𓏲 . THE BOY WHO LIVED . .៹♡
                                                   CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
                            ─── WINKY'S CRY & MAD-EYE MOODY

"You dropped it?" Mr. Diggory repeated in disbelief. "Is this a confession? You threw it aside after you conjured the Mark?" "Amos, think who you're talking to!" Mr. Weasley said, very angrily. "Is Harry Potter likely to conjure the Dark Mark?"

"Er - of course not," Mr. Diggory mumbled . "Sorry... got carried away..." "I didn't drop it there, anyway," Harry said, jerking his thumb towards the trees beneath the skull. "I missed it right after we got into the woods."

"So," Mr. Diggory said, his eyes hardening as he turned to look at Winky again, cowering at his feet. "You found this wand, eh, elf ? And you picked it up and thought you'd have some fun with it, did you?"

"I is not doing magic with it, sir!" Winky squealed, tears streaming down the sides of her squashed and bulbous nose. "I is... I is... I is just picking it up, sir! I is not making the Dark Mark, sir, I is not knowing how!"

"It wasn't her!" Hermione said. She looked very nervous, speaking up in front of all these Ministry wizards, yet determined all the same. "Winky's got a squeaky little voice, and the voice we heard doing the incantation was much deeper!" She looked around at Charlus, Harry, Alistair and Ron, appealing for their support. "It didn't sound anything like Winky, did it?"

"No," Charlus and Harry said together, shaking  the head immediately. "It definitely didn't sound like an elf." "Yeah, it was a human voice," Ron said. "A man's voice to be specific." Alistair added , wrapping his leather jacket tighter around himself.

"Well, we'll soon see," Mr. Diggory growled, looking unimpressed. "There's a simple way of discovering the last spell a wand performed, elf, did you know that?"

Winky trembled and shook her head frantically, her ears flap- ping, as Mr. Diggory raised his own wand again and placed it tip to tip with Harry's. "Prior Incantato!" Mr. Diggory roared.

Charlus heard Hermione gasp, horrified, as a gigantic serpent-tongued skull erupted from the point where the two wands met, but it was a mere shadow of the green skull high above them; it looked as though it were made of thick gray smoke: the ghost of a spell.

"Deletrius!" Mr. Diggory shouted, and the smoky skull vanished in a wisp of smoke. Then, with a kind of savage triumph, Amos looked down upon Winky, who was still shaking convulsively.

"I is not doing it!" she squealed, her eyes rolling in terror. "I is not, I is not, I is not knowing how! I is a good elf, I isn't using wands, I isn't knowing how!""You've been caught red-handed, elf!" Mr. Diggory roared. "Caught with the guilty wand in your hand!"

"Amos," Mr. Weasley said loudly, "think about it... precious few wizards know how to do that spell... Where would she have learned it?" "Perhaps Amos is suggesting," Mr. Crouch chimed in to stir the pot, cold anger in every syllable, "that I routinely teach my servants to conjure the Dark Mark?"

There was a deeply unpleasant silence. Amos Diggory looked horrified. "Mr Crouch... not... not at all..." "You have now come very close to accusing the two people in this clearing who are least likely to conjure that Mark!"Mr. Crouch barked. "Harry Potter and myself! I suppose you are familiar with the boy's story, Amos?"

"Of course — everyone knows —" Mr. Diggory muttered, looking highly discomforted. "And I trust you remember the many proofs I have given, over a long career, that I despise and detest the Dark Arts and those who practice them?" Mr. Crouch defended, his eyes bulging.

"Mr. Crouch, I — I never suggested you had anything to do with it!" Amos Diggory muttered again, now reddening behind his scrubby brown beard. "If you accuse my elf, you accuse me, Diggory!" Mr. Crouch shouted. "Where else would she have learned to conjure it?"

"She — she might've picked it up anywhere —" "Precisely, Amos," Mr. Weasley said. "She might have picked it up anywhere...Winky?" he said kindly, turning to the elf, but she flinched as though he too was shouting at her. "Where exactly did you find Harry's wand?"

Winky was twisting the hem of her tea towel so violently that it was fraying beneath her fingers. "I - I is finding it... finding it there, sir..." she whispered, "there... in the trees, sir..."

"You see, Amos?" Mr. Weasley said. "Whoever conjured the Mark could have Disapparated right after they'd done it, leaving Harry's wand behind. A clever thing to do, not using their own wand, which could have betrayed them. And Winky here had the misfortune to come across the wand moments later and pick it up."

"But then, she'd have been only a few feet away from the real culprit!" Mr. Diggory said impatiently. "Elf ? Did you see anyone?"

Winky began to tremble worse than ever. Her giant eyes flickered from Mr. Diggory, to Ludo Bagman, and onto Mr. Crouch. Then she gulped and said, "I is seeing no one, sir... no one..."

"Amos," Mr. Crouch said curtly, "I am fully aware that, in the ordinary course of events, you would want to take Winky into your department for questioning. I ask you, however, to allow me to deal with her."

Mr. Diggory looked as though he didn't think much of this suggestion at all, but it was clear to Charlus that Mr. Crouch was such an important member of the Ministry that he did not dare refuse him.

"You may rest assured that she will be punished," Mr. Crouch added coldly. "M-m-master..." Winky stammered, looking up at Mr. Crouch, her eyes brimming with tears. "M-m-master, p-p-please..."

Mr. Crouch stared back, his face somehow sharpened, each line upon it more deeply etched. There was no pity in his gaze. "Winky has behaved tonight in a manner I would not have be- lieved possible," he said slowly. "I told her to remain in the tent. I told her to stay there while I went to sort out the trouble. And I find that she disobeyed me. This means clothes."

"No!" Winky shrieked, prostrating herself at Mr. Crouch's feet. "No, master! Not clothes, not clothes!"

Charlus knew that the only way to turn a house-elf free was to present it with proper garments. It was pitiful to see the way Winky clutched at her tea towel as she sobbed over Mr. Crouch's feet.

"But she was frightened!" Hermione burst out angrily, glaring at Mr. Crouch. Charlus argued, "Your elf is scared of heights, and those wizards in masks were levitating people! You can't blame her for wanting to get out of their way!"

Mr. Crouch took a step backward, freeing himself from contact with the elf, whom he was surveying as though she were something filthy and rotten that was contaminating his over-shined shoes. "I have no use for a house-elf who disobeys me," he said coldly, looking over at Charlus and Hermione. "I have no use for a servant who forgets what is due to her master, and to her master's reputation."

The light brown-haired boy was about to retaliate, but Winky was crying so hard that her sobs echoed around the clearing.

There was a very nasty silence, which was ended by Mr. Weasley, who said quietly, "Well, I think I'll take my lot back home, if nobody's got any objections. Amos, that wand's told us all it can — if Harry could have it back, please —"

Mr. Diggory handed Harry his wand and Harry pocketed it. "Come on, you five," Mr. Weasley said quietly. But Hermione didn't seem to want to move; her eyes were still upon the sobbing elf.

Charlus sent one last glare in the direction of the Ministry officials before he turned around to face a tearful Hermione. He stepped in front of her to break her gaze off of the weeping house-elf. Charlus spoke in a comforting tone as she focused on him, "Hermione, please."

With that, she let Charlus guide her away from the scene, but couldn't help herself from wheeping into his shoulder as they walked out of the clearing and through the trees.

"What's going to happen to Winky?" Hermione asked, the moment they had left the clearing. "I don't know," Charlus said softly, comforting her gently.

"The way they were treating her!" Hermione said furiously; her tone changing so suddenly that it genuinely scared the light brown-haired boy. "Mr. Diggory, calling her 'elf' all the time... and Mr. Crouch! He knows she didn't do it and he's still going to sack her! He didn't care how frightened she'd been, or how upset she was — it was like she wasn't even human!"

"Well, she's not," Ron said as he caught the end of her and Charlus' conversation when the two had met up with him, Harry, Alistair and Mr. Weasley. Hermione rounded on the boy. "That doesn't mean she hasn't got feelings, Ron. It's disgusting the way —"

"Hermione, I agree with you," Mr. Weasley said quickly, beckoning her on, "but now is not the time to discuss elf rights. I want to get back to the tent as fast as we can so we can get home. What happened to the others?"

"We lost them in the dark," Ron said. "Dad, why was everyone so uptight about that skull thing?" "I'll explain everything when we get back home," Mr. Weasley said tensely.

However, when they reached the edge of the wood, their progress was impeded. A large crowd of frightened-looking witches and wizards was congregated there, and when they saw Mr. Weasley coming toward them, many of them surged forward. "What's going on in there?" "Who conjured it?" "Arthur — it's not — Him?"

"Of course it's not Him," Mr. Weasley said impatiently. "We don't know who it was; it looks like they Disapparated. Now excuse me, please, I want to get home."

He led Charlus, Harry, Alistair, Ron and Hermione through the crowd and back into the campsite. All was quiet now; there was no sign of the masked wizards, though several ruined tents were still smoking.

Charlie's head was poking out of the boys' tent. "Dad, what's going on?" he called through the dark. "Fred, George, and Ginny got back okay, but the others —"  "I've got them here," Mr. Weasley said, bending down and entering the tent. Charlus, Harry, Alistair, Ron and Hermione entered after him.

Bill was sitting at the small kitchen table, holding a cloth to his arm, which was bleeding profusely. Charlie had a large rip in his shirt, and Percy was sporting a bloody nose. Fred, George, and Ginny looked unhurt, though shaken.

"Did you get them, Dad?" Bill said sharply. "The person who conjured the Mark?" "No," Mr. Weasley said. "We found Barty Crouch's elf holding Harry's wand, but we're none the wiser about who actually conjured the Mark."

"What?" Bill, Charlie, and Percy said together. "Harry's wand?" Fred said. "Mr. Crouch's elf ?" Percy said, sounding thunderstruck.

With some assistance from Charlus, Harry, Alistair, Ron, and Hermione, Mr. Weasley explained what had happened in the woods. When they had finished their story, Percy swelled indignantly.

"Well, Mr. Crouch is quite right to get rid of an elf like that!" he said. "Running away when he'd expressly told her not to...embarrassing him in front of the whole Ministry...how would that have looked, if she'd been brought up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control —"

"She didn't do anything — she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!" Hermione snapped at Percy, who looked very taken aback. Hermione had always got on fairly well with Percy — better, indeed, than any of the others.

"Hermione, a wizard in Mr. Crouch's position can't afford a house-elf who's going to run amok with a wand!" Percy said pompously, recovering himself. "She didn't run amok!" Charlus shouted. "She just picked it up off the ground!"

"Look, can someone just explain what that skull thing was?" Ron said impatiently. "It wasn't hurting anyone...Why's it such a big deal?" "I told you, it's You-Know-Who's symbol, Ron," Hermione said, before anyone else could answer. "I read about it in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts."

"And it hasn't been seen for thirteen years," Mr. Weasley said quietly. "Of course people panicked... it was almost like seeing You-Know-Who back again." "I don't get it," Ron said, frowning. "I mean... it's still only a shape in the sky..."

"Ron, You-Know-Who and his followers sent the Dark Mark into the air whenever they killed," Mr. Weasley said. "The terror it inspired... you have no idea, you're too young. Just picture coming home and finding the Dark Mark hovering over your house, and knowing what you're about to find inside..." Mr. Weasley winced. "Everyone's worst fear... the very worst..."

There was silence for a moment. Then Bill, removing the cloth from his arm to check on his cut, said, "Well, it didn't help us tonight, whoever conjured it. It scared the Death Eaters away the moment they saw it. They all Disapparated before we'd got near enough to unmask any of them. We caught the Muggles before they hit the ground, though. They're having their memories modified right now."

"Death Eaters?" Charlus asked. "What are Death Eaters?" "It's what You-Know-Who's supporters called themselves — my father told me about them once when I was younger," Alistair explained. "I think we saw what's left of them tonight — the ones who managed to keep themselves out of Azkaban, anyway." 

"We can't prove it was them, Alistair," Mr. Weasley said. "Though it probably was," he added hopelessly. "Yeah, I bet it was!" Ron said suddenly. "Dad, we met the Malfoy twins in the woods, and Draco as good as told us their dad was one of those nutters in masks! And we all know the Malfoys were right in with You-Know-Who!"

"But what were Voldemort's supporters —"Harry began. Everybody flinched - like most of the wizarding world, the Weasleys always avoided saying Voldemort's name. "Sorry," Harry said quickly. "What were You-Know-Who's supporters up to, levitating Muggles? I mean, what was the point?"

"The point?" Mr. Weasley said with a hollow laugh. "Harry, that's their idea of fun. Half the Muggle killings back when You- Know-Who was in power were done for fun. I suppose they had a few drinks tonight and couldn't resist reminding us all that lots of them are still at large. A nice little reunion for them," he finished disgustedly.

"But if they were the Death Eaters, why did they Disapparate when they saw the Dark Mark?" Ron asked. "They'd have been pleased to see it, wouldn't they?"

"Use your brains, Ron," Bill said, rolling his eyes slightly. "If they really were Death Eaters, they worked very hard to keep out of Azkaban when You-Know-Who lost power, and told all sorts of lies about him forcing them to kill and torture people. I bet they'd be even more frightened than the rest of us to see him come back. They denied they'd ever been involved with him when he lost his powers, and went back to their daily lives...I don't reckon he'd be over-pleased with them, do you?"

Ron shook his head slightly, and looked to the floor, slightly embarrassed - how he hated it when Bill was always right.

"So... whoever conjured the Dark Mark..." Hermione said slowly, "were they doing it to show support for the Death Eaters, or to scare them away?"

"Your guess is as good as ours, Hermione," Mr. Weasley said. "But I'll tell you this... it was only the Death Eaters who ever knew how to conjure it. I'd be very surprised if the person who did it hadn't been a Death Eater once, even if they're not now... Listen, it's very late, and if your mother hears what's happened she'll be worried sick. We best be heading off."

Taking a hold of their things, they left the campsite as quickly as possible. They approached the spot where the Portkey lay and, when they reached it, they all grabbed hold of the old boot Portkey, and were back to the Burrow before the sun had really risen.

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Within the next few weeks, the entire Wizarding World had been informed of the Quidditch World Cup's dark turn, thanks to Rita Skeeter's article in the Daily Prophet.

Nonetheless, The Weasley's, Charlus, Harry, Alistair and Hermione were more concerned with occupying themselves into getting their needed school supplies from Diagon Alley; the start of the term was approaching, and the Dark Mark wasn't going to distract them from that.

Before they even knew it, the children were boarding the Hogwarts Express at King's Cross Station once again, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sending them off as per usual. Charlus, Harry, Alistair, Ron and Hermione piled into a compartment by themselves, separating from Fred, George and Ginny.

Students were hanging out compartment doors, talking and laughing as usual, while an old woman was walking up and down the aisles with her iconic candy trolley. She stopped when she reached the golden five's compartment, "Anything from the trolley, dears?"

Charlus, Harry, Alistair and Ron had leapt up, grabbing their money to buy some sweets, while Hermione was too fixated on reading the latest Daily Prophet article that was in her hand.

"Packet of Drewbals and a Liquorice Wand, please-" Ron said, but he frowned as he dug in his pockets and pulled out nothing but air. "On second thought, just the Drewbals..."

"It's alright." A voice came from outside the trolley. "I'll pay."

Anna Diggory walked up to the trolley, payed the witch for the boy's licorice wand, and got some cauldron cakes for herself. 

Ron blushed as he began stuttering uncontrollably, "H-hi, Anna." "Hey Ron," she beamed as she handed him his licorice wand. "It's good to see you! How've you been?"

While Ron was talking to Anna, Charlus addressed the old lady with a smile, "Can I get a Chocolate Frog, and a Pumpkin Pastie, please?" "Certainly, dear." the lady  replied and handed the boy his candy in exchange for him handing her some change.

"Two Pumpkin Pasties, please."

A girly voice from another compartment had said, which caused Charlus, Harry and Alistair to look up; it was Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker.

"Hi Charlus! Hi Harry!Hi Alistair!" she said upon recognizing them, beaming at them with a bright smile. "Hey," Alistair said simply while Charlus nodded at her. But Harry was a stuttering mess, "H-h-hey."

Charlus laughed a little as he excused himself from the awkward interaction that his twin brother was clearly having with his crush. The light brown-haired boy took his seat next to Hermione before he raised the Chocolate Frog in her direction, "Here - they're your favourite right?"

His voice was the only thing able to pull Hermione from her reading. She turned towards him, slightly aghast but smiled nonetheless, taking the chocolate from his hand, "Yes, thank you."

"No worries," Charlus said kindly as he took a bite of his Pumpkin Pastie. As he swallowed, he turned back to Hermione and pointed to the newspaper just as Harry and Alistair had sat back down next to Ron, "What's Rita Skeeter saying now?"

"This is horrible," she explained, "How can the Ministry not know who conjured it if it wasn't Winky? Isn't there any security?" "Loads," Ron said with a mouth full of food. "According to Dad. That's what's worried them so much. Happened right under their noses."

As Charlus and Harry looked to the newspaper, the Daily Prophet's front page screaming; SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP STILL HAVE YET TO PROVIDE ANSWERS - which was written right above a moving image of the Dark Mark being conjured. The twins instantly caressed the scars on their foreheads upon reading the page, reminiscing on the fear of the nightmare they had in their bedrooms on Privet Drive.

"What's up, Charlus, Harry?" Alistair asked immediately upon noticing his friends tense at the article. "There's something we haven't told you," Harry said softly, looking guilty towards his best friends. "On Saturday morning, we woke up with our scars hurting again."

Hermione gasped and started making suggestions at once, mentioning a number of reference books, and everybody from Albus Dumbledore to Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse. Alistair was trying to process the information in his head; he was attempting to work out if there was a connection that they were missing.

All while Ron simply looked dumbstruck. "But - he wasn't there, was he?" he asked. " You-Know-Who? I mean - last time your scars kept hurting, he was at Hogwarts, wasn't he?"

"I'm sure he wasn't there," Charlus replied. "But we were dreaming about him... him and Peter - you know, Wormtail. I can't remember all of it now, but they were plotting to kill...three people."

He had teetered for a moment on the verge of saying "us" but couldn't bring himself to make Hermione look any more horrified than she already did.

"It was only a dream," Alistair said bracingly, trying to overrule the obvious fear in the room. "Just a nightmare."

"Yeah, but was it, though?" Harry said, turning to look out of the window towards the tracks that were moving at a fast pace. "It's weird, isn't it...? Our scars hurts, and three days later the Death Eaters are on the march, and Voldemort's sign's up in the sky again."

"Don't - say - his - name!" Ron hissed through gritted teeth. "Oh, for goodness sakes, Ron," Charlus scolded, "Harry and I killed the bloke when we were babies. I think we, of all people, have earned the right to call him by his name."

"And remember what Professor Trelawney said?" Harry went on, ignoring the arguing happening between his twin brother and his best friend. "At the end of last year?"

Hermione's terrified look vanished as she let out a derisive snort, "Oh Harry, you aren't going to pay attention to anything that old fraud says?"

"You weren't there," Harry defended. "You and Charlus had stormed off by the time she said anything - you didn't hear her. This time was different. I told you, she went into a trance - a real one, and she said the Dark Lord would rise again... greater and more terrible than ever before... and he'd manage it because his servant was going to go back to him... and that night Wormtail escaped."

"Did you two write to Sirius and Daniel?" Hermione asked. "Yeah, we told them about our scars," Charlus replied, shrugging. "We're waiting for their answer." "Good thinking!" Alistair said. "I bet Sirius and Daniel'll know what to do!"

Hermione and Ron nodded in agreement to which Charlus and Harry had no choice but to drop the topic for now. After that they didn't talk much as they changed into their school robes, and were getting ready to arrive at Hogwarts. The Express slowed down at last and finally stopped in the pitch-darkness of Hogsmeade station.

As the train doors opened, there was a rumble of thunder overhead. The rain was now coming down so thick and fast that it was as though buckets of ice-cold water were being emptied repeatedly over their heads.

"Hey Hagrid!" Charlus yelled, seeing a gigantic silhouette at the far end of the platform. "All righ', Char?" Hagrid bellowed back, waving. "See yeh at the feast if we don' drown!"

First years traditionally reached Hogwarts Castle by sailing across the lake with Hagrid.

"Oooh, I wouldn't fancy crossing the lake in this weather," Hermione said fervently, shivering as they inched slowly along the dark platform with the rest of the crowd.

A hundred horseless carriages stood waiting for them outside the station. Charlus, Harry, Alistair, Ron, and Hermione climbed gratefully into one of them, the door shut with a snap, and a few moments later, with a great lurch, the long procession of carriages was rumbling and splashing its way up the track toward Hogwarts Castle.

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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, Charlus could see Hogwarts coming nearer, its many lighted windows blurred and shimmering behind the thick curtain of rain. 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. Charlus, Harry, Alistair, Ron and Hermione jumped down from their carriage and dashed up the steps too, looking up only when they were safely inside the cavernous, torch-lit entrance hall, with its magnificent marble staircase.

"Blimey," Ron said, shaking his head and sending water everywhere, "if that keeps up the lake's going to overflow. I'm soak — ARRGH!"

A large, red, water-filled balloon had dropped from out of the ceiling onto Ron's head and exploded. Drenched and sputtering, Ron staggered sideways into Harry, just as a second water bomb dropped — narrowly missing Hermione, it burst at Charlus' feet, sending a wave of cold water over his trainers into his socks.

People all around them shrieked and started pushing one another in their efforts to get out of the line of fire. Charlus looked up and saw, floating twenty feet above them, Peeves the Poltergeist, a little man in a bell-covered hat and orange bow tie, his wide, malicious face contorted with concentration as he took aim again.

"Bloody poltergeist..." Charlus muttered. "PEEVES!" an angry voice yelled. "Peeves, come down here at ONCE!"

Professor McGonagall had come dashing out of the Great Hall, she skidded on the wet floor and grabbed Hermione around the neck to stop herself falling. "Ouch - sorry, Miss Granger -"

"That's all right, Professor!" Hermione gasped, massaging her throat. "Peeves, get down here NOW!" Professor McGonagall barked, straightening her pointed hat and glaring upward through her square-rimmed spectacles.

"Not doing nothing!" Peeves cackled, 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!" Professor McGonagall shouted. "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!" Professor McGonagall said sharply to the bedraggled crowd. "Into the Great Hall, come on!"

"Bye, Minnie", Charlus said in a singing voice before he, Harry, Alistair, Ron, and Hermione slipped and slid across the entrance hall and through the double doors on the right. Ron muttering furiously under his breath as he pushed his sopping hair off his face.

The Great Hall looked its usual splendid, 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.

 The five of them walked past, the Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuffs, before Charlus and Alistair said goodbye to them, taking their seats at the Slytherin table, as the others sat down with the rest of the Gryffindors at the far side of the Hall, next to Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost.

"Good evening," the Slytherin ghost, the Bloody-Baron, said, beaming at them. "Says who?" Charlus said, taking off his sneakers and emptying them of water. "Hope they hurry up with the Sorting. I'm starving."

The Sorting of the new students into Houses took place at the start of every school year, but by an unlucky combination of circumstances, Charlus hadn't been present at one since his own. He was quite looking forward to it.

Charlus looked up at the staff table. There seemed to be rather more empty seats there than usual. Hagrid, of course, was still fighting his way across the lake with the first years; Professor McGonagall was presumably supervising the drying of the entrance hall floor, but there was another empty chair too, and Charlus couldn't think who else was missing.

"Where's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Anna asked, almost as if she had read the boy's mind.

They had never yet had a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who had lasted more than three terms. Charlus' favorite by far had  been Professor Lupin, who had resigned last year. He looked up and down the staff table. There was definitely no new face there.

"Maybe they couldn't get anyone!" Matthew said, looking anxious. "They would have, don't worry," Adrian said, drumming his fingers on the table.

Charlus 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 sallow-faced, hook-nosed, greasy-haired Potions master, Snape —  Charlus'  least favorite person at Hogwarts.

Charlus' loathing of Snape was matched only by Snape's hatred of him, a hatred which had, if possible, intensified last year, when Charlus had helped Sirius and Daniel escape right under Snape's overlarge nose.

On Snape's other side was an empty seat, Charlus guessed was 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 magnificent 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.

Charlus glanced up at the ceiling too. It was enchanted to look like the sky outside, and he had never seen it look this stormy. Black and purple clouds were swirling across it, and as another thunderclap sounded outside, a fork of lightning flashed across it.

"Oh hurry up," Blaise Zabini moaned, beside Charlus, "I could eat a hippogriff."

The words were no sooner out of his mouth than 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. If the older students were wet, it was nothing to how these first years looked.

They appeared to have 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 what Charlus recognised as Hagrid's moleskin overcoat.

The coat was so big for him that it looked as though he was draped in a furry black marquee. His small face protruded from over the collar, looking almost painfully excited. When he had lined up with his terrified-looking peers, he caught Colin Creevey's eye, gave a double thumbs-up and mouthed, "I fell in the lake!" He looked positively delighted about it.

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!

The Great Hall rang with applause as the Sorting Hat finished. "That's not the song it sang when it Sorted us," Charlus said, clapping along with everyone else.

"Sings a different one every year," Alistair told him. "It's got to be a pretty boring life, hasn't it, being a hat? I suppose it spends all year making up the next one."

Professor McGonagall was now unrolling a large scroll of parchment. "When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool," she told the first years. "When the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table. Ackerley, Stewart!"

A boy walked forward, visibly trembling from head to foot, picked up the Sorting Hat, put it on, and sat down on the stool. "RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouted.

Stewart Ackerley took off the hat and hurried into a seat at the Ravenclaw table, where everyone was applauding him. Harry caught a glimpse of Cho, the Ravenclaw Seeker, cheering Stewart
Ackerley as he sat down. For a fleeting second, Harry had a strange desire to join the Ravenclaw table too.

Charlus, who had caught his wandering eyes and dazed expression, sent a small smirk to him before focusing on the sorting once more.

"Baddock, Malcolm!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

The table on the other side of the hall erupted with cheers; Charlus could see Draco clapping as Baddock joined the Slytherins. Fred and George hissed Malcolm Baddock as he sat down.

"Branstone, Eleanor!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Cauldwell, Owen!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Creevey, Dennis!"

Tiny Dennis Creevey staggered forward, tripping over Hagrid's moleskin, just as Hagrid himself sidled into the Hall through a door behind the teachers' table. About twice as tall as a normal
man, and at least three times as broad, Hagrid, with his long, wild, tangled black hair and beard, looked slightly alarming — a misleading impression, for Charlus, and Alistair knew Hagrid to possess a very kind nature. He winked at them as he sat down at the end of the staff table and watched Dennis Creevey putting on the Sorting Hat. The rip at the brim opened wide —

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted.

Hagrid clapped along with the Gryffindors as Dennis Creevey, beaming widely, took off the hat, placed it back on the stool, and hurried over to join his brother.

The Sorting continued; boys and girls with varying degrees of fright on their faces moving one by one to the three-legged stool, the line dwindling slowly as Professor McGonagall passed the L's.

"Oh hurry up," Blaise moaned, massaging his stomach. "I thought I was sat next to Blaise Zabini, not Ron Weasley," Charlus said sarcastically as "Madley, Laura!" became a Hufflepuff.

"McDonald, Natalie!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Pritchard, Graham!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Quirke, Orla!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

And finally, with "Whitby, Kevin!" ("HUFFLEPUFF!"), the Sorting ended. Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and the stool and carried them away.

"About time," Blaise said, seizing his knife and fork and looking expectantly at his golden plate.

Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide in welcome. "I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."

"Hear, hear!" Blaise, Charlus and Alistair said loudly, as the empty dishes filled magically before their eyes. "Aaah, 'at's be'er," Blaise said, with his mouth full of mashed potato.

Charlus and Alistair chatted happily while enjoying the good food. The rain was still drumming heavily against the high, dark windows. Another clap of thunder shook the windows, and the stormy ceiling flashed, illuminating the golden plates as the remains of the first course vanished and were replaced, instantly, with puddings.

"Treacle tart!" Blaise said, excitedly. "Spotted dick, look! Chocolate gateau!"

When the puddings, too, had been demolished, and the last crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them sparkling clean, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet again. The buzz of chattering filling the Great Hall ceased almost at once, so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.

"So!" Dumbledore said, 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 Boom-crangs. 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."

"What the hell!?"'Charlus yelled. He looked around at his fellow members of the Quidditch team. They were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak.

 Dumbhedore 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 travelling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swivelled towards 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 grey hair, then began to walk up towards the teachers table.

A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on 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. Pansy gasped.

The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any Charlus had ever seen. It looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too 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 made him frightening.

One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue 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 all they could see was whiteness.

"Blimey!" Blaise exclaimed, "That's Mad-Eye Moody!" "Alastor Moody?" Anna questioned in a soft whisper. "The Auror?" "Auror?" Matthew questioned, turning to face the four.

"He's an old friend of Dumbledore's, I think." Alistair said ,recognizing the man upon first glance. "Wait, who is Mad-Eye Moody?" Charlus asked, utterly confused.

"He's retired, used to work at the Ministry," Alistair explained . "He was an Auror, one of the best... a Dark wizard catcher," he added, seeing Charlus' blank look. "Half the cells in Azkaban are full because of him. He made himself loads of enemies, though... the families of people he caught, mainly... and I heard he's been getting really paranoid in his old age. Doesn't trust anyone anymore, sees dark wizards everywhere."

"Meaning, he's barking mad," Blaise joked which earned a scolding look from Anna.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words Mavis couldn't hear. He seemed to be making some enquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmiling and replied in an under-tone. Dumbledore nodded, and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.

The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark grey hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages towards 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 Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," Dumbledore said brightly into the inaudible chatter of the students before him. "Professor Moody!"

It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students clapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid. Both put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.

"What happened to him?" Pansy whispered to the Malfoy twins , who sat across from her. "What happened to his face?" "Dunno," Draco whispered back, watching Moody with fascination.

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 travelling 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 Charlus saw, below the table several inches of carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot.

"What's that he's drinking, do you suppose?" Adrian asked the table. "I don't know, but I don't think it's pumpkin juice," Charlus answered, watching as Moody shivered.

Dumbledore cleared his throat again. "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!" Fred said loudly.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively. "I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though, now 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 -"

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly. "Er - but maybe this is not the time... no..." Dumbledore said. "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. 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?" Anna whispered, looking alarmed. But her anxiety did not seem to be shared by the majority of students in the Hall; many of them were whispering excitedly to one another, and Charlus himself was far more interested in hearing about the tournament than in worrying about deaths that had happened hundreds of years ago.

"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.

"Our foreign delegations will be arriving within the next few days, and the selection of the three champions will take place shortly after. 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!" Draco hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches.

He was not the only person who seemed to be visualizing himself as the Hogwarts champion. At every House table, Charlus could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else whispering fervently to their neighbors. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more.

"Eager as I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said softly, "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 the Weasley twins 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."

"THAT'S RUBBISH!" Fred roared. George seemed to agree, "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING!"

However, Dumbledore ignored them as he simply raised a hand to the Hall again, and spoke calmly, "Now,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.

Cries of "They can't do that!" and "That won't stop me!" echoed through the entrance hall as students make their way to their common rooms.

Well... this year should be interesting.

━━ AUTHORS NOTE

How are we liking GoF? This was sort of a filler chapter but, I promise, this is where everything starts to get interesting! Tell me your thoughts!

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