the badger and the lion.

Weasley's Waltz

The Triwizard Tournament.

So that's what Mrs. Weasley had been hinting to earlier today.

Dumbledore's words were still ringing in your ears as you scraped a piece of your treacle tart off your plate and into your mouth. Every student in the room was talking excitedly about the announcement, and you had to admit, you were excited, too. It was something that hadn't taken place in a century, and by the sounds of it, the competition was going to be intense. But with the Triwizard tournament taking place this year, it meant that the Interhouse Quidditch matches this year was going to be cancelled. It felt like a giant cleaver had been thrown in your chest as Dumbledore delivered the devastating blow of news, and made Angelina turn pale and Fred and George speechless.

"I'm so full," Fred exclaimed next to you, leaning his head on your shoulder as he scrunched up his face.

"I told you not to have a third helping of tiramisu," you said. "But you just didn't listen."

You carved your spoon into your tart again, and you could see that Fred had opened up his mouth, hoping that you would give him that bite.

"What do you think you're doing?" you asked him.

"Sharing," he said. You rolled your eyes at him, and rested your spoon at the level of his head. He took the spoon from your hand, and popped it into his mouth, and chewed unenthusiastically on account of him not really being hungry, but still wanting to eat something.

You looked up to the head table where all the professors were now sitting, talking amongst themselves. You noticed in the middle of the table where Dumbledore was sitting, the newly introduced Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Mad Eye Moody, was leaning down to speak with the headmaster. Earlier that evening, he had stormed into the Hall with a great thud that resonated through the room as Dumbledore was about to announce the tournament, sending an uneasy feeling through everyone who witnessed his hideously scarred face, bulging fake eye and scraggly damp hair as he walked stooped over towards the front of the room.

"You've got to be joking," you muttered to Fred as you noticed the sound of a muted clunk of metal on concrete with every step he took. "That isn't Mad Eye Moody? The one your dad was talking about this morning?"

You remembered back to when you had woken up at the Burrow to hear Mr. Weasley and Mr. Diggory discuss the supposed 'break-in' at Moody's place of residence.

"That would be him," Fred said back, not able to take his eyes off the new teacher as he sat in an empty place along the table.

You observed the man closer now, noticing even from the back of the room the unreal features on his pale skin. The scarring was the worst part - it was raised, lumpy and distorted his proportions. His mouth was small, almost as it was formed by some sort of blade that slashed his face. And his eye. There was what looked like one normal one, small and beady, and the other one was unable to be dismissed - it was a large, white sclera with an electric blue iris, and from what you could see, it seemed to be rolling around on its own. He reached into his cloak pocket, and pulled out his own flask, taking a large swig from it and twitched his head almost in repulsion. You couldn't explain it, and you didn't know if you were being prejudiced towards him, but your gut was telling you that this man was not to be trusted.

Students were beginning to leave the hall to go up to their dormitories after the desserts began to clear from the long tables. You placed your fork in the middle of your plate, and watched it magically vanish in front of you. George stood up next to his brother, and scraped back the bench you were sitting on, ready to head up to the dorms. You stood up too, and began to walk out of the hall.