"Moody" pulled out his flask and took a long swig of Polyjuice Potion, barely steadying the fear still lingering in his heart.
He truly couldn't understand it.
With Ranni's level of strength, why was she still attending Hogwarts at all?
If it were him, he would've graduated early and gone out into the world long ago. Or at the very least, like his master, he would've gathered followers while still in school and fought for his ideals.
Yet during his investigations, he hadn't heard even a whisper of anything like that. Student organizations were rare to begin with, let alone factions built around power.
That made him uneasy.
Would Ranni's existence interfere with his master's plans?
But no matter how worried he was, there was nothing he could do. The plan had already progressed this far—he could only grit his teeth and keep moving forward.
What "Moody" didn't know was that his habit of drinking from that flask had already caught Hermione's attention.
At first, she'd assumed it was alcohol.
After all, people who carried liquor in hip flasks and took the occasional swig weren't exactly uncommon.
But now she was certain.
There was no way that flask contained alcohol.
Hogwarts would never allow a professor to drink openly during class.
Hermione's Animagus form was a cat—and everyone knew how cats were.
Once their curiosity was piqued, they wouldn't let go until they uncovered the truth.
Hermione had clearly developed an interest in whatever "Moody" was drinking.
Poor "Moody."
He'd only just been scared half to death by Ranni, and now Hermione had locked onto him as well.
All he could do was pray that his disguise would last long enough for him to complete Voldemort's assignment.
...…
No matter when his identity was exposed, classes still had to go on.
Imitating the real Mad-Eye Moody's eccentric personality, "Moody" delivered an unforgettable first lesson to the Hogwarts students.
Because his topic was the three Unforgivable Curses.
And he didn't just talk about them—he demonstrated them in class.
Worse still, when he demonstrated the Cruciatus Curse, he happened to be standing right next to Neville.
Whether it was intentional or not… no one could say.
But considering that "Moody" was actually Barty Crouch Jr., the answer felt obvious.
Years ago, Barty Crouch Jr. and several of Voldemort's most fanatical followers had used the Cruciatus Curse to torture the Longbottoms—Neville's parents—seeking information.
The result was permanent insanity.
Now, standing in front of their son, casting that very same curse…
It was hard to believe this was an accident.
After all, most Death Eaters had indulged in torturing others for their own twisted pleasure.
By the end of the Defence Against Dark Arts class, opinions about "Moody" were sharply divided.
Some students believed that despite his madness, he was a professor with real combat experience—someone who truly understood dark wizards.
Ron was firmly in that camp.
Others, however, felt that "Moody" was mentally unstable, that his teaching methods were extreme to the point of being dangerous.
They genuinely feared that if they ever zoned out in class, he might turn an Unforgivable Curse on them.
Hermione belonged to this second group.
Not because she feared being cursed—but because she suspected there was something deeply wrong with "Moody's" mental state.
Which only made her more curious about him.
...…
Time flew by, and soon it was Thursday night.
As if by unspoken agreement, students from all three schools chose the very last moment to sign up for the Triwizard Tournament.
The first to step forward was Cedric Diggory.
Hufflepuff had outdoor classes that day, and halfway through, rain had started pouring down. Cedric hadn't even had time to change clothes before his dormmates dragged him straight to the Goblet of Fire.
The Goblet had been raised to about two meters in height, surrounded by a glowing white ring.
This was Dumbledore's Age Line—students under seventeen couldn't cross it.
Cedric, already seventeen, walked straight through without resistance and tossed his parchment into the blue flames.
Cheers erupted around him.
"Eternal glory… pity it has nothing to do with us," Harry said wistfully.
From Arthur, he already knew the Triwizard Tournament was held once every five years.
In five years, Harry would be nineteen—already graduated for a year.
This tournament was never meant for him.
What Harry didn't realize was that he'd just raised a rather dangerous flag.
Just then, the Weasley twins entered the hall.
They already had talent in alchemy, and with Arthur's financial backing, their progress had skyrocketed.
Their inventions were wildly popular at Hogwarts, and combined with their naturally outgoing personalities, they were greeted wherever they went.
After exchanging greetings, they headed straight for Arthur.
"Boss! Look—fresh off the line this morning!"
George and Fred raised identical test tubes filled with a creamy liquid.
Arthur and Hermione both recognized it immediately.
An Ageing Potion—temporarily increases the drinker's age.
"Good idea," Arthur said bluntly. "You might get past the Age Line, but actually being selected? Don't get your hopes up."
"Oi! Boss! Don't crush employee morale like that!" the twins protested in perfect unison.
"Fine, fine. Then I'll wish you good luck," Arthur said with a shrug.
With Arthur's "blessing," the twins drank the potion—using the posture of a wedding toast, for reasons unknown.
They crossed the Age Line and successfully tossed their parchments into the Goblet.
They barely had time to celebrate.
The blue flames surged violently, split into two streaks, and slammed into them.
The twins were blasted several meters back. They weren't injured—but Dumbledore's magic forcibly accelerated the potion's effect.
Their hair rapidly grew long and turned stark white.
Climbing to their feet, they stared at each other's aged faces.
"Your fault!" ×2
"Wanna fight?!" ×2
Even when arguing, their synchronization was terrifying.
When neither could win the argument, they started wrestling instead.
"That's enough."
Arthur stepped in, lightly tapping each of them.
They were separated—and instantly restored to normal.
"Thanks, Boss!" ×2
Arthur waved it off. "Honestly, you'd be better off standing outside the Age Line and throwing the parchment in from there. At least you wouldn't get blasted."
"Brilliant idea!" ×2
Their eyes lit up, and they rushed back into the crowd, likely to borrow parchment and quills.
But no one was paying attention to them anymore.
Because Viktor Krum had entered the hall, with Headmaster Karkaroff behind him.
Krum walked up, dropped his parchment into the Goblet, and stepped aside.
He was the only Durmstrang student to sign up—clearly their preselected champion.
Next came Fleur Delacour, accompanied by her younger sister Gabrielle.
Their headmistress was nowhere to be seen—Arthur suspected she was on a date with Hagrid.
Hagrid, decisive as ever, had launched his pursuit the moment he met Madame Maxime.
Arthur's "big brother-in-law" even offered advice, despite being single himself.
Where that confidence came from… no one knew.
After Fleur submitted her parchment, she didn't leave.
Instead, she brought her sister over to Arthur.
"Why don't you try?" she asked. "I think you'd be chosen."
Arthur smiled and shook his head.
"You've been asking around about me these past few days, haven't you? Didn't you hear that I'm only in fourth year?"
Fleur flushed slightly—she hadn't expected word to reach him.
"I just… feel like you would be chosen," she said softly. "It's my intuition."
Part of it was what she'd heard—Arthur driving off Dementors at the Quidditch pitch last year.
But more than anything, it was instinct.
A woman's intuition, sharpened by Veela blood—so keen that perhaps only Luna Lovegood could rival it.
Arthur shook his head again.
"I could be chosen," he admitted. "But with my strength, the tournament would be boring. I'm not interested."
And with that, he closed the topic.
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