Harry Potter with Technology System

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"Ancient magic," Moody repeated slowly. He straightened, leaning more heavily on his staff. His real eye narrowed slightly, while his magical one flicked briefly toward the front row where Hermione and Neville sat. "You're referring to sacrificial protection, of course. A rare and... unpredictable form of magic."

Harry shrugged. "Unpredictable, maybe. But effective. Voldemort didn't expect it, and we both know how well that turned out for him. Also, as you always say, 'CONSTANT VIGILANCE!' While fighting those inbred Death Eaters, one should always be vigilant that a Killing Curse might fly their way, so they can block it with a timely Transfiguration."

There was a ripple of awkward laughter among a few of the Slytherins. Hermione looked as though she wanted to correct Harry on his phrasing, but thought better of it. Moody's magical eye spun erratically before settling on Harry again. The rest of the class sat in tense silence, waiting for the professor's response.

Nigel laughed in Harry's mind, "Are you trying to anger the poor professor to death, Harry? First calling his lord wretched, now calling him inbred to his face."

Harry gave no outward reaction, though he couldn't help the faint smirk tugging at his lips. He didn't bother replying to Nigel. Moody's jaw tightened slightly, though he quickly masked it with a gruff grunt.

"Right," Moody rasped, slamming the butt of his staff onto the floor again for emphasis. "Theoretical counters won't save you in a real fight, Potter. You'll be dead before you can transfigure a pebble. Don't let clever words make you complacent."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Harry answered with a faint smirk, leaning back in his chair. He could see a flicker of irritation in Moody's real eye, but the man didn't push further. The classroom remained tensely quiet, every student too on edge to even shift in their seats.

Moody grunted once more and continued pacing. "Now, remember this—you might never see these curses in action unless you're extremely unlucky, but if you do, you better be prepared." He jabbed a finger in the air, "You let your guard down, you're done. Constant vigilance is the only thing keeping you alive out there."

Harry rolled his eyes subtly, earning an approving chuckle from Blaise, who whispered, "Reckon he shouts that in his sleep?"

"Enough chatter back there," Moody barked, his magical eye snapping toward them. "Avada Kedavra's a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it—you could all get your wands out now, point them at me, and say the words, and I doubt I would get so much as a nosebleed. But that doesn't matter. I'm not here to teach you how to do it." Moody's gravelly voice echoed across the room as he paced slowly. 

"Now, if there's no countercurse, why am I showing you?" he continued, his tone sharp. "Because you've got to know. You've got to appreciate what the worst is. You don't want to find yourself in a situation where you're facing it unprepared. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he barked suddenly, causing several students to flinch again.

Moody ignored the commotion and went on, his voice hard and unrelenting. "Now... those three curses—Avada Kedavra, Imperius, and Cruciatus—are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That's what you're up against. That's what I've got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practice constant, never-ceasing vigilance. Get out your quills… copy this down."

Chairs scraped as students hastily pulled out their quills and parchment. The room filled with the sound of frantic scribbling as Moody began to dictate notes on each of the Unforgivable Curses.

Harry's gaze flicked briefly toward Neville, who was writing furiously, his hand gripping the quill so tightly his knuckles had gone white. Despite the tension, Neville kept his focus, though Harry noticed the slight tremble in his wrist whenever Moody came near.

"You alright?" Harry whispered quietly to Neville when Moody's back was turned.

Neville gave a short nod, though he didn't look up from his parchment. "Fine," he muttered, though his voice was strained. Harry didn't press further. He knew better than anyone that pushing Neville wouldn't help. If anything, it would only make him more uncomfortable.

Tracey leaned over slightly from her spot beside Harry, muttering under her breath, "Think he enjoys scaring the life out of us, or is it just a bonus?"

Harry gave a faint smirk but didn't respond. Moody—or rather, Crouch—was definitely enjoying himself. 

"Now, about the Imperius Curse," Moody said loudly, interrupting Harry's thoughts. "I'll be putting you lot under it next lesson."

A collective murmur broke out among the students. Several faces turned pale, and Hermione looked scandalized. "You can't be serious!" she blurted out before she could stop herself.

Moody's mouth twisted into something resembling a grin. "Serious as death, Granger. You'll thank me when you learn how to throw it off. Better you learn here, where it's safe, than out there, where it's not."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue but seemed to think better of it, biting her lip instead. When the class ended, they all gathered around Harry near the door.

"Why do I feel like you've got some weird grudge against the professor, Harry?" Pansy asked, one brow raised as she gave him a curious look.

Harry chuckled lightly, shrugging. "Just an academic disagreement. Nothing worth brooding over."

A few of them squinted at him, clearly unconvinced but not interested enough to press further. None of them had any clue that the real Mad-Eye Moody was currently locked in a trunk somewhere while Barty Crouch Jr. played pretend. Harry had even tampered with their enchanted maps, ensuring they would show 'Alastor Moody' as usual. It wouldn't do to ruin Dumbledore's little plans just yet.

Turning toward his friends, Harry gave them a sharp nod. "Get the word out to the other houses. Tell everyone to meet up in the Duelling Club tonight. I'm going to teach you how to throw off the Imperius Curse."

Hermione frowned as they started walking toward the stairs. "Are you against the professor's teaching method?" she asked, sounding hesitant but serious.

"I am," Harry replied bluntly. "The curse can be fought, but there's a problem with how he's planning to go about it."

"How so?" Blaise asked, his curiosity piqued.

Harry gave a short nod. "He's trying to teach us how to resist, sure, but he's also giving students a taste of submission. The more you give in, even if it's just for practice, the easier it gets to control you. We can't afford that, can we?"

Tracey frowned, falling into step beside him. "Makes sense. So, what's your brilliant plan then, Potter? Teach us how to stay stubborn?"

"Pretty much," Harry said with a shrug. "There's a mental trick to resisting it. You can't just rely on force of will alone—there's a bit of strategy to it. I'll explain when everyone's there."

"Lovely," Daphne said dryly, keeping pace. "Another fun evening spent dodging hexes and curses."

"You act like you don't enjoy it," Tracey muttered, smirking at her as they reached the stairs. "Besides, better to deal with Harry's brand of torture than whatever Moody's planning next."

Daphne didn't argue, though her lips twitched faintly, betraying her amusement.

After everyone went their separate ways, Harry pulled Neville toward the Astronomy Tower. Once they reached the top, Harry took a seat on the ledge, motioning for Neville to do the same. For a while, neither of them spoke. The night air was crisp, and the soft rustling of leaves from the Forbidden Forest drifted up toward them.

Finally, Harry broke the silence. "At the end of this year, I will hand Barty Crouch Jr. to you."

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