Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 387 Peter's Lesson

At the end of the opening ceremony, Mad-Eye Moody, who was late for the banquet, finished off all the snacks on the table, drank a full jug of wine, and let out a long, satisfied burp.

"The dark wizard is an unrepentant thing, and so is this stinky rat. You guys be careful at school, don't let the rat knock over the soup pot."

Mad-Eye spoke casually, his blue eyes fixed on the insect's tail: "This guy needs to be punished constantly, ripped out of his bones, torn to pieces, if breaking a finger isn't enough, break his whole hand, they need to learn their lesson!"

"Now he should be taught a lesson!" Mad-Eyes shouted, suddenly grabbing a silver object and slamming it heavily on the table.

……

The insect's tail trembled violently, as if it had lost its balance and fallen off a cliff, waking it from its sleep.

He was shocked to find that he wasn't hiding in the silverware. The teachers' meeting last night was over, and he was now lying on a bed in the Defense Against the Dark Arts professors' lounge, gripping not Mad-Eye's rough hand, but a warm blanket.

There were still some dark red embers in the fireplace. The room was spacious and warm. Mad-Eye Moody's suitcase was placed against the wall, and on the table was a strand of long gray hair and several bottles of Polyjuice Potion, made by Snape.

The nightmare was fading quickly, but Mad-Eye's hideous and terrifying face remained in his mind. Insect Tail silently turned over and opened the window for ventilation.

The downpour had stopped, and the thick, leaden clouds parted a few gaps, letting in the September sunshine of Scotland. The moist, fresh air cleared my mind.

He no longer needed to disguise himself as a rat, nor did he need to worry about Aurors and Voldemort. Although he still had to pretend to be Mad-Eye, Professor McGonagall and Professor Levent knew his true identity, so he wasn't as apprehensive.

Despite having nightmares, it was the most peaceful sleep he had had in years, even more comforting than when he was hiding in his humble abode.

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts..."

Peter Pettigrew greedily inhaled the fresh air.

……

Breakfast time in the castle chapel.

Melvin, with half a slice of buttered toast in his mouth, forcefully unfolded this morning's Daily Prophet, making a rustling sound that drew sidelong glances from his colleagues.

Sitting on either side of him were Headmaster Dumbledore and Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Moody, both of whom were imposters who needed special attention to avoid revealing their true identities.

Fortunately, Dumbledore was eccentric by nature and had some experience with disguise last semester, while Mad-Eye Moody was a freak in appearance, so even if he showed one or two abnormalities, the students wouldn't pay too much attention.

“Sir, I have a Defense Against the Dark Arts class this morning.” Peter’s voice was trembling with nervousness. “I don’t know how to attend the class.”

"Did Mad-Eye leave behind any lesson plans or anything before he left?" Melvin's attention remained on the newspaper.

"I...I don't dare to ask him, he'll make me make teaching aids."

Melvin sighed. Peter's food was barely touched; to maintain the Mad-Eye Man persona, the man was behaving excessively timidly.

Peter took out the curved bottle and took a swig. He remembered clearly that it had been almost fifty minutes since he got up and left the lounge, and the effects of the Polyjuice Potion were starting to wear off.

Peter frowned, the Mad-Eye's tone clearly not pleasant: "I looked through several years' worth of Defense Against the Dark Arts textbooks, trying to teach according to the textbooks step by step, but I felt that Mad-Eye wouldn't do it that way. This normal teaching method doesn't fit his crazy personality."

"Then you go ahead and give your lectures in a crazy way, and think about what Mad-Eye would do."

"I can't think of anything. I'm not used to being watched by a lot of people. I just want to hide."

Melvin turned a page of the newspaper, glanced at the principal on the other side who was devouring a sandwich, and felt an even bigger headache coming on. After a moment of contemplation, he said:
"For the younger students, just follow the textbook and let them study on their own. For the older students, be more aggressive and teach them some practical curses and dark magic... Focus on Harry, scare him, make him afraid, and teach them the Unforgivable Curse."

"No..." Peter gasped, his voice rising several decibels, "You...you want to teach me the Killing Curse too?"

"Not only should we teach them, but we should also demonstrate to them."

Melvin put down his newspaper, turned around, and chuckled softly, saying, "Avada Kedavra, you should be familiar with that, right?"

Peter's hand holding the flask trembled. He wasn't used to the extra finger, as if he had Parkinson's disease, or as if he had been injured by incurable black magic in his youth.

He didn't know how to answer, so he reluctantly agreed, "I don't have his class until Thursday."

……

"The Ministry of Magic has another problem."

"The Ministry of Magic's troubles, which have just experienced turmoil, seem far from over. The Minister and Senior Deputy Minister have been dismissed, the Quidditch World Cup final was disrupted twice, a witch employee who had been missing for a long time while on leave has returned, and the Ministry of Magic has been under constant criticism since last year. Yesterday, the Ministry of Magic was once again put in an embarrassing situation because of Arthur Weasley of the Office for Prohibiting the Misuse of Muggle Items and retired Auror Alastor Moody..."

The front page of the newspaper featured several trash cans chasing Muggles, some spraying melon rinds and fish bones out, others constantly opening and closing their lids as they chased and bit. A group of Muggle police officers stood by, holding pistols and looking panicked, unsure whether to shoot. Beside them was Arthur, who was in a flustered state.

As the most influential publication in the British wizarding world, many young wizards subscribe to the Daily Prophet and were amused by this absurd scene when they saw the news this morning.

While the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor students were somewhat restrained, the snickers from the Slytherin table were clear, harsh, and undisguised.

"Ha, what a disgrace to purebloods."

Pansy Parkinson deliberately raised her voice: "If you ask me, the Twenty-Eight Purebloods shouldn't have included the Weasleys. What do you think, Draco? Look at their houses, can you even call them houses?"

Draco glanced at her indifferently, said nothing, and calmly wiped his mouth with a napkin before getting up and leaving the hall.

If he had just entered Hogwarts, he might have echoed a few words, but now he was no longer a ten-year-old child. He had already done business on behalf of Malfoy and Longbottom and had received guidance from Professor Levent.

Having established himself as someone who understands the rules of profit and has begun taking over the family business, he no longer regards this bullying game.

After the Malfoy family's influence grew following the filming of "The Magical Epic," he obtained inside information about the Goblet of Fire through various channels. He needed to hurry up and practice magic to prepare for the Goblet of Fire.

But Ron, sitting at the Gryffindor table, was still trembling with rage: "Damn it! Parkinson's!"

Ginny's retort was much swifter: "Parkinson! Who do you think wants to be on the same list as you? Death Eater families, criminal families, where are your uncles and aunts now? In Azkaban?"

Harry looked up at the girl in a daze. Ginny paused for a few seconds, then turned her head away, a few unnatural blushes crossing her face.

Where are your relatives?

"Azkaban prison?"

George and Fred repeated these two sentences, cheering for their sister's brilliant speech, and the two sides immediately started arguing, attracting the attention of the entire auditorium.

There were few adult wizards in the Great Hall at this time. The headmasters had finished distributing the timetables for the third and fifth grades, and the professors had finished breakfast and returned to their offices or classrooms to prepare for the first lesson of the new school year. Melvin finished his meal and prepared to leave.

Peter limped along beside them. The students' noise grew louder and louder. He didn't want to get involved. He had seen similar shouting and cursing during his student days, but back then he always hid behind James and Sirius.

Clever mice know how to avoid danger.

“You’re not Peter Pettigrew now, you’re Mad-Eye Moody. You can’t run away. Think about what he’ll do if he sees this.” Melvin turned and stopped him, leaving those words behind before departing.

Peter stood there, troubled, his brow furrowed and his face contorted with worry. After struggling for a long time, he finally turned around. Seeing that Pansy was about to draw her wand to cast a spell, he immediately snapped and shouted:
"Oh, no, you mustn't do that, witch!"

“I despise people who attack others behind their backs. It’s dirty, despicable, and cowardly… Never do it again! Do you hear me?”

……

In September 1994, as the new school year began and the young wizards returned to school, the Quidditch World Cup was still a hot topic of conversation, with a constant stream of new topics of discussion. From the Great Hall to the Astronomy Tower, from the Black Lake to the playing field, everyone was talking about school news:
"The Quidditch Academy Cup has been cancelled, and the Fireball Tournament will begin in October."

“George and Fred smuggled and sold good stuff that wasn’t on the contraband list, and they could play with it openly in the hallway, right in front of the warden, Filch.”

"A retired Auror was rehired as a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. He was ruthless and hated evil. On the first day, he punished his students by turning them into rats."

"..."

On Thursday afternoon, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked down the castle corridor, just like the other fourth-year students in Gryffindor. They had just finished lunch and were heading to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom for Professor Moody's first lesson.

“George and Fred say the new professor’s classes are awesome, they have Professor Moody’s class on Monday.” Harry held up this semester’s textbook, “Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Defense.”

"Of course, he's a retired Auror, a real expert."

Ron was extremely excited. That morning in the auditorium, it was Professor Moody who helped him teach Parkinson a lesson by turning the witch into a rat and hanging her upside down in mid-air as punishment.

"This year's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is sure to be fine; it's Mad-Eye Moody, the guy that dark wizards tremble with fear!"

He rubbed his hands together and hummed, "If Professor McGonagall hadn't come back and stopped me that morning, I would have been happy for several more days."

Hermione frowned slightly. She also disliked Parkinson's behavior, but she didn't approve of that kind of parenting style.
"This is wrong. It's not just professors punishing students; it's also common practice to beat and scold house-elves. The social system in the wizarding world is chaotic... Perhaps I should write a feature article for the Daily Prophet."

Ron curled his lip impatiently: "Isn't that what Professor Levent is doing?"

The two started arguing, one after the other, which made Harry's ears hurt. Just as he was about to say something, he looked up and suddenly saw two professors walking side by side in front of him. He immediately tugged at their sleeves:

"Stop arguing, Professor McGonagall and Professor Levent are coming."

Hermione and Ron immediately fell silent, politely nodding to the professor in greeting. The professor returned the nod, and as the two groups passed each other, the echoes of their conversation could still be heard.

“Outrageous! Absolutely outrageous! Hogwarts hasn’t seen anything like this for decades. Using Transfiguration to punish students—Professor Depp banned this practice during his tenure…”

Upon hearing Professor McGonagall's words, Hermione gave Ron a look and slightly raised her fair chin.

Ron snorted, not wanting to argue with her anymore.

Since returning from his summer internship at the Prophet's Newspaper, this guy has reverted to some of the nerdy traits he had in his freshman year. He corrects any incorrect opinions he hears, citing numerous sources to make it impossible for anyone to refute him.

The two professors gradually walked away, and the sounds of their conversation faded away.

"Stop nagging, ma'am. That was a special case, necessary for the disguise."

"Something's not right with the classes either. Some students have already complained to me. I'll have to come back and check on how he's teaching after I finish dealing with the budget arrangements!"

Watching the two professors leave, Harry tilted his head, lost in thought: "Is Professor McGonagall coming to observe the proceedings?"

Disguise? What disguise?
I have a feeling that the professors are acting strangely this new school year. First, Headmaster Dumbledore told him not to get involved in Voldemort's affairs. Then, Snape, who had been slightly better, relapsed and targeted Gryffindor. Even though he no longer needs to brew medicine for Remus every week, his temper seems to have gotten worse.

"Stop daydreaming, Harry, the school bell is ringing."

……

Twenty minutes later, in the classroom on the third floor.

The long-awaited Defense Against the Dark Arts class was something the fourth-year students had already heard from other grades praising the professor—a true expert in Dark Arts, whose teaching was top-notch. The students arrived early after lunch, and even Professor Moody's menacing appearance didn't deter them from crowding into the front row to listen to the lecture.

"I received a letter from Professor Lupin summarizing your progress in this course last semester. You've already grasped a considerable amount of basic knowledge regarding dealing with dark creatures—Red Hat, Hinkpunk, Grindelwald…"

"But you are completely unqualified when it comes to dealing with dark wizards."

"Can anyone tell me which black magic will be subject to the harshest judgment and the most severe punishment?"

"My learned and all-knowing lady, you've earned Gryffindor 5 points... But back to the point, that's right! It's the Unforgivable Curse!"

The first lesson of the new semester was packed with important content.

Defense Against the Dark Arts class is about learning about the dark arts, and the Unforgivable Curse is an insurmountable obstacle in dark magic. The professor has a very good reason to demonstrate it to the students.

But Professor McGonagall, who was waiting outside, couldn't accept it at all. At this moment, the vice-principal was trembling with anger, his glasses flashing with fury:

“In all my years at Hogwarts… I’ve never, never…”

"How dare he... that's an unforgivable curse..."

"If I hadn't come to sit in on the class today, I wouldn't know anything..."

Seeing that the vice principal was about to rush in and stop the class, Melvin reached out to stop her and pulled her a short distance outside: "Madam, this is my suggestion."

Professor McGonagall looked up at him, wanting an explanation.

"Let them see, Hogwarts is not a greenhouse, but a storm is coming."

Professor McGonagall paused, her lips pressed into a straight line, and remained silent for a long time. She glanced at the students inside who were listening to the lecture, their faces pale with fear, and then quietly turned and left.

(End of this chapter)