Chapter Two: The New Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher
Hermoine took her seat next to Harry at the Gryffindor table. Harry looked uncomfortable. Some of the other students, Gryffindors among them, snuck glances at him. Some were filled with sympathy, others filled with scorn. It was obvious that none of the students forgot about Cedric's death. Harry had never become used to the stares of the others. It was so much worse now. Hermoine wanted to help her friend, but she couldn't. She didn't know how.
A hush descended on the room as the professors came in. Hermoine wondered who would be the newest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Ever since they had arrived at Hogwarts, no teacher had filled the Defense Against the Dark Arts position for more then a year. It was a joke to most of the students. Hermoine was starting to think that the position was cursed.
Dumbledore, his face looking even more worn then the last year, stood.
"Hagrid," he called, "send in the new students." There was a buzz in the room, though it was quickly silenced by Professor McGonagal's stern gaze. Hermoine knew that they had expect Dumbledore to say "send in the first years," as he always did. Evidently, no one had noticed Patrice on the train but them and Malfoy.
The first years slowly came in, awe on their young faces. Only Patrice, standing at the back of the group, looked confident. The others trembled, fear and excitement mingling on the young faces. Hermoine barely remembered what it was like to be that young, that naive. . . that happy. She missed being carefree, when the biggest mystery was solved in under an hour's work. She wished she could go back to a time when she knew all the answers.
The new students came to a stop before the old, tattered hat. Most looked over the hat, staring up expectantly at Dumbledore. He smiled patiently, and many older students grinned. The hat began to wiggle. It opened what Hermoine considered to be it's eyes, and looked around at the students. Finally, the enchanted hat began to sing.
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But pretty soon you'll find,
There's not any Hat like me
Unless, I've lost my mind.
Now step up here before me,
Don't be afraid to know,
To let me see you heart.
And find where you should go.
To Gryffindor, the proud and strong
To Hufflepuff, the loyal and bright
To Slytherinth, cunning and filled with might
Or to Ravenclaw, the smart and true
Let me see where you belong,
No choice is wrong.
Hermoine grinned. She loved listening to the Hat. The thing had the whole year to make up a song. She kind of pitied it, knowing it only had a brief moment every year when it was important to people. The rest of the time, the Hat sat in Dumbledore's office, virtually forgotten.
The first name was called out.
"Serena Kortan." The nervous young girl climbed up onto the stool, and placed the hat on her head. The Hat grinned.
"Hufflepuff!" he cried out. A happy shout rang from the Hufflepuff table. The little girl ran over, into the arms of a second or third year who must have been her big sister.
"Jordan Tylar."
The Hat sat gently on his head, seeming to think.
"Ravenclaw," he announced. A cheer rang from the Ravenclaw table.
"Cedric Dion!"
A hush fell over the room as the little boy climbed onto the stool. The name of Cedric brought back a deep pain to many students. The boy looked decidedly uncomfortable with all eyes on him.
"Gryffindor," the Hat announced quietly. The boy beamed, and a cheer went up. Hermoine was surprised to find tears in her eyes. She hadn't known Cedric well at all, but thinking about him still brought pain.
Hermoine tuned out for a while, lost in her own thoughts. She cheered automatically when Harry began to cheer, just so she wouldn't look stuck up. Dumbledore stood up to address them again. Hermoine perked up. She realized that Patrice still stood next to Hagrid. Patrice hadn't yet been sorted.
"Many unusual things will happen this year," Dumbledore told them. "There will be more restrictions on students, with higher penalties. Any student caught doing anything prohibited will be punished severely. Teachers, you'll find, will be a little busier, classes a little longer. There will be no social functions if House points fall or remain below fifty. Matches of Quidditch will only count at the end, not until then, so do not rely on that to save your house." The students stared in horror. Hermoine was very surprised by Dumbledore's strict announcement. His tone brightened. "We also have a new student transferring from one of our North American counterparts." He waved his hand in Patrice's direction. "Ms. Patrice Esotich."
She flushed, and stepped up to the Sorting Hat. The Great Hall filled with dubious whispers. Slowly, Patrice put the old Hat on her head. The Hat looked to be in turmoil. Hermoine wondered what it was saying as it mumbled to Patrice. She simply smiled tentatively at the crowd. The Hat finally made it's triumphant announcement.
"Gryffindor." Hermoine let out an exuberant clap. Something felt strange again, though. She looked around, saw nothing, so decided to ignore the feeling.
Patrice took a seat near Hermoine. She was still blushing furiously.
"Welcome to Gryffindor," Hermoine whispered. The shy girl grinned, acting more like a first year. "It's okay, Patrice. You can calm down," Hermoine added. "You confused people, but it's alright now."
"Thanks, Hermoine."
The door came open. Everyone turned to look. A young woman stood in the doorway, looking disheveled. She wore the same robes as the teachers, but she looked barely eighteen. Her flaming red hair stuck out at odd places from her bun. She was tall and gangly. It was easy to tell that she was thin even under her robes. She wore heavy purple eye shadow and very obvious blush. She looked like a teen who had a run in with a makeup bent on destroying her. She grinned at the students, and waved to three first years at the Slytherinth table. Even the older Slytherinths were disturbed by her odd manner. She couldn't be a teacher, could she?
"Ah, Mrs. Coeur, so nice of you to join us." The woman bowed her head to Dumbledore.
"I had some. . . . difficulties." She swept her gaze across the room. Hermoine stifled a gasp. Her eyes seemed to have no end to their depth. Magic seemed to sparkle out of her, without the use of her wand. It was an odd feeling. The feeling of foreboding returned. Hermoine felt the rock of worry come back to her stomach. She sensed that the woman was incredibly dangerous.
"This is just positively cozy," Mrs. Coeur exclaimed. She had a strange accent that Hermoine couldn't quite place, a strange lilt in her voice."Excuse me, Headmaster, but I must see to the, erm, mess, I left in your office." With that, she was gone again. The other students began whispering in excitement and bewilderment.
Hermoine looked at Harry and Ron. Ron looked like he didn't know what to think.
"Every year," sighed Ron, "they get just a little loopier." Harry laughed. Hermoine just shook her head.
"And every year," she thought with a shudder, "we get ourselves into deeper trouble."
