Bartemius Crouch Sr. approached the podium with the sort of rigid posture only lifelong Ministry officials seemed capable of maintaining.
Every movement precise.
Measured.
Controlled.
His perfectly pressed robes barely shifted as he stepped forward beneath the floating candlelight, thin fingers clasped neatly behind his back.
Even as a formerly disgraced ministry worker who once had potential enough to become the minister for magic, living with the grief and guilt for over a decade had not eroded the man's spirit.
The hall gradually settled.
Though not entirely.
Students still whispered excitedly amongst themselves, eyes darting repeatedly toward the ancient Goblet resting upon its pedestal.
Blue-white flames crackled softly upward.
Hungry.
Waiting.
And meanwhile—
Mad-Eye Moody limped slowly along the edge of the Great Hall wall toward the staff table.
CLUNK.
THUD.
CLUNK.
His wooden leg echoed harshly against the stone floor while his magical eye spun violently within its socket, independently surveying every inch of the room.
Several students shrank instinctively when it passed over them.
Understandable.
The man looked less like a professor and more like a retired executioner dragged unwillingly back into service.
Moody entered the hall just enough as Crouch opened his mouth to begin speaking.
Then—
The great hall screamed.
Not literally.
But close enough.
CRACK.
The enchanted ceiling exploded into motion above them.
The illusion of calm storm clouds vanished instantly.
In its place—
Chaos.
A monstrous thunderstorm erupted overhead with terrifying suddenness.
Black clouds churned violently across the enchanted sky while streaks of silver lightning split the darkness overhead like fractures through glass.
THOOOM.
Thunder detonated across the Great Hall hard enough to shake silverware off tables.
Students yelped.
Several first years outright screamed.
Rain hammered against the illusionary ceiling in deafening waves while hurricane-force winds seemed to swirl above the candles.
The floating flames flickered wildly.
The Goblet's blue fire surged upward violently.
And beneath it all—
A feeling of warning, a warning of danger.
Cassius's eyes sharpened immediately.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
He had of course seen this scene within the movie but seeing it, and feeling the experience in person were two different things.
What he could surmise from this moment was that upon Moody's entrace into the castle, that very same castle seemed to be warning those present that evil had entered their midsts.
Not reacting to Karkaroff, or Snape who are former death eaters.
But rather to Moody.
Or rather—
To the person who hid beneath his face.
The ancient magic of Hogwarts itself recognized a true Death Eater standing within its sacred halls.
Several professors were already on their feet.
Even Dumbledore's expression hardened slightly.
Students throughout the hall panicked as thunder continued roaring violently overhead.
A Hufflepuff third year physically crawled beneath the table.
Then—
CLUNK.
Moody slammed his staff-like walking stick hard against the stone floor.
And with a flick of his wrist his wand shot out from within his overcoat into his hand and a spiraling spell cast into the ceiling quickly calming the raging storm above back into the gentle night sky that it had been just moments before.
Silence crashed down across the Great Hall.
Complete.
Utter.
Even the ghosts looked unsettled.
Moody lowered his wand slowly.
His magical eye spun once around the chamber before locking upward suspiciously.
Only a few had noticed his entrance before and yet now the whole hall was staring at him.
But he didnt seem to mind, instead being impolite he ignored everything and went straight to dumbledore, casually dropping a 'stupid ceiling' as an excuse.
Students stared at him with varying combinations of awe and terror.
Mad-eye Moody was like a legendary figure to wizarding families, former top Elite Auror for the ministry, a man who had fought on the frontlines of Voldemorts uprising from the very beginning and even after losing more than a few of his parts just kept on fighting back.
Some even whispered that he was probably the second strongest in the british isles just behind Dumbledore himself, assuming one believe good ole Tom was good and gone.
After the greeting ended with Dumbledore speaking out Alastor's name and giving a hearty handshake, they faded to the background returning command of the moment to the ministry official.
Barty Crouch Sr. adjusted his sleeves stiffly before continuing as though magical atmospheric rebellion happened regularly at formal school functions.
"As Headmaster Dumbledore was saying…"
his voice cut crisply through the lingering silence.
"The Triwizard Tournament is a binding magical contract between three chosen champions."
Students leaned forward immediately again.
Excitement rapidly replacing fear.
"However," Crouch continued sharply, "due to the considerable dangers posed by the tournament tasks, the Ministry of Magic has elected to enact stricter protective measures this year."
A pause.
Then—
"No student under the age of seventeen will be permitted to submit their name for consideration."
The Great Hall exploded.
Outrage thundered through the students instantly.
"What?"
"That's rubbish!"
"You can't do that!"
"You don't know what you're doing!"
Fred and George Weasley looked personally betrayed by reality itself.
"SILENCE"
A thunderous voice resounded throughout the hall quickly dispelling all the voices in opposition to the latest announcement.
Dumbledore stepped forward and quickly retook control of the situation.
Without even using his wand, he caused the Goblet of Fire before them all to levitate, replacing the podium at the head of the raised stage.
Before it then enlarged and became like a static totem, the blue flame dancing excitedly, as if challenging the students witnessing it to approach if they dare.
"Anyone wishing to submit themselves to the tournament need only write their name on a bit of parchment and cast it into the flame before this hour on Halloween night, do not do so lightly, if chosen theirs no turning back, as of this moment the Triwizard Tournament has begun."
This was the final statement and as soon as he said it, Professor McGonnagal rose to announce the end of the proceedings and for Prefects to escort their houses to their dormitories.
Madame Maxine, and Karkaroff on the otherhand collected their students together before getting into a serious discussion with the Deputy Headmistress.