Everyone in the Great Hall was struck with curiosity. At this hour, who would dare interrupt Dumbledore's speech—and in such a rude manner?
They turned toward the doors just as—
BOOM!
The doors slammed open, perfectly timed with a deafening clap of thunder.
A jagged flash of lightning illuminated the intruder.
It was a wizard, leaning on a cane, wrapped in a pitch-black traveling cloak. Had it not been for the thunder and the forceful entrance, one might never have noticed his presence at all.
Under the weight of so many curious gazes, the man said nothing. He simply reached up, pulled back his hood, and started walking toward Dumbledore.
As he moved, Draco caught sight of the hair beneath the hood—long, gray-white, dull with age. This was no young wizard. More than that, Draco felt something familiar in the man's presence...
"An Auror…"
"Draco?"
"Looks like trouble's arrived," he murmured.
"Huh?" Pansy tilted her head, puzzled. She had no idea what kind of "trouble" he meant.
Draco didn't answer. His eyes shifted silently between Dumbledore, whose expression carried the faintest smile, and the gray-haired wizard approaching the staff table.
No, this wasn't an accident. It felt... planned.
...
Tap. Tap. Tap.
With every step the stranger took, a hollow sound echoed across the Great Hall. Maybe it was imagination—but the once lively room seemed to fall silent, the air thickening with unease.
The way the wizard's long hair deliberately obscured his face only made things worse; several of the younger students shrank back in their seats.
When the stranger finally reached the staff table and sat in the chair reserved for the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, every student in the hall sucked in a sharp breath.
Not because he had taken that post—but because of the face that was now visible beneath the tangled hair.
Hermione had never seen anything like it.
His face looked like it had been carved from rotting wood—by someone who had only a vague idea of what a human face should look like, and none of the skill to shape it properly.
Every patch of exposed skin was marked with magical scars. His mouth was a crooked slash, and where his nose should have been, there was only flat, damaged flesh.
But what was most horrifying—were his eyes.
His right eye gleamed with a sharp, piercing light. His left, however, was something else entirely.
It wasn't human.
A large, coin-sized blue eyeball twitched and spun restlessly, darting up, down, left, and right. Then, without warning, it rolled completely back into his skull—leaving only a gleaming white orb staring blankly into nothing...
"What is that?"
"Hmm... unless I'm mistaken, it's a magical device—and there's a good chance it involves some dark magic as well."
Draco's calm explanation made Pansy instinctively inch closer to him, as if afraid that eerie blue eye at the teachers' table might suddenly turn on her.
In truth, Draco had already noticed it. That blue eye had glanced his way several times since the man's arrival.
That feeling...
It wasn't just discomfort. He could clearly sense the man's undisguised hostility—like being caught in the stare of a venomous snake.
...
As the students sat frozen in shock and confusion, Dumbledore finally spoke, unhurriedly revealing the man's identity.
In truth, once the wizard had taken the Defence Against the Dark Arts seat, the answer had already become obvious.
"Allow me to introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor... Professor Alastor Moody!"
Dumbledore's tone was light, almost cheerful, seemingly oblivious to the unease spreading among the students.
But down below, that constantly swiveling blue eye had already unnerved most of them. Nobody felt much like cheering for a new professor who looked more like a dark wizard than a teacher.
The half-hearted applause didn't seem to bother Moody in the slightest. He simply pulled out a small knife and began to eat from the feast in front of him.
Only... each time he brought food to his mouth, he first sniffed it suspiciously, then held it up to his blue eye for inspection—a habit so strange it made everyone's skin crawl.
"Draco, what on earth is he doing?"
"Being cautious. Staying alert. Never dropping his guard, no matter the situation. Only an Auror behaves like that. In short, this year's Defence Against the Dark Arts professor is a battle-hardened veteran Auror."
Knowing one's enemy was essential—and after spending plenty of time dealing with Aurors recently, Draco had taken it upon himself to study their training and habits.
And the man before them—Professor Moody—fit the description perfectly.
...
While Draco whispered quietly with Pansy, Harry Potter, sitting at the Gryffindor table not far away, seemed to know a lot more about the new professor than Draco did.
"Alastor... Moody?" Harry glanced at Hermione across the table before leaning toward Ron. "Mad-Eye? Isn't that the wizard your dad went to meet this morning?"
"Yeah, that's him. Probably to talk about this teaching job."
"I didn't think Dumbledore could actually convince him. My godfather's told me loads about Mad-Eye—he's legendary."
"That's great, isn't it? Even if he's retired, he's no ordinary Auror. With him here, I'd like to see how that Malfoy manages any of his tricks this year."
"Exactly. My godfather said—"
Harry stopped mid-sentence when he noticed Hermione's eyes on them.
The way he immediately clammed up stung her a little. She hadn't been trying to listen in—but her pride flared, and she quickly turned away with a huff.
Unfortunately, that very reaction only made Harry and Ron more convinced she had been eavesdropping—on behalf of Draco, no less.
From that moment on, the rift between the three of them quietly began to widen...
...
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