What Are You Looking At?

"Now, you are a rooster... you are a rooster..."

"Alright, that's enough for now..."

Ron heard a faint voice coming from a distant corner, and stopped craning his neck and swinging his arms.

The sounds in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom gradually became clearer, with the young wizards whispering among themselves and a few taunts... Ron slowly recalled what had happened in the past few minutes, his breathing quickened, his face flushed, and a strong sense of shame welled up inside him.

I was just imitating a rooster crowing!

Imitate crowing in front of the whole class!

Ron's memories kept coming back.

Because the Burrow kept several roosters, Ron often fed, he had carefully observed their movements. Those observations came in handy just now; his crowing was so lifelike that he was considered an outstanding performer among the many young wizards studying animals.

That despicable Professor Moody!

Why a rooster of all!

Numerous memories flooded his mind, the images of the crowing replaying endlessly. Just recalling them made Ron's face burn, and he wished he could jump out of the window immediately.

Not daring to look into his friends' eyes, and even less daring to look at the expressions on Seamus and Dean's faces, Ron walked over and squatted down next to Lavender Brown, who was just imitating a squirrel gnawing on a pine cone.

"Ron ... Ron ..."

Hearing the hushed call, Ron looked up.

Lavender Brown blushed and whispered, "Your rooster imitation was very cool, and your crowing was very loud."

"..."

Ron looked down at his shoes, his toes tucked inside, gripping the soles and scratching incessantly.

"Potter!"

Moody's voice boomed, "It's your turn."

Harry, who had mentally prepared himself for half a class period, let out a breath, smiled at Loren and Hermione, who were even more nervous than him, and stepped forward. "I'm ready, Professor."

"Good lad..." Moody said gruffly, waving his wand and tapping it at Harry, "[Soul Possession]"

Harry had the same dazed look on his face as the students before him. His expression was relaxed, with a slight smile, and his eyes gradually went blank, as if he was lost in thought, remembering something happy.

Moody casually gave the order, "Jump onto the table, Potter, jump onto the table."

Loren and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. They had thought Professor Moody would do something unexpected, but he did nothing. It seemed he still intended to be a competent professor.

Harry stared blankly at the table in front of him for a long while, then obediently bent his knees, ready to jump.

Moody's eyes held a contemptuous smile. What a famous the Chosen One, what the Boy Who Lived, he was just like any other ordinary little wizard.

After a slightly lengthy preparation, Harry jumped—

But he only jumped halfway. He abruptly stopped his jump in mid-air, seemingly trying to stop himself from jumping at the same time. As a result, he crashed headfirst into a table, knocking it over. His knees hit the floor, and bright red blood seeped from his trousers.

Moody sat bolt upright on his stool, his eyes wide with surprise. "Look at you all... Harry held on! He held on, he almost beat it!"

"Let's try one more time, Potter. The rest of you, watch closely. Look him in the eyes, that's the key..."

"Very good, Potter, very good!"

"They won't be able to control you easily!"

For the next hour, Moody seemed to forget about the students behind him and kept working on Harry, insisting that Harry test him four or five times in a row until Harry was able to completely get rid of the spell. By then, Harry's leg was more limp Moody's.

As the bell rang, Ron helped the limping Harry out of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, muttering to himself, "Judging from the tone of his voice, anyone who didn't know better would think we were about to be attacked."

"We all know Harry's identity, and it's always good to be cautious with him." Loren looked at Ron's feet, which still twitched a bit like a rooster's gait, indicating that the effects of the Imperius Curse hadn't completely faded.

Hermione glanced back at the classroom, and after confirming that the location was out of Moody's hearing range, she whispered in agreement, "At least from the perspective of the Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, he is very competent."

Yes, that's right.

Harry agreed, saying that as the first person to successfully resist the Imperius Curse, he felt it was worth it, even though he paid the price of a broken knee.

What classes are there tomorrow?

"Charms, A History of Magic, Potions Master."

"I really wish we could skip straight to the weekend..."

Before we knew it, the new school year had begun.

September 18, Sunday, cloudy.

Loren didn't return to the Common Room until 3 p. m.

Loren sat down in his usual spot by the window and peeked out. Hermione was writing the paper Professor Binns had assigned, which required a three-foot length. Hermione's first sub-argument was already three feet long.

Yes, there is plenty of content to learn from.

Harry, who was scratching his head while looking at his Potions Master textbook, looked up and his eyes lit up. "Loren, where did you go just now?"

During the last Potions class, Professor Snape hinted that he would poison one of them before Christmas, and whether or not the antidote would work depended on whether it was effective.

After returning from practicing Occlumency with Snape yesterday, Harry thought about it for a long time and was convinced that he was poisoned and desperately needed his friends' help.

"I went to find Hagrid."

"What do you want with Hagrid?"

"Deliver lambs."

"Lamb?"

"..."

Hermione stopped writing with her quill pen after an hour of continuous writing, looked up at Loren with bright eyes and a slight smile on her lips.

"What are you looking at?" Loren said fiercely, reaching out to grab the little Witch's head and ruffling it, making her messy hair even more frizzy.

Hermione wasn't annoyed at all; instead, she snuggled against him and continued writing her paper, seemingly in a good mood.

Harry silently looked away.

"Has the antidote been developed yet?"

"Not yet..."

"Don't worry too much, it won't kill you anyway."

"Well..."

Loren glanced at Ron next to him, who was focused on his Transfiguration, looking serious and focused, except that Harry's homework paper next to him was rather conspicuous.

"It's all your fault! I haven't finished my homework yet." Loren grabbed a strand of Hermione's hair and gently twisted it. "You're punished to do my homework for me!"

"OK."

"..."

Loren thought about it and decided against it. Hermione's handwriting was quite different from his, and Professor McGonagall wasn't old enough to fool Dumbledore.

So he sat down and prepared to finish his homework.

Herbology, Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, and Defense Against the Dark Arts didn't have much written homework, but Professor Flitwick did assign reading assignments: three books on Summoning Charm, which Loren had already read.

The last thing left was the Transfiguration homework, because only five students in the class could transform the hedgehog into a satisfactory pincushion, and Professor McGonagall had assigned a bit too much Transfiguration homework.

This is very unfair. He is clearly one of those five people, but he still has to do homework.

Professor McGonagall is inflexible.