Chapter Text
As Professor McGonagall led the first years into the Great Hall, many of them were completely awed by the bewitched ceiling, that made it seem like there was no ceiling; and the many hundreds of floating candles casting flickering light on the faces of the students and staff. As he walked ahead of Ron, Harry tried to calm his nerves. While a small, logical part of him knew that there couldn't be some form of test, Ron's words kept coming back to him.
After what seemed like many long minutes, they reached the top of the hall, and lined up facing the students, as Professor McGonagall placed a four-legged stool, with an old and patched pointed hat on it, in front of the first years. Once everyone was silent, a tear in the hat's brim opened like a mouth, and the hat began to sing. It introduced itself as the Sorting Hat, and when the song finished and the hall burst into applause, many of the first years visibly relaxed, and Ron whispered to Harry.
“So we've just got to try on the hat!, I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll.”
Harry smiled weakly, but still felt nervous, he didn't feel that he fit into any of the four houses, and there had been no mention of one for those who felt a bit queasy. Professor McGonagall started calling names, and when his name was called, Harry sat there for almost five minutes, trying to convince the hat to put him somewhere other than Slytherin. Many of the students and staff were shocked that Harry Potter, THE Harry Potter, was not an instant Gryffindor. Many would forget that thought soon after when the Sorting Hat shouted “GRYFFINDOR”.
When the Sorting finished, Harry found himself sat at the Gryffindor table with the four Weasleys, and a ghost, who introduced himself as Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, as Dumbledore began the feast.
As he ate, Harry took the chance to look at the staff table. In the middle, on a golden throne, sat Professor Dumbledore, to his right sat Professor McGonagall, to his left was a short-looking man, who was talking animatedly to squat, smiling witch, with short, wavy grey hair. Further to the right, he saw Professor Quirrell, wearing a purple turban, and talking to a sallow-skinned, hook nosed man, with greasy-looking black hair. When the teacher looked into Harry's eyes, he felt a stab of pain in his scar. Percy told him that the dark-haired teacher was the Potions master, Professor Snape. Looking back at the teachers, Harry noticed three individuals sat next to Hagrid, having a fairly heated conversation. The first was a strange-looking wizard, with messy silver hair, and a large, claw-like wooden arm. Next to him, was a witch who looked similar to Professor McGonagall, but with kinder eyes. Rather than the typical robes of the majority of the staff, she was wearing what looked like an old-fashioned nurse's uniform. Next to her was a woman in a long leather coat, with a turquoise scarf. She had dark skin, and bright silver hair that was in short, narrow braids on the right-hand side, and loose and wavy on the left. Her almond-shaped eyes stood out, being a glittering green, similar to peridot crystals.
During a lull in her conversation, she looked out over the students, and locked eyes with Harry. Unlike when he looked into Snape's eyes, there was no stab of pain, but Harry noticed that her brows furrowed, and her expression changed to be somewhere between worried and calculating. She then leaned in close to the witch in the nurse uniform, and whispered something to her.
Before Harry could ask Percy about her, the desserts disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore stood, silencing the Hall.
“Ahem – just a few more words now we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.”
“First, I would like to welcome back Professor Quirrell, who, after his year getting experience, has returned to take over teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts.”
Quirrell stood and smiled nervously at the students, before returning to his seat.
“I would also like to welcome back Professor Sikander, who has agreed to continue teaching Muggle Studies.”
A man with dark brown hair and a goatee stood, and smiled at the students.
“Next, I would like to welcome Miss Io Ashforge.”
The woman in the leather coat stood, and gave a slight wave, with her right hand.
“Miss Ashforge, has agreed to take over the teaching of first and second year Potions, allowing Professor Snape to focus more fully on his other duties.”
This statement had most of the second years cheering, and many of the third years looking disappointed.
“Additionally, she will be teaching a new course for third year and above – Artifice. There will be leaflets left in your common rooms explaining the basics of the course, any students in third or fourth year who are interested, may contact their head of house before the end of the coming week, to sign up for the course.”
“First-years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.”
The headmaster's twinkling eyes passed over the Weasley twins.
“I have been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.
“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.”
“And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death.”
With that Dumbledore had them sing the school song, before sending all of the students to bed.