Harry Potter, with his friends Ron Weasely and Hermione Granger, slipped across the entrance hall and through the double doors on the right, into the great hall, soaked through the bone by the torrential rain outside. The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleamed by the light of hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in midair. The four long House tables were packed with chattering students; at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils. Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked past the Slytherins, the Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuffs, and sat down with the rest of the Gryffindors at the far side of the Hall, next to Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. Pearly white and semitransparent, Nick was dressed tonight in his usual doublet, but with a particularly large ruff, which served the dual purpose of looking extra-festive, and ensuring that his head didn't wobble too much on his partially severed neck.
"Good evening," he said, beaming at them.
"Says who?" asked Harry, squeezing some water out of his robes and onto the floor below. "Hope they hurry up with the sorting. I'm starving," he muttered. While Harry knew of the sorting ceremony, he had never attended one since his own in his first year. Circumstances beyond his control prevented him from doing so. Despite his complaints, he was somewhat looking forward to it. Colin Creevey, a third-year fan of Harry Potter who viewed him as a hero, enthusiastically greeted Harry as he sat down.
"Hi, Harry! Did you know that Dennis is starting? My brother Dennis! I just hope he's in Gryffindor,"
Harry turned back to Hermione.
"Aren't siblings always in the same house?" He asked, his thoughts drifting to the Weasley line. All of them, without exception, were placed in Gryffindor.
"Usually. Parvati Patil's twin is in Ravenclaw but together you wouldn't be able to tell them apart," Hermione answered.
Harry's attention moved to the staff table, where there were a couple of empty seats. Hagrid, of course, was still fighting his way across the lake with the first years; Professor McGonagall was presumably supervising the drying of the entrance hall floor. Tiny little Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was sitting on a large pile of cushions beside Professor Sprout, the Herbology teacher, whose hat was askew over her flyaway gray hair. She was talking to Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department. On Professor Sinistra's other side was the sallow-faced, hook-nosed, greasy-haired Potions master, Snape — Harry's least favorite person at Hogwarts. On Snape's other side was an empty seat, which Harry guessed was Professor McGonagall's. Next to it, and in the very center of the table, sat Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, his silver hair and beard covering his expression in the candlelight, his deep green robes embroidered with many constellations. The tips of Dumbledore's long, thin fingers were together and he was resting his chin upon them, staring up at the ceiling through his half-moon spectacles as though lost in thought. Harry glanced up at the ceiling too. It was enchanted to look like the sky outside, and he had never seen it look this stormy. Black and purple clouds were swirling across it, and as another thunderclap sounded outside, a fork of lightning flashed across it. Beside Dumbledore, there was a new face at the table. A man, clean-shaven with sandy blonde hair and a frown on his face. His expression combined with his half-lidded eyes that didn't move from blankly staring ahead made him appear utterly bored. Unlike most of the professors at the table, his robes were hung across the back of his chair. He wore a charcoal buttoned vest with matching pants and a white shirt underneath it. His wrists were resting on the table and his left eyebrow seemed to be missing a spot of hair.
"Do you think that's the new defense against the dark arts teacher?" Harry asked, motioning to the unknown man.
"He sure is," Nearly Headless Nick said, nodding, causing his head to bounce around inside his ruffled collar. "Arrived here only a few days ago. He speaks strangely, I've never heard an accent quite like his before. There's a rumor going around that he's an auror. Maybe he picked up his dreadful accent to better interrogate dark wizards?" The Gryffindor ghost asked.
"An auror?" Harry asked, suddenly intrigued. "What's he doing here then?"
"Maybe he got a better offer from Dumbledore?" Hermione asked.
"Does it matter? I'm hungry enough to eat a hippogriff!" Ron said in frustration.
Just then the doors opened. Professor McGonagall was leading a long line of first years up to the top of the Hall. Professor McGonagall then 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.
The song it sang, Harry noticed, was different from the one that it sang on his first year.
"It sings a different one every year," Ron answered.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool," McGonagall said, beginning with the first name at the top of the list. The sorting went on, names being called by McGonagall and then a house being called by the hat until the line had dwindled to nothing. Somewhat confusingly, as Dumbledore made to stand, the hat and stool were not removed.
"Students of Hogwarts, as I am sure you're aware, we have a new professor joining us this term," Dumbledore said, gesturing to the unknown man at the table. "Please, allow me to introduce Professor Matthew Nichols. He will be our Defense Against The Dark Arts Professor this term, and hopefully many more to come," Dumbledore said while motioning for Professor Nichols to stand, which he did.
"Fat chance," muttered Ron.
"Professor Nichols has journeyed a long way to join us this term; across the Atlantic Ocean in fact," Dumbledore said. Some mutters rose from among the student body.
"So please, join me in making him feel welcome, won't you? Professor Nichols did not study at Hogwarts and therefore has not joined any house yet. Professor Nichols?" Dumbledore asked, motioning for Professor Nichols to join McGonagall in front of the staff table.
Nichols stepped out from behind the table, and Harry noticed his wand. It hung from a strange device on his hip and swayed with his gait. There was a whisper.
"What was that Ron?"
"I didn't say anything," Neither did Hermione, or anyone within whispering distance. Harry turned his attention back to the wand. The whisper sounded again. He thought back to the Chamber of Secrets, somewhat concerned. Was there a miniature basilisk inside the Professor's wand?
"That's ridiculous, Harry," he chided himself. "But still…"
Nichols sat on the stool and McGonagall placed the sorting hat on his head. There were a few moments of tense silence before the hat shouted its answer.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The Gryffindor table cheered, and Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall clapped more enthusiastically than the other staff.
"Yes yes, welcome to Hogwarts, and welcome to House Gryffindor, Professor Nichols," Dumbledore said. "Now without further delay, tuck in," food magically appeared on the tables. Harry and Ron wasted no time in digging in.
After an hour of dinner and dessert, which also involved Hermione discovering that house elves had prepared her food and her apparent boycotting of what she deemed slavery, Dumbledore stood.
"So!" said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered, 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."
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?" Harry gasped. He looked around at Fred and George, his fellow members of the Quidditch team. They were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak.
Dumbledore 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 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 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 Harry 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 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, Harry 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."
Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious.
"This 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!"
There was a cacophony of movement as students, many still grumbling, began to file out of the great hall on their way to their house's respective common rooms. Harry began to join the crowd as Fred and George fumed about the age restriction. He looked over his shoulder, glancing at the DADA professor once more before departing for the night.
A/N: Second chapter finished! I'm looking forward to feedback and thanks for reading!