As the clock struck 9 PM, Hogwarts Castle stood majestically against the velvet night sky, its ancient stone walls bathed in the ethereal glow of countless stars. The usual bustling atmosphere had given way to an unusual tranquility, perhaps a consequence of Bryan's recent commandeering of most of the castle's suits of armor.
The corridors, typically alive with the echoes of students' footsteps and mischievous whispers, now resonated with an almost palpable serenity. Only the portraits on the walls exchanged hushed gossip and offered gentle admonishments to the few students still making their way back to their dormitories.
In the grand entrance hall, a scene of organized chaos unfolded as students from the four houses bid each other goodnight and parted ways. The Slytherins and Hufflepuffs, an unlikely pair united by the location of their common rooms, descended together into the depths of the castle's dungeons. Meanwhile, the Ravenclaws and Gryffindors began their ascent to their respective towers.
Harry his mind still buzzing with excitement from the night's events, climbed up the stairs two at a time, eager to share every detail with Ron. As he climbed, his emerald eyes caught sight of a peculiar figure in the distance.
"Oh, that's--"
Illuminated briefly by the warm glow emanating from Hagrid's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, a limping silhouette patrolled the grounds before melting into the dense darkness beyond.
"It's Professor Moody--" Harry exclaimed, his voice a mix of surprise and curiosity. "Does he patrol the grounds every night? Did Professor Dumbledore order him to do this?"
"Oh, not necessarily!" Fred said enthusiastically. "You all know he's retired from his position as an Auror. Dad says he's very vigilant. I guess he probably treats Hogwarts like Azkaban. He thinks it's not safe here!"
Hermione furrowed her brow in skepticism as she said, "But it's impossible for anyone to sneak into Hogwarts undetected, right?"
"That's not certain," Harry grinned. "Sirius managed it, and so did Peter Pettigrew. He lurked in the school for over two years before being discovered."
That despicable guy had lurked at Hogwarts for over two years, but had stayed with their family for twelve years in his Animagus form. Whenever this was mentioned at home, Mr. Weasley's face would turn ashen, while their mother, Mrs. Weasley, would look as if she were having difficulty breathing.
Harry, noticing the effect his words had had, quickly tried to steer the conversation in a different direction. However, before he could speak, Ginny's soft voice broke the momentary silence. "But why doesn't he light a lamp for himself?" she mumbled, her curiosity overcoming her discomfort.
"Even darkness can't deceive that eye of his--" Fred said with a hint of respect. "Apart from Professor Watson, Moody's the most capable Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've had in years!"
"Absolutely brilliant!" George chimed in.
Harry didn't quite like this assessment. Compared to Professor Moody, he emotionally preferred Remus and Sirius. Hermione, however, he asked eagerly, "What do you mean?"
The twins exchanged a meaningful glance. Then, with the flair of a seasoned performer, Fred leapt onto a nearby corner platform. He turned to face Hermione, his eyebrow raised in a perfect arch as he declared, "It's absolutely fantastic--" He paused, savoring the anticipation on their faces. "It's definitely beyond your imagination. He's a true master at combating Dark Magic!"
Harry's mind suddenly snapped to the present as he remembered, "We have his class tomorrow--" His voice rose with enthusiasm as he asked, "Is Professor Moody's class even more interesting than Professor Watson's physical education class?"
The words felt strange on Harry's tongue. Before tonight's extraordinary lesson, he would never have described Professor Watson's PE class as 'interesting'. 'Useful', perhaps, or even 'grueling', but 'interesting' was a new development, born from the night's unexpected turn of events.
George's dismissive tone cut through Harry's ponderings. "That's a different matter altogether, Harry!" he said, waving his hand as if to physically brush aside the comparison.
Unexpectedly, it was Ginny who provided the next piece of information, her voice soft but clear in the quiet corridor. "Professor Watson said he would examine whether Professor Moody's teaching content meets the requirements. If not, he'd expel Professor Moody from Hogwarts." Her brown eyes darted around the group as she continued, "He's probably been preparing for this PE class these past couple of days. Maybe he'll show up in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom tomorrow--"
Fred and George turned to their little sister in astonishment, their usual synchronicity momentarily disrupted. "When did this happen?" Fred asked, his eyes wide. "How do you know?" George added, leaning in closer.
Ginny's cheeks flushed slightly under their scrutiny, but her voice remained steady. "It was on the first day of school, after they dueled in the entrance hall--" She glanced at Harry, a hint of something unreadable in her eyes. "I was hiding behind a pillar outside the door. Professor McGonagall didn't see me, and I overheard their conversation."
No one wanted to see a confrontation between the two professors happen. After all, Professor Moody had been personally invited by Dumbledore himself, and he was also a good friend of Mr. Weasley.
Harry felt even more guilty. After all, that day Professor Moody had intervened to punish Malfoy for ambushing him. If he were to be expelled from Hogwarts by Professor Watson because of this, Harry felt that he should also bear some responsibility, although the real culprit was Malfoy.
Carrying this burden of worry, Harry and his friends finally reached the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. The Fat Lady eyed them reproachfully for disturbing her at such a late hour. With a muttered password, the portrait swung open.
The Gryffindor common room, usually a hub of activity until the wee hours of the morning, was uncharacteristically quiet. Perhaps the excitement and physical exertion of the past few days had finally caught up with the fun-loving Gryffindors. The room, with its plush armchairs and cozy sofas covered in rich crimson and gold, was nearly deserted. Only the fireplace showed signs of life, its embers glowing softly and occasionally bursting into small, crackling flames that sent dancing shadows across the walls.
Even Hermione, known for her tireless dedication to studying, seemed to have reached her limit after the night's intense lesson. She scooped up Crookshanks who had crept out from beneath one of the sofas. The cat purred contentedly, his squashed face nuzzling into Hermione's arms as she bid Harry goodnight with a drowsy wave before heading towards the girls' dormitory.
After exchanging final goodnights with Fred and George, who headed off whispering about some new prank idea, Harry and Neville made their way up the spiral staircase to their dormitory. The door creaked softly as they pushed it open, revealing a scene that was far from the quiet they had expected.
Ron, Seamus, and Dean were sprawled on a soft, plush rug spread out on the floor between their four-poster beds. They were engrossed in a game of wizard's chess, As Harry and Neville entered, Ron's triumphant shout filled the room.
"Checkmate!" Ron exclaimed, his freckled face split by a wide grin. At his command, the knight on the chessboard sprang into action. It galloped forward, its tiny silver hooves clip-clopping across the board, before coming to a halt in front of the opponent's king. With a flourish of its miniature lance, the knight sent the king flying off the board, eliciting a groan of frustration from Dean.
"Oh, you're back?" Ron looked up, his eyes bright with victory, about to invite Seamus for another round. However, upon noticing Harry and Neville's entering and their peculiar expressions, his ginger eyebrows shot up in curiosity. "What's wrong?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Did the smell of the Dungbombs finally break you?"
"Didn't Professor Watson tell Hermione earlier that there would be new changes to this course?" Dean, still prickly from his recent defeat, stood up and stretched. His dark eyes sparkled with interest as he asked, "Did Professor Watson increase the dose of Dungbombs?"
"Oh, you missed out on something amazing!" Harry was considering how to explain without upsetting Ron too much, but faced with the inquiry, Neville spoke first. He enthusiastically said to the other three in the dormitory, "Professor Watson has officially started teaching us magic, dueling magic!"
The effect of Neville's words was instantaneous.
"What?!" Seamus and Dean cried out in unison, their voices a mixture of disbelief and envy. The chessboard lay forgotten as Seamus leapt to his feet, scattering the defeated pieces across the rug. He and Dean rushed forward, each grabbing one of Neville's arms as if they could shake the details out of him. "What happened, Neville? Tell us quickly!"
And so, Neville began to recount every detail of the night's lesson, from Professor Watson's analysis of the three subtypes of dueling magic to the incredibly unbelievable method of teaching magic. He didn't leave anything out.
Even Harry was surprised that Neville, who was usually forgetful, could remember Professor Watson's words from the class so clearly.
As Neville's tale came to an end, a heavy silence fell over the dormitory.
"So, Harry--" Ron, who had been standing in shocked silence throughout the recounting, finally found his voice. His cheeks puffed up in surprise as he looked at Harry and asked softly, "Is this true? Did Professor Watson really teach you dueling... I mean, dueling magic?"
Harry nodded, trying to keep his tone casual. "Just some basic spells that can be used in dueling, Ron," he said, attempting to downplay the significance of what they had learned. "We can learn them in Charms class too. Professor Watson just advanced our progress--"
But his words did little to diminish the impact of the revelation. Seamus's face contorted in frustration as he exclaimed, "Learning magic in Professor Watson's Magic world!" He flopped back onto his bed, his voice muffled as he buried his face in his pillow. "Damn, what have we all missed?!"
Dean, usually the most laid-back of the group, was pulling at his short hair in regret. "Do you think--" he began, his voice tinged with desperate hope, "Professor Watson might accept our apologies and let us rejoin the class?"
Ron remained silent, but his eyes turned to Harry, filled with the same hopeful expression that Dean's voice had carried.
Harry and Neville exchanged glances, both at a loss for words.
The silence stretched on, filled with unspoken words and complicated emotions.
The chessboard and pieces were scattered on the rug, with no one willing to tidy them up.
As the night wore on, the boys went to their respective beds, but the usual chatter that would fill the dormitory after lights out was noticeably absent. No one spoke, each lost in their own thoughts. The room was enveloped in a heavy atmosphere that even the clear, silvery moonlight streaming through the windows couldn't dispel.
Harry lay in his four-poster bed, the familiar red and gold hangings drawn back to allow the moonlight to spill across his blankets. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze drifting to Ron's bed. He could see Ron tightly wrapped in his blankets, facing the wall as if already asleep.
But Harry knew better. He knew Ron must be pretending to sleep.
'Who could have predicted things would turn out like this?'
Equally troubled, Harry let his head fall back onto the pillow. He stared at the ceiling, speckled with patches of light and shadow, as his consciousness gradually drifted into a haze.
...
Fortunately, perhaps to make up for the terrible weather in the days before school started, the sky over Hogwarts Castle was clear during the first week of classes. Today was no exception. As the golden morning sunlight fell on Harry's face, he rubbed his eyes and sat up in bed, yawning after a night of deep sleep.
The dormitory was already empty, which startled Harry. He fumbled for his glasses on the pillow, and as soon as his vision cleared, he grabbed his watch. After checking the time, Harry's tense expression relaxed. He spent ten minutes washing up and getting dressed, then found "A Guide to Self-Defense Against the Dark Arts" among a pile of books and stuffed it into his bag.
On a school morning, aside from a few lucky students who didn't have morning classes, there weren't many people lingering in the common room. Harry didn't see Neville or Seamus there, guessing they were probably having breakfast in the Great Hall.
The corridors of Hogwarts were relatively empty as Harry made his way towards the Great Hall. As Harry approached the massive oak doors of the Great Hall, the low hum of hundreds of voices engaged in morning conversation reached his ears.
As expected, Harry found his classmates in the Great Hall. Hermione was there too, deeply engrossed in an old book. Harry only needed a glance to know it was the book about magical constructs that Professor Watson had given her. He had seen it many times before.
Ron's face broke into a wide grin as he spotted Harry approaching. "You looked like you were sleeping so soundly, so I didn't wake you—" he called out, waving a piece of toast in greeting.
"Yeah—" Harry replied, sliding into the empty seat next to Hermione. Without missing a beat, he reached for a plate of lemon meringue cookies. With the skill of someone who had perfected the art of quick eating (a necessity when living with the Dursleys), Harry managed to stuff an entire cookie into his mouth in one go.
"I was completely exhausted," he added, his words slightly muffled by the cookie.
As Ron turned back to continue his discussion about Professor Watson's latest dueling theory, Harry took the opportunity to survey the Great Hall. The excitement in the air was palpable, with students at nearly every table engaged in lively discussions about their dueling lessons.
Even at the staff table, Professor McGonagall had called Angelina over to inquire about the situation, while other professors, including Professor Dumbledore, listened intently.
Almost against his will, Harry found his eyes drawn to the Slytherin table. There, holding court like some petty prince, sat Malfoy. His pointed face was alight with malicious glee as he described to Crabbe, Goyle, and a cluster of other Slytherins who weren't in the dueling class with exaggerated tales of what had transpired.
Harry felt a surge of anger course through him, his hand clenching involuntarily around his fork. If it weren't for Malfoy's troublemaking, Professor Watson wouldn't have to evaluate Professor Moody, let alone threaten to remove him from his position.
However, Harry's concern for Ron outweighed his worry about Professor Moody.
On the surface, Ron seemed to be in high spirits, laughing and joking with their classmates. But the more Harry watched, the more he felt that something was off.
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