If I had a Knut for every tiny face on the opposite side of the Great Hall, I'd have a Sickle.

There were twenty-nine of them, and the House tables looked scant in spite of the fact that attendance was mandatory. Half of the seated students, more or less, would have gone to school with me at some point or another.

I was not ready for the job. Not at all.

The first years were led in by a man and woman who looked vaguely similar to each other, though not familiar to me. While the man stayed behind, the woman set out the Sorting Hat, and it began to sing.

"Welcome, incoming students!
Please don't find me too strange.
I've been informed that Hogwarts
Has undergone a change.
You're all from wizard families,
Or so I have heard tell.
I suppose this makes my job
Easy; that's just as well.
You know of Godric Gryffindor,
Courageous and most daring.
You know of Helga Hufflepuff,
Loyal and just and caring.
You know, as well, of Ravenclaw,
Witty and very clever,
And Slytherin's ambition
To succeed in each endeavor.
I need not summarize this,
But I still have to say
A fact about these Founders
That's important still today.
Despite their many differences
The four were best of friends,
Each contributing special means
To work toward the same ends.
So while you might see your Houses
In terms of loss and winning,
Remember well, your magic lives
Are only just beginning."

The students muttered to themselves. "What the hat means," snapped the woman, "is that you will each come forward when we read your names, one at a time, and try it on. It will tell you which house you belong in, and you will take your seat at the corresponding table."

"Let us begin," said the man. "Aubrey, Ernest."

Ernest was a tall boy, who the Sorting Hat took a few moments to place into Ravenclaw. Next up was Baddock, Catherine; Slytherin. And so on and so forth—the only surname I really recognized from my school days was Derrick, Rachel. Her brother had been a Slytherin Beater; Rachel, however, went to Hufflepuff.

"Yarrow, Desdemona" joined Slytherin to finish the list off—the shortest Sorting I'd ever sat through. Slytherin had eight new students; the other houses, seven each. Poor Evan Jones would be the only boy in the Hufflepuff first-year dormitory.

We ate. Most of the professors looked familiar, other than the two who had led the Sorting. The food at the staff table wasn't much better than what I remembered as a student, but that was fine. I passed on the wine, but enjoyed some brilliant doughnuts for dessert.

And then, after the dessert disappeared, Professor Snape stood up.

"Good evening," he said.

No one responded.

"I have always found it...amusing that a new Headmaster—or Headmistress's—first Welcome Speech can never be entirely their own notions. They are always, of course, promoted from the faculty, and must have the responsibility of welcoming their replacement. Thus, I shall not dawdle in introducing you to Amycus Carrow, who will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts." Funny, Snape almost seemed to sneer as he said that. Everyone in school knew he'd been after that job for ages—maybe he was just bitter he'd "had" to become Headmaster after just one year.

"My duty is particularly onerous," Snape continued, "as more than one of our instructors have, ah, tendered their resignations for personal reasons. In their stead, I introduce you to Alycto Carrow, who will be teaching Muggle Studies." Husband and wife? "Madam Carrow has been most convincing in her zeal for the subject, and as a result, this class will now be mandatory for all students. The Deputy Headmistress and Headmaster—incidentally, the Carrows themselves—will be adjusting your class schedules accordingly tomorrow morning.

I also ought to introduce Fergus Wood, who will be teaching flying lessons and refereeing Quidditch matches. Those wishing to play, or commentate for, Quidditch matches should consult their Heads of Houses." Snape had pulled me aside before the feast and told me that I was not to use the name Bailey. Fine by me. Halved my chances of making a huge blunder on that front.

"And, now that I am free to discuss whatever topics I desire, I wish to pay tribute to someone whose presence at this table is perhaps underappreciated. I speak of Professor Horace Slughorn, who was my Potions professor...some time ago—by no circumstances," he glared at the Ravenclaws, "attempt to infer my age. Professor Slughorn did not plan to stay out of retirement very long when he returned to the school last year; however, he has graciously returned to teach Potions, as he is now needed as the Slytherin Head of House." Really? I had thought the Carrows looked like Slytherin alumni, but maybe I was wrong. "I hope his attention to duty provides an...instructive model for you students."

With a slow nod, he said, "Your Prefects will lead you to your dormitories. Mind the stairs."

The Prefects had been first years when I was a seventh year—I didn't know them. I'd been told that neither of the Head students, Theodore Nott and Mandy Brocklehurst, had themselves been prefects, which was pretty unusual. Then again, a Deputy Headmaster and Headmistress? There were a lot of strange things going on. Even aside from the fact that I was there. From three years in the future. Sometimes I could go entire hours at a time without remembering that.

I also needed to be led to my dormitory, as well as minding the stairs. In the end, it was Professor McGonagall who showed me the way—in a tower by the library, overlooking the training grounds. Perfect.

"You didn't go to Hogwarts?" she said. "Of course not, I'd remember you."

"No," I said shyly, not wanting to look her in the face. McGonagall had been my Head of House, and was always one of my favorite teachers. I didn't want her to catch on.

"All right, then. Well...pay attention to the Headmaster. Mind the stairs."

"I'll try," I promised.