Chapter 181: The Unforgivable Curses

Ron took another punch from Zhang Qiu, glared back sullenly, then suddenly remembered something and changed the subject, "By the way, where's the house-elf? You didn't seriously plan to free them, did you?"

"Oh right, this is actually interesting—I heard it from Tang Nade," Hermione eagerly shifted the topic from grim political intrigue to something more engaging, "House-elves don't need freeing—they work for wizards not without compensation."

"What?"

"According to the latest research from Miskatonic University, house-elves actually steal a portion of a wizard's magical ability through a complex ritual, a practice dating back to ancient agreements between wizards and elves. Modern scholars believe this has become, to some extent, an instinctive ability of the elves."

"That's ridiculous," Ron frowned. "Is that even true? I don't believe it."

"I think it's entirely possible," Harry countered.

"I doubt it—he's just padding the article," Zhang Qiu scoffed.

Hermione gave a polite but awkward smile, then said, "Alright, it's just a theory anyway. I'll head back now—is Zhang Qiu in charge of the club now?"

"It'd be best if you handed it to Ivy," Zhang Qiu tapped the desk lightly, "but I'll draft a charter first, discuss it with her soon, then we'll all meet up together."

"Wait, Hermione, there's one more thing," Harry called her back. "You probably know—Hogwarts is very likely to be attacked this year."

Hermione turned to look at him.

"So I want to spread some simple self-defense spells among the students. Do you know anything about that?" Harry asked, pretending not to know.

"Of course," Hermione nodded. "Tang Nade taught me many practical casting techniques—I originally planned to introduce them slightly within the girls' club."

"Good," Harry grinned broadly, then watched Hermione stride off.

Ron sighed softly. "Who would've thought Hermione was such a beautiful girl?"

Zhang Qiu happily flipped her notebook to the first few pages and crossed off one item on her to-do list.

Harry chuckled and pointed at Ron's book. "Time to do your homework."

"Ah, oh, right," Ron absentmindedly scribbled with his quill, still distracted by the two girls he'd noticed.

Over the next few days, under Harry's observation, Zhang Qiu, Ivy, and Hermione drafted the girls' club development plan and began inviting their first members. This matter weighed on Harry's mind, making him occasionally consider the evolving situation and student power dynamics, but it also weighed on Ron's heart—he'd noticed Hermione was eager to learn makeup, and she'd inexplicably invited Lavender.

It wasn't until Thursday, when they had their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class, that they refocused on their studies.

Professor Moody, true to his Auror background, after introducing himself, quickly turned the topic to Dark Magic—just like Tang Nade.

"Dumbledore praised your courage greatly, and the magical world is no longer as stable as before. So I intend to introduce you to these dreadful curses as soon as possible—we'll have a full year to practice defending against them."

"First," Moody paused, his magical eye spinning, "who knows which curses carry the harshest punishments?"

Hermione raised her hand neatly, but Moody didn't call on her—he locked eyes with Neville, who sat slouched.

"Mr. Longbottom, you look unconvinced. Do you already know the answer?"

"I know, Professor," Neville sat up straighter. "The Killing Curse, the Cruciatus Curse, and the Imperius Curse."

"Very good," Moody nodded, slightly surprised. "Then how would you protect yourself against these curses?"

"For the Killing Curse, there's no defense—only evasion," Neville replied. "But for the Cruciatus and Imperius Curses, you need iron willpower to resist. Another way is to strike down the Dark wizard before he casts the spell on you."

"Neville's stealing the spotlight again," Ron muttered under his breath.

"You don't know how much he's paid for it," Harry said seriously.

"Weasley!" Moody suddenly barked. "I know you're whispering—answer the next question!"

Ron looked stunned—he'd been facing away from Moody.

"Tell me," Moody fixed his gaze on Ron, his magical eye still spinning, "what spells can help us defeat Dark wizards?"

"Use Expelliarmus or Stupefy—they're direct-acting spells. To ensure accuracy, we need a series of minor spells or transfigurations to restrict the opponent's movement," Ron thought for a moment, then added, "If your wand's out of reach or knocked away, you can also punch them with a magically infused fist."

Moody blinked both eyes in succession, then murmured, "Dumbledore was right—you're indeed better than I expected. But theory and practice are different. In the coming lessons, I'll focus on resisting the Imperius Curse—the 'iron willpower' Longbottom mentioned."

"But for today's first lesson, you still need to take notes—for example, the Killing Curse requires not only immense magical power, but also a heart full of murderous intent," Moody said. "Without the will to kill, you can't cast it. If you try casting it yourself, it drains your magic, leaving only a bloody nose—and then you'll be locked in Azkaban for life."

"So whether it's a petty argument or you're truly facing a Dark wizard," Moody said sternly, "you must never use this curse. Understood?"

"As for the Cruciatus Curse, it targets the soul, not the body. Those tortured by it feel worse than death, yet leave no physical wounds," Moody continued. "But don't think you can use it freely—soul damage is irreversible. Countless wizards driven mad or stupid by the Cruciatus Curse walk this world—I'm not joking."

"Even if you hate someone, don't do it. If they truly deserve punishment, send them to Azkaban—it's even more tormenting than the Cruciatus Curse," Moody said, his magical eye fixed on Neville. "Anyone who uses the Cruciatus Curse without authorization must pay the price: they'll be sent to Azkaban themselves—worse off, in some ways, than the victim."

"The Imperius Curse has the lightest aftereffects and least damage," Moody said, tapping his wand against the blackboard. "But it's also the least effective—those controlled can break free with their own will, especially if the caster's magic is weak."

"Even so, using the Imperius Curse still means Azkaban—for life."

"You've already studied these curses in detail, and I'm just reiterating," Moody leaned on the desk, his voice grave. "But what I'm about to say is more important—listen carefully, all of you."

"These Dark Arts, especially these three curses, require you to channel negative emotions to work. Otherwise, they fail," Moody said, his real eye fixed on Harry, his magical eye flicking between Neville and Ron. "A kind-hearted person cannot wield Dark Magic. Those who use it are inevitably corrupted—over time, they grow cruel, volatile, gloomy, cold."

"I'm not worried you'll freeze up before Dark wizards," Moody whispered. "I'm worried that some of you will use Dark Magic out of hatred. I don't want my students to walk that path. Understood?"

Harry saw Neville nod solemnly—but only at the end of class did he hear Neville's true thoughts.

"Dark Magic has side effects and isn't even reliable—only Voldemort treats it as a trump card," he sneered. "If I ever meet him, I'll cut off his head with a sword."

"Use the Tempus Charm to close the distance in an instant, then punch straight through his chest," Ron suggested. "Or a flying kick—snap his neck from behind."

"Still using old-fashioned Killing Curses?" Harry mimed holding a rifle. "You should learn Muggle-style killing—snipe his head from eight hundred paces away."

As they excitedly discussed how to defeat their imaginary enemy, they didn't notice the steady thudding footsteps behind them. Professor Moody spoke in a voice both stern and quiet: "You children had better come to my office."

All three fell silent, exchanged helpless glances, then obediently followed him to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom office. Its furnishings hadn't changed much since second year—neither Lupin nor Moody cared much for decorating.

"I don't blame you," Moody sat down and sighed first. "Anyone with your experiences would be impossible not to hate the Dark Lord. Boys your age rarely understand consequences—whether you're trying to dodge the Killing Curse or just want to cast it, I understand."