"The renowned Bryan Watson—"
Moody's magical blue eye suddenly snapped back to focus, zeroing in on Bryan with intensity. The gnarled ex-Auror extended a large, calloused hand towards Bryan, his grip firm and unyielding as he shook the younger wizard's hand. A hoarse chuckle escaped Moody's scarred lips as he spoke, his voice gravelly and filled with a hint of dark humor.
"Taking down that cunning Greyback, capturing the dark witch who attacked the Quidditch match—the Daily Prophet has practically become your personal gazette these days!"
The students below, their curiosity piqued by this strange newcomer, craned their necks to get a better look. The whispering intensified, a low hum of excitement and apprehension filling the air. Clearly, this wasn't the moment for a long conversation between them.
Bryan exchanged a few more pleasantries with Moody before turning back to face the sea of eager young faces. His smile was warm and reassuring as he continued with the introduction.
"Allow me to introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—"
Bryan pretended not to hear Moody quietly questioning Dumbledore about why he sensed a familiar aura of criminality about him. He continued cheerfully addressing the students,
"Professor Moody—"
In any normal circumstance, the introduction of a new teacher would be met with a round of welcoming applause. However, the Great Hall remained eerily silent. Apart from Dumbledore, whose blue eyes twinkled with their usual joviality, Bryan himself, and Hagrid whose enormous hands created thunderous claps, not a single professor or student made a sound.
A few brave souls attempted to start a round of applause, but their isolated claps echoed awkwardly in the hushed hall. Hands were quickly lowered, and an uncomfortable silence settled over the room. Every pair of eyes remained fixed on Moody, students and staff alike were too stunned by his bizarre appearance to do anything but stare at him unblinkingly.
At the Gryffindor table, three friends huddled together, their whispered conversation barely audible above the tense silence.
"Moody—" Harry whispered to Ron. "Mad-Eye Moody? The one your dad went to help this morning?"
Ron, his freckled face pale beneath his red hair, nodded slowly. "Must be," he replied, his voice trembling slightly with fear.
Hermione with curiosity and concern, joined the hushed conversation. "What happened to him?" she asked, her mind already working to understand the situation. "What's wrong with his face?"
The cold reception in the Great Hall was clearly not what Bryan had anticipated. He cleared his throat lightly, maintaining his welcoming smile despite the eeriness in the air.
"Before his retirement," Bryan continued, his voice warm and encouraging, "Professor Moody was an Auror—in fact, the most experienced Auror the Ministry has had in nearly fifty years. He has ample experience in combating the Dark Arts. I'm confident this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts classes will be the most exciting and educational yet!"
Slowly, whether out of respect for Professor Watson or simple curiosity, a smattering of applause broke out across the four long tables. The sound grew gradually, like the first raindrops before a storm, as more students joined in. Whispers rippled through the crowd like waves on a pond.
The younger students, their faces a mix of confusion and excitement, turned to their older housemates with questions. "What's an Auror?" a tiny first-year Hufflepuff asked, her eyes wide with wonder.
Meanwhile, the older students, particularly those from wizarding families, shared tales of Moody's legendary exploits. "I heard he once took down five Death Eaters single-handedly," a sixth-year Ravenclaw murmured, his voice filled with awe.
Moody himself seemed utterly indifferent to the curious stares and whispered conversations. He stumped his way to the empty seat reserved for him at the staff table, his wooden leg making a distinct 'clunk' with each step. Ignoring the large jug of pumpkin juice placed before him, Moody instead reached into his robes and pulled out a battered hip flask. He took a long swig from it, his magical eye swiveling wildly as he drank.
As Moody raised his arm to drink, his cloak lifted a few inches off the ground, revealing his wooden leg in its entirety. Many students gasped audibly as they caught sight of the prosthetic, which ended in a wicked-looking clawed foot.
Realizing that the introduction had perhaps not gone as smoothly as he'd hoped, Bryan cleared his throat once more. "Well, let's return to the matter at hand,"
His voice, when he spoke again, carried a note of renewed enthusiasm, clearly eager to move the evening in a more positive direction.
"As I was saying earlier, Hogwarts will have the great honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months. It's an event that hasn't been held for over a century. It is my great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."
The tension that had filled the Hall since Moody's arrival suddenly shattered like a broken spell. A loud, incredulous voice cut through the silence.
"You're JOKING!" Fred exclaimed, his voice echoing off the ancient stone walls of the Great Hall.
The tension that had filled the Hall since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Almost everyone laughed, and Bryan also chuckled appreciatively, then continued,
"For those who may not know what the Triwizard Tournament entails, allow me to explain, and for those who do know, I ask for your patience as I give a short explanation."
Bryan paused for dramatic effect, ensuring he had everyone's rapt attention before continuing. "The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago, in an era when magic was both revered and feared by the Muggle world. It was conceived as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts; Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, located in the Pyrenees mountains of southern France; and the Durmstrang Institute, located in the far north of Europe."
The students listened with bated breath, many of them hearing about this legendary competition for the first time.
"A champion was selected to represent each school," Bryan continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "These chosen few were not merely the most magically gifted of their peers, but also those who exemplified the very best qualities of their respective institutions. Bravery, intelligence, cunning, and loyalty – all were put to the test as the three champions competed in three magical tasks of increasing difficulty and danger."
A hushed whisper swept through the hall at the mention of danger, but Bryan pressed on.
"The schools took it in turns to host the tournament every five years. It was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities.
Incidentally, I met a young witch earlier this year who might become Beauxbatons' champion. Her skills are quite exceptional for a student. Those of you intending to represent Hogwarts must be mentally prepared for the challenge. The competition will be fierce, and the tasks will push you to your very limits."
'A witch skilled enough to impress Professor Watson?'
Not just the students from the four Houses below, but even the professors at the staff table turned their heads, showing curiosity.
Seeing the rising excitement on the faces before him, Bryan knew it was time to temper their enthusiasm with a dose of reality. He raised a hand, calling for silence, and when he spoke again, his voice carried a note of caution.
"Of course, I must clarify one crucial point," he said, his eyes scanning the eager faces before him. "The Triwizard Tournament was discontinued for a very serious reason – one that we must all bear in mind as we move forward with its reinstatement."
The hall grew quiet once more, sensing the gravity in Bryan's words. Even the most excited students leaned forward, hanging on his every word.
"The tournament was halted because there were too many casualties among the young wizards participating in this competition," Bryan explained, his voice solemn. "The tasks, designed to test the very limits of magical ability, often proved too dangerous. In the worst instance, even the headmasters serving as judges were severely injured."
A collective gasp echoed through the hall.
"It is for this reason," Bryan continued, "that when our Ministry's Department of International Magical Cooperation and Department of Magical Games and Sports submitted the proposal to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament to the International Confederation of Wizards, all parties involved agreed to impose strict safety measures. Chief among these is an age restriction on this year's competitors. Only students who are of age – that is, seventeen or older – will be allowed to put forward their names for selection."
The reaction was immediate and intense. A wave of disappointed sighs and vehement protests filled the Hall. Many of the younger students, who had been daydreaming about glory and adventure, now found their hopes dashed.
At the Gryffindor table, Ron still holding a half-eaten chicken leg, shrugged with forced indifference. "What a shame," he said, his mouth full of food, voice muffled but his disappointment clear. "Looks like we'll just be spectators, mate."
Harry nodded, his green eyes flickering towards Hermione. A thought suddenly struck him – how would the Beauxbatons witch praised by Professor Watson compare to Hermione?
"—Once chosen as the representative of one of the three schools, you will be competing for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of your school, and a personal prize of a thousand Galleons!"
The mention of such a substantial sum of money caused an immediate uproar again. Ron, who had been sulking moments before, suddenly choked on his chicken. His face turned as red as his hair as he managed to swallow the crumb, sputtering indignantly.
"That's not fair!" Ron exclaimed; his voice hoarse from his near-choking experience but still managing to convey his outrage. The idea of such riches – more money than his family had ever possessed – being dangled just out of reach due to an arbitrary age limit was almost too much for him to bear.
Bryan didn't hear Ron's protest because at that moment, too many people were voicing their objections. Even the younger Slytherin students, who usually supported Professor Watson, weren't entirely on board with this decision. Over at the Hufflepuff table, Harry even saw some students standing on their benches, loudly protesting.
Amidst the uproar, Hermione, her brown eyes flashing with a mixture of annoyance and concern, glared at the students making a fuss.
"Oh, have these people even understood the situation?" Hermione frowned, her voice sharp with frustration. She turned to Harry and Ron, her expression a mixture of disbelief and anger. "Professor Watson has already emphasized how dangerous this tournament is. Just think about it logically for a moment – if wizards like Professor Dumbledore could get injured trying to control certain out-of-control elements in the competition, how do they think they could handle these tasks? It's completely irresponsible!
I believe that besides the age restriction, the Ministry should at least require participants to have passed their O.W.L.s! That way, we'd ensure that only students with a solid magical foundation would be putting themselves at risk."
"Oh, shut up, Miss Granger!" George immediately turned and snapped at Hermione. He and Fred had suffered quite a bit over the summer because of their O.W.L. results, So, hearing Hermione mention it was like salt in a fresh wound, instantly setting George on edge.
But Hermione was not one to back down easily, especially when she believed she was right. She tilted her chin up defiantly, and stared at George with a fierce gaze.
Fred, sensing the growing tension, decided to diffuse the situation in typical Weasley fashion– by plotting mischief.
"We've got to find a way to get around that restriction, right?" Fred winked, his voice low but filled with enthusiasm. "I mean, if we could figure out a way, who'd be willing to try and win some glory for Hogwarts? Just imagine it – eternal fame, a thousand Galleons, and the chance to show everyone what we're really capable of!"
Fred's call to action, spoken with all the charisma of a born troublemaker, received quite a bit of support from those around him. Several students nodded eagerly, their eyes blazing with the possibility of adventure and glory. Even Ron, who moments ago had been sulking about the unfairness of it all, seemed to perk up at his brother's words.
What was most surprising, however, was the reaction from Neville. The usually timid boy nodded hesitantly, a mix of fear and determination in his round face. This unexpected show of bravery earned him a surprised and angry glare from Hermione, who couldn't believe that even Neville was being swayed by this reckless idea.
Neville, feeling the weight of Hermione's disapproving stare, hung his head in shame. But there was a resolve in his voice as he tried to explain himself, pleading for Hermione's understanding.
"My gran would definitely want me to enter," Neville said softly, his words barely audible above the continuing commotion in the Hall. "She's always going on about how I should uphold the family honor. How I should be more like my parents..."
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