Through the gates, flanked with statues of winged boars, and up the sweeping drive the carriages trundled, swaying dangerously in what was fast becoming a gale. Leaning against the window, Delilah watched the rain blast down on the carriages as Hogwarts came nearer. Lightning flashed across the sky as their carriage came to a halt before the great oak front doors, which stood at the top of a flight of stone steps. People who had occupied the carriages in front were already hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. Delilah, George, Lee, and Fred hopped out and dashed up the stairs, slipping through the crowd into the cavernous, torch-lit entrance hall, with its magnificent marble staircase.
"If this keeps up the lake's going to overflow!" Fred exclaimed.
"At least Peeves is having fun," George commented, pointing up at the floating man.
Peeves the Poltergeist was a little man in a bell-covered hat and orange bow tie. His wide malicious face was currently contorted with concentration as he threw a large, red, water balloon at someone who looked suspiciously like Ron. He took aim again and Midnight slithered closer to Delilah's neck.
"PEEVES!" yelled an angry voice. "Peeves, come down here at ONCE!"
Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and head of Gryffindor House, had come dashing out of the Great Hall; she skidded on the wet floor, barely grabbing a student to stop herself from falling.
"Peeves, get down here NOW!" barked Professor McGonagall, straightening her pointed hat and glaring upward through her square-rimmed spectacles.
"Not doing nothing!" cackled Peeves, lobbing a water bomb at several fifth-year girls, who screamed and dived into the Great Hall. "Already wet, aren't they? Little squirts! Wheeeeeeeeee!" And he aimed another bomb at a group of second years who had just arrived.
"I shall call the headmaster!" shouted Professor McGonagall. "I'm warning you, Peeves —"
Peeves stuck out his tongue, threw the last of his water bombs into the air, and zoomed off up the marble staircase, cackling insanely.
"Well, move along, then!" said Professor McGonagall sharply to the bedraggled crowd. "Into the Great Hall, come on!"
Delilah, Fred, George, and Lee slipped and slid across the entrance hall and through the double doors.
The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleamed by the light of hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in midair. The four long House tables were packed with chattering students; at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils. It was much warmer in here. Delilah slipped next to Draco.
"Hello, how was your break?" she asked. They hadn't written as often since the World Cup.
"Meh, I'm glad to be back," he said, shooting her a small grin, his eyes evaluating how much she had grown. "You look nice."
Delilah smiled.
"Oh, thanks. You too."
Indeed he did look good. Despite seeing him at the World Cup, she hadn't seen how tall he had gotten or how his face matured.
"Hope they hurry up with the Sorting. I'm starving," Draco said, breaking the silence.
Delilah nodded. "Me too."
The Sorting of the new students into Houses took place at the start of every school year, and the only thing that was really different was the hat's song.
Delilah looked up at the staff table. There seemed to be more empty seats than usual. Hagrid was, of course, still fighting his way across the lake with the first years; Professor McGonagall was presumably supervising the drying of the entrance hall floor, and the Defense Against the Dark Arts chair was empty.
"Where's the new DADA teacher?" Draco asked, noticing it at the same time.
They hadn't yet had a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who had lasted more than three terms. Delilah's favorite by far had been Remus, her godfather, or Professor Lupin as she had known him then. Sadly he resigned last year.
"Maybe they couldn't get anyone and are having a teacher teach two classes, like how Professor Snape teaches," Delilah suggested.
"Maybe...."
Delilah scanned the table more carefully. Tiny little Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was sitting on a large pile of cushions beside Professor Sprout, the Herbology teacher, whose hat was askew over her flyaway gray hair. She was talking to Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department. On Professor Sinistra's other side was the Potions master, Professor Snape. On Snape's other side was an empty seat, most likely Professor McGonagall's. Next to it, and in the very center of the table, sat Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, his sweeping silver hair and beard shining in the candlelight, his deep green robes embroidered with many stars and moons. The tips of Dumbledore's long, thin fingers were together and he was resting his chin upon them, staring up at the ceiling through his half-moon spectacles as though lost in thought.
"Oh hurry up," Draco muttered, beside Delilah, "I swear I could eat a hippogriff."
Before Delilah could tell him that she would pay to see him try, the doors of the Great Hall opened and silence fell. Professor McGonagall was leading a long line of first years up to the top of the Hall. Compared to them, Delilah felt relatively dry. The first years looked as if they had swum across the lake rather than sailed. All of them were shivering with a combination of cold and nerves as they filed along the staff table and came to a halt in a line facing the rest of the school — all of them except the smallest of the lot, a boy with mousy hair, who was wrapped in Hagrid's moleskin overcoat. The coat was so big for him that it looked as though he were draped in a furry black circus tent. His small face protruded from over the collar, looking almost painfully excited.
"Honestly, I swear they are getting smaller each year," Delilah murmured to Draco who let out a small snort.
"Definitely."
Professor McGonagall now placed a three-legged stool on the ground before the first years and, on top of it, an extremely old, dirty, patched wizard's hat. The first years stared at it. So did everyone else. For a moment, there was silence. Then a long tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat broke into song:
A thousand years or more ago,
When I was newly sewn,
There lived four wizards of renown, Whose names are still well known:
Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,
Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,
Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,
Shrewd Slytherin, from fen.
They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,
They hatched a daring plan
To educate young sorcerers
Thus Hogwarts School began.
Now each of these four founders
Formed their own house, for each
Did value different virtues
In the ones they had to teach.
By Gryffindor, the bravest were
Prized far beyond the rest;
For Ravenclaw, the cleverest
Would always be the best;
For Hufflepuff, hard workers were
Most worthy of admission;
And power-hungry Slytherin
Loved those of great ambition.
While still alive they did divide
Their favorites from the throng,
Yet how to pick the worthy ones
When they were dead and gone?
'Twas Gryffindor who found the way,
He whipped me off his head
The founders put some brains in me
So I could choose instead!
Now slip me snug about your ears,
I've never yet been wrong,
I'll have a look inside your mind
And tell where you belong!
"No wonder it's biased," Delilah whispered as she clapped along with everyone else, "it was Gryffindor's hat."
Draco nodded.
"And why apparently all the 'hot', 'good' guys go to Gryffindor," he added.
"Not all of them do," Delilah replied automatically, glancing at Draco as Professor McGonagall started calling out names.
Draco's pale face turned a light shade of pink.
"I guess," he replied, shooting a quick glance at Delilah.
The Slytherin was called and Delilah was glad for the excuse to look away and congratulate Malcolm Baddock.
After a while Delilah stopped paying attention and clapped whenever she heard the hat yell 'Slytherin'.
"Ugh get on with it," Delilah muttered as Laura Madly became a Hufflepuff.
And then, finally, the last student, Keven Whitby became a Hufflepuff and the Sorting ended. Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and the stool and carried them away.
"About time," Draco murmured, grabbing his knife and fork and looking at his golden plate.
Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide.
"I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."
"Finally that daft headmaster and I agree on something," Draco whispered as he and Delilah started piling food onto their plates.
Delilah looked across the table and was surprised to see Daphne sitting across from her, her eyes seemed slightly moist.
"Hey Daphne, you alright?" Delilah inquired.
"Yeah, I guess."
"Not very convincing."
A tear silently rolled down her face.
"My boyfriend broke up with me. It was just starting to go somewhere too."
Draco noticed what was happening and quickly started a very in depth conversation with the new Slytherin, Graham Pritchard, sitting next to him.
"Well, if he doesn't want you then don't waste your time over him, he's not worth it."
"I guess you're right, thanks."
"Now eat, you look famished."
The rest of the feast went smoothly, and finally, when the last of the pudding was cleared away, Dumbledore stood up. The chatter in the hall stopped immediately so the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.
"So!" said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered. I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.
"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."
The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. He continued, "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.
"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."
Delilah glanced at Draco, who looked resigned. Dumbledore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy — but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts —"
But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.
A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers' table.
A dull clunk echoed through the Hall with his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling. Daphne gasped.
The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was unlike any Delilah had seen. It looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what they were supposed to look like, and was not that skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that was frightening.
One of them was mostly normal, small, dark, and beady. The other, however, was lage, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue, artificial, eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye — and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that only the white was seen.
The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering inaudible words. He seemed to be making some inquiry to the stranger, who shook his head unsmiling, and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured for the man to take the empty seat on his right-hand side.
The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.
"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."
Though it was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, no one, not even the staff, clapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed sadly into the silence, and stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.
"Moody? Mad-Eye Moody? The ex-auror?" Delilah murmured to Draco.
"Yeah." Draco avoided looking at Moody and squirmed in his seat.
Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again into his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it. As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a few inches from the ground, and Delilah saw, below the table, several inches of carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot.
Dumbledore cleared his throat.
"As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."
"You're JOKING!" exclaimed Fred Weasley.
With that, the tension that had filled the Hall suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, including Delilah. Even Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.
"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar..."
Luckily Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.
"Er — but maybe this is not the time... no..." said Dumbledore, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament... well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.
"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities — until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."
The hall filled with excited whispers, despite the severity of the statement.
"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.
"The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."
At that, the whispers grew even louder. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the hall quieted once more.
"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, "the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age — that is to say, seventeen years or older — will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This" — Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and Fred and George were suddenly looking furious — "is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion." His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred's and George's mutinous faces. "I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.
"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"
Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.
Draco frowned as he and Delilah headed towards the Slytherin Common Room.
"I didn't know they were putting an age restriction on it," he muttered.
"Probably for the best, but I don't see what would stop students from asking an older student to sign you up. I still don't think you should sign up though," Delilah hastily added as a small light started to grow in Draco's eyes. "It would be almost impossible to have to go against those older students."
The light grew smaller, but was still there.
"I guess. Do you know the password?"
They had just reached the stone wall that hid the Slytherin Common Room.
"Ah... no."
They waited for a moment, and when nobody came, an idea formed in Delilah's head.
"Wait, wasn't Salazar a parselmouth?"
Draco nodded, his eyebrows wrinkled in confusion.
"So what if you could get in just by using Parseltongue?"
"That might work," Draco admitted.
"Opensesame," Delilah said in Parseltongue.
The entrance opened, revealing the Slytherin Common Room, the lake casting a soft green light.
Smiling, Delilah said goodbye to an impressed Draco and went to her room, which had moved up the hall.
As she unpacked her things, she finally felt at home.