Hogwarts: Starting with full Unforgivable Curses

Chapter 322 Those evil and despicable dark wizards will cruelly use you for experiments!

On Wednesday morning, sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows of Hogwarts' corridors, casting dappled patterns of light onto the stone floor.

Dylan had just come out of the library when he ran into Hermione on the way; both of them were carrying backpacks.

Dylan whispered a levitation spell onto his backpack.

The dark brown leather backpack immediately lifted about ten centimeters off the ground, as if pulled by an invisible thread, steadily following behind him, without even making the heavy magic book inside sway.

“Oh, right,” Hermione suddenly remembered as she walked, her voice lowered, “I ran into a Ravenclaw with a cold this morning. He said Draco is still hanging around in the hospital, occupying a bed and refusing to leave. Madam Pomfrey is getting impatient with him.”

Dylan nodded, not too surprised, but felt that Draco was causing too much trouble.

The two quickly arrived at the classroom door for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

When I opened the door, there were already quite a few students sitting inside.

Almost everyone squeezed to the back of the line. Some whispered to their deskmates, while others glanced at the door every now and then, their eyes filled with obvious tension.

Clearly, they were afraid of Professor Moody's scarred face and eerie, demonic eyes.

Dylan and Hermione, however, went straight to the first row closest to the blackboard, pulled out chairs, and sat down.

They took books out of their schoolbags.

The book was laid out on the table, and the atmosphere in the classroom instantly became even quieter; even the sound of turning pages was so soft that it was almost inaudible.

Not long after, a series of "thump-thump" sounds came from the corridor.

It was the sound of Moody's wooden feet stepping on the floor, mixed with the crisp sound of his cane striking the ground. The sound grew clearer and clearer as it approached.

He pushed open the door and walked into the classroom. The hem of his dark gray robe swept across the threshold, and the metal plates at the bottom of the wooden legs gleamed in the light, revealing the fine lines worn into the surface.

His face was still contorted, crisscrossed with scars of varying depths, and his long, gray hair was somewhat disheveled. When it fell in front of his eyes, he casually shook his head and tossed his hair behind his head.

Moody's gaze slowly swept across the classroom, and when it landed on Dylan, he nodded very quickly, almost imperceptibly.

Dylan nodded slightly in response.

The two had met before because of the Wizengamo incident, so they had some understanding of each other.

"Put all the books away."

Moody's voice was hoarse, carrying the weariness of years of traveling. Leaning on his cane, he walked slowly and laboriously to the podium, sat heavily on the large wooden chair, and tapped the edge of the podium with his cane.

"You don't need these textbooks today."

He turned around, picked up the chalk, and wrote the four words "Alastor Moody" in large letters on the blackboard. Chalk dust fell in a flurry onto the wooden tabletop of the podium.

“I believe some of you have heard of me.” He began his self-introduction, his eyes suddenly sharpening as if they could see right through you. “I am Alastor Moody, a former Auror. After retiring for a few years, I was invited back to Hogwarts by Headmaster Dumbledore to teach this course. Now, let’s take attendance.”

Moody pulled a yellowed roster from the inside pocket of his robe; the edges of the cover were worn.

He shook his head, flicking away the few strands of gray hair that hung in front of his eyes, and began to pronounce the name.

His normal brown eye slowly moved down the words on the list.

But that silver-gray magic eye seemed to have its own consciousness, constantly turning around.

He would stare intently at the students who raised their hands to answer, carefully scanning their faces.

A moment later, he suddenly turned to the corner of the classroom, even glancing under the desk, as if to check if anyone was hiding and not responding.

"Draco Malfoy."

When the name was called, the classroom fell silent for a moment, and no one responded.

Moody frowned, looked up, and his magical eye quickly scanned the entire classroom. His voice rose slightly: "Draco Malfoy, are you there?"

Suddenly, a creaking sound of a chair being dragged came from the back row, and Crabbe jumped up.

Because he moved too quickly, his elbow bumped into Gore next to him, and Gore groaned.

Crabbe clutched a crumpled piece of paper in his hand, his face flushed, and he stammered, "Professor, Malfoy... he's injured. This is a certificate from Madam Pomfrey, and... and permission from the Headmaster of Slytherin."

Moody reached out and almost snatched the note, his silver-gray magical eyes fixed on the words on it, his pupils slightly contracting.

A few seconds later, after confirming that it was not a student's forgery, he suddenly twitched his lips and let out a short, cold laugh.

He held up the note and read it aloud in a voice loud enough for everyone in the class to hear, his tone almost overflowing with sarcasm: "I, Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin House, hereby grant Draco Malfoy permission to remain at the school hospital for recuperation, during which time he may temporarily suspend his classes."

After reading it, he chuckled and tapped the note lightly with the tip of his cane. "Ah, Snape and Malfoy, they really are 'old acquaintances'."

He paused, deliberately drawing out his words as if to make sure everyone could hear him: "Let me think, how did he get hurt again? Oh, right—he was pecked by a chick, tsk tsk, how 'heroic'."

As he spoke, he glanced at the area where the Slytherin students were sitting and added, "Speaking of which, I remember that chicken's nostrils were also two flat, thin slits, which are somewhat similar to some people's."

A suppressed chuckle immediately filled the classroom. The Slytherin students looked rather grim, but no one dared to object.

Moody's aura was so strong that even the boldest students didn't dare to look up when that demonic eye swept over them.

The classroom was so quiet that you could hear the soft crunch of chalk dust falling to the floor, except for a low chuckle from Dylan.

He was the only one in the room who understood Moody's lame joke.

After all, he had seen Voldemort's bizarre appearance and knew that Moody's description of "flat slits in the nostrils" was a veiled criticism of the Malfoy family's submission to Voldemort.

There was a hint of understanding in that smile, and the curve of her lips was so quick it was impossible to catch.

"All right."

Moody paid no attention to the brief silence and his rough voice rang out again.

He pulled a folded parchment from his robe pocket, its edges still wrinkled when unfolded. "I received a letter from Professor Lu Ping, which described the previous teaching of this course."

He glanced at the contents of the paper, then looked up at the students: "It seems you've already learned quite a bit of the basics of dealing with dark magical creatures. You've encountered Boggarts, Red Hats, Hinkpunk, Grindylows, and Kaba, haven't you?"

The students below nodded in agreement, some moving quickly as if afraid that if they were too slow they would be spotted by Moody's magic eye.

Some people were still savoring the sarcastic remark from earlier, nodding absentmindedly while their eyes darted furtively toward the Slytherin seating area.

Moody suddenly slammed his cane against the edge of the podium.

A loud "thump" broke the relaxed atmosphere.

He abruptly changed his tone, his voice filled with dissatisfaction: "But that's far from enough! This content should be the foundation you mastered in your first and second years, but the previous professors were completely incompetent. They not only slowed down my and Lu Ping's teaching pace, but also left you without any ability to protect yourselves. You're practically defenseless!"

He emphasized the words "utterly powerless," his intonation carrying a penetrating force that seemed to reach Draco's ears through the walls of the school hospital.

After he finished speaking, his silver-gray demonic eye deliberately turned towards the doorway, as if to confirm whether his voice could carry far.

"You've all heard about what happened at the Quidditch World Cup, haven't you?" Moody's voice turned serious, "Those Death Eaters are starting to get restless, which means you could be in danger at any moment!"

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the students who looked indifferent, his tone growing colder, "Don't think this is far removed from you. There might be a dark wizard's spies hiding right among us."

As soon as he finished speaking, his demonic eye suddenly began to spin rapidly, its silver-gray pupils sweeping across every corner of the classroom.

From Dylan and Hermione in the first row to Goyle hunching over in the last row, they didn't even spare under the desks or by the windowsills.

The students all lowered their heads, some subconsciously moving closer to their deskmates. No one dared to meet the gaze of that demonic eye until Moody's gaze finally landed on Dylan, who remained calm throughout, before pausing slightly.

"You have no idea how ruthless dark wizards are!" Moody suddenly raised his voice, almost shouting, his voice making the podium tremble slightly. "They can pretend to be your friend, smiling and talking to you, and then turn around and stab you in the back."

"They lurk in the shadows, waiting for you to fall asleep and lower your guard. With just one spell, they can send you to meet Merlin!"

The classroom fell completely silent; even breathing became cautious.

Almost all the students unconsciously lowered their heads, their fingers tightly gripping the hem of their clothes or textbooks, some even resting their chins on the table, as if they wanted to hide themselves.

Seeing this, Moody's facial scars seemed to soften a little. He nodded slightly and continued:
"The things you learned before are fine for dealing with minor troubles, but if you really encounter a dark wizard, you won't even have a chance to escape."

His voice was even lower, with a sinister quality, as if it came from the depths of the earth, "You're only teenagers, you don't want to be dragged into a dark and sunless laboratory, do you?"

"Being skinned alive and having your tendons pulled out is the least of your worries. The dark wizard will keep you alive and force-feed all sorts of strange, colorful potions into your young body."

"We'll drain all your blood today, then give you blood-boosting supplements tomorrow, and then drain it again the day after, so you'll live through all the pain and never truly die."

As Moody spoke, the scars on his face appeared even more grotesque due to his distorted expression, and the coldness in his eyes almost overflowed.

Just imagining the scene made some students in the classroom turn pale, while others secretly swallowed. Hermione gripped her wand tightly and even held her breath, afraid that her movements would attract more "attention" from Moody.

Good heavens, are there really people this perverted?

Upon hearing this, Dylan's lips twitched.

This is probably a curse directed at those evil dark wizards, it has nothing to do with him.

He is a very kind wizard.

"What you've learned so far is still a long way off—far too far off!"

Moody suddenly raised his voice, which echoed in the quiet classroom with an undeniable force, "But thankfully, I have a whole year to teach you how to deal with dark magic and how to confront those evil wizards who use it!"

His wooden feet slammed heavily on the ground with a "thud," as if emphasizing his determination.

The students, who had previously lowered their heads in fear after his description of the evil deeds of the dark wizard, now raised their heads, their eyes filled with renewed hope.

Some people stared intently at Moody with bright, sparkling eyes.

Some people unconsciously sat up straight and clenched their fists.

Some students whispered to their classmates, their voices filled with anticipation.

All eyes were on Moody, their longing palpable: "Professor, we want to learn from you!"

Seeing the students' reactions, Moody's lips curled into a slight smile, revealing a hint of satisfaction. Leaning on his cane, he slowly walked away from the podium and began to patrol the aisle in front of the classroom.

With each step the wooden foot took, it left a slight mark on the floor, and the sound of the cane tapping the ground echoed in rhythm.

His gaze swept across every row of seats, his silver-gray demonic eye constantly darting around, as if trying to ascertain each student's attitude.

Finally, Moody stopped in front of Dylan's seat in the first row.

He leaned slightly forward, his right hand gripping his wand, the tip of which gently tapped on the desk in front of Dylan, making a soft "tap" sound.

The classroom fell silent instantly, and everyone's eyes shifted from Moody to Dylan, filled with doubt and curiosity.

"Perhaps many of you do not know that among you there is a wizard with a very high level of magic who has fought against dark wizards many times."

Moody's voice softened slightly, but it still carried clearly to everyone's ears, "I think he can do me a favor and let you see for yourselves what a real battle between wizards looks like!"

After he finished speaking, he turned his gaze to Dylan, his normal eye filled with a hint of expectation, while his demonic eye stared intently at Dylan, as if waiting for his response.

The students in the classroom were in an uproar, with whispers rising and falling.

Some people looked at Dylan in surprise, never expecting that he, who usually seemed so calm, actually had experience fighting against dark wizards.

Some were even more excited, looking forward to seeing real magical battle scenes.

"Quiet!"

Moody tapped the ground heavily with his cane, and the classroom immediately fell silent. "Everyone, come with me. We're going to the open space behind the castle. It's spacious enough that no one else will get hurt."

He was the first to walk out of the classroom, his wooden feet stepping onto the stone slabs of the corridor.

The "thump-thump" sound echoed in the corridor.

The students picked up their backpacks and wands and followed behind.

Some people walked quickly, eager to see the battle.

Some people slowed down and whispered about the spells they might see later.

There are many stories about Dylan circulating in the academy.

However, because Dylan is a very low-key and mysterious person, he doesn't usually receive much attention.

Dylan followed in the middle of the group.

The open space behind the castle was covered with a soft grass, with several tall oak trees planted along the edge, their leaves swaying gently in the breeze.

Moody stood in the center of the open space and gestured for the students to form a circle around him, leaving enough space in the middle.

"Stand back a bit, keep a safe distance!"

He loudly warned, "We'll be using a lot of practical spells during the battle later, so don't get accidentally injured."

The students immediately stepped back a few paces, forming a loose circle, their eyes fixed on Moody and Dylan in the center of the open space.

Hermione stood at the edge of the circle, her hands clenched together, her worry even more evident in her eyes.

She knew Dylan was powerful, but he was a retired Auror!

Harry opened his eyes wide and even held his breath, afraid of missing any detail.

"Are you ready, Dylan?"

Moody turned around, raised his wand in his right hand with the tip pointing to the ground, his tone showing no disdain.

"We won't use any overly dangerous spells. We'll mainly demonstrate reaction speed and spell combos in actual combat, understand?"

Dylan nodded, walked to a spot about five meters away from Moody, stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, raised his wand, and pointed the tip at Moody: "I'm ready, Professor."

“Very good!” Moody shouted.

As soon as he finished speaking, his wand shot out a spell.

"Expelliarmus!" The spell flew at lightning speed, accompanied by a slight whooshing sound, straight toward Dylan's wand.

Dylan was prepared. He quickly moved to the left, waving his wand and chanting at the ground, "Obstacles!"

A transparent magical barrier instantly appeared in front of him. The spell struck the barrier with a soft "bang" before dissipating.

"Good reaction!" A hint of approval flashed in Moody's eyes, and then he cast another spell.

"Collapse!"

This time, the spell didn't attack in a straight line, but rose slightly upwards, as if trying to bypass the barrier.

Dylan remained calm. He quickly adjusted his posture and waved his wand upwards: "Stop Curse!"

A white arc of light flew out from the tip of the staff and collided with the spell. The two spells canceled each other out in the air and turned into specks of light.

A murmur of surprise rippled through the surrounding students.

Ron's mouth dropped open, and he whispered to Harry, "My God, Dylan caught Professor Moody's spell so easily!"

Harry nodded, his eyes fixed on the center of the clearing, barely daring to blink.

Moody didn't stop; he moved quickly, his wooden feet leaving shallow footprints on the grass.

"A decent defense, but in actual combat, you can't just defend and not attack!"

As he spoke, he fired three spells of different colors in succession.

The three spells, arranged in a fan shape, attacked Dylan simultaneously.

Only defend and not attack?

Haha~

Dylan smiled slightly, his wand tracing a smooth arc in his hand: "Immediately imprison!"

A silver rope flew out from the tip of the staff, first wrapping around the leftmost Exorcist weapon and pulling it toward the ground.

Then he chanted, "Flames roar!"

An orange flame shot out from the tip of the staff, stopping the unconscious man from falling to the ground.

Finally, facing the yellow spell that petrified everything, he quickly recited the armor protection spell.

An invisible magical armor instantly enveloped his entire body, and the final incantation struck the armor and vanished in an instant.

"Beautiful!" Moody couldn't help but exclaim, stopping his attack and putting away his wand. "This is the key to real combat: not only must you be able to defend, but you must also learn to find opportunities to counterattack while defending, and you must quickly judge the attributes of different spells and choose the most appropriate way to deal with them."

He turned to the students around him and raised his voice: "You all saw it just now. When faced with multiple spells, Dylan didn't panic. Instead, he quickly analyzed and responded precisely. This is what you're going to learn next—real combat isn't about memorizing spells, but about learning to make the right judgments in rapidly changing situations!"

The students nodded in agreement, their eyes filled with more admiration as they looked at Dylan.

Dylan put away his wand and walked over to Moody, looking relaxed.

Although the battle just now only used basic spells, it didn't take any mental effort at all.

Moody patted Dylan on the shoulder, his tone approving: "You did very well, even better than I expected."

"Next, we'll use the battle we just fought as an example to break down the key steps of each process..."

Moody gestured for the students to gather closer, then walked to where Dylan had been standing and drew a shallow mark on the ground with his cane: “Let’s start with the first step, judging by the spell. When I fired the first Exorcist weapon, the spell had a red glow and its trajectory was straight and fast. That’s its most obvious characteristic.”

“You must remember that different attack spells have different light effects, speeds, and even the sound of air being cut. For example, the one that knocks you down will have a slight arc when flying, and the one that petrifies you will be relatively slow but has strong penetrating power.”

“Dylan’s first step was to quickly identify the obstacles, which is why he was able to immediately choose to defend against them. This is the foundation of real combat and is more important than memorizing a hundred spells.”

As he spoke, he walked back to his previous position and tapped the ground with the tip of his cane: "The second step is the choice of defensive strategy, which cannot be generalized."

"When facing a single, straight-line spell, the most direct approach is to build a barrier with multiple obstacles, like Dylan did. However, when I deliberately arched upwards and collapsed to the ground, the barrier became ineffective. That's when magic like 'Spell Stop', which can directly negate the spell, comes in handy."

"Especially when facing multiple spells with different attributes, you need to prioritize them. Of the three spells just now, except for your weapon which threatens your wand, all of them will petrify your body, and knocking you unconscious is the next priority. So Dylan first used the mercury rope to entangle the weapon, then used the flame to block the knocking, and finally used the armor to protect himself. This order is crucial; if you mess up one step, you may be hit."

Moody's gaze swept over the students, noticing someone quickly scribbling in their notebook, and he continued, "The final step, and the one most easily overlooked."

"Control the rhythm!"

"In real combat, it's not about who can chant the spell the fastest, but about who can seize the initiative."

“When I attacked continuously just now, I deliberately shortened the interval between my spells, but Dylan was not led astray by me. Every time he defended, he would slightly adjust his stance to give himself time to make a judgment.”

"That's about controlling the pace! If you get flustered by your opponent's speed, even if you remember a lot of spells, you'll still be clumsy and disorganized."

He paused, looked at Dylan, then turned to the students: "You can ask Dylan if he was quickly thinking about what the next move might be after each defensive maneuver. That's real-world thinking!"

"While defending, you must anticipate the next move, instead of passively waiting for the spell to come."

"Next, you two will work in pairs and take turns simulating the scenario we just witnessed. Start by practicing recognizing the incantation. I'll be watching, so feel free to ask me any questions!"

Dylan paused slightly when he heard what Moody said.

After he defended himself, did he think about what the next spell would be?
Well.

For him, using magic is now as easy as breathing.

Even the spells don't need special explanation; you can cast them without any incantation.

Even casting spells without a staff.

(End of this chapter)