Capítulo 160: Chapter 160: Moody’s Hatred
After class, walking across the soft grass, Lilian's deep crimson eyes flashed with a mixture of frustration and anger. "And they call these magical creatures? They're completely useless! Not only that, but they've stung me several times. If Hagrid brings them out again next class, I'm quitting!"
"I told you, that oaf is completely unreliable," Malfoy sneered, his face full of disdain. "When Dumbledore made him a professor, I knew this school was going downhill. A groundskeeper teaching? Couldn't they find someone better?"
"Actually," Augustus said calmly, "these Blast-Ended Skrewts might have some purpose. Considering the 'big project' Hagrid keeps mentioning, and with the Triwizard Tournament coming up, it's possible these creatures will be part of the challenges."
Malfoy's eyes lit up. "Ah, that makes sense! These aggressive creatures would be perfect for the tournament. But even so, if the school assigned Hagrid this task, he could've raised them himself. Why drag us into caring for these disgusting things?"
"If they're part of the Triwizard Tournament," Lilian mused, "then Hagrid showing them in class might be a way to give Hogwarts students an edge. Familiarizing us with their habits in advance could be considered a form of cheating. This sort of thing happens more often than you'd think."
By noon, the three of them arrived at the Great Hall, which was crowded with students lining up for lunch. Malfoy, holding a copy of the Daily Prophet, was reading it with great interest when he suddenly spotted Harry, Ron, and Hermione. His gray-blue eyes gleamed with mischief.
"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned around.
"What do you want?" Ron asked irritably.
"Your dad's in the papers, Weasley!" Malfoy said, waving the Daily Prophet and raising his voice so everyone in the hall could hear. "Listen to this!"
It seems the Ministry's troubles are far from over, wrote Daily Prophet correspondent Rita Skeeter. Recently criticized for its failure to maintain order at the Quidditch World Cup and its inability to explain the disappearance of a female official, the Ministry has now found itself in further embarrassment. This time, it's due to the peculiar actions of Arnold Weasley of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.
Malfoy looked up, smirking. "Imagine that, Weasley. They didn't even get your father's name right. What a nobody, huh?"
Lilian sighed, shaking her head and stepping away. Malfoy's childish excitement whenever he saw Harry was just too much.
"There's even a picture, Weasley!" Malfoy continued, flipping the paper and holding it high. "Your parents, standing outside your house—if you can even call it a house! And your mum—if she lost a bit of weight, she might almost look decent, wouldn't you say?"
Ron trembled with fury as the crowd watched him.
"And what about your mum, Malfoy?" Harry retorted, grabbing Ron's robes with Hermione to stop him from lunging at Malfoy. "With that expression she always wears, like something stinks under her nose—is it always like that, or just when she's with you?"
Malfoy's gaze turned icy. "Do you know what you just said? Insulting a Malfoy? Are you looking to die?"
Suddenly, a crescent-shaped blue wind blade shot across, grazing Harry's cheek and leaving a shallow cut.
"Oh no, not on my watch, boy!"
Harry spun around to see Professor Moody limping down the marble staircase, wand in hand. On the stone floor trembled a snow-white ferret—the exact spot where Malfoy had been standing moments before.
The Great Hall fell into a stunned silence. Augustus, expressionless, approached the ferret and glanced at it. His tone was calm. "Who gave you the authority to transform a student?"
Moody's mismatched eyes swirled as he stared at the ferret, hatred etched on his scarred face. "I'm your professor. Punishing a student doesn't require permission. Especially when they're cowardly enough to attack someone unprovoked. Such dirty tactics deserve punishment."
Moody began limping toward the ferret, who let out a terrified squeak and tried to hide behind Augustus.
"I won't stand for this!" Moody roared, pointing his wand at the ferret again. Augustus's expression grew cold. A red light shot from his wand, colliding mid-air with Moody's grey spell. A faint explosion echoed in the hall.
"Well, well," Moody sneered, his wand now aimed at Augustus. "The heir of the Julius family, huh? You arrogant pure-bloods always stick together, don't you? Today, let's see if this professor can't teach you a lesson!"
"Sectumsempra!" Moody shouted, unleashing a deadly transparent stream that tore through the air toward Augustus. The Slytherins nearby turned pale—such a lethal spell, just to deal with a student?
Augustus calmly waved his wand, summoning a wall of incandescent white flames that swallowed the spell effortlessly.
Moody's magical eye swiveled to the fire wall, his face darkening. He pointed his wand at a stone table outside the hall. "Wingardium Leviosa!" The table rose into the air and hurtled toward Augustus like a missile.
With a flick of his wand, Augustus halted the table mid-air. An invisible hand seemed to grip it, frost forming across its surface before it crashed to the ground in pieces.
Shaking his head in disinterest, Augustus said, "Your combat style is far too narrow. Your understanding of magic is confined to established spells. You'll never improve at this rate. You'd do well to innovate instead of relying on outdated methods. And transformation magic? Far too flawed—best avoided."
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