Finally, when the plates were cleared and the cups were emptied, Professor Dumbledore got to his feet once more.
The Great Hall's chatter slowly died down, the sound of rain and wind being the only thing that could he heard.
"So! Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices," He announced. "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." His mouth twitched slightly.
"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."
Amisty was glad that Oliver Wood had graduated already, or he would have fainted.
"What?" Harry gasped, his jaw dropped as he stared around.
Fred and George were both mouthing soundlessly, unable to make a sound.
"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," Professor Dumbledore reassured, holding up his hands. "I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts -- "
Thunder rumbled outside loudly, and the Great Hall's doors opened with a deafening bang.
There was a man in the doorway, a long staff holding his weight and a black traveling cloak hung over his shoulders. Amisty shivered involuntarily as she looked at the stranger, wishing her cloak wasn't wet so she could gain warmth from it.
A fork of lightning illuminated him as he lowered his hood, revealing long, tangled grey hair, and began walking toward the staff table.
He reached the edge and started toward Dumbledore, each footstep followed by a clunk.
Another flash of lightning illuminated him, throwing his face into the light.
Hermione let out an audible gasp.
Not a single inch of skin was safe from scars, his mouth barely more than a diagonal line and half his nose seemed to be missing. That wasn't the scary part, though.
It was his eyes.
One was tiny dark, barely a speck on his weathered face. The other was wide, massive, and a bright electric blue. It moved around constantly, never blinking, and Amisty felt her hands fly to her mouth as it rolled all the way around so it was looking at the back of his head.
The stranger shook hands with Professor Dumbledore, who seemed to be murmuring a few words to him.
He shook his head, replying just as quietly, and he took a seat beside the Headmaster. He shook out his hair, pulling a plate of sausages toward him and sniffed them before pulling out a small knife and eating it while his strange blue eye continued to swivel around, surveying all the teachers and the students staring up at it in horror.
"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Professor Moody," Professor Dumbledore smiled into the silence that had fallen over everyone.
The Great Hall was silent, the only people clapping being Dumbledore and Hagrid.
Everyone else was too shocked to move their hands.
They stopped clapping very quickly, highly aware of the tension in the room.
"Moody? Mad-Eye Moody? The one your dad went to help this morning?" Harry whispered to Ron.
"Must be," Ron replied.
"What happened to him? What happened to his face?" Hermione asked quietly, looking up at him in shock.
"Dunno," Ron shrugged, still transfixed.
Moody reached into his traveling cloak and pulled out a hip flask, taking a long drink.
Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat, "As I was saying, 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 great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."
"You're JOKING!" Fred exclaimed loudly, his voice echoing in the silent room, but then the room wasn't that silent.
Almost everyone laughed, the uncertainty and quiet broken.
"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley, 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..." He began merrily, cutting off as Professor McGonagall cleared her throat.
"Er -- by maybe this is not the time... no... 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."
"Death toll?" Hermione hissed, her eyes wide and anxious.
Everyone else, however, looked intrigued. There were many quiet, excited whispers, and quite a few people were leaning forward in their seats.
"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament, 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 shortlisted 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."
"I'm going for it!" Fred announced, his face bright and eyes even brighter as he looked up at Dumbledore.
He wasn't the only one.
At every table there were people staring up at the Headmaster with laser focus, others whispering feverishly to each other. Even the first years, who had looked in shock and scared after the Sorting, were suddenly bright-eyed.
"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts, 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,"
There were several cries of outrage from around the Great Hall, especially from Fred and George, and he had to raise his voice.
"This 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."
He smiled slightly as he looked over at the twins.
"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!"
Everyone got to their feet and headed toward the door as Dumbledore turned to speak with Moody.
"They can't do that! We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?" George protested, glaring up at Dumbledore.
He hadn't joined the crowd heading up to the common rooms.
"They're not stopping me entering. The champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally," Fred declared. "And a thousand Galleons prize money!"
"Yeah... Yeah, a thousand Galleons..." Ron sighed, staring off at nothing.
"Come on, we'll be the only ones left here if you don't move," Hermione nudged the two of them, and they all headed up for Gryffindor Tower.
The entire walk there Fred and George were throwing ideas around of how Dumbledore was going to stop underage students from entering.
"Who's this impartial judge who's going to decide who the champions are?" Harry asked.
"Dunno, but it's them we'll have to fool. I reckon a couple of drops of Aging Potion might do it, George..." Fred suggested.
"Dumbledore knows you're not of age, though," Ron pointed out.
"Yeah, but he's not the one who decides who the champion is, is he? Sounds to me like once this judge knows who wants to enter, he'll choose the best from each school and never mind how old they are. Dumbledore's trying to stop us giving our names," Fred countered.
"People have died, though!" Hermione fretted as they started yet another staircase.
"Yeah, but that was years ago, wasn't it? Anyway, where's the fun without a bit of risk?" Fred waved her concern away. "Hey, Ron, what if we find out how to get 'round Dumbledore? Fancy entering?"
"What d'you reckon? Be cool to enter, wouldn't it? But I s'pose they might want someone older... Dunno if we've learned enough..." Ron turned to Harry, his eyes gleaming.
"I definitely haven't," Neville's familiar, though sad, voice piped up from behind the twins. "I expect my gran'd want me to try, though. She's always going on about how I should be upholding the family honor. I'll just have to -- oops..."
His foot had just sunk into one of the many trick steps.
The surrounding suits of armor creaked, their version of laughter as Harry and Ron tugged Neville out of the stairs grasp.
"Shut it, you," Ron growled, banging on the armor's visor as they walked past. Finally, they reached the Fat Lady's portrait.
"Password?" She asked as they came near.
"Balderdash," George replied instantly, "a prefect downstairs told me." He added at their confused expressions.
The common room was as familiar as ever, a crackling fire illuminating the surrounding plush furniture.
It was almost entirely empty, everyone already upstairs in their dormitories. Hermione glared at the flames, her face shadowed.
"Slave labor," She muttered darkly, her goodnights barely audible before she stalked up to the girls' dormitory.
"Goodnight," Amisty smiled at the boys as she followed after Hermione.
"'Night!" They called back.
She walked up the winding staircase, rubbing her eyes tiredly. When she reached the dormitory, Hermione was already curled up in her bed, the other girls there as well.
Amisty, however, wasn't ready to go to bed just yet. This was primarily because of the letter sitting on top of her bed. There was no owl in sight, Echo's cage was empty as she had flown up to the owlery already.
The envelope was relatively dry, only a few drops of rain wrinkling the paper here and there. She tore it open.
Dear Amisty,
I sent your dress for this year to the Burrow. I do hope Molly got it before you get to Hogwarts. As you probably already know, that dress used to belong to your mother. It was the dress she wore when we went to our first Ball. Don't worry about it not fitting, my mother took it upon herself to enchant it so that it would fit whoever put it on. She loved seeing it on Echo so much she refused to let her donate it. There's shoes to go along with it as well, even if you do end up taking them off halfway through. I hope you like it, and have fun at the Yule Ball. The first Triwizard Tournament in centuries, it's going to be impressive. Take care, I hope I'll be seeing you when the first Hogsmeade visit arrives.
Love, Dad ❤
Amisty grinned, digging through her trunk to find the package. She closed her eyes as she opened it, not wanting to see the dress just yet, and instead letting her fingers brush against the soft fabric of the dress until they hit the rougher, textured material of the shoes.
Curling her fingers around them, she pulled the two out, turned her back to the package, and opened her eyes.
Two delicate shoes were in her hands, made of what seemed to be shiny gold, but it wasn't stiff. Flowers and vines and curved lines weaved up and around the heel, glinting in the cold moonlight.
She'd have to practice walking in them if she didn't want to make a fool of herself at the 'Yule Ball' as her father had called it.
The shoes were gorgeous, and when she held up the ring Draco had anonymously gifted her first year, they matched almost perfectly.
And that meant the golden ear cuff still wrapped around the upper curve of her ear matched them as well.
With a sort of drunken smile, she closed her eyes and tucked the shoes away before rewrapping the package and stowing it away in her trunk. After changing into her pajamas, she dove under the covers, listening to the sound of the rain outside as she twisted the ring around.
Another smile broke across her face and she buried her face in her pillow, the memory of the hug on the train staining her cheeks scarlet.
She could only hope Draco felt the same way.