The ride passed amid meaningless conversations about this and that. For instance, about who'd be keeping which subjects for the sixth and seventh years, and such like.
Hogwarts greeted us with the same unchanging stones, the booming corridors lit by torches and flames in bowls, the darkness lurking beneath the high ceilings. The Great Hall remained the same Great Hall — hundreds of candles floating unchangingly above the House tables, as is customary on the first of September, while the illusion of the night sky was as realistic and vivid as ever, showing stars, a couple of little clouds, and the moon closer to the horizon.
Only at the teachers' table could one notice perceptible changes. Firstly, the mood of these very teachers. Before, one could always notice, alongside the self-importance they exuded, a certain solemnity and good cheer. Now only Flitwick and some plumpish grey-haired old man in strict but evidently expensive brown robes and — what a surprise — an Oxford cap could boast of this. The square sort, with a tassel — I'd only seen one in films, honest to goodness!
Another noticeable change was, of course, Snape, sitting in the Headmaster's place with the air of an utterly exhausted man. That was all that could be said of him that differed from his customary image — the pose of a relaxed, tired man, all in black.
Hagrid wasn't there, which was no surprise, but Professor Grubbly-Plank was.
There were yet more new faces. It seems they'd replaced the Muggle Studies teacher. Although, why "it seems" — that's just how it was. The fact that I didn't attend Professor Burbage's lessons doesn't mean I'd forgotten her. In her place sat some old man, dull and tiresome even to look at, with a sharp face, all in black clothing with rare flecks of silver in the form of some detail, accessory, or trim along a sleeve.
And in the DADA teacher's place sat a woman unknown to me, who clearly favoured green tones in her clothing, her chestnut hair simply gathered into a ponytail at the back of her head.
Oh no, there's another new face — an unremarkable middle-aged man. So unremarkable that he didn't even need eye-aversion charms. Just a grey suit, robes of the same grey, only a touch darker.
Having surveyed everyone on the way to the House table, I nodded to myself — there were changes. We'll see what sort of changes these are.
"Hi…" — those I hadn't crossed paths with on the train, and who knew me, greeted me or nodded. And those who didn't know me personally greeted me too.
The atmosphere in the Hall was neutral. Neither joyful nor sad. The students were discussing something, now and then chuckles could be heard, now and then — indignant exclamations. On the whole, everyone was simply waiting for the first-years to appear and the Sorting to begin.
The doors to the Hall flew open — Filch closes them on the sly before the teacher leads in the newcomers. In short, the doors opened, and McGonagall strode briskly into the Hall in her unchanging black dress, only her robes weren't the customary emerald but a very, very dark brown, almost black. As was her wide-brimmed witch's hat.
Behind the professor scurried the little first-years, looking about with interest, admiration and a share of fear. The usual Sorting began, nothing new.
"Hey, hi," Zacharias sat down beside me. "How are things?"
"Hi. Excellent."
We spoke quietly, since everyone was interested, after all, in which House this or that student would end up in. Well, perhaps I'm exaggerating. I allow that I'm greatly exaggerating, and many couldn't care less, but I watched and memorised straight away, so as not to bother with it later. And during the applause for a Sorted student it's impossible to talk at all.
"Did you notice how many new teachers there are…" Zacharias nodded towards the table.
"You don't say," I replied, not without a smirk.
Susan reacted to our conversation.
"And I know for certain that for DADA there'll be a whole two teachers. For the sixth and seventh years, and for everyone else."
"Decided to get ahead of Snape with the news, even if by a couple of minutes?" Zacharias answered her at once.
"And why are you such a grouch?" Susan hid her slight hurt behind an even brighter, but feigned one.
"Just… Sorry."
"Ravenclaw!!!" the Hat interrupted our conversation, and the Hall was flooded with another wave of applause.
When the next newcomer was called up to try on the Sorting Hat, and silence reigned in the Hall once more, Hannah nodded towards Zacharias.
"He's upset he's been left here for two years without his bosom friend."
"No one's stopping him corresponding with Justin," I shrugged.
"Gryffindor!!!" the situation with the Hat and the ovations repeated itself.
"The fact that he's left Hogwarts," I continued, "doesn't yet mean he's vanished for good. We can arrange for him to come visit us on our trips to Hogsmeade."
"And how, exactly?"
"What's the Knight Bus for?"
Zacharias stared stupidly into nowhere, then thumped the table with his forehead with a hollow thud.
"I'm an idiot."
"Gryffindor!!!"
And so the Sorting passed — amid idle conversations. The first-years were, without exception, glad of the Hat's verdict, accepted the congratulations of their new comrades, or simply grew embarrassed at the attention. It seems to me the Hat lays too strong an emphasis on the student's personal choice, if there's a possibility to choose at all. I simply can't explain otherwise the joy of everyone, really everyone.
When Snape stood, managing to twitch his black robes dramatically even on the spot, the Hall instantly fell quiet. And when he stood at the lectern, the iron owl upon which immediately spread its wings with a characteristic metallic rustle, the silence was already perfect.
"I shall be brief," Snape's quiet, insinuating voice poured through the Hall, and one could hear it in absolutely any corner. "I welcome you all to Hogwarts. As you have, I dare hope, noticed, from this year I hold the post of Headmaster of this school."
The Slytherins, and some students of other Houses, supported Snape with applause. I decided not to make an exception of myself and began applauding too. My House, to my surprise, only after my actions, as if on command, began applauding, some even reluctantly.
"Am I really so authoritative?" I asked Hannah in surprise.
"You've no idea."
"That's… expected, but unexpected."
Snape sharply raised a hand in a halting gesture, and the noise ceased at once. The "drilling" à la Snape is strong in the students' consciousness, nothing to say there.
"My thanks," Snape nodded sparingly, without gratitude on his face. "I also wish to introduce the new teachers, whose appointment was the result of staff reshuffles initiated by the Board of Governors and the Ministry…"
"My, how he's shifted responsibility off himself…" Zacharias whispered ever so quietly.
"It's true…" Ernie whispered just as quietly. "There were various decrees going around, but without raising a fuss."
"To begin with, I am glad to welcome within the walls of Hogwarts Horace Slughorn. He has in the past already held the honourable posts of Head of Slytherin and Professor of Potions. To these posts he has agreed to return from this year onward."
From his place rose that very plumpish old man in the brown robes and Oxford cap, bowing happily under the applause of half, or perhaps a touch more, of the students.
"Besides this, Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank has agreed to teach Care of Magical Creatures this year."
The witch, already familiar to many, rose and nodded briefly — she'd stood in for Hagrid at one time. Incidentally, I'd heard his name a couple of times from the direction of the Gryffindor table — someone was asking about him. As if Snape would keep Hagrid in the post of professor. Although the big fellow, having practised for a year or two, would have eventually picked the right methodology and become an excellent practical teacher.
"The post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher will from this year be divided between two teachers. The Ministry has finally deigned to pay attention to the long-standing problem of the post's elusive curse, so from now on there will be two subjects. For years one through five — Magical Self-Defence. Teaching it to you will be Professor Herbert Smith."
The unremarkable man in grey clothing rose and nodded with restraint. This elicited no particular surge of congratulations from the students, and that was, rather, a habit — usually new DADA professors were a disappointment, if the rumours were to be believed.
"For the sixth and seventh years this subject will bear the name, in accordance with ancient tradition — Combat Magic. This subject will be taught by Professor Helen Hunt."
The chestnut-haired woman I'd noticed, in whose clothing dark green dominated, rose from her place rather predatorily and nodded. The applause was clearly greater, and belonged mainly to the male half of the students.
"Something about her I don't like," Hannah frowned, but clapped, as did I.
"Is that because she's not old Umbridge?" Ernie smirked.
"Someone want one in the mouth?" the young woman smirked back.
"No-no, perish the thought, my lady."
"And I'm curious," I said, having delivered my last "applaus." Actually, can one say "applaus" in the singular, even if only mentally?
"Curious about what?"
"It seems to me she's competent."
"And how did you work that out?" Ernie found this topic interesting. Well, or the fact that the professor, as he'd said, was not-Umbridge.
"A feeling, nothing more."
"Quite right," Hannah nodded.
The Hall fell quiet again, and Snape continued.
"The post of Muggle Studies teacher, which becomes from this year a compulsory special course for all…"
At such words some couldn't restrain a sigh of disappointment.
"…will be taken by Professor Fergus Flint."
Now the sharp-faced old man in black rose from his place, fairly exuding restrained arrogance. He was applauded for the most part by the Slytherins.
"With this I conclude the welcoming address and declare the feast begun," instead of any ritual words, Snape simply clapped his hands quietly, and food immediately appeared on the tables.
The variety, as always on feast days, was staggering, and I didn't deny myself the pleasure of stuffing my belly properly with various delicacies, both meat and vegetable, and the heavier sort. Food, as is known, stimulates the pleasure centre, so everyone's mood abruptly found itself at the "wonderful" mark, and conversations about all manner of nonsense enlivened the meal. The main topic was, of course, the grand staff reshuffle, the largest in the students' memory.
"…what do you think, about…"
"…maybe this year there'll be a decent teacher at last…"
"…and the old man's creepy…"
"…stupid Muggle Studies…"
The conversation went on in that vein. And I, besides the food and conversations, was planning the coming week, for prefect duties demand a certain amount of time, and on top of that I'll have to play Quidditch because of the contract, and study under Smethwyck.
"Hannah, tell me…"
"Yes, Hector?"
"We split the prefect duties between us, same as last year?"
"Of course," the young woman nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It worked out well. Why?"
"Just checking."
"Are you really planning everything out already?"
"What can you do," I shrugged. "I have to have a clear schedule — on this I stand, and can do no other."
"Not quite to the point, and not quite a quote."
"The main thing is the meaning."
Well then… Welcome to Hogwarts, my dear self. Looks as though the year promises to be interesting. Well, at the start, at least.
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