Chapter 122: New Substitute Teacher Arrives
"Yes, it was a test! However, only a handful of people passed the test, which made me very disappointed!" Professor Moody's magic eye rolled around as he said to the curious students in the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, "Stay vigilant at all times! If you don't want to die under the sticks of the Death Eaters, you must do this!"
The students looked at each other, not daring to breathe.
"If you continue with this attitude! Hogwarts will become a sieve for any bug to fly in! Keep alert!" Moody roared, waving his wand.
He's quite good at pretending, Draco thought with interest, stroking his chin.
Sirius, pretending to be Professor Moody, claimed that he had someone impersonate him in order to test Hogwarts's vigilance against possible Death Eaters sneaking in. This reason would seem lame to any other professor; but when it came to Mad-Eye Moody, it seemed perfectly logical - he had always been crazy and extreme in his behavior, and loved to use students to conduct all kinds of dark magic experiments in class. It didn't seem surprising that he would occasionally test the vigilance of all the students and professors at Hogwarts on a whim.
The foreign school principals who witnessed Hermione petrifying Professor Moody secretly sneered at Hogwarts' crazy teaching methods for several days. However, since there was nothing more exciting to watch, they soon turned their attention back to their students' second project.
Barty Crouch Sr. thought Professor Moody's behavior was somewhat inappropriate.
"Hiring Mad-Eye Moody was a mistake. He has always had a bad reputation in the Ministry of Magic. Dumbledore, you should reconsider." He said to Dumbledore with a stern face, looking a little worried.
Ludo Bagman, on the other hand, found this method of teaching quite amusing—as long as he wasn't the one being petrified, it didn't matter to him.
More complaints came from the Hogwarts students. Sirius was getting even better at portraying a crazy, psychotic former Auror—scaring the students enough that Draco had to retract his earlier misjudgment of Sirius's acting.
"Professor Moody is getting more and more creepy." Pansy complained loudly to Blaise in the common room. "From the way he speaks, it seems like he's going to try Cruciatus Curse on the students in the next class... or sneak into the common room disguised as a student... Can you imagine? Someone dares to sneak into our common room? This is a huge invasion of privacy!"
Draco, standing by, touched his nose guiltily, recalling with dread the feat of Hermione breaking into the Slytherin common room in her second year – disguised as the ever-crazy Pansy Parkinson – and couldn't imagine what would happen to this reckless girl if she was caught.
"I don't like him either," Blaise said grimly. "Pansy, don't act rashly. You can't even punish him for this kind of behavior. He's a professor at Hogwarts. Even if we catch him, we can only respectfully ask him to leave."
"It's ridiculous! I personally hope something happens to him soon." Pansy said gritting her teeth.
What Pansy didn't expect was that the accident came so suddenly.
On a windy and snowy December day, Mad-Eye Moody was rushed to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries because of his improper fighting method with the Blast-Ended Skrewt raised by Professor Hagrid, the Care of Magical Creatures professor. It was said that he would stay there for a while. Dumbledore had to temporarily hire a new substitute teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts - Sirius Black could finally show his true face.
"I expanded on the script Dumbledore gave me - Harry said he was fed up with those blast-end skrewts." Sirius said to Draco proudly, propping up the chair with two legs and shaking it.
"Yes, everyone was relieved to hear that they died together with Professor Moody." Draco smiled contentedly.
"There aren't many left, actually—less than ten." Sirius scratched his chin. "Even if I don't do anything, they'll all die in the process of killing each other after a while."
"No, you're right. We can't wait any longer." Draco said with lingering fear.
He felt a surge of rage when he thought of the six-foot-long skrewts rampaging through the pumpkin patch, and how Hermione had nearly been injured by the fiery tail of a thick-shelled grey skrewt.
"Hagrid looks sad," Hermione whispered to Draco during the next Care of Magical Creatures class.
She looked at Hagrid's lonely back in the pumpkin patch - he was trying to dig a huge grave for the skrewts that had "killed innocently and tragically" himself.
"Please, don't tell me you feel sorry for those Skrewts now," Draco said viciously, rolling his eyes. "I just hate that those Skrewts didn't go see Merlin sooner."
"Of course I don't like them," said Hermione, wrinkling her nose. "By the way, how's that cut on your arm? Those scratches you got trying to block me last class—"
"It couldn't be better," he said lightly, letting the girl lift up his sleeve and examine his left arm.
"There's still a little mark." She frowned and sighed, gently touching the skin with her finger. "The spikes of the skrewt are really sharp. Why hasn't the mark disappeared yet?"
"It'll be fine," Draco said, his voice softening as he felt a certain pleasure from her touch. "It's okay. It's not the most disgusting mark I've ever had."
"Is there anything more disgusting than the marks left by the stings of a skrewt?" she said with a certain innocence in her eyes. "I bet you're trying to comfort me."
Draco gave her a faint smile.
Of course there had been more disgusting marks—the Dark Mark that had once been on his wrist and the "Mudblood" on hers—and he couldn't even tell which disgusted him more.
"Whatever the Mark is, you won't get it," Draco assured her. "You'll be fine. I'll make sure of that."
"Okay." Hermione looked at his gray eyes, which suddenly became serious and a mist flickered in them, and said hesitantly, "Thank you?"
"No need," he whispered. "No need to say thank you."
"But I should say thank you," said Hermione. "Professor McGonagall told me you insisted on putting my name on a certain medal - even though I had done nothing."
"You've done a lot and helped me a lot, but you just don't realize it." Draco said, "If you really want to argue with me about this, I would like to ask you, why did you add my name to your medal? Even threatening to refuse the honor? Do you know what a special contribution award means?"
"Of course I know! Because you deserve it! As early as the Chamber of Secrets, I thought you deserved an award from the school, but you always refused." She said stubbornly. "It's the same with Moody. How could I have discovered it without your map? And you didn't want to tell them about your role in it."
"I—" He didn't know how to answer.
At that time, he just wanted to keep a low profile and survive in the world, and he didn't want anyone to notice his abnormality.
For him at that time, honor was more of a burden than an achievement.
"I know you're always too modest, so I took the initiative. I have no right to comment on other people's honor, but why can't I decide my own honor?" Hermione said proudly, trying to put on a tough expression that "will not accept any rebuttal". "I hope that one day they can know what you have done and what kind of person you are."
She could never forget how Barty Crouch had targeted Draco, judging him through tinted glasses just because he was the son of a Death Eater.
She also couldn't forget the bad things she'd overheard from some of her classmates. Just because he was a Slytherin, everything he did was always cast through a lens of evil.
He was clearly not that kind of person. He was a boy with a hidden kindness, gentleness, and courage, and sometimes he even selflessly helped others.
However, due to his inherent arrogance, he neglected to explain and was misunderstood due to his cold exterior but warm heart.
Hermione couldn't ignore the misunderstandings.
She just couldn't do it, not a thousand times, not ten thousand times.
Draco stared at her, his heart moved by her words; thousands of words were stuck in his throat, unable to be uttered.
"Then, can you imagine the consequences of having your name mentioned alongside that of a Malfoy—a Slytherin—the son of a former Death Eater?" Finally, with a kind of guilty pleasure, he struggled to remind her, "It won't make you more popular, and it might even make you a target of criticism someday."
"Draco, how can you think that? You're not just a Malfoy, a Slytherin, not just someone's child. You are yourself first." Hermione refuted him seriously, "My name is listed alongside Draco, who eliminated darkness. You have light in your heart, and no one can ignore this."
"Is that what you think?" He finally raised the corners of his mouth, as if confirming something important. "Hermione Granger, are you willing to put your name alongside mine?"
"Of course—why not? Why were you so serious just now?" Hermione asked puzzledly, looking at his eyes that suddenly lit up. "What are you so happy about now?"
"It's okay," he smiled softly, and suddenly felt relieved, "It's okay."
By now, Hagrid had dug the grave and was throwing the shattered, flattened, grey remains of the skrewt into the pit. Then, as he filled it in with dirt, he wept bitterly over the loss of his beloved.
Amidst the crying, the students happily taught themselves about the Mothra rat.
A mothrat is a marine rat with sea anemone tentacles on its back. Eating these tentacles wards off bad luck, and the essence they secrete can heal cuts and scrapes. Draco once saw Madam Pomfrey using one on Sirius's wound in the hospital wing.
"That's what Hermione suggested to Hagrid," Harry whispered to him as he came over. "He really doesn't have the energy to prepare 'wonderful new courses'."
"Oh, thank Merlin." Draco deftly filled the vial with the essence of the Murtra Rat, looking at the girl instructing the bewildered Longbottom in the distance. "She should just become the Care of Magical Creatures professor—she always has good advice."
Then he glanced across the pumpkin patch and saw a toothy woman approaching Hagrid, wagging her open finger at him with interest.
Draco recognized Rita Skeeter from her signature jeweled glasses and her blond hair styled in elaborate curls.
This female reporter, known for stirring up trouble in the wizarding world, was wearing a thick magenta robe with a purple suede collar. Her thick, plump fingers, with two-inch-long red nails, clutched a crocodile leather handbag, while her other hand was pulling a shorthand quill from the bag.
Obviously, the defenseless and silly Hagrid is about to fall into her clutches.
Draco sighed gloomily. This woman's ability to spread rumors was simply amazing.
Lately, he'd occasionally read gossip about Harry and Hermione in the Daily Prophet, with Ron and even Krum thrown in, which often made him irritable.
Anyone would feel disgusted if they saw a rose they had carefully cultivated being bitten by an insect.
What's more, this is a bug that uses despicable means and does not speak the truth.
Draco had no intention of getting involved in Hagrid's mess. But Rita Skeeter would definitely use Hagrid to hurt others.
After hesitating for a moment, he walked over.
"Rita Skeeter," he said slowly, standing on the edge of the pumpkin patch. "I want to tell you something."
Rita turned around in surprise. She looked at Draco through her glasses, and perhaps something struck her from the color of his hair, she gave him a smile she thought was charming, and walked towards him happily.
"Young Master Malfoy," she said, her smile growing even brighter as she approached him, extending her thick, plump hand towards him. "Is this the first time we meet?"
Draco didn't touch her hand. He said coldly, "My mother knows you. So, I want to try to negotiate with you first, to keep both of us respectful."
Rita Skeeter's lips pursed. She could hear the hidden meaning behind the other person's words, and could sense that he was not here for good. The female reporter withdrew her hand awkwardly, looking at Draco with a sly look, but pretending to be listening attentively.
"I know you're an Animagus," Draco said bluntly, and was pleased to see the reporter's face turn pale. "If you don't show me a little respect, I don't mind making your little secret public."
"I don't know what you're talking about—" She smirked.
"No, you know exactly what I'm talking about," Draco said coldly, "just as you know perfectly well that it's illegal to have an Animagus that's not registered with the Ministry of Magic."
"What do you want?" Rita's face darkened.
Now, her expression finally looked like that of a normal person.
"Don't write any negative news or love gossip about Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, or Hermione Granger, can you do that?" Draco said meaningfully.
He couldn't risk leaving Hermione alone with Rita Skeeter, so he took Harry and Ron with him.
Merlin, he's such a philanthropist.
"That won't do! Harry Potter is an important part of my report—" Rita was extremely angry.
She was always the one who coerced and bribed others, but today the situation was reversed and she was the one being threatened - it didn't feel good.
"Your mother wouldn't like to see you do this to me," Rita said with a stiff smirk.
"You can try. See if my mother sides with me or you." Draco narrowed his eyes and said, "If I see a beetle appear near Harry and the others one day, I will tell them to crush the beetle without hesitation."
Draco wasn't trying to scare her.
In her previous life, Hermione had cleverly caught Rita Skeeter's pigtails and locked her in a small bottle to reflect on her actions for a while.
This behavior of hers was quite to his liking—a bit of Slytherin's unscrupulousness. He smiled appreciatively.
Rita thought the smile was threatening and her face turned pale.
Draco took his time to admire her expression of panic and anger, and finally said, "As long as it's not Harry and his friends - write about other heroes - that's my bottom line."
Rita Skeeter nodded grimly.
Now, she was too stingy to even give Hagrid a glance - he was no longer of any use to her. The female reporter quickly climbed out of the pumpkin patch, carrying a valuable crocodile leather handbag, glared fiercely at Hagrid, who looked confused, and left along the road in indignation.
"What did you say to her, Malfoy?" Hagrid asked, puzzled. "Why did she leave? She said she wanted to know about my Blast-Ended Skrewt—"
"Oh, she probably has more important things to do," Draco drawled. "Honestly, sir, you shouldn't talk to her too much. Have you ever thought about how you'd answer her if she asked you certain questions?"
"What's the meaning?"
"For example, if she asks where these skrewts came from, how should I answer?" Draco said. "Is it a legal method? Will it withstand being reported? Will it cause trouble for Dumbledore?"
Hagrid's face flushed crimson behind his shaggy black beard. It was obvious that he didn't want to answer the question.
"I knew it." Draco raised his chin in understanding. "Illegal channels, right?"
"Go study those Murtrams, Malfoy. Don't hang around here anymore," Hagrid said gruffly, turning back to the ground and mourning silently, continuing to sob heartbrokenly. "You don't understand what lovely, lively little creatures those Blast-Ended Skrewts are..."
At this moment, the culprit who broke Hagrid's heart was walking through the corridors of Hogwarts Castle.
Sirius Black, who had regained his health and youthful mentality, was a visual shock to the young ladies at Hogwarts.
A character who bears the stigma, endures humiliation, and maintains an innocent character often evokes overwhelming sympathy from women. Coupled with his handsome, lean face, noble demeanor, and the inherent maturity and mystery of a thirty-year-old single man, he simply outshines those immature, acne-stricken young men—he naturally becomes the ideal target of love for some girls.
"Oh, I really don't know, is Sirius better or Cedric better?" Pansy said longingly in the common room, holding her autograph book. "I choose both."
"Oh, I'm glad to hear that," Blaise said sarcastically. "Perhaps I should ask Fleur Delacour for an autograph."
"How dare you?!" Pansy jumped up from the armchair, "What do you mean?"
"What do you mean?" Blaise said coldly, "Praising another man in front of me?"
"I mean the signature!" Pansy shook the notebook in her hand and said, "Just a signature!"
"Yes, I was talking about the signature too!" Blaise rolled his eyes at her and stormed off.
"He's totally unreasonable!" Pansy said to the listless Crabbe over there, "Hasn't he, Crabbe? Where have you been lately? I don't think I've seen you hanging around the common room in ages."
Crabbe nodded at her, his eyes sparkling. "Draco has added to my training schedule – he says my Quidditch is improving."
"Oh, you haven't given up yet?" Pansy smacked her lips and said reluctantly, "That's good. I see you seem to have lost some weight. At least it's good for your health, right?"
Crabbe gave her a goofy grin, "Yeah. I should probably go to training, Pansy. Thanks for the encouragement."
"I don't think she's encouraging—" Draco heard Crabbe's retelling on the court and sighed, "Never mind, just think of it that way."
"Sirius Black is really popular," Crabbe said thoughtfully. "When I came to the stadium, I saw a lot of girls surrounding him and asking for his autograph. But he refused them all."
"Of course, you can't expect the Black family to just give their signature to anyone." Draco was accustomed to this kind of thing. "If someone did something to this signature, he would lose a lot of money."
Gao Er, who was walking over with a short stick in hand, heard this and tried to open his already small eyes wide. "Is this what those girls who wanted autographs meant? Are girls so scary?"
"Oh, I guess few people would think so far. Most girls are just simply infatuated." Draco said, "But you can't ignore the tiny possibility I mentioned - you can never be too cautious."
It's no wonder that girls are so crazy about him, even boys are fascinated by Sirius Black.
One Thursday morning, Draco strolled out of the abandoned women's bathroom on the second floor, searching around until he finally stopped George and Fred in the atrium - they were talking incessantly about Sirius Black to Lee Jordan.
"He's so cool!" Fred said excitedly. "We created a moving swamp in the corridor the other day, and he came over and told me how to make the spell last longer."
"Didn't you get any points deducted?" Lee Jordan asked.
"Not at all. They even wanted to give us a few extra points," George said with a grin, "to encourage us to learn and apply spells flexibly."
"Yeah, and those fiddly fireworks we were experimenting with in the courtyard. He suggested we come up with something unusual, something non-boring, like a dragon—" Fred said dreamily, "A dragon! Why didn't I think of that? Hogwarts finally has a reliable Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. I feel like the first half of my life has been wasted."
"Please, don't be so ungrateful. Your advisor is doing well, isn't he?" Draco said pointedly as he came over, referring to Remus Lupin.
Lee Jordan gave Draco a surprised look.
He didn't know why a Slytherin could come up and talk to the Weasley twins with such confidence, and there was a hint of familiarity in his tone?
What surprised Lee Jordan even more was that the Weasley twins actually looked at each other and responded happily to Draco Malfoy, an external student two years younger than them.
"Of course. He's now focusing on researching defensive magic items, such as defensive cloaks and gloves. He can basically make an entire series of them. These things are surprisingly popular. Even the Ministry of Magic has placed large orders—" Fred grinned. "Can you imagine that many Ministry of Magic employees can't even cast a decent defensive spell?"
This wasn't surprising, Draco thought. Rigid management models and redundant departments and institutions would inevitably lead to an increase in incompetence.
Yes, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was prospering—a truly successful and profitable investment.
"Take this to him for me." Draco pressed a crystal bottle of freshly brewed wolfsbane potion into George's hands. George nodded, and under Lee Jordan's questioning gaze, he put the bottle deep into his robe pocket, a cautious expression on his face.
"Draco, we have to go. We have an appointment for extra tutoring in Defense Against the Dark Arts and need to ask him some details about making a decoy bomb--" Fred said, looking at his watch.
"Not bad, now you are all bowing down at the feet of Sirius' robes." Draco shrugged and ended the conversation praising Sirius Black.
The Black family is indeed a troublemaker.
Even the girls from Beauxbatons would gather from a distance and look at the new substitute Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher with interest.
At the door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Draco raised his head and glanced at Hermione, who was chatting with Susan Bones not far away in the corridor, and suddenly felt a sense of crisis.
The last time they chatted so excitedly was when Lockhart was welcomed by all the girls in the school.
"What do you think of Sirius Black?" Draco asked her with a frown as they sat in class. "Do you still want to fill your timetable with hearts?"
"Why do you remember such trivial things?" Hermione slapped her clean timetable in front of him. "Look, there's nothing! Of course, I admire him - Sirius Black has real talent - he's not a fool."
"That's right." Draco breathed a sigh of relief, looking at her normal schedule and asking casually, "Didn't you prepare an autograph book for yourself? I remember someone once secretly kept Gilderoy Lockhart's autograph."
"Shut up, Draco!" She snatched the schedule from his hand angrily. "I only did this to borrow books from the restricted section! I've never been the kind of girl who only looks at appearances! Besides, Sirius is Harry's godfather. He is an elder worthy of respect to me, you fool!"
"Oh, yeah, what about Cedric Diggory? What about Viktor Krum?" Draco asked sourly. "Isn't there any boy you'd like to get an autograph from? Think they're endearing or something?"
"Why would I want their autographs?" Hermione glared at him, busy flipping through her Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. "What good are their autographs? They can't even get Madam Pince to lend me a book from the Restricted Section!"
"Oh, I can," Draco whispered, suddenly wanting to show off his privilege as the son of a school trustee. "I can get you books from the restricted section."
"Really?" The bright brown eyes suddenly turned and looked at him wholeheartedly, as if worshiping him as some kind of god.
Draco's mouth felt dry for some reason—looking at her lips that instantly smiled—and he heard her ask cheerfully, "Can I get a book like 'The Most Toxic Magic'?"
"Okay." He nodded slightly - seeing her instantly beaming expression - he could no longer frown to show his deep hatred.
"Then - you are still the most likable." Hermione said in a low voice, then turned away her slightly blushing face, trying to concentrate on listening to what Sirius Black said at the podium.
Draco raised his eyebrows and smiled smugly. He could finally relax for a while and listen to Sirius's speech in class.
Sirius Black made all the students breathe a sigh of relief. He did not continue Professor Moody's horrible experiments on the students, but instead seriously planned to teach them how to deal with Dementors, Inferi, Ogres, Zombies and other dark magic creatures in the coming days.
"We will cover the content of monster spells and repellent charms, as well as some defensive spells, such as the Patronus Charm, the Obstacle Charm, the Shield Charm, etc." Sirius said, "If there is anything you are interested in or want to know more about, you can also ask me -"
"Sir, do you know how to deal with a fire dragon?" Neville Longbottom actually raised his hand and asked a question that made everyone laugh.
"Mr. Longbottom, it seems you are a man with lofty ambitions. I have to admit that the methods used by the warriors are very interesting, and we can indeed learn a thing or two from them." Sirius smiled, "I heard that you have already learned the summoning spell used by Harry in Professor Flitwick's class-"
Harry smiled proudly at his godfather.
"As for the Transfiguration spell used by Cedric Diggory, that's Professor McGonagall's area of expertise. I don't think anyone can teach it better than her," Sirius said with a smile. "However, I can teach you how to cast the Eye-Scarring Charm and the Stunning Charm. They're offensive spells, and very useful ones. Okay, students, don't be impatient. Let's learn them one by one."
The students were extremely excited and were talking happily in the audience. They had never expected that Sirius Black, who always looked so proud, could create such a friendly and relaxed atmosphere when teaching.
He is so different from the gloomy and startled Professor Moody!
Moreover, those profound magics were as easy as drinking water in Sirius Black's mouth. This undoubtedly relieved a lot of psychological burden for the anxious students.
"Well, let's practice the Patronus Charm today—the spell is already written on the blackboard," Sirius said happily. "I heard that some of you can already perform it. Can you raise your hands?"
A few hands were raised in the classroom.
Harry, Hermione, Seamus Finnigan... were all Draco's former students.
"Very good, more than I expected. It seems that students of your age already have the ability to perform this spell. I believe that after a period of practice, you will all be able to conjure up a decent Patronus." Sirius said in a positive tone, appearing very easygoing. "Then, please demonstrate it to me. Oh, you don't have to come to the front, just sit on the chair and do it."
Amid the students' admiring voices, Draco stared at the silver-white animals running around the classroom, feeling depressed.
Even after systematic study and long practice, he still struggled to unleash his Patronus's full animal form. This tangled, erratic silver mist form had persisted for over a year, making him increasingly less confident in himself.
Hermione had conjured her otter last year.
He looked at the carefree silver-white otter jumping on the ceiling and sighed with envy.
It looks smart and clever—just as cute as she is.
"Draco, think about it, what makes you happiest?" During practice time, Hermione patiently reminded him.
"I don't know." He said with his eyes downcast, trying hard to squeeze out those happy moments in his heart.
Most of that happiness was related to her.
Her soft hands. Her bright smile. Her beautiful eyes. The scent of her hair. Her silky waist. Her smooth wrists. The dependent way she curled in his arms. The tender touch of his neck as she subconsciously nuzzled.
At the end of the thought, his thoughts would always shift and his cheeks would always become hot.
"Draco, you need to focus! I think it's almost taking shape!" She stared at him for the hundredth time, annoyed. "Ouch, why is it shaking again?"
"Concentrate—it's not that easy," Draco said with difficulty.
In the past, it was such a willful and casual thing for her to stare at him, or for him to stare at her.
But now, he was a little afraid to look at her - especially when he was recalling those happy moments.
Those memories are beautiful, but they don't seem happy enough.
He greedily wanted more—something happier that would emanate from those memories.
Ever since the day he turned into a ferret, he began to have dreams more frequently.
When a girl appears in your dreams on time every night and kisses and cuddles with you strangely all night long, probably no one can be completely calm and at ease with her the next day.
Especially when she looks at you with those bright eyes, a happy smile blooms on her face, and speaks some nice words to you with her soft and gentle lips, or even says "you are the most lovable" with a blushing face - he can no longer tell whether this is a dream or reality.
Whenever this happened, his mind would go blank and he would have trouble concentrating on anything he did.
"Draco, try again, you can do it." The girl was still encouraging him, not knowing what she did to the poor boy every night. "I believe in you, as long as you concentrate on thinking about the happiest things."
So, with his heart throbbing, the young man agreed to her in a daze - secretly looking at her - the silver mist on the tip of the staff seemed to be becoming more and more shaky.