"What's that scent you're wearing?" Cassie asked, her voice curious as she leaned closer to Theo. They were all huddled together in the carriage, everyone squeezing in to fit.

"Must be the new shampoo I sent him," Draco said, his voice slightly chattering from the cold.

The door shut with a snap, and Pansy comfortably settled on Cassie's lap. A few moments later, with a great lurch, the long procession of carriages rumbled and splashed its way up the track toward Hogwarts Castle.

Theo's cheeks were slightly red as he spoke up, "I've been trying to grow out my hair."

Cassie turned sideways to get a better look. Boy, how did she miss that? His hair was definitely longer—a bit messy but cute.  wait- not cute- uhm. good, 

"It looks good—and smells good too," Cassie reassured him. "Like cocoa and citrusy, almost," she added, taking a whiff and nodding approvingly.

"I can barely smell anything over this mud and rain," Blaze grumbled, his nose wrinkling in distaste.

"We're almost there," Pansy reassured, patting Cassie's knee for emphasis.

The carriages continued their journey, passing through the gates flanked by statues of winged boars and up the sweeping drive. They trundled along, swaying dangerously in what was fast becoming a gale. Leaning against the window, Cassie could see Hogwarts coming nearer, its many lighted windows blurred and shimmering behind the thick curtain of rain. Lightning flashed across the sky as their carriage came to a halt before the great oak front doors, which stood at the top of a flight of stone steps.

"Alright, everyone, let's go," Draco said, huddling deeper into his coat. "I don't fancy catching a cold."

People who had occupied the carriages in front were already hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. Draco and Pansy hurried forward towards the entrance, right behind the Golden Trio.

"Wait, stop," Cassie hoarsely whispered, grabbing Draco's arm.

"What?" Draco chattered, stumbling to a stop as the rain poured down on them.

"You'll see," Cassie nodded toward the entrance. If you looked closely enough, you could see the peek of Peeves' orange-colored bow tie.

"Three, two, one," Cassie whispered, eyes gleaming with anticipation.

A large, red, water-filled balloon dropped from the ceiling onto Ron's head and exploded. Drenched and sputtering, Ron staggered sideways into Harry, just as a second water bomb dropped—narrowly missing Hermione, it burst at Harry's feet, sending a wave of cold water over his sneakers into his socks. People all around them shrieked and started pushing one another in their efforts to get out of the line of fire.

Cassie let out a shout of laughter before hurrying in the stampede. "Peeves!" she called out delightfully, carefully stepping in the driest areas, the Slytherin group stumbling behind her.

"Miss Cassie!" Peeves swooned, delighted to see her.

"I brought something for you," Cassie chuckled, reaching into her bag and pulling out a huge water gun. "Got it from a muggle store. Charmed it so you can fill anything in it—even potions."

Peeves jumped mid-air, reaching out for the gun just as an angry voice yelled, "PEEVES! Peeves, come down here at ONCE!"

Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and head of Gryffindor House, had come dashing out of the Great Hall; she skidded on the wet floor and grabbed Hermione around the neck to stop herself from falling.

"Ouch—sorry, Miss Granger—"

"That's all right, Professor!" Hermione gasped, massaging her throat.

"Peeves, get down here NOW!" barked Professor McGonagall, straightening her pointed hat and glaring upward through her square-rimmed spectacles.

"You better run," Cassie suggested, smirking at the poltergeist.

"Not doing nothing!" cackled Peeves, lobbing a water bomb at several fifth-year girls, who screamed and dived into the Great Hall. "Already wet, aren't they? Little squirts! Wheeeeeeeeee!" He aimed another bomb at a group of second years who had just arrived.

"I shall call the headmaster!" shouted Professor McGonagall. "I'm warning you, Peeves—"

Peeves stuck out his tongue, threw the last of his water bombs into the air, and zoomed off up the marble staircase, cackling insanely.

"Well, move along, then!" said Professor McGonagall sharply to the bedraggled crowd. "Into the Great Hall, come on!"

Cassie, Draco, Theo, and the rest of the Slytherins followed the crowd, listening to Draco whine because the rain had ruined his perfect hairstyle.

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 a fifth table, facing their pupils. It was much warmer in here.

As the group passed the Gryffindors, they received nasty looks as usual, which Cassie and theo returned with equal disdain.  They continued walking toward the far end of the Slytherin table, where they found seats together.

"I'm starving," Blaze grumbled as they settled into their seats at the Slytherin table.

"Again?" Cassie asked incredulously.

Blaze nodded, grinning widely. "What can I say? I'm a growing boy."

"Haven't you grown enough?" Cassie grumbled.

"Not really, you're just short," Blaze snorted.

The hall chattered as the professors set everything up for the Sorting, which, according to Blaze, was not a valid reason to delay the feast. The Bloody Baron floated towards them, pale, pearly-white, and slightly transparent. His wide, staring black eyes and gaunt face gave him a menacing appearance, further accentuated by the ruff collar over his robes, which were covered in silver bloodstains.

"If it isn't our favorite scary ghost," Cassie greeted delightfully.

The Baron grunted in response. "Black, don't get into too much trouble this year. I'm tired of hearing that headless ghost gloat about his trophies."

Cassie smirked. "Don't worry, Baron—won't get caught this time."

"Or you could just lead a quiet year," Pansy suggested, but the group immediately broke into laughter at the ridiculous idea.

"Can't believe you let that Gryffindor ghost get to you, Baron," Theo said disappointedly, his tone almost mocking.

"He still parades his 'nearly headless' state as if it's something to be proud of," the Baron grunted.

"I'd say your bloodstains are much more impressive," Cassie said.

"Hear, hear," Draco said, raising the empty glass in front of him.

The Baron almost broke into what one would call an attempt at a smile before floating away.

"Who do you think will be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?" Pansy spoke up.

Everyone collectively turned to the staff table. Tiny little Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was sitting on a large pile of cushions beside Professor Sprout, the Herbology teacher, whose hat was askew over her flyaway gray hair. She was talking to Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department. On Professor Sinistra's other side was the sallow-faced, hook-nosed, greasy-haired Potions master, Snape—

"Is it just me, or does Snape look greasier than usual?" Cassie scowled.

On Snape's other side was an empty seat, which Cassie guessed was Professor McGonagall's. Next to it, and in the very center of the table, sat Professor Dumbledore. 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.

"Look at him think," Cassie sneered. "Probably thinking what bunch of kids he should manipulate next."

"What?" Blaze said at the abrupt remark.

"Nothing," Cassie sighed, turning back to the group.

"Whoever it is, I hope they stick around," Draco said.

The words were no sooner out of his mouth than 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.

Professor McGonagall now placed a three-legged stool on the ground before the first years and, on top of it, an extremely old, dirty, patched wizard's hat. The first years 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 planTo educate young sorcerersThus Hogwarts School began.Now each of these four foundersFormed their own house,for each Did value different virtuesIn 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,Yet how to pick the worthy onesWhen they were dead and gone?'Twas Gryffindor who found the way,He whipped me off his headThe founders put some brains in meSo I could choose instead!Now slip me snug about your ears,I've never yet been wrong,I'll have a look inside your mindAnd tell where you belong

Professor McGonagall was now unrolling 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."

As the Sorting took place, one by one the little first years went timidly and sat on the stool, waiting to be sorted and then walking off into the respective tables. 

Cassie thought it would be a good idea to send up huge sparkly snakes every time a first year was sorted into Slytherin (despite Blaze's whines that the blasts hurt his sensitive ears). She received a lot of looks for it—which, according to Cassie, were jealous looks because they hadn't thought of it first. But the Weasley twins narrowed their eyes and hissed every time she did that, which made it worth it.

And finally, with "Whitby, Kevin!" ("HUFFLEPUFF!"), the Sorting ended. Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and the stool and carried them away.

"About time," said Blaze , 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 opened wide in welcome.

"I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."

The tables immediately filled with a feast fit for a king, and the students wasted no time digging in.

"This is more like it," Blaze said, already piling his plate high with roast chicken and potatoes.

the group took in the vast array of food laid out before them. Golden plates gleamed under the candlelight, piled high with roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, and lamb chops; sausages, bacon, and steak; boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, mint humbugs.

Cassie picked at her food, Beside her, Blaze was enthusiastically devouring everything within reach, his fork and knife working overtime.

"You should try the pudding," Pansy suggested, offering Cassie a piece from her plate. "It's divine."

"She doesn't like that," Theo said suddenly.

Cassie turned to him, impressed. "How did you know?"

"Please. The way you crumple your nose and recoil whenever you see it since first year," Theo said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Cassie smirked and reached for the last piece of cake. "Been staring at me a lot, Nott?"

Theo just looked down, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. He didn't say anything, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward in a barely perceptible smile.

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 all. "Now that we are all fed and watered, 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 has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

Theo snorted loudly. The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. 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."

Gryffindors broke out in indignant shouts and gasps.

"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 all 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 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 toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward 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 limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling.

Cassie's eyes narrowed at the feeling—almost like the one she got at the World Cup—a weird energy, 

The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief. "Fucking hell," Cassie gasped. "That's Alastor fucking Moody—"

"The one who got all those Death Eaters arrested," Theo added in awe.

Cassie nodded, taking in the legendary man. Maybe that's what the uneasy feeling was, she thought. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the 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. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words Cassie couldn't hear. He 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.

The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then 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 too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.

Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again into his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it. As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a few inches from the ground.

"As I was saying," Dumbledore said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom 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 Triwizard 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? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament... well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.

"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some 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 tournament 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—until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued.

"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 forward their names for consideration."

Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words. "The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter 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 the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.

"Do you think Krum would come?" Draco said dreamily. "Or Cole?" he said excitedly to Cassie, who didn't look pleased at the prospect of meeting that charming Quidditch prodigy.

"I hope not," Theo grumbled under his breath.

***************************************

oh how i hope he does

also- still loving peeeves- they are so adorable

- also i had this draft ready for so long- but i have been ill since 3 days so just edited this- i really couldnt get out of my bed- and my area was on a red alert for rain

but its all fine- rain ceased- i feel better (bless whoever invented adrak kadak chai-)

hope yall are doing gr8 too!!!!

till next time

mxriddle