The morning light filtered through the high windows of the Great Hall as Harry Potter and his friends gathered for breakfast. With the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament just a few days away, the atmosphere around Hogwarts was thick with anticipation. But for now, the daily routine of classes remained. Today was going to be a long one, with lessons packed from morning until late afternoon—just enough to keep Harry distracted from the challenges ahead.
Harry sat with his usual crowd at the Slytherin table—Hermione, Daphne, Tracey, and Fleur, who had seamlessly integrated into the group over the past few weeks. Their close connection had grown stronger, and their conversations were filled with inside jokes and shared memories. As they ate breakfast, the latest issue of the Daily Prophet lay open in front of them.
"Can't believe they actually went through with it," Daphne muttered, pushing her eggs around her plate while glancing at the headline.
Ministry Legalizes Use of Unforgivable Curses for Educational Purposes.
"They think it's going to help us prepare for the dangers out there," Tracey added, taking a sip of her pumpkin juice. "I guess with You-Know-Who on the rise again, they want us to be ready."
Harry raised an eyebrow, looking at the article. "It's reckless, but they're not wrong. It'll be useful in the long run."
Fleur, sitting beside him, gave a teasing smile. "I 'ave no doubt you will master zhem, 'Arry. Like you do with everything else."
Hermione, ever the voice of reason, frowned. "It's one thing to defend yourself, but casting Unforgivables—there's a reason they're called that."
Harry met her gaze, his expression serious. "I know. But sometimes, Hermione, the world isn't black and white. Sometimes, we have to use the tools we're given."
The conversation shifted as they prepared for their first class of the day: Potions with Professor Snape. Harry and his girls gathered their materials and made their way down to the dungeons.
Potions Class
The dank atmosphere of the Potions classroom always seemed to reflect the brooding nature of its master, Professor Snape. Today was no different. The smell of bubbling cauldrons filled the air as the students took their seats, waiting for Snape to begin.
"Today," Snape began in his usual low, drawling tone, "we will be brewing a Draught of Peace. I expect nothing less than perfection, especially from those of you who think you're above simple mistakes."
His eyes darted toward Harry and his group, but Harry remained unfazed, focused on the task at hand. The Draught of Peace was a delicate potion that required precision. A misstep could lead to something far less calming than intended.
As they worked, Hermione whispered to Harry. "I heard Snape's been talking about doubling the points on this assignment. If you're aiming for top grades, this is the one."
Harry grinned. "You know me, Hermione. I don't do anything half-hearted."
The class went on smoothly, with Harry and his girls managing to brew near-perfect potions, much to Snape's grudging acknowledgment. By the end of the lesson, Harry was confident in his performance, though he knew Snape would never openly praise him.
Transfiguration Class
After Potions, they hurried up to Transfiguration, where Professor McGonagall was reviewing advanced conjuration spells. She was, as always, precise and clear in her instruction.
"Today, we'll be continuing our work on Vanishing Spells," McGonagall said crisply. "We will be vanishing larger objects this time. Remember, it requires not only power but concentration."
Harry and the others followed along, vanishing increasingly large items. McGonagall had them start with small animals like mice and gradually work their way up to larger objects.
At one point, Harry, with a smirk, turned to Fleur and whispered, "Maybe I should vanish something more interesting—like this entire room."
Fleur giggled softly and responded, "Be careful, 'Arry. You might vanish me, and zhat would be a tragedy."
The light banter continued between them, and the lesson flew by. As the bell rang, McGonagall approached Harry.
"You've improved greatly, Mr. Potter," she said, her stern features softened slightly. "Keep up the good work."
Harry nodded. "Thank you, Professor."
Defense Against the Dark Arts
The final class of the day was Defense Against the Dark Arts, and today, it wasn't just any lesson. Rumors had been swirling around the castle since the Daily Prophet had announced the Ministry's decision to legalize Unforgivable Curses in the classroom. Harry had heard students talking about it all day, and now, he was eager to see how Professor Moody would handle it.
The real Mad-Eye Moody, fully recovered after his brush with the impostor before the start of this year, stood at the front of the class, his magical eye whizzing around in its socket. His presence commanded respect and a slight edge of fear.
"Right," Moody growled, slamming his walking stick onto the desk in front of him. "You lot have heard the news, I'm sure. The Ministry thinks it's high time you learned the Unforgivable Curses. And I agree."
The students exchanged nervous glances, but Harry remained calm. This was what the Ministry wanted, and Moody had always been about preparing them for the worst.
"The Imperius Curse, the Cruciatus Curse, and the Killing Curse," Moody continued, his grizzled face twisted into a grim smile. "In this classroom, you're going to learn how to cast them."
There were murmurs of disbelief, but Moody raised a hand to silence them. "The Ministry's given the green light. This is about survival, not morality. The passing grade today is casting one Unforgivable. Those who manage all three…" Moody paused, his magical eye focusing briefly on Harry. "Well, you'll be in a class of your own."
The lesson began with Moody demonstrating the curses one by one. First, the Imperius Curse. Then, Cruciatus. Finally, Avada Kedavra. The room was filled with a tense energy as Moody cast each spell with deadly precision, his voice gruff and unwavering.
"Now, it's your turn."
Harry glanced at his girls—Hermione, Daphne, Tracey, and Fleur—who all looked determined. They had been preparing for this moment. One by one, students stepped forward, some managing to cast the curses with varying degrees of success, others hesitating entirely.
When it was Harry's turn, he walked to the front of the room confidently. He raised his wand, his voice steady as he cast the Imperius Curse first. The light in his eyes never wavered as he moved on to the Cruciatus and finally, Avada Kedavra. The deadly green light flashed, and the target dummy collapsed in a heap.
The room fell silent. There was no mistaking Harry's mastery of the curses. Daphne followed next, followed by Tracey and Fleur. Each of them managed all three curses, though none with quite the same ease as Harry. Still, their success was met with murmurs of awe from the other students.
As the class ended, Moody approached Harry and clapped him on the back. "You're something else, Potter. I'm not easily impressed, but you've got the makings of a real fighter."
Harry simply nodded. "Thanks, Professor. I'll be ready for whatever comes next."
The Mission with Sirius
That evening, after dinner, Harry received a message from Sirius. The two of them had planned a mission for weeks, and now was the time to execute it. Sirius had fully recovered from his time in Azkaban, and he was back to his old self—sharp, capable, and determined to strike at the Death Eaters.
They met at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where Sirius transformed into his Animagus form, the great black dog Padfoot, and Harry cast a Disillusionment Charm to hide them both. Their target was a small outpost of Death Eaters that had been identified through intelligence gathered by the Order of the Phoenix.
The two moved swiftly and silently through the forest, reaching the outpost just before midnight. A handful of Death Eaters stood guard, unaware of the approaching threat.
Sirius shifted back to his human form and whispered, "Ready?"
Harry nodded. "Let's do this."
With quick, decisive movements, they incapacitated the guards, using stunning spells and silent takedowns. Once inside, they searched the outpost for valuable information.
In one of the back rooms, they found what they were looking for: a list of potential attack locations, detailing where the Death Eaters planned to strike next.
Sirius grinned as he pocketed the list. "This will change everything. We'll be able to stop them before they even start."
Harry nodded, satisfaction coursing through him. This was just the beginning. They weren't just reacting to Voldemort's moves—they were now one step ahead.
As they returned to the castle in the early hours of the morning, Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. Not just in his abilities or the mission's success, but in the knowledge that he was ready for whatever the Third Task—and the future—had in store for him.
With his friends, his girls, and now his godfather by his side, Harry Potter was prepared for anything.