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Simulated lightning flashed across the ceiling, followed by a blinding white flash that instantly illuminated the figure and face of the newcomer.
He was a man who looked weathered and even somewhat terrifying. His face was covered in scars of varying depths; some looked like they had been left by sharp weapons, while others resembled traces of magical burns or explosions, making his countenance appear particularly hideous.
And of his eyes, the left one was normal, while the right one was a fake eye that spun incessantly.
That fake eye seemed to possess a life and vision of its own, darting around with extreme speed, scanning every corner and every face within the Great Hall.
Lynn's chewing motion paused slightly. That feeling of being scrutinized made him very uncomfortable.
Beside him, Edgar was clearly startled by this uninvited guest; he shrank his neck and quietly nudged Lynn with his elbow.
Lowering his voice, he spoke rapidly, "It's Mad-Eye Moody! Alastor Moody! Ever heard of him? He used to be the ace of the Auror Office. He's been retired for years, but they say the Dark Wizards he's caught could fill half of Azkaban! He's incredibly fierce!"
"Oh." Lynn withdrew his gaze and continued cutting his pork chop, his tone flat. "Then he's quite impressive."
A retired Auror who specialized in catching Dark Wizards? This entrance certainly lived up to the rumors.
Seeing Lynn's flat reaction, Edgar seemed to think he didn't realize the "seriousness" of the matter. He leaned in closer, his voice even lower, almost whispering, "He specialized in catching Dark Wizards. He caught a lot of Dark Wizards."
Lynn's motion of cutting meat stopped.
He turned his head and saw Edgar's face, which was practically screaming, "You know what I mean, right?"
"No? What do you mean?" Lynn also lowered his voice, though his tone carried a hint of helplessness.
He naturally understood what Edgar was implying—his roommates all knew he had "profound accomplishments" in the Dark Arts.
Edgar gave a sheepish laugh, his eyes wandering. "Well... I'm just reminding you. The new Professor looks... well, exceptionally 'professional' and exceptionally 'vigilant.' You should still be careful."
Lynn: "..."
He rolled his eyes at Edgar and returned his attention to the food.
By now, Moody had withdrawn his scan of the entire hall—at least with his normal eye.
Ignoring the students' stares, he limped toward the High Table with an extremely cautious stride.
His posture was as if a student might jump out at any moment and hit him with a jinx.
Dumbledore had already stood up, wearing his usual gentle smile, clearly quite accustomed to Moody's battle-ready way of walking.
He reached out and shook hands with Moody; the two lowered their heads and exchanged a few quick words, their voices so low that even the nearest teachers couldn't hear them.
Afterward, Dumbledore smiled and gestured for Moody to take the empty seat on the right side of the staff table.
Dumbledore faced the Great Hall again and raised his voice. "While everyone is enjoying their meal, please allow me to interrupt. I am pleased to introduce to you our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor for this school year—Professor Alastor Moody!"
"I believe that with Professor Moody's rich practical experience and profound understanding of the Dark Arts, he will surely bring you all a highly valuable course."
Dumbledore finished speaking.
An awkward silence fell over the Great Hall.
Applause? It was sparse, almost negligible.
Most students simply stared blankly at the new Professor on the staff table, who was using his own small silver knife to spear a sausage, sniffing it cautiously before putting it into his mouth.
Compared to Lupin last year and Lockhart the year before, the atmosphere was worse by more than just a little.
Moody himself didn't care at all—or rather, his entire attention was focused on his dinner and the security assessment of his surroundings.
He chewed his sausage while that fake eye continued scanning various parts of the Great Hall, especially the windows and entrances; it looked as though he was calculating the best defense and evacuation routes.
Dumbledore looked at the students' reactions, then at Moody, who was focused on tackling his sausage. His smile remained unchanged; he merely blinked, then very decisively sat back down to continue eating his own treacle tart.
...Time passed amidst food and conversation.
When the desserts that appeared after the main course had also been cleared away by the Hogwarts students, Dumbledore stood up once more.
This time, the Great Hall quickly quieted down; the students knew the Principal was about to announce important matters for the new school year.
"While everyone is still immersed in the joy of reunion and anticipation for the new school year," Dumbledore said, his voice still gentle but carrying a rare hint of solemnity, "I regret to inform you of some news—after careful discussion between the Professors and the Board of Governors, Hogwarts will no longer be hosting the Inter-House Quidditch Cup this year."
"What?!!!"
"No—!"
"Why?!"
This time, the students' reactions were countless times more intense than when they had welcomed Moody earlier.
Protests, wails, and incredulous gasps instantly exploded from the four long tables. In the Wizarding World, where entertainment was relatively scarce, Quidditch and wizard chess were almost the most important sources of pastime and passion for students between and after classes.
The Quidditch Cup was an event that spanned the entire school year, the ultimate stage for house honor and individual performance.
Now Dumbledore's casual statement that it "would no longer be hosted" was practically killing these Quidditch fans. Even some students with little interest in the matches felt disappointed and confused by this sudden news.
Dumbledore waited quietly for a few seconds, allowing the students' shock and protests to fully ferment. The Principal was clearly well-versed in the art of dramatic pauses.
When the waves of noise subsided slightly, Dumbledore continued unhurriedly:
"This is because our limited grounds and the energy of the Professors need to be invested in a grander, more exciting, and also more challenging international event—the Triwizard Tournament, which has been suspended for centuries, will be resumed at Hogwarts this year!"
The Great Hall fell silent. Many younger students looked bewildered, while the older students and those familiar with History of Magic instantly widened their eyes.
But Dumbledore wasn't finished.
"Moreover, through the efforts of the Ministry of Magic, this event will no longer be the traditional Triwizard Tournament, but rather—the Hexawizard Tournament!"
"In addition to Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang, Uagadou School of Magic from Africa, Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from North America, and Castelobruxo from South America will also send their champions to compete!"
One could only say that the Ministry of Magic, led by Cornelius Fudge, had finally accomplished a "big thing," although the motives behind it might be quite complex.
The entire Great Hall seemed to have been hit by a Silencing Charm, remaining completely quiet for a good three or four seconds.
Then—
An unprecedentedly massive buzz swept through the entire hall. The students could no longer sit still; many jumped directly from their benches in excitement.
"The Triwizard Tournament?! Oh, Merlin!"
"My dad told me his grandfather participated in the last Triwizard Tournament!"
Dumbledore had to raise his hand again to signal for silence.
"I know many of you are eager to represent Hogwarts and win honor for the school in this historic event."
His gaze swept over those eager older students. "However, all participating schools and the Ministry of Magic, after careful consideration, have unanimously agreed that an age limit must be set for this year's competitors. Only students who have reached the age of seventeen will be allowed to enter."
"What?!"
"That's not fair!"
"I just turned sixteen!"
"It's only a few months away!"
The excitement that had just surged was instantly doused with cold water. Protests rang out again, especially from those students who were close to the required age but not quite there.
"Oh! Dammit!" Edgar beat his chest and stamped his feet, looking utterly devastated. "Why couldn't it be fourteen? Even fifteen would be fine!"
He was only fourteen this year, still a long three years away from seventeen, which meant he was completely excluded from this potentially once-in-a-lifetime event.
However, Dumbledore clearly knew how to keep people in suspense and offer them hope.
Just as the younger students were lamenting and the older students were bracing themselves, he blinked and slowly added:
"Of course, the age limit is set to protect young Wizards, to prevent them from facing dangers they cannot handle. This is a necessary safety measure."
His tone shifted subtly.
"However... this magic is not without its flaws. If any among you can find some... well, clever way to 'bypass' or 'circumvent' this age-restricting magic without being detected—"
He deliberately drew out his words.
"Then, theoretically, you may still attempt to throw your name into the Goblet of Fire to participate in the selection."
This news was undoubtedly like a shot of adrenaline, injecting a glimmer of hope into those students who were underage but unwilling to give up.
There's a chance! At least there's a chance, right?
Although it sounded difficult, it was still better than an outright death sentence. Many clever minds had already begun spinning rapidly, thinking of possible ways to "circumvent" the magic.
Finally, Dumbledore raised his voice again, drowning out the new round of excited discussion below, and announced the final blockbuster piece of news:
"Furthermore, after consultation with the various schools, in order to more comprehensively display each school's educational achievements and student quality, and also to increase the diversity and spectacle of the competition—for this Triwizard Tournament, each participating school will no longer select one champion, but three!"
This time, even those older students who originally felt they weren't competitive enough had their eyes light up completely.
Three slots! This meant more possibilities!
"The Goblet of Fire will select three champions for each school on the eve of Halloween," Dumbledore concluded. "In the coming months, please focus on your studies. To those who wish to try, please remember that the tournament is no child's play; the dangers it contains are real and severe."
Warm and persistent applause finally rang out this time.
The opening feast came to an end amidst such explosive news.