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Chapter 493: Obsession and Mood Swings
🕑 Added 2025-02-14 12:52:46 +0000 UTCFor a while, the hottest topic at Hogwarts was Sirius Black. The Daily Prophet featured a full page of news on him nearly every day, and waiting for the morning owl delivery had become a daily thrill for some students. Adding to the excitement, Harry was receiving packages almost every morning. They contained everything from sweets and clothes to strange novelty items, all sent by his newly free and doting godfather.
But for fifth-year students, the mounting schoolwork left little time to indulge in gossip. Their professors seemed determined to outdo one another in pushing them to the limit, piling on increasingly difficult assignments. Even Kyle, despite his skills, found himself caught up in the relentless workload. Some professors, such as Snape in Potions and Moody in Defense Against the Dark Arts, never excused him from assignments.
After two weeks of practicing the Shield Charm, Professor Moody announced a test. Initially scheduled for the previous week, the test had been delayed due to disastrous results—students had fumbled incantations, hesitated in casting, and blanked out on the spell gestures entirely. Moody had been so exasperated that he postponed the test, giving everyone an extra week to prepare.
“This time, I’ll be using the Leg-Locker Curse,” Moody warned from the lectern, his magical eye swiveling across the room. “If you can’t successfully block it, then you’ll be spending the rest of your day hopping like frogs.”
Nervous murmurs spread across the classroom, though a few students looked unfazed.
“Some of you are probably thinking, ‘It’s just the Leg-Locker Curse, easily undone, and if I can’t block it, no big deal,’ right?” Moody grinned, his scarred face contorting, making his expression even more unnerving. “But clear that thought out of your heads now. This isn’t your average Leg-Locker Curse; it’s designed for Auror training. The usual counter-spell won’t work.”
With that, he instructed the students to line up along the sides of the room, calling them forward one by one to face the curse.
As the test began, Kyle noticed that the extra practice seemed to have paid off. Professor Moody was casting at a slowed pace, which helped; the first two students managed to deflect the curse with a sturdy Shield Charm, sending it bouncing back in a shimmering arc.
However, the third student stumbled. Likely overcome with nerves, he blanked on the incantation entirely, and his legs immediately snapped together. Forced to hop back to his spot, he tripped, nearly taking a face-first dive into the floor.
When it was Kyle’s turn, he stepped confidently into the center of the room. Professor Moody raised his wand, and this time he didn’t utter the spell out loud. A sudden flash of white light shot toward Kyle without warning.
“Protego!” Kyle called, his Shield Charm springing up instantly. The white light rebounded off his shield, flying straight back at Moody, who dodged it with a quick sidestep.
“Excellent! That’s exactly right!” Moody praised. “Deflecting the curse right back at your opponent is the Shield Charm’s true purpose. All that chaotic bouncing just shows you haven’t mastered it. Very good—ten points to Hufflepuff!”
Kyle accepted the ten points with a smile, though he’d been hoping for a homework exemption instead.
One by one, the rest of the class faced their tests, but the overall success rate remained low. Only about half the students managed to cast the Shield Charm effectively, leaving the unlucky ones to exit the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom hopping like rabbits, much to the amusement of their classmates.
“Listening to the way he talked, you’d think we were about to be ambushed any minute,” Mikel grumbled, limping up the stairs. He’d failed the Shield Charm test at first, only managing to pass his make-up attempt just before the end of class, stumbling numerous times in the process.
“Yeah, the way he’s so paranoid…” Ryan muttered, casting a wary glance over his shoulder to make sure Professor Moody was nowhere in sight. “I heard no one in the Ministry likes him much; they say he’s too twitchy. Even if you just walk past him normally, he thinks you’re out to get him.”
“Maybe Professor Moody is a bit intense,” Cho chimed in, “but it’s good to be prepared. The Shield Charm is important, after all.”
“I get that,” Ryan sighed, “but with everything else we have to do, where are we supposed to find time to really master it? It’s not even on the OWL exams. It would make more sense in sixth year, when we don’t have quite as much homework.”
Yawning, Ryan stumbled and nearly tripped, but Kyle caught his arm just in time.
“Need me to lift the curse for you?” Kyle offered.
As Professor Moody had warned, the usual counter-spells didn’t work on the modified Leg-Locker Curse, though a powerfull Counter-Curse Spell or a General Counter-Spell should have some effect.
Ryan hesitated, then shook his head. “Thanks, but I’ll pass. Moody’s got those magical eyes of his. Who knows if he’s watching from somewhere? Besides, it’s the weekend tomorrow, so I’ll just stay in the dorm and keep out of sight.”
Ryan seemed oddly content with his predicament; he planned to stay in the common room all day catching up on homework anyway. For now, though, he still had to get through the last Potions class of the week.
The dungeon was freezing, colder than usual, and the heavy door groaned on its hinges as it opened.
“Quiet,” Snape commanded, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.
Not that he needed to say anything—Snape had a natural, silencing effect. The students immediately fell silent, holding their breath as he swept his gaze over them.
“Today, we will be brewing the Draught of Peace,” he announced. “A potion to calm and soothe anxiety, and a common topic on exams.” His tone was even, but his eyes gleamed with an unsettling intensity. “However,” he continued, “let me remind you that Potions is a serious discipline, and no cauldron—no matter how costly—can compensate for an empty mind.”
He surveyed their desks as if expecting to find something offensive. After a moment, he nodded, satisfied, and turned to the blackboard. With a wave of his wand, instructions for the Draught of Peace appeared in neat, precise handwriting.
“You will find the preparation method here. Memorize it thoroughly. Any sloppiness in brewing will result in the potion causing a deep, and sometimes irreversible, sleep.”
Another flick of his wand opened the storage cupboard near the door. “Gather your ingredients. You have an hour and a half. Begin.”
