As it happened Harry didn't have to spend too much time patrolling the train, as it puttered into Hogsmeade Station hours earlier than usual at about half past twelve – a total transit time of roughly three quarters of an hour, if Harry had done the maths right, which would have been impressive if the train didn't run on magic.
He and Daphne fought against the swarming mass of students fighting to leave the train to get back to their initial compartment to retrieve their things.
"That was fast," observed Blaise once they'd managed to get out into the corridor. "No one likes being sat on the train for hours, but I'd just settled in and then—we're there, just like that."
"I know!" said Tracey. "And think about all those first years—and the other new people—who don't even have the time to make friends or get sweets or anything like that! It just doesn't feel like the start of the year, does it?"
Millicent shrugged.
"It's not so bad. Train's just dead time, isn't it? We're here now. I wonder if they've put on lunch, or if we'll have the feast early, or—" She paused and grabbed a first year attempting to jump the queue by the back of his robes. "—Oi! No jumping the queue. Go wait like everyone else."
"I just wanted—"
"Don't care," said Millicent. "You can stay behind us if that lot lets you, but you aren't getting ahead of us. We've all got to wait, so don't be a shit about it."
"But—"
"I don't care," said Millicent. "Go on. And look—we've got two prefects here, so don't give backchat."
The boy slipped away but didn't get to remain behind their group, as those students behind them who'd let him push past reconsidered their generosity.
"Oh, Millie, you shouldn't use us like that!" chastised Daphne. "It makes us look bad if he tells anyone!"
"He won't say anything," said Millicent, waving a hand. "Anyway, the queue's moving now, so let's go." She picked up her trunk and her cat's carry case and ploughed through with the slow-moving mass of trainee wizards and witches.
Daphne huffed but followed along after her.
"Married life is tough, eh?" said Blaise, smiling. "Best get going."
Almost like a plug had been pulled students flooded from the train and out onto the platform where thestral-drawn carriages waited a short distance away. Hagrid the Groundskeeper called out and attempted to corral the new students.
"Firs' years—ah, and anyone new, really—don' matter if yer not a firs' year—come wi' me! This way, this way. There's a lot of yeh this year and we ain't got all day!" he shouted. Once the crowd split in two – more or less – the wait for the carriages was as normal. The girls took one as a three, but Harry and Blaise found Ernie and Justin and took a carriage as four.
Something for which Harry was inordinately glad, as he didn't want to risk having to sit with complete randoms or, which would be even worse, Draco or Theodore.
"Zabini," said Justin to Blaise.
"Finch-Fletchley."
Blaise and Justin rarely interacted, but Harry didn't think it was due to any sort of prejudice on either's part – more just a lack of opportunity. Still, their lack of familiarity was perhaps something that needed fixing.
At some point, since Harry already had a mountain of tasks to complete and next to no time to complete them.
"Can you imagine the size of the fleet of boats they're going to need this year?" said Ernie. "I don't envy Hagrid with all that, let me tell you."
"This year's going to be a logistical nightmare," said Blaise. "You couldn't pay me enough to oversee it."
Harry privately knew there were a great many things Blaise wouldn't be paid to do, nearly all of which had to do with the massive pile of gold he had sat under London rather than their difficulty, but he agreed with the sentiment. Literally ferrying a horde of first years and new upper years across the massive Hogwarts lake was not a task Harry ever wanted to have to do.
"Good luck prefecting all this shit," Blaise continued. "And with OWLs this year, too. And with you having picked Triple As, as well."
"Ugh, don't remind me," Harry said. Technically, Harry hadn't picked the dreaded 'Triple As' – Alchemy, Ancient Runes, and Arithmancy, the combination of the three hardest subjects offered at Hogwarts – himself. Snape had forced him into it, decided that Alchemy and Arithmancy weren't enough of a challenge. "Snape made me do it, so I don't think I can even drop one."
"Rough luck," said Ernie. "Honestly, I'm just glad they aren't offering floramancy as an official course, or my mum would've made me take it. She's been on about me learning for years. I've always put it off but with her at Hogwarts…"
"Floramancy?" asked Blaise. "Since when has anyone taught floramancy at Hogwarts?"
"His mum's a teacher this year," supplied Harry. "For Charms, I think, but for the Wandwright's lot to keep doing their art stuff as well, I suppose."
"Ah," said Blaise. "God, it would be awful if my mum started teaching here..."
"Tell me about it," muttered Ernie. "But Harry's right—Mum's here for Charms and to keep the Wandwright's lot up to date with their floramancy."
Harry, though, wondered what exactly Livia Zabini would be able to teach. Blaise spoke often of his mother, but always in vague statements, little references, all superficial really. Nowhere near enough detail for Harry to put any sort of concrete idea about her together. She'd seemed nice enough in the letters Harry had received from her at Christmas and Easter, but there were those rumours that never went away...
The carriages traversed the Hogsmeade Road towards the castle in an endless procession, the thestrals pulling each one along gently and at a steady pace. The four boys kept up a decent enough conversation as the carriages made it past the outer wall and the gardens.
It's nice to be back at Hogwarts, Harry thought as the thestrals pulled their carriage through the expertly kept lawns and gardens in front of the castle.
Soon enough the carriages pulled up outside the castle and the students flooded inside only to find that the Great Hall – already the largest single room in the castle – had been expanded to truly gargantuan proportions. Rather than serve as the central dining hall of a school for wizarding children, it now seemed fit to house giants instead. The four House tables remained where they ever were, but each one was at least twice as long as Harry had ever seen them. So, too, was there much more ornamentation. The usual tapestries and banners graced the walls, but in far greater numbers. Much of the decoration from the Triwizard Tournament had been left out, including the spectacular Hogwarts banner and coat of arms.
Ernie and Justin joined the other Hufflepuffs at their own table, and Harry and Blaise went to sit at the Slytherin table.
Before Harry could sit down, however, he was accosted by Shafiq, who told him he had to sit near the end of the table to deal with first years and other new students. But before Harry could do that, Shafiq gave him the rundown of his post-feast duties.
"See you after the feast then, I suppose," Harry said to Blaise as they parted. Whenever the feast actually was, as the Express had never arrived quite so early in the day before.
Will there be lunch first? Harry wondered as he took a place at the end of the table closest to the Sorting Hat opposite Daphne. Being so close to the High Table wasn't how he would have chosen to spend his first night back at school, but that was the prefect's lot, Harry supposed.
At least Draco and Pansy had been relegated to the very end, where the new first years would sit. That meant Harry could at least deal with older students, possibly even the new third years who would become his classmates.
The High Table, too, spanned the width of the Hall, more than two dozen new chairs added to it. A diverse array of teachers Harry had never seen before, including Gilderoy Lockhart in flamboyant purple robes sat next to a decidedly unimpressed Professor Flitwick, occupied the expansive High Table.
Harry and Daphne weren't the only prefects sat at the far end of the table, but the others were spaced along in such a way that there were large gaps between them – especially so, given the elongated tables – and it felt rather lonely all the way at the end.
Although lonely is better than sat next to Draco and Pansy, Harry thought.
"I didn't realise how many new students there would be this year," Daphne said from across the table. "Everyone's been talking about it since the announcement of the High Inquisition but I didn't really... well, it's one thing to hear about and another thing to see the tables all like this, isn't it?"
Harry nodded. The Hall felt colossal, more like a cathedral than the place he'd eaten his breakfasts, lunches, and dinners in for years, and the tables seemed empty, each one only half full. It looked as if only half of the students were sat there, which Harry supposed was probably the case.
"It's mad," Harry said. He took in the huge tables, the empty, cavernous Hall, and glanced up at the High table once more—
"Hang on. I just noticed Umbridge sat there, next to Dumbledore," Harry said. Not a face he'd expected to see, and certainly not one he'd wanted to see ever again let alone at Hogwarts.
Daphne nodded.
"Yes, she's the High Inquisitor. There was a bit of a fuss over the appointment, Daddy said, and I know you've had a run in with her already but—"
But whatever Daphne had to say, she didn't get to elaborate, as McGonagall strode through from the Entrance Hall at the head of a veritable horde of first years.
And second, third, fourth, and fifth years, Harry thought to himself. The entire collection of students from every other school in Britain and Ireland, as well as all the incoming first years, and a few stragglers from Durmstrang, Beauxbatons, and elsewhere, shuffled along behind McGonagall.
Many of them – the older students especially – looked unhappy to be there.
"We'll be here all day," Harry said quietly. "And all night. This is insane…"
Harry reckoned there had to be around a thousand students stood waiting to be Sorted with McGonagall. If each one took a minute to be Sorted it would take more than sixteen hours to get through everyone. While some students didn't take nearly that long, Harry knew that others took five minutes or more. Either the Hat would hurry things up this year, or they'd be at it until well after midnight…
And to top it all off, Umbridge presided over the Sorting with her saccharine smile and obnoxious pink robes. Harry would have to sit with that as his view for potentially sixteen hours.
Dumbledore coughed. The magically-enhanced sound rang out across the Great Hall, and gradually, the students quietened. He stood.
"It should not escape notice that we have a rather large intake of new students this year," Dumbledore said. "To our new students I shall say: welcome and know that we have done our very best to accommodate you. To our returning students: please, spare a thought for your new colleagues and Housemates and remember how it feels to stand there before the Sorting Hat and the gathered school."
Dumbledore paused for a few moments, then continued.
"Ancient Hogwarts bylaws require that the Sorting Ceremony be held prior to the Welcome Feast. Due to the Ministry's recent Educational Decrees—specifically, that which requires all school-aged wizards and witches in Britain and Ireland to attend Hogwarts—we have more students than we have ever had to Sort at any one time. This is, I am told by the office of the High Inquisitor, a most necessary departure from the more liberal educational approach we have followed as a people for centuries. Alas, the Hogwarts bylaws are quite specific on the matter, and so we must all wait to fill our bellies until the Sorting is complete. I would only ask that you reserve enough enthusiasm and gusto to properly receive all new members of your Houses and indeed, the school community, as you would any other year. Let us begin."
The Hat opened its brim and sang out a rather short, obviously truncated, song about unity and fraternity, although Harry thought most of the message had been lost because of everything that had been cut from it. With the traditional Sorting Hat song over, McGonagall stepped forward.
McGonagall called out the first of the names, starting with the new fifth year students. Or so Harry assumed, as the first student up – Aldford, Katherine – looked much older than any first year. Katherine Aldford sat on the stool under the Hat and, after a few moments and went right to Ravenclaw. The Hall broke out into its usual claps and cheers, but McGonagall cut it short by calling forth the next student on her list, another fifth year.
The first of the new fifth years to go to Slytherin – ap something-or-other that McGonagall had had trouble saying, Ifan – tried sitting himself down next to Harry.
"You're supposed to fill in further up," Harry said as the new student tried to sit down. "Sorry—it's just what we were told." Shafiq had told him older students sat further along the table, although apparently no one had told the older students that. "But welcome to Slytherin—good to have you!"
The new Slytherin shuffled along the bench and joined the rest of the House half-way along the table. The Sorting continued. Slytherin received a good number of new students, all of whom went to sit towards the middle of the table, and after about as long as the Sorting usually took, McGonagall had run out of fifth years to Sort.
Unfortunately, Harry realised, there were still four cohorts left. Including the largest ever first-year intake Hogwarts had seen in its millennium teaching young wizards and witches. He glanced up at the ceiling and saw the sun had crept higher into the sky.
But it was still hours away from darkness. They would have to sit through the equivalent of four more Sorting Ceremonies before they were done and could finally eat. More than that, probably, given the number of first years waiting to be Sorted. At least the Hat seemed to be getting through each one faster than normal – out of curiosity, Harry timed the next few Sortings using the second hand on his wristwatch. The longest Sorting lasted a mere thirty-two seconds.
But even that would result in an eight hour long Sorting Ceremony. Absurd.
Harry hadn't had breakfast because he was expecting to have lunch on the train. Now he wished he had.
McGonagall continued making her way through the list of new students, calling out names one after another, and butchering the pronunciation of more than a few if their owners' reactions were any indication.
Harry stopped paying attention midway through the new fourth years. He could only clap cheerfully so many times before it felt like a chore, and he ended up spending more time examining the new teachers and other members of staff than he did looking at the new students. There were a few interesting contrasts between the new teachers – sat next to Gilderoy Lockhart, resplendent in his finery and with hair many a witch would kill for was a shabby, almost ill-looking man with tired eyes; Binns floated next to a youthful witch in bright robes wearing some sort of exotic bird as a hat; Professor Dee smoked his pipe, blowing out clouds of swirling green smoke, next to a dour-looking and positively unimpressed man in non-descript brown robes; while Dumbledore sat impassive in his elegant, if flamboyant, robes next to Umbridge dressed all in pink, her hair topped with a little bow.
"Harry!" hissed Daphne from the other side of the table. "At least pretend to pay attention!"
Harry wrenched his gaze back to where a seemingly endless procession of students sat under the Sorting Hat. McGonagall had made it to the new third years by then, which did perk Harry up a bit, as they would be his new classmates.
There was nothing like a bit of selfish interest to reignite the dying embers of his enthusiasm, after all. A tiny little wizard – easily shorter than a number of the first years – stepped up to the Sorting Hat. Dragonsfoot, Thomas, Harry thought he'd heard McGonagall say. The Hat was enormous on him, covered his whole head and nearly his shoulders too. Eventually the Hat shouted 'Hufflepuff' and the little wizard scurried away to join the – still decidedly enthusiastic – Hufflepuff House at its table.
The next few students went to Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, but eventually Slytherin gained its first new third year in the form of 'FitzRoy, John'. John FitzRoy sailed right past Harry and took a seat on Daphne's side of the table to a chorus of applause. Slytherin gained another new member not too long after that in the form of a Welsh girl whose name McGonagall mangled several times before giving up and pointing. She sat down near to Harry, although still with a little gap.
The table was filling up nicely, but Harry did still hope he wouldn't be saddled with a bunch of second or first years as his dinner mates – one of the new third years would be a much more pleasant interaction. Slytherin got quite a few more after that, including a pair of twins – Honeysuckle, Aphasia, and Honeysuckle, Loquasia.
And so the Sorting dragged on.
By the end of the new third years Harry thought Slytherin had gained an additional seventeen third years, which was near enough double what they'd started with. At least they'd made it to Harry, and he had new classmates on either side of him.
He wouldn't have to deal with any of the second years, not unless they got too rowdy, anyway.
Let Draco and Pansy deal with the firsties, Harry thought. Perhaps it was a bad idea to let the most poisonous of the Slytherin third years have a crack at the first years, but then, it wasn't Harry's decision and he didn't feel strongly enough about it to kick up a fuss. He'd have enough to be getting on with by watching over the new third years.
McGonagall plodded on, and the day grew later, the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall shifting to match the sky outside as it gradually darkened. Harry found himself wishing the long benches at the House tables had backs to them, as it had been hours and they'd still only just crossed the half-way point.
But he daren't slouch or lean against the table, as that would court Daphne's ire, and he didn't feel up to dealing with that on the first night back. So instead Harry took a breath and straightened, and tried to focus on the new second years and their Sortings. He clapped and cheered a little whenever a new student came to Slytherin, but he'd long ago given up on trying to remember their names – there were simply far too many. Harry thought he'd even managed to forget some of his new year mates' names, and he'd actually tried to remember them.
The Sorting – as always – was a ceaseless procession of names and faces, but unlike other years, the sheer volume of students sitting under the Hat meant it was near enough impossible to pay attention. In some ways Harry felt like he was sat at a table in a different school, there were that many faces he didn't recognise.
Fortunately, after a brief look around the Hall at what everyone else was doing, Harry realised he wasn't the only one who was bored. Tracey and Blaise were writing messages to each other on a scrap of parchment, while Millicent was drawing little patterns in the air with her wand. All around the Hall students were paying little attention to the Sorting itself, some of them even going so far as to whisper to each other – although from what Harry could see prefects were stopping the most egregious offenders.
Even some of the teachers seemed less than enthusiastic about proceedings – Hagrid had fallen asleep, and one of the new teachers was reading a book, and not even Umbridge herself looked happy to be sat there. Only Dumbledore seemed in any way interested in watching the Sorting, and Harry assumed that was put on.
But still McGonagall continued, and the House tables filled with new students as the sun started to set in the sky and everyone grew ever hungrier. By the time the last of the new first years was Sorted – Yarrow, Harpsichord – Harry had gone long past hungry and was ready for bed.
But although the Sorting had finished, the Welcome Feast had yet to begin. They'd been at it for hours, and although each and every new student had been Sorted, no one had eaten. Once the clapping for Harpsichord Yarrow – a brand new Ravenclaw – died down, Dumbledore stood.
Harry heard groans throughout the Hall, although Dumbledore didn't react.
"We have come to the end of a truly historic Sorting Ceremony," Dumbledore said, "and now that we have welcomed our new friends and colleagues into our Houses, it is time for the Feast to begin. I will offer my congratulations to all our new students on behalf of Hogwarts School. There is much left to say, but it can wait until after the Feast, as I am sure we are all very hungry. So, enjoy."
Dumbledore sat back down, and as he hit his throne-like chair food appeared on the tables.
"Oh, thank God," Harry said, and let out a breath. Harry piled food onto his plate, choosing a bit of everything that looked palatable – and given the elves' skill and talent in producing food, that was all of it – keen to get started. He'd missed breakfast and lunch, and the Feast had started hours later than it usually did, and all Harry cared about was getting fed. As tired as he was Harry didn't think he'd have been able to wait until breakfast to eat, so despite the late hour, Harry tucked in.
"Ugh, boys are so rude sometimes," Daphne said from across the table. "Harry, introduce yourself! You're a prefect, remember?"
Oh, yeah, that, Harry thought. He slowed down and turned to the two new students in turn, one on either side of him. He swallowed.
"Er—hello," Harry said. "I'm Harry—er, Harry Potter. I'm one of the prefects for Slytherin. I don't remember your names, sorry—the Sorting was a bit, er, long this year."
"Capability Plumm," said the boy on Harry's right. He stuck out a hand, and Harry shook it after putting down his knife and fork. "Formerly of Wandwright's Institute."
"Llinos Gwenfor," said the tall, slim girl on Harry's right. Harry remembered her as one of the students whose names McGonagall hadn't been able to say – and for good reason, he thought, as her name had that funny Welsh sound at the start of it he'd never been able to say. "I used to go to Yr Ysgol—the school in Wales?" she said, although she formed the words slowly. Harry couldn't place her accent, although it was obviously Welsh. It didn't sound like Tracey's. She paused. "I don't speak English very often, so I'm sorry if..." she waved a hand.
"That's alright," Harry said. "Must be a bit of a nuisance having to come here this year, for the both of you," he said. He hated small talk. It was just so pointless...
"Oh, absolutely," said Plumm. "It's not that Hogwarts isn't a good school—it is. But the Plumms have always been Wandwright's wizards, you know, and the curriculum here is a bit, well, narrow. You don't even teach painting or sculpture!"
"Er, no, I suppose we don't," Harry said. "Is that what you did at Wandwright's, then?"
"That, and the rest!" said Plumm. "I'm just glad my portraiture instructor signed on here. OWLs are all well and good—we do them at Wandwright's too, of course—but no TITs in sight! It's a crime, really."
"Tits?" echoed Harry.
"Yes, you know—Trickily Intricate Technicals? I mean, I do have to pass the CATs first but I've got those covered..." said Plumm. Art school versions of the OWLs and NEWTs, then, Harry assumed.
"They wanted to give me a place at Hogwarts when I was younger," Gwenfor said, "and I nearly took it. It was just such a surprise to learn about magic! Then someone else came and said there was a school I could go where everyone spoke Welsh. So I went there instead, of course, because we only speak Welsh at home..."
Gwenfor was muggleborn, Harry realised. Until she'd joined the House, his year hadn't had a single muggleborn in it, although he did know some of the other years did. Just one in the year below, but some of the uppers had two. While it wasn't unheard of for a muggleborn to Sort into Slytherin, it didn't happen as often as in the other Houses and they sometimes had a difficult time of it.
There'll be none of that this year, Harry promised himself. He might only be a junior prefect, but he could cut that out from amongst his own year, and the years below... and he didn't think Farley would let it slide amongst the uppers, either.
"My friend—Tracey, she's down there somewhere," Harry said, gesturing up the table, "she speaks Welsh. Her mother works at the Welsh affairs office thingy at the Ministry. Her little brother wanted to go to that school as well, but... well, he had to come here, obviously. Must be rough having to switch languages and learn in English."
Harry eyed up another slice of roast pork and slipped it onto his plate.
Gwenfor nodded.
"Yes, all my friends have been talking about this. It doesn't seem fair. Most of the spells are the same because everyone uses the Latin spells because of the Romans. But the words we use to learn, those are all different. And this year we must take the OWL exams, and there is a version in Welsh, but if we are being taught in English this year..."
"I don't suppose any of your teachers signed on here, then?" Plumm asked.
Gwenfor nodded.
"Some of them did. Yr Ysgol sent letters to us in the summer to explain. But it will be harder than it needs to be."
Harry thought that was fair enough. He didn't speak any other languages – except Latin – but he didn't think he'd much like to be in Gwenfor's situation either. Suddenly having to switch to using a different language, and one he didn't especially want to use at that, seemed like an awful thing to have to do during the OWL year.
"At least you've got some of your old teachers, so it's not all new," Harry said. "What OWLs are you both doing?"
"Just the cores," Plumm said. "Charms, Potions, Transfiguration, Herbology. But I'm a bit worried they'll have me doing more now that I'm here."
"The same, but with Animals, History, and, ah... Serydd—the one about stars," said Gwenfor.
"Astronomy," supplied Harry. "No Defence?"
"It wasn't a separate subject at Wandwright's," Plumm said. "Is it at your Welsh school?"
Gwenfor shook her head.
"No, it was part of our other subjects—we learn about Dark charms in Charms lessons, Dark creatures in Animals, like that."
Plumm nodded.
"Although I suppose, given that Hogwarts does a whole class about it, we'll be dropped into it this year. It's a required subject here, isn't it?" he said.
"Er, yeah," Harry said.
"How's the curriculum?" asked Plumm.
That was a loaded question. 'Erratic and unpredictable' was perhaps the fairest way to describe it. 'Abysmal', if Harry was being honest, although Moody's lessons the previous year had been pretty good. Perhaps with Lockhart in charge of the department it would be better.
"We've had a lot of teachers, so it's, erm... well. But with Lockhart here this year it should be good—he's meant to be really experienced, isn't he? So hopefully..." Harry decided to say in the end. He shrugged. "The other subjects are all quite good, though."
"I am excited for the Animals lessons here," Gwenfor admitted. "The Forest reserve is meant to be very interesting—do you know if we go inside it at all?"
"I'm not sure, to be honest," Harry said. "I don't do Magizoology. Well, I did it last year, but I didn't choose it for the OWL..." He paused. "Daphne might know. Hang on!" Harry gestured across the table to Daphne, who was talking with her dinner companions. "Daph? Daph! Do you know if the Magizoology lot goes into the Forest at all for the OWL?"
"Sometimes, yes," Daphne said. "Always supervised by Mr Hagrid, of course. Why?"
"Er—well—Clino—Thlinos—um," floundered Harry. "Our new Housemates wanted to know."
"Well, we do sometimes," said Daphne. She returned to her conversation.
Harry glanced over at Gwenfor.
"Er, look, sorry—I don't know how to do that funny sound. Tracey's tried to show me but I've never..." he said.
Llinos smiled.
"English people always say that! But it's easy to do. Let me tell you,"She said. "Put your tongue behind your teeth, at the line—the bump—almost like you're going to say, 'luh'. Then instead, blow. Like this." She demonstrated.
That was all well and good, but Harry still didn't think he could actually say it without mangling the sound. He tried anyway.
"Th—Llinos?" he said. "Was that right?"
"Nearly!" said Llinos. "It's okay; you'll get there with some practise."
"Er, thanks," Harry said.
"Never had a head for languages myself," said Plumm. "Although I have always wished I could speak Greek. Beautiful language."
"They make us do bits of Latin here in first year," Harry said, "but that's about as much as I know of other languages. Well, and I can say that Welsh sound, now."
Tracey would be pleased, at least.
Llinos laughed.
Harry kept up a decent enough conversation with his two new Housemates over the rest of the Feast, and he didn't even need to intervene in an official capacity as a prefect in anything. In all, not the worst meal he'd had at Hogwarts. And neither Gwenfor nor Plumm so much as implied they knew anything about the trial over the summer, so that was very nice indeed. It felt like a normal meal with normal people.
A small wonder, given the circumstances.
After the dessert course had wrapped up – long past the time when everyone was usually on their way to bed – Dumbledore stood up again to make his announcements.
Harry hoped it wouldn't last too long. He doubted breakfast or the start of lessons would be any later no matter what time they all got off to bed, and he could feel the hours slipping away.
"And so we are, sat here contented, with full bellies and, I should hope, some new friends," Dumbledore said, "although perhaps a little later than we would have liked. I shall try to make my post-dinner announcements as brief as I possibly can. Firstly, I should like to introduce to you all the High Inquisition—Madam Umbridge, of course—"
"Hem, hem," coughed Umbridge. "It is High Inquisitor Umbridge, Headmaster Dumbledore."
"Ah, my mistake," said Dumbledore. "Our High Inquisitor, the person who will oversee the High Inquisition, under whose authority it undertakes its work over the course of this year, is High Inquisitor Dolores Umbridge, formerly Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. High Inquisitor Umbridge, as some of you may already know, is the architect of the High Inquisition and of the recent Educational Decrees passed by the Ministry, sponsored though they were by the Wizengamot. It is my sincerest wish that all staff and students co-operate fully with the High Inquisition as it attempts to carry out its work. Now, moving swiftly on—"
"Hem, hem," coughed Umbridge again.
"Yes, Dolores?"
"I had hoped to say a few words, Headmaster Dumbledore, to properly contextualise the High Inquisition and its role," she said, sickly sweet, obsequious. With how she'd behaved throughout Malfoy's trial Harry believed none of it. Her manner was wholly affected, not at all genuine. Behind that smile was a woman obsessed with power.
Spellman had said as much, and Dumbledore hadn't said otherwise.
"It is getting rather late, High Inquisitor, and I should think that the students would like to get to bed. Indeed, I still have rather a lot to get through before we can all be dismissed—perhaps your announcement could wait until afterwards?" said Dumbledore. "Or perhaps tomorrow morning?" He didn't let her respond. "Following the announcement of Educational Decree Numbers One and Two, we here at Hogwarts found ourselves having to accommodate more than twice our usual number of students. And so we have searched far and wide to expand our teaching and support staff. Each and every department here at Hogwarts School has been expanded, some considerably, and so I have many new teachers to introduce to you all. Some of you here will recognise the new members of staff as they have been sourced, wherever is possible, from the other fine institutions which find themselves bereft of students."
Dumbledore gestured to the greatly expanded Head Table.
"Firstly I shall introduce our newest department heads. Please join me in welcoming Professor Gilderoy Lockhart—whose reputation likely precedes him—as our new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor."
Lockhart stood up in his spot and bowed flamboyantly to each of the House tables. As he did so Dumbledore led a polite clap for Lockhart, then continued. "Next, I should like you all to welcome our new History of Magic Professor—and a dear, dear friend of mine—Professor Perenelle Flamel."
The young, pretty lady wearing an exotic bird for a hat stood up and waved to the students, then sat back down before the clapping started.
Perenelle Flamel, Harry thought. That must be Flamel's wife! He remembered reading about her during his Alchemy prep. She certainly didn't look more than six hundred years old. Dumbledore really had gone looking far and wide, then, if he'd come up with Perenelle Flamel.
Dumbledore continued through the list of new teachers, adjuncts, apprentices, and everyone else. Harry tried to listen, but after the first two announcements, nobody else really stood out. At least not until near the end of the list.
"...and we must also welcome Mr Nicolas Flamel, the newest addition to Hogwarts's Alchemy department. Mr Flamel is of course well-known in alchemical circles, and we hope that all of our Alchemy students will relish the opportunity to study under such a learned and experienced instructor, in addition to the expert teaching of our own Professor Dee."
The dour-looking man sat next to Dee stood briefly, inclined his head to the gathered students, and sat back down before any clapping.
"Lastly, I must ask that we all..."
Nicolas Flamel! Harry thought while Dumbledore went through the new additions to the Flying department. He hoped he'd get to have at least a couple of lessons from the man. Flamel was, after all, the best alchemist in the entire world, the only alchemist ever to have completed alchemy's Great Work. It was rare for Flamel to make any sort of public appearance, as he was usually swarmed by people wanting gold or Elixir of Life, so to receive any sort of instruction from him was worth more than all the gold in the world.
"And so, with all the necessary introductions made, I have one last announcement—Hogwarts will now be offering NEWTs in History of Magic, thanks in large part to the expansion of the department, but also to accommodate those students from our sister schools taking the NEWT. I would ask all students who wish to sign up for it to see their Heads of House directly after the Feast ends so that we may make the necessary adjustments to the timetables before tomorrow morning. As we are all no doubt longing for the sweet embrace of slumber, I shall—"
"Hem, hem," coughed Umbridge. "It is not quite time for bed, Headmaster Dumbledore. The High Inquisition has a few words which must be said."
Harry let out a groan. It had gone midnight, and with breakfast bright and early – and no doubt swathes of new prefect duties with it – he just wanted to go to bed. He certainly didn't want to listen to Umbridge drone on about her nonsense.
"Ah, of course. By all means, High Inquisitor, speak. I am sure our students will understand the necessity of the Inquisition," said Dumbledore, "and will forgive you the intrusion into their sleep." He sat down.
Umbridge frowned but recovered quickly enough to get up from her seat.
"The Ministry of Magic is concerned," Umbridge began. "The Wizengamot in its wisdom has voted to convene a High Inquisition to ascertain whether the children of Britain and Ireland have been receiving a quality education. Our aim here is simple: we wish to ensure each and every student has the best possible education at the best possible institution."
She smiled and cast her gaze about the Great Hall.
"It should be no surprise to anyone gathered here that the former model of education in this country was insufficient to meet the needs of our society. Instructors spread across a number of different schools; instruction received in foreign languages, free of any oversight; schools which focused more on artistry than on the fundamentals of wizardry; and schools run more like a personal fiefdom than the public service which they really are," said Umbridge. "The Ministry has seen dangerous creatures run amok; students attacking one another with Dark magic; and falling educational standards among our home-schooled students. I must say that this is simply unacceptable!" Umbridge paused for a few moments and then continued. "The Ministry of Magic is not satisfied with the frankly miserable state of things. We require more. We require better."
"As your High Inquisitor my purpose is to ensure that each and every student is safe, secure, and well-educated. The High Inquisition has been convened to assure the people of this great country that their children will grow into competent, well-trained, and productive members of society. To that end I, and my Inquisitors, will be monitoring lessons and providing feedback to all members of staff. We shall oversee extracurricular clubs and activities. We will, of course, be most interested in hearing the opinions of students on their teachers and their teaching. And we will do it because we care. Because the Ministry cares. Because we are here for you."
"Bullshit," said Harry. The words echoed throughout the Hall, and Harry cringed.
Fuck. Timed that wrong...
A few students laughed. Umbridge pretended not to notice.
"I shall have more announcements in the days to come," Umbridge said, "but for now, remember that I care. That the Ministry cares. You may go."
Immediately after Umbridge's dismissal a horde of student streamed from the Hall in search of their dormitories, although a large portion – all of the new students along with the prefects – remained. Although all the returning students had gone, Harry reckoned at least half of the school was still assembled in the Hall, unsure of what to do or where to go.
Which was where Harry was supposed to come in. Shafiq had explained, fortunately, what Harry needed to do.
"Er, right," said Harry towards the group of new students closest to him. There were roughly two hundred and fifty new Slytherins, but there had been prefects spaced throughout the table, so in theory they could all handle smaller groups.
In theory.
"If, er, if you just follow me—or any of the prefects really, but I'm closest—we can show you how to get to the Slytherin House Common Room," Harry said. He heard Daphne say much the same thing, along with all the other prefects in different parts of the Hall.
Harry gathered about thirty or so new students – mostly second and third years – to him and led them from the Great Hall.
"Our House is in the dungeons," he said. "So we just come out through here, and then down these steps—past the cellars, that's where Hufflepuff is, somewhere—and we keep going, like this." Harry remembered what Shafiq had said after his own Sorting. "The entrances to the Common Rooms are sort of a secret, so don't go telling your friends how to get in, or anything like that." He stood halfway down the stairs ushering his charges past, then followed up once he was sure they'd all followed.
This prefect lark is stressful, he thought. It was made all the more difficult because the Hufflepuffs had to manage the exact same situation, and there was a blockage at the stairs.
Harry nodded over at Ernie, who was attempting to corral an unruly set of first years, then returned to his own lot.
"We keep going this way," Harry said, nudging a second year girl in the right direction. "That's right, just keep going—I'll be right with you!"
Harry kept watch over where the new Slytherins were going until he reached the end of his batch – or what he thought was the end of his batch, at least – and then followed them.
"Why do we have to keep things secret?" asked one of the new students, a second year by the look of him. "At Wandwright's everyone knew everywhere."
"I—er—it's an old tradition," Harry said, momentarily flummoxed. "From when the castle was, you know, a fortress. And it's helpful for, er, House identity, and all that." He shrugged. "And the castle is weird—it tricks you, things don't always make sense... you know, sometimes a door will go to the wrong place, or you go up a staircase and end up two floors down. Best to just go with it."
"But how are we meant to find our way places?" complained a different student.
"It is tricky at first," Harry admitted, "but one of the prefects will be taking you to and from lessons for the first week... and you get used to it fast, I promise." Harry shrugged. "By Hallowe'en you'll barely be getting lost, and that's with the moving staircases!"
By then they'd got down into the dungeons proper, and Harry glanced ahead to see that there was a massive queue at the Common Room door. Shafiq stood at the entrance with a group of fifth years, with Farley a little further back with another group. The other prefects waited with groups of their own, and the new Slytherins trailed all the way back up the stairs to where Draco waited with the new first years.
"It's not usually like this," Harry said to his group. "Er, you know, there's just... well, there's a lot of us this year. But when we get to the door I'll show you where it is and how to get in—there's a password, see. It's a secret, so you're not supposed to share it with anyone outside of the House. It changes every so often."
"Who sets the passwords?" asked one girl.
"Prefects, usually," Harry said. "Sometimes Snape—Professor Snape, he's our Head of House, the Potions Master—sends a list over."
"How often do they change? Who decides when?" continued the girl.
"I—er—I'm not sure, to be honest," Harry said. He didn't think there was a set schedule for password changes anyway. Sometimes the password would remain the same for a whole month, and sometimes it would change once a week. He just wasn't sure why.
God, I don't remember us asking this many questions! He thought.
"It's just that I was wondering if there was a procedure, because at Beauxbatons, everything was much better organised. We had a proper orientation and... well, I don't want to be locked out of the Common Room because one of you decided we should have a new password at lunchtime," she continued.
"The password usually only changes once a week at most," Harry said thinking back on his prior years at the school. "Er, on a Monday. The new password is always on the noticeboard in the Common Room in the morning. So just, er, check it before you leave..." There had been some occasions when the password had changed twice, and mid-week, but that had been because everyone had been worried about Sirius getting in and running amok.
Harry didn't think that would happen this year.
"Hmm." The girl didn't sound at all pleased with Harry's answer.
"Any more questions?" Harry asked. He might as well check, as they were doing nothing but standing, waiting, for the others to enter the Common Room.
None were forthcoming. Some of the new Slytherins chatted amongst one another, but most seemed fed up, tired, and stood where they were. After what felt like an entire geological epoch Harry and his group made their way to the Common Room door where Shafiq waited still.
He thrust a sheaf of parchment into Harry's hands.
"Show the new third and second year boys to their dorms," Shafiq said. "It's all on the parchment. Oh, remember—tell them if they want to complain, do it to Professor Snape. If you don't they'll have you up all night," he added in an undertone. "Though it's not like there's much of it left to be fair."
Harry just nodded and brought his group through the Common Room door. It had seen so much traffic that the doorway hadn't even bothered to disappear.
"So, when you get to the doorway—it usually looks like a normal bit of wall, but you'll learn where it is—just say the password. Starting off the password this year is, um, 'Unity'. I don't know who picked it. But you just say the password to the wall and then this door appears, right? So... yeah. Here's the Common Room," Harry said. He gestured at the room idly, but then stopped to take another look when he realised it was different.
The décor was the same – dark woods, Slytherin green, with fireplaces and soft lighting to accentuate the lake-facing windows – but the space had been greatly expanded. It had been large to start with, with enough room for two to three hundred students, but it was easily double the size it had been before. The study annex was more of an entire suite and the central hub had four new fireplaces.
"You can do firecalls over there," Harry said with a gesture at the fireplaces. He'd never done one, as he had no one to call – except for Sirius – but he knew some of his Housemates used them near-religiously. "This is the study annex," he continued, "we do revision and homework and stuff there. It's not as good as the library's but it's a bit more convenient, you know."
He moved forward through the Common Room, keen to get his group away from the doors.
"The windows look into the lake, it's not bad, considering," Harry said. "You know, could have just been stone walls. Sometimes you see the merpeople. Or the squid. Er... I think that's it, to be honest. There's loads of space here—more than usually, actually, they've expanded the whole thing—so no need to worry about that. The noticeboards are over there," he said, waving a hand. "And... yeah. The dormitories are this way. Only the second and third year boys should come with me now, though. Sorry, I don't know who the girls have to follow and I'm not allowed down that corridor anyway. So, er, yeah—boys, follow me."
Harry turned and set off for the dormitories. With some luck he could be done and in his own dorm soon enough. He glanced down at the list. He didn't have the entire complement of second and third year boys with him, instead having about half the total number.
"Boys can't go that way," Harry said idly as they passed by the girls' corridor. "There's a spell on it so it bounces us back out."
"Can girls come down ours, then?" one boy asked.
"Er—yeah, actually," Harry said. "It's not fair, I know." He shrugged. "My parchment says... Oh, that's fucking bullshit," he muttered. Everyone's dormitory assignment had been changed, even for returning students. He was no longer quartered with Draco, Theodore, Blaise, and Vince; instead, he was with Plumm, that John Fitzroy bloke, and Charles Miller from Adder group – along with, fortunately, Blaise.
Theodore won't be pleased by that, Harry thought. The other boy tended not to do well with people he didn't know, and a sudden switch of his dorm-mates would be most unwelcome.
But Theodore's not your problem, Harry, Harry thought. Not unless...
"Right," Harry said, shaking himself out of pointless lines of thought. "Sorry. So, there's new assignments all 'round—was a bit shocked, that's all. Second years bear with me, because your dorms are right at the end. But third years, we're all up front."
He showed the new third years to their dormitories and then saw off the second-year boys before finally returning to his new dormitory with only a little trepidation.
After all, he knew Charles Miller already, and Blaise was one of his best friends. Really, the only properly new addition was John Fitzroy because Harry had already met Capability Plumm. Satisfied that he'd discharged all his prefectly duties properly, Harry ducked inside his new dormitory.
Thankfully, nobody was asleep just yet, so he didn't have to be the bloke who woke everyone up.
"Alright?" Harry said as he walked through the door. "It was mad out there—bit of a logjam."
"Logjam?" echoed John Fitzroy from where he sat at the end of his bed rifling through his trunk.
"It's a muggle expression, it means—er, doesn't matter," Harry said. He couldn't be bothered to explain the origins of the phrase to someone who had little understanding of the lumber industry. He headed right for the empty bed, which was next to Blaise's and, fortunately, nowhere near the door to the bathroom. "This is way too many new students at once. What was the Ministry thinking?" He started to dig through his trunk in search of his pyjamas.
"They weren't thinking, obviously," drawled Fitzroy. "Forcing people like me to come to Hogwarts is just stupid. And effectively shutting down all the other schools in the country... that's going to cause some problems with the Fringe." FitzRoy sighed. "There's already talk of independence from the Ministry and they've gone and enflamed things like that. Stupid. Not that it would matter to me, but..."
"I don't know about all that," said Plumm, "but I was happy where I was. No offence to you lads, but we had private rooms at Wandwright's..."
"You do get used to it," Charles Miller said. "My best mate was in my old dorm. It's a bit rough for all of us, though. Everyone's all mixed up."
"At least your friends are still at the same school as you," said Fitzroy. "Most of mine are in France."
"That's true," muttered Charles Miller.
Having nothing much to contribute to the conversation Harry took his pyjamas into the bathroom to get ready for bed. He was tired, felt like he could quite easily sleep for a whole day, and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep at the earliest possible time. He changed, cleaned his teeth, and returned to the dormitory where the conversation seemed to be dying down.
"We ready for bed, or what?" Harry said as he got into his own bed. "It's just, it's really late and we've got an early start tomorrow—I'm knackered. Reckon it's a good idea to go lights out, that's all."
"Is that a prefect's command or just Harry's?" asked Blaise.
"Just Harry's," Harry said. "And bugger off. I only took the post because I thought Draco—well. We saw how that one went. It's just late, that's all."
"We were only waiting for you anyway," declared John Fitzroy. "I was ready for bed hours ago, frankly."
Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes. He'd managed to get rid of Draco only for him to be replaced with someone identical – although hopefully without the added fuss of working for Voldemort.
"Nox!" Harry said, and the lights went out. Harry settled into bed and fell off to sleep right away, tired from his agonisingly long day.
