CHAPTER 3
A New Face at the Staff Table
The chaos that might reasonably be expected to occur during a trip to King's Cross with the Weasley crowd was behind them and after a long day of traveling the Hogwarts students had finally arrived.
In the Gryffindor sixth-year boys' dormitory, Harry listened as Ron, Dean Thomas, Neville Longbottom, and Seamus Finnegan swapped stories about their summers. Harry noticed that Ron's account contained no mention of Hermione. Earlier that day on the train he'd watched the two of them with the eyes of one newly enlightened, but their manner toward each other had been the same as always--Hermione scornful of Ron's inept spell-casting, and Ron twitting her in turn about her bookishness. Harry wasn't sure what he'd expected, but it wasn't that everything would be the same as usual.
"Coming, Harry?" called Neville on his way out the door. Harry broke out of his brown study and noticed that everyone else had gone. "Dinner!" said Neville. "You know--food? Come on, we'll be late. I don't want to miss the Sorting."
"Right. Just coming." Harry looked around for his robe and spied it under Ron's bed. He grabbed it on the way out the door and stuffed his arms into the sleeves, clattering down the stairs in Neville's wake. They ducked out of the portrait-hole entrance to Gryffindor common room and raced along the corridor, catching up to their friends just in time to enter the Great Hall together. The ceiling, enchanted to look like the sky outside, was like black velvet studded with thousands of stars--for once, an arrival evening without rain.
As they seated themselves at the Gryffindor table, Harry looked up at the head table where the faculty sat. Hagrid caught his eye and winked, and Dumbledore smiled and nodded. Madam Pomfrey was engaged in conversation with Professor Sprout, and Snape, the sarcastic Potions master, had a pained expression on his face as the lovely, dark-haired young lady sitting next to him, with a jaunty feather in her hat, spoke earnestly to him. Harry wondered who she was and why Snape seemed to dislike her so much--other than the fact that disdain, or worse, was his usual response to all but a favored few.
Dumbledore rose and clapped his hands. "If I might have your attention, please," he said. The room quieted.
"The Sorting will begin in a moment," he continued. "But first I should like to make a few announcements. As you are aware, the captains of two of our house Quidditch teams--Marcus Flynt of Slytherin and Oliver Wood of Gryffindor--have graduated and departed these august halls for new endeavours." He cleared his throat. "I have made inquiries over the summer and am pleased to announce that a majority of the Slytherin and Gryffindor team members have indicated that they would be pleased to support the promotions of Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter as captains of their respective house teams."
This announcement was met with riotous cheering by all four houses. The rivalry between Harry and Malfoy was of long standing, and it seemed fitting that they should captain the two Quidditch teams who also shared the most intense ongoing competition.
Harry, however, was stunned. His teammates gave him thumbs-up and punched their fists in the air, elated. Ron thumped him on the back. "We'll finally be teammates, Harry. It's great!" Ron spoke cheerfully, but in truth he was rather anxious about his present status on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He had become the team's Keeper the previous year, and his record was less than exemplary; in fact, he'd defended the goals so poorly that the Slytherins had cheered him on as their ticket to a sure win. Over the summer Ron had coaxed Fred and George to give him as much practice as they could, and he actually was shaping up to be a fair Keeper. He was rather anxious about the outcome of the team's first practice and desperately hoped the team would give him a chance and not dismiss him out of hand.
Meanwhile, Malfoy basked in the recognition of his house and teammates. He took a moment to sneer in Harry's direction--acknowledgement of a sort, Harry supposed.
Dumbledore held up his hands for quiet once more.
"As I'm certain you have noticed, this year there is a new face at the staff table." Dumbledore indicated the young woman seated next to Snape. "Allow me to present Professor Trillium Lovejoy, your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," he announced. "Professor Lovejoy has worked for the Ministry of Magic as an Auror since her own departure from Hogwarts, but she has graciously consented to teach for us this year."
"Snape looks thrilled," Ron snickered. "Guess he missed out again, eh?" It was an open secret that Snape fervently desired the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor but had so far been unsuccessful in obtaining it.
Dumbledore spoke to Professor McGonagall, who stood at the entrance to the Great Hall. "You may bring them in now."
Professor McGonagall nodded and entered the hall briskly, scroll of parchment in her hand.
"This way," she said over her shoulder to the group of first-years trailing behind her. They proceeded to the front of the hall, where the Sorting Hat sat atop its stool on a low platform before the faculty table.
Professor McGonagall halted in front of the platform and turned to face the first-year students. The expressions on their faces ranged from excitement to terror to smug superiority. None looked bored.
"When I call your name," she said sternly, "you will come forward and I will place the Sorting Hat on your head. You will then be sorted into your Houses." She unfurled the parchment and began calling names. Each time the Sorting Hat made its pronouncement, one or other of the tables broke into cheers, welcoming their newest member.
Under cover of the ensuing bursts of applause, Harry stole a glance at Hermione. He noticed she was sitting close to Ron. Quite close. In fact, if he was not mistaken, Ron's leg was practically glued to Hermione's. Suddenly her leg abruptly moved away. Harry glanced up to find Hermione looking at him defiantly, cheeks pink, chin poked out stiffly. He grinned. Ron, belatedly aware that something was going on, slewed round to see what Hermione was looking at and caught Harry's gleeful expression, whereupon he too reddened and immediately found something fascinating to look at on his plate. Which was interesting, when you thought about it, seeing as the food had not yet appeared.
"Oo-er," said Seamus appreciatively. He sat across from Harry and gazed at Professor Lovejoy with slack-jawed admiration. "Defense Against the Dark Arts just became my favorite class," he declared.
Harry chuckled. "Yeah. Too bad we can't say the same about Potions." He glanced over to where Snape appeared to be fending off an animated Professor Lovejoy. As Harry watched, she pressed Snape's hand while making an especially earnest point. Snape gazed at her hand with an expression of revulsion, which remained even after she, oblivious to his dismay, removed it.
"D'you think she fancies him?" Ron asked, having at last started paying attention to the goings-on around him. The Sorting finished, dinner had appeared on the tables, so, unable to wait any longer, he had been busily occupied in making selections for his plate.
Harry was appalled. "What--Snape? You must be joking." As the others made similar comments, Harry added under his breath so only Ron could hear, "Not everyone has love on the brain, you know." Ron started and looked at Harry guiltily.
"Wh-what do you mean?" he hedged, knowing denial was probably futile.
Harry waggled his eyebrows comically. "Let's just say when you and Hermione were having a...moment...by the creek yesterday, you weren't as alone as you thought you were."
"Oh." Ron's face closely resembled a radish now. "I see. Er--well--so now you know, I guess." He glanced at Hermione. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked apologetically.
"Mind? Why would I mind?" Harry asked. "I think it's great. I had a feeling the two of you would end up together someday, you know."
Ron stared. "Really? Wow. Not me. She used to drive me crazy. And then--suddenly she just didn't." He shrugged. "I dunno how it happened, Harry. One minute we were arguing--I don't even remember what about--and the next minute it was like we'd both been hit over the head. She's bloody marvelous, Hermione is. Can't think why it took me so long to see it."
"Well," added Neville, who had just caught the last part of the conversation, "think how perfect it'll be--her with Muggle parents, and your dad who can't get enough of Muggles. They'll never run out of things to talk about at family gatherings!"
Ron looked a bit taken aback at this long view of things. "I say," he began, "that may be looking just a bit far ahead, don't you think?" He looked at Harry for support. "I mean, we've only just gotten…" He broke off in confusion as he noticed that several more pairs of ears had tuned in to the conversation.
Hermione's, however, were not among them. So when she turned just then to say something to Ron, she was faced with several hastily assumed, too-innocent looks.
"What?" she asked, narrowing her eyes, unpleasantly suspicious that she must be the butt of a joke she'd missed.
"Nothing," Ron said hastily. "Well, it's just…actually, they, er…they know."
"They know?" Hermione repeated. "Know what?" Ron gulped and tried on a sickly attempt at a smile.
Ginny took pity on him and whispered in Hermione's ear.
"Oh!" she said, as understanding dawned. A small smile played about her lips. "Oh." The smile got bigger. "Well, yes, I--"
Once more Dumbledore spoke over the babble of voices. "If I might?" he interrupted. "Sixth-year students will please remain in the Great Hall tomorrow morning after breakfast for discussion of your NEWT preparation with your faculty advisors. That is everything, I think. I'm pleased to have you all here. Have a pleasant evening."
The students departed the Great Hall in small groups, gossiping and speculating about the classes they had this term.
The Gryffindor common room buzzed with talk of Quidditch. When Harry entered with Ron and Hermione, a cheer went up.
"Let's hear it for our new captain!" yelled Katie Bell. "Harry, congratulations! What will you do about tryouts?" she asked.
"Tryouts? Er, I hadn't really thought about it," Harry replied.
"Well, you'd better. We've got four vacant positions on our team this year: Keeper, both Beaters, and a Chaser." She named the positions formerly held by Ron, Fred and George Weasley, and Angelina Johnson.
Ron cleared his throat hesitantly. "I was, er, rather hoping I could stay on in the Keeper's position this year," he said hopefully. The others, remembering what a disaster he had been on the pitch the previous year, exchanged dismayed looks. Harry, torn between his loyalty to Ron and his desire to have a top-notch Quidditch team, spoke up.
"I say we give Ron a chance. At least let him try out. He's put in some pretty intense training with Fred and George this summer. Let's see what he can do before we make any decisions."
Ginny spoke up. "I think that's fair," she said. "As for me--Harry, it was fun being Seeker last year, but I only did it because Umbridge wouldn't let you play. To tell you the truth, I'd rather try out for Chaser. So I hope you're planning to take over as Seeker again." The rest of the common room appeared to feel the same way; there were scattered calls of "Attaboy, Harry" and "Come on, Harry, we need you." Harry stood.
"Thanks, everyone," he said. "If you're sure you want me, I'd be honored to continue as Seeker. Now, about tryouts. How about Saturday morning at ten? I'll check with Madam Hooch and make sure we can get the pitch then. If anybody's interested in trying out, this is your chance."
Colin Creevey whispered something to Harry, who nodded.
"Colin's just brought up something I think we should consider," said Harry. "It's not traditional for first-years to be on house Quidditch teams--" disappointed groans-- "but I don't think there's any actual rule against it, either." Cheers and whistles from the first-years. "So I propose that tryouts should include any interested first-years as well."
"Thank you, Harry," Colin said quietly under cover of the renewed buzzing at this unheard-of turn of events.
"Sure, Colin. Is your sister interested in Quidditch or something?" Harry asked. Colin's younger sister, Nancy, was a first-year in Gryffindor.
"No," Colin said. "I just thought it might be time for a change, and I knew if anyone would go for a new way of doing things it'd be you, Harry." Colin had been something of a hero-worshipper with Harry since he began at Hogwarts in Harry's second year. Apparently he was still one of Harry's biggest fans.
People began drifting off to bed then, until finally the common room was deserted except for Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Harry pried himself out of his armchair and laughed as he surveyed the decorous distance Ron and Hermione had put between them, one on either side of the fire.
"Well, I'm off to bed," he said with a huge yawn. "You coming, Ron?" He deliberately dragged out his departure, fussing with the chair cushions, poking at the fire with the tongs, and finally draping his arms over the back of Hermione's chair.
"Sure. Er--in a minute," Ron began, then noticed the twinkle in Harry's eye. "Shove off, Harry. I'll be along soon."
"All right." Harry relented and started up the stairs to the gallery door. "Nighty-night, you two," he said, and sketched a low bow. Ron threw a cushion at him and Harry dodged it, laughing, as the door closed behind him.
Ron stood also and stuffed his hands in his pockets.
"Well, I guess that's it for today," he said nervously. "Time to turn in, then, eh?" He took a step in Hermione's direction and then hovered uncertainly.
Hermione stretched. "Night, Ron," she said sweetly. She marched over to him and planted a smacking kiss right on his mouth. While he was recovering from his surprise--and, it must be said, from his disappointed hopes for a more extended romantic ending to the evening--Hermione ran lightly up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. With a last laughing glance and a wave, she was gone.
Ron shook his head, sighed heavily, and trudged up to bed.