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He once again paused and gazed at each of the youths in turn. "Again, you will not be able to master these techniques in the brief time we have available, but by the time you return to Hogwarts, you will at least have a foundation in these subjects, and I will give you further exercises for you to use while you are at school to hone your skills. Assuming you all do well, we will continue these sessions next summer.
"Now, does everyone understand?"
"Yes, sir," the group intoned.
They started with some simple stances, the professor teaching them how best to position themselves and to move, stating that good balance was key to being able to not only fight, but also to defend oneself. From the balancing instruction, the moved to various exercises which would help them shift from stance to stance, as well as to dodge, roll, and otherwise ensure that they could move about during a combat situation in the most efficient manner, while retaining their ability to respond to attacks. And though there were some grumbles from the assembled students of how they wanted to get to the dueling and fighting, Moody was firm, telling them repeatedly that they needed to learn to walk before they could even think about running.
What struck Harry throughout the course of the day was the man himself. He was fair but strict, exacting a high level of commitment from his charges, while putting his all into teaching them what he felt they needed to know. He was clearly knowledgeable, if his years as a top Auror had not already convinced them of his fitness, and the manner in which he taught them was concise and exact, yet his words and demonstrations were designed to be quickly understood and acted upon. When questioned, he told them that the methods he was teaching them were quite similar to what trainee Aurors were taught, modified slightly to account for their younger years and incomplete education. He was effusive with his praise, especially toward Harry, who he almost seemed to consider a prodigy who was his personal responsibility. Harry returned the favor by giving his all, picking up the exercises with ease and helping to instruct the others where required. DADA had always been Harry's favorite class—he was enjoying himself immensely.
But what surprised Harry the most, was the sense of familiarity he had with the professor. In fact, if Harry had not known that the Professor Moody he remembered from his fourth year Defense Against the Dark Arts class was an imposter, he would never have believed that they were not the same person. Whatever Barty Crouch, Jr. had been, a poor actor was not one of them. The man should have been presented an Academy Award, based on the minute details of the grizzled Auror which he had acted out so flawlessly.
There was one memorable event which occurred during the course of the day. Moody had just asked them to do some basic spell casting using the stances he had just taught them, when he pulled up short at the sight of Neville struggling to cast a simple spell through his wand.
"Mr. Longbottom! What appears to be the matter?"
Neville blushed and stammered that everything was fine, but that did not placate the observant Auror.
"Do not try to cover up your struggles, son," Moody admonished. "You appear to be trying to force your spell through your wand, when your magic should be working in tandem with the wand to produce the desired effect. Where did you get that wand?"
"From my G-Grandmother," Neville stammered. "It was my father's."
Moody's remaining eye widened at Neville's admission and he held his hand out, inspecting it carefully once Neville had deposited it in his hand.
"I knew your parents, Mr. Longbottom," he said quietly, "the same as I knew Mr. Potter's." He nodded in Harry's direction. "Good people, excellent Aurors, they were. I was privileged to serve with them.
"Unfortunately, it appears to me that your wand does not match you, which makes casting anything very difficult. I recommend you visit Mr. Ollivander's shop and purchase a new wand which will match you more closely. If you don't, you will have trouble casting even the simplest magic for the rest of your life."
Neville appeared flabbergasted. "Really? But Gran… I thought I could use my father's wand because of our close relationship."
Moody shook his head and clasped Neville around the shoulders. "While it is true that children often have somewhat of an affinity for their parents' wands, we are all different and there is no guarantee. You go today after we are finished here and get a new wand. Tell your grandmother that I insisted. I don't think she will be upset—you will always have a piece of your father with you, as long as you possess his wand."
Thanking him, Neville moved away to continue his exercises, while appearing deep in thought. Harry was glad for his friend—while he could understand wishing to keep something of his parents' close to him, Mr. Ollivander's words from his visit still echoed through his mind. "The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter." Hopefully, Neville would improve once he had his new wand.
The day ended with another pep talk from the professor, and they all separated to go their separate ways. In Harry's mind he felt as though he was finally beginning to obtain the skills he would require to take on Voldemort. It was a welcome feeling.
"I hereby call this session of the Wizengamot of Britain to order!"
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