"Harry!" Neville shouted when the boy placed his arm on his shoulder, prompting Harry to make a face at him.
"Do you have to shout my name so loudly?" he asked, annoyed, even though he knew that it wasn't his friend's fault that he was caught by surprise.
His annoyance, however, stemmed from the people who were already turning to point and whisper at him.
'Aren't they nice?' Harry grumbled to himself before doing his best to ignore just about everyone around him.
Waving his hand, he cast a silencing ward that would follow the three Gryffindors.
"Excited for your fifth year?" Harry asked both of them, though he was looking at Hermione.
His bushy-haired friend almost jumped in joy.
"Excited? We are thrilled, enlivened. We are—"
"Just so-so," Neville answered with an eye roll, making Hermione gasp.
"How can you not be excited?" Hermione demanded, looking at Neville with widened eyes. "This is our O.W.L. year! It's one of the most crucial years in our entire magical education! The results will determine our future career paths and our lives and, and—"
"And that's exactly why I'm not jumping for joy," Neville cut in with a deadpan expression.
"Gran's already sent me a letter about how important it is that I uphold the family honour with my results, as if I didn't already know. What's more, we didn't even arrive at school yet," he finished somewhat bitterly.
"Ouch," Harry exclaimed softly, not that anyone heard him; Hermione's reply drowned out his voice.
"Don't talk badly of your grandmother, Neville. She only wants what's best for you."
'Yes, I don't want to hear any of this,' Harry thought and intended the silencing ward encompass himself only.
A moment later, all sound faded to a distant mumble, as if he were suddenly far removed from the world around him.
'Ah, the sweet sound of silence.'
Harry refrained from dismissing his peaceful cocoon and offering his own opinion, feeling that it would be pointless to do so.
He believed that both parties were right and that they just couldn't see what the other meant.
Neville and Hermione kept bickering until they reached the Great Hall, and then, as if by magic, they suddenly stopped.
Of course, Harry couldn't hear them; he just saw that they stilled, and both of their mouths remained firmly closed.
He finally spared them more than a glance, curious as to what had managed to grab their attention.
His eyes followed their line of sight to the staff table.
At first, he thought they were looking towards the Headmaster, who he knew to be Voldemort, but thankfully, that wasn't the case.
He didn't want people learning the Headmaster's true identity, as that would be really dangerous.
A careful and in-sight Voldemort was much better than a reckless and angry one.
Harry was fully aware of what kind of damage an enraged Dark Lord could cause, and he would very much prefer to avoid that.
His plan was to take him out without anyone being the wiser…
The two teens were looking at an unfamiliar woman dressed in an alarming shade of pink. She had a toad-like face stretched into what he supposed was meant to be a smile.
Something about her made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand up.
'Who's this bitch?' he wondered, eyeing the pink-clad woman with suspicion.
He let his senses close up to her, making sure to stray away from the Dark Lord, and felt her magic.
The first thing he noticed was that it was weak, almost pathetically so.
'How can a Professor, and especially the Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, wield so little magic? What is Voldemort playing at?' Harry mused, unable to answer his questions.
The woman's magic also felt as if it was tainted, not by the dark arts, but by something else.
'Curious.'
Lastly, the smug self-importance that was displayed on her face promised another difficult year for Hogwarts' populace.
'As if there weren't enough awful Professors already…'
Harry let his ward grow and encompass his two friends again.
"That's so nifty, mate," Neville exclaimed as soon as he noticed that the sounds around him dimmed.
"Isn't it?" Harry asked with a smile. "So? Did you finally have enough?"
Hermione threw a dirty glare at her boyfriend, but Harry got the feeling that it was more for appearance's sake than anything else, and nodded.
"Does anyone know who's our new Defence Professor?" she asked neutrally.
After all, just because she didn't like her appearance, it didn't mean that the woman was any bad.
In fact, for all they knew, she could be one of the best Professors at DADA out there.
'Yeah, as if,' Harry thought dubiously. 'If she's any good, I'll eat my broomstick…'
"I know her," Neville said slowly and stopped to gather his thoughts. He was trying to find the right words to describe what he knew about the woman.
"Yes?" Harry prompted when Neville stayed silent for almost a whole minute.
"Dolores Umbridge, Senior Under-Secretary to the Minister of Magic. She's a real nasty piece of work, if Gran is to be believed. She somehow managed to claw her way up to power using Fudge, and she's known for her hatred towards half-breeds. She also led a piece of anti-werewolf legislation two years ago, which makes it nearly impossible for werewolves to find work. Overall, no one likes her. I don't understand what she's doing in Hogwarts. It doesn't make sense."
Harry felt like his friend had just confirmed his suspicion.
"She works for Fudge?" Hermione repeated, frowning. "What on earth's she doing here, then?"
"Don't ask us," Neville said with a shrug.
Hermione scanned the staff table, her eyes narrowed.
"No," she muttered, "no, surely not …"
That was when a long line of scared-looking first years entered, led by none other than Professor McGonagall, who was carrying a stool on which sat an ancient wizard's hat, heavily patched and darned with a wide rip near the frayed brim.
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, then stood back.
Harry dropped the ward, and the trio watched yet another sorting go through.
However, something wasn't right.
The whole school waited with bated breath.
The rip near the hat's brim opened wide like a mouth, and the Sorting Hat started singing.
"In times long past when I was sewn,
And magic stirred anew,
Four founders met in secret halls
With dreams both old and true.
They sought to build a lasting home
Where gifted youth might grow,
And pass along their power vast—
Far more than they could know.
'Together we will shape the world.'
They said with hearts alight,
And never did they think that they
Might fall to scorn and spite.
For not all light is free from shade,
And secrets soon took root.
Ambition whispered in the dark,
And hearts began to mute.
Said Slytherin, 'Let power reign—
Only the best shall stay.'
Said Ravenclaw, 'Let wisdom guide
Our ever-learning way.'
Said Gryffindor, 'Let valour lead,
And fight for what is just.'
Said Hufflepuff, 'Let all be heard,
And build with equal trust.'
They split the school, as you well know,
Four houses now remain—
So heed me now, dear Hogwarts youth,
Don't let your hearts grow thin.
The seeds were sown so long ago—
And soon, they sprout within.
Yes, I will sort you, as I must,
For that is what I do…
Let the Sorting now begin."
Silence.
The Hall was engulfed in an abnormal and total silence.
Students exchanged nervous glances, and Harry was glad to see that some of the older ones understood that the Hat's message was wrong, while the first years simply looked confused and apprehensive.
When all was said and done, Professor Dumbledore rose from his seat to deliver his annual welcoming speech.
Whereas Harry had been excited for this moment before, there was none of that now.
Not only was his respect for Dumbledore non-existent now, but he had also gotten stupidly possessed by the Dark Lord.
The Great Hall quieted down as everyone's attention shifted to the Headmaster.
"To the newcomers," said Dumbledore in a ringing voice, his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his lips; there was something wrong with that smile. "Welcome to the Greatest Institute of Magic."
"To everyone else—we are glad to have you back. Now, 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 so as to keep it out of the way of his plate.
Harry was pretty sure he caught an unhappy grimace, though.
.
.
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Chapter 131: It's Finally Over