I wasn't very satisfied with the chapter at first: originally, it lapsed back into the unsatisfying open end that I tended to use as a crutch. Pretty much the last 600 words were tirelessly rewritten: hopefully, you'll find them to your liking!
Scott took his usual seat beside me in the Great Hall. The long tables, laden with dishes of every imaginable kind as always, were garnished with house-coloured tablecloths and a carpet had been rolled down the main aisle. Scott idly fingered his badge as he eyed the staff table. There were a couple of empty seats.
"Who do you think is going to be our new Defence teacher?" Beatrix Derby asked. The other Slytherin girls around her loudly speculated the identity of the unfortunate witch or wizard,and Scott rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
Henry Figg leaned in, elbows poking into my spot at the table. "At the rate we're running through teachers, we might as well start hiring Aurors." He chuckled at his own joke, only to be shushed loudly by John Baker, the seventh-year Slytherin prefect. The main doors swung open, and the constant buzz of chatter from each table stopped. McGonagall was leading a long trail of first years into the hall: they were all drenched in water. It seemed there had been a slight accident with the boats. As they lined up to get sorted, I caught the eye of a quivering boy. His blue eyes reflected nothing but anxiety, and I found myself giving him a forced smile.
McGonagall produced a stool, placing the Sorting Hat onto it. There was a collective silence from everyone gathered, as we awaited a new song from the Hat. In a few moments, it spoke, its gravelly voice filling the Hall.
"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,"
Figg nudged me. "At least the song rhymes this time." I laughed along with him.
"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."
It was the same content, just phrased differently. Now would come the part where each house's virtues were described...
"By Gryffindor, the bravest were
Prized far beyond the rest;" Lucian Bole snorted.
"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." There were collective nods amongst our table, with the occasional frown from a disapproving student. The Hat had been created by Godric Gryffindor, after all.
"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 song remained mostly the same. Still, the second years seemed surprised at the revision of the musical piece, while the first years were completely awed, breaking out in loud whispers. The muggleborns in particularly would be the most surprised, it being one of their first times in a magical location: a singing hat surely added to their sense of wonderment.
When the song had ended, McGonagall quickly got the first years to line up, and the Sorting Hat was placed on a trembling Stewart Ackerly. He was whisked off to Ravenclaw, where a collective round of cheers broke out.
Malcolm Baddock was next. There was already a fierce cunning in his eyes as he scanned the room: his sister had been in the house before she graduated. Sure enough, he joined our table after a mere few seconds of deliberation by the Hat.
Eleanor Branstone and Owen Cauldwell were both put into Hufflepuff, the latter after nearly a minute of thinking by the hat. Dennis Creevey, the brother of Colin Creevey, who had been Potter's number one fan, was unsurprisingly sorted to Gryffindor. Scott let out smirk, seeing the warm welcome Creevey's table was giving Dennis.
Emma Dobbs, a mousy-haired little girl who bore little resemblance to Leanne except for for her tousled hair and brown eyes stepped up to the hat. Like Cauldwell, the hat took nearly a full minute to place her into Hufflepuff. Her sister didn't seem to exemplify Gryffindor: in a way, she and Bell displayed an unwavering loyalty to each other. I supposed they could have gone either way to each house.
The rest of the sorting passed uneventfully: apart from Peregrine Derrick's outlandish display of anger when his brother was sorted into Ravenclaw, and the fainting of a Robert Farquhar upon being sorted into Gryffindor, it was a sorting like any other. We welcomed 19 new Slytherins this year, 7 of whom already had siblings amongst us. 4 of them had unfamiliar last names: they must have been half-bloods or muggleborns. Still, I paid them no mind.
Dinner was then served. Scott excitedly reached for a slice of pie, and I took a turkey drumstick. There were a few excited gasps from the first years, which I largely ignored as I tucked into my meal. The house elves had really outdone themselves this time: subsequent meals would pale in comparison to the first feast of the year.
The Bloody Baron floated over. Though his eyes did not turn to face us, it was an eerie feeling. I felt his ghostly gaze penetrate me, and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat before he drifted away from the Grey Lady, who approached.
In twenty minutes, the plates emptied themselves, being replaced by a various assortment of deserts. As I finished my chocolate pudding, Dumbledore stepped forward. It was customary for him to deliver a few announcements at the start of the year.
As usual, Filch had banned various joke items: Zonko's Joke Shop in Hogsmeade, and by extension, the Weasley twins, had been his worst enemy last year. I doubted the Squib could enforce the ban this year. The headmaster then reiterated that the Forbidden Forest was out-of-bounds, not that anyone would visit the place, and once again stated that first and second years could not visit Hogsmeade. The groans of disappointment this year were quieter.
"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year." Immediately, there was a roar of protest from all four houses, with Warrington and Montague rising to their feet. Lucian Bole scowled, but didn't say anything. This was an outrage! The Quidditch Cup had taken place, uninterrupted, since the Wizarding War had concluded. What warranted this disruption?
The murmurs of discontent quickly quietened as Dumbledore continued, but there was the occasional bark of disapproval. "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..." The competition at Hogwarts: this must have been what Malfoy was talking about. But something of this capacity?
Before Dumbledore could continue, the doors to the Hall burst open to clap of thunder. A slouching figure staggered towards the staff table in a meaningful limp: one of his legs had been replaced at the hip by an artificial leg. As he approached us, I could make out a brilliant flash of white beneath his matted grey hair...
A magic eye stood out from his scarred face: it wasn't his dashed nose, or his crooked mouth that was striking, but the constantly swiveling, magical, all-seeing electric eye that had aided in the demise of Death Eaters and dark creatures, that had aided in the demise of...
It was Mad-Eye Moody, famed ex-Auror. It seemed the idea of teaching a future generation of wizards how to duel and protect themselves from the Dark Arts had lured him out of retirement. Finally walking up to Dumbledore, he gave the headmaster a firm handshake, before sitting down to the headmaster's right. As he ate an entire string of sausages, his eye never seemed to cease darting around the Hall, taking in every minute detail.
"May I introduce our new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher?" There was a silence, and it seemed that apart from a select few older students, and most of our table, many students in Hogwarts were terrified of the stranger. "Professor Moody."
There were a few gasps of recognition, and chatter as each student confirmed their thoughts. Moody took a swig from a dirty flask he carried on his hip. As he twitched slightly, his eye swiveled about madly. The war had left him with numerous mannerisms.
At last, Dumbledore continued. "As I was saying, we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months," I had already known as much. "an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year." So that was it, then! The competition had been suspended after protests from Beauxbatons Academy. The French had been concerned over the numerous deaths and injuries in the tournament, and Hogwarts and Durmstrang had agreed to stop. I wonder why it had started up this year.
The headmaster launched into a quick history of the tournament, many of the students listening enraptured. He then concluded by informing us that the entourage from the two other schools would be arriving in October, and the selection of the champions would be at the Halloween feast. Unlike the rest of the school, I wasn't bothered at all by the fact only seventh-years could participate, seeing the bloody history of the competition before. Paying close attention to the Weasley twins, Dumbledore cryptically hinted at an impartial method of selection that was bound to reject those seventeen and under, while still choosing the best possible champion from each school.
Dumbledore's speech concluded, drawing the feast to an end. Instead of walking back to our dormitories as we usually did, Scott lingered at the main table, waiting for the last few first years. He would be carrying out his first duty as a prefect: leading the first years back to their dormitories. I remembered my first time doing so: this time, Scott would definitely be much friendlier. Seeing no way to speed things up, I sat down, resigned to wait for them to head off. At the entrance, all four houses milled about, the house colours displayed boisterously. Of course, in a week or so, the dress code would relax as our enthusiasm about school dimmed. An older Hufflepuff prefect I did not know gently nudged her bleary-eyed housemate along, and I thought of Scott again. As a prefect, he would also be patrolling the hallways at night: he would probably come back to our dormitory half an hour or so after I usually fell asleep. Well, good for him. It would certainly make nights more boring: Kevin Harper slept much earlier than us, and slept much noisier than us.
Scott returned. "Kelly Orin's missing," he told me apologetically. "Celia and I are going to look for her, I'll try and be done in a few minutes." Before I could reply, he jogged off. Runcorn was already combing the tables. Sighing, I leaned back in my seat, thumbing the soft fabric of my scarf.
Minutes passed, and I was jolted out of my idle thoughts by a light tap on my shoulder. "Miles!"
Bell? "Bell," I said. My back was turned to her, concealing a daft smile that would otherwise have betrayed the nonchalance in my voice. "Shouldn't you be heading back with the other Gryffindors?"
She moved over, and I could see a similar expression on her face. "They aren't here. Fred, George and Angelina are waiting for a shipment of Firewhiskey to be dropped off-" her eyes darted around, and she lowered her voice theatrically- "somewhere here tonight, and Alicia accompanied Lee back to his room because he felt sick."
"Walking back alone, then?"
She grinned impishly, cocking her head slightly. "I was hoping you'd accompany me back to the dormitories."
"I'll walk with you as far as the Viaduct." Her hopeful smile wavered, and there was a twinge of guilt in my chest. "Fine, back to the tower." Bell perked up upon hearing this, her hazel eyes gleaming with delight. "It's the least I could do for a friend."
"Let's go, then." I stood up, and Bell started her stroll back. Distantly, I wondered if Scott would miss me. Still, I was walking with a friend either way, right? Why Bell then, over Scott?
As my brain searched for an answer, Bell started talking. She had a nice voice: it lacked the coarseness of Flint's, the drawl of a professor's and the odd inflections of Scott's. No point worrying, I decided, as she amiably launched into another tale, this time sharing about some musical event she attended as a child.
For a Katie/Miles branded story, the two of them weren't interacting as much as I wanted to, so I tried to make up a bit with this chapter. It's a bit hard to find a plausible explanation for the two of them fraternizing so often, so that's why they didn't talk as much before. Fret not, you'll be seeing more and more of them as the story progresses!