"Now, everyone…" Albus Dumbledore's voice rang across the Grand Hall, "… you will be glad to know that, finally, I have found you all your new Dark Arts teacher. Please welcome… an old friend of mine… Professor Horace Slughorn."
Slughorn stood up on the table, smiling slightly.
Despite being on an empty stomach, the students filled the hall with applause.
Their thundering claps slithered out of the castle and scattered across the grounds, now occupied by thousands of wizards and witches.
Seated at the Gryffindor table, Harry, Black, Draco, and Ron didn't join in, though.
At least, not with the same intensity as the others.
Something was wrong with Dumbledore.
Terribly wrong.
A week ago, Dumbledore had called upon Harry sporadically, taking him to visit his old friend—Horace Slughorn.
After coming back, Harry had told the boys about this strange, awkward meeting.
He had also told them how Dumbledore wanted him to find some crucial info regarding Voldemort from Slughorn.
Then there was the fact that the Headmaster had also asked Harry to join Black during Black's weekly visits to his office, as there was something the Headmaster wanted to show him.
What?
Harry couldn't get the answer out of Dumbledore, though.
From Slughorn's appearance at Hogwarts, Harry could guess that it was somehow related to Voldemort, too.
But these weren't the matters that hinted at the wrongness surrounding Dumbledore.
It was Lord Black Phoenix's black-gloved hands.
Dumbledore had already lost his left hand and leg during the Battle of Legends. He had stopped limping a long time ago, but he hadn't bothered to hide that he hadn't regenerated his limbs, choosing to keep a black glove on his left hand instead.
Now, Dumbledore was wearing the same glove on his right hand, too.
What kind of injury was he hiding under that glove?
The question was giving nightmares to all those who had linked the appearance of this glove to another injury.
First, the Headmaster hadn't shown himself for an entire month.
Second, when he did show himself, he had appeared with gloved hands.
In desperation, the boys had even succumbed to asking Darcie, but she had outright ignored them, refusing to speak on the matter.
It was clear to the boys that she had been with Dumbledore.
For her not to even speak of it was nothing short of the darkest omen.
Yet, despite the trepidation that was bubbling in their hearts, Harry and the others had no choice but to let the thing play out gradually.
"The post is temporary, of course…" Dumbledore continued as the applause died. "Professor Slughorn is a Potioneer above anything. So, from the next semester, he will resume his old profession. And…"
Silence.
Whispers.
Gasps. Grunts.
The smallest smirk on Snape's mouth.
"… Professor Snape will assume the office of Defense Against the Dark Arts," Dumbledore finished, looking over his shoulder.
"Christ almighty…" Black hissed. "He's done it…"
Harry, Draco, and Ron nodded as well, the entire Gryffindor table going as quiet as possible.
On the other side, the Slytherin table erupted with cheers, giving a standing ovation.
Horace Slughorn, assuming it was for him, chuckled, raising his wine glass towards the students with a touch of pride.
Snape remained on his chair, lifting his cup and downing the wine in one gulp.
"Now, one more piece of news before we let the delicious breakfast occupy our thoughts," Dumbledore said, smiling. "The Intercontinental Tournament of Magic will begin next week…"
From Gryffindor to Slytherin, from Ravenclaw to Hufflepuff, everyone had gone absolutely quiet.
The Tournament had been scheduled to begin at the start of February.
Dumbledore's unannounced absence had already delayed it by a week, making all the Schools and Communities gathered outside nervous.
He had conducted a meeting with them right after his arrival, they had heard.
Not much was known about the meeting's content itself, but they had learned that everyone had left the Castle… in utter silence and with terror on their faces.
"The list of Hogwarts students chosen to participate in the Tournament will be shared with you today by the Heads of the Houses," Dumbledore said. "Those who are not among these participants… Don't worry. We have arranged something for you as well."
That sent a wave of excited whispers crashing across the students.
"In the end," Dumbledore said, the smile on his face broadening, "I will say, do not take this Tournament as a mere Tournament. It will be nothing like the Triwizard Tournament, either. In fact, I would request of each of you, whether you are a participant or not, to… take it personally."
Silence.
Take the Tournament personally?
That wasn't something they'd ever expected Dumbledore to say. Not with that big smile on his face. Not with such enthusiasm. Not while the memories of the dark New Year's Day still lingered in many minds.
"Use it," Dumbledore continued. "Use it to grow. Use it to test out how far you have come since last year. Use it to prove, not to others, but to yourself, that all that hard work you have poured into the Battle Workshops hasn't gone to waste. Use it to stand a cut above the rest. It might sound selfish — well, because it is — but I want you to show everyone, all those who will be watching you — either out in the open or from the shadows — that we… WE are not the same Hogwarts anymore. WE are the Hogwarts… ready to face all and everything…"
The knuckles of Hogwarts students turned white as they clenched their fingers into fists.
Then, together, no matter to which House they belonged, they stood up and threw their fists high, shouting out in serious, but cheerful readiness.
And this time, when the noise went out of the Castle, it reached the furthest tents.
To them, it didn't sound like the noise made by a lively bunch of students, who were excited for an upcoming tournament.
No.
It sounded similar to cries of a full regiment of soldiers — about to go to War!