VIII. THE GOBLET OF FIRE

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VIII. THE GOBLET OF FIRE
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The last class of the week for the sixth-year Gryffindors was, unfortunately, Defense Against the Dark Arts and nobody was looking forward to it. The class had slowly trickled empty over the past couple of weeks, with more and more students skipping it entirely. What remained were ten students, three of which included Ivy, Fred and George. Two of which did not, in fact, want to be there but were forced to by a certain vivacious redhead.

Professor Moody was a callous man, not only in appearance but inside as well. He did not care for the well-being of his students and did not care if someone left his class with tears in their eyes. Uncomfortable to look at, Moody had a tick that creeped Ivy out; he licked his lips uncontrollably like a gecko licks its eyes, and after he would take a big gulp from the flask he always kept with him. Nobody knew what was in it, but by the way Moody acted, it was surely some sort of alcoholic beverage. Ivy and Fred had put a bet on it.

"Professor, isn't the use of any of the curses on another human illegal in Britain?" Ivy pointed out as she shrunk in her seat before the sharp gaze of Moody's fake eye.

Moody had cleared away the desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving a large clear space in the middle of the room.

"You said to use it against another human was..." Ivy searched for the right word.

"Barbaric!" Max MacGregor exclaimed and shut his mouth as Moody raised his wand at him.

"Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like, the lot of you, from fourth year and above," said Moody. His fake eye, certainly imbued with some kind of magic, swivelled around the class with an eerie, unblinking stare. "How're you supposed to know when you've got the Imperius on you when you haven't felt it before, huh? You wanna learn it when someone's putting it on you so they can control your every move, make you do things you'd never wanna do?" His eye landed on Ivy, and a shiver went down her spine. "Make you kill, whoever they wanted to? Make you turn against your friends, rat them out? If you want that—fine by me. You're excused. Off you go." He pointed one gnarled finger toward the door.

Ivy wavered and looked longingly at the door, but Moody had just put a challenge in front of her and like hell was she not going to pick up the gauntlet. Tilting her head to the side, she looked up at the Professor. "Oh, that isn't what I meant. I was just making sure it wasn't illegal. I'd gladly give the Imperius a chance."

Moody's scarred mouth pulled into a knotty smirk. "Go on then, Evans," he motioned to the open space, "take the stage."

Ivy did as told and moved into the space Moody had cleared of desks. Calming herself down and getting ready, Ivy threw an uneasy grin toward the twins.

Moody moved to the other side of the open space, pointed his wand at Ivy, and said, "Imperio!"

A most delightful feeling overtook Ivy's body, spreading from her heart and racing through her limbs until her entire being felt like it could float up into the sky. Every thought and worry in her head, all thoughts about strange clones and mean French students were wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague, untraceable happiness. She stood there feeling immensely relaxed, only dimly aware of everyone watching her. She did not care, she felt as if she had just bitten into one of Mr. Williamson's freshly baked chocolate chip muffins.

And then she heard Mad-Eye Moody's voice, echoing in some distant chamber of her empty brain: walk around like a chicken... flap your arms like wings...

Ivy bent her arms like wings at her side and prepared to screech like a chicken.

Act like a chicken...

Why would I do that, strange, ethereal voice in my head? Another voice had awoken in the back of her mind. Your chicken impression really isn't that good, said the voice.

Do it! exclaimed the mysterious voice, act like a CHICKEN!

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