Chapter Eleven: The Sorting Hat's New Song
"Did everyone see that Grubbly-Plank woman?" asked Ginny after they settled in the coach. "What's she doing back here? Hagrid can't have left, can he?"
"I'll be quite glad if he has," said Luna. "He isn't a very good teacher, is he?"
"Yes, he is!" Harry, Ron, and Ginny angrily said.
Hermione hadn't been as quick as her friends. While she loved Hagrid dearly, he wasn't her favourite professor by any means. Harry glared at her, expecting her to say something on Hagrid's behalf.
"Erm, yes. He's very good," she added quickly.
"Well, we in Ravenclaw think he's a bit of a joke," said Luna, unfazed.
"You've got a rubbish sense of humour then," Ron snapped as the wheels below them creaked into motion. Luna did not seem perturbed by Ron's rudeness; on the contrary, she simply watched him for a while as though he were a mildly interesting television programme.
Rattling and swaying, the carriages moved in convoy up the road. They passed between the tall stone pillars topped with winged boars on either side of the gates to the school grounds. Hogwarts Castle loomed ever closer: a towering mass of turrets, jet black against the dark sky, here and there a window blazing fiery bright above them. Thoughts of Hagrid and Malfoy disappeared at the sight.
The carriages jingled to a halt near the stone steps leading up to the oak front doors. The Entrance Hall was ablaze with torches and echoing with footsteps as the students crossed the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right, leading to the Great Hall and the start-of-term feast. Hermione kept an eye on the queue of students to make sure everyone was on the up and up. Thankfully, none of the students were in the mood to cause trouble that night, and Hermione could stay in step with her friends.
The four long house tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the starless black ceiling, just like the sky they could glimpse through the high windows. Candles floated in midair all along the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts dotted about the Hall and the faces of the students talking eagerly, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other houses, and eyeing one another's new haircuts and robes.
Luna drifted away from them at the Ravenclaw table. The moment they reached Gryffindor's, Ginny was hailed by some fellow fourth-years and left to sit with them; Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Neville found seats together about halfway down the table between Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor house ghost, and Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, much to Hermione's chagrin.
"He's not there," Harry said. It took a second for Hermione to realise who he was talking about. She scanned the staff table, but Hagrid wasn't there. Hermione didn't have a good feeling about his absence.
"He can't have left," said Ron, sounding slightly anxious.
"Of course, he hasn't," said Harry firmly.
"You don't think he's hurt or anything, do you?" said Hermione uneasily.
"No," said Harry at once.
"But where is he, then?"
There was a pause, and then Harry said very quietly so Neville, Parvati, and Lavender could not hear. "Maybe he's not back yet. You know – from his mission – the thing he was doing over the summer for Dumbledore."
"Yeah... yeah, that'll be it," said Ron, sounding reassured, but Hermione bit her lip, looking up and down the staff table as though hoping for some conclusive explanation of Hagrid's absence. It was then she noticed a flash of pink amid the dark robes of the professors.
"Who's that?" she said sharply, pointing towards the middle of the staff table where a squat witch with mouse-brown hair and a bright pink cardigan over her robes sat next to Professor Dumbledore.
"It's that Umbridge woman!" Harry gasped.
"Who?" said Hermione.
"She was at my hearing. She works for Fudge!"
"Nice cardigan," said Ron, smirking, but Hermione knew at once the cardigan was the least of their problems.
"She works for Fudge!" Hermione repeated, frowning. "What on earth's she doing here, then?"
"Dunno…"
Hermione scanned the staff table, her eyes narrowed.
"No," she muttered. "No, surely not…" But it surely was. All of the professors from last year were accounted for at the table (except for Grubbly-Plank, who was still making her way to the table, late from accompanying the first-years across the lake, and Professor McGonagall, who was currently leading a long line of scared-looking first-years), which meant the ministry official was the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
The Ministry would be in charge of preparing them for a fight with a wizard they refused to believe was alive.
Professor McGonagall and the first-years were ready to start the sorting ceremony, distracting Hermione from her worries for a moment. The buzz of talk in the Great Hall faded away. The first-years lined up in front of the staff table facing the rest of the students, and Professor McGonagall placed the stool carefully in front of them and then stood back.
The first-years' faces glowed palely in the candlelight. They looked so small and scared. It was hard to believe Hermione had once been that young.
The whole school waited with bated breath. Then the rip near the hat's brim opened wide like a mouth, and the Sorting Hat burst into song:
In times of old, when I was new
And Hogwarts barely started
The founders of our noble school
Thought never to be parted:
United by a common goal,
They had the selfsame yearning,
To make the world's best magic school
And pass along their learning.
'Together, we will build and teach!'
The four good friends decided
And never did they dream that they
Might some day be divided,
For were there such friends anywhere
As Slytherin and Gryffindor?
Unless it was the second pair
Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?
So, how could it have gone so wrong?
How could such friendships fail?
Why, I was there, and so can tell
The whole sad, sorry tale.
Said Slytherin, 'We'll teach just those
Whose ancestry is purest.'
Said Ravenclaw, 'We'll teach those whose
Intelligence is surest.'
Said Gryffindor, 'We'll teach all those
With brave deeds to their name,'
Said Hufflepuff, 'I'll teach the lot,
And treat them just the same.'
These differences caused little strife
When first they came to light,
For each of the four founders had
A house in which they might
Take only those they wanted, so,
For instance, Slytherin
Took only pure-blood wizards
Of great cunning, just like him,
And only those of sharpest mind
Were taught by Ravenclaw
While the bravest and the boldest
Went to daring Gryffindor.
Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest,
And taught them all she knew,
Thus, the houses and their founders
Retained friendships firm and true.
So Hogwarts worked in harmony
For several happy years,
But then discord crept among us
Feeding on our faults and fears.
The houses that, like pillars four,
Had once held up our school,
Now turned upon each other and,
Divided, sought to rule.
And for a while it seemed the school
Must meet an early end,
What with duelling and with fighting
And the clash of friend on friend
And at last, there came a morning
When old Slytherin departed
And though the fighting then died out
He left us quite downhearted.
And never since the founders four
Were whittled down to three
Have the houses been united
As they once were meant to be.
And now the Sorting Hat is here
And you all know the score:
I sort you into houses
Because that is what I'm for,
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 fulfil 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.
The Hat became motionless once more. Applause broke out, though it was punctuated with muttering and whispers. All across the Great Hall, students exchanged remarks with their neighbours.
"Branched out a bit this year, hasn't it?" said Ron, his eyebrows raised.
"Too right it has," said Harry.
"I wonder if it's ever given warnings before?" said Hermione, sounding slightly anxious.
"Yes, indeed," said Nearly Headless Nick knowledgeably, leaning across Neville towards her (Neville winced; it was very uncomfortable to have a ghost lean through you). "The Hat feels itself honour-bound to give the school due warning whenever it feels-"
But Professor McGonagall was waiting to read out the list of first-years' names and was giving the whispering students the sort of look that scorches. Nearly Headless Nick placed a see-through finger to his lips and sat primly upright again as the muttering came to an abrupt end. With a last frowning look that swept the four house tables, Professor McGonagall lowered her eyes to her long piece of parchment and called out the first name.
"Abercrombie, Euan."
The terrified-looking boy tumbled forward and put the Hat on his head; it was only prevented from falling right down to his shoulders by his very prominent ears. The Hat considered for a moment, then the rip near the brim opened again and shouted:
"Gryffindor!"
Slowly, the long line of first-years thinned. In the pauses between the names and the Sorting Hat's decisions, Hermione could hear Ron's stomach rumbling loudly. Finally, 'Zeller, Rose' was Sorted into Hufflepuff, and Professor McGonagall picked up the Hat and stool and marched them away as Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet.
"To our newcomers," said Dumbledore in a ringing voice, his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his lips, "welcome! To our old hands – welcome back! There is a time for speech-making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"
There was an appreciative laugh and an outbreak of applause as Dumbledore sat down neatly and threw his long beard over his shoulder to keep it out of the way of his plate – for food had appeared out of nowhere so that the five long tables were groaning under joints and pies and dishes of vegetables, bread and sauces and flagons of pumpkin juice.
"Excellent," said Ron, with a groan of longing, and he seized the nearest plate of chops and began piling them onto his plate, watched wistfully by Nearly Headless Nick.
"What were you saying before the Sorting?" Hermione asked the ghost. "About the Hat giving warnings?"
"Oh, yes," said Nick, who seemed glad of a reason to turn away from Ron, who was now eating roast potatoes with almost indecent enthusiasm. "Yes, I have heard the Hat give several warnings before, always at times when it detects periods of great danger for the school. And always, of course, its advice is the same: stand together, be strong from within."
"Ow kunnit nofe skusin danger ifzat?" said Ron.
"I beg your pardon?" said Nearly Headless Nick politely, while Hermione looked revolted. Ron gave an enormous swallow and said, "How can it know if the school's in danger if it's a Hat?"
"I have no idea," said Nearly Headless Nick. "Of course, it lives in Dumbledore's office, so I daresay it picks things up there."
"And it wants all the houses to be friends?" said Harry, looking over at the Slytherin table. "Fat chance."
"Well, now, you shouldn't take that attitude," said Nick reprovingly. "Peaceful co-operation, that's the key. We ghosts, though we belong to separate houses, maintain links of friendship. In spite of the competitiveness between Gryffindor and Slytherin, I would never dream of seeking an argument with the Bloody Baron."
"Only because you're terrified of him," said Ron.
Nearly Headless Nick looked highly affronted.
"Terrified? I hope I, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, have never been guilty of cowardice in my life! The noble blood that runs in my veins-"
"What blood?" asked Ron. "Surely you haven't still got-?"
"It's a figure of speech!" said Nearly Headless Nick, now so annoyed his head was trembling ominously on his partially severed neck. "I assume I am still allowed to enjoy the use of whichever words I like, even if the pleasures of eating and drinking are denied me! But I am quite used to students poking fun at my death, I assure you!"
"Nick, he wasn't really laughing at you!" said Hermione, throwing a furious look at Ron.
Unfortunately, Ron's mouth was packed to exploding point again, and all he could manage was "Node iddum eentup sechew," which Nick did not seem to think constituted an adequate apology. Rising into the air, he straightened his feathered hat and swept away from them to the other end of the table, coming to rest between the Creevey brothers, Colin and Dennis.
"Well done, Ron," snapped Hermione.
"What?" said Ron indignantly, having finally managed to swallow his food. "I'm not allowed to ask a simple question?"
"Oh, forget it," said Hermione irritably, and the pair spent the rest of the meal in huffy silence. How Ron could be so amazing one minute and so dreadfully annoying the next was astounding.
When all the students had finished eating, and the noise level in the Hall was starting to creep upwards again, Dumbledore got to his feet once more. Talking ceased immediately as all turned to face the Headmaster.
"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," said the Headmaster. "First-years ought to know that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students – and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too." (Hermione, Ron, and Harry exchanged smirks.)
"Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four-hundred-and-sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr Filch's office door.
"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."
There was a round of polite but unenthusiastic applause, during which Hermione, Ron, and Harry exchanged slightly panicked looks; Dumbledore had not said how long Grubbly-Plank would be teaching.
Dumbledore continued, "Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the-"
He broke off, looking enquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Professor Umbridge cleared her throat, "Hem, hem," and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech.
To his credit, Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, then he sat down smartly and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. Other members of staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair, and Professor McGonagall's mouth was as thin as Hermione had ever seen it. No new teacher had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. Many of the students were smirking; they obviously didn't understand the full ramifications of this woman's placement at Hogwarts, nor did they recognise this brief rebuff of the status quo as just the first of many.
"Thank you, Headmaster," Professor Umbridge simpered, "for those kind words of welcome."
Her voice was high-pitched, breathy, and little-girlish. She gave another little throat-clearing cough ("hem, hem") and continued.
"Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. "And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!"
On the contrary, they all looked rather taken aback at being addressed as though they were five years old.
"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"
Students exchanged looks at this. Hermione's stomach was exponentially turning to lead.
"I'll be her friend as long as I don't have to borrow that cardigan," Parvati whispered to Lavender, and both lapsed into silent giggles. Did no one understand what was going on?
Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again ("hem, hem"), but when she continued, some of the breathiness had vanished from her voice. She sounded much more businesslike, and now her words had a dull, learned-by-heart sound.
"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."
Professor Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back to her. Professor McGonagall's dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawklike, and she glanced over to give Professor Sprout a worried look.
"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress, there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation, is necessary as we usher the Wizarding World into the progress of the new Millenium."
Professor Umbridge continued her speech with an air of authority and conviction, her pink, frilly outfit contrasting sharply with the seriousness of her words. "Students, let me assure you that the Ministry of Magic is fully committed to ensuring that your education is nothing short of excellent. The magical abilities you possess are not to be taken lightly, and it is our duty to guide you towards a path of enlightenment and proficiency. The wizarding world is rich with ancient knowledge and traditions, a reservoir of power that must not be squandered or lost."
She paced in front of the assembly, her eyes scanning the crowd, ensuring that every student was under her watchful eye. Hermione listened intently, her mind absorbing every word with a seriousness that mirrored Umbridge's own, her heart beating faster and faster.
"Our magical heritage is a precious resource, a legacy passed down through generations. It is our responsibility, as wizards and witches, to preserve and protect these extraordinary talents. The teachers at Hogwarts play a crucial role in imparting this wisdom to you, moulding you into the future custodians of our magical society."
Umbridge paused, allowing her words to sink in before continuing with unwavering determination.
"Hogwarts, as you know, has a long and storied history. Each headmaster and headmistress has contributed something unique to the school, and this tradition of evolution is what keeps Hogwarts at the forefront of magical education. We must strike a balance between the old and the new, between preserving our esteemed traditions and embracing the necessary changes that progress demands."
She fixed her gaze on the students, emphasising the gravity of her next words.
"Remember, progress is essential, but it must be purposeful and measured. Blindly chasing after change for its own sake can lead to chaos. Hogwarts has thrived for centuries because of its commitment to a harmonious blend of tradition and innovation. It is in this delicate equilibrium that we find the strength to face the challenges that lie ahead.
"Therefore, the Hogwarts staff and the Ministry of Magic must reevaluate all of the choices that have been and will be made in this hallowed school, pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited. Some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognised as errors of judgment. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."
She sat down. Dumbledore clapped. The staff followed his lead, though several brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping. A few students joined in, but most had been taken unawares by the end of the speech, not having listened to more than a few words of it, and before they could start applauding appropriately, Dumbledore had stood up again.
"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating," he said, bowing to her. "Now, as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held…"
"Yes, it certainly was illuminating," said Hermione in a low voice.
"You're not telling me you enjoyed it?" Ron said quietly, turning a glazed face towards Hermione. "That was about the dullest speech I've ever heard, and I grew up with Percy."
"I said illuminating, not enjoyable," said Hermione. "It explained a lot."
"Did it?" said Harry in surprise. "Sounded like a load of waffle to me."
"There was some important stuff hidden in the waffle," said Hermione grimly. Did those boys ever listen?
"Was there?" said Ron blankly.
"How about: 'progress for progress's sake must be discouraged'? How about: 'pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited'?"
"Well, what does that mean?" said Ron impatiently.
"I'll tell you what it means," said Hermione ominously. "It means the Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts."
There was a great clattering and banging all around them; Dumbledore had just dismissed the school because everyone was standing up, ready to leave the Hall. Hermione jumped up, looking flustered.
"Ron, we're supposed to show the first-years where to go!"
"Oh yeah," said Ron, who had obviously forgotten. "Hey – hey, you lot! Midgets!"
"Ron!"
"Well, they are. They're titchy."
"I know, but you can't call them midgets! – First-years!" Hermione called commandingly along the table. "This way, please!"
A group of new students walked shyly up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, following Hermione's voice. She led them through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase, through two doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries, and up a few more staircases, narrating it as she went. She remembered during her first year, Percy wasn't exactly detail-oriented, and she didn't want to repeat that mistake.
"I will have a detailed list of rules for you all to review in the next few days," she continued as they walked. "I will ask you all to sign stating you read and understood them by the end of the week."
"'Mione," Ron whispered, jogging to keep up with her.
"What?"
"You're going to have to slow down - the midgets can't keep up," he said, pointing behind them. Half of the first-years were standing on the opposite moving staircase.
Hermione was mortified. She had no idea what to do. "Hey, it's ok," Ron said. "I'll head back and get them. Just wait here."
Ron went up and around, taking the trick staircase shortcut across to the rest of the first-years. Together, they jumped on the staircase once it moved closest to them and then rode it across to Hermione and the others.
"Fifteen midgets, just for you!" Ron said with a silly grin.
"Thank you," Hermione mumbled, still embarrassed. Her first real Prefect job, and she lost half of her charges.
"Now, you lot," Ron said in a loud voice. "What happened right there was your first lesson - the staircases are completely dodgy. They move, there are trick ones, and you're gonna get stranded or lost at least once a day. You're just gonna have to pay attention and figure it out. And if you're late to class, you're gonna lose Gryffindor house points, so make sure you either know how to manage the stairs, or you leave for class extra early."
"Ron's exactly right," Hermione said, giving him a thankful smile for saving her from looking like a git. "Now, moving on…"
Hermione and Ron continued leading the first-years up to the Gryffindor tower, taking turns addressing the terrified children. They both fell into a rhythm, Hermione explaining the pertinent information and Ron adding in his own colourful tidbits. She had to admit his antics kept the kids' attention. They were a good team.
Finally, they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, which marked the entrance of the Gryffindor dorms. "Right. This is the entrance to our dorms. You need a password to enter."
"And don't be a git and write down the password, even if you are horrible at remembering things," Ron added. "Or else some psycho killer will find it and sneak in and rip up your room with a knife." The students laughed, not realising Ron was being completely serious.
"The password will change," Hermione warned. "Currently, the password is 'Mimbulus mimbletonia!'"
The Fat Lady smiled and swung open. "Welcome, first years!" she said as they crawled through the portrait hole.
The Gryffindor common room looked as welcoming as ever. It was a cosy circular tower room full of worn squashy armchairs and rickety old tables. A fire was crackling merrily in the grate, and a few people were warming their hands by it before going up to their dormitories.
"This is the common room," Ron said. "You can go anywhere in here except those seats right over there." He pointed at his, Hermione's, and Harry's favourite seats. "Those are forbidden."
Hermione rolled her eyes but let it slide. "The boys' dorms are up this staircase, and the girls' dorms are up this one here. Tomorrow, you will receive your timetable for classes. Ron and I will be available first thing in the morning if you have any questions."
"Hermione will be," Ron said. "I'm not a morning person. Don't talk to me before I get breakfast."
"And that's it, I guess!" Hermione said, clapping her hands and looking at the tired faces before her. "Welcome to Hogwarts!"
There was a splattering of applause while the children started splitting up and going to their respective rooms.
As the last one started up the steps, Hermione fell into her favourite chair. Ron did the same next to her. "Day one - done," Ron grinned.
"Day one, done; 301 to go," Hermione said with a tired smile.