When the Girl Who Lived was pointed out to him, Barty had been appropriately shocked. The girl was the shortest of her year, even shorter than some of the lower years, and was decidedly baby-faced. She was also a Hufflepuff, and the sweetest tempered one if the other professors were to be believed.
She was so modest, they said, she was generous and was a hard-worker that tutored other students in her free time. She was a good student and they hadn't had a lick of trouble from her since she had arrived, being amongst the most cooperative students they knew of. The praise of her was enough to make him sick. On the day that the fourth-years had Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potter had arrived with a crowd of other Hufflepuffs surrounding her. It might have been his over-wrought mind playing tricks on him, but she seemed to exude an air of benevolence as if she was the personification of Light.
Fitting really, since to him she stood for everything he wanted to destroy. Tucked in the crook of her elbow was a doll that was identical to her in looks and dress.
It was approximately a foot in height and made out of china. On top of looking exactly like her, it wore a wide-eyed, soft expression on its face that lent extra sweet-'n'-fluffiness to the girl's winsome atmosphere. Its existence was also completely incongruent with the image of Heri Potter he'd had in his head.
Barty admitted that he'd had a very fixed idea of what the Potter girl would be like. She'd be tall and mature for her age, fitting for one that achieved the unachievable at such a tender age. She would be an arrogant Gryffindor that revelled in the adoration of the Light sheep that praised her for bringing the Dark Lord low.
She would Dumbledore's little pet that he'd be grooming to eventually take his place as the principle opposition of all things Dark, and she'd be a little brat that had never had to work for anything in life, all the training and information she'd ever need handed to her on a silver platter.
It was difficult realigning himself after the paradigm shift. "You can put those away," Barty growled when the students filled their seats. He stumped over to his desk and sat down.
"Those books. You won't need them." They returned the books to their bags, the children buzzed excitedly, obviously eager for a practical lesson. Barty took out a register and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while the magical eye he had nicked from Moody swivelled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered. "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, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, kappas, and werewolves, is that right?" There was a general murmur of assent.
"But you're behind — very behind — on dealing with curses," he said. "So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark." He gave a harsh laugh and then clapped his gnarled hands together. "So — straight into it.
Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year.
You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better.
"How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking."
The Brown girl jumped in her seat and flushed at being caught. She obediently put away the sheet of parchment she had been showing to the girl next to her as Barty watched her steadily. "So . . . do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by law?" Several hands rose tentatively into the air.
Barty's demonstration of the Imperius Curse on a spider had them laughing until he threatened to use it on them. That shut them up proper, all horrified at the thought of being controlled in such a way.
They seemed hesitant to volunteer another answer after that, but two Gryffindors, a boy and a girl, raised their hands despite their reluctance. He was sure they regretted it when he cast the Cruciatus on the second spider.
The spider's legs bent into its body. It rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side. The brats didn't like it at all, not even the Death Eater whelps that sat in the back and thought they were seasoned Dark wizards. The spider started to shudder and jerk more violently — "Stop it!" shrieked the Gryffindor girl that volunteered before.
She was looking not at the spider, but at the one that had suggested the Cruciatus, the Longbottom lad. The boy's hands were clenched upon the desk in front of him, his knuckles white, his eyes wide and horrified.
Barty released the spell to all the students' visible relief. Wet-behind-the-ears runts, the lot of them. He shrunk the spider back to its original size and put it back in the jar. "Pain," he said eventually. "You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse. That one was very popular once too. Anyone know any others?"
-----------
If you want to read ahead by 40+ chapters from here you can visit my Patre-on.
[P] [A] [T] [R] [E] [O] [N]
[email protected]/Playerfanfic