A/N: Okay, this is very similar to what JKR wrote in the HPPS, but of course, all of the start of term feasts would be similar. Anyone who can't recognise whose work is whose is in desperate mental problems and should consult the books another hundred times. The main difference is that she owns them, I do not, and therefore she is paid for it, I am not (unfortunately).

James watched as the doors to the Great Hall burst open and the students flooded in to begin their new year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A young girl took his old seat at the end of the Gryffindor table, a sixth- or seventh-year by the looks of her. She appeared to be deep in conversation with two boys sitting across from her. James spared a thought for when he, Ron and Hermione would sit, talking like that, then dragged himself back to the present. Dwelling on the past would not help him, would not help these children he was meant to teach.

James himself received a number of curious glances, mostly from the younger students. For the older ones, well used to the 'curse' on the position, a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was no big deal - there had been one every year they could remember.

When everyone seemed to be seated, Dumbledore nodded to Minerva. She walked to the main door at the back of the Hall to bring in the new first-years, anxiously waiting to be Sorted. They came in, most staring around at the other students, the ceiling, the ghosts and the paintings on the walls. There seemed to be a lot more of them than he remembered and they all seemed very small, much smaller than he himself had been. James grinned; even the second-years were probably thinking that, those of them that were paying attention at any rate. He levelled a severe glare at a pair of Hufflepuffs who were giggling secretively at the far end of their table. They ignored him, probably never having seen him in the first place. He scowled, irritated. All Severus Snape seemed to have to do was look at the brats and they'd shut up. Then, Severus had a certain reputation that James was yet to gain.

Minerva brought out the stool and placed the Sorting Hat carefully on top. Then, everything prepared, Dumbledore rapped his glass with a spoon and the Hall fell silent at once. The Hat twitched and burst into song. James listened, fondly remembering the past songs he'd heard particularly the very first one when he had been standing there himself, terrified that he'd fail whatever test was about to be given to them. A few of the first-years visibly relaxed as they realised all they'd have to do was to try it on. No doubt, older siblings had told them stories about trolls and the like just as Fred and George had done to Ron.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment that hung down in front of her.

"When I call your name, you will put on the Hat and sit on the stool to be Sorted into your houses," she said.

The Sorting began. James watched as, one by one, the children were Sorted into their houses, the tables applauding each time the Hat called out a house. There were a few surnames that he recognised, whether that was coincidence or not, he had no way of knowing. Still, there couldn't be that many Boneses, that many Spinnets.

"Wood, Simon," Minerva read out, nearing the very end of her list. James looked at the boy with interest, knowing that this boy was definitely Oliver Wood's nephew. He was tall and skinny, dark brown hair flopping into sparkling blue eyes. His grin - James thought, inwardly shuddering in apprehension - reminded him of Fred and George Weasley. It took a long time to Sort him and the boy was scowling slightly, as if arguing silently, for or against which house James was unable to tell. At last, it called out:

"SLYTHERIN!"

Minerva gasped loudly. Most of the other staff looked surprised, Dumbledore even raised an eyebrow slightly in question. Severus, however, looked unaccountably smug and raised his goblet slightly to the boy. Simon grinned, saluted him and went to join the other new Slytherins. He was not nearly as upset as James would have expected him to be, considering that Oliver had been a Gryffindor; he actually seemed delighted with the placing.

"Welcome!" Albus said, beaming at them. The first-years in particular were listening with rapt attention, hanging on his every word. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our excellent feast, I have just a few start-of-term notices to give to you. First-years should note that the Forest in the grounds, the Forbidden Forest, is completely off limits to all students, as the name suggests. A few of our older students would do well to remember that, as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Gryffindor table, at whom James couldn't guess.

"I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. He has also asked me to inform you that a list of all forbidden items can be found posted on the door of his office. I have it on reliable authority that all of the products sold by Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes are strictly forbidden and possession will be punished severely. As usual, Madam Hooch will be selecting our Quidditch team for The Harry Potter Festival during the next few weeks. I wish all the best of luck to any promising players from each of the four houses. Remember that we have a tradition of victory to uphold: we have never yet lost a match to the veteran team. House Quidditch will begin immediately after The Harry Potter Festival, and I look to our Quidditch Captains to arrange that. Finally, I would like you all to welcome Professor J Evans, who will be taking on the Defence Against the Dark Arts position, hopefully for many years to come. He has also taken up the post of Assistant Head of Slytherin, and his office will be located next door to Professor Snape's, should you need him at any time. And now, before we eat, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore.

Harry made himself smile with false enthusiasm; it looked like most of the other teachers were doing the same.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snake-like, into words.

"Everyone pick their favourite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald,

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot."

The noise, as always, was awful. Of course, everyone finished the song at different times and James thanked the gods that no one had chosen a funeral march this time. When the last few stopped, everyone cheered. Dumbledore flicked his wand again and the feast appeared. Chatter broke out as the students turned to their food. James tucked in; he couldn't get enough of Hogwarts cooking after living off his own for a few years.

A/N: there, enjoyed it? review!