˗ˋ 29

                                    

                                          
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
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-: seventh year :-
                          
── IN WHICH HE'S INTERRUPTED
                          
. . .
                          


                          
Rose Zeller was the last to be sorted - into Hufflepuff, no less - and it was considerably fair to say that everyone's concentration had dwindled significantly. Of course, the Sorting started like every other, rapt attention being paid towards the event and clapping starting up from whichever table sat the new students.
                          
But by the time the younger Zeller girl was sorted, conversations had sprung up all over, and the staff behind the Sorting Hat and it's stool seemed to be particularly worried. The Hat sung every year, but as pointed out by many students, it had never warned them like that before. 
                          
"Of course, there was one particular line in the song a couple of years ago that hinted towards danger within the castle, but nothing as explicit as that." Nearly-Headless Nick was saying, as prompted by several Gryffindor fifth year students. 
                          
He was talking about Rosie, Fred and George's fourth year, in which Gilderoy Lockhart (whose name still sparked up disgruntled eye rolls and rushed reminders that he was currently suffering in St. Mungo's  - "He deserves it though, the things he's done." Ron muttered every time it was brough up) had been their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and Harry's reputation had gone downhill as the rumours he was the heir of Slytherin spread.
                          
But instead, it was Tom Riddle's - more commonly known as known other than Lord Voldemort - diary that had been causing all the trouble, possessing poor Ginny and reigning terror all over the school. It had come to it's end with Harry, and once again Rosie couldn't help but feel bad for all things that Harry eended up being involved him.
                          
"You see, the Hat feels itself honor-bound to give the school due warning whenever it feels -" Nick was still saying, only to be cut off by the sight of Dumbledore rising to his feet amongst the flood of students still voicing their worries. The Gryffindor ghost rushed away from the table, floated would perhaps be a better term, to the side of the Hall, waiting for Dumbledore to begin. 
                          
Even in the face of all the Daily Prophet headlines that summer and the growing distaste for the famous Wizard in the magical community, there was only one person who could still hold that command and silence such a crowd by simply standing up - Albus Dumbledore. 
                          
"To our newcomers," Dumbledore began in a ringing voice,his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his lips, as if he hadn't been discredited in every single edition of the Daily Prophet and other such newspapers since the claims of Voldemort's return, "Welcome! To our old hands - welcome back! There is a timefor speech making, but this is not it. Tuck in!" 

                          
There was an appreciative laugh and an outbreak ofapplause as Dumbledore sat down neatly and threw his longbeard over his shoulder so as to keep it out of the way of hisplate — for food had appeared out of nowhere, so that thefive long tables were groaning under joints and pies anddishes of vegetables, bread, sauces, and flagons of pumpkinjuice.
                          
"He doesn't seem particularly worried about it, does he?" Fred muttered, hand gesturing quickly and Rosie holding out a platter of pork chops. "It looks like the only thing he got during the summer was new robes." 

                          
"They are more blue now, aren't they?" George nodded, peering down the table to where the Headmaster was sitting. "Bit of a change from the purple."
                          
"Took one look at that woman and transfigured them on the spot, I'm guessing." Rosie's expression was serious but laughter could be heard from all three of the friends as they continued to tuck into the amazing feast.
                          
Savoury dishes dissolved into sweet, and before anyone knew it they had stuffed themselves full of the house-elf made dishes and it was fading away in front of them, dirty plates replaced by the glossy wooden surface, only the small bowl of peppermints dotted up and down lengths of the table remaining. 
                          
"Out done themselves, again." George relaxed in his seat, elbow slumped down on the table. "I suggest we pay them a visit tomorrow and-"
                          
"Shush." Angelina smiled over at him as she cut him off, sticking out her tongue at the face George was making before nodding towards the staff table  - Dumbledore had risen to his feet and the blissfully food-dazed students came to tranquility once more.
                          
"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." Dumbledore began. "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."

                          
Fred and George had no sense of embarassment as they leaned over the table and high-fived.
                          
"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." The caretaker nodded at Dumbledore's words, glaring threateningly at any student who dared look his way.

                          
"Ah, my favourite haunt." Fred had acquired his old man voice again, a grin spreading across his features. "So our plans for tomorrow now include a visit to the lovely house-elves, but also go and find out what exactly we need to purchase to piss old Filchy off even more."
                          
"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 Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Dumbledore seemed polite as he said it, but the reaction from the students wasn't as enthusiastic.

                          
"What happened to Hagrid?" Rosie turned to look at the twins, only recieving shrugs. "He wasn't helping the first years on the platform either." She let out a sigh. "Umbridge looks like a frog in old ladies clothes."
                          
"Careful, the frogs might get offended." Lee added, grinning at the expression on Rosie's face.
                          
Dumbledore continued, "Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the-" He broke off, looking inquiringly 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 said, "Hem,hem," and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech.

                          
"Hold on - no, Quidditch is the best part of this speech." Fred protested, and he wasn't the only one, concern coming from all of the students.
                          
No one interrupted Dumbledore. This could only lead to trouble.
                          
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