The Killing Curse, a formidable incantation. One of the few spells truly worth noting in this world—a spell with a deathly, faultless precision. Within this magical system, no known protective spells could fend it off. It bypasses all defenses, existing solely to destroy life. Augustus's gaze lingered on Potter. Without this child, perhaps the Killing Curse would indeed be perfect.
Moody reached into the glass jar, grabbing the third spider. Sensing its impending doom, the creature frantically crawled around the bottom of the jar, desperately trying to evade his fingers. But Moody captured it and placed it on the podium. The spider scurried across the wooden surface, fleeing for its life.
Raising his wand, Moody seemed to emit an aura of dread. Harry felt a chilling premonition creep over him.
"Avada Kedavra!" Moody roared.
A dazzling green light flashed, so blinding that it was hard to keep one's eyes open. Simultaneously, a rushing sound filled the air, as if a massive, unseen force had swept by. The spider flipped over, lying lifeless on its back with no visible wounds. Yet it was unmistakably dead.
When the green light passed, Augustus instinctively activated his Eye of Insight. As expected, the infamous Killing Curse—revered as the ultimate death spell in this world—was far from invincible when viewed through a true magical lens. Almost any level-six or higher spell could counter it. In other words, a standard Mage could easily dismantle this so-called "unbeatable" curse.
"Unpleasant," Moody said calmly. "Unforgivable. And there's no counter-curse. No defense. As far as anyone knows, only one person has ever survived this spell. And that person is sitting right before me."
The class turned their attention to Harry. He stared intently at the empty blackboard, as if it were utterly captivating. In reality, his mind was blank.
"Displaying the three Unforgivable Curses to students at school? This Moody certainly plays by no rules," Lillian remarked casually, glancing at the silent Malfoy sitting nearby.
Malfoy let out a self-deprecating chuckle. "Just a performance. You forget, I've nearly been hit by Loki's Cruciatus Curse myself. To us, these so-called Unforgivable Curses are merely a few slightly stronger, vicious spells. In the world of magic, the horizons widened long ago when we met Augustus. Though I might still be a distance from Moody now, he has stagnated, while my magical journey is far from over. One day, such a man will merely be a stepping stone beneath my feet."
Augustus looked at Draco in mild surprise. This incident seemed to have matured him significantly. There was no boasting of his father's influence or harboring of petty resentment. He simply accepted everything calmly, acknowledging their disparities and envisioning the future. For a wizard, maintaining composure and not letting grievances cloud their judgment is the true advantage.
Moody continued, "The Killing Curse requires tremendous magical power as its foundation. You could all take out your wands and try casting it on me. I doubt I'd suffer more than a nosebleed. But that's beside the point. I'm here to teach you how these curses work."
The Slytherin students let out a collective scoff. In this school, no one dared to make such claims in front of Augustus—that they'd only suffer a nosebleed from an Avada Kedavra. It was clear Moody only assumed Augustus wouldn't bother to take him seriously. Augustus, indeed, showed no reaction.
The class ended. Gryffindors huddled in groups, reverently discussing the lesson. For most Slytherins, especially the purebloods, the three Unforgivable Curses held little academic interest.
Time flew, and by late October, the school was abuzz with activity. One day, Augustus and his companions arrived at the Great Hall only to find their way blocked by a large crowd gathered around a newly posted notice at the marble staircase. As Augustus approached, the students instinctively made way for him. Augustus strolled forward, followed closely by Malfoy and Lillian.
Triwizard Tournament
The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will arrive at 6 p.m. on Friday, October 30. Afternoon classes will end half an hour early...
"So, the Triwizard Tournament is officially on the schedule," Lillian said with excitement. "With the other schools arriving soon, the process of selecting champions must be starting shortly!"
"Only a week left!" Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff emerged from the crowd, eyes shining. "I wonder if Cedric knows yet. I should go tell him..."
"Looks like Cedric's popularity in Hufflepuff is as strong as ever," Malfoy said with a chuckle. "Even after losing to you in the Duel Club, Augustus, his fans seem undeterred."
"You underestimate Augustus's supporters," Lillian quipped with a glance at Malfoy, her expression tinged with disdain. "If we set aside the age advantage, at least three-quarters of the school would back Augustus as champion."
"That idiot Diggory wants to be Hogwarts' champion?" Ron's loud remark drew everyone's attention.
Hufflepuffs glared at him in unison, leaving Ron's face bright red with embarrassment.
"Don't make it worse, let's go," Hermione muttered, dragging Ron away as Harry awkwardly smiled at the Hufflepuffs. The trio made a hasty retreat.
"Ha!" Malfoy burst into laughter. "I must say, I'm starting to like Ron Weasley's blunt honesty. He just voiced what everyone's thinking."
Augustus sighed, rubbing his chin. Such divisive behavior hardly seemed worth encouraging. No, definitely not worth it.
The notice in the Great Hall had a noticeable effect on the castle's residents. Over the next week, every conversation seemed to revolve around the Triwizard Tournament—who would represent Hogwarts, the challenges of the competition, and what Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students would be like.
The castle itself underwent a thorough cleaning. Filthy portraits were scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their occupants, who sulked in their frames and grumbled in pain at their freshly exposed pink flesh. Even the armor grew spotless, no longer creaking with each move.
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