The two weeks following the events of the Quidditch World Cup passed quickly. During this time, the newspapers didn't fail to report on what had happened: the Dark Mark in the air, the number of injured, the material losses, and a fairly direct criticism of the Ministry for attempting to incriminate fourteen-year-old children instead of doing their jobs. This review had been written by a journalist named Rita Skeeter, someone Sirius had claimed was not to be trusted and who always found a way to twist the truth. With those words, Salazar knew she was someone to be wary of if they ever met.
Those two weeks had been busy. The same day he arrived home, he had met with Helga, who was quite worried about the situation. First, for Salazar's safety, as it seemed Kingsley had told Helga what had happened in the forest clearing. Second, because of what the presence of those events could potentially mean.
"So, the Triwizard Tournament," Salazar murmured when Helga told him what she had heard from the Ministry the afternoon before he went to buy his school supplies. "I don't like it." Helga had told him what she knew about the tournament.
The day the school year began, Salazar woke up feeling sad and heavy; it was a kind of bad omen. Salazar checked his trunk, trusting that if anything was left behind, Sirius would send it to the castle, but he preferred to make sure that didn't happen. He had it meticulously organised, so that everything useful to him would fit without any problems. If it hadn't been for Helga's warning about the tournament, Salazar would have wondered why they had been made to buy dress robes when the only official gala was the graduation ceremony for the seventh years.
"Are you ready, Harry?" Sirius asked, peeking into the room.
"Almost. I'm just finishing up checking my trunk."
"I'll wait for you downstairs. We'll go by Apparition."
"Okay."
Salazar had always used the Muggle entrance to get to the station; now it was time to do it the magical way. He felt like experiencing the journey from that perspective. He lowered his trunk by levitating it, knowing that Sirius wouldn't say anything to him for using magic inside the house. Besides, the Trace only affected those who lived in Muggle areas, which Salazar found quite ironic. Who was being protected like this? The wizard or the Muggles? He thought that system had to be reviewed. There had to be another way to protect magic without exposing that important part of the population.
As soon as they arrived at the station, Salazar immediately began to look for a space, a compartment where they could sit. He had arranged to meet Godric and Rowena; he also knew that Ron and Hermione, at the very least, would join them. It didn't take long for him to find an empty compartment where he left his things and got off the train again to say goodbye to Sirius. One thing Salazar liked about his godfather was that he gave him autonomy; he didn't follow him around, treating him like a small child or wrapping him in cotton wool.
The train began to move, and the compartment door opened, with Ron, Ginny, and Hermione rushing in while the twins said something about having met Lee Jordan. Rowena looked up from the magazine she was reading, a copy of the Quibbler, and glanced at them.
"You came running," Rowena observed.
"Very funny, Luna," Ginny protested. "The taxis that were supposed to pick us up got lost, so we almost missed the train."
"At least there's no flying car this time," Godric said with a laugh. "That was pretty epic."
"That was nonsense!" Hermione exclaimed. "A foolish thing that this pair did."
"It wasn't the most brilliant idea," Salazar acknowledged. "But what could I do? I was a clueless twelve-year-old next to another clueless twelve-year-old."
"At least you didn't demolish anything in the castle," Rowena whispered. "With what it must have cost our beloved founders to build it."
"A lot of effort, sweat, and dedication," Salazar agreed jokingly, but the reprimand in those words hadn't escaped him.
"For a dragon to try to set the rock on fire just because a brave man woke it up by tickling it," Godric added.
"What?" Ron asked while Ginny covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.
"That's the school's motto. You're playing with the school's motto," Hermione said to Godric with a smile. "In which book does it say that it was Godric Gryffindor who tickled a dragon?"
"It's a family secret. Maybe one day I'll tell you, Hermione," Godric replied.
"I've gotten lost. Do we have a motto?" Ron asked.
"Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus," Salazar whispered. "That's the motto."
"What language is that?" Ron asked, puzzled. "I only understood 'Draco,' and I don't think the Malfoys were involved." At that moment, Ginny couldn't resist any longer and laughed. Hermione and Godric stood apart from the rest, talking to each other, and Rowena looked at Ron as if he were a specimen to be studied.
"Never tickle a sleeping dragon," her friend said before ignoring the boy and looking back at her magazine. "I've got it, it's a mixture of Old Gaelic and Viking language."
"Is the motto in Viking?" Ron asked.
"No. The motto is in Latin, one of the ancient languages that magic often uses as a vehicle. She's talking about the magazine's riddle now. The Quibbler often encrypts messages in its puzzles from time to time."
"Ah. Do you play chess, Harry?"
"I'm not very good at it, Ron. And you need rivals at your level. Maybe if you try playing against yourself without thinking you're playing against yourself..."
"That sounds like a bore, but okay."
The next few hours were spent talking about the World Cup, about what adults had not wanted to fully explain, about the articles that had appeared in the newspapers, and speculating that if there had been no deaths, they had conjured the Dark Mark to generate terror—a way of saying "we're still here." But both Godric and Rowena shared Salazar's fear that Voldemort was probably on the move. Salazar was not someone who believed in coincidences.
When they arrived at Hogsmeade station, it was raining. As they had moved north, the weather had gotten worse. At that rate, it didn't matter if the first years crossed the lake by boat or by swimming. Especially since Hagrid, due to his circumstances, hadn't been able to develop his magic properly, much less with his broken wand hidden in his umbrella. When he got out, he could see that, in fact, it was Hagrid who was collecting the first years. It would have been better if they had sent a teacher capable of protecting the students from the water on that occasion.
"At this rate, the lake is going to overflow," Ron said.
"It would have to rain a lot for that to happen," Salazar said, sure of what he was saying. "Let's go to the carriages." He wasn't worried about the rain or getting wet, for he could always use a Drying Charm on himself and everyone else afterward.
When they reached the hall, Salazar could see Peeves launching water balloons at those who were entering through the door. Fortunately, he managed to prevent the one thrown in his direction from hitting one of his friends. Then, while Professor McGonagall tried to scold Peeves, Salazar took control of the poltergeist's remaining balloons and had them chase him until they burst over him.
"Well done, Potter, although magic isn't allowed in the hallways."
"I know, Professor."
"And to think that I wanted to attend the banquet this year. Dumbledore did well to listen to us and refuse."
"I suppose that wouldn't sit well with him," Godric said.
"Not much," the teacher admitted. "It caused damage to the kitchens. Now go sit down."
It was evident that the teacher was preparing to receive the first-year students. They walked inside the Great Hall where Salazar was kind enough to dry them all before going to sit down at the table. Rowena had to separate from them, as it was an official act, and they could not mix with other tables. Godric and Salazar sat on one side, next to the twins; Hermione, Ron, and Ginny took a seat across from the two friends.
"Well, the kitchen staff will be happy with Peeves," Hermione said.
"The house-elves won't be very happy, that's for sure," Salazar confirmed.
"Are there house-elves here, that is..."
"It's not slavery, Hermione," Godric said. "If they aren't bound to the magic of an institution or to a master, they would die. They feed on the magic of that union. It's true that there are many wizards who treat them badly, and that this should be properly regulated, but many mentalities have to change to get there."
"I'd like to help them."
"I know."
The Sorting didn't take long to begin; it was noticeable that the first-year children were cold. That was no way to treat students. There were times when Salazar wished that the four of them could take control of Hogwarts just to fix the obvious negligence committed by the Headmaster. Because honestly, Salazar felt that Dumbledore was not a suitable Headmaster. He couldn't be when he allowed his students to run the risk of catching pneumonia by having them in those circumstances.
---
On the same night of September 1st, after the welcoming feast, two fourth-year students remained in the Slytherin common room, tucked away in a corner. The rest of their peers were either finishing conversations or listening to instructions from the prefects. Draco didn't care what the prefects had to say; it didn't concern him. He preferred to be with those he considered his true friends and take advantage of these moments when they could speak freely.
"Did you do it, Draco?" one asked.
"Halfway," Draco replied. "I had a conversation with Sirius Black. He seemed willing, though at the same time, I could sense his distrust. What about you?"
"I've started moving some capital. I could have a place of my own by the end of this year," the other said. "The problem would be not using any magic until I reach the age of majority. My father can't disinherit me unless he remarries and has another son."
"My mother wasn't about to run away," Draco said quietly. "I know my father makes her miserable, but I don't want her to lead me to a point of no return."
"You haven't made up your mind, then," his friend said.
"Yes, I have; I just have some doubts."
At that moment, the conversation stopped as they noticed some classmates approaching them. What they had to say was postponed for a time when they knew they were among people they absolutely trusted. If they were to reveal their ideas of not following the Dark Lord upon his return and of fleeing their families, all their plans would be ruined.
"It must have been fun to be on the front line when those noble wizards put those filthy Muggles in their place," said Pansy Parkinson, sitting down opposite Draco with her beady eyes.
Draco rolled his eyes. Did this girl not understand that he wanted nothing to do with her? This was another reason he had to leave on his own terms. He wouldn't be surprised if his father was trying to arrange a marriage with her to establish an alliance with the Parkinsons. It was something Draco neither wanted nor could tolerate.
"I wasn't on the front lines," Draco said.
"Neither were we," Crabbe said, gesturing to himself and Goyle.
"Our parents didn't let us participate. Unfortunately," Goyle added.
"I wasn't even at the World Cup final," Blaise Zabini said. "I was with Italy, and they were eliminated in the round of 16."
"I didn't want to go. I always found the sport stupid," Theo Nott whispered.
"My father didn't let me go," Pansy said. "Quidditch is not a sport a proper lady should watch. But he described everything they did to those loathsome beings. I would have liked to enjoy it. It's a shame that the one who launched the Mark interrupted them. Apparently, that wasn't part of the show. Too bad no disgusting Muggles or Mudbloods died."
"Too bad the Mark appeared just as the Aurors were about to catch them," Draco whispered with a hint of irony in his voice. "The Dark Mark was a sign of death for the Dark Lord's enemies, but for his allies, it was a signal to retreat."
"If the goal was to terrify an entire crowd in celebration, it was accomplished," Theo added after Draco's words. "Even if no one died."
"What if we talk about something more cheerful?" Blaise interrupted. "What do you think about the tournament? Do we have a chance?"
"It's for adults, Blaise," Theo warned.
Draco sighed. He had already known about the tournament before arriving at the castle. His father had told him about it and had also complained that it was a shame Draco couldn't participate due to the new age restriction. Draco didn't see that as a bad thing, but as a good thing—the perfect way to make his father believe that he failed miserably at sneaking into the tournament. He knew that his father's intention was for the Malfoy family to accumulate more and more power. Personally, Draco found the tournament to be stupid. He had reviewed its history and saw that it was a ridiculous way to risk your neck for a trophy. Eternal glory? Of course, you would get it. Dying in the most stupid way anyone could imagine was a sure bet.
"Are you thinking of sneaking in?" Draco asked Blaise, ignoring the nonsense from Pansy and the "bodyguards" his father had sought out for him. "There are better ways to get into the important pages of history."
"Only an idiot would offer himself up as cannon fodder for the entertainment of others," Theo said.
"I don't care what you say. I plan to try," Blaise said.
"Right. At this point, I'm going to sleep," Draco said, beginning to tire of the conversation. "If you happen to get in, I'll start picking out flowers for your funeral. Will you sing from the coffin, Theo?"
"Of course," Theo said with a wry smile.
---
The week progressed. After a long weekend, which included Friday, classes began the following Monday. From what Salazar heard in the hallways, the class that was generating the most excitement was Defence Against the Dark Arts. This meant they had a competent teacher again, or at least that's how it seemed. This also made Salazar curious about how the professor would approach the curriculum. It was a pity that he had to wait until Thursday afternoon to meet him. He tried beforehand to ask students in other years what they had done in their class, but he was met with a wall of silence and expressions of having enjoyed the lesson. It seemed they wanted to keep the mystery going, or perhaps the professor had cast a spell to prevent them from talking.
Thursday finally arrived. Salazar sat in the front row next to Godric, while Hermione and Ron did the same at the next desk. The teacher was not yet in the classroom, so it was gradually filling up. For the first time, it was noticeable that many students were unhappy about not being able to get the front spots. Had it generated so much anticipation? Salazar assumed he only had to wait a few minutes to find out. At least he hadn't detected any spells cast against the students in the classroom, aside from the famous curse on the stall that everyone was talking about. It was a curse he couldn't remove on his own; it would take the work of all four of them to do so, or for the person who cast it to die—unless it was a curse of Egyptian origin, in which case, not even with that.
"Put everything away in your bag!" a voice growled from the door. "You won't need it. Not the books, not the wands. I want your full attention." The professor entered the classroom, his wooden leg rattling on the floor. Silence immediately fell. Salazar could concede that the professor seemed intimidating. It was time to see the rest. "When I say put all that away, I mean the gossip rag, Miss Brown. This is not the class for catching up on your favourite singer's latest scandal."
Some students laughed. Others looked on in surprise. Salazar frowned and exchanged a fleeting glance with Godric. Somehow, the professor had been able to see what Lavender had taken out, even though she was behind him. Salazar assumed the eye had something to do with it—the prosthetic-mechanical eye. He made a subtle gesture to Godric, who nodded. They were both thinking the same thing. With that eye, he could see many things that would escape a normal person. That was, from a certain point of view, an advantage. It was also an inconvenience, depending on how you looked at it.
"I'll be here for a year teaching as a favour to Dumbledore. Nothing else," he said sharply. "I received an owl from your previous teacher with the contents you've seen in class. From what I'm told, this class is highly trained and skilled in dealing with different dark creatures, but you're a little behind in curses." The professor looked at them one by one with both his normal eye and his mechanical eye. "That will be what we dedicate this course to: to learn what one wizard is capable of doing to another." A new moment of silence, in which the enthusiasm of the whole class could be felt. "The Ministry would consider that you should not see these things until the sixth year, which means that the unwary who leave this matter are left without the necessary knowledge to survive. The Ministry's vision is somewhat narrow; it considers you too young. I have another opinion: the sooner you know what you are facing, the better for you. Both Dumbledore and I think you're ready to learn what Unforgivable Curses are. Can anyone tell me why they are called that?"
"Because their use on human beings is punishable by life imprisonment in Azkaban," Hermione piped up.
Salazar had read a little about that, and although that was the judicial response, it was not the one he would have given. These curses acted directly on people's minds and their dignity, like many others. The difference was that for them to work, the caster had to want the effect to happen and in some cases, enjoy it. He was debating whether to mention it or not when the professor spoke again.
"Good. Does anyone know what they are?"
Some whispered with excitement. Some raised their hands, eager to participate. Salazar didn't understand the reason for the enthusiasm. Didn't they see that this wasn't about funny things? He didn't understand how they could be moved by a class that was actually a life lesson. One of those who raised his hand was Ron, which surprised Salazar. Ron didn't usually participate in class. The professor gave the red-haired Weasley the go-ahead.
"My father told me about one: the Imperius Curse."
"Ah, yes, one of the Death Eaters' favourites to bend people's will," said the professor. "That curse brought the Ministry to its knees a few years ago. Now you will see why." He pulled a tarantula from one of his jars. Salazar was able to see Ron recoil. This reminded him of his arachnophobia. The professor pointed at the spider. "Imperio!"
The spider came down from the professor's hand, detaching itself with a thread and began to swing as if on a swing, describing an increasingly wide arc, gaining more and more momentum until it jumped, somersaulted in the air, and landed on the table, leaning only on its hind legs and bowing as if it were an actor greeting the audience at the end of a play. Most people in class laughed at that.
"Do you think it's funny?" the professor asked, looking annoyed. "What if I order you now? To jump out of the window? To drown in the lake? This curse supposes the annulment of the will. They could make you commit the most horrendous crimes and even make you murder your families." That sank in with the students. "Many of the Death Eaters captured after the fall of the Dark Lord claimed in their trials that they had been and acted under the Imperius Curse, and thus escaped. I ask myself, who is lying?" He left a few moments of silence. "Who will name the next one?"
The class had become a little tense after the spider episode and the teacher's reprimand. That professor hadn't taken points from them, but he had spoken to them as rudely as if they were outside the castle. These curses were no game. This time, only two dared to raise their hands: Hermione, which was no surprise, and Godric. Salazar could tell that both had very tense expressions.
"Longbottom," the professor pointed out.
"There's the Cruciatus."
"Yes, the Torture Curse. Many Death Eaters enjoyed using it. Now I'll show you why." He aimed at the spider he had previously bewitched and greatly increased its size before applying the curse. "Crucio!"
The spider began to convulse and writhe. Its screams filled the classroom. It was a frightening sight. As the curse was maintained, it intensified, which was noticeable in the spider's jerks, how it writhed, and the increasing intensity of its screams. Salazar thought that death would be much more merciful than that curse. Salazar thought he knew why. Before he could say anything, Hermione intervened.
"That's enough!"
That stopped the teacher in his tracks, who stared at her and then at the whole class. It didn't take a genius for Salazar to know that the whole class was horrified. They no longer took it as a joke, which could be considered an advance; if it weren't for the fact that everything had become a horror movie. He noticed the spider, which was still spasming after the curse it had suffered.
"Perhaps Miss Granger would like to give us the last one," said the professor, addressing Hermione. She made a negative gesture with her head. "No? Does anyone dare?"
"Avada Kedavra," Salazar whispered.
"The last and the worst," said the professor. Salazar wasn't sure that was the worst. "The Killing Curse." The professor pointed to the battered spider and spoke the words. A green flash hit the spider, which fell dead instantly. "There is no counter-curse, no way to stop it. Only one person is known to have survived it, and he is in this classroom."
They spent the rest of the class taking notes on the three curses, which were dictated by the teacher himself. They were quite extensive and detailed notes on each of the curses. At the end of the class, he told them that he would subject them to the Imperius Curse so that they would recognise what it felt like and see if they could resist or not. But that would be in a few weeks, when they would have properly studied this curse.
---
Rowena looked up from the Ravenclaw table and waved to them. Ginny was already with her. She was surprised that Godric was not with them, which was uncommon. It wasn't that they were never separated, but they were almost always together at mealtimes. Besides, they all had frightened expressions, as if they had seen a ghost or something similar.
"What's going on?" Rowena asked them.
"Moody," Hermione replied, looking furious.
"What did he do? Release magical creatures into the classroom and lock you in with them?" she asked. That was what he had done in their own class.
"He showed us the Unforgivable Curses," Salazar said in a very serious tone.
"Oh. So that's why Neville hasn't come with us," Rowena said. She understood the implication.
"Professor Moody took Neville away to talk to him separately," Ron said. "It looked like he was about to cry."
"You'd be crying too if our parents were in St Mungo's, completely insane after being tortured," Ginny snapped at her brother. "After the Chamber of Secrets incident, I was taken to St Mungo's for a check-up, and we met Augusta Longbottom. That's how I found out."
"I..."
"You seem cruel sometimes, Ron," Rowena told him. "You have your funny moments, but you're cruel when you don't think about what you're saying."
"I'm sorry."
"Apology accepted."
"Did you say he put you in a room with magical creatures?" Salazar asked, looking at Rowena and Ginny.
"That's right. Something to make us see that we have to always be alert. Anyone would think we're going to have a seizure," Ginny said.
"It never hurts to be cautious," Rowena said. "His methods seem a bit too brutal, though. The world is too brutal, really."
"And people are excited about his classes," Salazar whispered. "They're entertained by something that's actually a life lesson."
"They live in a world that is too safe," Rowena mused. "A world that the Ministry has filled with cotton wool and happiness, and they don't see that Mars is announcing a new contest."
"You sound like the centaurs we found in the forest in the first year, Luna. Remember, Harry?" Hermione said, addressing Salazar. "'Tonight Mars shines brightly. Mars is the lord of war. The first to die are the innocent,'" she quoted them.
"True," Salazar admitted, taking a sip of his mandrake juice. "Bearing in mind that we've known since the first year that Voldemort is still alive, I wouldn't be surprised if the fuse was lit at any moment and a war broke out."
"That's a little depressing," Ron said. "I've had enough of depressing things with Divination. Harry, since you left, you don't stop saying, 'Your best friend will die.' I get tired of hearing it."
"If he had died all the times you've said it, it would be a medical miracle," Ginny said, chuckling.
"You'd be the rarest case of Lazarus Syndrome ever documented," Hermione laughed.
"What's this about Lazarus?" Rowena asked.
"And what's this about the forest?" Ginny asked.
"Hermione will tell you," Salazar said, standing up. "I'll go and find Neville. Ron, eat more calmly; no one is going to take your food."
---
Godric walked silently after the professor, summoning all his self-control to keep from jumping on him. He had to remind himself that he was supposed to act like a horrified student, not an adult frightened by the lesson some teenagers had just received. It was true that the world was quite soft, but going from zero to one hundred so quickly was too much.
"Are you all right, Longbottom?" the professor asked on the way to the office. "I understand that the lesson may have been a little harder for some of you in particular. But you have to learn. You have to know the horrors the world contains."
Godric did not speak, only nodded. He was afraid that if he spoke, he would shout some unpleasant things that came to mind, many of which were words his grandmother would have cleaned his mouth with a scouring pad for. They went inside Moody's office, which was completely full of Dark Detectors and similar devices. Godric knew what they were for and that, because of the way they looked, they had to be of good quality, with a sensitivity far superior to those found in any shop.
"I suppose they'll start whistling for any joke someone makes," Godric finally said.
"Well observed, Longbottom, that's why I had to disable them. Fancy a cup of tea?"
"You had me come with you to offer me tea?"
"It's a formality. I just wanted to know you were okay. I know the class must have been hard for both Mr. Potter and you. It was in case you wanted to talk about it."
"I'm not quite sure I want to talk about it. I have accepted what happened and that it is irreversible. I just... I wasn't prepared to see the curse."
"No one is the first time. Nor the first time they feel it."
"So today's class was not to prepare but to warn that this could happen to anyone at any time..." Godric was nervous and upset, but talking was helping him from doing something more drastic, even if it was with this man, this 'looney' ex-Auror. "I think I'll take that tea from you."
They had a good time chatting and drinking tea. Moody was quite nice, something different from what he had shown in class to everyone. He was gruff but pleasant. He did not bring up the subject of the class again, nor did he mention Godric's parents. He took an interest in him, which surprised Godric a little, but at the same time, made him not know what to think. It could be that the man had trained his parents, but there was something he didn't quite like. In moments like these, he longed to have a little of Salazar's ability to see ulterior motives if there were any. The conversation lasted until dinner was almost over, and at the end of the meeting, before retiring to the common room, the professor gave him a book. It was titled The Aquatic Plants of the Mediterranean. He told Godric it was for him, that he had heard he was good at Herbology. The fact is that Godric found the book too new to be secondhand. It even smelled like an unopened book. That was strange, no doubt.