Breakfast next day was a feast in itself. We were awoken by the same tannoy system and I was lead by Stella to a table laden with food. Everything imaginable sat at the tables, toast and eggs, fat sausages, bacon, pancakes, my mouth was watering the moment I began to smell it from the staircase. It seemed that, unlike yesterday where everybody was cramped in year by year, the table setting was pretty free. Me, Stella and Pansy all found ourselves next to three giggling first years on the right and a third year showing off a confundus charm on the left. However, the room was somewhat subdued. The Sorting Hat, it seemed, had done something strange last night, other than talking, which I thought odd enough, it apparently added a new verse to an age-old song.

But this year I'll go further

Listen closely to my song:

Though condemned I am to split you

Still I worry that it's wrong,

Though I must fulfill my duty

And must quarter every year

Still I wonder whether Sorting

May not bring the end I fear.

Oh, know the perils, read the signs,

The warning history shows,

For our Hogwarts is in danger

From external, deadly foes

And we must unite inside her

Or we'll crumble from within

I have told you,

I have warned you...

Let the Sorting now begin.

This had been a controversial point of the evening. Even now, you could hear buzzes of it around the great hall. It seemed, that while the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were all frightened and disturbed by the message, the Slytherins were all excited by it. They all knew something that comforted them as the hat sang of perils. Something that made them smile in contempt and some of the older boys rub their arms. Malfoy, who by some awful luck was once again sat opposite us, was talking about it now as I was pulled back to reality.

"Hogwarts is in danger all right, I can't wait for the day I see that wretch Dumbledore beaten and the Dark Lord rise in his place. We'll be right by his side, won't we boys?" He turned to his companions, who nodded in vigorous approval. "As long as Potter doesn't screw it up," he added, shooting a look at a boy over on the Gryffindor table.

I looked over to find that mine was not the only head turned in his direction. It seemed that there were many other pupils who had turned to gossip about the infamous Harry Potter, who had apparently, after winning the Triwizard Tournament, had shown up with a dead competitor, Cedric Diggory, and had stuck to the claim that it was the Dark Lord who had killed him. Indeed, by the commotion still around it and the talk in the Slytherin common room it probably was true, but the newspapers had been speculating about who the real culprit was all summer.

Never mind about Potter," spat out Gregory Goyle, through a mouthful of just about everything on the table. "We'll get him soon enough." This was agreed through smiles all round.

The conversation was interrupted by the sudden sound of wings and the screeching of owls. "Post!" exclaimed Stella. Post? Surely she didn't mean letters and things did she? How could she possibly know whether or not a postman had arrived. However, I soon found that there would be no postman as the first owl swooped into the room, dropping a thick envelope onto the Gryffindor table. A flurry followed, multitudes of letters and parcels raining down into the laps of the recipients from the claws of owls. Amazing. I felt a slap in my lap, and to my excitement found a letter sitting there. I recognized the scrawl of my mother's handwriting on the front immediately, and looked up as if to thank the owl for delivering it to me, only to see that there were so many currently in the air, it was impossible to discern which one had dropped the letter on to me.

I opened it immediately to see that the envelope did not contain a letter, but a note on it and a copy of today's Daily Prophet and The Times. I read the note to find that my mother thought I should stay in touch with the outside world. It made me smile to know that she thought of my world as well as her own. Stella quickly snatched the Prophet from me, so I settled down with the Times, reading about the collapsing economy and feeling comfortable in my knowledge of something at least.

I was totally absorbed until I felt a nudge beside me as the bench croaked under the weight of yet another student. Blaise, ever handsome, smiled at me as my head snapped up. "Morning, Princess," he said, his eyes flicking down to the newspaper in my hands, "had a good sleep?"

"I woke up this morning to find out I hadn't been dreaming at all, it seems even a simple levitation charm can thrill me."

He smiled. "Unpacking were you?," he gave another look to my Times and cast a glance around the room. In a lower voice, he added; "I would put that away if I were you, not many people on this table are all that accepting of the muggle world."

I felt something like anger swell up inside me. Why would I, who had grown up as a muggle for the first fifteen years of my life, be sorted into a house where muggles are discriminated against? There was something horribly unfair about it all I thought, looking over at Draco Malfoy, a main culprit. He caught me looking though, and pulled a bemused face.

"Like what you see squib girl? I scarcely think that you have a chance with me, but you're welcome to look..." My cheeks flushed red as I quickly looked back down at my newspaper. That didn't help. "Oh, how quaint!" I heard again from the other side of the table, "She's reading the muggle news. Isn't it nice to see how involved she is with her own world." He spat the words 'own world' as if they were an insult, touching upon my own feelings about the wizarding world, and how it wasn't really mine. I could have sworn right then I would have stood up and punched him in the face, but as I made to do so a clock began to chime. Time for lessons.