Harry Potter: New World

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As soon as I crossed the threshold of the castle, I could hear the squeals of girls on all sides. I looked in the sound direction and saw the source of trouble - Peeves was pelting everyone with water bombs. McGonagall was running after him with threats, and she almost tripped a couple of times but hung on to Ron, who had gotten ahold of her.

"Maybe we could hit him with something?" asked Hermione in a half-whisper.

"Is there any way to hit a poltergeist hard enough but not to expel him from this world?" I peeled the dirt off my shoes, and the thoughtful girl, seeing my maneuver, repeated it.

"Here's the problem," the girl nodded accordingly, and we walked further down the corridors of the castle.

The Great Hall was buzzing with all sorts of shades of emotion in the voices. Some, even when they were soaked to the skin and only now drying themselves, were damn glad to meet their friends and comrades, telling stories that had accumulated over the summer. And someone had enough rain to now sit and grumble like an old man.

When I took a seat at the House table, I found myself in a kind of vacuum - Hermione was immediately taken in by Lavender and Parvati, and no one really wanted to talk to me.

"Hello!" clapped Seamus on my shoulder. "How's it going?"

"It's okay, so far."

"So far?" the guy smiled, sitting down next to me. "Do you think something will happen?"

"Absolutely. It's Hogwarts. Maybe even at the feast itself."

"Well, we'll see, we'll see."

"Harry! Harry!" waved emphatically Colin Creevey, now a third-year student. The reason for his joy, "Harry Potter, sir!" turned his attention to the boy and said hello with a face expressing readiness for any surprise. "Can you believe my brother is entering today? It's great, isn't it?"

"Oh, Sir Knight," McLaggen said with a smirk, saying hello. "You were great at beating that redhead back then. I could have done better, of course, but you weren't bad either."

Well, I didn't need his praise at all. As if to confirm my thoughts, lightning flashed on the illusion of a stormy sky on the ceiling, and there was thunder outside.

The doors of the great hall swung open with a distinctive thud. When had they closed? As soon as the sound echoed through the great hall, everyone was instantly silent, and McGonagall entered the hall, leading a crowd of first-year students. One kid who looked a lot like Colin stood out among them - he was wrapped in Hagrid's coat and looked incredibly comical as if a tent had collapsed on him.

Distribution began, and it was going as usual, except that Ron was constantly and loudly muttering about how hungry he was and what animals he wanted to eat right now. At the end of the distribution, Dumbledore stood up from his seat in his purple robe.

"I'll tell you one thing," the Headmaster's loud voice swept through the hall. "Eat!"

As always, the food at the feast was varied and hearty, and I didn't deny myself anything, looking with a sort of snide glance at Harry, who Ron had made happy for the second time with crumbs and other substances from his mouth while trying to eat and talk. The majority at our table may not eat like at the Queen's reception. Still, they eat within the bounds of decency. Ron is an isolated case, but the whole House is judged by his behavior.

After the feast, Dumbledore traditionally reminded everyone of the list of forbidden things and the ban on visits to the Forbidden Forest. But this time, the Headmaster shocked absolutely everyone with the news about the cancellation of the inter-faculty Quidditch competitions, causing grumbling and discontent. I don't quite understand the reasons, by the way - organizing a match shouldn't take a lot of effort and time. If the problem is the stadium preparation, you could have involved the seniors as well. All in all, a questionable administrative decision.

When the Headmaster wanted to announce the Tournament, the hall doors opened with thunder and lightning, revealing to us a figure in a cloak and a leather and obscure suit. The thud of staff and a prosthetic leg on the floor echoed through the hall with each step of the hooded man. Another flash of lightning on the illusory sky revealed a very harsh, scarred face, and in place of one of his eyes was a prosthesis, spinning freely in all directions, even peering as if inside his head. Moody. Or not Moody - who knows now? But with Wormtail's death, the chain of events might take a very different course.

In the silence of the crowd, the man got to Dumbledore, and they shook hands and talked quietly about something. Eventually, the man walked to the empty seat at the teachers' table, moved a plate of sausages to him, and, taking a large knife from his belt sheath, cut off a piece. He put the piece on the tip of the knife, held it up to his face, sniffed it, and then ate it.

"Allow me to introduce you to our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," the Headmaster spoke cheerfully amidst the general silence. "Professor Moody."

There was quiet talk and whispers in the hall, discussing this odious figure.

After everyone's dismay at the cancellation of the Quidditch matches, Dumbledore surprised and delighted everyone by announcing that Hogwarts would be hosting the Triwizard Tournament. There were exclamations of disbelief and surprise, the laughter of those who were sure it was a prank, but no - not a joke. When the Headmaster spoke of "Eternal Glory" and a thousand galleons to go with it, the students' spirit flared. But Dumbledore again broke the mood, saying, "Not until you're seventeen.

The Weasley twins promised themselves and each other to bypass this restriction because they were almost seventeen, and it wasn't fair.

On that note, the feast finally came to an end, and we all headed for the common rooms.