solve the puzzle or triggering the trap meant a painful consequence.
On occasion, he’d bring dangerous magical creatures into the classroom—without warning. Students only realized their presence when the creatures attacked. Once, Lisha’s arm snapped clean in half. Another time, Zabini nearly lost his nose.
Of course, none of the injuries involved true dark magic. Madam Pomfrey would heal them in minutes.
Moody paid no mind to student complaints or tears. Anyone who cried in his class was scolded so harshly, they’d feel like they’d been born wrong.
As for the howling letters that arrived from home—Moody treated them like morning candy. He’d often dismantle them before even opening them, tossing them far away and using magic to open them from a distance. That cautious habit had already saved him from two attacks: one from a burst of Bubotuber pus, and another from a mysterious dark curse whose effects were still unclear.
“Stay alert, children!” Moody would roar after each incident. “In this world, surviving is a constant battle. Unexpected disasters always strike when you least expect them!”
The students exchanged glances. We don’t have it this bad, they thought silently. No one else has it this bad.
But after that, everyone became far more careful when opening parcels or letters.
Despite protests from parents and students alike, Moody remained firmly in his post as Professor of Defensive Magic Against the Dark Arts.
Hagrid had once been so distraught after being injured by Malfoy that he’d seemed ready to jump from the Headmaster’s Tower. But for Moody? A minor, healable injury? That was nothing. His entire family had screamed at him, calling it a fuss over nothing.
He stuck to his teaching style with unwavering resolve. In fact, he even wrote to old friends, borrowing several dark magic artifacts confiscated by Aurors, to teach students how to distinguish between them.
Michael frowned, saying, “Professor Moody’s class is terrifying, but it’s undeniably effective. Sometimes it’s even fun… but still, it’s terrifying.”
Theo sighed. “And it’s not just terrifying. It’s painful. There are injuries. Sometimes, real danger to life.”
He nervously rubbed his neck.
“Theo nearly died today,” Liam announced to the group. “A scarf nearly choked him. In the Infirmary, we heard Madam Pomfrey yelling at Professor Moody. I’ve never seen her that furious.”
“Why hasn’t the Ministry of Magic taken action against Moody?” Harry asked, frowning. “I’ve been worried more than once that he might end up in Azkaban.”
“You’ve seen the scar on his body,” Wade said. “They say half the cells in Azkaban were filled by him. He was an Auror for years—legendary in the field. Even now that he’s retired, he’s still the best.”
“So we’re lucky he’s passing on his experience?” Michael asked, face grim.
Wade nodded. “Exactly.”
Harry hesitated. The Auror was one of his dreams—on par with becoming a professional Quidditch player. But seeing Moody in action made him pause. Maybe he’d need to think again.
“Ah! I’m done!” Hermione suddenly slammed her quill down, pulled out her wand, and tapped the parchment. Copies of her work appeared instantly, and she passed them around.
Harry stared at his copy, puzzled. “Um… ‘Vomit Initiative’ books? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s not ‘vomit,’” Hermione said, glaring at Padma and then scanning the others. “It’s S.P.E.W.—the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. I’m setting it up. You’re all going to join, right?”
A silence fell. Even Michael remained quiet.
“Good idea,” Wade said, finally speaking. “But I’ve got a few questions.”
“Go ahead,” Hermione said, lifting her chin proudly.
(End of Chapter)
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