"Christina did not inform the others that she, Harry, and Luna were having the same hallucination, if that was what it was, so she said nothing about the horses as they sat down inside the carriage and slammed the door shut. Nevertheless, she could not help watching the silhouettes of the horses moving beyond the window.
"Did everyone see that Grubbly-Plank woman?" asked Ginny. "What's she doing back here? Hagrid can't have left, can he?"
"I'll be quite glad if he has," said Luna. "He isn't a very good teacher, is he?"
"Yes, he is!" said Harry, Ron, and Ginny angrily. Harry glared at Christina and Hermione; Hermione cleared her throat and quickly said, "Erm . . . yes . . . he's very good." Christina just looked away.
"Well, we think he's a bit of a joke in Ravenclaw," said Luna, unfazed.
"You've got a rubbish sense of humor then," Ron snapped, as the wheels below them creaked into motion. Luna did not seem perturbed by Ron's rudeness; on the contrary, she simply watched him for a while as though he were a mildly interesting television program. Rattling and swaying, the carriages moved in convoy up the road. When they passed between the tall stone pillars topped with winged boars on either side of the gates to the school grounds, Christina leaned forward to try and see whether there were any lights on in Hagrid's cabin by the Forbidden Forest, but the grounds were in complete darkness. Hogwarts Castle, however, loomed ever closer: a towering mass of turrets, jet-black against the dark sky, here and there a window blazing fiery bright above them. The carriages jingled to a halt near the stone steps leading up to the oak front doors and Harry got out of the carriage first. Christina noticed him looking at the black horses again and knew people were starting to stare.
"Are you coming or what?" said Christina beside him.
"Oh . . . yeah," said Harry quickly, and they joined the crowd hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. 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 feast. The four long House tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the starless black ceiling, which was just like the sky they could glimpse through the high windows. Candles floated in midair all along the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall and the faces of the students talking eagerly to one another, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other Houses, eyeing one another's new haircuts and robes. Again Christina noticed people putting their heads together to whisper as she and Harry passed; she rolled her eyes and trudged along.
"Luna drifted away from them at the Ravenclaw table. The moment they reached Gryffindor's, Ginny was hailed by some fellow fourth years and left to sit with them; Christina, 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, the last two of whom gave Christina airy, overly friendly greetings that made her quite sure they had stopped talking about her a split second before.
"He's not there." Harry said, scanning the table at the front of the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione scanned the staff table too, though there was no real need; Hagrid's size made him instantly obvious in any lineup.
"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 Christina at once.
"But where is he, then?" asked Harry. 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. Christina's eyes followed hers. They lit first upon Professor Dumbledore, sitting in his high-backed golden chair at the center of the long staff table, wearing deep-purple robes scattered with silvery stars and a matching hat. Dumbledore's head was inclined toward the woman sitting next to him, who was talking into his ear. She looked, Christina thought, like somebody's maiden aunt: squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes. Then she turned her face slightly to take a sip from her goblet and Christina saw, with a shock of recognition, a pallid, toadlike face and a pair of prominent, pouchy eyes.
"It's that Umbridge woman!" Christina said in a forced whisper.
"Who?" said Hermione.
"She was at our hearing, she works for Fudge!" Harry added in an excited whisper.
"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 . . ." Christina did not understand what she was talking about but did not ask; her attention had just been caught by Professor Grubbly-Plank who had just appeared behind the staff table; she worked her way along to the very end and took the seat that ought to have been Hagrid's. That meant that the first years must have crossed the lake and reached the castle, and sure enough, a few seconds later, the doors from the entrance hall opened. 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. The buzz of talk in the Great Hall faded away. The first years lined up in front of the staff table facing the rest of the students, and Professor McGonagall placed the stool carefully in front of them, then stood back. The first years' faces glowed palely in the candlelight. A small boy right in the middle of the row looked as though he was trembling.
"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 Gryffndor?
"Unless it was the second pair
"Of Huffepuff and Ravenclaw?
"So 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, for the first time in Christina's memory, with muttering and whispers. All across the Great Hall students were exchanging remarks with their neighbors and Christina, clapping along with everyone else, knew exactly what they were talking about.
"Branched out a bit this year, hasn't it?" said Ron, his eyebrows raised.
"Too right it has," said Harry. The Sorting Hat usually confined itself to describing the different qualities looked for by each of the four Hogwarts Houses and its own role in sorting them; Christina could not remember it ever trying to give the school advice before.
"I wonder if it's ever given warnings before?" said Hermione, sounding slightly anxious.
"Yes, indeed," said Nearly Headless Nick knowledgeably, leaning across Neville toward her (Neville winced, it was very uncomfortable to have a ghost lean through you). "The hat feels itself honor-bound to give the school due warning whenever it feels —" But 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. Nearly Headless Nick placed a see-through finger to his lips and sat primly upright again as the muttering came to an abrupt end. With a last frowning look that swept the four House tables, Professor McGonagall lowered her eyes to her long piece of parchment and called out, "Abercrombie, Euan." The terrified-looking boy Christina had noticed earlier stumbled forward and put the hat on his head; it was only prevented from falling right down to his shoulders by his very prominent ears. The hat considered for a moment, then the rip near the brim opened again and shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" Christina clapped loudly with the rest of Gryffindor House as Euan Abercrombie staggered to their table and sat down, looking as though he would like very much to sink through the floor and never be looked at again.
"Slowly the long line of first years thinned; in the pauses between the names and the Sorting Hat's decisions, Christina could hear Ron's stomach rumbling loudly. Finally, "Zeller, Rose" was sorted into Hufflepuff, and Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and stool and marched them away as Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet. Christina was somehow soothed to see Dumbledore standing before them all, whatever her recent bitter feelings toward her headmaster. Between the absence of Hagrid and the presence of those dragonish horses, she had felt that her return to Hogwarts, so long anticipated, was full of unexpected surprises like jarring notes in a familiar song. But this, at least, was how it was supposed to be: their headmaster rising to greet them all before the start-of-term feast.
"To our newcomers," said Dumbledore in a ringing voice, his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his lips, "welcome! To our old hands — welcome back! 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.
"Excellent," said Ron, with a kind of groan of longing, and he seized the nearest plate of chops and began piling them onto his plate, watched wistfully by Nearly Headless Nick.
"
"What were you saying before the Sorting?" Hermione asked the ghost. "About the hat giving warnings?"
"Oh yes," said Nick, who seemed glad of a reason to turn away from Ron, who was now eating roast potatoes with almost indecent enthusiasm. "Yes, I have heard the hat give several warnings before, always at times when it detects periods of great danger for the school. And always, of course, its advice is the same: Stand together, be strong from within."
"Ow kunnit nofe skusin danger ifzat?" said Ron. His mouth was so full Christina thought it was quite an achievement for him to make any noise at all.
"I beg your pardon?" said Nearly Headless Nick politely, while Hermione looked revolted. Ron gave an enormous swallow and said, "How can it know if the school's in danger if it's a hat?"
"I have no idea," said Nearly Headless Nick. "Of course, it lives in Dumbledore's office, so I daresay it picks things up there."
"And it wants all the Houses to be friends?" said Harry, looking over at the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy was holding court. "Fat chance."
"Well, now, you shouldn't take that attitude," said Nick reprovingly. "Peaceful cooperation, that's the key. We ghosts, though we belong to separate Houses, maintain links of friendship. In spite of the competitiveness between Gryffindor and Slytherin, I would never dream of seeking an argument with the Bloody Baron."
"Only because you're terrified of him," said Ron. Nearly Headless Nick looked highly affronted.
"Terrified? I hope I, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, have never been guilty of cowardice in my life! The noble blood that runs in my veins —"
"What blood?" asked Ron. "Surely you haven't still got — ?"
"It's a figure of speech!" said Nearly Headless Nick, now so annoyed his head was trembling ominously on his partially severed neck.
"I assume I am still allowed to enjoy the use of whichever words I like, even if the pleasures of eating and drinking are denied me! But I am quite used to students poking fun at my death, I assure you!"
"Nick, he wasn't really laughing at you!" said Hermione, throwing a furious look at Ron. Unfortunately, Ron's mouth was packed to exploding point again and all he could manage was "node iddum eentup sechew," which Nick did not seem to think constituted an adequate apology. Rising into the air, he straightened his feathered hat and swept away from them to the other end of the table, coming to rest between the Creevey brothers, Colin and Dennis.
"Well done, Ron," snapped Christina.
"What?" said Ron indignantly, having managed, finally, to swallow his food. "I'm not allowed to ask a simple question?"
"Oh forget it," said Christina irritably.
"When all the students had finished eating and the noise level in the hall was starting to creep upward again, Dumbledore got to his feet once more. Talking ceased immediately as all turned to face the headmaster. Christina was feeling pleasantly drowsy now. Her four-poster bed was waiting somewhere above, wonderfully warm and soft. . . .
"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," said Dumbledore. "First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students — and a few of our older students ought to know by now too." (Christina, Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged smirks.)
"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door.
"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause during which Christina, Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged slightly panicked looks; Dumbledore had not said for how long Grubbly-Plank would be teaching. Dumbledore continued, "Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the —" He broke off, looking inquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Professor Umbridge said,
"Hem, hem," and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech. Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, then he sat back down smartly and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. Other members of staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair, and Professor McGonagall's mouth was as thin as Christina had ever seen it. No new teacher had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. Many of the students were smirking; this woman obviously did not know how things were done at Hogwarts.
"Thank you, Headmaster," Professor Umbridge simpered, "for those kind words of welcome." Her voice was high-pitched, breathy, and little-girlish and again, Christina felt a powerful rush of dislike that she could not explain to herself; all she knew was that she loathed everything about her, from her stupid voice to her fluffy pink cardigan. She gave another little throatclearing cough ("Hem, hem") and continued: "Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. "And to see such happy little faces looking back at me!" Christina glanced around. None of the faces she could see looked happy; on the contrary, they all looked rather taken aback at being addressed as though they were five years old.
"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!" Students exchanged looks at this; some of them were barely concealing grins. "I'll be her friend as long as I don't have to borrow that cardigan," Parvati whispered to Lavender, and both of them lapsed into silent giggles. Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again ("Hem, hem"), but when she continued, some of the breathiness had vanished from her voice. She sounded much more businesslike and now her words had a dull learned-by-heart sound to them.
"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 through the generations lest we lose them forever. 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." Professor Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back. Professor McGonagall's dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawklike, and Christina distinctly saw her exchange a significant glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge gave another little "Hem, hem" and went on with her speech.
"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation . . ." Christina found her attentiveness ebbing, as though her brain was slipping in and out of tune. The quiet that always filled the Hall when Dumbledore was speaking was breaking up as students put their heads together, whispering and giggling. Over at the Ravenclaw table, Luna Lovegood had got out The Quibbler again. Meanwhile at the Hufflepuff table, Ernie Macmillan was one of the few still staring at Professor Umbridge, but he was glassy-eyed and Christina was sure he was only pretending to listen in an attempt to live up to the new prefect's badge gleaming on his chest. Professor Umbridge did not seem to notice the restlessness of her audience. Christina had the impression that a full-scale riot could have broken out under her nose and she would have plowed on with her speech. The teachers, however, were still listening very attentively, and Hermione seemed to be drinking in every word Umbridge spoke, though judging by her expression, they were not at all to her taste.
". . . because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgment. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited." She sat down. Dumbledore clapped. The staff followed his lead, though Christina noticed that several of them brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping. A few students joined in, but most had been taken unawares by the end of the speech, not having listened to more than a few words of it, and before they could start applauding properly, Dumbledore had stood up again.
"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating," he said, bowing to her. "Now — as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held . . ." "
"Yes, it certainly was illuminating," said Hermione in a low voice.
"You're not telling me you enjoyed it?" Ron said quietly, turning a glazed face upon
Hermione. "That was about the dullest speech I've ever heard, and I grew up with Percy."
"I said illuminating, not enjoyable," said Hermione. "It explained a lot."
"Did it?" said Harry in surprise. "Sounded like a load of waffle to me."
"There was some important stuff hidden in the waffle," said Hermione grimly.
"Was there?" said Ron blankly.
"How about 'progress for progress's sake must be discouraged'? How about 'pruning
wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited'?"
"Well, what does that mean?" said Ron impatiently.
"I'll tell you what it means," said Hermione ominously. "It means the Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts." There was a great clattering and banging all around them; Dumbledore had obviously just dismissed the school, because everyone was standing up ready to leave the Hall. Hermione jumped up, looking flustered.
"Ron, we're supposed to show the first years where to go!"
"Oh yeah," said Ron, who had obviously forgotten. "Hey — hey you lot! Midgets!"
"Ron!"
"Well, they are, they're titchy. . . ."
"I know, but you can't call them midgets. . . . First years!" Hermione called commandingly
along the table. "This way, please!" A group of new students walked shyly up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, all of them trying hard not to lead the group. Christina grinned at them. A blond boy next to Euan Abercrombie looked petrified, nudged Euan, and whispered something in his ear. Euan Abercrombie looked equally frightened and stole a horrified look at Christina, who felt the grin slide off her face like Stinksap.
"See you later," she said to Ron and Hermione, and she and Harry made their way out of the Great Hall alone, attempting to ignore more whispering, staring, and pointing as they passed.
"Am I crazy or is everyone talking about us?" Christina asked Harry quietly. "You're definitely not crazy, although I may go crazy from all this. . . " Harry said as they wove through the crowd in the entrance hall and up the marble staircase.
"Should've expected this, last time people saw us we were emerging from the Triwizard maze with a dead body and raving about Lord Voldemort" Harry said bitterly. Christina felt a twinge of anger to Harry referring to Cedric Diggory as a 'dead body' but didn't want to fight with Harry. They continued in silence.
"They had reached the end of the corridor to the Gryffindor common room and had come to a halt in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. Both exchanged looks to see if the other had the password and both shook their heads.
"Er . . ." he said glumly, staring up at the Fat Lady, who smoothed the folds of her pink satin dress and looked sternly back at him.
"No password, no entrance," she said loftily.
"Harry, Christina, I know it!" someone panted from behind them, and they turned to see Neville jogging toward them.
"Guess what it is? I'm actually going to be able to remember it for once —" He waved the stunted little cactus he had shown them on the train. "Mimbulus mimbletonia!"
"Correct," said the Fat Lady, and her portrait swung open toward them like a door, revealing a circular hole in the wall behind, through which Christina, Harry and Neville now climbed. The Gryffindor common room looked as welcoming as ever, a cozy circular tower room full of dilapidated squashy armchairs and rickety old tables. A fire was crackling merrily in the grate and a few people were warming their hands before going up to their dormitories; on the other side of the room Fred and George Weasley were pinning something up on the notice board. Christina rushed over to the twins and hugged Fred from behind. She always had a talent for telling them apart, even from behind.
"Look who made it back!" Fred said sweetly, turning around and kissing her. Christina saw in the corner of her eye that Harry went upstairs to the boy's dormitory without a word. She ignored him, knowing full-well that he probably took issue with her greeting the twins.
"Making money already?" she asked, looking up at the twins' advertisement for their products.
"Trying to" said George.
"It's going to be a great year" added Fred. Christina stared at the flyer with a hard face, she certainly hoped it would be a good year, but knew with every pointed eye and bitter whisper from behind her it would be a difficult one.