Chapter Nine: Enter Astoria Greengrass
Once all of them were seated in their usual seats at the Slytherin table, they sat uncomfortably. Harish dried himself and the twins did the same. The rest of the students were completely soaked.
"Come on," both twins moaned.
"I'm hungry," Fred said.
"Starving…" George whined.
"Is food all either of you ever think about?" Hermione asked.
They paused. Fred considered her for a moment before replying cheerfully, "Pretty much!"
Harish shook his head and glanced up at the table. There were three empty chairs. One most likely belonged to Hagrid, who was seeing the first years across the lake. The other was Professor McGonagall's who was waiting for them to take them to the sorting. But, it took Harish a moment to figure out who the third person was that was missing.
"Where is the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" he asked.
"Maybe they couldn't get another one," Hermione suggested.
"That would be nice," Harish said wistfully.
Seconds later, the door burst and Professor McGonagall lead the first years down the aisles in between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables. They were tiny, shivering, and so soaked that it looked as though they had swam across the lake. One boy was wearing Hagrid's huge coat. Harish laughed softly as he saw the boy mouth, "I fell in the lake!"
"They seemed to be getting shorter every year," Fred whispered to Harish, referring to the size of them.
"I swear we were never that small," George muttered.
The first years came to a stop in front of the stool that held the Sorting Hat. The Sorting Hat opened its brim and sang for a few minutes. Once the song had ended, McGonagall unrolled a large scroll of parchment.
"When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool," she told the first years. "When the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table.
"Ackerly, Stewart!"
"RAVENCLAW!"
Stewart Ackerly took of the hat and hurried into a seat at the Ravenclaw table, where everyone was applauding him.
"Baddock, Malcom!"
"SLYTHERIN!"
Harish's table erupted in cheers and the boy joined the first years at the edges of the table. A couple of the Gryffindors hissed, but most didn't mind.
"Branstone, Eleanor!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
"Cauldwell, Owen!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
"Creevey, Dennis!"
The tiny boy in Hagrid's giant coat walked up to the stool, trembling from head to foot with excitement. He nearly tripped over the enormous coat, and then scrambled into the stool and crammed the hat onto his head.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The Sorting Hat continued. Boys and girls that had various degrees of fright on their faces were sorted one by one. When McGonagall reached the G's, Harish finally saw a familiar face.
"Greengrass, Astoria!" she called.
She had plain hair and rather plain face with blue eyes and rosy cheeks. She was also very tiny. She walked to the stool, her back straight, her nose held high. Harish recognized that this was the little girl's way of trying not to show her fear. The hat fell down over her head and was held up only by her still upturned nose.
"SLYTHERIN!" the hat shouted after a moment.
Astoria took off the hat and ran over to the Slytherin table, her face flushed happily. She came straight over to them and stopped by Draco.
"Can you move over for me, Draco?" she asked sweetly.
Draco looked pained, but did as he was asked and slid to the side to let the first year sit on the bench next to him. It seemed that the only people that didn't mind her there were the twins and Hermione. Harish was slightly annoyed because he didn't want to be around his girlfriend's younger sister. Daphne was annoyed because she didn't want to be around her sister either. And Ginny was annoyed as well.
The sorting moved on painfully slow. Then food finally appeared on their plates.
"Finally," the twins said, loading their plates down.
"Who is this?" Ginny asked, gesturing toward Draco. Her voice contained a venom that surprised everyone.
"I should be asking the same of you," Astoria replied with the same amount of resentment in her voice. "But I already know you're a Weasley."
"This is Astoria Greengrass," Draco replied slowly.
"Yeah," Harish said, his tone light and teasing. "His betrothed."
Ginny choked on her glass of pumpkin juice.
"His what?" she asked incredulously.
Draco fidgeted uncomfortably and Astoria stared at him with a dazed expression.
"His betrothed," Harish repeated. "The woman that was arranged by his parents for him to marry one day."
"I think I know what betrothed means, thanks," Ginny snapped.
There was an uncomfortable silence.
"You know, betrothal is an extremely outdated tradition," Hermione said finally.
Everyone nodded in agreement. Astoria snapped out of her love-struck daze and looked at Hermione, highly offended.
"I think it's a wonderful tradition!" she exclaimed indignantly. "I love Draco, after all!"
Draco looked even more uncomfortable and he began muttering incoherently under his breath. Harish could just make out him saying, "I don't—stupid—dumb—love—I don't—"
Harish snorted. Astoria didn't seem to notice. Soon she, Hermione, and Ginny were arguing. Hermione, mainly because she was Muggleborn. Ginny was arguing because it was now evident she did not like Astoria. Everyone ate in relative silence. Conversations only popped up occasionally through bites of turkey or potatoes.
Finally, when the puddings and desserts had all vanished, Dumbledore stood to make his announcements. The buzz of chatter that filled the Hall died away almost at once so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.
"So!" Dumbledore said, smiling at them all. Harish made a face. "Now we all are fed watered, I must ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, had asked me to tell you that the list of forbidden objects inside the castle had been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it
The corners of the old man's mouth twitched before he continued, "It is also painful duty that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."
Several people started at this news. Angelina, who was over on the other side of the room, exclaimed loudly, "What?!"
The twins were too appalled to form words. Instead, they were mouthing words soundlessly. 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 enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts—"
But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors to the Great Hall slammed open with a bang. A man stood in the doorway, leaning on a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a flash of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out the log mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers' table.
A dull clunk echoed through the Hall with every other step he took. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Harish could see that he had a wooden leg. Another flash of lightning threw his face into relief. Every inch of it was scarred . The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk was missing from his nose. But it was the man's eyes that made him looked frightening.
One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly without blinking. It was rolling up and down, side to side, quite independently of his other eye—and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head so all they could see was the whites of the large eye.
The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words no student in the Hall could hear. Ge seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.
Finally Dumbledore spoke again, "May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Professor Moody."
Normally other teachers applauded when their new colleagues were announced, but the remained silent. Only Dumbledore and Hagrid clapped, but the sound sounded so dismal by itself and soon faded away, as they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by his bizarre appearance to do more than stare.
"As I was saying," Dumbledore said after clearing his throat. "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 pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."
The tension that had formed when Moody had arrived suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and shook their heads. Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.
"I can assure you that I am completely serious," Dumbledore said. The students stopped laughing. "The Triwizard Tournament was first established 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 tournaments 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—that is, until the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."
"Death toll?" Hermione whispered, looking slightly alarmed.
"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore went on, "none of which have been very successful. However, our own 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 contestants 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 hissed. Both he and George's faces were lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches. He was not the only one. Most everyone in the Hall were turned to each other, whispering excitedly.
When Dumbledore began to speak again, they reluctantly fell silent.
"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 their names in for consideration. This—" Dumbledore raised his voice as several students shouted in outrage.
The twins looked furious.
"We'll be seventeen in April!" they shouted.
Harish couldn't help but feel disappointed. Not only would he not turn seventeen until the summer, but he was also the last person in their year who would become of age. Still Dumbledore continued, "is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will 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'm a sixth year!" Harish exclaimed in protest.
"Now, it is late, and I know how important it is for you all to be alert and rested for your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop, chop!"
Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all of the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the entrance to the hall.
"They can't do that!" George howled, as he and his twin followed Harish.
"First years!" Harish called.
"We'll be seventeen in—" Fred counted on his fingers, "Less than half a year! Why can't we have a shot?"
"First year Slytherins, the common room is this way!"
"They're not stopping me from entering," Fred continued. "The champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be able to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!"
"Look," Harish said, finally turning to them as he paused in front of the staircase that led down to the dungeons. "Are you going to keep on about this, or are you actually going to let me do my job as a prefect?"
So the twins went down in front of him, grumbling.
"All right," Harish said, herding all the short firsties together. "Come on, you lot."