Hello. If you have time, please leave some feedback in the comments about this fanfic. English is not my native language — I originally write this story in another language and then translate it into English with the help of ChatGPT.
My knowledge of English isn't strong enough to ensure a fully accurate translation, so if you notice any mistakes — especially significant ones — or if something is unclear, I would be truly grateful if you let me know. Your help means a lot, as it allows me to improve and make the story more enjoyable for everyone.
September 19th started like any other day.
Natalie woke up to the morning sunlight seeping through the curtains of her room. Stretching, she slowly got out of bed and walked downstairs barefoot, where the sounds of breakfast being prepared were already coming from the kitchen.
In the kitchen, her mother, as always, was bustling around the stove, while her father sat at the table reading the morning newspaper.
"Happy birthday, sweetheart," her mother said with a smile, placing a plate of toast and scrambled eggs in front of her.
"Thank you," Natalie smiled back, pulling a cup of warm tea closer to herself.
She wasn't expecting anything unusual. Yes, her parents had promised a cake with eleven candles in the evening, but otherwise the day was supposed to go just like any other. Until she heard a knock at the door.
Her father looked up from the newspaper and frowned.
"Who could that be this early?" he muttered, rising from his chair.
Natalie kept eating, absentmindedly watching as her father walked to the door and opened it. The woman standing on the threshold didn't look like an ordinary person at all.
She wore a long dark green cloak, which could have been mistaken for an old-fashioned coat, but Natalie immediately sensed something else.
"Good morning," the woman said with a slight Scottish accent.
Her father blinked.
"Excuse me, you are…?"
"Professor McGonagall," the stranger introduced herself. "I've come to speak with you about your daughter."
Her father turned to Natalie, puzzled, then looked back at the woman.
"Um… alright. Please come in."
Her mother looked at the guest with confusion, then motioned for her to sit down.
"I'm sorry, but… what is this about?" she asked cautiously, her voice tinged with worry.
McGonagall folded her hands in her lap. Her expression was stern, but not unfriendly.
"If you'll allow me, I'd like to explain. This may sound unexpected, but your daughter… is special."
Her parents exchanged glances.
"In what way special?" her mother's voice trembled. "She's healthy, if that's what you mean…"
"This isn't about her health, Mrs. MacDonald. The thing is—your daughter is a witch."
Silence fell over the room.
Her father slowly put down the newspaper he'd been holding. Her mother didn't even blink.
"What?" she asked again, as if she hadn't heard correctly.
"Your daughter has magical abilities. And this year, she is to be admitted to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
The words hung in the air, unbelievable, as if they couldn't possibly be true.
"Perhaps you've already noticed strange things happening around her?"
The parents turned to look at Natalie again. They remembered.
The plate that had put itself back together after shattering. The book that had flown from the shelf into her hands. The door that slammed shut by itself during her tantrum.
"I… but that…" her mother was clearly searching for a rational explanation.
"I'm sorry, but… magic doesn't exist," her father declared firmly, crossing his arms.
Professor McGonagall allowed herself a slight smile.
"Is that what you believe?"
And before anyone could say another word, her body began to change.
Her clothes vanished, her hands turned into paws, and in the blink of an eye, there was a tabby cat with green eyes sitting where the woman had been.
Her mother screamed. Her father's eyes bulged as he opened and closed his mouth without a sound.
Natalie didn't even blink.
The professor transformed back into her human form, once again a strict-looking woman in glasses.
"How… how…" her father began, but no words came.
"That is magic," McGonagall said calmly. "I am a professor at Hogwarts, the school of magic and wizardry. That is where your daughter will study for the next seven years."
Her father blinked.
"A school of magic?"
"Exactly," the professor nodded. "And this is her invitation."
She pulled a letter sealed with red wax from within the folds of her cloak and handed it to Natalie.
The girl took it with trembling hands. It was real. She had hoped that there were others like her in this world. Most of all, she had hoped to return to Hogwarts. But she couldn't just leave home on her own—she was only eleven.
She was returning to the magical world.
"In the next week, I will take you to Diagon Alley," McGonagall continued, "where we will purchase everything necessary: textbooks, robes, quills, a cauldron…"
"A wand?" Natalie asked eagerly.
"How do you know about wands?" McGonagall asked curiously.
"A fairy godmother had one," Natalie said innocently, inwardly wincing at how quickly the woman picked up on details.
Her parents sat in silence, still struggling to believe what they were hearing.
"I'm sorry, but…" her mother sighed deeply. "A school like that must be incredibly expensive. We can't afford it."
McGonagall patiently explained:
"Don't worry. All students receive their education at our school completely free of charge. All you need to do is buy the school supplies, which will cost about a hundred Galleons a year—that's roughly fifteen hundred pounds. You can exchange your money at Gringotts, the wizarding bank."
Her parents exchanged glances again. Natalie watched them, trying hard to contain her excitement. She was going to study magic.
"This is…" her mother murmured, exhaling heavily. "It's just a lot to take in."
"I understand this may be shocking to you," McGonagall agreed. "But your daughter is a witch. Her place is among others like her."
Her father ran a hand through his hair slowly.
"It's just… unbelievable."
"But it's true," the professor said firmly.
Silence fell again. Her parents clearly didn't know how to process everything they'd just heard.
The trip to London turned out to be long.
They didn't live very far—only about a two-hour drive—but to Natalie, the wait felt like an eternity. She sat in the back seat, clutching the invitation in her hands. It felt so real, so tangible. The green letters shimmered on the parchment. She wondered when they had started delivering these letters.
Back in the old days, the Founders would find young witches and wizards themselves, roaming the streets of Britain. Godric and Salazar used to take long excursions outside Hogwarts whenever they heard rumors of strange magical happenings—they always tried to act quickly. But now, things had advanced to the point of having an official Registry of Underage Magic. Natalie approved of such efficient tracking of magical children, but the idea that she wasn't allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts saddened her.
Her mother sat in the front seat, glancing out the window, while her father focused on the road. It seemed they had slowly come to terms with the fact that their daughter was a witch.
"Are you sure we understood everything correctly?" her mother asked again, turning to Natalie.
"Yes," the girl replied calmly.
"Well… if this is some sort of prank, I…" her father muttered, but fell silent as the memory of Professor McGonagall turning into a cat flashed in his mind.
When they finally reached the center of London, the city buzzed like a beehive.
They parked nearby and continued on foot. It was close to noon, and the streets were filled with people rushing about, tourists with cameras, and children clinging to their parents' hands.
Natalie walked carefully, keeping an eye on every turn. The letter had specified the address precisely—not far from the busy streets, hidden among old buildings.
And finally, they arrived. Professor McGonagall was already waiting for them. She stood beside a tiny, inconspicuous pub, wedged between a large bookstore and a CD shop.
"Right on time. Good," the professor nodded, glancing at them.
Her mother and father looked slightly tense.
"Um… and now what?" her father asked. Their eyes slid right past the pub—as if they couldn't even see it while standing right beside it.
Natalie realized: Muggles couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron. It was hidden from them.
"Natalie, take your parents by the hand," McGonagall said calmly.
The girl obeyed.
Her mother flinched, and her father's jaw dropped in astonishment.
"What the…?" he murmured.
Suddenly, a pub appeared before them—one that hadn't been there a second ago.
The Leaky Cauldron stood directly in front of them. The wooden door looked old and worn, and the sign above it swayed gently in the breeze.
"This is…" her mother managed to say. "This is…"
"Magic," McGonagall said simply.
She led them inside.
Unlike the bright London outside with its cars and glass skyscrapers, the Leaky Cauldron looked like something from the past. Wooden tables, candles in antique holders, the smell of smoke, roasted meat, and something spicy filled the air.
Behind the counter stood a balding man with a kind smile—the bartender.
"Professor McGonagall!" he exclaimed happily. "How long it's been since we've seen you!"
"Good afternoon, Tom," she nodded. "We have a first-year today."
Tom squinted at Natalie, then smiled brightly.
"First year at Hogwarts, huh?"
Natalie nodded.
"Then welcome to the magical world."
Professor led them to the back wall of the Leaky Cauldron—an old brick arch.
She took out her wand. Then, tapping a specific brick three times, she stepped back.
In the next moment, the bricks began to move, as if someone invisible were slowly unfolding a hidden doorway. Before them opened a street full of magic.
Huge shop windows, filled with books, cauldrons, robes, floating quills, owls in cages… Wizards and witches were everywhere. They rushed about, chatting, carrying parcels, holding their children's hands.
Her mother and father looked around in awe.
McGonagall gave a small smile.
"Welcome to Diagon Alley."
Diagon Alley amazed Natalie. She remembered it—but not this big, not this crowded, filled with so many witches and wizards.
In the 9th century, there were only a few shops here—no more than fifteen. Trade was chaotic, and many preferred barter to coins. The shops looked like small stone huts.
Now, a lively, bustling town stretched before her, full of magic. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of shops lined the street, and people flowed between them, carrying bundles, books, potion ingredients.
Wizards had become organized. In the 9th century, there were few of them, and they tried to stay isolated. The only known wizarding settlements then were Hogsmeade and Godric's Hollow.
But now… now they had an entire shopping street.
Her thoughts were interrupted by McGonagall's voice.
"First, Gringotts," she said.
The bank towered over the street, majestic and snow-white, with massive columns. Two goblins in sharp suits stood guard at the entrance.
"Who are they?" her mother asked quietly, eyeing the long-fingered, narrow-eyed creatures warily.
"Goblins. They run the bank," McGonagall explained.
Her father gulped but said nothing.
Inside, the bank's hall was enormous. High ceilings, marble floors, and everywhere—goblins seated at long wooden desks, counting coins and writing on long scrolls with quills.
One of them looked up.
"Currency exchange?" he asked, squinting.
"Yes," her father replied.
The goblin pointed to one of the desks.
The procedure took a few minutes. The goblin silently took their pounds, examined the notes, and began exchanging them for gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts.
When he poured the coins into a pouch and handed it over, her father could hardly hide his surprise.
"Gold? Real gold?"
"Naturally," the goblin replied, looking at him as if he were, to put it mildly, not very clever.
They quickly left the bank, and McGonagall led them onward.
"Now for shopping," she said.
First stop—robes.
They entered the shop "Madam Malkin's: Robes for All Occasions." An elderly witch with a kind face worked there and immediately began measuring Natalie, waving her wand.
"First year, right?" she asked, squinting slightly.
"Yes," Natalie nodded.
Within a few minutes, she was already trying on a black robe. It was long, loose, with fastenings at the neck.
"Looks lovely on you, sweetie," her mum smiled.
After robes, they visited the bookstore.
Shelves here were filled with hundreds of books. Giant tomes with leather covers stood alongside crisp new textbooks.
Natalie pulled one off the shelf—The Standard Book of Spells—and barely held back a smile. She remembered some of these spells. But now she had to study magic all over again—in a new time, with new knowledge.
They also bought quills, rolls of parchment, and ink bottles.
After that, they entered the apothecary. The air was filled with the scent of dried herbs and spices. Glass jars were packed with newt eyes, dried bat wings, and powdered mandrake root.
"Are you sure all this is safe?" her dad asked nervously, glancing at the list.
"Completely," McGonagall reassured him casually.
But Natalie knew for certain—some of these ingredients were dangerous.
After purchasing a cauldron and a school trunk, only one thing remained. They approached a modest shop with a worn sign:
Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.
The shop was quiet. Narrow shelves stretched all the way to the ceiling, stacked with thousands of wand boxes. From the shadows appeared an elderly man with silvery hair.
"First year?" his voice was soft, perceptive.
"Yes," she answered quietly.
"Wonderful, wonderful…" He stepped closer, studying her with genuine interest. "Hold out your arm."
He measured her right arm lengthwise and across, and even, for some reason, the circumference of her head. Then he handed her the first wand to try.
"Ten inches, ash, unicorn hair core."
She took it.
"No, no, not that one," Ollivander muttered, taking it back.
He handed her another.
"Eleven inches, cedar, dragon heartstring."
As soon as she touched it, a faint vibration filled the air.
"Hmm… curious, but not quite right."
The process dragged on. She tried one wand after another, until finally, Ollivander slowly opened the tenth box.
"Twelve inches, cherry, dragon heartstring core, flexible."
As soon as Natalie took it, warmth spread through her palm. Golden sparks burst from the tip, filling the room with a soft glow.
Ollivander nodded approvingly.
"You've been chosen by a very powerful wand. In your hands, it will be unbeatable," he said with a promising smile.
Her fingers curled around it. Yes, she felt the power humming at the tip of the dark red wand.
1 September 1994
Natalie stood at King's Cross Station, clutching her Hogwarts Express ticket in her hand. Her heart was beating slightly faster than usual. People bustled around—passengers wheeling suitcases, glancing up at the departure boards, saying their goodbyes to loved ones.
"So… platform nine and three-quarters," her father muttered, looking around nervously, confused by the signs.
"There's no such platform," her mother added with a frown.
Professor McGonagall had explained in detail how to reach platform 9—you just had to walk straight through the barrier between platforms 9 and 10.
Before Natalie could answer, a man in a deep blue cloak appeared beside them.
"Good morning. You're looking for platform nine and three-quarters, I take it?" he asked, smiling slightly.
Her parents flinched.
"You… you're a wizard?" her father guessed.
"Quite right. My name is Mr Digby. I'm in charge of ensuring Muggles don't see the platform and no one wanders off by accident," he said, then looked at Natalie. "Don't worry. I'll help your parents get back once they've seen you off."
"So… we really can go through?" her mother asked uncertainly.
"Only if you hold your daughter's hands tightly," Digby explained. "Only then will you be able to see the platform."
Her parents exchanged nervous glances but took firm hold of Natalie's hands.
"Just walk forward and don't stop," Digby instructed.
Natalie took a deep breath and stepped forward confidently.
For a moment, everything went dark. Her parents felt a faint resistance, like walking through thick air…
And then they were on a loud, bustling platform—even more crowded than the Muggle side.
Children in black robes bustled everywhere. Parents were saying goodbye. Owls hooted from cages. Trunks clattered over the stone floor. And in the centre stood a huge scarlet steam engine with the words:
Hogwarts Express
In her past life, when she was Morgana, there had been no such train, no such station. Back then, wizards travelled to Hogwarts on horseback, broomsticks, or—if lucky—enchanted carriages. And there certainly hadn't been crowds like this.
"I…" her mother looked around in disbelief.
"This is incredible," her father murmured.
Mr Digby stepped closer.
"When the time comes, I'll help you get back through the barrier," he assured them.
"Thank you," her father exhaled with relief.
"Well… you're off," her mother said, wiping the corners of her eyes again.
"Seven years of school," her father added, shaking his head.
"Don't forget about the holidays," Natalie reminded them gently.
Her mother sighed deeply, stepped closer, and gave her a tight hug.
"We'll miss you, sweetheart," she whispered.
Her father ruffled her hair.
"You be careful out there, alright?"
"I'll do my best," Natalie replied with a small smile.
After hugging her one last time, they helped her load her trunk onto the shelf in the first-years' carriage.
The train began to move slowly. She leaned out the window to wave goodbye to her parents. Her mum and dad were smiling, though a trace of worry lingered on their faces.
Then the platform vanished from view.
She didn't sit alone for long. After a minute, two boys peeked into the compartment. They looked quite alike, though the first was about her age, and the second two or three years older.
"Mind if we sit here?" they asked.
"Of course," Natalie nodded, giving them a slight glance.
The brothers lifted their trunks onto the shelf and settled opposite her.
"I'm Colin Creevey, and this is my younger brother Dennis," the older one introduced.
"Natalie MacDonald," said the red-haired girl with a smile.
Natalie realised right away they were from a Muggle family too.
"You're Muggle-born too?" the younger boy asked.
Natalie had heard that term more than once already. Funny, in her time, that word hadn't even existed. No one called themselves pure-blood or half-blood—any magical blood was valued the same.
"Yes," Natalie chuckled.
"Cool!" the older boy said brightly. "Our parents are Muggles too, but our older siblings aren't magical. Professor McGonagall said that two wizards in one Muggle family is a real stroke of luck!" Colin added excitedly.
After a while, a kindly old witch with a trolley full of sweets stopped by their compartment.
"Anything off the trolley, dears?"
Natalie had never seen so many magical treats in one place.
Chocolate Frogs, pumpkin pasties, Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, fire-whisky-flavoured lollipops…
Colin bought a few different kinds for his younger brother, who bounced in his seat trying the strange sweets, and Natalie chose a Chocolate Frog and tasted it for the first time. The card she found inside certainly surprised her.
She flipped it over and read:
Morgana le Fay, lived in the ninth century. A powerful dark witch and potion-maker. Known for destroying the great light wizard Merlin.
Morgana snorted quietly. He hadn't been all that "light."
The train jolted, then let out a long whistle and came to a full stop.
Outside the window, a storm was raging. Dark skies were torn by lightning, and gusts of wind made the trees sway wildly. Rain pounded on the train roof so hard that Natalie didn't immediately hear the voice outside:
"Firs'-years this way! Firs'-years, follow me!"
Pushing and shoving, the first-years spilled out onto the platform.
And were instantly soaked to the bone.
"Oh no, this rain!" groaned a girl with pigtails, trying to shield herself from the downpour with her hands.
But the rain spared no one. Wind hurled icy water straight into their faces, hair clung to cheeks, and robes were instantly drenched.
"This way, this way!" called again a giant man with a thick beard and a kind face.
Natalie froze. In front of them stood a giant. Well, not an actual giant, but a very large man with a thick mane of hair and a beard. He towered over the children, but his eyes sparkled kindly in the dark.
"Name's Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts! Follow me, we're off to the boats!"
They made their way down a stone path leading to an inky black lake. The wind was only getting stronger.
The boats bobbed on the waves, rain drummed against them, and as soon as Natalie sat in one, cold pierced through her. With her in the boat were Dennis Creevey and two other unfamiliar boys.
"How do these things even float?" one of the boys muttered.
But before anyone could answer, an excited shout rang out.
"Whoa!" Dennis Creevey shouted. "We're moving! This is amazing!"
He bounced with joy just as a gust of wind roared.
Before anyone could grab him, Dennis tumbled out of the boat with a loud splash.
"Oh no!" cried several children.
The water was freezing and dark, but suddenly, a huge tentacle broke the surface.
"It's him!" someone screamed. "The giant squid!"
But instead of dragging Dennis under, the squid gently lifted him with its tentacle and set him back in the boat.
Dennis was trembling, his hair plastered to his face…
But he was beaming with delight.
"That was awesome!" he gushed. "I was in the Hogwarts lake! I saw a huge tail! I bet it has a name! What do you think—Bob? Charlie? Maybe Fred?"
Hagrid laughed, took off his huge shaggy coat, and wrapped it around Dennis.
"Here you go, lad, warm up. The lake guardian's a good soul. No danger from him."
While the other kids stared at Dennis in shock, the boats kept moving.
And then Natalie saw it.
Through the curtain of rain, it was hard to make out the shape of the castle, but she had no doubt — it was Hogwarts. In the 9th century, it had looked different: smaller, humbler, some of the towers hadn't even been built, and there hadn't been hundreds of warm lights shining from the windows like there were now.
When the boats docked, Hagrid helped them out. Rain lashed at their robes, and the wind blew even harder up the hill leading to the castle.
They climbed a stone staircase and stopped before the huge doors. Hagrid knocked three times with his fist, and the door swung open.
Standing before them was Professor McGonagall.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said. "Follow me."
As they walked to the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall dried their soaking robes with a flick of her wand. Several kids groaned with relief at the sudden comfort of being dry.
Natalie recognised the hall at once, and what delighted her most was the familiar enchanted ceiling. Rowena had been so proud of it, and Natalie was comforted to know that some things hadn't changed.
Once, all students ate at one long table, but now they were divided by House. In her past life, when she had been Morgana, there had been only 50–70 students in the great halls. Now there were hundreds. Six hundred… maybe seven hundred or more.
They came to a stop before the staff table, and Natalie immediately noticed the Headmaster. It was almost comical how much he resembled Merlin. Though maybe, she thought, all old men looked alike.
She didn't know what to make of Dumbledore yet, but if he was even a little like Merlin — and not just in appearance — she'd do well to keep her distance.
"MacDonald, Natalie!"
She stepped forward and sat on the stool. The Sorting Hat was lowered onto her head.
"Hm… very interesting…"
The Hat could feel her thoughts.
"You are ancient. Not in years, but in spirit…"
She stayed silent.
"You are clever, like Ravenclaw. Cunning, like Slytherin. Loyal, like Hufflepuff. But within you… there is something stronger…"
The Hat fell silent, as if listening to her soul.
"Courage. Resilience. A defiance of fate. You're not even afraid of me…"
"I fear no one," Natalie thought.
The Hat chuckled.
"Then it's decided!"
And it shouted:
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Gryffindor?
She wasn't disappointed — just surprised. She'd expected Slytherin, having once been Salazar's student. She'd expected Ravenclaw, since her favourite mentor had been Rowena.
But Gryffindor…
Well, if the Hat had made its choice, it must have had its reasons.
To the applause of the Gryffindor table, she walked over and was greeted with smiles and pats on the back.
With a wave of Dumbledore's hand, delicious food appeared on the tables. There was everything: roasted chicken legs, mashed potatoes, fragrant cheese, kidney pie — which, by the way, had been invented by Helga — as well as treacle tart. Natalie had been surprised when her mother once cooked similar dishes at home. Perhaps Muggle-born witches had passed on the recipes to Muggles.
Once dinner was over and the last crumbs vanished from the tables, Albus Dumbledore stood up again. The final conversations died down and the students turned their attention to the headmaster.
"So," said Dumbledore with a smile. "Now that we're all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention for a few announcements. Mr Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to inform you that the list of forbidden items within the castle has been extended this year and now includes Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list numbers four hundred and thirty-seven items and can be viewed in Mr Filch's office, should anyone be interested."
Smirking faintly into his beard, Dumbledore continued:
"As always, I must remind you that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off-limits to all students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to anyone below third year."
"It is also my unpleasant duty to inform you that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."
"What?!" gasped the older students. Everyone stared at Dumbledore, seemingly struck dumb.
"This is due to an event that will begin in October and continue throughout the school year—it will demand all of our teachers' time and energy, but I am certain you will enjoy it greatly. It is with great pleasure that I announce that this year at Hogwarts—"
But at that very moment, a deafening crash of thunder filled the air and the doors to the Great Hall burst open with a bang.
In the doorway stood a man leaning on a long staff and wrapped in a black travelling cloak. All heads in the hall turned to the stranger—suddenly illuminated by a flash of lightning. He pushed back his hood, shook his greying dark hair, and made his way toward the staff table.
A dull clunking sound echoed through the hall with each step he took. The stranger limped up to the podium and approached Dumbledore. Another lightning bolt flashed overhead.
The light sharply illuminated the man's face. Every inch of his skin was covered in scars, his mouth was a crooked slash, and a large portion of his nose was missing. But the most unsettling thing was his eyes. One was small, dark, and beady. The other was huge, round like a coin, and vividly blue.
This blue eye never stopped moving. It didn't blink, spinning up, down, side to side, completely independent of the normal one—and sometimes it rotated fully backward, looking into the back of his own head, so only the whites were visible from the outside.
The stranger reached out a scarred hand toward Dumbledore, who shook it, murmuring a few words Natalie couldn't hear. It seemed he asked the newcomer something—the man shook his head with a grim expression and replied quietly. Dumbledore nodded and gestured toward an empty seat to his right.
"Allow me to introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," Dumbledore announced cheerfully into the ensuing silence. "Professor Moody."
Dumbledore and Hagrid welcomed the new professor with a round of applause. The soft clapping quickly faded in the otherwise silent hall. The rest of the students were clearly too stunned by Moody's dramatic entrance to do anything but stare.
Dumbledore cleared his throat again.
"As I was saying," he smiled at the sea of young faces, all eyes still locked on Mad-Eye Moody, "in the coming months, we will have the honour of hosting a truly exciting event, the likes of which hasn't been seen this century. I am delighted to inform you that this year, Hogwarts will host the Triwizard Tournament."
"You're JOKING!" exclaimed a red-haired Gryffindor boy, suddenly breaking the tension that had gripped the hall since Moody's arrival. His twin brother just stared at the headmaster, stunned.
Everyone laughed, and even Dumbledore chuckled in understanding.
"I am not joking, Mr Weasley," he said. "Although, speaking of jokes, I did hear a good one this summer—so, a troll, a witch, and a leprechaun walk into a bar…"
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat meaningfully.
"Er—perhaps another time… right…," Dumbledore scratched his bushy eyebrow. "Now, where was I? Ah, yes, the Triwizard Tournament. I expect some of you may not be familiar with it, while those who are will forgive a brief explanation—and perhaps occupy themselves with something else for a moment."
"The Triwizard Tournament was established about seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European wizarding schools—Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. Each school provided one champion, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The Tournament was held every five years and was considered an excellent way to foster ties between young witches and wizards from different nationalities—until the death toll rose too high and it was discontinued."
Many students were whispering among themselves, clearly wondering who might win.
"There have been several attempts to revive the Tournament over the centuries," Dumbledore continued, "but none have succeeded. However, our Department of International Magical Cooperation and Department of Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe to try again. The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will arrive in October with their lists of candidates, and the selection of champions will take place on Halloween. An impartial judge will choose the students most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the honour of their school, and a personal prize of one thousand Galleons."
At every House table, Natalie could see students watching Dumbledore in awe or whispering excitedly to their neighbours. But then the headmaster began to speak again, and the hall once more fell silent.
"I know that many of you are eager to win the Triwizard Cup for Hogwarts. However, the heads of the participating schools, together with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed on an age restriction for applicants this year. Only students aged—let me emphasise this—seventeen and over will be allowed to submit their names for consideration." Dumbledore's voice grew a little louder as murmurs of protest began to rise—Fred and George Weasley, for instance, were clearly outraged.
"This has been deemed a necessary precaution," Dumbledore continued, "as the tasks involved remain difficult and dangerous, no matter the safeguards we put in place. It is highly unlikely that students below sixth or seventh year would be able to handle them. I will personally make sure no student underage manages to trick our impartial judge into accepting their name. His bright blue eyes flashed, scanning the defiant faces of the younger students.
"So please—don't waste your time trying to enter if you're not yet seventeen."
"And now—it's late, and I understand how important it is for all of you to be well-rested for tomorrow's lessons. Off you go! Don't dawdle!"
With a loud rustling and banging of benches, the students rose to their feet and streamed toward the doors.