Year Four began the same way as all the others — with new faces and the foolish hope that this time, things would be different. Better.
The corridors of Hogwarts buzzed with noise and excitement. First-years ran around clutching their timetables, completely lost, while the older students whispered about new teachers, new faces, and Quidditch teams.
I pushed through the crowd, gripping my bag tightly. No way was I going to be late for the very first class of fourth year — Defence Against the Dark Arts.
In my head, I ran through last year's spells, muttering formulas under my breath. New teacher, new start — and I couldn't afford to screw up the first day.
When I entered the classroom, most seats were already taken. Red and green uniforms mixed like blood and venom, separated only by the invisible line between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Lydia sat at the front, while the self-proclaimed Slytherin princes smirked in the back. Personally, I thought Slytherin idiots suited them much better.
Only one seat was left — of course, right between them. "Why didn't I wake up earlier..." I sighed, scanning the room. Oh, there was one more seat — next to Pansy. Bloody perfect.
I dragged myself to the desk behind Lorenzo and Theo. At least those two were tolerable. "Elyse! Where have you been?" Hermione called out the second she saw me. "We thought you were already here after breakfast!" "Sorry," I exhaled. "I had to grab some materials from Professor McGonagall." Hermione and Lydia nodded — and that's when I heard it. That laugh. Smug and unmistakable.
"Look, the entire Gryffindor delegation," Malfoy drawled. "Tell us, Potter, how did you manage to conjure the Dark Mark at the World Cup?" Riddle added.
I prayed he wouldn't notice me. Ever since I beat him in a duel back in second year, he'd had it out for me. And being friends with Harry didn't help.
Lydia rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Riddle? Didn't your father teach you how to insult people properly? Oh wait, I forgot—"
Before the situation could escalate, Professor Moody limped into the classroom. The new Defence teacher. I hated to admit it, but I missed Lupin. And though I knew it wasn't fair to judge Moody within five seconds, something about the man was... unsettling.
He reached the blackboard and scanned the room with his mismatched eyes — one normal, the other spinning wildly on its own. His gaze fixed on Harry. "I'm Professor Moody," he rasped. "I'll be teaching you Defence Against the Dark Arts. The Ministry believes you're too young to learn about the Unforgivable Curses. I disagree. So — who can name them?"
Hermione's hand shot up, but Moody ignored her and looked straight at me. "Miss Black, would you start us off?" My spine stiffened. That look of his was piercing, as if he could read thoughts. "Imperio, sir." "And what does it do?" "It controls the victim's will." "Correct."
He pulled a spider from his pocket, muttered an incantation, and the creature floated into the air, twitching as Moody toyed with it. It landed on Ron's head, then on Draco's, and finally back onto the desk. "Longbottom, another one?" Neville went pale. "Crucio, sir. It... causes pain." "Excellent." Moody raised his wand. "Crucio!"
The spider convulsed, its legs curling in agony. Neville flinched. Everyone knew why. "Stop it!" Hermione shouted. "Can't you see it's upsetting him?" Moody grunted but lowered his wand. "And the last one?" he turned to Hermione. "The Killing Curse... Avada Kedavra." Moody nodded. "Correct. And only one person is known to have survived it — and he's sitting right here. Harry Potter."
Every head turned toward Harry. Moody set the spider down and killed it with a single flick of his wand. The silence that followed was heavier than a thunderclap.
"For next month," he announced, "I want a written project. Describe all three Unforgivable Curses and include the story of someone who experienced one. You'll work in pairs , according to where you're sitting."
I raised my hand. "Professor, I'm sorry, but I don't have a partner." Merlin, please, not Pansy. Before Moody could answer, Riddle's mocking voice rose from the back. "So, Potter, maybe we can interview you? Or Longbottom? What do you say, Draco?"
Moody's gaze froze him mid-laugh. "Excellent, Mr. Riddle. You've just volunteered to partner with Miss Black."
My stomach dropped. He had to be joking. "And Miss Parkinson?" Draco blurted. "Perfect. She'll be your partner, Mr. Malfoy."
I buried my face in my hands. This couldn't be real. The chair beside me scraped. "Well, good day to you too, Black," Riddle said smoothly. "If it were good, you wouldn't be sitting next to me," I muttered.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of introductions and dull lectures. And me? I was just profoundly grateful we didn't share another class with the Slytherins. One was more than enough — especially with him beside me.
That evening, I curled up by the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. I had a perfect plan: hot chocolate, a book, and peace. The air smelled of cinnamon candles, and for once, everything was quiet. Most people were still at dinner or watching students throw their names into the Goblet of Fire.
But my peaceful night was interrupted by a knock on the door. I sighed. Probably lost first-years again. Ginny got up and opened the door — only to slam it shut immediately. "What was that?" I asked. She didn't have time to answer, because a voice shouted from the other side: "Weasley, I know you can hear me! I need to talk to Black — about the project!"
Riddle. Bloody hell.
I froze. The last thing I wanted was to talk to him. For a moment, I actually considered sneaking upstairs and pretending I wasn't there. But the knocking didn't stop — it got louder.
Finally, I'd had enough. I swung the portrait open, irritation written all over my face. "What do you want?" I snapped, crossing my arms. "Ah, Black," he said with a smirk. "Just the person I was looking for. So — the project. Oh, and nice pajamas."
I glanced down and realized I was wearing sweatpants and a pink hoodie with a cartoon rabbit. "It's not pajamas," I said under my breath. "Don't worry," I added a bit louder, "I'll do most of the work. You just need to find the witnesses. Unless you're too busy — that's fine too."
"I actually want to work on it," he said with a smirk. I forced a smile that felt more like a grimace. "Really, that's new."
"Good. Tomorrow, three o'clock. Library. Don't be late — I hate late people." He didn't stop walking as he spoke, already heading away, ignoring me completely.
As if you weren't one yourself, I thought bitterly.
"Oh, and by the way, you should wear those pajamas to class. Might finally get someone's attention," he called over his shoulder.
"That's not—" I muttered, but he was already gone. I shut the portrait, slammed it with a little flourish, and for my own satisfaction, flipped him off.
"Idiot," I muttered under my breath and turned around — only to find Ginny watching me with a grin. "So... you're working with M—" "Shut up," I cut her off, grabbing my cocoa and book before heading upstairs. As I reached my room, I muttered under my breath, "If I survive this project without murdering him, I'm definitely getting an Order of Merlin."