novelcrest Chapter 451 End of the Month
Chapter 451 End of the Month
Chapter 451 Late October
Of course, for Harry and Ron, Professor Phillips' Muggle Studies course only sparked some superficial thinking, but when it came to Defense Against the Dark Arts class, the new professor Moody brought a complete shock.
Pure shock.
Apart from Harry as a baby, these inexperienced young wizards had never seen the Unforgivable Curse in person, let alone imagined that one day this terrifying spell would appear at Hogwarts, in their Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
This is absolutely outrageous!
"Alright. These three spells—Avada Kedavra, Imperius Curse, and Cruciatus Curse—are all known as the Unforgivable Curses. Using any one of them on a human is enough to condemn you to a lifetime in Azkaban. This is what you must resist. This is what I'm going to teach you to resist. You need to be prepared, always vigilant, and never let your guard down. Take out your quills—write these down—"
Moody's words struck the hearts of every young wizard like a heavy hammer, his tone devoid of any pity or tolerance.
He stood on the platform, his cold gaze sweeping over the young wizards in the room.
"Remember, never underestimate the power of dark magic. What we're learning here is how to protect ourselves, not how to destroy it. Because even if you have the power to fight it, you could still pay an irreparable price for a moment of carelessness."
When Moody demonstrated the three unforgivable curses, his previous words became even more vivid and concrete, striking everyone's hearts like bolts of lightning.
The classroom atmosphere, which started with curiosity, became increasingly oppressive. The students all lowered their heads and took notes diligently—even though no one knew if these notes would ever come in handy, everyone was still engrossed in recording every word and every warning.
Merlin above, hopefully we won't need to use this.
Most of them prayed in this way.
The classroom fell into a deathly silence; the air seemed to freeze.
Even the students who usually love to talk didn't dare to speak.
Everyone was thinking about the spells they had just seen, those very evil black magic spells.
Only when the bell rang did the classroom seem to be freed from some kind of cold constraint. The students put down their pens with a sigh of relief, quickly packed up their books, and prepared to leave.
However, as soon as they stepped out of the classroom, a torrent of discussion erupted, like a flood bursting its banks—everyone was whispering about the spell Moody had just demonstrated and the terror of the black magic.
"Did you see the spider twitching?"
"—He killed the spider in one swift motion—it was that simple!"
"Did you hear that? That spell—" Ron's voice trembled slightly; he hadn't yet recovered from the shock of the class—even though his twin brothers had already warned him.
"I never imagined the Avada Kedavra curse could be so simple—a single word, a single action, could take a life." Harry's expression was grave. The green light Moody had shown him was still lingering in his mind—so this was how his parents had died—exactly like that spider. Were they also without a trace, without any trauma? Did they also see a flash of green light, hear the hurried footsteps of Death, and then their lives vanished from their bodies?
"I still don't understand why we have to learn these things," Hermione suddenly spoke, her voice a little hurried. "We're students, not warriors. Even though we have to protect ourselves, if we really encounter a situation like this one day, can we really fight back with spells?"
"Not everyone has the chance to fight back," Harry said with a wry smile. "Sometimes, the power and speed of a spell are simply beyond your control."
“But—Professor Moody is right,” Hermione frowned, her eyes filled with confusion, “even if you can fight back, if you make a slight mistake…”
The consequences would be unimaginable.
“Yes, that’s what black magic is like,” Ron interrupted her, whispering, “It’s always waiting for you to make a mistake, and once you let your guard down, it doesn’t give you even the slightest chance.”
Hermione opened her notebook, which contained the following writing:
"The Avada Kedavra Curse—instantly fatal, with no cure. The Imperius Curse—controls the soul of another, an absolute taboo. The Cruciatus Curse—brings pain to its extreme, making life worse than death."
For Hermione, there are two big things happening this semester.
The first thing was to ask Professor Phillips for a request—the second thing was about house-elves.
After much thought these past few days, Hermione finally realized that instead of relying directly on Professor Phillips' help, she should take action herself and find a solution.
That day, when Hermione returned to the common room after researching in the library, Harry and Ron were unusually engrossed in a book, writing something—the table was a mess, with parchment scattered all over the floor, covered with numbers and symbols.
Hermione approached quietly, and immediately understood.
The book they were holding was none other than the textbook for their prophecy class: "Seeing the Future Through the Fog".
"I have absolutely no idea what this thing means," Harry said, looking down at the long calculation formula with a furrowed brow.
"How's it going?" Ron's hair was sticking up in the air as he scratched his head because of a headache. "Let's stick to our usual divination routine."
"You mean you made it all up out of thin air?" Hermione, standing behind them, couldn't help but interject.
“Yeah.” Ron swept the pile of draft papers on the table onto the floor, dipped his brush in ink, and began to write. “Next Monday,” he said as he wrote, “I might cough because Mars and Jupiter are unfortunately in conjunction.” He looked up at Harry. “You know her—she’ll make up as many bad things as possible; she loves that.”
"Exactly." Harry crumpled the paper and tossed it into the fire. "Well—on Monday, I'll be in—well, in danger of getting burned."
"Yes, you are in danger." Ron frowned. "We'll be seeing the Blasttail again on Monday. Okay, on Tuesday, I'll— um—"
"You'll lose money," Harry said as he flipped through "Seeing the Future Through the Fog" for inspiration.
"Good idea," Ron quickly wrote it down, "because... well—Mercury. And you, you got stabbed in the back by someone you thought was a friend, how about that?"
"Great—that's so cool—" Harry jotted down notes hastily. "Because—Venus is in the twentieth house of the zodiac."
"Then, on Wednesday I got into a fight and lost."
"Ah, I was just thinking of writing about fighting too. Okay, I'll write about losing money in a bet."
"Yes, just say you bet I'll win the fight—"
Harry flipped through "Seeing the Future Through the Fog," closed the book, and looked at Hermione with some unease, seeking her help: "Hermione, honestly, can we really make this up? What if she finds out we're making it up? That would be bad."
"What kind of nonsense is this?" Hermione scoffed. "This doesn't seem like fortune-telling at all; it's just making trouble for yourselves." She shook her head and added, "However, if she actually guesses that you're making it up, it might turn out to be a good thing unexpectedly."
"What do you mean?" Ron looked at her in confusion.
"What do you mean?" Hermione paused deliberately. "By doing this, you might actually leave a deep impression on her; she might think you're 'creative.'"
Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, neither of them seeming to fully understand Hermione's meaning.
Hermione sighed. "Anyway, don't go too far. You know Professor Trelawney likes to judge your 'fate' based on these little details."
"Oh, Hermione, you're so naive," Ron said with a chuckle, patting Hermione on the shoulder. "She'll never even notice."
Just as Ron was smugly introducing how he would drown once, be trampled to death by a rampaging hippogriff, die once, and be killed by a meteorite once (only Merlin knew who would resurrect him)—Harry had already noticed the box in Hermione's hand.
"What's in the box?" Harry asked curiously.
Hermione opened the box and showed them what was inside. There were about fifty badges, all different colors, but all bearing the same letters: SPEW.
"Vomiting?" Harry picked up a badge, examined it closely, and asked, "What does this mean?"
“It’s not vomiting,” Hermione said impatiently. “It’s SPEW. It means ‘House-Elf Rights Promotion Society’.”
"Never heard of it." Ron shrugged.
"Of course you haven't heard of it," Hermione said crisply. "It's something I just founded."
"Huh?" Ron was slightly surprised. "How many members do you have?"
"Hmm—if you two participate too—there will be three," Hermione replied.
"You think we want to walk around wearing badges that say 'vomit'?" Ron joked.
"It's SPEW!" Hermione corrected him irritably. "I originally wanted to name it 'A Movement to Stop the Cruelty to Our Magical Creature Friends and Improve Their Legal Status,' but it was too long. So I used this as the title of the association's manifesto."
She waved the roll of parchment at them, a determined look on her face.
"I've been studying this issue in depth at the library. The slavery of elves dates back centuries, and I can't believe no one has ever taken any action."
"Hermione—listen to this," Ron shouted, "they like it. They like being slaves!"
Hermione glared at Ron, her brow furrowed, her voice filled with anger: "How can you say that? They were forced to accept this fate; they had no choice! If we don't speak up, things will never get any better!" She waved the parchment in her hand forcefully, continuing her impassioned explanation, "I don't care what others think; we must at least fight for them a chance!"
Hermione spread out the plan in her hand, her eyes sparkling, her tone filled with excitement and determination: "Our short-term goal is to ensure that house-elves receive fair wages and good working conditions. Our long-term goal is to amend the laws prohibiting the use of wands and to strive to get at least one elf into the Department of Magical Creatures Control. I've done a lot of research and found that the interests of elves are almost completely ignored in this society, which is shocking!"
"How can we do this?" Harry asked, though he had some doubts, but was also infected by Hermione's passion.
"First, we need to recruit members," Hermione said confidently. "Each member will pay two silver shiks—one for purchasing a badge—which will then be used to print flyers and promotional materials. Our goal is to ensure that every wizard knows about the current situation of house-elves and that their voices should be heard!"
“You’re right,” Hermione continued. “Next, Ron, you’ll be the treasurer. I’ve already set up a piggy bank upstairs with our start-up capital in it. You’ll be in charge of collecting membership fees and managing the funds.”
"Okay, that doesn't sound too bad." Ron nodded reluctantly.
"Harry, you'll be our secretary," Hermione said excitedly. "You'll be writing down everything I say right now as a record of our first meeting! We need to document this event for future reference."
Harry touched his hair, a little confused in his eyes, but looking at Hermione's determined gaze, he couldn't help but feel that he should lend a hand.
He picked up a pen and paper and began to take notes.
"Then, we will hold our first general meeting to encourage more people to join. My goal is to make every participant realize that only when we fight for the real rights of house-elves will their lives change."
"Understood," Harry said softly, though he was still wondering if the tasks were too ambitious, but Hermione's determination made him want to support her.
"You both need to participate seriously! This is a major project," Hermione said excitedly. "The future of the elves depends on our joint efforts!"
In fact, Hermione said it, and she did it.
In the following days, Harry and Ron could see her moving around every corner of Hogwarts, promoting her new plans.
She not only collected information in the library, but also went to various colleges to find students and try to make them understand the plight of house-elves and her SPEW project.
With passionate language, she described the lives of the elves and her ideal—that every house-elves could live a more dignified life.
Although Hermione's ideals were lofty, reality was not as simple as she imagined.
Several students looked confused after listening to Hermione's speech, and some even expressed no interest at all.
Especially the Slytherin students, who didn't seem willing to join the movement, and many ridiculed her "boring fantasies".
In this atmosphere, the first two months of school passed quietly, and Hermione's plans progressed slowly, though she remained undeterred.
Until the last week of October arrived.
During this week's Muggle Studies class, Sean frowned slightly as he looked at Hermione, who was looking listless in the audience.