3rd person POV-

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville found seats together about halfway down the table between Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor House ghost, and Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown. He was looking over the students' heads to the staff table that ran along the top wall of the Hall. "He's not there." Ron and Hermione scanned the staff table too. "He can't have left," said Ron, sounding slightly anxious. "Of course he hasn't," said Harry firmly. "You don't think he's . . . hurt, or anything, do you?" said Hermione uneasily. "No," said Harry at once. "But where is he, then?" There was a pause, then Harry said very quietly, so that Neville, Parvati, and Lavender could not hear, "Maybe he's not back yet. You know — from his mission — the thing he was doing over the summer for Dumbledore." "Yeah . . . yeah, that'll be it," said Ron, sounding reassured, but Hermione bit her lip, looking up and down the staff table as though hoping for some conclusive explanation of Hagrid's absence. "Who's that?" she said sharply, pointing toward the middle of the staff table. "It's that Umbridge woman!" "Who?" said Hermione. "She was at my hearing, she works for Fudge!" "Nice cardigan," said Ron, smirking. "She works for Fudge?" Hermione repeated, frowning. "What on earth's she doing here, then?" "Dunno . . ." Hermione scanned the staff table, her eyes narrowed. "No," she muttered, "no, surely not . . ." Harry looked up to see Professor Grubbly-Plank had taken the seat that ought to have been Hagrid's. Then the doors from the entrance hall opened.

Harry's POV-

I watched as a long line of scared-looking first years entered, led by Professor McGonagall, who was carrying a stool on which sat an ancient wizard's hat, heavily patched and darned with a wide rip near the frayed brim.

"Isn't he a little old to be a first year?" At the end of the line, stood a boy my age. He had messy raven-black hair with white tips. His ice blue eyes seemed to glow with confidence and power. The boy seemed completely at ease, watching the bewitched starry ceiling. Nearly Headless Nick noticed the boy and blinked in surprise, "Could it be?"

Professor McGonagall placed the stool carefully in front of them, then stood back. The whole school waited with bated breath. Then the rip near the hat's brim opened wide like a mouth and the Sorting Hat burst into song:

In times of old when I was new

And Hogwarts barely started

The founders of our noble school

Thought never to be parted: United by a common goal,

They had the selfsame yearning,

To make the world's best magic school

And pass along their learning.

"Together we will build and teach!"

The four good friends decided

And never did they dream that they

Might someday be divided,

For were there such friends anywhere

As Slytherin and Gryffindor?

Unless it was the second pair

Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw? S

O how could it have gone so wrong?

How could such friendships fail?

Why, I was there and so can tell

The whole sad, sorry tale.

Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those

Whose ancestry is purest."

Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose

Intelligence is surest."

Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those

With brave deeds to their name,"

Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot,

And treat them just the same."

These differences caused little strife

When first they came to light,

For each of the four founders had

A House in which they might

Take only those they wanted, so,

For instance, Slytherin

Took only pure-blood wizards

Of great cunning, just like him,

And only those of sharpest mind

Were taught by Ravenclaw

While the bravest and the boldest

Went to daring Gryffindor.

Good Hufflepuff she took the rest,

And taught them all she knew,

Thus the Houses and their founders

Retained friendships firm and true.

So Hogwarts worked in harmony

For several happy years,

But then discord crept among us

Feeding on our faults and fears.

The Houses that, like pillars four,

Had once held up our school,

Now turned upon each other and,

Divided, sought to rule.

And for a while it seemed the school

Must meet an early end,

What with dueling and with fighting

And the clash of friend on friend

And at last there came a morning

When old Slytherin departed

And though the fighting then died out

He left us quite downhearted.

And never since the founders four

Were whittled down to three

Have the Houses been united

As they once were meant to be.

And now the Sorting Hat is here

And you all know the score:

I sort you into Houses

Because that is what I'm for,

But this year I'll go further,

Listen closely to my song:

Though condemned I am to split you

Still I worry that it's wrong,

Though I must fulfill my duty

And must quarter every year

Still I wonder whether sorting

May not bring the end I fear.

Oh, know the perils, read the signs,

The warning history shows,

For our Hogwarts is in danger

From external, deadly foes

And 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 hat became motionless once more; applause broke out, though it was punctured. All across the Great Hall students were exchanging remarks with their neighbors. Professor McGonagall, who was waiting to read out the list of first years' names, was giving the whispering students the sort of look that scorches. With a last frowning look that swept the four House tables, Professor McGonagall lowered her eyes to her long piece of parchment and the sorting began. Slowly the line of first years thinned. "Zeller, Rose" was sorted into Hufflepuff, and the only one left standing was the older boy. Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet. "To our newcomers," said Dumbledore in a ringing voice, his arms stretched wide, a beaming smile on his lips, "welcome! To our old hands — welcome back! Due to undetected magic, Daniel will be joining as a 5th year. Now Mr. Fenton—"at the mention of the boy's name, Peeves flew out of the Great Hall, squealing in terror. "As I was saying, Mr. Fenton, we will sort you now." Daniel sat on the stool and the hat was placed on his head. Nearly Headless Nick had a large, hopeful grin on his face. Quiet muttering broke out among the student as we waited. "Bloody hell. He's taking longer than you, Harry."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

3rd person POV-

Daniel took the seat directly across from Nick, who was grinning so wide the students around him were surprised his face hadn't split. Professor Dumbledore stood up once more, "There is a time for speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"

There was an appreciative laugh and an outbreak of applause as Dumbledore sat down neatly and threw his long beard over his shoulder so as to keep it out of the way of his plate — for food had appeared out of nowhere, so that the five long tables were groaning under joints and pies and dishes of vegetables, bread, sauces, and flagons of pumpkin juice.

"It is an honor to meet you, Sir Phantom. Truly an honor. I never dreamt I would meet Pariah's Bane. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service," Nick stated, holding out his hand. " 'Tis an honor to meet you as well Sir Nicholas, but please call me Danny," 'Danny' replied with an odd accent. The whole table fell into a stunned silence as he shook said ghost's outstretched hand. "Who's Pariah," Hermione asked as everyone started to whisper about the strange new student, who could touch ghosts. "Pariah Dark was the Ghost King and is considered a Dark God in many cultures." For once She was speechless.

"What happened to your hair?" "Ron!" Hermione scolded swatting his head, as Danny and Harry burst out laughing. "Believe it or not, this happened naturally." " I'm Harry." "Nice to meet you, Harry."