Eira lingered in the Great Hall longer than most, her gaze flicking to the doors each time they opened. She had been waiting for Fleur to return, but as the evening stretched on and no word came, disappointment settled in. At last, she set aside her half-finished plate and slipped away, her footsteps carrying her back into the cool depths of the Slytherin dungeons.
The familiar dimness greeted her, the stone walls breathing a chill that always seemed to seep into her bones. She told herself she would stay awake a little longer in case Fleur send her a letter of her arrival, but as soon as she lay down, fatigue claimed her. The muffled sounds of the Black Lake outside lulled her quickly into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When morning came, Eira rose early, shaking off the lingering heaviness of the night. After a shower, she applied a touch of perfume and dressed neatly in her Slytherin robes. She joined the other fourth-year girls filtering out of the dormitory, Tracey Davis falling into step beside her with a quiet remark about the day's schedule. Together, they walked through the stone corridors toward Defense Against the Dark Arts.
By now, after nearly two months of lessons, the students were familiar with Professor Moody's classroom. Yet its atmosphere never lost its edge. Dark objects filled the shelves and walls: cages that rattled faintly without cause, mirrors that shimmered with reflections that did not belong, and faint glimmers of enchantment that set the skin prickling. Even before they entered, the entrance to the Classroom carried a tension that seemed to settle into every corner of the corridor.
As the students gathered, Moody's one-eyed gaze swept across the room. His magical eye rotated independently, surveying each face until several students shifted uncomfortably under its scrutiny.
"Today," he said, his gravelly voice cutting through the murmurs, "we continue with our Defense Against the Dark Arts training. Specifically, the Imperius Curse. Every witch and wizard must be able to recognize it, and every witch and wizard must understand its dangers. We are going to practice it in a controlled environment."
A sharp intake of breath came from Hermione. She raised her hand at once. "Professor, you can't! It's—it's illegal to use those spells on students, especially that one!"
Moody's normal eye fixed on her while his magical one whirled furiously in its socket. "I already cleared it with Dumbledore," he barked. "He agrees with me. Now do not interrupt again, Miss Granger. You'll find I'm not here to coddle you."
Hermione's lips pressed into a thin line, but she lowered her hand, cheeks flushed.
Eira, seated among her Slytherin peers, leaned back slightly in her chair, amused at the exchange. In the past couple of weeks, Moody had drilled them endlessly on dark curses, always circling back to the Imperius as if it were a personal obsession. Unlike the Gryffindors around her, whispering nervously and exchanging fearful glances, Eira found herself almost eager. She wanted to see the spell in action, to watch how it bent the will of another, and to test herself against it if given the chance.
Some students looked pale, already shaking their heads in dread, but Moody ignored their reluctance. He slammed his staff once against the floor, the sound echoing through the classroom. "You'll take it, all of you," he growled. "Better to learn here than out there."
Then he moved among the students, producing his wand. "I will demonstrate first on volunteers. You will feel it if you are under the curse. You will obey my commands, but only for the purpose of practice. Any disobedience, any protective resistance, you will not be harmed. Understand?"
The students nodded, some hesitantly, others with unease written plainly on their faces. A low murmur rippled across the room as they shifted in their seats.
Hermione looked troubled, her brows drawn tight. She bit her lip, clearly unsettled, and her hand lingered on her wand as though she wanted to protest again but knew it would be useless.
Near the back, Ron leaned toward Seamus and Dean, his voice low but audible enough for nearby students. "Bet Malfoy won't last two seconds. Can't wait to see him squeal like a baby and say 'My father will know about this.'." The boys snickered, earning a sharp glare from Pansy Parkinson.
Across the room, Harry sat stiffly in his chair. His eyes flicked toward Moody, then down to his desk, then back again. He looked uncomfortable, his fingers drumming restlessly on the wood. Ever since his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire, whispers had followed him everywhere, and now even in class he could feel the eyes of half the room on him. The thought of being put under the Imperius Curse left his stomach in knots, though he tried not to show it.
Moody began with Neville Longbottom. "Stand, Longbottom," he said, pointing his wand at Neville. "Imperio."
A faint flicker of bright blue jet of light shot from Moody's wand, and Neville immediately straightened, eyes glassy. "Now, Longbottom," Moody commanded, "walk to the front of the room and sing a song about how delicious pumpkin pasties are."
Neville's voice rang out, shy but melodic, singing a silly tune about pastries as the other students laughed quietly, trying to suppress it. When Moody snapped his fingers, the curse ended, and Neville blinked, confusion spreading across his face.
Moody moved on to other students, casting the Imperius Curse on each one in turn. The effect was almost immediate: backs straightened, eyes glazed, and wills bent to his command.
"Davis! Up you get." His wand snapped toward Tracey Davis, and she stumbled to her feet, her expression slack.
"Hop like a rabbit," Moody barked.
Tracey immediately began bounding across the classroom, her long hair bouncing wildly with each leap. Her classmates burst into laughter as she smacked into the edge of a desk and kept hopping, completely unbothered. Pansy was practically crying with laughter, and even Hermione covered her mouth despite herself.
"Enough," Moody growled, breaking the spell with a flick of his wand. Tracey blinked, flushed scarlet, and shot glares at anyone still chuckling.
"Brown!" Moody's magical eye swiveled toward Lavender. "Sing something."
Under the curse, Lavender clasped her hands and launched into a shrill, wobbly tune about love and roses, spinning dramatically as though she were on stage. Seamus was doubled over in his seat, and Dean banged the desk with his fist, wheezing with laughter.
Moody let her warble for a few more seconds before canceling the spell. "Terrible voice," he muttered, making the class laugh even harder. Lavender, pink-faced, buried her face in Parvati's shoulder.
"Finnigan!" Moody snarled next. Seamus straightened at once, grinning as if he were ready for anything.
"Stand on that desk—balance on one foot!"
Seamus obeyed instantly, wobbling like a drunken stork. He swayed back and forth with wild arms, earning roars of laughter from both Gryffindors and Slytherins. When he toppled forward and crashed to the floor, even Moody gave a sharp, barking laugh before ending the spell.
"Good effort," he growled, though his eye twitched in amusement.
"Thomas! Let's see you." Dean stood reluctantly, already pale.
"Crow like a rooster," Moody ordered.
Dean opened his mouth and let out the loudest, most convincing crow anyone had ever heard. The entire room howled, banging their desks, and Ron wheezed, "Best rooster I've ever seen!" Dean stumbled back to his chair, hiding his face with his hands.