Friday, September 2nd, 1994

"Percy!" Jessica said it with a frustrated tone, standing behind me. "Did you really call the first years 'a bag of little whiny maggots that'll get nowhere is life with your b*tch ass attitude'?"

"Might have done?" I said this as I turned around and refocused on my food. She gave a frustrated grunt before slapping me on the back of my head. "Fine, I did. What's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong with that?" Jessica said it quite loudly. She sat down next to me and looked as if she was ready to pull her hair out.

She took a few deep breaths before she turned to look at me. Jessica took the fork from my hand and slammed it down onto my plate. Now, that got the attention of the rest of the people sitting at the table for breakfast. She gave them a glare, and they returned to what they were doing.

"What's wrong with that? What's wrong is that you said that to the first year at seven in the morning, just before you left with them to do exercise. What's wrong is that you used adult language and made one of them cry," she said.

"Did I say anything wrong, though?" I nonchalantly replied.

"That's besides the point."

"They were a pain in the arse first thing in the morning, and you know I hate waking up early."

"They're children, and for most of them, this is their first time away from home. I don't want your foul morning mood in front of them anymore. And that's why Professor Flitwick has said you'll be doing Friday mornings with them until after the winter break," she said. "I don't want to hear any complaining, and there's no getting out of this. Why do you even volunteer when you know stuff like this can happen?"

"I need something to keep me preoccupied since Flitwick is reducing the number of potions he's giving me, and at the time, it seemed like a good distraction," I said.

"You need to get some help. Go see Madam Pomfrey," Jessica said while rubbing my back.

"Flitwick has booked my in for Wednesday evenings," I said. "Hopefully it helps. Onto a brighter topic: we have Moody next. Can't wait!"

"Don't get me started on that," she groaned. "Today was the day I was supposed to get my beauty sleep."

"Oh, how will you survive without your beauty sleep, princess?"

"Shut up!"

~~~~~~~~

"I see none of you slogged down to Flourish & Blotts like good little boys and girls and brought the required textbooks. Congratulations! At least you all have some initiatives," Mad-eye Moody said with a gruff. "I am Alastor Moody, ex-auror, Ministry malcontent, and your new Défense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I'm here because Dumbledore asked me to train you, and you're here because Dumbledore doesn't believe any one of you has the makings of a champion. Except you."

Mad-eye lifted his walking stick and pointed at me. His blue eyes locked onto me for a few minutes before turning away and taking a swig from his flask.

"Three times under seventeen duelling world champions—not a bad record, kid. Beaxbatons tend to excel at charms, while Durmstrang excels in the dark arts. I am here to give you an edge when one of you faces the Durmstrang champion. Flitwick will help you a lot with charms," he said as he picked up a jar from behind him and placed it on the table. "When it comes to the Dark Arts, I believe in a practical approach. You may wonder what I mean by that. I'll show you. But first, which one of you can tell me... how many Unforgivable Spells there are?"

Moody takes another swig from his flask as he watches the spider scuttle within. The students trade uneasy glances. As his real eye continues to stare at the spider, Moody's blue eye rotate towards the person who raised their hand.

"Jaiden Mensi, correct?" Moody says this as the boy nods. "Slytherin, just like your father. Are you inbred too?"

"No, sir. I'm a bastard," the boy replies. "My mother was a witch from the Lesser Nobel House, Jackson."

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"Answer the question."

"Three, sir. They are the..."

"Let me stop you there, boy. What was the question I asked?"

"How many Unforgivable Spells there are, sir?"

"Spells, not curses. Under the right circumstances, anything could become unforgivable. It was a trick question. Sorry, my boy. Onto the Unforgivable Curses," he said, nodding his head at the boy. "The use of any one of them will earn you a one-way ticket to Azkaban. Now, the Ministry says you're not mature enough to see what these curses are capable of. I say different. You need to know what you're up against. Which curse shall we see first? Theodore White!"

"The Imperious Curse," the Gryffindor boy said.

"Not surprising. Your parents used that as their defence during their trial. Do you know how to tell if they're actually under the Imperious Curse? You don't," Madeye said with a slight chuckle. "Even though they were both Gryffindor, they were more bigoted than most Slytherins. Oh, how I enjoyed hunting them down. Let's see it in action. Imperio!"

As Moody waved his wand, the spider leaped from his palm onto Pricilla's shoulder. As she shrieked, Moody flicked his wand, and the spider bound from Jessica to Jaiden to me, one by one. The other students were chuckling at each other with panic-stricken eyes as it finally landed on the clam Theodore. Moody grinned and then summoned the spider back to his palm, where he slowly circled his wand over it.

"It's a shame one of you did not squirm your tits off," Mad-eye said with a sigh of disappointment. "Talented, isn't she? What should we make her do next? Jump out of a window? Drown herself?"

One by one, the smiles slowly dry up, leaving the classroom in an awkward state. Moody scans the classroom until his eye rotates with a particular interest in Isabel.

"It's Isabel Fitzgerald, is it? I heard about your research project from an acquaintance at Saint Mungo's. Revolutionary stuff if it does work," Mad-eye said with a small nod.

"Thank you, sir. Another Unforgivable Curse is the Cruciatus Curse," Isabel said.

"Yes. Particularly nasty," Moody said as he stepped forward, looming over Isabel's desk, and dropped the spider onto her desk. "Crucio!"

The spider twitched, its legs trembling violently. Moody stood there utterly motionless, his eyes fixed on Isabel, who seemed transfixed by the spider's misery. My eyes drift towards her legs. It was tapping the floor at a rhymical beat. Her sadistic tendencies were showing. I let out a sigh.

"Is there a problem, Percival Ebonwood?" Moody asked.

"No, sir. Nothing at all."

"Perhaps you could give us the last Unforgivable Curse."

"The killing curse."

"Avada Kedavra!"

A flash of green light and a rush of air came out of Moody's wand. The spider rolled onto its back. Dead. I look over to Isabel, and it looks like she's really enjoying this. Her legs were clenched together, and she put one of her hands over her mouth.

"The killing curse. There is no blocking it head on. Only one person is known to have survived it. And he's currently in the Gryffindor common room."

Moody hobbled to the front of the classroom and levitated a cage in front of every student.

"You all are going to practice the Imperious and the Cruciatus Curse. At the start of the next lesson, I'm going to test you all on it. After that, we are going to learn how to best counter them, and after that, we are going to learn the cleansing ritual. Take the cages with you as you leave. You are dismissed."

~~~~~

"Brilliant, isn't he? Completely demented, of course, and terrifying to be in the same room as him, but he has really been there, you know?" Isabel said it with a huge smile. "He's looked evil in its eyes and managed to live to tell the tale."

"You probably got off from it, didn't you?" Jessica asked.

"You know I did," Isabel said. "It's such a turn on. How could I not?"

"I pity your future partner," Pricilla said as she shook her head.