With the rain pouring down outside, it was a relieved trio that eventually made it to the Great Hall for the usual welcoming feast. All of the students had been caught in the downpour, whether they had travelled by carriage or by boat. Harry was busy wringing his cloak to get as much of the water out of it, wincing at the large puddle that had formed right beside him. But the weather hadn't been enough to dampen their moods after Hermione's return. Matthew was positively beaming, which must have been a strange sight for everyone who was used to him by now. And maybe Harry's spirits were lifted even further when he happened to look over at Slytherin's table, where Draco Malfoy was looking as dejected and downcast as Harry had ever seen him. If that was a sign of what was to come that year, then it was set up to be a good one.
There were the usual greetings from people who couldn't have known that they'd been mightily close to never being in Hogwarts together again. Hermione was saying hello in relief more than anything, not even wrinkling her nose at the excited squeals of Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. Colin Creevey had bounded over at one point, gushing about how good it was to see Harry and that his brother was joining the school this year. He'd done his best not to groan out loud, knowing that it was highly likely that Gryffindor was going to contain two superfans of his, rather than the one he had just gotten accustomed to. It was a point that had Matthew chuckling heartily.
Harry waved over at Professor Lupin, who was sitting at the head table. He wished that he'd been able to see the professor more over the Summer but other matters had taken priority. It was just a reassurance to see him there, knowing that the curse against that particular teaching position hadn't struck again. Snape didn't appear particularly pleased that Lupin had stuck around, though his dark expression could have just been how his face rested all the time. If Harry was going to accomplish anything this year, he wanted it to be understanding why there was such a visceral hatred between the two men, and probably Sirius.
By the time the Sorting Ceremony had finished (did it always last this long?) and they'd polished off their meals (Matthew was still stubbornly clinging onto the dish of treacle tart before it was taken away), Professor Dumbledore was standing on his lectern, waiting for the assembled students to grow quiet. His mere presence was enough to stop the chatter. Harry wondered if he would command such devoted respect one day, or whether he really wanted that.
"Good evening, one and all! I'm glad to see that you have managed to dry off from tonight's storm, and that you have been watered now in a much more satisfying manner. Whilst I have your attention, it is my duty to pass out a few notices."
He rested his hands against the podium. "Mister Filch has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has been extended to some four hundred and thirty-seven items. The full list, including the new additions, can be found in Mister Filch's office, if you would wish to see it."
Harry was sure that the headmaster smirked at that. "As ever, I must remind you that the Forbidden Forest on the outskirts of the grounds will be keeping its namesake. No one is to enter there, for the punishment it deins to give you will likely be much severer than anything your professors could come up with."
Harry wondered whether he knew about the sorts of detentions Snape was able to come up with. "It also pains me to inform you that the Inter-House quidditch cup will not take place this year."
To say there was an uproar was an understatement. Students were shouting and jumping out from their seats in protest. The Weasley twins were shaking one another as if to convince themselves that it was just some sort of bad dream. It was an unusual occurrence to find all the Houses reacting in the same manner but there was an overwhelming rush of anger and disappointment being sent in the headmaster's direction who, for once, looked unable to corral them.
It was only because the door just behind the head table slammed open so loudly that most of the chaos stopped. People were far more curious about the figure that had come stomping in. He appeared to be leaning heavily on a long staff, much more wonky and misshapen than the one Matthew used. His travelling cloak clung to him, sodden apparently by the rain. He only removed the hood when he was next to Dumbledore, revealing a mass of messy grey tangles that clung to his face. A face that was scarred more than anything Harry had seen, with chunks taken out entirely in places. It almost didn't look human, but that was probably down to the whizzing blue eye that moved independently of the other, which was much more normal in appearance, a beady brown circle.
"Ah, excellent timing as ever," Dumbledore said in greeting. If he was seemingly okay with this intruder, then it made Harry relax a touch. But only slightly. "Because our guest is connected to what I was just about to tell you all about. This is Mister Alastor Moody." He paused, waiting for some sort of reaction. A few people slowly clapped, but most of the crowd were too bewildered to know what to do. "Mister Moody has been brought here as a security precaution. His record, undoubtedly, precedes him and we are very fortunate to have a man of his calibre joining us this year."
"And why, I know you want to ask, would we require extra security? I know that it is already a massive improvement upon the…guards we had last year." That was an understatement. Harry never wanted to see a dementor ever again. "It is because we have the high honour of hosting an exceedingly exciting event over the coming months, an event that hasn't been held for nigh on a century. You can imagine, then, why this has been kept a highly guarded secret. For it is my great pleasure to announce that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year!"
A few people around them gasped in astonishment. Others, evidently not knowing what this event was, murmured in confusion. Harry was in the latter category, looking to his friends for answers. Hermione seemed rather nonplussed, which came as a shock because she normally knew pretty much everything. Matthew, on the other hand, had a look of deep unsettlement as if he really didn't like this news. It was up to Dumbledore to give him the explanation he craved, going into a lengthy discussion about the history of the tournament. Harry was fascinated to learn about how it was hundreds of years old and how it brought together schools from different countries. He'd always been interested in magical cultures outside of Britain. The notion that it had been discontinued because of a death toll (Dumbledore wasn't willing to outline how high such a toll was) was likely the reason why Matthew's mood had soured.
"The participating students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, along with their respective head teachers, will be arriving in October, and subsequently remaining with us in the castle for the majority of the year," the headmaster explained, apparently trying to get through this long-winded lecture as quickly as he possibly could. "Three students, one from each school, will be selected to represent their schools."
"Count me in!" Fred Weasley shouted (or was it George?). They were always far more confident than made sense to Harry.
"Me too!" his identical brother concurred. They weren't alone in being swept up in the excitement. Lots of students across the hall were listening to the information with rapt, eager attention.
The corners of Dumbledore's mouth crinkled. "As much as I'm sure you would love to bring the insurmountable glory to Hogwarts, the heads of all three schools, including representatives from the Ministry of Magic, have decided that an age limit will be put in place for the contestants, to ensure their safety as much as we can." He paused, raising his eyebrows at the shouts of outrage, especially from the twins. "With how difficult and dangerous the tournament will be, we believe no students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with the pressure. I will be personally making sure that no underage student attempts to hoodwink our impartial judge. I would suggest, therefore, not to waste your time."
"I guess that removes the excitement for us," Harry commented, not too fussed about the ruling. He didn't want any part of this, with no desire to earn any glory.
"Thank goodness," Hermione said. "I don't like the sound of this tournament. Why would they want to put students at unnecessary risk? Although I must say I'm excited to meet new students. I've heard so much about Beauxbatons. The less said about Durmstrang, the better, based on their reputation."
Dumbledore, amidst the continued disgruntled comments from the crowd, instructed them to go to bed. They began to stand up, looking forward to the comfort of the common room for the first time that year. Harry gave her an inquisitive look. "What reputation is that?"
"Well, I'm not one to judge without substantial evidence, but Durmstrang is known for producing a high yield of… dark students. They like to focus on the dark arts, especially compared to what's taught here at Hogwarts. If I was a competitor, I'd be very wary of coming up against one of them." She shivered slightly at the thought before glancing at Matthew. "Is that why you're suddenly so quiet?"
The question seemed to take him by surprise. "Have I been quiet? Maybe I still had some treacle stuck in my teeth."
She didn't look too impressed. "You're not going to get past me that easily, mister."
"Fine." He lowered his voice, bringing the other two closer to him. "If you must know, I've heard of this Triwizard Tournament before. I might have even experienced one before, when the Tardis was still functioning properly. It's not good news. Dumbledore was playing down that death toll, I reckon. I have no idea what's made him agree to such a stupid idea. But there's one thing for sure - it's not going to be a quiet year now, regardless of whether we're just sitting on the sidelines."
"I wish I hadn't asked…"
xxxxxxxxxx
With the excitement that had come with the welcoming feast announcement, it was quite difficult to get adjusted to the normal cycle of classes for the student body. Besides the trio, that was, who showed no outward interest in the event. The Weasley boys kept coming up to Harry, asking whether he wanted to be involved in their plans to cheat the system and enter. He had politely declined them a few times now, though his patience was wearing thin with their persistence. He didn't understand why so many people wanted to be involved when the danger signs had been placed front and centre. Maybe he couldn't comprehend the hunger for recognition when he'd had that forcibly put on him since he was a child.
After Matthew's rather bleak comments, Harry had seen fit to send Sirius a letter, trying to find out more about the tournament. It was rather nice to have an outlet outside of the school, who could investigate these matters for them with a bit more freedom. The message hadn't just been about the tournament obviously. Harry wanted to get to know his godfather better and, for the time being, they were only able to be connected via owl. It was a good job then Hedwig was so brilliant and speedy, relaying their letters relentlessly. It seemed that Sirius was a bit too busy sorting out his new home to properly look into what was happening, though he claimed that Fudge was desperately wanting the good diplomatic points that would come out of bringing the different schools together. It also explained why Fudge had wanted to get the trial done with as quickly as he did.
Lessons, meanwhile, remained perfectly the same. Arithmancy and Ancient Runes continued to fascinate Harry and he believed he was starting to hold his own in a classroom that also contained his two best friends. Herbology saw them collecting pus from the bubotuber plants, which wasn't the most pleasant of tasks. Though that paled in comparison to what Hagrid had them doing, tackling blast-ended skrewts in an effort to raise the newly hatched creatures. Harry found them highly repulsive, as did everyone else to be fair. But, since he cared for the half-giant so much, he was only willing to give it a try, even if it meant he occasionally got caught in one of their blasts.
As much as Lupin was at his entertaining best, Defence Against the Dark Arts still being Harry's favourite class by far, even he couldn't compete with the pure spectacle that happened one morning in the Great Hall. As ever, an influx of owls entered, carrying an assortment of mail. Harry was only concerned about whether Sirius had sent him another note, even though he knew that it was unfair to expect a new message every other day. He idly noted that students with subscriptions to the Daily Prophet were receiving their newspapers, promptly followed by a din of excited chatter.
Matthew appeared confused about the reaction, casually pinching a copy of the paper from Ginny Weasley, who shouted out in annoyance.
"You know, you could be a bit politer," Hermione commented. "Otherwise you're going to end up getting hexed. I've heard that Ginny's rather good in that department, probably because she's had to grow up with so many older brothers."
"It's nice to see you're concerned about my general wellbeing, Hermione," he said. "But I think you're going to want to read this." He shifted slightly, giving her space to lean in and scan the pages with him. Her head was practically resting on his shoulder, they were that close, completely unaware of the suggestive looks that some of the other students were giving them. Thankfully, the majority of people looked to be far more interested in the same news story.
"Oh my," Hermione muttered, covering her mouth.
Harry was growing impatient with not knowing. "What? What's going on?"
Matthew turned the paper so that Harry could see what was inside. There was an image of Lucius Malfoy, a sullen look on his face as he was led into a building by two men in uniform. The headline read: Mayhem at the Ministry of Magic . Harry's eyes lit up as it slowly dawned on him what this could mean.
"It seems that Peter Pettigrew has started talking," Matthew said. "This reporter, Rita Skeeter, is trying her best to make him out as an unreliable witness, which I guess is fair, since he's literally a rat. But there's no denying the details he's coming out with. Mister Malfoy is in deep trouble, with claims circling about his past to You-Know-Who."
"It says here that it's been known for a while that he was involved," Hermione continued. "But, like many people, he managed to get out of any punishment by claiming that he was under a spell, controlling his actions without any way of fighting against it. Well, it seems that he's finally been caught in the lie."
"Has he been arrested then?" Harry asked, a bit too excitedly.
"Taken into custody," Matthew answered. "Which I suppose is the polite way of putting it. They won't make a formal arrest just yet because of his high standing and political power, just in case this is a mistake. But it's going to be Pettigrew's word against his, a battle against two of the slimiest people we know."
Hermione folded the paper, awkwardly handing it back to Ginny and giving her a look of apology for her friend's behaviour. "You've also got to take into account what happened at the end of Second Year, when the Ministry raided his home thanks to the tip off Arthur Weasley gave them. If the Ministry pieces these things together…well, it's not looking good for him."
"What a shame." Matthew's reply was completely and utterly sarcastic as he stood up, the thought of their impending classes not able to dampen his spirits. "There'll be more where this came from. Hopefully the remaining Death Eaters will get what they deserve."
They were walking out of the Great Hall with this still on their mind. Harry was running through the possibilities in his head. "I can't believe that things are actually going our way. First Sirius wins his trial, now this. I want to be cautiously optimistic."
"Gloating, are we?" A slimy voice remarked from behind them. They turned to see Draco standing there but his usual cronies weren't flanking him as usual. He seemed strangely small because of it. "I'm of half a mind to think that you're behind this nonsense, Potter."
"Because I'd really waste my time with your dad, wouldn't I?"
"Especially since the last time we saw him, he ended up getting knocked down a few steps by a house elf," Matthew added. "He must be tired, hey? So many losses in a row now. Talk about getting kicked when you're down."
"You'll keep your mouth shut, Mormont. You don't deserve any say in the matter."
"What are you going to do if I keep talking?" Matthew almost sounded bored, even tired. "Send your bodyguards after me? Where are they, by the way? Still shoving food down their throats or have they left you?"
"Ah, I'm starting to understand," Harry said. "They probably don't want to hang around him anymore since his little dad has lost his influence. They don't want their reputations being tainted by such a social pariah." He began to turn around, leading them away. "I suppose we should do the same. There's not much use in carrying on with this chat when he's lost all of his power."
"How dare you!" Malfoy cried, shouting at their retreating forms.
Harry didn't really know what happened next. There was a bang and he felt something piercingly hot rush past his ear. Acting on instincts, he ducked down, bringing Hermione to the ground in an effort to protect her.
"Oh no you don't, laddie!" a throaty voice sounded and there was another bang, though none of the accompanying panic.
Stumbling back to his feet, Harry grabbed at his wand to find Moody storming across the corridor. His wand was out and trained on the spot where Malfoy had been only a few seconds ago. Yet now, all that remained was a white ferret, squeaking in terrified fashion. Noting that Matthew was helping Hermione back onto her feet, Harry chose to focus on the peculiar scene. He was rather unnerved to find that the haggard man was looking directly at him, his one blue eye making it feel like he could see through him.
"Did he get you?" Moody barked at him, roughly handling Harry's face to check for any marks or scars. Harry wondered whether he would have ended up looking like his current counterpart if he'd been hit.
"No…no, he must have missed."
"You're fortunate. I thought you were supposed to be a good student but you turned your back on your opponent without any regard for your wellbeing." He turned around, eyeing up the shivering ferret on the floor. The creature tried to run for it but Moody's wrist was quicker. The ferret suddenly found itself floating in the air, tiny limbs scrambling for purchase that wasn't there. "Then again, I despise any man who attacks when their opponent's back is turned. It's cowardly. It must run in the Malfoy blood."
Casually, the latest addition to the Hogwarts payroll swished his wand up and down, making the animal copy the action helplessly. "Never. Do. That. Again! Do you understand me? I know you can still hear me!"
"Mister Moody!" Professor McGonagall, having heard the commotion, appeared from the Great Hall, surveying the scene before her with a growing look of shock.
"Hello, professor," Moody greeted with a blase attitude, continuing to do as he had been doing. The ferret looked like it was going to be sick at any moment.
"What…what are you doing?" The old woman's eyes tracked the bouncing movement.
"Doing my job and ensuring the security of the school remains intact."
"Security? Is that…please don't tell me that's a student!"
"Then I won't tell you."
Her face had gone ashen. "You can't be serious!" She produced her wand and, with a practised flick, the ferret disappeared in a whirlwind, leaving a stunned Draco Malfoy lying on the floor in a shaky heap. His usually meticulously slicked back blonde hair clung sweatily to his bright pink face. Harry thought it was the most glorious thing he'd ever seen.
"Moody! We never use transfiguration as a punishment!" McGonagall continued her tirade. "Surely the headmaster told you about this before you were given this position."
"He might have mentioned it." There was no sense of guilt in the man's voice.
"We give detentions, or speak to their Head of House! And, seeing as you're not even a professor, I don't see it fit for you to be dealing out punishments in the first place!"
"So be it. But, as it happens, I've been wanting to talk to his Head of House anyway so I'll kill two birds with one stone. It is Snape, right? Yeah, an old friend of mine. I'm sure he'll love to know about how spineless his students are becoming."
Moody grabbed Malfoy by the scruff of his neck, leading him away towards the dungeons. McGonagall continued to watch their departure with an expression of disbelief, still trying to make sense of what she'd just witnessed.
"Go on, now," she ordered, regaining her composure. "I'm sure you have places to be!"
"That might just have been the single greatest thing I've been able to witness," Harry commented as they restarted their journey to the common room.
Hermione didn't look so sure. "Professor McGonagall was right though. Moody shouldn't have done it. It could have caused serious and permanent damage!"
"It served Malfoy right," Matthew countered. "He shouldn't have been trying to attack Harry. And, if you're siding with McGonagall, then I presume you'll be telling me off for when I sent Malfoy packing in similar fashion a couple of years ago." He gave her a pointed look, knowing what her response would be.
She turned beet red. "Well, that's completely different because…"
"Because?" He waggled his eyebrows at her.
"You're completely insufferable at times, Matthew. I hope you know that." She was smiling all the same.
"I don't think you're complaining about that."
"I'm just hoping that we don't have any more events like that again. One week back and it seems everything is as chaotic as usual."
Harry wasn't so sure. "With Moody around, I think things are going to be even more chaotic."