"Professor Moody is way too fierce! Just looking at him I thought he'd be some really crazy guy, but I didn't expect him to be that upright!"
Early the next morning in the Great Hall, John was sitting next to Link, talking nonstop.
Just looking at those faint dark circles under his eyes, it was obvious he hadn't slept last night from excitement.
Link shook his head speechlessly. Teenagers are just like that, mysteriously sentimental for no reason.
In Link's view, Moody had simply found some excuse to mess with Draco.
What bothered Link more was that Moody had also spoken similar warning words to him.
Since Link still didn't know whether this Moody was actually little Barty in disguise, it was really hard for him to figure out what the man's true intentions were.
But it didn't matter, if he was fake, sooner or later he'd slip up.
He casually humored John with a couple of words, and just then an owl dropped off today's Daily Prophet at Link's side. So he started eating breakfast while reading the paper.
But once he looked, Link's expression instantly became heavy.
Because today's front-page headline was carrying a piece of news shocking enough to shake the entire wizarding world.
Peter Pettigrew had escaped.
Of course, since Peter Pettigrew had never officially been transferred to Azkaban, what he broke out of wasn't Azkaban, but the dungeons of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
But that was still an extremely high-difficulty job.
Because that dungeon was guarded in shifts around the clock by Aurors, its defenses not much weaker than Azkaban itself.
And since the Ministry already knew Peter was an illegal Animagus, then for him to still successfully escape under such circumstances, there was only one possibility left.
'The Ministry definitely has an inside traitor!'
Staring at the moving photo of Minister Fudge bowing in apology, Link sighed and thought so.
In truth, he'd already guessed this would happen when he heard the Ministry was dragging its feet on transferring Peter. So even hearing the news now, he wasn't too shocked.
What Link felt more was helplessness, helplessness at the overpowering inertia of the story itself.
But then again, maybe such story inertia could be seen as a good thing?
After all, that meant that even with Link himself acting as a butterfly flapping its wings, in the end Voldemort would still be defeated by Harry, the chosen savior.
So should he change strategies, and instead support Harry, the official savior?
The very moment that thought surfaced, Link quickly shook his head, throwing it out of his mind.
Pinning hope on someone else, that was the stupidest action of all.
Link still preferred to trust himself.
Thinking that, he took a deep breath and continued reading the newspaper.
Besides Peter's escape, the Daily Prophet carried other stories, one, that Barty Crouch Sr., head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, had been attacked on his way home and was now hospitalized in St. Mungo's.
Without a doubt, that was the work of old Karkaroff's lot.
Another story was about the Quidditch World Cup riot.
On this event the paper spent no less space than on Peter's escape, because that night the Dark Mark had been seen in the sky.
The Ministry was truly a mess.
Whether to pass the blame, or simply from overactive imagination, they directly linked the three incidents together, saying the Death Eater remnants had plotted everything, both to take revenge on Barty Crouch Sr. and to break Peter Pettigrew out at the same time.
And they wrote it so convincingly, if Link didn't know the truth inside out, he might almost have believed it.
But that didn't stop the Daily Prophet from launching heavy criticism at the Ministry's weakness.
As a result, today's paper could basically be called a special issue just for bashing the Ministry.
Link was utterly speechless about that.
Because the Prophet's behavior was just like a shameless fence-sitter, swinging whichever way the wind blew.
Yesterday they were happily collaborating with Fudge, showering him with praise.
Today, just for clicks, they could push him into the mud pit and stomp him down a few more times.
So, is that the core secret of running a media outlet?
Link had no interest in figuring it out. He quickly finished breakfast, then headed with still-chattering John toward Greenhouse Three.
The first class of the year was Professor Sprout's Herbology, and as Hufflepuffs, they absolutely could not be late.
Unfortunately, Professor Sprout didn't seem to care about their feelings. Her very first assignment for Hufflepuffs was collecting pus from Bubotuber plants.
Not a pleasant task at all.
Because Bubotubers were horribly ugly. They didn't look like plants at all, more like big, black, slimy boogery slugs. They poked straight out of the soil, squirming faintly.
And what they had to squeeze were the big boils growing on them, each one filled with thick, sticky pus.
This pus was actually a useful material, it could cure stubborn acne, and was also an ingredient in many beauty potions.
"Alright, everyone put on your dragon-hide gloves. Remember, never touch these plants with bare hands. Even diluted, Bubotuber pus can cause unusual damage to the skin!"
Professor Sprout said while putting on her own gloves and demonstrating how to squeeze.
She grabbed a Bubotuber and gave it a hard squeeze, at once a flood of yellow-green liquid sprayed out, carrying a pungent gasoline-like stench.
All the Hufflepuffs grimaced at the sight. But under the weight of their Head of House's authority, they obediently got to work without complaint.
Still, it was just too disgusting.
Many girls couldn't help vomiting up their breakfasts.
Link, though, stayed expressionless, because he had closed off his heightened senses spell and fully engaged Occlumency.
After finishing the nightmare task of squeezing boils, they rushed down to the Black Lake for Care of Magical Creatures.
That at least made many students sigh in relief, though a few still wore oddly satisfied expressions, as if the previous class had fulfilled them somehow.
Link couldn't understand that at all.
Popping pimples only feels good if they're your own. Doing it to others just feels gross.
But soon those few would also wear expressions of pain, because Hagrid's first lesson for them was feeding Blast-Ended Skrewts.
These were whitish-gray, slimy creatures that looked like giant lobsters without shells, revolting.
They had no heads, legs sticking out all over their bellies, and some tails tipped with stingers that could explode. Many students got hurt right away. Worst of all, they reeked strongly of rotten fish and shrimp.
Their food was leftover frog liver waste from Potions class, disgusting on top of disgusting.
Put together, even patient Hufflepuffs started grumbling.
Link couldn't understand Hagrid at all.
That guy seemed like he just couldn't feel at ease unless he was constantly courting disaster.
One glance told Link the Skrewts were Hagrid's own hybrid creation, using magical creature cross-breeding techniques, an illegal and dangerous act.
Yes, the Ministry was already considering repealing that law, but without doubt, if someone made a fuss about Skrewts, Hagrid would be in trouble again.
After a full hour, they finally returned to Hogwarts for lunch.
But after Bubotubers and Skrewts, no one really had an appetite.
The only cheerful thought was that in the afternoon they would finally have their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class of the year, with Professor Moody.
All through lunch, John once again chattered endlessly about how much he looked forward to it. From his words, Moody sounded like the perfect combination of all past professors' strengths,
As knowledgeable as Quirrell, as entertaining with stories as Lockhart, and as practical with training as Lupin.
Through him, Hufflepuffs' anticipation for Moody only grew stronger.
Even some Ravenclaws were influenced, thanks to John's girlfriend Lilian.
So when the lunch break ended, everyone arrived early at the Defense classroom, laying out Advanced Defensive Magical Theory on their desks and sitting in model student poses.
Link too looked forward to the lesson, but for different reasons.
He wanted to use Moody's performance to judge whether this Moody was the genuine one.
So when that distinctive limping footstep sounded outside, Link immediately activated his heightened senses, focusing on the doorway.
Soon, Moody entered.
Everyone instinctively tensed. The last whispers instantly died away, because Moody's appearance was simply too terrifying.
In broad daylight, his scarred face and the monstrous claw-like peg leg jutting from under his coat were even clearer.
"Put those textbooks away, you won't be needing them!"
Moody said as he hobbled to the front, leaning heavily on his staff, his harsh, rasping voice echoing.
Link understood the tone, it was because of the massive scar across his throat, clearly from someone who had destroyed his vocal cords.
At once, with a chorus of rustling, everyone shoved their books back into their bags, then turned eager eyes on Moody.
Because putting away books meant he'd be teaching something special and unique, just like Lupin had the year before.
Moody himself looked calm.
He raised the roll and began calling names. His normal eye stayed fixed on the list, while the magical one spun constantly, watching each student as they answered.
The girls squirmed uneasily, remembering what Link had once told them, that Moody's magical eye could see through things.
When his roll call reached Link, Link clearly felt that dark-blue pupil suddenly contract.
Even Moody's voice paused for a beat.
That was a sign he had sensed Link probing him with heightened senses.
But Link had expected this. He didn't avoid it, just kept staring at Moody.
After all, even if caught, he could easily excuse himself as just using the spell to focus in class.
Sure enough, Moody only stared at him for a moment, then continued calling names.
"Alright. Everyone's present."
He closed the roll and said, "Before I came to teach here, I received a letter from Professor Lupin. He wrote in detail about your progress."
"Looks like you already know the basics of handling dark creatures, boggarts, redcaps, grindylows, kappas, even werewolves. Am I right?"
The students all nodded.
Moody gave a twisted grin and continued, "But what you must understand is, handling dark creatures is only a tiny part of Defense."
"What we really need to beware of isn't creatures at all, it's dark wizards! On this point, Lupin doesn't seem to have told you much."
"Luckily, we still have time. Over this year, I plan to give you a taste of the difference between ordinary wizards and dark wizards, and teach you how to survive when facing them!"
The classroom fell utterly silent.
Everyone held their breath. Moody's weird voice and grim smile instinctively gave them a bad feeling.
"Link Flamel!"
Moody suddenly barked, almost roaring, "Stand up and tell me, what is a dark wizard?"
"Generally refers to evil wizards, specifically those who have mastered and habitually use evil Dark Magic, and who have committed unforgivable crimes with it."
Link didn't jump like the others. He answered calmly and evenly.
"Not bad! The key to dark wizards is their evil hearts and their Dark Magic!" Moody said, then suddenly roared again, "But I didn't say you could sit down yet, Link Flamel! Keep standing!"
Link, who had just started to bend his knees, straightened again.
At the same time, his gaze at Moody grew sharp and unfriendly.
He could already sense faintly that Moody was deliberately retaliating for his earlier probing.
Moody grinned right back, staring at Link. The two locked eyes in silent challenge for a few moments.
Then Moody, almost chanting, said slowly, "Now then, Link Flamel, tell me, among all Dark Magic, what is the most deadly, the most evil curse of all?"
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