0477 The Unforgivables (Part-2) *Large Chapter*

He abruptly paused in his explanation; his attention drawn to a raised hand in the sea of attentive faces. “Yes, Miss Abbott?”

Hannah Abbott lowered her hand. She flicked her braids behind her shoulders in a nervous gesture before speaking, her voice quavering slightly.

“You told us earlier not to fear these curses too much,” she began, her words coming out in a rush. “I mean, the Unforgivable Curses. But what you’re telling us now… it seems to confirm that we can’t resist them at all. How are we supposed to not be afraid?”

Beside Hannah, Ernie Macmillan nodded vigorously in agreement. However, when Professor Watson’s penetrating gaze fell upon them, Ernie quickly ducked his head, as if trying to distance himself from the question.

“If I were to use Transfiguration to turn your bag into a knife right now and slash your throat with it, do you think you could resist that, Miss Abbott?” Bryan asked, his tone disturbingly calm given the violent scenario he had just described.

“Of course not!” Hannah shuddered as if she could feel a cold blade against her neck. She quickly returned to the topic at hand, while Hermione nodded thoughtfully on the other side of the room.

“So, do you understand now?” Bryan continued, his gaze sweeping across the classroom. “Many dark spells and offensive curses, once they make contact with you, leave little room for defense or resistance. There’s no chance of healing or struggle. From that perspective, the Imperius and Cruciatus Curses, as horrible as they are, at least don’t result in immediate death. In fact, even after being struck by these curses, there remains a possibility, however slim, of recovery and healing—”

As these words left his lips, Bryan, who had been keenly observing the class, immediately noticed a change in Neville’s demeanor. The boy’s face, already pale, seemed to drain of what little color remained.

“Do you have a question, Mr. Longbottom?”

When faced with this question, Neville’s gaze became evasive. He didn’t dare look directly at Professor Watson, instead lowered his head to stare at the open “Guide to Defense Against the Dark Arts” on his desk, stammering.

“Neville—” Hermione reminded him anxiously, “Professor Watson is speaking to you!”

Despite Hermione’s reminder being loud enough for most of the class to hear, Neville seemed oblivious to it. His fists were clenched so tightly under the desk that his knuckles had turned white, and his entire body trembled slightly, as if he was fighting some internal battle.

Harry, momentarily distracted from his own anticipation about learning about the last of the three Unforgivable Curses, looked at Neville in bewilderment. He couldn’t understand what had triggered such a strong reaction in the usually quiet Neville.

“Perhaps—” As Bryan began to speak, Moody, who had been inconspicuous on the platform, suddenly spoke up. He said thoughtfully, “Mr. Longbottom wants to know if there’s a possibility of healing for wizards who have suffered damage from the Cruciatus Curse Isn’t that right, Longbottom?”

Neville’s head shot up, staring at Professor Moody in horror, only to receive a meaningful smile in return.

“I see—” Bryan nodded thoughtfully, his eyes growing deep with understanding as he observed the unfolding scene. In that moment, a piece of the puzzle clicked into place in his mind. Neville’s relatives most probably had suffered torture from the Cruciatus Curse and had not yet recovered.

Looking at Neville, whose face had now turned as pale as freshly fallen snow, Bryan’s eyes grew deep.

“Well, it depends on the situation—” After pondering for a few seconds, Bryan calmly said,”The extent of the damage is a crucial factor. If the caster’s magical power was mediocre and their malicious intent wasn’t particularly strong – meaning the power of the Cruciatus Curse wasn’t at its full potential – St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries has developed several treatment protocols. These methods can help victims gradually recover, often leading to a full restoration of health.”

The class listened in rapt attention, but it was clear to everyone that this generalized answer wasn’t what Neville was desperately seeking to know.

Moody, his magical eye now fixed unwaveringly on Neville, pressed further.

“What about those who have suffered from an extremely powerful Cruciatus Curse?” he asked, his scarred face set in a grim expression. As he spoke, he glanced briefly at Hermione, acknowledging the young witch who had been the first to notice Neville’s distress during the earlier demonstration and had stood up to prevent him from experimenting with the curse on the spider.

Bryan’s expression grew more serious as he considered the question. “That’s a far more complex scenario,” he said, his gaze shifting from Neville to address the entire class. “As I explained earlier, the Cruciatus Curse attacks a creature’s psyche at its very core. An overly powerful Cruciatus Curse can shatter a person’s entire mental world, causing them to lose their grip on reality and, in the most severe cases, their sanity. If someone were to encounter such a traumatic situation—”

He suddenly fell silent, the weight of his unfinished sentence hanging heavily in the air. The class held its collective breath, waiting for him to continue. After a long silence, Bryan spoke again, his voice tinged with a hint of regret.

“I apologize, everyone. I must admit that I haven’t delved as deeply into this particular issue. As a result, I’m not in a position to provide specific solutions or treatment options for such severe cases.”

The disappointment in the room was palpable, especially from Neville, whose brief flicker of hope seemed to dim considerably at these words.

Moody’s magical eye spun wildly in its socket, finally targeting the dejected Neville. He asked gruffly, “It’s not absolutely impossible to achieve full recovery, is it, Professor Watson?”

“There might be some way, but specific situations need to be discussed individually. You see, this type of magical damage is quite unique—”

Bryan’s words were tactful, but everyone could tell that he believed there was some but little hope for those whose mental worlds had been shattered by the Cruciatus Curse.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Bryan spoke faster, “Lastly, let’s discuss the Killing curse. What do you think—”

“It attacks our souls, doesn’t it?” Harry interrupted, his face ashen as he recalled the green flash that had appeared in his moments of confusion, the screaming woman, and the cruel laughter. Ignoring his classmates’ strange looks, Harry asked urgently, “The Killing curse attacks a wizard’s soul, so… so—”

Harry wracked his brains trying to express his thoughts.

“If someone is hit by the curse, is there any way—”

“You’ve forgotten Professor Moody’s teaching, Mr. Potter—” Professor Watson’s eyelids flickered slightly, a gleam of light dancing in his pale purple eyes for a moment.

“If hit by the Killing curse, one dies instantly. There’s no possibility of being cured. But I must point out an error in your assumption, Mr. Potter. It doesn’t attack a creature’s soul. It’s a very effective cutting or separation spell. What it targets is, as I mentioned at the beginning, the mysterious connection between the body and the soul. It severs this connection, stripping away your life force, thus bringing about death, Mr. Potter—”

The essence of the Killing Curse, as Bryan had just explained, was to sever the delicate, almost ethereal connection between soul and body. This revelation sent ripples of unease through the classroom. Even Moody standing on the podium looked perplexed, his brow deeply furrowed as he didn’t understand what he heard.

Sensing the confusion and uneasiness in the room, Bryan decided to elaborate further.

“Allow me to explain it more clearly,” Bryan raised both hands, gesturing in front of him.

“Imagine, if you will, a bridge – a structure both tangible and intangible. This bridge represents the mysterious connection that exists between our physical bodies and our incorporeal souls.”

As he spoke, wisps of silvery mist began to emanate from the tip of his wand, coalescing in the air before him to form a shimmering, spectral bridge. The students leaned forward, captivated by the magical illustration.

“The fundamental principle of the Killing Curse,” Bryan continued, his pale purple eyes scanning the room, ensuring he had everyone’s attention, “is to cut this bridge, to sever irreversibly the link between soul and body.”

With a sharp flick of his wand, a bolt of green light – eerily reminiscent of the actual curse – sliced through the misty bridge. The silvery structure shattered, dissipating into nothingness.

“Once struck by the curse, your soul loses its anchor in this world. It’s violently torn away, forced to leave your body and cross over to the other shore – which we know as death.” His voice dropped to barely above a whisper, “This is why it’s said that those hit by the Killing Curse cannot be cured or saved.”

This vivid explanation, coupled with the magical demonstration, drove the point home for most of the young wizards. Understanding dawned on their faces, quickly followed by looks of horror as the full implications sank in.

A heavy silence fell over the classroom, broken only by the sound of quills scratching furiously on parchment as some students, Hermione chief among them, rushed to note down every word.

Bryan noticing the silence that had fallen over his students, attempted to soften the blow. “It’s important to remember,” he said, his tone gentle, “that there are many spells capable of taking lives. Even mundane objects – a well-aimed brick or arrow, for instance – can be just as fatal.”

But his words seemed to fall on deaf ears. The students couldn’t shake off the chilling knowledge of magic so evil, that it could tear apart the essence of a person’s being and severe the connection between one’s soul and body.

Harry sitting at the front of the class, felt a leaden weight settle in his stomach. He knew he shouldn’t have harbored unrealistic expectations, but after understanding Professor Watson’s explanation, he couldn’t help but feel utterly crestfallen.

Professor Watson had made it painfully clear: the Killing Curse was fatal, impossible to defend against, and offered no possibility of cure. There was simply no way to rebuild the connection between body and soul once it had been severed.

Bryan, who had been lingering near Harry’s desk, observed the gloomy expressions of the young wizards around him.

Suddenly, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the oppressive silence like a knife. When he spoke, there was a hint of mischief in his voice,

“I’ve just explained the principle behind this terrible spell,” he said, his eyes twinkling with barely suppressed amusement. “Now, let’s talk about some… shall we say, unconventional methods to counter the Killing Curse.”

The change in his tone was like a splash of cold water on the students’ collective face. Heads snapped up, eyes widened in disbelief and confusion.

“But Professor!” Harry exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. “You just told us the Killing Curse is impossible to resist!”

“Not orthodox methods, Mr. Potter,” Bryan said smiling, his gaze sweeping across the classroom, taking in the bewildered faces of his students. “Just some… underhanded tricks.

Perhaps you’ve already realized the fundamental flaw in the Killing Curse. Yes, this magic, for all its terrible power, cannot cause area-damage or ranged-damage.”

He began to pace slowly in front of the class, his robes swishing softly with each measured step. “In other words, if a dark wizard wanted to kill ten people with this spell, they’d have to wave their wand ten separate times. It’s this very nature – its specificity in targeting the connection between body and soul – that allows us to employ some rather… sneaky methods of defense.”

Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion. The idea of using ‘sneaky methods’ against what was arguably the most dangerous of the three Unforgivable Curses seemed almost laughable. And yet, there was something in Professor Watson’s demeanor, a confidence bordering on smugness, that made Harry lean forward in anticipation.

“Do you have any more of those little darlings you used to demonstrate the spell, Professor Moody?” Suddenly, Bryan turned to face the podium where Moody stood. “I believe I need to conduct a small demonstration of my own.”

“By all means, Professor Watson. Let’s see your clever idea!”

With a grunt, Moody pulled open a drawer in the podium. The spiders he had used earlier for his grim demonstration were apparently gone. Instead, he produced a glass bottle filled with dozens of wriggling earthworms.

“Thank you, that’s exactly what I need,” Bryan said with a slight nod of appreciation and a wand sprung from his sleeve.

The sight of the bottle and the sudden appearance of the wand sent a ripple of alarm through the classroom. There was a cacophony of scraping chairs and shuffling feet as the terrified young wizards around Professor Watson unanimously pushed their benches back, scrambling to put as much distance between themselves and whatever was about to happen as possible.

Only Harry remained in place, his curiosity overwhelming his instinct for self-preservation. He leaned forward eagerly, green eyes wide with anticipation, wondering what Professor Watson could possibly have in mind.

With a loud ‘Bang!’ that made several students jump, Bryan flicked his wand. The wooden cork of the glass bottle shot off to one side, narrowly missing Neville’s ear and eliciting a startled yelp from the boy.

Then, as if pulled by invisible strings, the wriggling earthworms began to float out of the bottle. They hung suspended in mid-air, twisting helplessly, their segmented bodies glistening under the classroom’s magical lighting.

“Next is—” Bryan’s voice trailed off as he focused intently on the brown, tangled mass of worms. His wand moved in a complex pattern, too fast for the students’ eyes to follow. Suddenly, with two strange, high-pitched squeaks that set everyone’s teeth on edge, the number of worms exploded, increasing by dozens of times in the blink of an eye!

The reaction from the class was instantaneous and varied. Lavender let out a short, sharp scream that echoed off the stone walls. If it hadn’t been for Parvati’s quick reflexes, Lavender might have toppled right off her chair in her haste to get away from the squirming mass. As it was, she huddled in Parvati’s arms, covering her eyes with both hands and trembling uncontrollably.

Ron who had been immensely relieved that Moody hadn’t brought out spiders this time, couldn’t help but find Lavender’s extreme reaction somewhat amusing. A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, though he tried to hide it behind his hand, not wanting to seem insensitive.

Even Harry, for all his eagerness to see what Professor Watson had planned, couldn’t help but lean back slightly. The large mass of wriggling earthworms was undeniably disgusting.

“—The key!” Bryan’s voice cut through the mix of horrified gasps and nervous giggles. With another flick of his wrist, the six or seven-inch-long earthworms were abruptly separated. They began to rearrange themselves in mid-air, twisting and turning as if guided by an invisible hand. Gradually, to the astonishment of the entire class, they began to form the unmistakable shape of a garment!

A collective “Ugh!” rose from the students, with Hermione’s gasp of realization rising above the rest. She covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes wide with a mixture of disgust and admiration. It was clear from her expression that she had already figured out Professor Watson’s idea as had Moody on the podium.

“Aha!” Moody exclaimed; his gruff voice filled with appreciation. “What a cunning method, Bryan! Truly ingenious!”

Harry’s head whipped around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. “What?!” he blurted out, his gaze darting between Hermione and the floating, worm-shaped garment. “What’s going on?”

Hermione, her voice muffled behind her hands, pointed at the worms and whispered, “Clothes, Harry! He’s suggesting making clothes with earthworms!”

“It doesn’t necessarily have to be earthworms, Miss Granger,” Bryan chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement at the mix of horror and fascination on his students’ faces. “Any small creatures will do, really. As long as there are enough of them packed densely together, they can effectively help you block a Killing Curse.”

As understanding dawned across the room, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. The initial disgust gave way to excitement as the brilliance of the idea sank in. Who would have thought there was such an unconventional way to resist an Unforgivable Curse?!

According to Professor Watson’s earlier explanation, the Killing Curse targeted the connection between a creature’s body and soul. This damage was indiscriminate – it would affect whatever living thing it hit first. So, if one were to wear a specially made protective suit and mask filled with these small creatures, wouldn’t the Killing Curse be completely nullified? After all, even the most powerful Killing Curse couldn’t extinguish multiple lives at once!

The classroom suddenly erupted into a cacophony of excited chatter. Students who moments ago had been pale with fear were now vigorously discussing the possibilities. Even those who lacked a direct understanding of this magic’s former dominance couldn’t help but be impressed by Professor Watson’s ingenious idea.

Of course, there were also dissenting voices amidst the excitement.

“I’d rather die from an Unforgivable Curse than hang hundreds of earthworms on my body!” Lavender exclaimed, her face a mask of horror. She was still clinging to Parvati, struggling to breathe at the mere thought of being covered in wriggling worms. “Oh, it’s too disgusting! I think I’m going to be sick!”

Sensing that the excitement was reaching a fever pitch, Bryan decided it was time to temper their enthusiasm with a dose of reality. “I must remind you of one crucial thing,” he said, his voice cutting through the chatter and immediately gaining attention. The students fell silent, their eyes fixed on him with rapt attention.

“As I said earlier,” he continued, his tone serious, “this method is just a trick. A clever one, certainly, but still just a trick. It can help you avoid an ambush or a fatal mistake in a face-to-face duel, but after that initial surprise, it won’t be of much use anymore.”

He paused, letting his words sink in before explaining further. “Your opponent, assuming they’re not a complete fool, will quickly figure out what you’ve done. With just a few simple spells, they can easily ruin your improvised defense. So, don’t make the mistake of thinking you can win a life-or-death duel by relying solely on clever tricks.”

His gaze swept across the room, meeting each student’s eyes in turn. “To truly defend yourself against dark magic, you must be steady and methodical. Learn your theory, hone your practical skills, and above all else, always remain vigilant.”

As he finished speaking, Bryan’s eyes flickered to the clock hanging on the wall. “We have five minutes left before the end of class,” he announced. “Now, let’s start summarizing what we’ve learned today.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, adopting a more professorial stance. “There’s an important question I want you all to consider: We’ve discussed the Imperius Curse, the Cruciatus Curse, and the Killing Curse. I’ve encouraged you not to fear these too much, because the truth is, there are countless decent spells that can take lives or leave the cursed in a state worse than death.

So, why does the Ministry of Magic forbid the use of these three curses specifically? Why are they singled out as ‘Unforgivable’ spells?”

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