Chapter 629: The Triwizard Tournament
At the front of the Hall, Professor McGonagall unfurled a long roll of
parchment.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit upon the stool," she
told the line of first-years. "When the hat announces your House, you will go
and sit at the appropriate table.
"Stewart Ackerley!"
A boy walked forward, visibly trembling from head to toe. "Don't eat my brain...
please don't eat my brain..." he whispered. He gingerly picked up the Sorting
Hat, placed it over his eyes, and sat.
"RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouted.
The rain continued to hammer against the high, dark windows. This year, the
intake for Ravenclaw was noticeably larger than the last—about two or three more
students than average.
The first thing the new eagles did after escaping from beneath the brim of the
hat was to scramble toward the table and sit as close to Sean as possible. They
sat bolt upright, stealing frequent glances at the older boy who sat half a head
taller than them.
Very few Ravenclaws hadn't read Green's Notes. While the Foundational Magic
volume was considered a brilliant summary, The Wizarding Magical Annals was
something entirely different—it was a frontier. No wizard in history had ever
explained the nature of magic from such a unique perspective. Though it was
dense and occasionally obscure, any wizard with a grain of sense could sense the
sheer scale of the wisdom contained within its pages.
More importantly, Albus Dumbledore himself had provided the foreword:
"This was written by my student. While he is still young, his perspective is
entirely revolutionary. We must acknowledge that the stage belongs to the youth
now."
A crack of thunder shook the panes, and a jagged fork of lightning illuminated
the enchanted ceiling, reflecting off the golden plates.
"I have only two words for you," Dumbledore said, standing up after the final
student was sorted. He spread his arms wide. "Tuck in!"
This was exactly what the students wanted to hear. The Hall erupted into cheers,
followed immediately by the clatter of knives and forks.
Before long, the remains of the main course vanished from the platters, replaced
instantly by mountains of desserts. Finally, when even the last crumbs of
treacle tart had disappeared, the plates were left clean and sparkling once
more. Albus Dumbledore rose for a second time.
The humming chatter of the Hall died away, leaving only the sound of the wind
howling around the castle and the rain lashing the stone.
"Now then!" Dumbledore beamed at the sea of faces. "Now that we are all well-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 inform you that the list of objects
forbidden inside the castle has been expanded this year to include Screaming
Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list now
comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items and may be viewed in Mr.
Filch's office, should anyone care to verify it."
The corners of Dumbledore's mouth gave a small twitch. He continued:
"As ever, I must remind you that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off-limits to
all students. Furthermore, third-years and above are permitted to visit the
village of Hogsmeade only with a signed permission slip.
"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup
will not take place this year."
"What?!"
At the Ravenclaw table, Roger Davies looked like he'd been punched in the gut.
He spun around to look at his teammates. They were all staring at Dumbledore
with their mouths hanging open, struck dumb with shock.
Dumbledore continued, "This is due to a large-scale event that will begin in
October and continue throughout the school year, requiring much of the faculty's
time and energy. However, I am certain you will all find it most enjoyable. I am
very pleased to announce that this year at Hogwarts—"
At that moment, a deafening roll of thunder shook the air and the Great Hall
doors were blasted open.
A man stood in the doorway, leaning heavily on a long staff and wrapped in a
black traveling cloak. Every head in the room turned toward the stranger. A bolt
of lightning split the ceiling, illuminating him in a stark, white flash.
He pulled back his hood, revealing a mass of long, grizzled grey hair, and began
the long walk toward the High Table.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
With every step, a hollow, metallic ring echoed through the silence of the Hall.
He reached the end of the High Table and limped toward the center where
Dumbledore waited. Another flash of lightning lit up the room, and Hermione let
out a sharp gasp.
"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Practical Instructor,"
Dumbledore said, breaking the silence cheerfully. "Professor Moody."
Normally, a new appointment was met with polite applause. But tonight, aside
from Dumbledore and Hagrid, not a single person—staff or student—moved.
Until a single sound cut through the silence.
At the Ravenclaw table, Sean began to clap. His expression was a mask of
professional, routine politeness. His applause startled Hermione and Justin—who
had quietly "sneaked" over to sit at the Ravenclaw table—into joining him. The
rest of the Ravenclaws followed suit. Like a wave, the other three houses
finally snapped out of their trance and began to clap frantically.
Dumbledore joined in for a few beats, his eyes crinkling. Their new Professor,
Mad-Eye Moody, sat in his chair, his magical eye spinning wildly in its socket.
"Moody?" Hermione whispered, leaning in so close her face nearly touched Sean's.
"Is that really Mad-Eye Moody? The legendary Auror Grandpa Marcus talked about?
He's our new Professor?"
"It's him," Justin confirmed, his eyes fixed on the man's scarred face.
At the center of the table, Dumbledore cleared his throat.
"As I was saying," he continued, smiling at the crowd—though most students were
still staring at Moody in horror—"we are to have the honor of hosting a
magnificent event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for
over a century. It is my great pleasure to announce that the Triwizard
Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."
"You're joking!" Fred Weasley shouted from the Gryffindor table.
Dumbledore chuckled. "I am not joking, Mr. Weasley. Though, since you mention
it, I did hear an excellent one over the holidays about a troll, a hag, and a
leprechaun who all go into a bar..."
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.
"Ah... but perhaps this is not the time," Dumbledore said, twinkling. "Now,
where was I? Ah, yes, the Triwizard Tournament... for those of you who do not
know, the tournament was established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly
competition between the three largest European schools of magic: Hogwarts,
Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A single Champion is selected to represent each
school, and the three compete in three magical tasks..."
As Dumbledore reached the word "Champion," nearly every head in the Great Hall
turned in a single, fluid motion to stare directly at the Ravenclaw table.
They were all looking at Sean.