"First years, follow me! First years, follow me!" Hagrid's booming voice carried over the deafening hum of hundreds of voices of students exiting the Hogwarts' Express. "First years, follow me!" The youngsters quickly scrambled in the wake of the half-giant, not wishing to be left behind in the growing crowd. With the new students safely in the care of the grounds keeper, the older students fled the train's compartments quickly. Friends quickly crushed into the waiting thestrals pulled carriages, eager to spend more time together before being in the presence of the school's staff. One by one the school's carriages filled and began the trip up to the castle, bearing students towards the dawn of new academic year.
The carriages wound their way from the platform and through the main street of the bustling small village of Hogsmeade. Wizards and witches passing through happily returned the various greetings emanating from the school's carriages as the boisterous students savored their last precious minutes of un-supervised freedom until the end of their academic year. The sun slipped past the tree line as the carriages rounded the final bend in long trip leading to the ancient castle gates.
The Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry watched the last of the carriages depart and disappear into the growing darkness. Knowing that the Welcome Feast could not begin without her there, she sighed heavily feeling the years of her age upon her. She glanced around the office and leaned against the wall. The reality of five years of relative peace and stability crashed around her in waves as exhaustion crept on her.
After Dumbledore's retirement, she had taken his place as the school's head. Not until she was well immersed in the heart and soul functioning of the old school did she realize how taxing her new position was. She was only grateful that unlike most of her predecessors, she had a living and breathing advisor to help her as she had struggled to adjust. Together, they had worked with both the Ministry of Magic and the Order of the Phoenix to rebuild their shattered world. The last of Voldemort's supporters had been rounded up and imprisoned in a place far worse than Azkaban Prison was.
Three years after Harry Potter had narrowly defeated the Dark Lord, she had stood as witness to the formal binding between Professors Vector and Sinistra. A year following, the staff as a whole had stood as witness to the binding of their Muggle Studies professor and a muggle. Since Chaste Hardwhick was a Muggleborn Hogwarts Alumni, it didn't surprise anyone that the quite Hufflepuff would have fallen in love with a young Muggle and had simply waited until the 1979 prophecy concerning one of Gryffindor's most famous students had reached a positive outcome. The Headmistress had watched as one by one, her surviving colleagues had all bonded or departed their old posts for other pastures - all but herself and one other.
The wizarding world of Great Britain was experiencing a rare baby boom now that the threats to potential offspring was eliminated, in addition to some shadow workings of the Ministry. Muggleborn enrollment was on the rise, their numbers still surpassed Pureblood students, but St, Mungos was projecting it was only a generation or two away from closing most of the gap between the two pedigrees. As time went by, the Headmistress bore witness to more and more positive changes in her world around her. But just as progress was made, there was some things in wizarding world that stubbornly stayed the same. The Ministry had tightened their fist, governing more than just magic usage as time progressed. With every new positive change, very few saw the future shaping into something that conjured fear and apprehension.
Minerva McGonagall stood before the assembled student body of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy. The night's recent first-year sorting had been sentimentally overwhelming for the Gryffindor matron. As she had observed the nervous new students being divided amongst the four houses of the school, she had recalled previous sortings where she had supervised.
A red haired girl with emerald eyes that stared up at the enchanted ceiling as she clutched the arm of a pale boy with onyx eyes and sallow skin. She remembered watching the pair as she read the names. Amongst their year, they had stood out in her mind as the most unlikely of duo. From the snatches of conversation, she was convinced that they were both of muggle decent and felt a flash of pity towards the pair. It had been obvious they had known each other prior to the train ride - how much, she didn't know yet. But where the girl was nervous, evidence by the non-stop questioning of her dark haired companion, the boy was quite and sullen.
She had placed the Hat onto the boy's midnight hair and waited posed to retrieve it. When the Hat had taken several minutes to decide the boy's fate, she had found herself holding her breath in anticipation with a prayer to whatever deities where listening. After five minutes had passed, McGonagall had glanced nervously at the Headmaster and found the twin to her question mirrored in his blue eyes. The witch had jumped as the Sorting Hat suddenly shouted, ""Gryffindor!"
The staff members at the time had just stared in stunned silence as the boy leapt from the stool and raced happily to the house table, his tie a mix of gold and red stripes as he joined his new housemates. Slytherin house quickly stopped clapping and erupted into a roar of disbelief. Black looks flew across the room at the Lion's Den as they in turn watched curiously as the son of a dark house joined their numbers. For her part, the than Transfigurations Mistress had stood in shock as she watched her newest cub take his place at her house's table. A quick glance at Dumbledore seated at the High Table had her groaning at the sight of his maddening twinkling eyes.
Returning her attention to the parchment in her hands, she had called out the next name. A petite girl, small for her age, with blonde ringlets pouring endlessly down her back, confidentially walked up and sat on the stool. She had smiled at the girl as she was quickly sorted into Hufflepuff. "Potter, James." The witch smiled, knowing that this young lad would be placed in Gryffindor. McGonagall nodded her head approvingly as the Hat had barely touched the top of his head before the young Potter was swaggering over to the Lion's House. A mousy boy with indistinguishable brown hair quickly followed on Potter's heels.
"Lupin, Remus." She smiled with encouragement as the small, pale first year slowly made his way towards the stool. Her heart broke as the shy boy, Dumbledore's personal intreast case, climbed onto the stool and watched apprehensively as the Sorting Hat was lowered onto his head. McGonagall groaned as the Headmaster had leaned forward, obviously holding his breath as he waited along with the rest of the people in the Great Hall for the verdict. It had felt like an eternity had passed by before the Sorting Hat had revealed it's sentencing, "Gryffindor!" She was proven wrong in her guess a second time that night as the green eyed lass, that responded to "Evans, Lily" shyly approached the Lion's Den.
McGonagall watched as the sallow skinned boy perched on the stool. To anyone who knew the signs, it was obvious that he was arguing with the Sorting Hat. She had wondered if the boy was arguing to be placed in Gryffindor as his Muggleborn friend just been. From the scant few observations that she had made of the boy in the hour of the Sorting Ceremony, the Head of Gryffindor felt that the boy would do well placed either in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw House. She was shocked and disappointed when the beaten up old hat growled,""Slytherin is where you will dwell then!"" A deathly silence had blanketed the Great Hall as the boy had shrugged the Sorting Hat off his head and allowed it to roll off his back before hitting the floor at his feet.
Hogwarts' resident ghosts had hovered in silence as the boy had straightened to his full height, squared his shoulders and turned to stare at the staff seated behind him. He had the tenacity to start at the closest professor, Serendipity Lemongrass, and sneered down the length of wizards and witches from one end to the other. It might have been the Gryffindor witch's shocked imagination, but it had seemed to her as though he had actually snarled at the Headmaster when his cold eyes landed on him in turn before continuing down the line of stunned wizards and witches.
The Headmistress clapped absent-mindedly as the new students were sorted into their houses, forever segregated from the occupants of the others. While Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Houses were more willing and able to set aside house loyalties for the greater good, Gryffindor House had a harder time cooperating with the others. Slytherin House, despite bearing the dark stain of having nursed Tom Riddle into adulthood and proudly proclaimed the cunning of one of the bravest wizards to have lived since the time of the Four Founders, still maintained a public united front against the whole of the world. Where someone nurtured in the Viper's Pit would find an open door, the rest would find it barred against them. It was still said, despite their participation in the Final Battle, that Slytherin still looked out for their own and only their own.
The former Head of Gryffindor House watched as a blonde wizard happily made his way to the table of Snakes, her mind took her to another sorting years before. Collecting the children from the Entrance Foyer, her breath had caught as she stared into familiar emerald eyes set in a familiar face she hadn't seen in over a decade. Her voice had become brisk as she had tried to hide the sadness that was swelling in her chest as she ushered the children into the Great Hall. She fought to keep her eyes off the boy, to move past the physical resemblance to his deceased father and the knowing eyes of his mother.
The Transfigurations Mistress tried to catch the dark eyes of her younger colleague, but failed. With a heavy sigh, she placed the rugged hat onto the stool and clasped her shaking hands in front of her as they waited for the year serenade from the charmed hat. The Sorting Hat's song flowed over her, as she caught herself staring at the too thin boy. Unbidden, another boy floated to the front of her mind and she had to fight to bring her attention back to the present. With a deep sigh, she began the sorting itself. "Abbott,Hannah."
The Head of Gryffindor House absently noted the large influx of new students as the first year sorting line shortened. Yes, life was continuing now that the Dark Lord was vanquished, but she hadn't been able to stop herself wondering how much longer they would remain in the eye of the storm as she called the next name listed. "Potter, Harry." It didn't need a soothsayer to predict the sudden hush that covered the Great Hall as the boy had nervously made his way to the stool. Students and staff alike had strained to listen in on the internal conversation between the boy and the hat. The then Deputy Headmistress had glared at the Headmaster as he to was caught up in the moment and leaned across the table. She had spared a fleeting glance at her youngest colleague, receiving a cold sneer in reply.
Unlike his father before him, the Sorting Hat had taken longer to decree the boy's fate and it seemed to the Transfigurations Mistress that the two were arguing before the hat announced it's verdict. ""Gryffindor!""""" She had watched as the boy had sighed with relief before cautiously making his way to his new house. The Gryffindor witch had wanted to ease the attention that the poor boy's name conjured by quickly calling the next name.
As quickly as she could, the Head of Gryffindor House had escaped back to the Head Table. Passing by the morose Head of Slytherin, she had discreetly patted his shoulder before taking her place at the Headmaster's right. Dumbledore's welcoming speech was lost on her as she had kept a stern eye on her house table, prepared to intervene should things suddenly get out of hand thanks to the addition of not only another of the Weasley's, but also the most famous child alive.
Minerva McGonagall jumped slightly as her deputy nudged her ribs, bringing her back to the present. For a few moments, she sat completely still. Her mind still a jumble of memories long since past before standing slowly up and making her way to the podium. The great owl perched at the base unfolded it's wings, projecting the image that it alone was responsible for holding up the top of the podium's platform.
Clearing her throat, the Headmistress let her gaze wander across the Great Hall from the Gryffindor House table to the Ravenclaws, down and across to the Huffelpuffs and finally to rest on the Slytherins. Her heart clenched as ghostly apparitions appeared, seated at their respective house tables. She grabbed the edges of the podium tightly, unaware that her fingers where fading fast into white from the ferocity of her grip. She gasped, collapsing against the podium. Her ears filled with the distant hum as tears welled in her eyes. The witch's chest painfully constricted as a great weight settled upon her shoulders, dragging her to the floor.