"So!" said Dumbledore, standing up once the feast had concluded. "Now that we're all fed and watered, I would like to request your attention while I give out a few notices. Firstly, allow me to introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher – Professor Snyde."

There was a scattering of applause in the Great Hall, in which quite a few students looked confused or amused (or both). Dumbledore then proceeded to speak of Mr Filch's updated list on forbidden objects, the Forbidden Forest being out-of-bounds to all students ("Well, duh," whispered Pansy), as well as Hogsmeade village being off-limits to all students below third year.

"On a more positive note," Dumbledore said, "it is my very great pleasure to announce that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"YOU'RE JOKING!" said Fred Weasley, causing much laughter around the Great Hall. Dumbledore tried to respond with an actual joke but was interrupted by Professor McGonagall clearing her throat.

"Er, but perhaps this is not the time," Dumbledore said. "Where was I? Ah, yes, the Triwizard Tournament ..."

And he gave a lengthy overview regarding the history and workings of the Tournament. But despite emphasising its dangers and its death toll, Dumbledore could do little to silence the growing buzz of excitement around the Great Hall. Many students were exchanging looks of eager anticipation, and were whispering in excited tones to one another.

"The Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders on the thirtieth of October," Dumbledore said, while the students were looking as excited as ever, "and the selection of the three champions will take place at Hallowe'en ..."

He continued to explain that an impartial judge would decide which students were most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money. But then he silenced the growing buzz of excitement by mentioning the age restriction on contenders this year, which caused an outburst of indignation from the crowd.

"This is a measure we feel is necessary," said Dumbledore, raising his voice over the livid crowd, "given that the Tournament's tasks will still be dangerous, regardless of the precautions we have taken. It is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to handle them. Hence I will personally ensure that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge," – he glanced in the direction of the Weasley twins – "and therefore urge you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen."

He then moved on to reminding the students to extend every courtesy to their foreign guests, as well as provide their wholehearted support to the Hogwarts champion.

"But now it is late," Dumbledore said, "and I would expect you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Off to bed! Chop chop!"

The looks of excitement that had swept across the house tables had been largely replaced by mutinous expressions. Wherever you looked, there were at least two people either complaining about the age restriction or conspiring to bypass it, and Harry's group was no different.

"I can't believe Father never told me," Draco said, as the fourth-years fell to the back of the group. They were making their way down the narrow stone staircase and into the dungeons. "Did he do it on purpose or something?"

Pansy laughed. "Would be funny if he did, though."

"So, what now?" Draco asked Harry. "There's got to be a way to enter. The old fool's not perfect."

At which the fourth-years got into a loud discussion regarding Dumbledore and his plans to stop the underage students. But try as they might, none of them could think of a way to enter the Triwizard Tournament.

"But surely they'd consider you, right?" Daphne asked Harry, as the group made their way through the labyrinthine passages of the dungeons. "After all, you did survive against a madman and a Basilisk!"

They all turned to look at Harry, who gave a slight sigh through his nose. He'd already told of his first- and second-year encounters over and over again, though he'd left out the Voldemort parts. "Dumbledore did most of the fighting, though. I just stood aside and watched."

Daphne furrowed her brows and stared at the ground ahead. "Then how else can we convince the judge to let you enter? Maybe you should just wreck Gryffindor in Quidditch."

"Yeah," said Pansy, nudging Harry in the side. "Just show off at the hoops, and who knows?"

Susan was quick to remind them that the first Quidditch match was scheduled for Saturday, the fifth of November.

"Then let's get it rescheduled!" said Daphne. "I wanna see Harry in the Triwizard Tournament!"

"And why's that?" Draco asked, looking somewhat offended. "I'd make a great champion too, for your information."

But Daphne wasn't impressed, and was quick to remind Draco that Harry had always been in the top two since their first year. Draco frowned.

"So? This could very well be my year, for all you know."

Vincent and Gregory were the only ones who agreed with him.

At last, the Slytherins reached the damp stretch of wall which concealed the entrance to their common room. They paused as the new set of prefects, Camilla Saxon and Everett Burke, gave the first-years some tips regarding the dungeon corridors. Then they spoke the new password – 'Pearl Dust'.

"Oooh, that's a nice password," said Daphne, smiling. "But can we hurry up already? I'm kinda sleepy."

A stone door concealed in the wall slid open. The Slytherins marched through it and into the long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling, from which there were round, greenish lamps hanging on chains. The fire was giving off its usual glow from within an elaborately carved mantelpiece up ahead.

"For those of you who may not know," said the tall, blond Prefect Burke, "the dormitories are through those doors at the far end of the room. Boys on the left, girls on the right. Once you're in, there'll be seven passages on the side. I'm sure you can figure out which one is which."

One of the first-year girls looked very nervous as she asked whether Professor Snape would be giving them a lecture on 'house rules and stuff'. Prefect Burke was quick to inform them that none of the Heads gave those kinds of lectures, and neither did the prefects.

"Sorry to burst your bubble," said the other fifth-year prefect, Camilla Saxon. She had long black hair, a sharp-featured face, and was about an inch or two shorter than Prefect Burke. "But now it's time for bed. No dawdling."

As for Harry, he felt his eyelids grow heavy as he looked around at the cozy common room. It didn't help that he'd been up for most of the night either studying his schoolwork or pondering two things which boggled his mind: the Death Eater riot, and a rather strange dream Harry had experienced a couple days before the World Cup final.

"What you staring at the fireplace for?" Harry heard Daphne ask ahead of him. "It's not gonna run away or anything. Goodnight, Harry."

At which Harry blinked and made his way towards the far end of the room, where he went through the door on his left.

"Fourth one, boys," Draco said in the long stretch of passage, which was lit by over a dozen torches. "Can't wait for the day we reach number seven."

"Hear, hear!" said Theodore on the right. "I wonder who'll be Head Boy then, though?"

Harry was about to state himself but ended up thinking about his dream instead. There was a darkened room with a snake on a hearth rug; the cold, high voice of Lord Voldemort, and two other people whom Harry didn't know. One of them was an old man who ended up being murdered, and the other was a very short man with small, watery eyes.

"Definitely not a Gryffindor," said Draco, at which he and the rest of Harry's roommates laughed. "God, I almost feel sorry for McGonagall, having to work with that lot."

Blaise was in stitches at that point. "Imagine having to choose between Weasley and friends for prefect!"

"Let's see ..." Draco rubbed his chin in an exaggerated manner. "There's a filthy blood-traitor whose rat abandoned him; a fat, near-Squib of a pure-blood, a dimwitted half-blood, and a Mudblood who's more interested in football than the noble sport of warlocks. What a shame."

They turned at the fourth passage on their left, and made their way through an emerald door marked with a large silver 'IV'. And if you were to be looking down from the ceiling, with the door at six o'clock, then Harry's four-poster bed was at one, Blaise's at three, Gregory's at five, Vincent's at seven, Draco's at nine, and Theodore's at eleven. Each of the students had their own personal bathroom through a door near their bed.

"Let me guess," said Draco, as Harry crossed the room while deep in thought. "You're planning for prefect, eh?"

"Probably, yeah."

Truth be told, Harry was more concerned over the fact that Voldemort could somehow wield a wand on his own. Worse, not even Dumbledore had a clear idea (or any idea, for that matter) of what was happening, despite Harry having informed him of the dream back at the Tonkses.

There's got to be an explanation for this. But what?

For a moment, Harry considered the possibility of Voldemort having regained his adolescent body. But that was impossible due to Harry having taken the diary straight to Dumbledore two years ago, back when Tom Riddle had shown Harry the Hagrid-memory (there was no way Harry believed Hagrid to be Myrtle Warren's murderer). After that, Harry revealed to Dumbledore that not only was Harry hearing voices in the walls, but that he'd also figured out way back in his first year that he was, in fact, a 'Parselmouth', after having read up on Salazar Slytherin.

The rest, of course, was history. Dumbledore destroyed the Basilisk but for some reason decided to keep some of its fangs (Harry shrugged it off as Dumbledore being Dumbledore again). And the best part was that nobody but Harry and Dumbledore knew that the former was a Parselmouth, which was perfectly fine by Harry.

"Er, I hope you don't take this the wrong way," Theodore told Harry, once they'd entered the large, circular dormitory-room, "but I'm aiming for prefect as well."

"Duh, we said so last year," said Draco, followed by Blaise nodding. "In fact, it's only Crabbe and Goyle that aren't interested."

Vincent shrugged. "We got better things to do than that. It's just a fancy badge and boring patrols and stuff."

Gregory agreed. "Yeah. The only fun part's giving out detentions and docking house points and stuff. But it's not worth the stress. Might as well enjoy school before we go to the real world."

But Harry wasn't in the mood for discussion, so he grabbed his pyjamas and went to freshen up in his bathroom. Then he shut his dark green hangings and tucked himself into bed.

Although the storm had blown itself out by the following morning, clouds of pewter grey remained swirling overhead as Harry and the others examined their new timetables at breakfast.

"Not bad," said Susan, running her finger down her timetable. "Herbology with the Ravenclaws, Astronomy Theory before lunch, and Defence Against the Dark Arts to end the week."

Harry felt a thrill of excitement in his chest. Merula Snyde had definitely left an impression on him back on the train.

"So, what happens next year, then?" Daphne asked, checking her calendar. "The first of September's on a Friday, I mean."

Susan gave a slight groan. This wasn't the first time she'd dealt with such a silly question from one of her roommates. "We wait two days until our first lesson, duh."

Minutes later, there was a sudden rustling noise above them as the owls came soaring in through the opened windows. They circled the tables while searching for their intended recipients, at which Harry and Draco received cakes and sweets from Mrs Tonks and Mrs Malfoy, respectively.

"She's doing this on purpose, isn't she?" Draco asked, with a derisive snort. "I guess my Mudblood-loving 'aunt' is just as much of a clown as her stupid daughter."

Susan frowned. "You know that 'stupid' daughter has recently become an Auror, right?"

"As if I care," said Draco, though Harry couldn't help grinning. Draco then looked at him and said, "Just tell the Mudblood-lover not to mock my mother again."

"You mean her sister, right?"

Draco shook his head and repeated what he'd said more than a few times last year. "We don't count people who disgrace themselves. My only aunt's in jail."

At which Harry finished his porridge and got up from the table. His annoyance with Draco's words lasted all the way across the sodden vegetable path, until they arrived at greenhouse three along with the Ravenclaws. But here Harry was distracted by a rather messy lesson on the slug-like Bubotubers, which gave off thick, yellowish-green liquid that smelled strongly of petrol.

"God, that was disgusting," said Pansy, once the bell had rang and they were crossing the lawn back towards the castle. "Can't wait to ditch Herbology."

Their next lesson, Astronomy Theory, was given by the often-stern Professor Sinistra. She had little patience for foolishness and slacking off, though Harry had long since forced himself to keep his performance above seventy per cent, at the least.

"You know what?" he told Pansy after class. "I'm not sure I'll be taking Astronomy to the N.E.W.T.s."

Pansy shook her head. "Herbology's worse. At least Sinistra doesn't get crap on my clothes."

"How about you both drop your complaints?" said Susan, coming up from behind along with Tracey. "It's only day one, for goodness sake."

Pansy turned away from Susan. "How about you get your auntie to bend the rules for us, huh? Throw that 'impartial' judge in jail if they don't let us enter the Tournament."

Susan ignored the remark, though Tracey didn't.

"Grow up already," Tracey said, narrowing her eyes behind her oval glasses. "You keep making the same auntie-comments year in and year out."

"Blah, blah, blah." Pansy placed her hands over her ears. "I can't hear you."

Tracey rolled her eyes.

Harry was looking forward to Merula's first lesson so much that he stuffed himself in a hurry at lunch, and made haste to her classroom on the first floor. Here he pulled out a supplementary Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook and began revising whatever he could, to the point where he hardly noticed the student who'd come to stand against the wall a few feet away.

Gotta make sure I don't make a fool of myself in class.

But when Harry failed to recognise the nail polish he was smelling, he looked up and almost jumped (again) upon seeing none other than Merula. She was wearing plain black robes just like a student (again) and was watching Harry with a look of amusement on her face.

"Why are you cramming right before my class, Harry?"

Harry shut his textbook and gave a guilty little grin. "What? I'm not cramming."

"Sure. And I'm Lord Voldemort."

And that was when Harry suddenly remembered something which had slipped his mind last night. "You're not afraid of saying his name?"

Merula shrugged and told Harry to enter the classroom. It looked pretty much the same as last year, except for the pictures which Merula had hung up around the room. They depicted various injuries inflicted on people over the years, but were thankfully just drawings.

"What do you think caused that one?" Merula asked Harry, as he sat down at the front and stared at a picture depicting a useless husk of a person.

"Dementor," Harry said without a doubt. He'd read up on those foul things quite enough already. "That's what happens when someone either gets the Kiss, or when they're too worn down from staying in Azkaban."

"Correct," said Merula, though she was hardly smiling. "Ten points to Slytherin. It sucks when people make the wrong choices and leave their kids on their own."

Huh? But before Harry could make sense of Merula's words, the rest of the Slytherins arrived and took their usual seats. Merula then summoned a roll of parchment and began taking the register, after which she got started on her introduction lecture.

"All right," she said, once Blaise had declared himself present, "I've spoken to Mrs Tonks about this class, and it seems you've had a decent grounding in Dark creatures and some spells. Is that right?"

They all agreed.

"She did her best to fix Lockhart's rubbish," Harry said. Merula smiled.

"Don't even get me started on that fool. I wonder what he's doing these days?" (Nobody cared, so Merula carried on as well.) "Anyway, you're still a bit behind when it comes to the nasty stuff like curses, so I'll be taking things from there later on. Not sure how long I'm staying because, well ... I'm pretty sure this post is jinxed or something."

"What? Can't you fix it?" Draco said, with a challenging expression. "Aren't you supposed to be defending us – and yourself – from the Dark Arts?"

"Hey! Don't be rude!" said Daphne through her teeth. But Merula simply smiled.

"It's OK. He hasn't changed that much since he was that little kid who spilled paint in the courtyard."

They all laughed at Draco, who went slightly red in the cheeks and looked down at his desk.

"So!" said Merula, clapping her hands together. "I was thinking we'd kick things off with a raffle. I've got a bag with ten topics in it, and you're each going to write me a foot-long essay on whatever you get."

Everyone but Harry complained.

"Typical." Merula snorted with laughter. "You kids just hear 'essay' and you're up in arms already. It's not even that long, to be honest. I could make it two to three feet, if I wanted."

"No, please don't!" said Pansy, with a pleading expression on her face. "We'll take the foot!"

But Merula shook her head. "Two at least. That's what you get for moaning like slackers."

So with that in mind, nobody said a word as Merula waved her wand and summoned a small sack of dark-green silk. She then called up each of the students and made them reach into the sack in order to retrieve a small piece of parchment.

"Right," Merula said once the last student had returned to their seat. "I want each of you to state what you've got."

One by one, the students read their topics out loud for the others to hear. The list was pretty much: Susan – werewolves, Vincent – two hexes of his choice, Tracey – Dementors, Gregory – two jinxes of his choice, Daphne – Basilisks, Draco – Muggle-baiting, Theodore – Lethifolds, Pansy – a curse or two of her choice, Harry – Azkaban, and Blaise – three types of trolls.

"Now then," said Merula, standing at the front of the class, "let's start off with the basics of hex deflection. Can anyone tell me what's the difference between that and the Shield Charm?"

Harry raised his hand and said that the average Shield Charm was best suited to various jinxes, whereas the hex deflector (obviously) focused on hexes. Then there was the fact that the Shield Charm was often much harder to cast, though Merula stopped him there.

"Don't steal my whole lecture," she said, looking amused. "Ten points to Slytherin for that answer."

And she carried on by giving an overview on hex deflection, followed by teaching them the spell in question. It was a fairly complicated bit of spellwork that required a full period of theory first, after which Merula had the students spread out and attempt to deflect the hexes thrown at them. By the end of the lesson, only Harry left the classroom unharmed, while the others stood in line to have their hex effects removed by Merula.

"Don't forget to have those essays ready by next Friday," Merula said, after removing her Knee-Reversing Hex which had hit Daphne. "No excuses."

Harry wasted no time in heading straight to the library after class. He knew that Merula had set these essays as a means to gauge the students' willingness to write, and their overall interest in Defence Against the Dark Arts, so he took it as a chance to really prove his worth. He kicked things off by explaining that the fortress had existed since the fifteenth century and was originally owned by a Dark wizard named Ekrizdis, who lured unsuspecting sailors into his home and tortured them.

What a creep.

From there on, Harry carried on with the history lesson until turning his attention to more interesting matters – the current inmates themselves. He listed their names on a scroll of parchment and shut his eyes as he chose two at random. And when Harry opened his eyes, he found it rather strange (and funny) that he'd ended up leaving an ink dot on 'Bellatrix Lestrange' and 'Sirius Black', both of whom were related to Draco and Mrs Tonks.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much to write about Sirius Black. Harry had heard about him on occasion but could find little more than the fact that Black was a mass murderer and a spy for Voldemort. So Harry chose to focus more on Bellatrix Lestrange as he spent the remainder of his afternoon in the library.