𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐜𝐞 | ʜ. ᴊ. ᴘ. [ hiatus ]

• 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐚𝐥'𝐬 𝐁𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 •

warning: trauma, almost sexual harassment

❾¾ ⌁☍ ♪ ‹ 𝓶𝓪 𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓬𝓮 › ♪ ☍⌁¾❾

The next two days passed without great incident, unless you counted Neville melting his sixth cauldron in Potions.

Professor Snape, who seemed to have attained new levels of vindictiveness over the summer, gave Neville detention, and Neville returned from it in a state of nervous collapse, having been made to disembowel a barrel full of horned toads.

Mal immediately comfort Neville's nervous body, she pull out her wand then muttered 'Scourgify' removed the frog guts from under his fingernails. She cooed Neville soothing him down, hugged him as he respond her same tight; snuggle his head to Mal's head comfortably.

"You know why Snape's in such a foul mood, don't you?" said Ron.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Moody."

"His habit I s'posse," said Mal walked toward they both, sat between them as she grab her novel back. "you must have know him well, buds, every years when Hogwarts welcomed Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher; he just the one who not really pleased, Snape want the place from first place."

The Gryffindor fourth years were looking forward to Moody's first lesson so much that they arrived early on Thursday lunchtime and queued up outside his classroom before the bell had even rung.

They hurried into four chairs right in front of the teacher's desk, took out their copies of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self Protection, and waited, unusually quiet.

Soon they heard Moody's distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room, looking as strange and frightening as ever.

They could just see his clawed, wooden foot protruding from underneath his robes. Moody's raven perched on his shoulder, scanning the entire classroom with his bright green eyes unlike any other raven, a moist, messy pearly blonde crest.

"You can put those away," he growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down, his raven landed on his desk standing handsomely. "those books. You won't need them."

They returned the books to their bags, Ron looking excited.

Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled gray hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swiveled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered.

His crow walked on Moody's desk, its eyes gleaming with hunger as it watched the spider in the jar tremble at an angle.

"Right then," he said, when the last person had declared themselves present. "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures - you've covered boggarts," his eyes flashed to Mal for a moment. "Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?"

There was a general murmur of assent.