In Her Eyes Lies Her Heart

When the train pulled in to Hogsmeade station, the rain was coming down in buckets. Harry, Ron and Hermione exited the train with the rest of the students, and ran quickly to the horseless carriages waiting for them. They sat huddled together in the carriage as it trundled its way to the castle in the cold wind and rain. When their carriage finally reached the great oak doors, they hopped down and sprinted to the entrance hall to escape the downpour. Soaked and shivering from the rain, and from water balloons being thrown by the poltergeist, Peeves, they slipped and slid across the entrance hall and through the double doors on the right.
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 the fifth table, facing their pupils. It was much warmer in here. 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.
As they sat chatting with Nearly Headless Nick, Hermione studied the teacher’s table.
"Where's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." She said, suddenly
They had never yet had a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher that lasted more than three terms. Harry's favorite by far had been professor Lupin, who resigned last year. He looked up and down staff table. There was definitely no new face there.
"Maybe they couldn't get anyone" said Hermione, looking anxious.
Harry scanned the table more carefully. Tiny little Professor Flitwick, the charms teacher, was sitting on a pile of cushions besides Professor Sprout, the herbology teacher, who’s hat was askew over her flyaway hair. She was talking to Professor Sinistra of the astronomy Department. Beside her was professor Snape.
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 sweeping silver hair and beard shining in the candlelight, his magnificent deep green robes embroidered with many stars and moons. 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 this guy outside, and he had never seen it so stormy. Black and purple clouds were swirling across it, and as another thunderclap sounded outside, a fork of lightning flashed across it.
"Oh hurry up," Ron moaned, beside Harry, "I could eat a hyppogriff." The words were no sooner out of his mouth when the doors of the Great Hall opened and silence fell. Professor McGonagall was leading a long line of first years up to the top of the Hall. If Harry, Ron, and Hermione were wet, it was nothing to how these first years looked. They appeared to have swum across the lake rather than sailed. All of them were shivering with a combination of cold and nerves as they filed along the staff table and came to a halt in a line facing the rest of the school-- all of them except the smallest of the lot, a boy with mousey hair who was wrapped in what Harry recognized as Hagrid’s moleskin overcoat. The coat was so big for him that it looked as though he were wearing a furry black circus tent. This small face protruded from over the collar, looking almost painfully excited. When he was lined up with his terrified looking peers, he caught Colin Creevey's eye, gave a double thumbs up and mouthed, I fell in the lake! He looked positively delighted about it.
Professor Mcgonogall now placed a four-legged stool on the ground before the first years and, on top of it, an extremely old, dirty, patched wizards hat. The first year 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:

A thousand years or more ago,
when I was newly sewn,
there lived four wizards of renown
whose names are still well-known:
Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,
Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,
Sweet Hufflepuff from valley broad
Shrewd Slytherin, from fen,
they shared a wish, a hope, a dream,
they hatched a daring plan
to educate young sorcerers
thus Hogwarts school began
now each of these four founders
formed their own house, for each
did value different virtues
in the ones they had to teach
by Gryffindor, the bravest were,
prized far beyond the rest,
for Ravenclaw The cleverest
would always be the best
for Hufflepuff, hard workers were
most worthy of admission
and power-hungry Slytherin
loved those of great ambition
While still alive they did divide
their favorites from the throng
how to pick the worthy ones
when they were dead and gone
‘twas Gryffindor who found the way
he whipped me off his head
the founders put some brains in me
so I could choose instead!
Now slip me snug about your ears
I’ve never yet been wrong
I'll have a look inside your mind
And tell where you belong!

The Great Hall rang with applause as the Sorting Hat finished. Harry clapped along with everyone else and they waited as Mrs. McGonagall read out the names and the hat sorted out the students. And finally, with "Whitby, Kevin" (Hufflepuff) the sorting ended.
Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and stool and carried them away.
"About time," said Ron, seizing his knife and fork and looking expectantly at his golden plate. Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms open wide in welcome.
"I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the hall. "Tuck in."
"Hear, hear!" said Harry and Ron loudly as the empty dishes filled magically before their eyes.

"Aaah, ‘at's be’er," said Ron, with his mouth full of mashed potato.
"You’re lucky there's a feast at all tonight, you know," said Nearly Headless Nick, staring at Ron with a mix of revulsion and envy. "There was trouble in the kitchens earlier."
"Why? wha’ ‘appened?" said Harry, through a sizable chunk of steak.
"Peeves, of course," Said Nearly Headless Nick, shaking his head, which wobbled dangerously. He pulled his rough a little higher up on his neck. "The usual argument, you know. He wanted to attend the feast – well, it's quite out of the question, you know what he's like, utterly uncivilized, can't see a plate of food without throwing it. We held the ghosts Council – the Fat Friar was all for giving him the chance – but most wisely, in my opinion, The Bloody Baron put his foot down."

"Yeah, we thought he seemed hacked off about something," said Ron darkly. "So what did he do in the kitchens?"
"Oh the usual," said Nearly Headless Nick, shrugging. "Wreaked havoc and mayhem. Pots and pans everywhere. Place swimming in soup. Terrified the house elves out of their wits –"
Clang.
Hermione had knocked over her Golden goblet. Pumpkin juice spread steadily across the table cloth, staining several feet of white linen orange, but Hermione paid no attention.
"There are house elves here?" she said, staring, horrorstruck, at Nearly Headless Nick. "Here at Hogwarts?"

"Certainly," said Nearly Headless Nick, looking surprised at her reaction. "The largest number in any dwelling in Britain, I believe. Over a hundred."
"I've never seen one," said Hermione.
"Well, they hardly ever leave the kitchen by day, do they?" said Nearly Headless Nick. "They come out at night to do a bit of cleaning…. See to the fires and so on… I mean, you're not supposed to see them, are you? That's the mark of a good house-elf, isn't it, that you don't know it's there?"
Hermione stared at him. "But they get paid" she said. "They get holidays, don't they and – and sick leave, and pensions, and everything?"
Nearly Headless Nick chortled so much that his ruff slipped and his head flopped off, dangling on the inch or so of ghostly skin and muscle that still attached it to his neck.
"Sick leave and pensions?" he said, pushing his head back onto his shoulders and securing it once more with his ruff. "House elves don't want sick leave and pensions!"
Hermione looked down at her hardly touched plate of food, then put her knife and fork down upon it and push it away from her.
"Oh c’mon, ‘ermi’ne," said Ron, accidentally spraying Harry with bits of Yorkshire pudding. "Oops– Sorry, ‘Arry –" he swallowed. "You won't get them sick leave by starving yourself!"
"Slave labor," said Hermione, breathing hard through her nose. "That's what made this dinner. Slave labor." And she refused to eat another bite.

Ron tried tempting Hermione with different foods that he knew she liked. But Hermione gave him a look so reminiscent of Professor McGonagall that he gave up. When the puddings too had been demolished, and the last crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them sparkling clean, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet again. The buzz of chatter filling the hall ceased almost at once, so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.
"So" said Dumbledore, smiling around at them. "Now that we are all fed and watered," (“Humph!” said Hermione) "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 this year has been extended to include Screaming yo-yos, Fanged frisbees, and ever bashing boomerangs. The full list comprises some 437 items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. filches office, if anybody would like to check it."
The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitch. 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 continued, "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'm sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have a great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts –" but at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the great Hall banged open.
A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the great Hall swiveled towards the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his head, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, and begin to walk up towards the teachers table. A dull clunk echoed through the hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and went heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning went across the ceiling. Hermione gasped. Lightening had cast the man’s face in to sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any harry had ever seen. It looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled With a chisel. Every inch of skin seem to be scarred. The mouth look like a diagonal slash, and a large chunk of his nose was missing.
But it was the man's eyes that made him 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, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye. And then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all they could see was whiteness.
The stranger reached Dumbledore and reached out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words Harry could not hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head un-smilingly and replied in undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right hand side. The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages towards him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed. Then he took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.
"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. “Professor Moody.” it was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students clapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed to transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.
"Moody?" Harry muttered to Ron. "Mad-eye Moody? The one your dad went to help this morning?"
"Must be," said Ron in a low, awed voice.
"What happened to him?" Hermione whispered. "What happened to his face?"
"Dunno," Ron whispered back, watching Moody with fascination.
Moody seemed totally indifferent to this less than warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached in to his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long swig from it. As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a few inches from the ground, and Harry saw, below the table, several Inches of carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot. Dumbledore cleared his throat.
"As I was saying," he said, smiling at the stunned students before him, all of him were still gazing transfixed at Mad-eye Moody. "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 Tri Wizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."
"You're JOKING!" said Fred Weasley loudly.
The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody’s arrival 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? Oh, yes, the Tri-Wizard Tournament… Well some of you will not know what this Tournament involves, so I hope that you who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.

"The tri-Wizard tournament was first established some 700 years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardom: Hogwarts, Bauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took turns in hosting the tournament once every five years. 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 then about deaths that happened hundreds of years ago.
"There's been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own Department of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is right for another attempt. We’ve worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.
"The heads of Bauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October with their selected contenders and the selection of the three champions will take place on Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are best to compete for the Tri-Wizard Cup, the glory of their school, and the 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, people were either listening raptly to Dumbledore, or whispering fervently to their neighbors.
But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more, “Though I know all of you will be wanting to bring the tri-Wizard 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, 17 years or older – will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This" – Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious – "Is a measure we feel is necessary, given that this year’s tasks will be still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is unlikely that students below 6th and 7th year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage students attempt to hoodwink our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion." His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred’s and George's enraged faces. "I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you're under 17. The delegations from the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving at the beginning of October, and will be living with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your wholehearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bed time! Chop chop!"
There was a great banging and scraping as all the students got to their feet and swarmed through the double doors into the entrance hall. The students all chattered excitedly about the Tournament as they split off to their respective Dormitories. Despite the age restriction, when Harry fell asleep, he dreamed that he had won the Tri-Wizard Tournament, that all of Hogwarts was applauding and cheering for him, and that Cho Chang was cheering loudest of all.