Chapter Text
The gathering on Platform 9 and ¾ was bizarre. Hermione, Theo and Harry stood with Remus, Sirius, and the Grangers. They were greeted enthusiastically by Narcissa Malfoy, while a more reserved Lucius and Draco hung back. The Parkinsons and Greengrasses gave their greetings as they guided their daughters to the train, both girls giving Hermione large smiles and asking her to find them once the journey started. Then the Weasleys arrived; Mrs Weasley fussing over Harry and not so subtly shifting him away from the group, or rather, the Malfoys.
“I’m fine Mrs Weasley. All juiced up on restorative potions and full of Kreacher’s food. I’ve never been better.” She was appraising him, her hands placed on his shoulders, almost willing to find some form of neglect.
“Come on, Molly, they need to get on the train.” Mr Weasley placed his arm around her shoulder and pulled her away, focussing her attention back on her own children.
Sirius and Remus were not oblivious to the flashes of photography capturing the moment. They kept adjusting their positions so that Harry and Hermione were out of shot. Hermione managed to catch a glimpse of a frustrated woman, garishly dressed, a quill and parchment hovering in front of her. Her eyes were calculating and visibly frustrated at the lack of photos her colleague was able to get.
The atmosphere on the train was noticeably different to previous years, no doubt as a result of the events at the Quidditch World Cup. The Gryffindors gravitated to their own cabin, with the occasional and dramatic visits from Theo. Each time he entered, Ron would engage Harry in a new topic of conversation; an obvious attempt to not include Theo. They’d got on well enough at the wedding but it was clear now that he had been acting as instructed by his family while under the gaze of the guests. Without their supervision he was free to act as he wished. Hermione knew that the rest of the Slytherins were equally as unlikely to jump straight into public displays of house unity. She also knew it wasn’t personal. It still felt weird; having spent the summer with Pansy and Daphne, she was now missing their company, surrounded by the rowdy group of boys she now found herself sat with. Ginny was her refuge, but even she would disappear every so often to visit the other people in her year.
Sitting at the Gryffindor table, waiting for the first years to arrive, Hermione tried to keep her head down. It didn’t stop her from noticing. Hearing the whispers and hushed questions, not only from her table, but from the tables around her. Narcissa had warned her that she was likely going to be the topic of conversation for at least the first couple of weeks and had told her to raise her head high and not give it a second thought.
‘Be your usual self, the smart, beautiful girl we know you are. Give no mind to them, if they feel fit to gossip then they aren’t worth it. Make note of who they are and remember that for future reference.’
And so, she did. She channelled her inner Narcissa and chose to ignore what was going on around her. She was still Hermione Granger (with an additional Black add-on). She had originally felt it was a cop-out, to ignore them, but eventually found it gave her a sense of power.
Looking at the top table, she could see an empty seat, traditionally where the Defence Professor sat. She knew from her interactions with Professor Snape during the summer that he hadn’t been offered the role. The sorting ceremony continued without any drama. That was until there was a deafening rumble of thunder overhead, and the doors of the Great Hall slammed open. A man, worn and haggard, limped through the doors. Every movement seemed deliberate. One eye was normal; the other spun wildly in its socket, scanning the hall before fixing briefly on individual students. As he passed where Hermione and Harry were sat, his magical eye twisted, focussing in on them both, before setting its gaze back to where Dumbledore was now stood. Hermione glanced towards the Slytherin table, no one was hiding their shock, Theo looked stunned, gripping the cup in his hand so hard that she could see his knuckles turning white from across the hall. Hermione had never seen an entire House look afraid of a teacher before.
“Professor Moody! Thank you for joining us.”
Clunk.
Clunk.
The sound continued until the man was stood at Dumbledore’s side.
“Students, may I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Alistair Moody.” A stilted smatter of applause spread across the hall.
“Fucking hell –“ George whispered under his breath.
It wasn’t hard to ignore the instant reaction from the Slytherin’s. Students who had been paying attention to their meal were now sat bolt upright, eyes darting up and down the table, clearly trying to gauge the appropriate response.
“He’s an ex-Auror, caught most of the dark wizards in Azkaban.” Ron filled in the gaps in her knowledge. “If anyone knows the Dark Arts, it’s him.”
The interaction between Headmaster and teacher seemed stilted, but familiar. A few words were whispered before the man took his seat alongside Professor McGonagall. Rather than reaching to the goblet in front of him to toast his arrival, he searched inside his coat pocket to retrieve a hip flask, swigging it back while everyone around him raised a toast to his appointment.
Before the feast had finished, Dumbledore stood again and gave his usual address of the school rules, but then his intentions changed.
“Before we finish this night of feasting and celebration, I would like to make an additional announcement. We have been given the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event which has not been held for over a century. It is my great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be held at Hogwarts this year.”
Across the hall, excitement erupted amongst most students. Yet, Hermione noticed the adults at the High Table reacting differently. Professor McGonagall looked resigned. Snape appeared irritated. Moody merely continued to drink from his flask, his mechanical eye scanning the hall. Fred and George were out of their seats in an instant, shouting and whooping. Even Theo and Draco were sat up straighter.
Dumbledore raised a hand to silence them and continued, “We will be hosting the students of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang throughout the tournament. A champion will be selected from each school and will be required to take part in three tasks, utilizing their magical skills and demonstrating their ability to face danger and adversity. The prize? The glory of their school, and a thousand galleons of prize money.”
More excitement spread through the Great Hall.
“A thousand galleons! We should enter!” Ron was turning to Harry.
“I want a quiet year, no thank you.”
Ron wasn’t happy with the reply but turned his attention back to their Headmaster.
“You should know… the tournament is not fair. It relies on your skill and will not give you grace should you not succeed. Although the rules have been changed, please be aware, the tournament was previously cancelled due to the death toll. Should you participate, you should know the risks. For that reason, it has been decided that the competition is open to those over seventeen or older –“
The Weasley twins were in uproar.
“- this is a measure we feel is necessary, due to the difficulty and danger of the tasks.”
Moans were heard across the hall. Hermione was grateful that there seemed to be some sense of reasoning.
“The delegations of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and will remain with us for the remainder of the contest. I know that, during their stay, you will offer them every courtesy and treat them as the fellow wizards and witches that they are. You will represent Hogwarts. Now, time for bed! Chop, chop! Prefects, please lead your houses back to your dorms, and let the school year, commence!”
Lessons began as usual. Hermione made sure to create her usual study schedule, sharing it with Harry and Ron, and forcing it upon Theo. Things in the common room were awkward at first, but soon relaxed once the house realised that nothing about her personality had changed. Yes, Lavender and Parvati made more of an attempt to talk to her in their dorm, but at least there wasn’t any hostility.
“Come in. Find a seat.” Moody’s disembodied voice carried across the Defence classroom. A hesitant group of Slytherins and Gryffindors entered.
“Seats.”
The students followed as instructed. This was already more intense than any lesson they’d had before. He was intense and cruel; Hermione couldn’t tell whether it was intentional or just his personality. They had started with stunning spells, performed on each other, and resulting in numerous concussions as people were thrown across the room. Hermione knew, technically, that she had learnt something that lesson, but she didn’t like how it had happened. Parvati, Blaise, and Lavender were now being treated by Madame Pomphrey. Blaise had gone through a desk, and Lavender had accidentally stunned herself. The rest of the lesson had been cancelled.
The rest of the first week continued as usual. Snape was taciturn but noticeably not quite as harsh on the Gryffindors as he had been in the past; Neville even managed to finish his potion without comment. The buzz however was still focussed on the Triwizard Tournament, and Professor Moody.
“You know they call him Mad-Eye Moody? Dad went to help him before he started here – the guy thought his house was being broken into. He’s super paranoid. But I guess that’s what a lifetime of fighting dark wizards does to you.” Ron was rattling off information as if he’d known the man all his life.
“He trained Tonks.” Hermione chimed in.
“Wow.” Ron was in awe.
“He must know so much.” Harry had thought the man was creepy before, but within the context, a lot of his behaviour seemed warranted.
“Right, curses.” Moody barked as soon as they had taken their seats. “They come in different strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry, I’m supposed to teach you counter-curses and leave it that. But Professor Dumbledore has a higher opinion of your nerves. And I don’t think that leaving things until the moment you’re attacked is the correct course of action. How are you going to defend yourself against something you’ve never seen?”
He was scrawling on the blackboard in jagged handwriting that was barely readable.
Unforgivable Curses
“Miss Brown, if you could refrain from painting your nails while I’m delivering life saving advice.”
“He can see in the back of his head?” Lavender whispered in shock to Parvati.
Turning back to the class, he continued, “So, do any of you know which curses are the most heavily punished by wizarding law?”
Some hands were raised, Hermione noticed that the Slytherin side of the room was staying remarkably quiet.
“Mr Weasley – “
“Um, my Dad told me about the Imperius Curse…” Ron’s ears were growing pinker by the second as Moody encouraged his answer.
“Yes, gave the Ministry a whole lot of bother that one.”
He stomped to his desk, retrieved a jar containing three spiders and deposited one in front of Ron.
“The Imperius Curse allows the caster complete autonomy over the victim.”
The spider began to walk towards Ron, before a flick of a wand sent it to the window.
“I could command this spider to jump, I could command it to bite, I could tell it to drown itself and it wouldn’t be able to fight back. Total control.”
“Years back, a lot of witches and wizards claimed to have been controlled by the Imperius Curse into doing terrible things.” The insinuation was clear, and seats shuffled uncomfortably on the other side of the room. “So, how do we sort out the liars from the people telling the truth?”
“Another! Longbottom!”
All around her Hermione could sense tension. She and Harry knew about Neville’s parents. No doubt all of the Slytherins did to some extent or another.
“The – the Cruciatus Curse.” Neville muttered. She tried to catch his eye, but his focus was the wood grain on his desk.
“Yes, yes, marvellous!” Moody retrieved a second spider from the jar and placed it in front of Neville.
“Engorgio. Crucio!” The spider grew in size and then began twisting, convulsing, its legs bending in upon its body. No sound came from it, but it was clear it was in excruciating pain. The torture curse.
“Neville. We’re done here.”
Moody’s spell broke and he looked to where the interruption had come from. Theo was stood, bag in hand, refusing to make eye contact with the Professor.
Hermione looked back to Neville who was now white as a sheet, droplets of sweat appearing on his forehead.
“Neville.” Theo repeated. Slowly, Neville stood, placing his book in his bag, and leaving the room.
Hermione, out of instinct rose as well, followed by Harry, Draco and Pansy. Ron didn’t seem sure what was going on. The odd group of students left the room in silence and made their way to the courtyard. Moody didn’t protest.
“That was fucked! Like, really fucked up! Like hell Dumbledore wants us learning about those.” Draco was pacing. Theo was sat next to Neville in silence.
“I know you think he’s cool, Harry, but that was horrible.” Hermione didn’t know what to say.
“I figure he thinks he’s preparing us for the future? Better to see those things now than later.”
“No, that was a display of power. He’s trying to make a point and using our trauma as a way of doing it. What are the chances that, once we left, he used the killing curse on that spider. Fancy watching that?”
Harry flinched.
The school bell rang out, and students began flooding into the courtyard. Ron was quick to find them.
“What was that about?” No situational awareness on display. Neville still looked sick, Theo was staring into blank space, his hand being held tightly by Pansy.
“We shouldn’t have had to see that –“ Hermione began.
“He was just teaching us. After you left he showed us the –“
“Stop.” Harry knew what his friend was about to say next. Ron seemed to catch himself.
“Oh. Right, yeah.”
“So, now do you think what he did was appropriate, Potter?” Draco questioned.
“I mean, no, I guess… But it’s still important to know, right?!” Harry was torn between thoughts.
“People talk about those curses like they’re stories!” Draco’s voice was raised and he squared up to Harry.
Theo huffed, “They aren’t stories.” Harry looked to where the boy was still huddled on a bench. He opened his mouth to argue, then stopped. Theo wasn't looking at any of them. He was staring at the ground.
There was a moment of calm as the two boys looked at each other. The rest of the courtyard were watching the exchange with curious eyes.
Draco was first to speak next, “I’ll see you in Potions tomorrow, Potter.”
Before he could turn away fully, he was struck by a spell, his body melding and shrinking until where Draco stood, was a white ferret.
“WHAT THE FUCK!” Theo rushed forward, trying to grab the animal who was now scrabbling on the cobbled floor.
“That wasn’t me!” Harry began his own pursuit, trying to corner the Draco-Ferret into a corner alongside Theo.
“Draco?!” Hermione joined the chase, convincing the panicked teenagers to reduce the volume, until the white ferret tentatively moved towards Hermione. Pansy was at her side in an instant, taking the creature from her arms. Hermione spun around, ready to find the student responsible – instead she was confronted with Professor Moody.
“How interesting, a Malfoy goes against Harry Potter, and a Knott, a Black and Potter himself rush to protect him? What interesting company you are keeping, Mr Potter.”
“Professor, what are you doing?” Harry was still trying to ensure that Draco was secure with Pansy.
Neville was now on his feet, unsure what to do with himself. “Professor-“
“Turn him back! He didn’t do anything wrong!” Hermione was fuming. A gathering had formed in the courtyard and she could see Ron, Dean and Seamus stifling laughter as Pansy continued to hold onto Draco.
“Seemed to me that he was squaring up to Potter, lassie, and I don’t stand for bullying.”
“We were just talking!” Harry stepped forward, “He didn’t do anything wrong.”
Moody’s eye swivelled to focus on Harry, now stood side by side with Hermione while Theo and Pansy had moved behind them, shielding Draco from any further spells.
“You better turn him back now or –“
“Or what Miss Granger? Sounds like you’re threatening a teacher.”
“We both are.” Harry puffed out his chest. The students within earshot gasped. His comment seemed to take Moody by surprise for a second, he tilted his head, seeming to analyse the situation.
Suddenly, the crowd surrounding them parted.
“What are you all doing here? Shouldn’t you be on your way to classes. Alistair, we abide by the school schedule, why are all of these students here?” She faltered slightly as she saw how Harry and Hermione were stood. Evidently defensive, faces similarly set and staring the Defence professor down.
“I would think the Professors should also abide by usual forms of punishment. Clearly the memo was missed.” Pansy snarked.
“Miss Parkinson?”
Pansy stepped forward holding Draco.
“Professor Moody,” she spat, “turned Draco into a ferret.”
In an instant McGonagall had her wand out and a dishevelled Draco appeared on the cobbled floor.
“Salazar, Alistair, what in Merlin’s name were you thinking! We do not use transfiguration on students!”
She turned back to where Draco was now being coddled by Pansy and Theo, Hermione and Harry hadn’t moved from where they were shielding him from Moody.
“Mr Malfoy, are you okay? Do you need to see Madame Pomfrey?”
Slowly rising to his feet, he shook Pansy’s hands from his shoulders and stood tall. “No, but I think I might take a trip to the Owlery.”
In a remarkable show of restraint, he stepped forward, nodded his thanks to Harry and Hermione and left with Pansy, Theo and several other Slytherin’s who had gathered in tow.
“You two follow me, and you Professor Moody.”
Professor McGonagall led them to her classroom to ask for a retelling of events. When both Harry and Hermione’s interpretations correlated, she sighed, dismissed them, and asked that they pass on assurance to Draco that the situation would be dealt with. “I’ll also be contacting Professor Snape to let him know what’s happened.”
Leaving the classroom they finally let their emotions out.
“I don’t understand. We weren’t even arguing!”
“He’s mental. I’m writing to Remus.”
“Hermione – it’s the first week of school.” Harry clearly didn’t want to stir up trouble. But this wasn't some minor teacher-student disagreement.
“I don’t care. You’re going to write to Sirius as well. I know Draco will be writing to his father. I don’t trust Dumbledore to actually deal with this. And we’re going to tell them about the lesson.”