A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Black Manor, Dining Room

"Alastor," Mrs. Weasley spoke, coming up from the kitchen downstairs, carrying a plate of vegetable salad and a tray of chicken legs. "I made this with the leftover ingredients; last night's vegetable soup wasn't quite fresh."

"It's fine," Moody said calmly, his blue magical eye fixed on the salad for a moment before he started eating heartily. "Oh, by the way," he looked at Neville, "Frank and Alice should be back around noon. They passed on valuable intel to me."

Neville nodded, his eyes shining.

"What intel?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

"I can't disclose more, in case you get captured by Death Eaters and forced to spill," Moody gruffly said, staring at a chicken leg, sniffing it before biting into it. "Thanks, Molly," he said, tearing into it.

Harry couldn't decide which was more pitiable—Moody's missing nose or the bitten chicken leg. Or was it imagining themselves captured and tortured by Death Eaters, as Moody hinted?

"Don't think I'm joking. Many think they're tough, can endure, act all macho, but with a single Unforgivable Curse—" Moody grinned menacingly, gesturing towards the young wizards by the table who all leaned back.

Mrs. Weasley shot him a reproachful look.

Moody grabbed a second chicken leg. "Molly, they can handle it. I've heard they train extensively; it's not just for show in dueling class, is it? I'm just showing them the real world... You all want to be Aurors?" His normal eye looked at the group.

Harry, Ron, Neville nodded, and surprisingly, Hermione hesitated before nodding too. Ginny, unexpectedly, made the same gesture.

Mrs. Weasley appeared shocked. "Ginny, you're only in your third year! It's too early to think about this."

"Not too early. I'm starting my fourth year," Ginny retorted.

"I say it's too early! You're a girl, and I won't allow—" Mrs. Weasley was furious.

The dining room turned lively for the next few minutes. Ginny argued loudly with Mrs. Weasley, her hair flying around like an angry cat; Crookshanks, who had been lying at her feet, moved closer, staring at the two sources of noise.

"We're going upstairs," Hermione signaled to Harry and the others, trying to escape the commotion, but Ginny left before them, the stairs echoing with her steps. Mrs. Weasley followed, seemingly intent on convincing her to change her mind.

"Shall we, um, go to the training room?" Hermione stood uncertainly, looking at her friends. She wasn't particularly keen on training; she just wanted to steer clear of Professor Moody's spinning magical eye.

The others promptly stood up.

"You alright, Potter?" Moody gruffly asked.

"I'm fine," Harry didn't speak the whole truth. On one hand, he hesitated to tell Ron and the others about his knowledge of the three Unforgivable Curses. On the other, he started worrying about how Dumbledore would react once he saw his memories, feeling all jumbled up inside.

Suddenly, an idea struck him.

"Professor Moody, I have a question," Harry said, then noticed Moody's gaze fixating on him. "The Aurors were permitted to use Unforgivable Curses... was the situation really that dire? And didn't the spells affect you?"

"You're talking about that," Moody mumbled, taking a sip from his flask. "That was more towards the end of the war; it was indeed tough. The Death Eaters' numbers kept increasing, forced or otherwise... Real Death Eaters had direct contact with You-Know-Who, but there were others—like werewolves—who had a lower standing in the Dark Lord's ranks. Regardless, it was nearly a ten-year war, and people were somewhat hopeless. Barty... he was a tough man. Many continued because of him. He suggested to the new Minister, Bagnold, to grant some privileges to Aurors, like using Unforgivable Curses on Death Eaters, among other things, to give them an edge... And Bagnold agreed, a bold witch, I think she was better than her predecessor."

"But does it really work?" Harry asked urgently. "I mean, would a Disarming Charm suffice to subdue the enemy, or Stun them?"

Moody looked at him for a moment, then chuckled. His face grew even more sinister.

"Well, you're not wrong. The Killing Curse, put simply, is a spell that, like chopping off someone's head, can kill. But they're entirely different. These three curses were classified as Unforgivable in 1717, with severe consequences for the user, and they were rarely heard of afterward. However, they didn't vanish; they've always circulated among Dark Wizards..."

"It was the Death Eaters who brought them back to public notice. They shamelessly used these curses, plus with newspapers sensationalizing it, they became legendary. Barty wanted to change that. He believed—there was a need to restore public confidence, and the Killing Curse definitely has more intimidation than the Disarming Charm."

"But you—" Harry stumbled, unsure how to proceed.

"You want to know if I've used the Killing Curse or how it feels to kill?" Moody softly asked.

Harry faltered, and the others remained silent.

"Of course, I have. I remember vividly using the Killing Curse; that Death Eater, Evan Rosier, died that way." Moody revealed with a twisted smile. "But I always aim to capture alive if possible. Azkaban has quite a few friends of mine, but sadly, a bunch escaped a month ago," he muttered, sounding like a curse.

Or maybe Harry misheard, perhaps Professor Moody suddenly craved Fizzing Whizbees, a type of sherbet.

"As for the feeling, there isn't much feeling... When the war raged, we wished the enemies dead clean; there was no time to think much." Moody said dismissively. "You need a tough heart and rich experiences to—"

Footsteps interrupted. Mrs. Weasley descended, and Moody resumed eating his chicken leg.

The conversation seemed to come to an end like that.

"Oh, right, I have something here that might interest you," he said, pulling out a tattered magical photograph from his pocket. Harry saw a small group of people in the picture, some waving, some raising glasses.

"This is—" Mrs. Weasley came to take a look, frowning.

"The original Order of the Phoenix," Moody said gravely. "You've seen it too, right? I'm not sure if you have it, but everyone had one then." He addressed Mrs. Weasley, "Your two brothers were remarkable, died young... I saw Emmeline yesterday; she's alright, just injured—"

He noticed Harry and the others wanting to ask, so he preempted. Mrs. Weasley tightly pursed her lips.

"Was it the fishing expedition?" Harry asked softly; he knew Emmeline, a witch who dressed elegantly but spoke little. She was also a member of the Order of the Phoenix, whom Harry had seen a few times before.

"It seems you know about that expedition. Yes, indeed, you were going

to receive an award, couldn't avoid it," Moody said.

Harry's mind was a whirlwind. He'd heard about this from Mrs. Bones; the Weasleys had been replaced at the time, but he never imagined that the person replacing them was Emmeline Vance from the Order of the Phoenix, and she got hurt.

"She's lucky. Some here, their bodies were never found, or only parts..." Moody seemed to notice Mrs. Weasley's struggle to keep silent, so he handed the photo to Harry. "Keep it; you might not find James and Lily's... I visited once, Godric's Hollow... now it's a ruin."

Harry managed a faint smile, unsure of what to say.

He saw his parents in the photo, smiling at him. Suddenly, he had an intense desire to visit Godric's Hollow. As he lay in bed that night, the urge grew stronger—a strange feeling considering he had never thought about it before.

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