Author's note: I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thanks for reading.

Warnings: swearing

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I referenced pages 153, 157-158, and 162-167 Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire while writing this.

The Arrival of Mad-Eye Moody

Forget the Dark Lord, Dumbledore was , he hired Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody to teach Defence—ignoring Severus's application again—and then, he informed them that the god damn Triwizard Tournament would be held at Hogwarts this year, and would they please review this list of things that needed to be done to help make sure things ran smoothly.

"No, I will not review your fucking list," Severus had snarked, to the disapproving looks of his colleagues. "As if we don't have enough work—as if I don't have enough work!"

"Why don't we talk later, Severus?" Dumbledore had said, infuriatingly calm as always, and moved on to the next order of business.

Now, everyone was assembled in the Great Hall, waiting for the arrival of the rugrats and the start of another year. Severus was seated beside Aurora Sinistra and a couple places away from the empty space reserved for Mad-Eye Moody, Minerva and Dumbledore filling the gap. Thank Merlin for small mercies, he thought. He had no desire to sit beside Moody and listen to him harp all evening about how Severus would get his comeuppance and how hopefully Moody would be the one to give it to him. The old Auror never had trusted him, trusted him even less than he trusted most people, and the feeling was mutual.

Of course, this wasn't an issue when Moody wasn't even present. Severus had heard he'd made a big fuss about an intruder in his home that morning. He hoped the peg-legged bastard had fallen down his staircase and was in a coma in St. Mungo's. Maybe he wouldn't see the man at all tonight. Wouldn't that be a blessing?

Severus schooled his face into its customary scowl as the sounds of commotion came from the Entrance Hall. Caught up in his musings, he hadn't notice Minerva get up from the table. She was yelling at Peeves, who appeared to be in possession of a large supply of water balloons.

"Already wet, aren't they? Little squirts! Wheeeeee!"

He has a point, Severus conceded, smirking slightly. It was only entertaining because it was not his problem to deal with. Merlin knows I want to throw things at the brats on a regular basis.

Once the poltergeist had been chased away, the group of children trudged into the Hall. Lighting flashed on the ceiling above. Severus thought that they probably couldn't get much wetter if the ceiling could produce rain and drenched them where they stood. A simple drying spell would have been useful and was certainly accessible enough to any student in third year or above, but of course, none of them thought of that.

Minerva shortly returned, followed this time by a bunch of first-years, who looked as though they'd swum across the lake, rather than sailing. In front of them she placed the three-legged stool and the Sorting Hat, which launched into its song as per usual. The Great Hall rang with applause as the Hat finished. Severus contributed two slow, sardonic claps.

The sorting went on for what felt like an eternity. It seemed longer this year, or maybe Severus just had less patience than usual. He wondered if banging his head against the table would be frowned upon.

When the last student was finally sorted and Minerva took the stool and Hat away, Dumbledore stood up. Severus braced himself for something stupid to come out of the old codger's mouth and was pleasantly surprised when all the Headmaster said was, "I have only two words to say to you: Tuck in."

Severus looked around the Hall as he absently served himself some Yorkshire pudding and poured a cup of tea. At the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy was recounting some tale to his year-mates with an arrogant smirk on his face, Pansy Parkinson hanging on to his every word. Crabbe and Goyle contributed to the conversation by nodding occasionally between bites of food. The Prefects were already filling the first-years in on what was expected of them as a member of Slytherin House.

At the Gryffindor table, Severus's eye went straight to Potter and his group. Granger was having a fit about something, turning her face away from the table in righteous anger and refusing to eat her dinner. Severus bit back a snort. He couldn't even bring himself to wonder what she was on her soapbox about now, although it seemed a little early in the year to already be throwing sanctimonious tantrums.

When dinner and dessert had finally been consumed and the last of the crumbs had faded off the plates, Dumbledore got to his feet. "So!" he said brightly. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention while I give out a few notices."

The usual warning about contraband and the forbidden nature of the Forbidden Forest ensued, followed by an uproar as Dumbledore announced that the Quidditch Cup would not be taking place. It gave Severus a sense of satisfaction to see the outrage and disappointment on Potter's face, especially knowing that Potter would not be able to participate in the activity replacing Quidditch.

"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-"

A deafening rumble of thunder interrupted him, and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

Moody stood in the doorway, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall turned towards the old Auror, who was suddenly illuminate by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out his mane of grizzled hair, and then began to walk up towards the teachers' table. The only sound was the dull clunk of his wooden leg echoing through the room.

"I didn't expect you until tomorrow, what with the disturbance earlier," Dumbledore commented he and Moody shook hands. "Are you quite sure you are all right?"

"What a question," Moody grunted, shaking his head. "But yes, I'm fine, fine. Hungry, though."

At this, Dumbledore nodded and gestured to the empty seat beside him. Moody sat and pulled a plate of sausages towards him, lifting it to his nose and sniffing. The man was suspicious as ever. Severus refrained from rolling his eyes. He wondered if Moody had planned his entrance. It had certainly been dramatic enough. What would the man have done, Severus wondered, if there hadn't happened to be a storm to help set the mood?

"May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," said Dumbledore brightly, "Professor Moody."

There was brief, lonely applause from the Headmaster and Hagrid. Moody, meanwhile, removed a silver hipflask from his side and took a long drink from it.

"So he's crazy, paranoid, and drunk," Severus muttered.

"Severus," Minerva hissed disapprovingly from his side.

Dumbledore cleared his throat again.

"As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, although Severus didn't think any of them were paying attention to the Headmaster, "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!" exclaimed one of the Weasley twins. Severus wondered if he could get close enough to Moody without being hexed to ask if he could have a swig of whatever was in that flask. Alcohol sounded good right about now. If Moody could get away with being inebriated in the presence of children, why shouldn't he?

The rest of the Hall broke out with laughter.

"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," said Dumbledore, "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-"

Minerva cleared her throat loudly.

"Er – but maybe this is not the time, no... Where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament…"

Dumbledore preceded to explain the inner workings of the Triwizard Tournament and how its resurrection came about. Personally, Severus thought it was as terrible an idea as it ever was, even with the age restriction they were introducing, but his opinion didn't count. And the children, it appeared, missed the part about death tolls and dangerous tasks, only considering the notoriety they'd gain by winning it.

Needless to say, when Dumbledore told them that only of-age students would be allowed to put their names in the Cup, there was a roar of upset.

"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October, and remaining with us for the greater part of this year," continued Dumbledore once he had subdued most of the rumblings. "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!"

Before Severus could remove himself from the table, Minerva turned to him with a smirk on her face.

"Two galleons says the Weasley twins will try to enter and end up sporting Dumbledore-esque beards," she said. "What do you want to bet against me?"

Severus snorted. "I'm not betting against you, you crazy witch, I'd obviously lose this one." He paused. "Is that what Dumbledore has done to the cup? Enchanted it to give any miscreants beards like his?"

"It was my idea," said Minerva smugly, and Severus rolled his eyes. That explained it. She wanted to get in a little gloating before they all dispersed for the night.

"Hilarious," he deadpanned. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go explain to my first years why Slytherin is clearly the superior house…"

"Hilarious," Minerva quoted back mockingly.

Dumbledore and Moody were still in conversation when Severus walked away, but out of his periphery, he saw Moody's magical eye swing around and watch him leave the Hall.