Was there anything more unacceptable than getting detention right at the start of the school year?
No. But there was one thing that came very close: having Potions as your very first class and having to face the Potions professor, Severus Snape.
Outside the castle, the sun was shining brightly, but the underground classroom was as gloomy as ever. Including Eda, there were only ten students in the room. Of the other nine, Eda only recognized Clark Gerald and Cedric Diggory.
Snape drifted up to the front of the classroom like a giant black bat. First, he swept his gaze over the mere ten students present, then he began speaking.
"In your first year, I told you that I would teach you how to bottle glory and even put a stopper in death. Now that those idiots who dragged everyone down are gone, I think you may be able to handle some more advanced material... However, just because you have met the standards for this advanced class does not mean you will remain here forever. Especially certain people who are overly fond of their own opinions."
In the underground classroom, every student's eyes turned toward Eda in unison. Even Clark, a well-behaved student, was looking at her. These "meaningful" remarks could only have been directed at Eda. After all, nobody else dared tug on Snape's tiger whiskers.
Just staring? As if she couldn't do that too.
So Eda looked back at everyone one by one. Her expressive eyes seemed to be saying: Why are you all looking at me? Look at the blackboard!
Looking at the blackboard was indeed useful. The lesson's topic had already appeared there: Draught of Living Death.
Snape had not changed his teaching style. He still adhered to the philosophy of "the master leads you to the door, cultivation depends on yourself." How to brew the Draught of Living Death and what ingredients it required were all clearly written in Advanced Potion-Making.
If that still needed teaching, then what, were you unable to read?
The classroom was immediately filled with the rustling sound of pages turning, followed by the harsh scraping of equipment. Everyone dragged their cauldrons in front of them, then came the clanking of weights being placed on scales.
After finishing all that, everyone lowered their heads and flipped through Advanced Potion-Making to page ten. Then they rushed to the supply cabinet to collect the required ingredients.
Eda was not in such a hurry. She first tied back her hair, then rolled up her sleeves before beginning her preparations.
Ten minutes later, pale blue steam filled the classroom. Snape was his usual self, pacing around the dungeon while looking at the students' work with expressions of disdain.
However, the students in this classroom had all earned Outstanding grades. Nobody was making basic mistakes anymore, blowing up cauldrons, or losing their composure under Snape's gaze.
Eda's progress was the fastest in the room. The potion in her cauldron had already turned tea-brown, the ideal state for the potion at its halfway point. At that moment, Snape walked over to her and began observing her movements.
Eda had long since grown accustomed to brewing potions under Snape's scrutiny. She continued her work, using the flat side of a silver knife to crush Sopophorous beans and collect their juice.
After she finished and added the bean juice to the cauldron, Snape suddenly asked, "Miss Twist, are you unable to read?"
The potion in the cauldron had already turned a pale bluish-green. Eda replied, "I can read, Professor Snape."
She thought to herself, We've known each other for so many years. Surely you know whether I can read or not.
"Then how does the book instruct you to prepare the Sopophorous beans?" Snape continued.
"Slice the beans," Eda answered while continuing to stir the potion counterclockwise.
"Since you can read, what exactly were you doing just now?" Snape said. "Stop what you're doing and answer my question."
In Potions class, anything you did was easily noticed. Snape circled around Eda while firing off questions, naturally attracting the attention of the other students. Everyone turned to look.
There was no way Eda could fail to notice such blatant fault-finding. So what if she had not followed the textbook exactly? Did he really have to make such a huge issue out of it?
Besides, the trick of crushing Sopophorous beans with a knife was something Eda had learned by secretly copying Snape in the first place. Was it one rule for the authorities and another for everyone else?
"I had assumed Miss Twist had become capable of revising Advanced Potion-Making itself," Snape said in an extremely irritating tone. "Or does Miss Twist perhaps believe the textbook is entirely worthless?"
That was too much to tolerate.
Eda immediately fired back, "Of course I don't have that kind of ability. I learned it from an old bachelor! An old bachelor who doesn't like washing his hair and whose mind is narrower than the eye of a needle!"
"Because of your arrogance and foul language, Gryffindor will lose five points," Snape said slowly. "Additionally, detention. Tonight."
"Sorry, Professor Snape, but you're too late. Tonight I already have detention with Professor McGonagall," Eda said. "As a teacher, please don't cut in line!"
The familiar flavor, the familiar recipe. On the very first day of school, in the very first class, Snape had already served Eda the classic combination of point deductions and detention. Petty Snape still had not forgiven her for what happened last term.
Her good mood for the entire day had been ruined by Snape. It was not until she sat down in Defence Against the Dark Arts that afternoon that her mood improved a little.
After all, Snape had always wanted to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, yet he had never gotten his wish.
When the bell rang, Moody dragged his wooden leg into the classroom. He said nothing at first, instead pulling out his curved flask and taking a large gulp.
The first time he had appeared before the students yesterday, he had been like this. At lunch today, he had still been like this. It seemed Moody truly worried that someone might try to poison him, so he drank only what he brought himself.
His wooden leg struck the floor with heavy thuds as he walked. After glancing at the copies of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection on the students' desks, Moody said gruffly, "Put that useless rubbish away. You won't be needing it."
Moody shook his head and took out the class register to call roll. His normal eye moved down the list while his magical eye spun constantly, staring at every student who answered.
When he reached Eda's name, Moody suddenly paused.
"Ah, I've heard your name before. Both my predecessor, Professor Lupin, and some of my former colleagues at the Ministry have mentioned you."
As he spoke, Moody even produced what he probably considered a friendly smile. Only he would think it was friendly. When he smiled, his scar-covered face looked even more twisted and bizarre. In two words: absolutely terrifying.
After finishing roll call, Moody said, "Right, you're sixth-years now. It's time you learned about illegal Dark Magic and gained a direct understanding of it. Otherwise, why is this subject called Defence Against the Dark Arts? The Ministry has always complained about this, saying students shouldn't be exposed to such things, that the wizarding world is safe and peaceful... To hell with the Ministry! That bunch are cowards, completely useless! They do nothing. The only thing they can do is collect your corpse afterward, assuming there's a corpse left to collect."
The students were excited at first because they thought Moody was about to show them the real thing. Then they exchanged glances. It seemed Moody harbored quite a bit of resentment toward the Ministry.
"If someone wants to use Dark Magic against you, do you think they'll politely inform you beforehand? No, they won't. When they're preparing to use Dark Magic against you, you'd better be prepared to die!"
Moody paused before continuing.
"Or endure a form of abuse more cruel than death."
The Unforgivable Curses were not called Unforgivable merely because they had no counter-curses. The Killing Curse meant death. The Cruciatus Curse meant torture more terrible than death. The Imperius Curse meant control over your very soul.
Sometimes death was the merciful option. A release. The most terrifying thing in the world was never death itself, but being unable to live and unable to die.
"When facing a Dark wizard, you must be prepared either to kill them at any moment or to be killed by them at any moment," Moody continued. "Life and death are decided in an instant. My job is to teach you how to defeat your opponent within that instant."
Moody let out a hoarse laugh and clapped his rough hands together.
"It seems I've frightened you. That's not what Dumbledore told me. He described you lot as quite brave."
"Now then, who among you can tell me what the Unforgivable Curses are?"
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