The Sorting Ceremony is always a celebration. A celebration for the children entering Hogwarts, even if this day is filled with anxious expectation, slight insecurity due to uncertainty, and joy from the final result. A celebration for the rest, because this is one of the few days a year when the tables of the Great Hall of Hogwarts will burst with the most diverse and very tasty food—who would really refuse to arrange such a feast for themselves?
Of course, not everyone considered this day a holiday; for example, some teachers would prefer not to return to Hogwarts once again, not to see students, and generally. Yes-yes, Professor Snape is one of them. Of course, among the students there were also those dissatisfied with the beginning of the school year, but there were surprisingly few of them. Hogwarts, as it seems to me, is one of the few schools where children strive to return for the new school year.
Exactly such thoughts overcame me while I, along with other students, watched the sorting ceremony of the incoming eleven-year-olds. There was nothing new or unexpected, except for the Sorting Hat's song, although it is new every year, if rumors are to be believed. But this time she pulled a motive about overcoming difficulties, about dark times and the stupidity of many prejudices. Either this hat is a prophet, or Dumbledore controls it. Well, as the most logical and understandable option. Or maybe she is intelligent enough to analyze certain rumors and draw her own conclusions.
"I wonder," Justin whispered, leaning slightly sideways to me. "Where did they put Hagrid?"
Our shaggy big guy really wasn't anywhere, and it's not that we didn't see him or he was hiding somewhere—not with his dimensions. He really isn't at the welcoming feast, and this is nonsense. Hagrid, whatever people think about him, loves various traditions and honors them if he considers them important. The presence of all teachers and school staff at the sorting and feast is not just a tradition, but a duty, and only for a valid, really valid reason was it allowed not to attend these events.
"Maybe something important happened?" I shrugged, peering at other teachers, but no one looked more worried than usual, and Flitwick generally felt great in the light of the empty seat next to him.
"Or suffered from some cute little animal?"
"Jokes aside, buddy," I smiled weakly at Justin, "but his little animals can really be damn dangerous. Strange thing is—the more dangerous they are, the better Hagrid gets along with them. If he can suffer from some beast, then more likely from a Bowtruckle or Niffler than from something really dangerous."
"True..."
A couple of teachers looked at us with slight disapproval—we were among the few who preferred to whisper a little during the sorting, and not sit silently, listen, watch and wait.
"Let's later," I nodded towards these teachers. "Or else they will be offended at us, you never know..."
"Yeah..."
The sorting meanwhile practically came to an end. What can I say? More kids came than last year, albeit not phenomenally, and the proportions of division by houses were plus or minus equal. With a glance I carefully memorized those who got to us—four girls and five boys. Everyone looked happy, which is good—I wouldn't want to mess with those who would consider Hufflepuff not the house where "their magnificence" should study.
As soon as the last of the newcomers took a seat at the table of his house, Dumbledore stood up from his bulky throne-like chair and approached the lectern decorated with an animated gilded owl, which immediately spread its wings.
"To our newcomers—welcome!" the Headmaster's sonorous voice spread through the hall. "To our old guard—welcome back to familiar nests! There will still be time for speeches, but now is the time for something else. Eat and drink with pleasure!"
To the satisfied applause of the students, the Headmaster took his seat, and the tables in the blink of an eye filled with long-awaited food in all its conceivable variety. I, as a food lover, could not help but notice that thanks to the visit of guests last year, our house-elves slightly expanded the menu, adding some dishes from foreign cuisine. Yes, there wasn't much of this, but these were the dishes most loved by our guys—it seems house-elves keep statistics of who ate what and how.
As soon as the first hunger was satisfied, conversations began over a leisurely further meal.
"Hey, Hector!" my attention was attracted by Herbert, our Keeper.
"Yes?"
"Are you aware that we need a Seeker, a Chaser and both Beaters for the team? And a captain."
"Do you want to talk about this right now?"
"Yes, our star, yes!" smiling, nodded this eternally cheerful guy, now studying in the seventh year. "So what?"
"Do you want to remain a Keeper?"
"Oh?! You know," he guiltily spread his hands to the sides, "I'm not the best Keeper, and remained there only out of hopelessness."
"And will you be captain?"
"Nah, better let Tamsin," Herbert nodded towards the girl who, like him, moved to the seventh year, and still preferred a short haircut.
"Pfft, what?" Tamsin almost choked on juice. "Let Hector be."
"See," I smiled at Herbert. "Can't solve the issue right off the bat. Discuss in the common room."
Dinner proceeded quite peacefully, calmly, but conversations were lively, albeit rather empty in their meaning. Everyone at our table was satisfied, and that is good.
When I, and the others too, ate to the full program, the remains of dishes disappeared from the tables, and only goblets, mugs and jugs with drinks remained, but they will also disappear as soon as the Headmaster officially sends everyone to the common rooms. Here, by the way, he stood up from his seat again and approached the podium.
"Now that we have begun to digest this magnificent dinner, I, as usual at the beginning of the school year, ask for your attention to several brief messages," said Dumbledore. "First-years should remember that the forest on the school grounds is a forbidden zone for students. Some of our older students, I hope, have now remembered this for sure. Mr. Filch, our caretaker, asked me—according to him, for the four hundred and sixty-second time—to remind you that magic is not allowed in the corridors of Hogwarts. A number of other prohibitions also apply, a detailed list of which, along with a list of prohibited items, is posted on the door of Mr. Filch's office... We have two changes in the teaching staff. We are pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will conduct classes on Care of Magical Creatures. I also with pleasure introduce to you Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
The Headmaster paused slightly for applause from the students, but they, these very applause, were not particularly bright, which is not surprising. Students do not really like changes in the teaching staff, and by these very applause one can easily understand the attitude of students to the past DADA professor. And judging by purely formal applause, and even then, far from everyone, one can say one thing—Moody was not bad, albeit peculiar.
"Selection for house Quidditch teams will take place..."
An event unexpected for many, well, for everyone, forced students to pay attention not to the Headmaster, who himself turned out to be unprepared for such a thing. All eyes turned to Umbridge. This plump short lady stood up from her seat, while not changing much in height. With a slow step, keeping a sugary smile on her face, she came out from behind the teachers' table and headed to the lectern. Dumbledore quickly pulled himself together, took a step back, giving way to her, and the Headmaster's face told everyone that this improvisation was the only thing the Headmaster would like to hear most in the world.
"Amusing," drawled Ernie, sitting to the right of me. "Look at the others, how they grimaced."
And this was the purest truth—the other teachers expressed their displeasure more than clearly.
"Thank you, Headmaster," Umbridge spoke while walking to the lectern, "for your kind words of welcome."
Her voice did not match the image—high, like a young girl's, with a sort of breathiness. She did not take the Headmaster's place at the lectern—she stood in front of it, leaving Dumbledore and the entire teaching staff behind her back. Personally, I was amused by how the Headmaster's face changed as soon as he fell out of Umbridge's field of vision. He stood with his hands clasped in front of him, tilted his head slightly to one side, looked somewhere into the distance, and his face expressed both slight dislike and hopelessness. And it was funny.
"And how pleasant it is," Umbridge addressed us, the students sitting in the Hall, continuing to smile, "to be at Hogwarts again! To see your smart, happy faces smiling at me. And I am sure that we will become very good friends with you."
She paused in the manner of the Headmaster, only there was no applause—not a single clap due at this moment. The corner of Umbridge's mouth twitched almost imperceptibly in slight indignation, but she saved face and decided to continue her speech.
"Our Ministry of Magic has invariably considered the education of our wizards and witches a matter of utmost importance," Umbridge began to walk slowly back and forth, staring intently into the Hall and continuing to smile. "Although each Headmaster brought something new to the leadership of this ancient school, we should not encourage progress just for the sake of progress..."
Judging by the faces of some students, their ears began to curl into a tube from the purely formal speech of this pink lady, which is not surprising—here guys are used to more meaningful, constructive speeches, and now even an unprepared sapient should feel falsity and play on words, the meaning of which is far from what we hear.
"...Some of the changes bring genuine improvement, while others over the years reveal their uselessness. Similarly, some of the old customs are subject to preservation, while those of them that have become dilapidated and outlived themselves should be abandoned. Let us take a step into a new era—into an era of openness, efficiency and responsibility, preserving what deserves preservation, improving what must be improved, eradicating what has no place in our lives. M-he-he..."
The quiet malicious laugh of this short pink lady was phenomenally nasty—I even got goosebumps. She seemed to resemble some unpleasant magical semi-sentient creature from the elf's life... Something unpleasant like that, but without specifics.
Having smiled, Umbridge decided to return to her place, giving the Headmaster the opportunity to finish his welcoming speech. The students seemed to wake up from this boring speech, perked up, and those who decided to ignore Umbridge, minding their own business, again turned their attention to Dumbledore.
"Thank you to Professor Umbridge for such a meaningful speech. As I have already said, selection for house Quidditch teams will begin from the third week of the first semester. I dare to hope that after last year's break you, dear students, will show true zeal in this direction, and we will all be able to enjoy truly bright and exciting matches this year..."
"Ass, comrades," Ernie nodded importantly, finally digesting Umbridge's words.
"Explain?" I turned to him.
"As if you don't understand yourself."
"I might understand, but I want to hear other versions too."
"In general, from Umbridge's words one thing is clear—she came here to throw everyone off balance and uncover something like that."
"Like that?"
"Dig info on Dumbledore," Hannah took pity on the students listening with one ear to both us and the Headmaster. "You seem to have fallen out of life somewhat."
"Can say so," I nodded in agreement. "The first month was all in business, and in August rested from everyone, spending time with family."
"This is, of course, correct," Hannah barely restrained from shaking her head in disagreement. "But some things need to be known. Everyone wants to dig under the Headmaster now. For his statements about the rebirth of the Dark Lord... Damn... Wanted to say 'You-Know-Who'... In general, he is now only the Headmaster. He was driven from the post of Supreme Mugwump, as well as from the chairmanship of the ICW."
"Umbridge," Susan suddenly spoke, adjusting the black headband on her red hair, "is an insolent evil bitch, and any of her words should be understood only and only in a bad sense."
"Wow!" Justin looked in surprise at the instantly embarrassed Susan.
"So aunt says," she waved it off. "And her opinion is worth trusting."
"And what 'bad sense' do we have here?" this Zacharias already decided to ask, maintaining calm and his characteristic slight indifference on his face.
"Hmm..." I thought, noting with the edge of consciousness that the Headmaster's speech was almost over. "Obviously, Umbridge will try to establish her rules, reform what she considers necessary to throw everyone off balance and thereby 'uncover' something. Anything that can be used against the Headmaster. Collateral victims, I assume, will not interest her."
"...And now," Dumbledore spoke a little louder than before. "Hurry to your rooms and rest properly before tomorrow!"
With these words the feast came to an end, goblets, mugs and jugs disappeared, and students began to slowly get up from their seats, filling the Great Hall with the hum of instantly born discussions, conversations. Hannah and I hurried to get up from our seats and turn our attention to the part of the table that was closer to the teachers—it was there that the first-years sat, who now did not quite understand what needed to be done, only got up from their seats along with the rest.
"First-years!" Hannah and I shouted these words simultaneously.
The little ones immediately looked at us. Hannah looked at me and pointed the guys in my direction—she herself sat on the other side of the table and considered, obviously, that separating newcomers into two streams was not worth it, they would get confused.
The kids gathered around me quite quickly, and Hannah went around the table and now stood behind them.
"So, guys, we'll get acquainted later, in the common room, and now, follow me," I smiled as friendly as possible, and it really doesn't work out, in fact, without a smile to look at such a variety of emotions—from surprise and anticipation, to embarrassment and slight confusion.
Turning around, I, not particularly fast so that the little ones wouldn't have to break into a run, followed the rest of the students of our house gradually making their way to the exit.
We reached the Main Tower quite quickly and, passing students of other houses except Slytherin, moved towards the dungeons.
"So," I began my speech only now, when audibility became quite tolerable. "For now you can not burden your brains with how to get where—you will have two weeks to master the castle under my guidance, or under the guidance of the girl prefect."
The guys followed me without asking unnecessary questions, just turning their heads back and forth, trying to examine everything that caught their eye at all.
"But, nevertheless, I want to say that our common room is located practically in the dungeons, quite close to the Great Hall and the Main Tower—the very one we just passed, where moving stairs and a myriad of living portraits are."
Slytherins already turned into their corridor, and we almost reached the kitchen, near the entrance to which I stopped and turned to the guys.
"Here," I pointed my hand to a large still life, "is the most important room of the castle. Do you know which one?"
The guys shook their heads or just continued to look at me.
"Kitchen!" I importantly raised my index finger to the ceiling. "As is known, the further from the authorities and closer to the kitchen—the better."
The little ones smiled at such a twist, because we all love goodies, even if we never admit it to ourselves—what can you do if the combination of taste bud reactions liked by a person positively affects the pleasure center of the brain and stimulates the production of certain hormones. Food is our natural drug.
"Did everyone remember this passage?"
Waiting for nods, I continued:
"And to get there, need to tickle this pear..." I pointed my hand to one single pear on the still life. "Now I will not do this—there, in the kitchen, house-elves work, they are a little tired now and will not just leave dear guests alone until they shove a bunch of goodies, whether you want it or not. Better not go there full. Let's move on."
I waved my hand invitingly and walked along the stone corridor, in which torchlight managed to get lost in the darkness under the ceiling, although it wasn't that high. Ahead, to my surprise, some of the students were waiting for us, glancing at how I told about the kitchen and smiling.
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