ARCANE - G. WEASLEY

9

A figure stands tall in the entrance, supported by a lengthy staff, draped in a dark travelling cloak. All eyes in the Great Hall pivot towards the newcomer, abruptly illuminated by a bolt of lightning that streaked across the rooftop.

As he lowers his hood, a cascade of long, grizzled dark grey hair spills forth, framing his weathered face. With each step, a dull clunk reverberates through the Hall, drawing the attention of those around him. He approaches the teachers' table with a determined gait, his heavy limp causing him to sway slightly. Finally, reaching the end of the table, he turns right and continues on his path towards Dumbledore.

Reyna gasped as yet another bolt of lightning illuminated the room, revealing the man's face in stark detail. It was a visage unlike any she had ever beheld as if it had been hewn from aged timber by an amateur sculptor with a rudimentary understanding of human facial features and little skill with a chisel.

Every inch of the man's skin seemed to be scarred. His mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of his nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him the most frightening. One of them was small, dark, and beady.

The other eye was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue, strapped onto his face. The blue eye was moving out of control, rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye, and then it rolls right over, pointing into the back of the man's head so that all they could see was whiteness.

"Mad-Eye Moody," Reyna murmurs, staring at the revered auror.

"No way," George gasps, gawking at the man. "The greatest Auror of all time"

"Auror?" Harry asks, looking at the older students for answers.

"Dark wizard catcher, each country has a department," Reyna informs the boy. "Mad-Eye Moody was one of the most formidable Aurors during the first wizarding war. Half the cells of Azkaban are full because of him. But the fights weren't always easy, Evan Rosier took a chunk of his nose and his eye"

"Not in his prime anymore though," Fred shakes his head, a slight disappointment in his tone. "Aurors are at his house every other day for any slight noise, last time they went there was a cat in the bins"

They watch the wizard lift a hip flask to his lips before taking two gulps of the contents. A violent shudder wracks his body as his throat bobs as if holding back a gag. Reyna frowns at the man's reaction, noticing a small droplet of green liquid on the corner of his mouth.

"Is that-" Reyna leans forward but the man is quick to wipe it away.

"What do you reckon he's drinking?" Ron asks.

"Whatever it is, I don't think it's pumpkin juice," Harry states as Barty Crouch approaches the podium.

"After much deliberation, the ministry has concluded that for their own safety, no student under the age of seventeen shall be allowed to put forth their name for the tri-wizard tournament. This decision is final"

As Crouch's words settle with the crowd, a reaction from the ineligible students is immediate. Boos and cries of outrage fill the hall as people begin to heckle the Ministry official.

"That's rubbish! You don't know what you're doing!"

"That's rubbish!"

"Silence!" Dumbledore's voice bellows over the shouting.

In front of the magnificent golden owl podium, there stands a stunning decorative wooden box. The Headmaster's wand moves gracefully in the air, and with a slow wave, the box vanishes, unveiling a rune-inscribed wooden goblet. The goblet is enchanting, with blue-white flames flickering inside, as if they are dancing in a harsh wind.

"The goblet of fire," Dumbledore informs the student. "Anyone wishing to submit themselves for the tournament merely writes their name upon a piece of parchment and throws it in the flame before this hour on Thursday night. Do not do so lightly, if chosen there's no turning back. From this moment, the tri-wizard tournament has begun"

"This is very dramatic," Reyna murmurs. "If it's students participating, how dangerous can these tasks truly be?"