Outside the castle, it began to rain, and soon the light drizzle turned into a downpour, accompanied by occasional thunder and strong winds.
But this had no effect on the young wizards sitting inside the castle.
The Sorting Ceremony quickly came to an end, and Dumbledore seemed to have no intention of waiting for the latecomers, announcing that dinner would begin.
One by one, beautiful, delicious, and steaming dishes appeared on the long tables.
These were all made by the Hogwarts house-elves.
Just as Dudley cut a piece of lamb chop and was about to enjoy it, the doors to the Great Hall were thrown open rudely.
All the teachers and students turned their heads in unison to look at the entrance.
A rather thin-haired, elderly-looking wizard appeared in the doorway of the hall. He was soaked to the bone, looking like he'd been caught in a fierce storm.
He leaned on a heavy walking stick, and each time it hit the floor, it made a dull thud, leaving a wet puddle behind.
His eye, or rather, the left one, bulged outwards and spun around 360 degrees like a surveillance camera, looking quite terrifying.
His face was covered in scars, looking like old, decaying wood, and a large piece of flesh was missing from his nose.
Mad-Eye Moody, the former Auror... a veteran wizard who had accomplished great deeds for the Ministry of Magic. Half the prisoners in Azkaban had been captured by his own hands.
There was no expression on Moody's face—no joy, no anger. He exuded an aura that told people to stay away, and he limped his way towards the staff table, completely ignoring the students.
The young wizards, especially the first-years, were so intimidated by his presence that they didn't even dare to breathe.
"Hermione, it's a bit chilly in here... put this on."
The moment the one-eyed wizard pushed the doors open, Dudley thoughtfully placed a jacket over Hermione's shoulders.
The reason?
According to the lore, Mad-Eye Moody's strange, shifting left eye wasn't a normal eyeball but a man-made magical one.
It could see through everything around him, penetrating walls, clothes, his own head, and even Invisibility Cloaks.
In theory, every young wizard in the room was standing stark naked in front of him.
Luckily, this fellow wasn't a pervert, or a gentleman (or rather, a weirdo).
Hmm... the one playing the part of 'Moody' right now should just be a lunatic.
Moody scanned the room, and his gaze lingered on Dudley and Hermione for half a second.
His 'magical eye,' which could see through any disguise, had somehow failed.
Moody didn't know why this was happening, but it clearly wasn't the time to think about it. After a quick scan, he headed straight for Dumbledore.
Dumbledore stepped forward and warmly greeted his 'old friend.'
If there had been any other suitable candidate, he truly wouldn't have wanted to ask his old friend to come out of retirement. At his age, staying home to rest was the best option...
All right, the main reason was that Moody tended to be quite extreme in his methods.
---
"I would like to introduce you to Alastor Moody, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor."
"If any of you older students are hoping to become Aurors, you can certainly learn a thing or two from Professor Moody."
Following Dumbledore's introduction, the hall erupted in thunderous applause.
Moody's unique entrance had captured the attention of many students.
Many of those who knew his stories began to whisper amongst themselves.
An elite Auror, a wizard's role model, a man who had dedicated his life to fighting for the Ministry of Magic, capturing so many dark wizards that they were impossible to count.
Hearing this made many young wizards' blood surge, especially the Gryffindors, who couldn't wait to join Moody in capturing dark wizards, vowing to become an Auror after graduation.
But being strong and powerful was one thing... whether he could actually teach was another.
Everyone was curious about the teaching style of this new professor, the former elite Auror.
Just five-tenths of Professor Lupin's standard would be fine... no, even three-tenths would do.
The students had already lowered their expectations for the professor again and again.
How could any professor be worse than Lockhart, after all?
Fourth-year Defence Against the Dark Arts was scheduled for Friday morning, and before that, they had to spend an entire week on other subjects.
Charms and Transfiguration were okay for now—all the same gestures and detailed incantations. Nothing too special besides learning a few new spells.
But the afternoon's Care of Magical Creatures class was much more exciting.
Hagrid had brought in a whole bunch of strange creatures.
They were slimy, grayish-white, and had no discernible head, looking like peeled lobsters.
Most importantly, they constantly gave off a smell of rotten fish.
Blast-Ended Skrewts.
A new species bred from a Manticore and a Fire Crab.
The key was that Hagrid hadn't even registered them with the Ministry of Magic yet, so technically, he was breeding them illegally... if the Ministry's rules were strictly enforced, Hagrid would be in Azkaban eight times a year.
Hagrid was overjoyed as he told the students to form groups and adopt a Blast-Ended Skrewt to be the subject of their Care of Magical Creatures class for the semester.
Judging by his tone, he hoped the students would keep a growth diary for them.
It's worth mentioning... that even though the Ministry of Magic hadn't determined a danger level for the Blast-Ended Skrewts, it was safe to say their danger rating was at least 4X. They were known to be aggressive towards humans, and even though the students had a group of young ones in front of them, they could be very dangerous if handled improperly.
These fantastic creatures bred from cross-species had a unique trait: they weren't very intelligent. The direct result of their lack of intelligence was that once they got worked up, they would even attack their own owners.
Besides Hagrid, who thought the Blast-Ended Skrewts were fascinatingly cute, the other students weren't too keen on the creatures.
But what could they do? Hagrid just loved these dangerous things the most.
"Look at these little darlings," Hagrid said, teasing a young Blast-Ended Skrewt with a frog liver. But the creature wasn't in the mood; instead, it shot a small spurt of fire from its rear. The blast of flame burned off all the hair on Hagrid's hand, but it only made him laugh delightedly.
This sight made the students behind him take a collective step back. They weren't Hagrid; they didn't have his thick skin. If that thing sprayed their hand, it would at least be a second-degree burn.
Dudley, however, was watching the Blast-Ended Skrewt with a thoughtful look.
Adult Blast-Ended Skrewts were quite formidable in a fight. They could grow to ten feet tall, their hard shells could deflect spells, and they could shoot explosive fire from their tails.
He just wondered if the Blast-Ended Skrewts were immune to the Imperius Curse.
If not, putting together a squad of Blast-Ended Skrewts would be devastatingly effective.
Being ill-tempered, aggressive, and unable to distinguish friend from foe were all non-issues in the face of the Imperius Curse.
The days of study flew by, and soon enough, Friday came around...
It was time for Defence Against the Dark Arts.