"Potter! Damn it, boy, let me talk to you!"
Harry felt his shoulders come up around his ears when he heard Professor Moody's voice and heard the clunking of his wooden leg, but he just kept walking. The name "Potter" had nothing to do with him anymore, after all.
Well, except in conversations with Healer Letham. And it wasn't like Moody was invited to those.
But years of living in the Dursley household had given Harry the useful skill of knowing when a man larger than he was was reaching for him, and he ducked and spun around, aiming his wand at Moody. Moody blinked at him with his real eye, while the magical one zoomed to the front of his face to point directly at Harry.
"Don't touch me," Harry said, struggling to keep the words from slipping into Parseltongue.
Moody visibly wavered between reactions for a moment, and then decided to go for amusement. He threw his head back and roared. Harry didn't rise from his defensive crouch, thinking distantly that Ted would be proud of him.
In fact, he was supposed to be on his way to Defense tutoring right now. At least if this took too long, Ted would come looking for him, and if Moody tried something worse than touching him, the bell on the charm embedded in Harry's skin would ring. Ted had the corresponding charm, so he would know to come right away.
"I like you, boy," Moody said, and winked his magical eye at Harry, which made him jump a little. It fizzed and seemed about to disappear from existence for a second, like the cord on Tonks's shield charm before she embedded it. "And I think you can benefit from the tutoring I can offer you."
"I already have a Defense tutor I like, thank you."
"Oh, no, not Defense. Curses. Countercurses." Moody's tongue flickered over his lips for a second, and then he leaned nearer and whispered, "Dark Arts."
Harry stared at him, wondering for a second if his parents had put Moody up to this. But then he dismissed the notion. No. They might have liked it better if Harry had agreed to learn Dark Arts, but they wouldn't have relied on someone who was known to have such a strong connection to Dumbledore.
"I don't want to learn anything from you."
Moody blinked hard, staring at Harry with both eyes as if he had never thought that could be the reason. Then he shook his head and waved a hand in front of him. "Wouldn't try to hurt you, lad."
"I don't care. I'm not going with you." Harry took a step back, both worried and happy that the bell on his charm hadn't begun to ring yet. Moody must not be a threat. And that was a good thing, because Harry didn't think he could have dueled an experienced Auror.
Moody rolled his eyes. "Fine. Then you'll let my hints for the Third Task pass you by?"
"I'm not trying to do well in the Tournament," Harry said, exasperated. Had there been some kind of potion in people's drinks on Halloween that made them think he wanted to? "I'll just show up for it and do something small the way I did for the others. Is that clear?" he added, raising his voice in case there were more people than Moody around and they needed to hear it. "Or should I say it louder for the morons in the back?"
Moody blinked at him for long moments. Then he shook his head, muttered something that sounded like, "Not going to work," and turned and stumped away.
Harry stood rigidly for a few more moments. Then he turned and went to his Defense lesson, his wand still in his hand.
No one tried to attack him, though. And the charm in his back never rang.
....
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