Harry Potter is property of the Dread Pirate Rowling. Paraphrased and quoted text is from Harry Potter & the Order of the Phoenix.
The Entrance Hall was ablaze with torches and echoing with footsteps as the students crossed the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right; leading to the Great Hall and the start-of-term sheer number of people present made it even harder for Harry to not notice how many of them would press their heads together and whisper to each other as he passed. It took all he had to grit his teeth and act as if he either didn't notice or didn't care.
Luna Lovegood drifted aimlessly away in the rough direction of the Ravenclaw table. Ginny was shortly taken away by her fellow fourth-years and Harry was left to sit halfway down the table with Ron, Hermione and Neville. He ignored the over-friendly greetings those sitting around him gave him; the changes to the staff table were far more interesting.
Of most obvious notice was Hagrid's absence; the half-giant's size made it fairly obvious whenever he was, or wasn't, present. Then there was someone new sitting next to Dumbledore, beside an empty seat, and talking into the Headmaster's ear. She looked like the epitome of proverbial 'auntness', as Hermione might have said; a dumpy little individual with curly, plain brown hair and an excessive pinkness to her general attire. Usually he wasn't one to judge by appearance but, just as he'd been trying to assess her, she'd turned around. He gasped sharply.
"Do you know her, Harry?" Hermione seemed to have noticed his surprise and had leaned over to make a quiet inquiry. He elbowed Ron in the side, somewhat gently, to bring his other best friend into the conversation.
"See the woman beside Dumbledore? She was at my hearing, and she works for Fudge. Her name's Umbridge, I think." That brought a frown to Hermione's face and a bloody great scowl to Ron's; whatever someone like that was doing in Hogwarts couldn't be good for anyone.
"Could she... no, there's another space, isn't there?" Harry did a quick accounting of the teachers he knew of; McGonagall was leading the first years in just now, and there was Snape of course. Trelawney rarely came down for feasts but there was Flitwick chatting with Professor Grubbly-Plank... was she there because Hagrid wasn't back yet? Snape was impossible to forget... and he didn't know many of the others but Hermione obviously did because she'd finished counting far before he had. "Hagrid's seat is being left empty, but so is another one. I doubt Professor Dumbledore hired someone like that to be our new Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher..." Harry wasn't quite so sure. There had been Lupin, certainly, but also Quirrel and Lockhart; he'd certainly tried with Moody but... well, come to think of it, Crouch Junior had been a remarkably good teacher in spite of being a Death Eater.
"Dad was saying something about this," Ron muttered darkly, "That Fudge might try and interfere in Hogwarts given what Harry and Dumbledore have been saying about You-Know-Who." That was a sobering thought all round. It was chased away, at least temporarily, by the last of the first-years finally stopping their general milling about and the Sorting Hat coming forward for its traditional song.
"There was a time, in years long passed,
When wizards both far and near,
Could scarcely brew a potion,
Without feeling a great fear;
For fires raged 'cross Britain,
And muggles stayed not their hand;
For to burn any witch or wizard,
Was the custom of the land.
'twas a time when I was new,
And had barely been created,
By our grand and noble founders,
Whose goal was thusly stated;
'We'll build a place of magic',
Was their fine decree,
'Where all our kith and kin,
Can learn their trade safely'.
Said Gryffindor, "I will teach those,
That desire to be strong,
To protect those that they cherish,
And fight to right the wrong!"
Said Ravenclaw, "Then I will take,
Those with a need to know,
As yours shall protect then mine,
Will tell them friend from foe."
Said Hufflepuff, "Very well,
Mine shall be those who strive,
And help us find a way to live,
Whilst yours help us survive."
Last, Slytherin, "As for mine,
They shall be noble and true,
I shall safeguard our traditions,
And leave the rest to you."
Thus were their ideals wrought,
From times of war and strife,
Where any wizards might be forced,
One day, to take a life.
But times changed, as oft they do,
And no more were we at war.
But Slytherin's legacy,
Was sharper than before.
He left behind a memory,
Of a time dark and grim,
When those a wizard trusted,
Must needs be just like him.
Now all of you who listen,
There is a truth you must know,
No matter what is done,
What always was may not stay so.
A dark future looms before us,
Our enemy stands at the gate,
We must stand together,
If we are to face our fate.
For though I now divide you,
All of Hogwarts is as one.
The time for peace is over,
And dimmer, grows the sun.
Oh, know the perils, read the signs,
The warning history shows,
For our Hogwarts is in danger,
From external, deadly foes!
We must unite inside her,
Or we'll crumble from within,
I have told you, I have warned you...
Let the Sorting now begin!
The usually thunderous applause that followed the Hat's song, be it from custom or genuine delight, was quieter. Usually the musical number was confined to a brief outline of the various qualities prized by the four houses and the role played in the event by the Sorting Hat itself. Harry could hear the murmurs and whispers of a confused school passing down the tables.
"Never heard anything like that before, eh mate?" Ron turned to face him, one brow raised. Before Harry could answer him, however, the sorting itself was already underway. He didn't pay much attention beyond offhandedly applauding as everyone else did. As soon as it was done he turned to his friend again.
"Which do you reckon is weirder; the story, or the warning?" Hermione, who must have been dying to speak the entire way through the Sorting Ceremony, cut in to answer herself.
"Neither, or perhaps both; I've never heard of it giving a warning before but some parts of that song were definitely an embellishment. Witch-burning, or wizard-burning I suppose, wasn't even remotely common during the period the Founders lived in." In the background Dumbledore called the feast to order in his usual fashion and the tables creaked in unison under the weight of the food. "And that extra seat by that Umbridge woman is still empty." So it was. There weren't many older students around he could ask about the Sorting Hat, at least, and Nearly-Headless Nick was congenially introducing himself to the new students further down the table while showing off his usual trick.
"Well," Ron began to talk between mouthfuls of food. He would've continued but Hermione gave him a Look that reminded Harry quite suddenly of McGonagall. "Hat lives in Dumbledore's office all year round, right? Stands t'reason it might pick up a thing or two from his business. Isn't hard to guess something messed up is going on, and the students ain't being told about it." Hermione adopted a thoughtful expression as she seemed to digest Ron's surprisingly insightful statement. Harry did have to admit that it didn't quite gel with how vigorously he was attacking his food. The rumble of his own stomach reminded him how hungry he was and he forgot the issue for a moment in order to fill his plate and get something into his stomach. They'd gotten sidetracked over bickering about Ron trying to talk with his mouth full, in any case.
Eventually Dumbledore stood again and started the usual announcements. Forbidden Forest, Filch's demands and so on. He wasn't really focused on it due to the seductive image of his soft, warm bed calling to him. The mention of staff changes, though, made him snap back to attention.
"... pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank; who shall be taking Care of Magical Creatures until Professor Hagrid returns from his long overdue holiday in France." That was the first that Harry had heard of such a thing. It made sense, however, given how everyone with half a brain and one good eye had noticed his interest in the Headmistress of Beauxbatons during the Tri-Wizard Tournament last year. "And I am equally saddened to announce the long-delayed retirement of Professor Binns in favour of Professor Umbridge, our new History of Magic teacher." That confused Harry a great deal while also causing Hermione to start violently in her seat. The expression she wore was a surprisingly dark one for her. "And our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher has been delayed by poor weather over France but I am certain he will be here in time for lessons tomorrow. Finally, Quidditch tryouts will be-"
There was an uncomfortable pause, almost like a missed beat, as Dumbledore stopped mid-speech and turned to his left. For a moment nobody was sure why he'd ceased until Professor Umbridge took a step forward. Harry hadn't even noticed her stand up. The Headmaster bowed his head to her in his usually genial fashion and sat back down in order to give her what seemed to be his full attention. Other staff members were not quite so cordial. Harry didn't think he'd seen Professor McGonagall looking quite so affronted in... years, at least.
"Thank so very much, Headmaster, for such a warm welcome." Something about the woman just seemed to engender immediate dislike in pretty much everyone. Harry certainly felt on edge with every word that came out of her toadish face. "It is such a joy to finally return to Hogwarts after so many years!" He wondered briefly what house she'd been in. Part of him almost said Hufflepuff, but nobody that spectacularly unpleasant could have come from anywhere but Slytherin. Besides, he'd heard her speak before. Something was off about this. "As I look down upon all your joyful little faces I just know that we'll all be very good friends."
The student body had a fairly mixed reaction to her assertion. Some were confused. A great many, Hermione included, recoiled at being spoken to like they were toddlers. Fred and George were already sporting massive and sinister grins. But, as Umbridge cleared her throat with an aggravatingly little noise ('hem, hem'), he felt a faint dread washing over him. "The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them for ever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."
She continued in that vein for some time. Something about tradition and innovation was in there. Progress for progress' sake. A lot of words that Harry usually only heard when he was listening to some of the more conservative radio shows that Uncle Vernon put on from time to time. It was all going well over his head, mostly because it was so dull that he let it.
"This." Hermione began to whisper across to her two friends with a tone Harry wasn't used to hearing from her; outrage. "Is a Bad Thing." Those last two words were given particular emphasis to make sure that he and Ron got the point.
"Sounds like a load of waffle t'me, 'Mione. Kinda like Percy practicing for his job interviews at the Ministry." She shook her head and shot a dark look up at the head table where Umbridge continued to soldier on with her speech in clear defiance of the number of students ignoring her. Perhaps she hadn't even noticed; or didn't care.
Whatever either her, or Umbridge, was about to say was cut short when the doors to the great hall slid open. This was unlike when Crouch-Junior-as-Moody had arrived last year. That had been a spectacular spectacle. In this case, only those facing the doors had even noticed they were open because of how softly they had swung ajar. Barely wide enough to admit a single man through, and so they did.
This, Harry thought, was nobody to be trifled with. They were certainly interesting enough. Like their predecessor, or most of them actually, they shunned the usual wizardly garb in favour of a deep blue mantle over a thin white cotton robe. It split around the knees to allow for ease of movement and looked almost more like a long jacket than anything else. He carried all sorts of interesting gew-gaws and knick-knacks about his person; a knife in the belt beside a quiver of what looked like crossbow bolts, probably to go with the crossbow hanging from the other side. A trio of heavy scroll-cases slung over his shoulder and a curious black obelisk in miniature bouncing against his knee. A bandolier of pouches with surprisingly muggle-looking clasps and a heavy clay bottle hanging off the end just under his left arm. Heavy leather gloves with odd silvery bangles sewn over both the palm and the top of his hand. A long, hooked, black wood cane with a winding silver pattern down it clacked quietly on the stone with every step the man took.
That was just his attire; which was ringing alarm bells all on its own. There were... other things. Like the fact that his soft leather boots were squelching quietly, and the edges of his mantle dripping water on the floor, but his face and hair were pristine. Something about the long hair hanging down the man's back and sides put him in mind of Lockhart. Maybe it was the carefully manicured facial hair; with goatee and beard that melded into sideburns. No, that wasn't quite up there with Lockhart; he took pride in appearing... neat. That was the vibe he gave off. Move of a once-over in the mirror with a quick spell and then on with the day, as opposed to hours spent primping and curling. Then, just like that, Harry realized what it was.
Moody. He'd just met the old wizard for real this summer and that was who the man reminded of him. Not the eyes, although in terms of piercing, icy-blue gazes they were well-matched. The footing. How he moved. Mad-Eye was always alert, ever vigilant, light on his feet and prepared to strike at a moment's notice. This man, with hair as white as Dumbledore's and a face about as weathered, was even more than that. He practically glided across the stone, almost silently save for the subtle sound of his wet boots. Part of Harry was absolutely certain that he was allowing them to make that noise so as not to startle the students he was passing behind.
Harry had been wrong, earlier, because only Hermione had stopped; Umbridge had carried on with her speech without noticing the man's entry. He slid up the steps towards the staff table and, with a cordial nod at Dumbledore, took the empty seat beside the pink woman. She paid absolutely no notice by the newcomer and, likewise, he ignored her. Instead he went straight to surveying the house tables with an intensity that was almost paralyzing.
"Hermione." Harry was surprised to hear the sound of his own voice over the sudden silence that had overcome the Great Hall; apart from the continued droning of Professor Umbridge. At least it sounded like she was finally wrapping up. "D'you know who that is?" His friend just shook her head slowly. He certainly didn't look the professoring type, that much was certain. Hermione shrugged. Her focus hadn't shifted much from Umbridge; who, as it happened, was finally done with her speech. It can't have been all that long if one went by the state of the night sky but it felt like it had been longer.
"How much of that did you hear?" Harry shrugged. Bits and pieces. That brought a frown to his friend's face even as Ron looked over at her in confusion.
"You listened to that twaddle while we had the second coming of Mad-Eye to gawk at? Blimey, Hermione, but that was the dullest speech I've ever heard; Percy included." Apparently she didn't agree because she violently shook her head in response.
"No, Ron. It was very… illuminating. Though I do wonder if his arrival was a coincidence. It was awfully distracting." She cast a glance at Umbridge as she sat down again with a simpering little smile on her froggy little face. "For most of us, anyway."
"Well, sounded like a lot of waffling to me." Said Harry. That was another word he'd picked up from Uncle Vernon; admittedly usually used when he was talking about the politicians he didn't like rather than the ones he did; although Harry could never see much of a difference.
"It was. I suspect that was the point. All that light and fluffy candy to hide the razor blade in the floss. 'Progress for progress' sake must be discouraged'. 'Effectiveness and accountability', well of course. 'Pruning' indeed." At this point she was mostly talking to herself. Even over Dumbledore finally explaining the time and date of Quidditch tryouts. Rather more curious was that the Headmaster dismissed the feast without actually introducing the new Professor. Had he said the name at any point? Harry didn't think so.
"Yeah, but what's all that even mean?" Although Ron did have a point Harry just couldn't escape a sinking feeling that was growing in the pit of his stomach. Around them people began to rise and stretch as Prefects called out for first years to follow them. Hermione followed suit.
"It means, Ron, that the Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts. Gryffindor First Years, over here please!" She stepped to one side and held up a hand, shot Ron an exasperated look until he got the idea and joined her. Harry looked at the gaggle of terrified little faces and grinned at them. Had he looked like that in his first year? Surely not. A young blond boy elbowed one of the others, Harry thought his name might be Abercrombie, and they both shot him a horrified glance and then pushed back into the huddle of kids. All amusement faded quite suddenly from him as he stepped up smartly; pushing past Ron and Hermione as he went.
"Meet you there." Was all he got out before he was weaving through the crowd. A pair of shortcuts beyond the main marble staircase quickly saw him alone in the corridors as he made his way upstairs. Stupid. He'd been stupid to think they'd be anything other than afraid of him.
"Potter." An unfamiliar voice cut through the silence. The new Professor was standing in the hallway. Harry's mind raced as he tried to trace the path the man had to take to beat him here. He couldn't think of one off the top of his head. "Headmaster wishes to see us. Come along." There was a slight Germanic overtone to his speech; faint, but noticeable. He began to move along a different path without any heed if Harry was following him. After a moment, and with significant reluctance, Harry did so. For such an obviously old man he had a really quick stride. Half the time he had to jog the keep up. As a result they shortly arrived at the Gargoyle guarding the stairs to Dumbledore's tower. The Professor gave it a sharp look and then rolled his eyes. "Peppermint Pastie." The Gargoyle stepped aside to a heavy sigh in accompaniment. Harry was once more left behind for a moment as the older man took the steps in twos.
He wasn't really hurrying, as such. It seemed entirely natural; as if his normal rate of motion just happened to be twice that of everyone else. The height helped. Next to Hagrid, and Madame Maxime, this was easily the tallest person he'd ever met; albeit in a human sort of way and not a giant sort of way. Who climbed Dumbledore's staircase anyway? It rose for you.
The Headmaster was waiting for them. Fawkes probably helped with that; though he probably had access to staff passages and the like. Dumbledore smiled warmly at the both of them; causing the other person in the room to grumble quietly.
"Ah, Caiaphas, my old friend; why so dour? Surely you can allow the grumpy old man act to pass a little bit." Caiaphas, as that was apparently his name, glowered even harder at Dumbledore. Most people looked petulant when they did that; he looked like he was trying to set the Headmaster alight with his gaze alone.
"Next time you call in a favour from me at the last minute, Albus, you will either send your phoenix to collect me or you will give me a full month's warning! I was in Siberia when I got your message, and have not slept in two days for the flying." Harry couldn't help but gawp at that. Flying for two days straight? He'd fall off his broom. Not that the old man had one.
"I apologize, old friend; I had assumed you would be in residence in Germany. You know I would not have called upon you if my need wasn't great." Caiaphas grumbled under his breath a bit more but sat down; seemingly mollified. Dumbledore added to this by snapping his fingers and calling forth a House Elf that shortly returned itself with a pot of hot tea. "Harry, you needn't stay overlong; I just wished to inform you that Professor Dietrich will be taking your Occlumency lessons instead of Professor Snape. Your Godfather had a few words with me about it and I decided that it might be better if you had a… more neutral instructor."
Harry was simultaneously delighted and embarrassed by the concern that Sirius had shown. Part of him wished that he hadn't said anything. The rest of him was very glad that he had. Professor Dietrich, his name finally revealed, gave Harry a proper look-over. The apology and the tea seemed to have evened out his temper and the expression was much more like Dumbledore's. They shared a certain grandfatherly twinkle of the eye; at least when they were in a good mood. The Headmaster was never quite so fierce otherwise.
"He seems a solid lad. You will stop by my office of a Friday evening, boy, and we shall get to work. I will create a reason for you to do so during the week." Dumbledore nodded, looking pleased. When this strange German man wasn't grumpy about being forced to fly several thousand kilometres he actually seemed rather nice.
"Very good then, Harry." The Headmaster pulled up a piece of paper and scrawled something across it with a suddenly appearing and then just as quickly vanishing quill. "That will be for Filch, or anyone else who wonders why you're wandering back late. Oh; and the password for the Gryffindor dorm is 'Mimbulus mimbletonia'; an amusing coincidence, considering I believe I saw young Longbottom with that very plant earlier this evening!" Harry had to violently suppress the urge to groan at the thought. Instead he quietly thanked the Professor and the Headmaster then slipped out of the room. They didn't say anything else while he was there. At least he could tell Hermione that Professor Dietrich wasn't in league with Umbridge; if he'd flown all the way from Siberia to answer Dumbledore's call then he must be a good sort.