A Past Reclaimed by nuw255
Chapter Notes: Classes begin, and Snape has to teach about something that both fascinates and disgusts him. Surprises continue during Charms and DADA.
“Welcome back,” hissed Professor Snape. How that man could manage to make two innocent words sound so sinister was completely beyond Harry. “We shall begin this term by studying-” he grimaced and lowered his voice just slightly, “-Love Potions.” Harry had to bite his lip to keep from snickering at the Potions Master’s obvious disgust, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Ginny’s face reddening from a similar effort.
“As you ought to know already if you have been paying attention in my previous classes ” Snape glared directly at Harry, “-I dislike the name ‘Love Potions,’ as they do not create love, but obsession.” Harry had to fight very hard to resist the urge to whisper to Ginny that Snape’s real reason for disliking the name ‘Love Potions’ was because he didn’t believe in love. One glance at her face, however, told him that she was most likely thinking the same thing.
“Elixirs of Obsession, as they ought to be called, are among the more powerful methods available to a skilled witch or wizard who is interested in bewitching the mind of another,” the Potions Master continued. “When properly brewed and administered, a sufficiently strong elixir can control its victim in situations where even the Imperius Curse would fail.”
The class, which had already been very quiet, suddenly became absolutely silent. When the professor spoke again, his voice was even more deadly than usual. “For this reason, if I find that I have cause to even suspect that one of you has misused the knowledge gained in this class-” his gaze lingered on Harry and Ginny just a bit longer than it had on the Slytherins, “-I will not hesitate to remove you from my class and take all measures necessary to ensure that it does not happen again. I am by no means squeamish about Obliviating a student-” his eyes flicked to Harry for a split second, and Harry felt his jaw clench involuntarily, “-if the situation calls for it.”
Snape glared menacingly around the classroom, allowing his threat to sink in for a long moment. “Today, we will begin brewing the Eye of the Maiden, a ‘Love Potion’ which is reasonably simple to concoct, but quite effective nevertheless.” He tapped the blackboard with his wand, causing the instructions for the potion to appear. Harry resisted the urge to groan at the brew’s complexity.
“Your written assignment is a three-foot essay on five different types of chocolate-” Harry wondered how anyone could make the word ‘chocolate’ sound so vile, “-and the effects that each can add to a Love Potion, due one week from today. You may begin.”
The remainder of the class period passed in relative silence, the only sounds being whispered instructions between partners and the bubbling of the cauldrons. By the end of the lesson, Harry and Ginny’s potion was a shimmering silvery-gray color - not quite the bright silver it should have been, but at least as good as any of the other potions they could see as they glanced around the room while packing up their ingredients.
“Do you know how to block a Memory Charm?” Harry whispered urgently as soon as they were free of the dungeons.
Ginny looked at him quizzically and shook her head. “Never thought about it. Why?”
“Snape,” Harry answered simply. When she continued to look confused, he added, “You know how he likes to blame everything on me. If anything suspicious happens with these Love Potions, he’s bound to try and pin it on me. And there is no way I’m letting him or anyone else play around with my memory.” His eyes flashed dangerously. “Ever.”
Ginny nodded in understanding. “I really don’t think even Snape would try Obliviating a student without Dumbledore’s permission, but I see your point. Let’s ask Hermione at lunch. If she doesn’t know the answer, she’ll probably at least know where to find it.”
They soon arrived at the Charms classroom, where they slid into their usual seats with plenty of time to spare before the beginning of the lesson.
“Welcome back, class,” squeaked tiny Professor Flitwick from where he stood atop his desk. Harry reflected on the fact that, although Flitwick and Snape had begun their classes with exactly the same greeting, the meaning the words conveyed was completely different.
“We will be beginning the term with a very complicated charm that is normally reserved for Healer or Auror training,” Flitwick continued, “but I think you’ll all agree that it is quite important for all of us to have a few good healing skills at the present time.” Harry and Ginny shared a nervous glance, and Harry noticed most of the other students doing the same. Everyone knew there was a war on, despite the fact that Voldemort still had yet to launch a full-scale attack. Harry privately suspected that the only reason for the relative infrequency of Death Eater attacks was because their master’s first priority was eliminating the boy who supposedly had the power to defeat him.
“The spell is commonly known as the False Death Charm, because it gives the patient the appearance of death,” the tiny professor continued. Two or three students nodded in understanding. “It is used for serious medical cases because it puts the patient into a state of suspended animation, in order to keep him or her alive long enough to get proper medical attention.” Harry’s ears perked up; this charm could turn out to be very useful indeed.
“The incantation is Moreproba,” said Professor Flitwick. He demonstrated the proper wand motions before continuing, “The counter-charm is Alacrita, since a simple Rennervate would have no effect, but we won’t concern ourselves with that just yet. For now, we will focus on correctly performing the charm on rabbits.”
Flitwick hopped down from his desk to his chair to the floor with considerable agility, and then began working his way around the room with a small basket from which he somehow produced a rabbit for each member of the class.
“Did anyone not get a rabbit?” he asked once he had finished. When no one responded, he smiled, nodded to himself, and said, “Very well; you may begin.”
Harry took a deep breath, aimed his wand at the rabbit on his desk, and said, “Moreproba,” while making a small circle in the air with his wand tip and jabbing it lightly toward the animal. The rabbit blinked at him, but certainly didn’t appear to be dead. He sighed, realizing that no spell that was above N.E.W.T. level was going to be easy.
“Moreproba,” Harry tried again, still with no effect. He glanced around the room and noted with a bit of relief that none of his classmates were having any more success than he was.
Halfway through the class period, the room was suddenly silenced by Professor Flitwick loudly clearing his throat. Harry looked up to see the professor once again perched on top of his desk.
“Now that you have a bit of a feel for the level of difficulty of this spell, I believe a demonstration might be helpful,” Flitwick squeaked. He placed a rabbit next to him on the desk (Harry noticed with amusement that the crouched animal came up past the professor’s knees), and cast the False Death Charm on it.
“Moreproba!” A bolt of red light erupted from the tiny professor’s wand, and the rabbit toppled over. An involuntary shudder passed through the room as some of the students began murmuring uneasily.
“If I hadn’t heard the incantation and seen that the light was red, I’d have sworn he’d actually cast the Killing Curse,” Ginny whispered just barely loud enough for Harry to hear her. He shuddered as he nodded his head in agreement.
“As you can see,” Flitwick continued, drawing the class’s attention away from their hushed conversations, “the rabbit appears to be dead. However... Alacrita!” He used the same wand motion he had used for Moreproba, but in reverse. This time, the bolt of light was blue, and the rabbit perked up immediately. Flitwick clapped his hands rather loudly, and the animal took a startled hop off of the desk and onto the floor.
“That’s pretty impressive,” Harry muttered. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ginny nodding her agreement as Professor Flitwick instructed the class to go back to practicing the spell. Infuriatingly, by the end of the lesson the closest anyone had gotten to making the charm work had been when an overly enthusiastic Colin Creevey had accidentally poked his rabbit in the eye with his wand. In his typical fashion, however, Professor Flitwick did not seem the least bit concerned, and simply assigned a short essay before dismissing them.
Harry’s week seemed to be progressing normally until the next day after lunch, when Professor Moody stomped into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom with a murderous expression on his scarred face. His magical eye was spinning nauseatingly fast as he hurriedly surveyed the room with his normal eye before limping quickly past the rows of students. As he passed Colin Creevey’s desk, he suddenly grabbed the small boy by the shoulder, yanking him to his feet and dragging him to the front of the room.
“Watch closely!” Moody barked as he shoved Colin into the blackboard and pressed the tip of his wand into the boy’s throat.
Harry shot to his feet, drawing his wand and shouting, “Expelliarmus!” At the same moment, Moody whispered a spell and Colin collapsed to the floor with a look of terrified shock frozen on his face just before the professor’s wand flew from his grasp. Images of Cedric Diggory’s lifeless eyes flashed in Harry’s mind, but he determinedly forced them away; there wasn’t time to focus on that just now.
“Impressive, Potter,” Moody growled as he slowly turned around to face him. “I suppose I should’ve known that you wouldn’t just sit there in shock like the rest of these.” Harry chanced a quick glance around the room only to see looks of stunned horror on every one of his classmates’ faces. As his eyes passed over Ginny, she shook herself and then shot to her feet, drawing her wand and training it on the professor in one fluid motion. When he glanced at Zacharias Smith, he did the same.
“I should kill you now,” Harry growled as he refocused his attention on the professor.
“Wait!” Ginny exclaimed. Her eyes narrowed as she glared menacingly at Moody. “I want to know who you really are. Last time, it was Crouch. Who is it this time? And why-?” Her voice faltered for just a moment. “Why Colin?” she ground out.
Moody’s face twisted into the closest thing to a smile it could manage. “Simple,” he answered brusquely. “He’s small and easy to manhandle, and he’s far too trusting for his own good. Now if you three will just let me retrieve my wand, I can wake him up and get on with the lesson.”
Harry let out a hollow laugh. “Wake him up? I don’t think so, Professor.” He put an exaggerated amount of stress on the word, contempt practically dripping from his lips as he spoke. “A wise wizard once told me that no spell can reawaken the dead. As you’re about to learn firsthand.” He extended his wand more forcefully in the aged ex-Auror’s direction.
“You’re so bloody sure he’s dead, are you?” barked Moody, completely ignoring Harry’s threat. “Did you hear me say, ‘Avada Kedavra?’ Did you see a flash of green light? Hear a sound like rushing wind? Did you? Didn’t think so.”
“Then what-?” Harry stopped himself. “The False Death Charm?” he inquired quietly.
“Very good, Potter. Now let me get my wand so we can get on with this lesson. I haven’t got all day!”
Harry licked his lips uncertainly before giving Moody a curt nod. “But don’t forget our wands are on you.” In addition, he readied himself to cast a Shield Charm with his left hand if necessary as the professor stumped over to where his wand had fallen. He bent down very slowly to pick it up, and immediately pointed it toward Colin’s prone form. Harry’s eyes flicked involuntarily to his friend’s body, and he shuddered at the sight of his lifeless eyes, still open wide in terrified shock.
“Alacrita!” Moody bellowed. A bolt of blue light shot from his wand, hitting Colin in the chest. Immediately, Colin sat up, looking around dazedly. It only took him a moment to see Harry, Ginny, and Zacharias with their wands trained on Moody. In the next moment, his wand was out and pointing at the professor as well.
“All right, Colin?” Harry asked warily.
“Yeah,” Colin muttered, rubbing the back of his head where it had hit the floor. “What happened?”
Harry slowly lowered his wand and returned it to his pocket. “Professor Moody demonstrated the False Death Charm on you,” he replied as he slid into his seat. A moment later, Ginny dropped into the seat next to him with a relieved look on her face, while Zacharias nodded curtly at Harry and sat back down as well.
“Oh,” Colin said as he began lowering his wand. “So you all thought I was dead?” A slow smile began spreading over his face. “Wicked! Wait ‘til Dennis hears about this!” he exclaimed happily as he hurried back to his seat. Harry rolled his eyes and chuckled with relief, and was surprised to hear gruff laughter coming from the front of the room.
“Your enthusiasm is greatly appreciated, Mr. Creevey,” Moody growled, his face once again twisted into something that vaguely resembled a grin. After clearing his throat, he addressed the entire class. “Mr. Potter is correct, for those of you who might still be doubting. What you have just seen is a demonstration of the False Death Charm or, as it’s called by those of us who know its more sinister applications, the False Death Curse.”
The class sat in silence, their attention riveted on the grizzled ex-Auror’s words as he continued in an almost haunted voice, “There are few things in life worse than watching someone you care about die, while you can do nothing to stop it. That is the first application of the False Death Curse to the Dark Arts.”
Moody shook himself and looked around the room for a moment before his eyes came to rest on Ginny. “Miss Weasley,” he began slowly, “you have a rather large family that is well-known for its involvement in the fight against the Death Eaters, correct?”
Ginny swallowed hard, but kept her face impassive as she nodded. Harry’s hand sought hers under their shared desk, and he gave it a little squeeze for support. He had a sinking feeling that the Weasley family was about to become Professor Moody’s next example.
“And what would happen to your parents if you were all captured and they were forced to watch as, one by one, each of their children died before their eyes?”
Bile rose in Harry’s throat, and for a moment he considered cursing the man then and there for even suggesting such a thing. Somehow he managed to master the impulse and simply kept a reassuring pressure on Ginny’s hand as her grip tightened.
“Well, obviously I don’t know,” Ginny answered in a voice that did nothing to betray the fact that she had Harry’s hand locked in a death-grip beneath the desk. “But if I had to hazard a guess, I imagine they’d both prefer the Cruciatus Curse.”
Moody nodded gravely at her as he said, “I know both of your parents, and I’d say that’s probably accurate. But what if the Death Eaters weren’t able to capture the rest of the family, but did manage to steal say, a hairbrush?”
Ginny was silent for a moment, and Harry found himself raising his free hand, if for no other reason than to save her the necessity of answering. When Moody gave him a nod, he cleared his throat nervously.
“They could use the hairs that were stuck in the brush to brew Polyjuice Potion. Then one of their own supporters could pose as the person they failed to capture and they could put on a show like what you did with Colin a few minutes ago.”
“Exactly,” Moody growled. “That is the first reason you need to know how to recognize and counter the False Death Curse. Its second application to the Dark Arts may be even more sinister, if you can believe that.” His eyes swept across the classroom before he asked, “Do any of you know what happens when a witch or wizard dies?”
Demelza Robins raised a tentative hand, which was acknowledged by Moody’s curt nod. Her voice had a slight rasp to it as she answered, “They have a choice to either move on or become a ghost.”
“Precisely,” Moody responded. “But what if that person never has the chance to fully die? It has been estimated that about one person every century is buried alive by grieving relatives while under the False Death Curse. Few are ever discovered.”
Harry felt his insides go cold at the very thought of being buried alive. Of course, someone in that position would be completely unaware of what was going on, but still... the idea of being essentially dead but unable to die was chilling - nearly as bad as suffering a Dementor’s Kiss.
“The False Death Curse’s third application to the Dark Arts is as a means of indirect torture,” Moody continued. “Have any of you ever heard of an ancient Chinese wizard named Ranka?” No one moved to answer. “What about a Jewish wizard known as Honi the Circle-drawer? German wizards by the names of Peter Klaus and Karl Katz?” Still no response from the class. “What about an American wizard called Rip Van Winkle?” One or two hands moved tentatively into the air, but it was painfully obvious that no one really knew what Moody was talking about.
Professor Moody sighed heavily and ran a hand through his grizzled gray hair in frustration. “What the devil does Binns teach you lot, anyway?”
“No one knows,” Colin called out. “Nobody’s ever been able to stay awake for an entire lesson.” The class fell into nervous laughter as Moody smiled - or maybe it was a grimace; it was hard to tell - and shook his head.
“All of the wizards I mentioned managed to run afoul of somebody they ought not to have messed around with and ended up being placed under the False Death Curse, only to be reawakened years later. Some of them, like Katz, were lucky enough to wake up after only a few years, and their enemies’ plans were foiled, but others... others woke up only after their entire world had changed. Everyone they had ever known or cared for was long dead, and they lost the will to live themselves.
“This is also a tactic that Dark wizards will sometimes use when they can’t, for whatever reason, kill someone they want out of their way permanently. Maybe they were forced to swear with an Unbreakable Vow that they wouldn’t kill that particular person, or maybe they just feel squeamish about doing it outright - that happens a lot when purebloods end up fighting their own family members but don’t want to kill one another because they don’t want to risk ending the bloodline. Instead, they put their adversary to sleep for a hundred years or so as a way of ensuring that the family name won’t entirely die out.”
Much of Moody’s explanation was going over Harry’s head by now, but there was one very important thing he now knew: he would not, under any circumstances, allow that curse to be used on him.
After a short pause, Professor Moody produced the body of a rabbit from one of his desk drawers and laid its stiff form gently on top of the desk.
“Professor Flitwick was kind enough to loan me one of his rabbits,” he said. “This one has been under the False Death Charm for a full week.” Several students blanched at this statement, but the ex-Auror paid them no mind. “I want you all to come forward now and touch it to see just how convincing the illusion of death can be. Come on, now!”
Harry glanced around hesitantly, only to see that the rest of the class was doing the same. Taking a deep breath, he got to his feet and, tightly gripping Ginny’s hand, approached the professor’s desk along with the other students. He could hear quiet sounds of disgust coming from a couple of people as they touched the stiff rabbit, and it sounded like Colin Creevey actually stifled a little shriek after laying his hand on its chest for nearly thirty seconds.
When it was Harry’s turn, he released Ginny’s hand and reached tentatively toward the rabbit’s body. Its fur felt normal, so he allowed himself to move his fingers around a bit. When he came in contact with the rabbit’s skin, he jerked his hand back in surprise.
“It’s cold,” he whispered before moving aside to allow Ginny her turn. She began lightly stroking the rabbit’s fur with such confidence that Harry thought she was totally unaffected until he noticed her tiny shudder as she walked back to her seat. Immediately upon sitting down, her hand sought his and they clung tightly to one another.
Their reaction didn’t make sense, really. After all, it was only a rabbit, and the charm it was under was temporary. Then again, Harry reminded himself, Moody might just be morbid enough to make them touch a rabbit that was really dead before producing the one that was only in suspended animation. It was hard to tell with him.
“Who can tell me something that makes this rabbit appear to be dead?” Moody called out as soon as all of the students had returned to their seats. After a moment, he nodded toward someone to Harry’s left.
“It’s stiff,” answered Zacharias Smith in a voice that was hovering somewhere between boredom and disgust.
“Very good,” Professor Moody growled. “What else? Creevey?”
“Its heart wasn’t beating,” Colin replied quickly. The complete lack of enthusiasm in his voice caused a small shiver to run down Harry’s spine.
“It wasn’t breathing, either,” added Demelza Robins.
“And it was cold,” Harry murmured just barely loud enough to be heard.
“Very good,” Moody muttered. “In fact, the only noticeable difference between this rabbit and one that has actually been dead for a week is the fact that this one’s body shows no signs of decomposition. Now, watch closely. Alacrita!” A bolt of blue light burst from the tip of Moody’s wand, hitting the rabbit squarely in the chest. The rabbit immediately opened its eyes and twisted around into a standing position. Then it sat, its nose quivering slightly, in the middle of the desk.
“I’m sure you’ve all realized by now that it’s impossible to tell just by looking or feeling for a pulse whether or not a person is really dead,” the ex-Auror added after a moment. “The only real way to tell is to try reviving them. So that’s what we’re going to be learning.”
Moody picked up a small sack that had been sitting behind his desk and directed its contents to the students’ desks with a casual wave of his wand. In seconds, a seemingly-dead mouse was in the center of each desk.
“Take turns trying to revive your mouse,” Moody instructed. “Try and help each other see any problems with the wand movement. Get to it.” No more encouragement was needed, and the classroom burst into activity as wands were drawn and partners began taking turns casting the spell at their mice. By the end of the lesson, nobody had made any progress, but that didn’t surprise anyone anymore. For homework, Moody told them to write a foot-long essay about one of the victims of the False Death Curse that had been mentioned in class.
As he stowed his books and took Ginny by the hand on the way out of the classroom, Harry felt the reality of the war with Lord Voldemort beginning to close in on him. Students were learning spells that were years beyond what they would normally be taught because they had to be able to defend themselves and others. He sighed quietly as he glanced sideways at Ginny and felt a bit of the hope she always gave him rise in his chest. She had been right when she’d said that the prophecy was a good thing; it meant he could end all of this. He had the power to defeat Lord Voldemort. And there was no way he was going to allow himself to fail.
A/N: Just in case you want to know, Moreproba is a combination of the Latin words mors (“death”) and reproba (“false”). Alacrita is Latin for “Animate.” If I’m wrong about that, I blame it on the online Latin translator.
For those of you who are interested, I recently received a message from our long lost friends, Lena and Tom. They wanted to let everybody know that they’ve had quite a few problems with their computer and Internet, and their work load has gotten much bigger so they won’t be returning to fanfiction or online life or a social life at all for a while. Tom is all better with no casts or anything. Lena is still wearing her promise ring, and she has taken Toby’s cage out of her room. They also want me to say hi to everyone, and that they apologize for not coming back.