Avada sat stiffly against the back of his chair, his eyes fixed blankly on the ceiling above the Great Hall of Hogwarts, which had gradually darkened along with the sky outside. Beneath that enchanted ceiling floated thousands of already lit candles, and faintly echoing in his ears was the rumbling growl of his own stomach...
He had never felt this uncomfortable before.
Because at the moment, he was the only student sitting in the entire hall, while the teachers' table was already completely filled with professors waiting for the students to arrive. He alone sat there, miserably isolated, enduring the gaze of nearly every professor in Hogwarts...
Of course, with the exception of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
That seat was still empty. But if nothing unexpected happened, it should still be Alastor Moody occupying it—and most likely the real one.
Starting from last week, Avada had finally been able to get out of bed again and begin rehabilitation training. Thankfully, thanks to the convenience of magic—and his own attainments in the field—repairing a body weakened by muscle atrophy was not particularly difficult. After only one week, his figure had basically recovered to how it had been before he fell unconscious, and his complexion had improved quite a bit as well, though overall he still looked somewhat lean.
After all, the Triwizard Tournament involved real combat. Aside from magic, it also placed considerable demands on physical fitness—especially for a rookie newbie like him, whose number of actual battles since entering the magical world could be counted on one hand.
"Come to think of it, ever since I enrolled at Hogwarts, I've only had three proper fights in total. One against the fake Baker, one sparring session with Baron, and one short exchange with the real Professor Baker... and that's it?"
While doing his best to focus on the night sky overhead and pretend not to notice the line of professors in the distance occasionally glancing his way, Avada silently calculated what it would be like if he really ended up participating in the Triwizard Tournament.
"And one of those was with prior knowledge, one was just ordinary training, and one used a fake body... So does that mean I personally don't even have a single real, honest-to-goodness combat experience?"
"Would that be a weakness compared to the other champions?"
Creak—
Just as he was mulling it over, the distant doors finally gave a heavy groan. At once came a surge of voices spilling through the gap—and in the next moment, the Hogwarts students from second year and above flooded through the not-yet-fully-opened doors.
"Ken!"
Someone spotted Avada at the Hufflepuff table immediately and waved while shouting a greeting. Nearly all the Hufflepuffs quickened their pace and gathered around him. Instead of sitting down right away, they all began peppering him with greetings and questions. As for acquaintances from the other houses, the moment they saw Avada, their eyes lit up and they first headed back to their own tables, clearly planning to have a proper chat with him after the start-of-term feast ended...
"How's your recovery? You look like you're in pretty good shape now."
His long-unseen roommates, along with Cedric—the one in Hufflepuff who probably talked with him the most—almost immediately took the seats beside him and began curiously looking over their old friend, whom they had not seen for more than four months, while greeting him one after another. Avada replied happily to every question.
At last, he no longer had to bear all the professors' attention by himself.
"Oh, not bad. I was able to get out of bed a week ago..."
"Prefect? You know, if you hadn't mentioned it, I would've forgotten... I never got the badge. Dumbledore probably figured I might not even wake up before school started."
"Don't be in such a hurry to pity me. I actually gained something unexpected from this coma... What is it? Heh, secret. I'll tell you after a while."
"The Quidditch World Cup? How did it end? Did it go smoothly?"
"No trouble at all?? Uh, I mean... those football hooligans didn't start fighting?"
"Ludo Bagman and Viktor Krum almost got into an argument? That was the only accident? Everything else went smoothly?"
"...Everyone quiet down, the new students are coming!"
No one knew who suddenly shouted that, but the previously noisy Great Hall fell silent all at once. Every older student abruptly put on a solemn expression and sat up straight...
Not long afterward, the Great Hall doors slowly opened again.
Professor McGonagall led a long line of first-year students to the front of the hall. But unlike in previous years, these new students were all dripping wet from head to toe, as though instead of crossing by boat, they had swum across the lake. They lined up beside the teachers' table and stopped, facing the entire school. Cold and nervous, they were all shivering—one especially short boy was even wrapped in Hagrid's moleskin overcoat, making him look as though he were wearing a tent. He had probably just been fished out of the lake...
Professor McGonagall placed a three-legged stool on the floor in front of the new students, then set the patched, grimy old Sorting Hat on top of it. After that, she picked up a parchment that had already been prepared beside her.
"When I call 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."
"Stewart Ackerley!"
"Ravenclaw!"
"Malcolm Baddock!"
"Slytherin!"
"Eleanor Branstone!"
"Hufflepuff!"
...
"Kevin Whitby!"
"Hufflepuff!"
Once all the new students had completed the Sorting Ceremony and taken their places at their respective house tables, Headmaster Dumbledore rose once more. Smiling as he looked down at the students below, who were already poised to pounce with knives and forks in hand, he spread his arms and said loudly:
"Excellent. Now then, I will say only one word—"
"Fe—"
Bang!
The Great Hall doors, which had just been closed, flew open again with a thunderous crash, revealing a man standing in the doorway. He leaned on a long staff and was wrapped in a black traveling cloak. Everyone in the hall turned to stare at the stranger as he pulled back his hood, shaking loose a mass of long gray-white hair, and began limping toward the teachers' table. And with every step he took, there came a clunking sound, as though two hard objects were striking against each other...
Then, as he drew nearer, every student who got a clear look at his face sucked in a sharp breath.
That face looked as though the clumsiest carpenter imaginable had tried to carve it by force out of a block of rotten wood. But what was even more startling were his eyes: one eye was tiny, while the other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid bright blue. That blue eye never blinked. It kept darting and rolling ceaselessly, completely independent of the normal one.
And among everyone startled by the arrival of that stranger, the most shocked of all was Avada, who had just been holding his knife and fork.
"This Moody... is fake too?"
(End of Chapter)