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Outside the castle, rain began falling with a patter. Before long, the light rain became heavy rain, accompanied from time to time by thunder, lightning, and strong wind.
But none of this affected the young wizards sitting inside the castle.
The Sorting Ceremony ended quickly, and Dumbledore seemed to have no intention of waiting for the newly arrived wizard. He announced that the feast would begin.
Dish after dish of steaming food appeared along the long tables.
All of it had been prepared by the house-elves of Hogwarts Castle.
Dudley had just cut off a piece of lamb chop and was preparing to enjoy it when the doors of the Great Hall were pushed open roughly.
All teachers and students looked toward the entrance at the same time.
An older wizard with somewhat thinning hair appeared outside the doors. He was soaked through, as if he had been caught in a great deal of rain.
In his hand, he held a heavy staff. Each time it struck the floor, it made a dull sound and left behind a puddle of water.
His eye, or more accurately the eye on the left side, bulged outward. It spun around like a surveillance device, scanning in every direction. It looked extremely frightening.
His face was covered in old scars and looked like weathered wood. A large chunk of flesh was missing from the place where his nose should have been.
Mad-Eye Moody. Former Auror. An old wizard who had once rendered outstanding service to the Ministry. Half the prisoners in Azkaban had been captured by him personally.
Moody's face carried no expression, neither joy nor anger. His whole body gave off an air that warned others not to approach. Ignoring the eyes of all teachers and students, he limped toward the staff table.
The young wizards, especially the new first-years, were intimidated by his presence and hardly dared breathe loudly.
"Hermione, it is a little cold here. Put this on."
The instant the one-eyed wizard pushed open the doors, Dudley thoughtfully draped an outer coat over Hermione.
The reason was simple.
According to what he knew, Mad-Eye Moody's strange moving left eye was not a normal eyeball but an artificial magical eye.
It could see through walls, concealment, the back of his own head, and even Invisibility Cloaks.
In theory, privacy barely existed in front of it.
Fortunately, the real Moody was not the sort of man to abuse it.
Well, the person currently playing "Moody" should only be a madman.
Moody swept his gaze around. When his gaze finally landed on Dudley, or more accurately on Dudley and Hermione, it paused for half a second.
His magical eye, which could see through disguises, had actually failed.
Moody did not know why. However, this was clearly not the time to discuss it. After scanning the hall once, he immediately walked toward Dumbledore.
Dumbledore stepped forward and warmly welcomed this "old friend."
If there had truly been another choice, he would not have been willing to invite this old friend out. At Moody's current age, resting at home would have been the best choice.
All right, the main reason was that Moody handled matters rather extremely.
"Allow me to introduce everyone. This is Alastor Moody, your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."
"If any of the older students wish to become Aurors, you may learn from Professor Moody."
Along with Dumbledore's introduction, thunderous applause rang through the hall.
Moody's unique entrance had attracted the attention of many young wizards.
Quite a few familiar with his deeds began whispering below.
An elite among Aurors. A model among wizards. A lifetime spent in battle. Countless contributions to the Ministry. More Dark wizards captured than anyone could count.
Hearing this made many young wizards' blood run hot, especially the Gryffindors. They looked as if they wished they could go capture Dark wizards alongside Moody and become Aurors after graduation.
But being strong was one thing. Being formidable was one thing.
Teaching was another matter entirely.
Everyone was very curious about the teaching style of this new professor, this former elite Auror.
If he reached half of Professor Lupin's level, that would be enough. No, even thirty percent would be acceptable.
The young wizards had lowered their requirements for professors again and again.
No matter how poor a professor was, how could he compare with Lockhart?
Fourth-year Defense Against the Dark Arts was scheduled for Friday morning. Before that, they still had an entire week of other subjects.
Charms, Transfiguration, and the like were temporarily all right. They were mostly the usual explanations of gestures and intonation. Aside from learning new spells, there was nothing especially unusual.
But the afternoon Care of Magical Creatures lesson was much more explosive.
Hagrid had obtained a large pile of strange creatures.
They were slimy, grayish-white, and it was impossible to tell where their heads were. They resembled giant lobsters without shells.
Most importantly, these things constantly gave off the smell of rotten fish and spoiled shrimp.
Blast-Ended Skrewts.
They were a brand-new species bred from Manticores and Fire Crabs.
The key point was that Hagrid had not had time to register them with the Ministry. In theory, this counted as illegal breeding. If the Ministry regulations were enforced strictly, Hagrid could probably earn himself several trips to Azkaban in a single year.
Hagrid happily asked the young wizards to form small groups and adopt one Blast-Ended Skrewt each as the focus of this term's Care of Magical Creatures lessons.
From his tone, he hoped the young wizards would make something like a growth diary for them.
Incidentally, although Blast-Ended Skrewts had not yet received an official Ministry danger classification, their danger level was certainly around XXXX. They were aggressive toward humans. Even though the ones in front of the young wizards were only hatchlings, one mistake could be very dangerous.
Crossbred magical creatures had one particular trait: their intelligence was not very good. The direct result of poor intelligence was that once they went mad, they would even attack their handlers.
Most importantly, their tempers were terrible. They would attack their own kind and even kill and eat one another.
Aside from Hagrid, who loved Blast-Ended Skrewts far beyond reason, the other young wizards were not fond of them at all.
There was no helping it. Hagrid's favorites were always dangerous things like these.
"Look at these little darlings."
Hagrid held a piece of frog liver and teased a young Blast-Ended Skrewt with it. The creature not only failed to appreciate it, but also sprayed a small burst of explosive flame from its rear, hitting the back of Hagrid's hand. The burst burned away all the hair on his hand, yet Hagrid chuckled happily.
The young wizards behind him all retreated in unison. They were not Hagrid and did not have skin that thick. If that thing sprayed their hands, it would mean at least a moderate burn.
Dudley looked at the Blast-Ended Skrewts thoughtfully.
Adult Blast-Ended Skrewts were genuinely dangerous. They could grow to ten feet in height. Their hard shells could reflect spells, and they could spray explosive flames from their tails.
He simply did not know whether Blast-Ended Skrewts were immune to the Imperius Curse.
If not, forming a small unit made of Blast-Ended Skrewts would have considerable destructive power.
Bad temper, strong aggression, inability to distinguish friend from foe. Under the Imperius Curse, none of those problems would matter.
The days of study passed quickly. Before long, Friday arrived.
Today was Defense Against the Dark Arts day.
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