Ron sat down with his face burning red, burying his head deep in his arms. Moody stopped the other young wizards who were about to stand up and declared:
"I hope you can distinguish between Charms, Curses, Jinxes, and Hexes."
"Before answering, use your brains so you don't appear utterly foolish!"
As he finished, Ron buried his head even lower while the others stared blankly at Moody, completely failing to grasp his meaning.
"Bloody hell..."
Moody muttered under his breath, "Do you really know nothing? Didn't your previous professors teach you this?"
Apart from Hermione and Wayne, everyone else instinctively shook their heads.
In their understanding, spells were just spells—at most, divided into illegal Dark Magic and legal White Magic.
"Damn it." Moody stood up irritably. "I can't fathom what you've been learning these years. It's only been decades, yet Hogwarts has declined this much."
"No wonder the new Aurors are getting worse with each batch."
"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, the lesson plan has changed. Before learning these spells, you must properly understand spell classifications to determine whether you're heading straight for Azkaban."
The classroom fell silent as everyone gazed at Moody with eager curiosity—this was entirely new territory for them.
Under their collective anticipation, Moody finally spoke.
"Aside from Transfiguration and some obscure special categories, all spells are fundamentally classified into four types."
"First are Charms. These spells don't alter an object's inherent nature—like the Levitation Spell, Summoning Charm, Fire-Making Spell, or Freezing Spell. They're ordinary charms."
Seamus, who had just returned from recovery, shuddered violently upon hearing "Summoning Charm."
"Next are Jinxes. These are the lowest level of harmful spells—like the Levitation Spell, Trip Jinx, or Dancing Feet Spell. They don't cause serious harm."
"Then come Hexes." Here, Moody glanced at Ron, who had lifted his head to listen attentively.
"What Weasley mentioned earlier—the Slug-vomiting Hex—falls under this category. These spells have more severe effects than Jinxes but are still manageable. They usually have counter-curses, and most can be negated with the universal General Counter-Spell."
"Now, Mr Weasley, do you understand? If using a mere Hex warranted Azkaban, the place would've burst at the seams long ago."
Ron hung his head in shame.
Finally, Moody took a deep breath, his expression turning grave. "Last... are Curses."
"Let me clarify—not all Curses are Dark Magic. The Body-Bind Curse and Stunning Spell are Curses, but all Dark Magic is categorised as Curses. I hope you grasp this distinction."
A sea of young heads nodded vigorously.
Moody took a swig from his flask after speaking so much in one breath.
"Now, name all the Dark Magic spells you know."
Soon, someone stood up and mentioned the Imperius Curse.
"Correct, the last of the three Unforgivable Curses. But the penalty for using this spell is lighter—not because it's less harmful, but because it's too difficult to prove."
"Determining whether someone is under the Imperius Curse is extremely challenging. Back in the day, many of the Dark Lord's followers claimed they'd been Imperiused to escape trial."
"Malfoy did," Ron muttered. "His father donated a huge pile of gold to the Ministry, and that was the end of it."
Harry nodded subtly before suddenly standing. "Professor, I also know the Corrosion Curse."
Moody inclined his head. "A common Dark Magic spell. Using it alone won't land you in Azkaban, but causing injury carries a sentence ranging from three months to five years, depending on severity."
Harry sat back down, disappointed. He'd hoped this spell might send Malfoy away for good—clearly that wasn't happening.
"Engorgio Skull Curse!" Susan Bones mustered her courage to name a spell.
"An extremely vicious curse. Using it on a person, even without killing them, warrants at least five years in prison."
Moody sighed faintly, his gaze sweeping across the classroom.
Another child of old comrades.
The Bones family truly gave their all.
Apart from the living fossil, the only surviving member of Susan Bones' parents' generation was Amelia Bones—the rest had been brutally murdered by Voldemort's followers.
Susan's parents had died by that very curse. Compared to the clean efficiency of the Killing Curse, this spell was far more torturous.
Neville's parents, though alive, had been driven mad by torture. And Ron...
His mother, Molly, came from the Prewett family, also one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, where two members had been killed by Death Eaters...
Moody's eyes dimmed momentarily, but having witnessed too much life and death, he quickly regained composure.
"Gut-Extracting Curse."
"Three years."
"Poison Mist Curse."
"Six months."
"Plague Curse."
"Depends on death toll—maximum sentence has no upper limit."
"Bone-Extracting Curse."
"One year."
"Fiendfyre."
Suddenly, the classroom fell silent. Moody's magical eye swivelled towards the student who'd named the curse.
"Mr. Sherlock, you've mentioned an extremely dangerous spell."
Norman shrank in his seat. "I don't really know much about it—just heard people say it's terrifying, similar to the fire spell Wayne used during the World Cup."
He hastily added, "Wayne, I'm not saying you used Fiendfyre! Just that it looked similar."
"I know," Wayne chuckled. "With so many Aurors around, I wouldn't dare use it anyway."
Hannah gasped. "You actually know how to cast it?"
"Absolutely not, never have, don't spread rumours."
Wayne delivered the triple denial instantly. He was a good boy—why would he use Dark Magic?
Moody snorted internally.
As if anyone would believe that.
Then he noticed the students' trusting expressions and nearly facepalmed.
Bloody hell!
Did they really trust Wayne that much?
"Fiendfyre is indeed extremely dangerous—not just to your enemies, but to yourself as well."
"Because this spell is extremely difficult to control, even trained Aurors struggle with it. You can only watch helplessly as the flames spread, consuming both yourself and your enemies."
"So unless you're prepared to perish alongside your foe, don't even think about casting this spell."
Parvati Patil asked curiously, "Then what kind of spell did Wayne use? The one on the newspaper cover."
As she spoke, she actually pulled out that day's copy of the Daily Prophet.
Wayne's eyelid twitched violently. These people were insane – who carried around old newspapers for this long?
He wasn't the only one with this thought. Many were looking at Parvati strangely, and she seemed to realise her behaviour was somewhat... obsessive. She explained sheepishly, "I thought the photo looked really cool, so I kept it."
Hermione secretly pinched the boy's arm, her cheeks puffing out.
Wayne felt wronged, too – how was this his fault?
"That spell..." Moody pondered. "It's an ancient magic which was the prototype of Fiendfyre. It doesn't belong to the current spell classification system. And judging by the newspaper's description, it also incorporated magical metamorphosis techniques."
"To be precise, it's a combined spell applying theories from both Charms and Transfiguration."
...
The double-period lesson passed unnoticed until the bell rang. Moody assigned this week's homework – each student was to write a two-foot-long essay analysing how they might counter the Dark Magic discussed today using spells they currently knew.
The young wizards reluctantly filed out of the classroom.
Though the lesson had consisted entirely of discussion without Moody teaching any new spells, nobody found it boring.
Just as the sixth-years had said, Moody truly knew his stuff.
Moreover, he carried an aura none of the previous Defence Against the Dark Arts professors had possessed.
Rather than a class introducing Dark Magic, it felt more like legal education. Moody even shared techniques for beating opponents severely without landing oneself in Azkaban.
That was truly criminal.
It also helped the students understand the horrific consequences of cruel Dark Magic.
"I bet Malfoy and his lot are more interested in Dark Magic," Ron said to Harry as they left the classroom. "He's mentioned more than once how he nearly went to Durmstrang."
"What's wrong with Durmstrang?" Harry asked, puzzled.
"Durmstrang teaches Dark Magic," Ron whispered.
Harry was shocked: "But using Dark Magic is illegal, isn't it? Doesn't that apply at Durmstrang?"
"Just teaching it isn't illegal. Like my dad – I'm sure he knows a few Dark spells himself."
Ron seemed unfazed. "Those Slytherins probably know even more, they just don't dare use them."
"I wonder if the Durmstrang students will be really strong in this upcoming Holy Grail War," Harry mused, feeling uneasy about the approaching competition.
Though he couldn't participate, he still hoped Hogwarts would win.
...
In the classroom, Wayne stayed behind and turned to Moody beside him:
"How did he seem?"
"Painfully naive," Moody said sharply about Harry. "Dumbledore told me you've been tutoring him for two years. How's he still at this level?"
Wayne shrugged. "Harry's a practical fighter. As for theory... You might as well assume he has none."
This was standard protagonist configuration – extraordinary combat instincts paired with below-average knowledge, leaving room for supporting characters to shine.
Unfortunately, Hermione, who'd been the brains of the operation, had been poached by Wayne, leaving Harry as clueless as ever about basic concepts.
"Can someone like that really win the Holy Grail War?" Moody worried about failing Dumbledore's task.
"That depends on how much effort you're willing to put in." Wayne smiled, then added, "Oh, don't make your help too obvious, though. It'll backfire."
Moody frowned. "Why?"
"He's been screwed over by three Defence Against the Dark Arts professors already. Now 'Barty Jr.' is about to trick him a fourth time. Even a pig would develop some wariness by now."
With that, Wayne left Moody standing there deep in thought.
After a long pause, the old Auror sighed and shook his head.
"That poor kid..."
...
After lunch, Hermione went to Arithmancy while Cho happened to have no classes, so Wayne took her to upgrade the Fountain of Beauty.
"Recently I designed some new magical runes that can purify the water further and even shrink pores," Wayne explained as he worked inside the fountain with an engraving tool and metallic solution, earning admiring looks from Cho.
Truthfully, these runes weren't that significant. The real magic came from the Tidecaller's legacy.
Water could create tidal waves, but more importantly, it was the source of life. After enhancement, prolonged use of the fountain's waters could slow ageing – Wayne's little gift to the student body.
He hadn't added features like acne treatment or blackhead removal, though.
First, it was too troublesome. Second, he still needed those to turn a profit.
After hearing his idea, Cho also agreed, "I think it's a brilliant idea. Marietta and Freya discuss Beautification Potions and skincare every day, spending most of their pocket money on them."
At sixteen, it was the age of vanity, obsessed with slathering all sorts of dubious concoctions on their faces.
Rather than letting classmates be scammed by outsiders, it would be better if they were deceived by him instead.
Wait—no. The potions he invented were absolutely effective, just not long-lasting. Requiring continuous purchases wasn't exactly a drawback.
And weight-loss potions—those needed to be added to the lineup, too.
Given dietary habits, the obesity rate at school was hardly low.
"Are these potions difficult to brew?" Cho's eyes sparkled. "If they're not too hard, I could help."
"Not difficult at all. It's mainly about the formula."
With Morgana's mastery of potioneering, inventing such simple potions was child's play for him.
Wayne outright handed this aspect of the work to Cho, letting her take full charge. Who knew—she might even become the cosmetics magnate of the entire wizarding world someday.
...
After a busy afternoon, the transformation of the Fountain of Beauty's waters was finally complete. Wayne scooped a handful of the clear water and drank it—it even tasted slightly sweet.
The water was utterly pure, perfectly safe to drink directly.
Having found something that piqued her interest, Cho took the formula Wayne provided and immediately retreated into the suitcase world to experiment, skipping dinner entirely.
Watching Snape leave, Wayne hastily finished the stewed beef on his plate and hurried after him.
Once inside the office, Wayne asked, "Professor, how's your consideration of the bloodline fusion going?"
Snape grew wary, unsure why Wayne was so invested, but replied nonetheless, "I've been consulting ancient texts recently and found some relevant material. I have a few ideas, but I'm still deciding which magical creature to fuse with."
"How about a dragon?" Wayne suggested the most well-known option.
"A dragon..." Snape hesitated slightly. "Dragon blood is too volatile. I wouldn't survive it."
"I plan to take it step by step, gradually increasing my tolerance."
Wayne pulled out a transparent glass vial and shook it. "Thestral blood."
Snape's eyes lit up.
Thestrals were an excellent choice—docile Dark creatures, reasonably high-tier, and offering significant boosts to Dark Magic.
Still, Snape remained guarded. "Lawrence, why are you so invested in my bloodline fusion?"
"Professor, you're being too formal." The boy offered a bashful smile. "I just wanted to ask—how's your stock of Resurrection Draught? Any left?"
"And Thestral blood... this stuff is even harder to get than dragon blood..."
Snape: "..."
Though the boy was smiling, Snape could almost see a butcher's blade in Wayne's grip, waiting for him to stretch his neck out for the slaughter...