Chapter 3
The remainder of the journey passed quickly and uneventfully. There was some speculation by the friends about who would be the next Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.
'Maybe that was her,' suggested Ginny.
'Don't be daft. She wasn't old and haggard enough,' replied Ron.
'Lockhart wasn't old and haggard,' stated Hermione reticently.
'True, but he was a total prat,' answered Harry.
'No,' continued Ron, laughing a little.' What I mean is she doesn't look like she's had enough experience to be able to teach us. I mean, we've had two supporters of You-know-who - one of whom was escaped from Askaban-, the total prat - who probably thought dark art was something to do with dying your hair-, and a werewolf who nearly killed Snape…'
'If only he had,' wished Harry out loud.
'…so far. What's left?'
They continued talking until the train stopped in Hogsmeade station. They alighted in pleasant enough moods, despite the tiredness. However, the first thing Harry saw when he got off did not inspire him with the warmest of feelings. Standing next to the queue for the carriages to take the students up to the castle was Professor Snape. He was arguably one of the best teachers in the school, but had a tendency to be nasty to most students - and Harry was no exception. Seeing the greasy-haired potions master standing looking directly at him now made Harry absolutely certain that nothing had changed from the previous year. Not that he had ever thought that Snape could alter his personality from one extreme to even mid-way in one season.
Harry paid no attention to Snape, but only looked on in mild curiosity as he greeted the mystery woman in a manner that could be described as nothing less than civil. All the while Snape kept glancing over at Harry.
'Is he trying to make me nervous, or something. I mean, I haven't even reached the school yet…' Harry said to Ron. But Ron was paying him no attention. He was too busy grinning. By this time, Harry had neglected to notice the lady had handed a bag to Snape, who had absent-mindedly taken hold of it. She began to walk off, and then he realised what he had in his hand. He set off after, not looking too impressed, but when he reached her she smiled sweetly at him. The forced smile that emerged in return would have scared small children, but it had Ron in stitches. Snape then helped the woman into one of the waiting carriages, and disappeared from sight as he got in himself.
'What a cheek - jumping the queue!' exclaimed Hermione.
'What did you expect Snape to do - be polite and wait in line?' asked Ginny sarcastically.
'He could have at least said excuse me,' replied Hermione, seeming rather irate about Snape's utter disregard for rules and conventions of politeness.
'Hiya, 'arry!' called a voice from next to the lake. The body to whom the voice belonged was surrounded by very small people. Although, anyone would've looked small next to Hagrid.
'Hi, Hagrid,' replied Harry as he wandered by. 'See you in the Great Hall.'
The four of them sat at the middle of the Gryffindor table when they reached the Hall. Before the feast would be laid on the tables, there was the Sorting of the first years to endure. Harry looked around and saw many faces he recognised and some that he didn't. That was one of the strange and scary things of his situation, he thought to himself. Everybody in the wizarding world knew his name, and probably more about his heritage than he did, but he still felt he knew so little about this world and so few people in it.
He was distracted once more by Hermionie and Ron discussing who was who at the Teacher's table. Seated in the middle was Dumbledore, the headmaster. Harry looked at him and could tell something wasn't right - Dumbledore didn't look like Dumbledore. The first thing that jumped into his mind was polyjuice potion, but then he looked closer and realised that it was Dumbledore, only he seemed to have aged dramatically over the summer- he looked every one of his 150+ years.
To Dumbledore's right was Professor McGonagall - the transfiguration teacher and head of Harry's house. Further along was the lady from the train. She spotted Harry looking and gave him a little wave. At this point the man she was talking to looked round at Harry also.
'Who do you think he is then?' wondered Ginny.
Now there is someone I do recognise, thought Harry.
'Diggle. Dedalus Diggle,' he said.
'How do you know him?' asked Hermione.
'I met him in the Leaky Cauldron the summer before I started here. Bit of a strange kind of man, if I remember. He kept shaking my hand so much his top hat fell off.'
'Wonder what he's doing here,' thought Ron. Though the temptation to say 'teaching - obviously' was very great, Harry bit his tongue. He thought he might sound a bit too much like Hermione if he said it.
'They seem to be getting on rather well, don't they,' observed Hermione, possibly hinting at something Harry didn't understand.
'Snape doesn't look too happy, does he?' chimed Ron, sounding positively ecstatic about it. Ron was right. Snape was on the opposite end of the table to Diggle and was sitting next to Professor Sinistra, the astronomy teacher. Snape was obviously not pleased with where he was - Harry guessed, by the way he kept looking down the table towards Diggle's place, that he'd much rather be next to the mystery lady. Harry also notices the look of anger on Professor Sinistra's face when every time she tried to talk to Snape, he ignored her or told her to not be so boring.
Before the Sorting Professor McGonagall introduced Diggle, who was to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, and the 'lilac lady' from then on was revealed to be Professor Mooney - the new Muggle Studies teacher.
After the first years were allocated to their houses, the school was permitted to eat. The dishes in front of Harry filled with so much food, he was spoiled for choice. Something was distracting Harry, though. It was Dumbledore. Harry noticed, but doubted anyone else had, that the headmaster spent most of the meal sitting babbling away to himself. Harry knew that Dumbledore was reputed to be a little eccentric, but he was not, by any stretch of the imagination, 'crazy' enough to sit and talk to no one but himself for a full two hours.
All of the Gryffindors were glad to retire that night. The day had been long and everyone wanted to get some sleep. But, try as he might, Harry couldn't stop his mind from racing. He told himself that he had only been back at the school for a matter of hours, and there couldn't possibly be anything going on. And yet…
He still couldn't understand why Fudge had been at Kings Cross with Professor Mooney. Or why she had got the train at all. The only other teacher he had ever seen on the train was Lupin two years ago… Eventually he drifted off into a dreamless sleep, which was a welcome state after the chaos that had been going on in his mind for the last few hours.
