章節 162: Chapter 162: The Killing Curse
After Thursday lunch, Augustus and his two companions prepared to attend Defense Against the Dark Arts. Joining the throng of students, they navigated the moving staircases scattered across the castle and arrived at the second-floor classroom. The room was already packed with Gryffindors and Slytherins. When the three entered, several Gryffindors exchanged glances and began whispering amongst themselves.
Pulling out The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, Augustus leafed through it idly. Its content was the same repetitive drivel as always, with little of substance. It baffled him how a school dedicated to training wizards provided no truly powerful spells for self-defense beyond basic, mundane incantations. Such an education system bred wizards who, in actual warfare, were nothing but cannon fodder. It was no wonder that, under such circumstances, a so-called Voldemort could dominate the wizarding world for decades, facing little resistance.
The distinctive clunk of Moody's peg-leg echoed through the hallway as he approached. When he entered the classroom, his grotesque and intimidating appearance was as striking as ever, his claw-like wooden foot peeking out from under his robes.
His magical eye swept over the room, pausing briefly on Augustus, who returned the gaze with a polite smile. Moody snorted softly and looked away.
"Put those away," he growled as he stumped to the front and lowered himself into his seat. "Those books—you won't need them."
"I received a letter from Professor Lupin outlining what you've been taught so far. It seems you've learned the basics of handling dark creatures—Boggarts, Red Caps, Hinkypunks, Grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, yes?"
The students nodded in agreement.
"But when it comes to spells, you're woefully underprepared—woefully," Moody said. "So, I'm going to show you the kinds of curses wizards use against one another. I've got a year to teach you how to defend yourselves against the Dark Arts."
"What? What did you say?" Ron blurted out.
Moody gave a peculiar smile. "Children, life in your ivory tower has been too comfortable. It's time for you to face the harsh realities of the wizarding world. This class is called Defense Against the Dark Arts—if you've never truly understood dark magic, then what's the point of it?"
Augustus chuckled softly to himself. How intriguing—to expose impressionable students to the power and allure of dark magic. It was like offering them a taste of a beautiful but deadly poppy, planting seeds of darkness in their hearts to fester and grow.
"So... does anyone know which curses are punishable by the most severe penalties under wizarding law?"
A few hands tentatively rose. Moody's magical eye swiveled to fix on Lilian, seated beside Augustus.
"The Imperius Curse," Lilian answered simply, her deep crimson eyes reflecting distant memories.
"Good," Moody nodded. "Your father's department likely deals with it regularly."
Moody struggled to his feet, opened a drawer in the desk, and pulled out a glass jar containing three large black spiders, scuttling inside. He grabbed one and placed it on his palm for all to see. Pointing his wand at it, he muttered, "Imperio!"
Under the students' watchful eyes, the spider began performing an absurd, almost comical dance.
Augustus crossed his arms, his gaze drifting past the dancing spider to fix on Moody. Over the past few days, Augustus had used his family's resources to uncover the man's true identity through magical surveillance. He now understood who Moody truly was. But why had this man infiltrated Hogwarts? As the offspring of a prominent official, what drove him to take such risks? Was there something within the school he sought? And what of his testimony years ago—so riddled with inconsistencies? It was hard to ascertain where his true loyalties lay.
Moody tossed the somersaulting spider back into the jar.
"Anyone else? Name another Unforgivable Curse."
Moody's magical eye zeroed in on Neville.
"There's... the Cruciatus Curse," Neville said in a quiet but clear voice.
Augustus glanced at Neville, whose face had turned pale. With a soft sigh, Augustus reflected on the toll of past wars. Too many lives lost, too many families destroyed. The pursuit of power left nothing but a trail of bones and rivers of blood. And even if one reached the pinnacle of power, what then? The struggles for worldly authority paled in comparison to the pursuit of magical truth. Without clarity of purpose, who could dare embark on the path to legend?
"The Cruciatus Curse," Moody said, "needs a little more size for you to fully grasp its effects." Pointing his wand at the spider, he incanted, "Engorgio!"
The spider swelled to the size of a tarantula. Ron, unable to hide his discomfort, scooted his chair back as far as possible from the lecture desk.
Moody raised his wand again, pointing at the spider. "Crucio!"
Instantly, the spider curled its legs tightly against its body, writhing and convulsing as if in agony.
The Gryffindor students looked increasingly uneasy, a deep chill settling over them. If such a spell were cast upon them, how long could they endure? Was this the method Voldemort had used to enslave others? Those who prided themselves on unyielding loyalty—how many could truly resist when confronted with magic like this?
"Reducio," Moody murmured, shrinking the spider back to its original size before returning it to the jar.
"Excruciating pain," he said softly. "If you know the Cruciatus Curse, there's no need for thumbscrews or knives... It used to be a favorite."
"Now... any other curses?"
Hermione raised her hand for the third time, though it trembled slightly.
"Go ahead," Moody said, his magical eye fixed on her.
"The Killing Curse," Hermione said softly.
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