On the Wednesday morning, after an interrupted sleep with Astronomy, they were having a lazy breakfast. However, Harry wasn't eating that much.
When Daphne had had enough of his mood, she turned to him and exasperatedly asked, "Alright, Mister Broody; what's going on?"
"It's Unforgivables Day in 'Dah-Dah'," he sighed.
"Oh, yes," she said, forgotten about that."
catching
on.
"I'd
"Well, what're we going to do about it?" asked Hermione.
"We need to pull Neville aside, for starters," replied Harry.
practically guts him."
"This
lesson
"We'll make sure he sits with us, then," noted Daphne. "Next?" "Do we fake the effect the Imperius curse has upon us?" he asked right back.
"Do you mean, do we pretend we're affected by it?" she asked.
"Yeah," he replied.
"Why would we do that?" she asked. "Because, how we react to it could be information passed back to 'Babymort'." "Ah!" she softly replied, now understanding. "We pretend it affects us so Riddle thinks it's an Unforgivable he can use against us." "Precisely."
"Well, any disinformation we can pass on to him may be a benefit to us," she said. "I say we do it."
"I think that depends on what he tries to get us to do, don't you think?" asked Hermione.
"I don't think he's going to try anything too risky," mused Daphne. "I suspect it'll just be something like 'dance on the table', or something. However, if it is too much, we can always pretend to fight it off, at that point."
"Leading him to think we're somewhat susceptible, just not for something too outrageous," thought Hermione. "That's plausible. I say we do it." As the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor students congregated outside the DADA classroom, the three bondmates made sure to stand with Neville.
"Neville?" asked Hermione.
"Yeah?" he asked back.
"We've heard Professor Moody is going to be giving a talk on the three Unforgivables, today," she explained. "We three think you should sit with us, for this. Alright?"
Surprised and not a little fearful, the young man looked between them - noting the expressions on their faces - and reached a decision. "Yeah; yeah," he replied, a little relieved. "I think that would be best. Thank you."
"We'll sit in the back," advised Harry. "If you need to, look to us for support. If it gets too much; leave. We won't think less of you if you do, alright?"
A little bashful but clearly moved by the gesture, Neville nodded and 'manned up' standing a little taller. "I can do this," he firmly said.
"We know you can," replied Harry. "But, accepting moral support, is also wise. It's not a mark of weakness."
As expected faux-Moody took them through the Unforgivables. First he demonstrated them on three spiders. And, as per last time, Hermione shouted at him to stop torturing one of them when he put the spider under the Cruciatus curse.
What was different was that it wasn't Harry who mentioned the killing curse, this time. Rather, it was Seamus; as Harry held his tongue. But faux-Moody still pointed out that Harry was still the lone survivor of such a curse. However, Harry didn't let it slide.
"What makes you think I survived it?" he asked right back.
"Well, you're here, aren't you, boy?" Crouch asked.
"So is everyone else in the room. That, in itself, is not an answer," Harry shot back. "What makes you... and the rest of the Wizarding world... believe Voldemort shot the killing curse at me, that night?"
Everyone, including Crouch, flinched at the name 'Voldemort'.
"Everyone knows he fired the..." Crouch tried.
"How?" Harry interrupted. "How do they know? Supposedly, the only one who survived that night in my parent's cottage was me. And, I don't know whether he used the killing curse or not. I was fifteen months old, at the time. Plus, I've never spoken about it.
"Again, why do you, and everyone else, believe I survived the killing curse?"
Faux-Moody, Crouch, stood there with a look of complete confusion and shock on his face. The other students were all talking among themselves about what Harry had said. And glancing at him in their own levels of shock.
"Prior incantation..." Crouch tried.
"Only
works
on
a
person's
wand," interrupted Harry again. "And Voldemort's wand was never found at the scene."
Again, everyone flinched. But, Crouch roared, "Stop mentioning his name!"
"I'm not," Harry calmly said. "If I was going to mention his name I'd call him by it; Tom Marvolo Riddle. Voldemort is just a silly little anagram derived from his real name. His shade told me that, himself, almost a year and a half ago. He was quite proud about how he'd fooled all the purebloods; seeing as he's only a half-blood bastard.
"Come on, Professor. You're supposed to be one of the greatest dark wizard hunters magical Britain has ever known. And you don't know his real name?"
"You lie!" he hissed. Harry smiled back. If he pushed the man any harder he suspected Crouch was going to end up giving himself up.
Calmly, he walked from his seat up to the front of the classroom, where he picked up a stick of chalk from it's little shelf and began to write on the blackboard.
First, he wrote in big bold letters TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE across the top of the board. Then, about three quarters of the way down the board, he wrote I AM LORD VOLDEMORT, also in big bold letters.
Then, he simply drew lines matching each letter from the top name to the one below. Once he finished, he dusted his hands off and calmly walked back to his seat.
Everyone, including faux-Crouch, stared at the board in shock. Harry, watching the man's expression, saw him starting to put things together. Such as, why Riddle was currently holed-up in 'Riddle Manor'; and why he wanted Harry transported to the grave of one 'Tom Riddle'.
.
.
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