By the time all of the students had arrived in the Entrance Hall, the floor was sopping wet and they were all soaked through to the skin.
"Blimey." Ron said, shaking his head and sendong water everywhere. "If that keeps up the Lake's going to overflow. I'm soaked."
They slipped and slid their way 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 was decorated as beautifully as it always was for the start-of-term feast; golden plates and goblets shone with the light from the candles above.
"I hope the Sorting's over soon, I'm starving." Harry grumbled as they sat down at the Gryffindor table. He took off his shoe and tipped upside down - water trickled from inside it, leaving a puddle beneath his feet.
"Where's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor?" Hermione asked, surveying the empty seats at the teachers table.
"I'll bet whoever it is makes some sort of dramatic entrance. That seems to be the running theme here." Bella said.
"Oh, hurry up." Ron moaned. "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 they were wet, it was nothing to how these first-years looked. They appeared to have swum across the lake rather than sailing. 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 mousey hair, who was wrapped in Hagrid's large 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. Colin Creevey was a boy in Ginny's year, in Gryffindor, who absolutely idolised Harry. He would usually follow him around, taking pictures of him and asking him for his autograph. Colin was a Muggle-born and had been one of the people petrified back in their second year; leading Harry to try and be nicer to the sweet, yet irritating boy.
They watched the Sorting pass at an agonizingly slow pace. Ron muttered that he was starving every other second and Bella could hear the people all around her whispering and giggling about her misfortune on the train.
"I could kill you." She mouthed to Fred and George further down the table and they batted their eyelids at her, giving her their most innocent look.
The last first year was sorted into Ravenclaw and Ron's face lit up with glee.
"About time." he said, seizing his knife and fork and looking expectantly at his golden plate.
"Is that all you think about?" Bella asked.
"Pretty much." Ron replied.
Professor Dumbledore stood to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide in welcome.
"I only have two words to say to you." he told them, his voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."
"Hear, hear!" Harry and Ron said loudly as the empty dishes filled in front of them.
"Aaah, 'at's be'er." Ron said, with his mouth full of mashed potato.
"Has he always been this uncivilised?" Hermione asked, wrinkling her nose in disgust.
"Yep." Bella replied with a chuckle, loading her own plate with all her favourites.
"You're lucky there's a feast at all tonight, you know." Nearly Headless Nick said as hs head appeared in the bowl of mashed potatoes. "There was trouble in the kitchens earlier."
"Why? Wha' 'appened?" Harry said, his mouth entirely full.
"Peeves, of course." Nearly Headless Nick replied, shaking his head, which wobbled dangerously. He pulled his ruff a little higher up his neck. "The usual argument, you know. He wanted to attend the feast – well, it's quite out of the question, you know what he's like, utterly uncivilised, can't see a plate of food without throwing it. We held a ghosts' council – the Fat Friar was all for giving him the chance – but most wisely, in my opinion, the Bloody Baron put his foot down." The Bloody Baron was the Slytherin ghost, a gaunt and silent spectre covered in silver bloodstains. He was the only person at Hogwarts who could really control Peeves.
"So what did he do in the kitchens?" Ron asked.
"Oh, the usual." Nearly Headless Nick said with a shrug. '"Wreaked havoc and mayhem. Pots and pans everywhere. Place swimming in soup. Terrified the house-elves out of their wits –"
There was a loud clatter. Hermione had knocked over her golden goblet. Pumpkin juice spread steadily over the tablecloth, staining several feet of white linen orange, but Hermione paid no attention.
"There are house-elves here?" she said, staring, horror-struck, at Nearly Headless Nick. "Here at Hogwarts?"
"Certainly." Nearly Headless Nick said, looking surprised at her reaction. "The largest number in any dwelling in Britain, I believe. Over a hundred."
"I've never seen one!" Hermione said.
"Well, they hardly ever leave the kitchen by day, do they?' said Nearly Headless Nick. 'They come out at night to do a bit of cleaning … see to the fires and so on … I mean, you're not supposed to see them, are you? That's the mark of a good house-elf, isn't it, that you don't know it's there?" Hermione stared at him.
Bella and Freya looked at each other. Silently they decided it was best they didn't admit they knew the House Elves were in the kitchens, they'd never hear the end of it from Hermione.
"But they get paid?" she said. "They get holidays, don't they? And – and sick leave, and pensions and everything?"N
early Headless Nick chortled so much that his ruff slipped and his head flopped off, dangling on the inch or so of ghostly skin and muscle that still attached it to his neck.
"Sick leave and pensions?" he said, pushing his head back onto his shoulders and securing it once more with his ruff. "House-elves don't want sick leave and pensions!" Hermione looked down at her hardly touched plate of food, then put her knife and fork down upon it and pushed it away from her.
"Oh, c'mon, 'Er-my-knee." Ron said, bits of Yorkshire pudding flying out of his mouth. He swallowed. "You won't get them sick leave by starving yourself!"
"Slave labour." Hermione said, breathing hard through her nose. "That's what made this dinner. Slave labour."
And she refused to eat another bite. 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, Hermione!" Ron said, deliberately wafting its smell towards her. "Spotted dick, look! Chocolate gateau!"
"Mum would understnad if you murdered him, Hermione." Bella said.
"Hey!" Ron cried.
Hermione gave him a look so reminiscent of Professor McGonagall that he gave up. When the puddings, too, had been demolished, and the last crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them sparkling clean, Dumbledore got to his feet again. The buzz of chatter filling the 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." (Hermione harrumphed at his statement), "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 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."
"As ever," he continued. "I would like to remind you all that the Forest in 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?" Harry gasped.
Fred and George were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, speechless for the first time in their life.
Dumbledore continued 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 towards Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling. Hermione gasped. The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief. Bella knew the second she saw him that this was the man her father and brothers always talked about, this was the legendary Alastor Moody.
Every inch of skin on his face seemed to be scarred. His mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of his nose was missing. But it was definitely his 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. Moody reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words they couldn't hear. He seemed to be making some enquiry of Moody, 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. He 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 silence. "Professor Moody."
"So that's Mad-Eye Moody." Ron breathed.
"I think the name speaks for itself now." Bella added.
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?" Freya whispered.
"He looks in a right state." Emily said.
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. 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 honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event which 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 – 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 with each other, and Bella, along with the others, was far more interested in hearing more 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 have been very successful. However, our own Departments of International Magical Co-operation 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 on 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 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 visualising themself as Hogwarts champion. At every house table, they could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else whispering fervently to their neighbours. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quietened 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 both Fred and George 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 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 towards the double doors into the Entrance Hall.
"They can't do that!" George cried, who had not joined the crowd moving towards 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." Fred said 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." Ron said, a faraway look on his face. "Yeah, a thousand Galleons..."
"If you two die, can I have your bedroom?" Bella asked, but neither Fred nor George even crakced a smile - they were still glaring up at the top table.
Hermione stubbornly ushered them from the hall, Fred and George walked along behidn them debating ways in which Dumbledore might stop those who were under seventeen entering the Tournament. Bella tuned out their grumbling as tehy climbed the marble staircase. While they were plotting ways in which they could hoodwink this 'impartial judge', Bella was thinking how she was going to get away after curfew.
Once they were in the Gryffinfor common room, they bid each other a good night and headed off to their respective dormitories. Lavander and Parvati were already getting changed for bed and Lavender scowled across the room at Bella. She scoffed, rolling her eyes at Lavender as she crossed the dorm into the bathroom.
Bella changed quickly and climbed into bed with a quick goodnight to Freya, Hermione and Emily. She pulled the hangings around her bed and lay, waiting. After about twenty minutes, the shallow breathing of her dorm mates indicated to Bella that they were all asleep.
She crept slowly out of bed, pulled on her jumper and shoes and left the dorm as quietly as she could. She took the thickest textbook she could find and used it to prop open the Fat Lady's portrait, hoping she wouldn't have to wake her when she returned.
The Hogwarts corridors were eerily silent, save for the soft sounds of Bella's footfalls, that echoed around the silent castle. When she finally made it to the Entrance Hall, there was no one in sight - she couldn't even hear Draco breathing.
"Draco?" she whispered, stepping down the last step on the marble staircase and looking around the deserted Entrance Hall. "Draco, are you here?"
She heard a quiet chuckle from the entrance to the dungeons and she turned to see Draco leaning against the wall, his arms crossed against his chest.
"I was beginning to think you weren't coming." he said, pushing himself off of the wall.
"I had to wait for everyone to go to sleep first." Bella replied, crossing the Entrance Hall.
"Come on," Draco said.
He took her hand in his and began to lead her down the stairs to the dungeons. Bella felt an odd sensation in the pit of her stomach and couldn't figure out what it was. His hands felt nice, unlike she had expected his hands to feel. They were soft and warm, though not too warm to be sweaty. She should have known he would have soft hands, he is a Malfoy, after all.
They passed Snape's quarters and the Slytherin common room and yet he still kept a tight grip on her hand, leading her further into the dungeons. Now, anyone else would not willingly go into the Hogwarts dungeons with a Slytherin, Draco Malfoy none-the-less, but Bella felt safe. She knew he wouldn't lead her into danger. He lit his wand the further up the corridor they went and eventually they could barely see beyond the narrow beam of light coming from the tip of his wand.
They reached the end of the corridor and Draco dropped his hold on her hand. Bella felt the loss immediately and craced the feeling of his hand on hers again. She shook her head physically, trying to dislodge those thoughts.
"Are you okay?" Draco asked, looking at her strangely.
"Yeah - there was a fly or something." Bella said, swatting the air in front of her face.
Draco shook his head at her and chuckled softly. Bella looked around her and saw they were standing in front of a row of maybe three or four cells. They all had thick iron bars and shackles were chained to the walls inside.
"How cool is this." Draco said.
"I didn't know they were here." Bella said.
"Neither did I until my father told me." Draco said. "I don't think anyone else knows they're here."
"Probably not." Bella agreed.
"Since no one knows they're here, I thought it would be a good place to talk." Draco said, turning to look at her.
"I suppose." Bella said.
Draco slid to the floor against the wall opposite the dungeons cells and Bella sat on the floor beside him but facing him instead of the cells.
"So, what really happened at the World Cup?" Draco asked. "I read what that leech, Rita Skeeter, wrote in the Daily Prophet."
"Obviously that's a lot of rubbish." Bella said. "What do you know about what happened at the World Cup?"
"All I know is that the Dark Mark was cast. Father wouldn't tell me a thing and I left with Mother soon after I saw you." Draco said.
"Yeah, the Dark Mark was cast, with Harry's wand." Bella said.
"Potter's wand? But, Potter didn't cast it?" Draco said, creasing his eyebrows in thought.
"No." Bella said. "Harry's wand was found in the hands of Mr Crouch's house-elf, Winky, but she clearly didn't do it. Thye don't seem to believe that though."
"You sound angry about that." Draco commented.
"I am!" Bella said. "They were horrible to her. She was terrified out of her wits and still they relentlessly questioned her, well I say they, more Amos Diggory. It was a man that cast the Dark Mark, I'm sure of it."
"How do you know that?" Draco asked.
"Because we heard it." Bella replied. "After we ran into you, we kept running until we came across a clearing. It was silent there and we heard someone staggering towards us. Harry tried to see who it was but it was too dark. There was a lot of noises like branches snapping and stuff and then the man cast the spell, it was definitely a man's voice. We tried to run but the Ministry people came and attacked us. Who knows what would have happened if we hadn't ducked!"
"What happened after that?" Draco asked.
"Dad came and told them it was us and not to fire. Mr Crouch accused us of casting the spell, but obviously it wasn't. Hermione told them where the spell had come from and Diggory ran off. He came back with Winky and Harry's wand and then it just went from there." Bella said.
"You weren't hurt, were you?" Draco asked.
"No, thankfully." Bella replied. "I did nearly lose my dad his job though."
"Why?" Draco asked.
"Well, me and Hermione were shouting at Mr Crouch because he was vile towards Winky."
Draco laughed and Bella looked at him as though he had just slapped her across the face.
"It's not funny!" she said.
"You really shouted at Mr Crouch?" Draco asked.
"Yes!"
"Oh, I wish I'd seen that." Draco chuckled.
"Oh, shut up." Bella replied, swatting his arm.
"I'm glad you weren't hurt though." Draco said.
Bella smiled at him in response. They heard a shuffling noise from deeper within the dungeons and both of them shot to their feet. Draco pointed his wand into the darkness but it was useless, they couldn't see a thing.
"Come on." Draco said, taking her hand in his again and pulling her away from the dungeons.
They walked quickly to the Entrance Hall and Draco followed her up the steps to the Entrance Hall.
"You don't have to come with me." Bella said. "I'll be fine."
"I'm not leaving you to walk back by yourself." Draco said.
"Draco." Bella chuckled. "Go back to bed. I'll be okay."
"But -"
"Draco, please." Bella said.
Draco sighed. "Fine, okay. Get back safe."
"Stop worrying." Bella chuckled. "In case you're forgetting, I throw a mean punch."
"How could I ever forget?" Draco said.
Bella smiled softly. She left him at the top of the steps and hurried, as quickly as she could without making too much noise, back to Gryffindor Tower. Her textbook was still wedged between the portrait and the wall and she removed it slowly, breathing a sigh of relief when the Fat Lady didn't stir. She climbed the stairs and entered her dorm quietly. All the occupants of the room were still sleeping and Bella crawled into bed with a small smile on her lips.
