CHAPTER FOURTEEN corridors — he had the distinct impression that Snape was avoid- ing Moody’s eye, whether magical or normal. “I reckon Snape’s a bit scared of him, you know,” Harry said thoughtfully. “Imagine if Moody turned Snape into a horned toad,” said Ron, his eyes misting over, “and bounced him all around his dungeon. . . .” The Gryffindor fourth years were looking forward to Moody’s first lesson so much that they arrived early on Thursday lunchtime and queued up outside his classroom before the bell had even rung. The only person missing was Hermione, who turned up just in time for the lesson. “Been in the —” “Library.” Harry finished her sentence for her. “C’mon, quick, or we won’t get decent seats.” They hurried into three chairs right in front of the teacher’s desk, took out their copies of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self- Protection, and waited, unusually quiet. Soon they heard Moody’s distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room, looking as strange and frightening as ever. They could just see his clawed, wooden foot protruding from under- neath his robes. “You can put those away,” he growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting down, “those books. You won’t need them.” They returned the books to their bags, Ron looking excited. Moody took out a register, shook his long mane of grizzled gray hair out of his twisted and scarred face, and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his mag- ical eye swiveled around, fixing upon each student as he or she answered. ‘ 210 ‘