At the farthest end of the Great Hall was another long table, perpendicular to the four house tables. There, beneath a huge Hogwarts crest, sat all the teachers, and this was the table at which Professor Figg sat down. Harry squinted, and saw Professor Figg seat herself between Professor Flitwick and Professor Vector. There was a wide gap on Professor Vector's other side, where Hagrid usually sat. Harry was disappointed that Hagrid wasn't back yet from negotiations with the giants of Europe, a journey which the half-giant had undertaken at the beginning of the summer. At the middle of the table were Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts, Professor Snape, and an empty chair. The empty chair belonged to Professor Minerva McGonagall, who suddenly smiled at the head table. Harry saw Professor Figg wave excitedly at Professor McGonagall. He also noticed that both women wore golden rings on their right little fingers, an adornment Harry had never seen before.

Professor McGonagall presently stood before the students, by a three-legged stool on top of which was positioned a patched, frayed pointed hat. The Great Hall rang with students' applause, which was dying down.

"Oh, I think we've missed the Sorting Hat's song," said Hermione, disappointed.

"But luckily Snape didn't make us miss the Sorting," said Ron happily.

Harry observed that the cluster of first-years looked like a giant burden had been taken off their backs. He smiled, thinking of his his and Ron's own anxiety at their Sorting. Harry had been afraid that the Sorting Hat would reject him outright, and that he would have to go back home to Privet Drive. I thought home meant Privet Drive, thought Harry. How stupid. This is my home, my real place. Hogwarts and the wizarding world is where I belong.

Professor McGonagall unrolled a long parchment. "When I call your name, you will come up and put on the hat." She began reading the names of the first- years.

"Abbott, Christopher!" A short blond boy hurried up to the stool and pulled the Hat onto his head, causing his ears to stick out.

"Hufflepuff!" shouted the Hat, and the Hufflepuff table burst out in applause. The short boy took off the Hat and ran to join the Hufflepuff house.

"Banter, Hazel!" A plump girl came forward and put on the Hat.

"Ravenclaw!" cried the Hat, and the girl went to the raucous table across the aisle from Hufflepuff.

"Burke, Algernon!" Harry applauded distractedly as a thin boy became the first Gryffindor. His mind was spinning with all the surprises of the day. Hagrid still away somewhere in northern Europe. Neville almost trying to fight off both of Malfoy's mastiff-like cronies at once. Mrs. Figg becoming Professor Figg. Ron and Hermione keeping a secret from him, and then Hermione keeping another secret which he had found on the floor by his Hippogriff toy.

"Diggle, Darius!" A boy wearing a silk top hat instead of the standard pointed wizard's hat walked up to the front. Vaguely Harry thought that the top hat reminded him of someone he'd met before.

"Gryffindor!"

Two of three Giffard triplets became Ravenclaws, and the third one became a Gryffindor. Harry thought it was distinctly unfair of the Hat to sort them so unevenly into different houses, because the two Ravenclaws might gang up on the Gryffindor, but then he recalled Albus Dumbledore saying that each student chose their house for themselves; the Hat merely repeated their preference aloud. During Harry's musings, the Hat sorted a striking raven- haired girl named "Goyle, Victoria" into Slytherin; and when Harry watched her scurry to the far table and noticed Malfoy's burly thug Gregory Goyle cheering especially loudly, he realized with a jolt that they must be siblings.

Harry nudged Ron. "Ron, look at that girl. I didn't know Goyle had a sister."

Ron looked. "What? Goyle's sister? That can't be right. Fairly good- looking, isn't she? I don't see any resemblance between the two."

"My gran said there are a bunch of Goyles," said Neville. "Four, I think. Two boys and two girls. Gregory Goyle is the oldest."

"Really?" said Ron, squinting at Gregory Goyle. "Well, our Goyle must've missed out on the genes for good looks. Put long hair on him and he'd easily pass for a hag."

Harry drifted into his own thoughts at that point in the conversation and was considering confronting Hermione when the sound of tittering invaded his thoughts.

Harry looked around, annoyed, at Lavender Brown, the source of the giggling, but she missed his aggravation because she was pointing at one of the first-years.

"Look, Harry!" exclaimed Parvati, pointing. "It's like you've got a twin!"

Harry looked. Among the cluster of first-year students stood one tall, thin boy with a shock of messy, jet-black hair. He had bright green eyes, which peered out from behind thick, round, black-rimmed glasses. The only difference between the first-year and Harry was that the first-year had a rounder face, and Harry was taller and had a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead.

Professor McGonagall was still reading names. "Latham, Leonina" became a Slytherin, while "Leake, Timothy" joined the Ravenclaws. Then Professor McGonagall called "McCabe, Marcus!" and Harry's double moved forward. Immediately the Great Hall broke out into a buzz as everyone tried to figure out whether the real Harry did have a twin or not.

On Ron's other side at the Gryffindor table, Dean Thomas turned around and grinned at Harry. "Does he remind you of anyone, Harry?" he whispered. Harry pulled a grimace and turned back to watch "McCabe, Marcus" pull the Sorting Hat down over his ears.

After a few moments the Hat shouted, "Gryffindor!" and everyone clapped. McCabe hopped enthusiastically off the stool and made his way to the Gryffindor table.

Harry frowned. "I wonder if he does mean to copy me."

Ron snorted. "You really think those glasses are a coincidence?"

"Swinburne, Octavia!"

"Hufflepuff!"

"Probably another one of your fans, Harry," remarked Neville. "Like Colin Creevey and his brother Dennis, or like Ron's sister Ginny."

Harry scowled at Neville. Fortunately for Ginny, she was sitting far down the table and didn't hear Neville, because she would inevitably turn crimson at any mention of Harry's name.

Professor McGonagall was just finishing up the Sorting with "Warbeck, Eustace" ("Ravenclaw!") and "Zabini, Catriona" ("Slytherin!") and then Professor Dumbledore stood up to make his start-of-term announcements.

"Good evening," he began. "Welcome to a fresh new year at Hogwarts! I know you must all be famished, so I will keep my remarks brief.

"To my far left you will find a new face among the teachers. Professor Figg has been in semiretirement for several years, but she is now returning to the Hogwarts staff as our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. I trust you will make her feel welcome." There was a polite smattering of applause. Harry was surprised to see that Snape looked astounded rather than angry as he discovered the identity of the person who had bested him for the position.

"My next announcement also concerns the staff. Rubeus Hagrid, who is groundskeeper of Hogwarts and also teaches Care of Magical Creatures, is away on an important mission. He will return by next week's end, but until then, there will be no Care of Magical Creatures classes. You may use your extra time to finish your homework from other classes, or you may frolic about the grounds at your leisure. However, I must remind you that the Dark Forest is still forbidden to everyone.

"I would now like to comment on the students of authority at the school. We have a new Head Boy and Head Girl. Will those two stand up?" A Gryffindor girl and a Ravenclaw boy stood up and bowed to the polite applause.

"And I would also like to remind you of our new league of prefects. Prefects, don't worry about standing up, there are so many of you this year. But first-years, if you find yourself in need of guidance, seek out these badge-wearing students, or a teacher, or myself, and we will do our best to help you.

"I believe this concludes my announcements. Let the feast begin!"

At Dumbledore's cue, the golden dishes suddenly filled with food. The tables sagged visibly. Everyone gasped in awe, then dug in. Harry stuffed himself with Yorkshire pudding, roast beef, baked potatoes, mashed potatoes, mincemeat pie, peas, carrots, steak, rolls, and every other delicious food imaginable. As they devoured the extensive spread, the Gryffindors discussed Dumbledore's announcements.

"When do you suppose Hagrid'll be back?" Ron asked Harry.

Harry shrugged. "Dumbledore said by the end of next week, but he could be here earlier. Maybe he'll get back this weekend and Care of Magical Creatures will start again next Monday."

Hermione shuddered. "I've just realized. Hagrid's been in Northern Europe, hasn't he? That probably means he's found a whole new load of dangerous animals to bring back and teach us about!" The whole group groaned.

"Who's that new teacher, Figg?" asked Seamus, peering at Professor Figg, who was daintily spearing a Brussel sprout. "What do think 'semiretirement' means?"

"It probably means she took a couple years off from teaching," said Dean.

"She looks about McGonagall's age," said Ron, scrutinizing Professor Figg. "I wonder if they know each other."

"They do," said Harry, "I saw them waving at each other. Look, now look at that."

Professor McGonagall had switched places with Professor Flitwick so that she could sit with Professor Figg. The two women were conversing animatedly.

"Wasn't Professor McGonagall the Head Girl when she came to school here?" Lavender Brown wondered. "Or maybe she was a prefect. I heard Blaise Zabini talking about it once."

"Why do you suppose there are so many prefects this year?" asked Neville.

"Extra security, I'll bet," said Parvati Patil knowingly. "After what happened last year, they're not taking any chances."

As she spoke, Harry busied himself staring into his plate, but he could feel all of their eyes on him. He cleared his throat and raised his head, and they all hastily looked away.

"I wonder what you have to do to become a prefect," said Lavender Brown, nibbling thoughtfully on a dinner roll.

"Have really good grades is part of it, I'll bet," said Dean. "And you'd need a clean record. Which means basically all of us except Lavender and Parvati are out of the running."

"You might not necessarily need a clean record," objected Ron. "That Slytherin prefect over at the end has had about eighty detentions since he got here six years ago. But he does have really high marks, Fred told me."

Harry was hardly listening to Ron. At the first mention of prefects, he had started watching Hermione. Now, as Ron finished talking, she discreetly put her hand into the pocket of her robes, then froze. Panic slowly set in on her face, and she fumbled through all of the pockets in her robes. She desisted in her search and sat still for a moment, seemingly thinking, then whispered, "Oh!" and half-rose, interrupting Seamus in mid-sentence.

"Where're you going, 'Er-my-knee?" asked Ron through his mashed potatoes.

"Oh," said Hermione, looking like she was wracking her brain for an answer, "I think I lost something- that is, I might have forgotten something on the train- or maybe the carriage- or I might have dropped, erm, something outside."

"What is it?" inquired Lavender, starting to get to her feet. "We'll help you look."

"No, no," said Hermione hurriedly, "I can find it."

"Stay here, Lavender. I'll go with Hermione," said Harry.

"No, Harry, sit down-" began Hermione, but Harry shot her a warning look and she stopped, confused.

"Let's go look in the Entrance Hall," said Harry. "We'll be back in a couple minutes," he added to the rest of the group, who were not listening, Ron and Dean having restarted their long-standing argument about Quidditch versus Muggle football.

Harry and Hermione went out into the Entrance Hall. When they were safely out of the Gryffindor table's view, Harry pulled Hermione into a corner. She looked at him blankly.

"Harry, what were you glaring at me for? I have to go look for my, ah, my- "

"Looking for this?" asked Harry in a low voice, pulling out the prefect badge that he had found by his Hippogriff figurine. It had Hermione Granger engraved on the back. Her eyes widened and she snatched it from his hand.

"Where did you find this?"

"It must have fallen out of your pocket in the carriage. I found it under the seats. Hermione, why didn't you tell us you were a prefect?"

Hermione stared at the floor. "I didn't know how you would react."

Harry looked at her curiously. "Who exactly do you mean by 'you', Hermione? Is there any certain person whom you're worried about pleasing?"

"No," Hermione said, too quickly. "But I didn't know what all of you would say."

"You're our best friend, Hermione. We already know how smart and responsible you are. You being a prefect doesn't make a difference to me. And Ron will probably be happy that he can use the prefects' bathroom now."

Hermione's head snapped up at his last words. "No he can't! That bathroom's for prefects only, he has to use his own one! It's against the rules!"

Harry grinned. "See? You're obviously perfect for the job. Come on, we can tell everyone else now." He started to move towards the Great Hall's double doors, and after an uncertain pause, Hermione followed him.

"Hermione," Harry said as they walked back to their table, "will you and Ron ever tell me what happened on the train?"

"Nothing happened," said Hermione immediately, but Harry distinctly noticed her face flush. He sighed, too exasperated to continue his inquiries, and resettled himself in his seat.

"Find what you were looking for, Hermione?" asked Seamus.

Hermione hesitated, then nodded. "Yes." She pinned on her prefect badge, and everyone gaped at her.

"Wow Hermione," gushed Parvati, "I didn't know you were a prefect!"

Hermione smiled at her. Then her expression turned stern and she looked around the table. "But that doesn't mean I can overlook your breaking the rules at all, you know."

"Speaking of breaking the rules," began Ron, and launched into a side- splitting story about the time his brothers Fred and George had hidden fireworks in Mrs. Norris' litterbox.

After the dinner foods had disappeared, mouth-watering desserts materialized in their place, and everyone who had been declaring how full they were suddenly found more room in their stomachs for apple pies, chocolate cakes, huge blocks of ice cream in every flavour imaginable, strawberry shortcake, cheesecake, and much more. The students pounced on the delectable desserts and soon those were gone, too.

"Say," Dean Thomas said through a mouthful of cheesecake, "that new professor-is her name Arabella Figg?"

"Yeah," Harry said, surprised. "How did you know?"

"I got her card in my Chocolate Frog on the train." Dean pulled a stack of cards from his pocket. "Famous witches and wizards, you know. Here it is."

"Can I see?" Harry asked, abandoning his apple pie. He took the card from Dean and studied it. "Arabella Figg" was printed over a picture of a severe-looking Mrs. Figg, who nodded quickly at Harry before wandering out of the frame. The biography read:

"Arabella Figg: One of Britain's most illustrious Aurors since leaving school, Figg studied Defence Against the Dark Arts under the tutelage of the legendary Auror Alastor Moody. After an impressive ten-year career hunting evil wizards that earned her the Order of Merlin, Second Class, Arabella became the Potions mistress at Hogwarts. Her hobbies include photography and taking care of her numerous cats."

"An Auror," Harry said to himself, stunned. "It can't be!" After getting Dean's permission, he pocketed the card.

After every morsel of food had disappeared, Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. "I trust we all ate well?" he asked, and there were murmurs of assent all around the Great Hall. Dumbledore smiled. "Before leaving for your dormitories, I believe we have a tradition to uphold, so let's sing the Hogwarts song. Pick your favourite tune and off we go!" A flick of his wand released a golden thread, which unfurled into the words of the school song. After the students had finished, all at different times, Dumbledore dabbed at his eyes and sighed. "Ah, music, the truest magic of any known to mankind. You may now go to your living quarters. I bid you good night."

Hermione stood and called out over the table, "First years, follow me!" She led the exhausted-looking first year students out of the Great Hall.

The Gryffindors walked out after them, talking and laughing, but Harry and Ron lagged behind. They climbed the stairs behind the rest of their friends.

"Hermione's really good at this job, isn't she?" Harry remarked, looking up the stairs at their friend, who was directing the first-years down a long hallway lined with suits of armour bewitched to salute passerby.

"Yeah, I guess so," mumbled Ron. His gaze was on his feet.

"You know, Ron," said Harry prudently, feeling that this could be the appropriate moment to pursue his investigations, "if she did hex you on the train, you don't have to be ashamed about it. Even if she is a girl, she's a lot smarter than both of us-"

"She didn't hex me," Ron said, tight-lipped. "Nothing happened, Harry."

"Then why won't anyone tell me about it?" demanded Harry, frustrated. This had obviously been the wrong time to bring up the topic.

"Drop it, Harry," said Ron crossly. "I don't want to talk about it."

So Harry was quiet, and they trudged the rest of the way to Gryffindor tower in silence.

"Password?" asked the Fat Lady when they got to the portrait hole after everyone else had gone in.

"What's the password?" Harry asked Ron. Ron's answer was a blank look.

Then the portrait swung open from the inside and Hermione peered out at them. "Come on, I was wondering where two'd got to. Password's snickerdoodle, by the way."

Harry and Ron climbed inside and Harry felt a wave of relief sweep him. Home, he thought, taking in the familiar sights of the Gryffindor common room.

"Are you tired?" asked Ron, and Harry nodded. "Then let's just go straight to our room. I'm dying to go to sleep."

After saying good-night to Hermione, Harry and Ron skirted the crowd of Gryffindors who were sitting on the squashy couches and in the overstuffed armchairs by the huge fireplace and chatting, and proceeded directly up another flight of stone steps to the fifth-year boys' dormitory. Harry halted in the doorway and looked round at the cozy four-poster beds with their heavy scarlet curtains, and a wide grin spread across his face.

"I missed this room a lot during the summer," he said aloud. "More than ever before, I wanted to be back here. You understand, don't you Ron?"

He turned to consult Ron, but the other boy had already crawled into his four-poster and fallen asleep with his clothes on. Harry chuckled. He quietly changed into his pajamas and clambered into his own bed, and almost immediately fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.