The students trudged into the Great Hall soaking wet—even wetter as Peeves the Poltergeist had bombarded some of them with water balloons as they entered. "Why don't they just kick him out?" Dean said, furiously as he wrung water out of his hat.

The Great Hall was warmer. It looked splendid, lit by hundreds of floating candles. Dudley, Dean, Ron, Hermione and Neville trudged over to the Gryffindor table and grabbed some empty seats. Fred and George were already there, deep in a hushed conversation with Lee Jordan. Dudley suspected they were already planning some mischief or another.

"Good evening!" Nearly-Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost said, cheerfully.

"Not really," Dudley muttered, irritably. He was soaking wet and in a bad mood because of it. Across from him, Hermione was emptying her shoes of water.

Ginny and Colin Creevey arrived with their little group of friends. Colin was telling anyone who would listen about his brother starting Hogwarts too. "I expect he'll be in Gryffindor too, right?" he said hopefully to Ginny. "I mean all your family was in."

"Not necessarily," Hermione said. "The Patil twins are in separate houses, and Roger Davies from Ravenclaw's sister is in Slytherin."

Colin looked crestfallen at that. Dudley hoped that Colin's brother would be sorted elsewhere. Colin annoyed him. It was part of the reason Dudley had made Colin's first year at Hogwarts such a misery.

Dudley looked up at the staff table. There was Hagrid, as large as ever, drinking a giant flagon of mead. He looked especially huge today as he was sitting next to tiny Professot Flitwick. Dudley enjoyed Hagrid's class, Care of Magical Creatures. It was his best subject by far. There was an empty seat and Dudley felt a pang of guilt. Last year that seat would have been occupied by Professor Lupin, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher who had secretly been a werewolf. He had died alst year—Professor Snape had killed him to protect Dudley and his friends. Dudley had tried to fix things with Hermione's time turner, but interference by Theodore Nott had messed that up.

Speaking of Nott, Dudley hadn't heard what happened to him. He had expected it to appear in the Daily Prophet that he had been sentenced to Azkaban for using an unforgiveable curse, but there was nothing. Dudley supposed the trial was taking longer than usual since Nott had been underage. Mr. Weasley had mentioned in passing over the summer that it was the first time ever an underage student had used an unforgiveable curse.

Dudley looked over at Snape, he was looking even moodier than ever. Dudley couldn't blame him. He had been bitten savagely by the werewolf formed Lupin, which Dudley supposed would make anybody grumpy.

"There isn't a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," Dean commented.

Dudley had noticed Lupin's empty seat, but hadn't cottoned on to the fact a new teacher was missing. "Maybe Snape's got the job now?" he suggested.

"I hope not," Dean said, darkly.

"Nah, there would still be a new teacher wouldn't there—to fill in for potions," Ron pointed out.

"Maybe they couldn't get anyone," Hermione said, anxiously. "You know, after what happened to Professor Lupin."

"Hope they hurry up," Ron muttered. "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 Dudley, Neville, Dean, Ron, and Hermione 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 Dudley recognized as Hagrid's moleskin overcoat. The coat was so big for him that it hooked as though he were draped in a furry black circus tent. 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 fin.

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.

"Now, can we eat?" Ron muttered, and Dudley heard his friend's stomach growl.

"Sounds like a lion," Neville muttered and they all suppressed giggles.

They watched the sorting impatiently. Dudley sighed when Dennis Creevey was made a Gryffindor. If he was anything like Colin, he would be very annoying. Already he was talking rapidly, telling Colin about falling in the lake and a tentacle pushing him out.

"Wish it ate him," Dudley muttered to Dean who grinned.

"About time," Ron said, when the final student, Kevin Whitby, was sorted into Hufflepuff. He gazed expectantly at his plate, but instead Dumbledore stood up. Ron swore.

'Tut tut, Ronniekins," Fred said. "Mum would hex your tongue if she heard you talking like that."

"Don't know where he gets it from," said George. "Certainly not us."

They quietened down—McGonagall was shooting daggers at the Gryffindor table.

"I have only two words to say to you," Dumbledore told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."

"Brilliant," Ron said, piling food on his plate with reckless abandon as a variety of different dishes appeared on their plates.

While Ron stuffed his plate with anything and everything, Dudley, mindful of his diet which he still planned on sticking to, picked shepherd's pie, carrots and roast potatoes.

Once the feast was over, Dumbledore got to his feet. Instantly the chatter stopped.

"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."

"What?" Dudley heard Ron gasp. Fred and George 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 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 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. Hermione gasped.

The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any Dudley had ever 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.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbhedore shook it, muttering words Dudley couldn't hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to 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."

It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students chapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who 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.

"Moody?" Dudley muttered to Ron. "Mad-Eye Moody? The one your dad went to help this morning?"

"Must be," said Ron in a low, awed voice.

"What happened to him?" Hermione whispered. "What happened to his face?"

"Dunno," Ron whispered back, watching Moody with fascination.

"Wasn't he a dark wizard catcher?" said Dean. "You don't think Death Eaters did it to him?"

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

"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!" said Fred Weasley 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 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."

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."

"Death toll?" Hermione 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 Dudley 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.

"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."

"I'm going for it!" Fred Weasley 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, Dudley 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 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 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. 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.

"They can't do that!" said George Weasley, who had not joined the crowd moving toward the door, but was standing up and glaring at Dumbledore. "We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?"

"They're not stopping me entering," said Fred stubbornly, also scowling at the top table. "The champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!"

"Yeah," said Ron, a faraway look on his face. "Yeah, a thousand Galleons..."

"I'm going for it," Dudley whispered to his friends. "Imagine the glory we'd get if we won! This must have been what Lockhart and the others were talking about."

"How?" said Dean. "If Dumbledore's gonna try and stop people."

"Reckon your invisibility cloak would work?" Ron whispered.

"Dunno," Dudley said. Nearby, Fred and George were discussing using an aging potion to fool the judges. "It's worth a shot though."

"People have died, though!" said Hermione in a worried voice as they walked through a door concealed behind a tapestry and started up another, narrower staircase.

"Yeah," said Fred airily, "but that was years ago, wasn't it? Anyway, where's the fun without a bit of risk? Hey, Ron, what if we find out how to get 'round Dumbledore? Fancy entering?"

"We were just saying, we might use my old cloak," Dudley said.

Fred grinned. "Excellent—I knew you wouldn't let the side down. We'll try the invisibility potion, you lot can try the cloak. See which one works."

"You up for it, Neville?" Dudley asked.

"I dunno if we've learnt enough, I expect Gran will want me to enter though," Neville said.

"I'm definitely going for it," Dudley said. "It would be amazing to win."

He could almost see it now, Albus Dumbledore lifting his arm aloft, announcing "And the winner of the Triwizard Tournament is … Dudley Dursley!" Adding more galleons to his already large pile of galleons. Getting on the front page of the Daily Prophet. Being asked to give interviews and talks about the tournament. Receiving mounds of fan letters the way Lockhart did.

Lockhart always said Dudley had what it took to be famous, and Dudley felt that winning the Triwizard Tournament on top of what he had achieved so far would catapult him right to the top. Plus there was the respect he would get from the rest of Hogwarts by winning the trophy for the school.