Hogwarts' John Wick

Seeing Moody's unfriendly face, the more timid students shivered in fear.

They hurriedly pulled out their copies of The Dark Arts: A Guide to Self-Defense and waited silently. The atmosphere was unusually quiet, unlike any other class they'd attended before.

"Put those things away."

Moody growled in his gruff voice as he hobbled to the podium, leaning on his staff. He sat down heavily and added, "You won't be needing these textbooks."

The students exchanged puzzled looks but eventually put their books away.

Ron was intrigued. From Fred and George, he'd heard that this class was supposed to be quite fun.

The lesson began with roll call, a standard way for the professor to quickly learn the names of the students.

Without lifting his head, Moody read down the list with his normal eye while his magical eye roved around, scrutinizing each responding student.

"John Wick."

"Here."

At the mention of his name, the atmosphere grew noticeably stranger.

Moody paused briefly but resumed calling out names as if nothing had happened.

"Alright," Moody said after finishing the roll call. "I received a letter from Professor Lupin about your progress last term. You've learned quite a bit about dealing with dark magical creatures."

Mentioning the beloved Professor Lupin emboldened the students, and they murmured their agreement softly.

However, Moody abruptly shifted the tone. "But when it comes to handling curses, you're severely lacking—severely!"

Moody seemed particularly opinionated as his wooden leg thumped against the floor. 

He stared at the students, his magical eye darting erratically. "That's why I plan to give you all a taste of what it's really like between wizards. I have one year to teach you about the three unforgivables—" 

Before he could finish, Ron blurted out nervously, "What? What did you just say?" 

Moody's magical blue eye swiveled sharply to focus on Ron. 

Ron swallowed hard, regretting his outburst immediately. It had been an impulsive slip, and now, faced with Moody's intense scrutiny, he'd rather be facing a room full of spiders. 

Just as Ron was bracing himself to become the first student ever sent to Azkaban for interrupting class, Moody surprised him by laughing. 

"You're Arthur Weasley's son, eh?"

Moody said, eyeing Ron's bright red hair. "Yeah, I see it now. A few days ago, your dad helped me out of a particularly tricky spot. That's right—I'm only teaching for a year, as a favor to Dumbledore. After that, it's back to a quiet retirement." 

Moody seemed unbothered by Ron's interruption, much to Ron's immense relief. 

From across the room, Malfoy let out a quiet snicker, deliberately making it audible. 

The smile vanished instantly from Moody's scarred face, and his magical eye whipped around to fix on Malfoy. 

Malfoy's smirk faded, though his expression still carried a hint of defiance. After all, it was hard to show much respect for someone openly name-dropping connections in class—especially when that same person had attacked you the day before. 

Moody scrutinized Malfoy for a long moment before letting out a rough laugh. His coarse hand slapped the desk loudly, signaling for everyone to refocus on the lesson. 

Moody got down to business—the first Dark Arts Defense class of the term. 

Clutching a piece of chalk in his hand, he barked loudly, "Who can tell me which spells are punished most severely under wizarding law?" 

The question hung in the air as a few trembling hands were raised, including Ron's and Hermione's. 

Moody's gaze swept across the room before pointing at Ron. 

His voice, though gravelly, carried a softer, more measured tone. "Weasley." 

"Uh, right," Ron began hesitantly, "My dad mentioned one once. It's called the Imperius Curse or something, isn't it?" 

"Ah, yes!" Moody boomed approvingly. "Your father would know about that one. The Imperius Curse caused the Ministry plenty of trouble over the years." 

As he spoke, Moody quickly scrawled "Imperius Curse" on the blackboard before hobbling to the desk. Supporting himself with his fake leg, he opened a drawer and pulled out a glass jar. 

"Some of you here aren't entirely unfamiliar with the effects of the Imperius Curse, are you?" 

His magical eye locked onto John, who met his gaze without flinching. Inside the jar, three large black spiders scuttled around frantically. 

Ron instantly regretted speaking up, silently swearing he'd never willingly share a room with spiders again. 

"From what I've heard, back in your first year, a poor child here fell victim to the Imperius Curse."

Moody said as he reached into the jar without hesitation, plucking out one of the spiders. 

He held the spider in his outstretched palm, ensuring everyone could get a good look at it.

Holding his wand aloft, Moody pointed it at the spider and muttered, "Imperio." 

The spider, now under the curse, sprang off his palm, dangling by a single thread of silk as if it were swinging on a trapeze. It spun in midair, somersaulted, and landed on the desk, where it stood on its hind legs and began to perform a tap dance. 

Laughter rippled through the classroom, and even Moody's lips twitched upward ever so slightly. 

"You think it's funny, do you?" he rasped, his voice cutting through the mirth. "Would you still laugh if I used it on one of you? Would you enjoy it then?" 

The laughter died instantly. 

Moody's gaze shifted to John, who had been quiet since entering the classroom.

In a softer, almost menacing tone, Moody continued, "Total control. The victim has no will of their own. I could make them jump from a window, drown themselves, or make them…" His voice dropped further. "…kill someone else." 

The bluntness of his words sent shivers through the room. Faces paled, and unease spread like wildfire. 

Fixing his unsettling gaze directly on John, Moody added, "Wick would understand that feeling, wouldn't you? The helplessness of being completely at someone else's mercy." 

The room fell utterly silent. 

All eyes turned to John. It was well-known that back in his first year, John had once been subjected to the Imperius Curse. 

John's expression remained impassive as ever. He noticed Daphne casting a concerned glance his way. 

With a subtle shake of his head, he reassured her. There was no need to worry—after all, he'd only faked being controlled by Quirrell back then. Let Moody say whatever he liked.

"Years ago, many wizards fell victim to the Imperius Curse. It created a nightmare for the Ministry of Magic—they had to figure out who was lying and who had acted under compulsion." 

"The Imperius Curse can be resisted. I'll teach you how, but it requires immense strength of character. The best defense, though, is to avoid being hit by it in the first place." 

Moody's gaze lingered on John for a moment longer before he suddenly bellowed, "Constant vigilance!" 

The spider was roughly snatched up and tossed back into the glass jar. Moody's gaze swept over the class as he barked, "Who else knows another curse?" 

To everyone's surprise, Neville raised his hand. 

Moody pointed at him. "Longbottom." 

Neville spoke softly but clearly. "There's… the Cruciatus Curse." 

Moody's expression shifted slightly as he focused both eyes—normal and magical—on Neville. From the jar, he pulled out a second spider. 

He muttered an Engorgement Charm, causing the spider to swell until it was larger than a tarantula. 

" Ugh.. " Ron pushed his chair back, as though that would keep him safe. 

Raising his wand, Moody pointed it at the spider and intoned, "Crucio." 

The spider writhed violently, its limbs twitching in agony. Though it made no sound, its tortured movements made it clear that it was screaming internally. 

Neville's face turned ashen. He squeezed his eyes shut, pained and overwhelmed. 

"Stop it!" Hermione's sharp voice broke through, cutting into the heavy atmosphere. 

Moody halted immediately. Lowering his wand, he muttered a spell to shrink the spider back to its original size before tossing it back into the jar. 

"Extreme pain," Moody said softly. "If you know the Cruciatus Curse, you can drive someone insane without any other tools. Now, who knows what the last curse is?"

Hermione raised her hand for the third time, and Moody finally called on her.

"The Killing Curse," Hermione whispered, as if speaking louder might accidentally cause harm.

"Yes, that's the last one, and the most unforgivable one of all... the Killing Curse." Moody's lips twitched as he forced a grim smile.

He pulled out the final spider and raised his wand.

The students' faces were filled with pleading, silently hoping he wouldn't utter the incantation.

"Avada Kedavra."

The words were spoken almost tenderly, like a gentle goodnight.

Green light flared, piercing their eyes, and the spider's body went completely still, without a single visible mark.

It was dead.

Several students clamped their hands over their mouths to suppress screams.

The spider's lifeless body slid across the desk from the impact, heading toward Ron, who recoiled in terror, almost toppling from his chair.

"Quiet, cold, and deeply unsettling," Moody said. "That's the Killing Curse. No counter-spell, no defense against it."

His normal eye focused on Harry, while the magical eye turned toward John.

"As far as people know, only one person has ever survived this curse. And I mean the fully powered Killing Curse," Moody said, his voice steady.

The students exchanged uneasy glances as Moody continued, "The Avada Kedavra requires a tremendous amount of magical strength as its foundation. Any of you could draw your wands, point them at me, and recite the incantation."

Moody chuckled, though the sound was as unpleasant and unnerving as the curse itself. 

"I suspect the worst I'd suffer is a bloody nose. Just like Wick—his situation was both pitiful and remarkably lucky. The person who cast the curse on him was so weak, they probably didn't even have as much magical power as you lot do now."

Hearing himself mentioned again, John grimaced.

Really? There was an actual "Boy Who Lived" sitting over there who'd taken Voldemort's Killing Curse head-on and he talks about the killing curse of Quirrell?

(A/N: You guys remember how Hagrid carried John, Draco, and Harry when Quirrell suddenly emerged and cast a killing curse at John? Ch 29)

Could Moody give him a break for once?

The reason the Unforgivable Curses were labeled as such was simple: using any of them meant a guaranteed trip to Azkaban.

Of course, Moody wasn't going there.

Reality was what it was. You couldn't expect some people to be treated the same as ordinary folks.

After class, the students bolted from the room like freed rabbits, their steps hurried as they chattered about the lesson.

"John, you've collected two out of the three Unforgivable Curses," Malfoy quipped.

As he said this, Goyle, distracted by talking to Crabbe, walked straight into the back of Malfoy's head.

Well, Fatty fell down.

_________

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