There were definitely fewer students in the crowd exiting the train this year. Clearly, more parents than ever had refused to send their children to Hogwarts in light of the dangerous situation. As Harry and his party fought their way through the group of students who were there, they heard a familiar shout.

“Firs’ years, firs’ years, this way! Firs’ years, follow me!”

It was, of course, Hagrid, who was gathering the new students together to take them on the traditional trip across the lake to the castle. Hagrid looked around and met Harry’s eyes.

“All righ’, Harry?” he shouted, his hairy face beaming. “How are yeh? Holdin’ up? Hey, wha’s wrong with Hermione?”

Harry approached Hagrid, still holding Hermione’s body up with his wand.

“Wha’ happened?” said Hagrid in a concerned tone. “Who did this to her?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” answered Harry. “Do you remember how to revive someone who’s knocked out? There’s some ‘ennervate’ spell, but we’ve never really learned it…”

“I’ll take care of it,” said Hagrid, raising his umbrella. Harry, who knew what was actually hidden inside it and didn’t have much confidence in Hagrid’s magic, held his breath nervously. But Hagrid did nothing but swish the umbrella through the air and poke Hermione hard in the chest.

“Ouch!” squeaked Hermione. And then, “Oh! Where am I? What happened?” She blinked confusedly and put a hand to her head.

“We’re on our way up to the castle,” Harry said to her.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no!” she squealed. “I’d been planning to go through another N.E.W.T. practice paper on the journey over!”

“It’s all right,” Harry assured her. “Voldemort will probably have attacked the school before we have to take our N.E.W.T.s.”

“So,” said Hagrid, “Dumbledore’s back! How abou’ that, eh? Great man, Dumbledore… Yer won’ believe what he brought in fer extra security, it’s my happiest fantasy…”

Indeed, Hagrid did seem to be in an unusually good mood, which struck Harry as ominous.

“Nah, I won’ tell yeh, I’ll let it be a surprise,” said Hagrid to Harry’s expression of foreboding. “But tha’s not all! Look who I brought ter join us in the boat?”

In the shadows, an enormous figure that Harry had mistaken as a tree revealed itself to be the humongous giant half-brother of Hagrid’s.

“Thought that with fewer new students this year, there’d be room in the boat for Grawp,” Hagrid boomed happily. The first years gathered around him did not look similarly pleased.

Grawp extended a hand to Harry. “Well, hello there!” he exclaimed in a voice loud enough to wake the dead. “It has been quite a long time since we last conversed.”

“See?” Hagrid said proudly. “I told yeh he was makin’ progress!”

“And Hermy,” Grawp continued, turning to Hermione. “I hope I find you well?”

Hermione was very shaky on her feet still, but she said in a quavering voice, “I’m fine, thank you! Actually, it’s Hermione, not Hermy. We just taught you the name Hermy because we thought it would be easier for you to say…”

“Because you thought I was stupid, did you?” shouted Grawp in a threatening voice whose volume was steadily increasing. “Just because I didn’t speak English?”

“N-n-no!” wailed Hermione, sounding terrified. “I mean, Hagrid says you’re the most intelligent giant around!”

“Good,” boomed Grawp in a satisfied voice. “To quote a Muggle named William Hazlitt, ‘Prejudice is the child of ignorance.’”

“Yes, yes, of course it is,” said Hermione shakily, and she and Harry quickly got out of the way to let Hagrid and the first years into the boat. They joined Ron in one of the carriages drawn by thestrals that would take them up to the castle. Harry told him about what Hagrid had said about new security on the castle.

“One of his fantasies?” Ron said incredulously. “It better not be more skrewts…”

They weren’t very close to the castle yet when Harry got a poke in the arm from Ron. He looked up and saw strange, bright lights in the direction of the castle.

“Oh, dear,” muttered Hermione when she saw the lights too. “Surely not…”

Harry thought he knew what she was thinking, and sure enough, as they drew nearer to the castle, their worst fears were realized. No fewer than five dragons were standing in front of the front gates of the castle, their scales glinting off the light of the flames that they belched into the inky darkness. The thestrals drawing the carriages stopped abruptly a couple hundred yards away from them. Then the dark, hunched figure of Filch came running up to the carriage, holding an enormous box.

“Dumbledore ordered the construction of a flame-resistant cloak for every one of you stinking kids,” he snarled. “Come, take one, each of you! And if I catch any of you without one and you aren’t burned to a juicy crisp yet, I’ll make you wish you were!”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione each took a thick cloak out from the box and got jabbed in several sensitive places by Filch’s Secrecy-Sensor.

“Evidently, security’s been increased even more over the summer,” Harry heard Ernie McMillan saying to Susan Bones. “They’ve been talking about having dragons at the school entrances for ages, but as you can see, it takes a real crisis to get anyone to actually do something about it.”

The group of students gingerly made their ways up to the front doors of Hogwarts, each one getting hit by some flames through the cloaks, but it felt pleasantly ticklish. They made their way into the Great Hall, where candles floated over all four House tables and the teachers and ghosts sat or floated in wait. After they were seated at their respective House tables, they didn’t have long to wait before Hagrid came in with the first years, who were likewise wearing flame-resistant cloaks. Hagrid appeared to have several fresh burns on his face, and Harry guessed that he hadn’t bothered to put on a cloak himself. Even through his apparent pain, Hagrid beamed and winked at Harry as he sat down at the staff table.

Professor Flitwick ran up to a seat in the front of the room and placed a patched, frayed hat on it. Everybody waited quietly. Then a rip in the brim opened into a mouth, and the hat burst into song, although somehow the lines didn’t scan as well as usual:

Another year has come and gone,

It seems so short to me.

How will I come up with a song

To sing to all those I see?

It isn’t easy, my dear friends

To be creative each year

When any moment we may come to an end,

And all we feel is fear.

I suppose I should introduce myself

To save you from suspense

That is, for those who don’t already know…

I suppose I’m making no sense.

I am the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

I’ll place each of you in

Either Gryffindor or Hufflepuff

Or Ravenclaw or Slytherin.

Gryffindor is for the brave

Who care not for themselves.

Hufflepuff is for those willing

To work like house-elves.

Ravenclaw is for the sharpest minds,

Who never miss the ball.

For Slytherin, if I can’t think of something nice,

I shan’t say nothing at all.

I’ll place you each in one of these;

It should not take long.

And the only other thing I have to do

Is somehow end this song.

I’m running out of inspiration,

Help me, someone, please!

The only lines I can think of

Are ones that won’t rhyme, bother.

And my closing lines must rhyme with each other…

[long pause] Buther.

The Great Hall burst into applause, although there was plenty of laughter in it. The line of terrified-looking first years, which was already shorter than usual to begin with, got even smaller as each one came up to the front, put the hat on his or her head, and got placed in one of the four Houses by the hat’s voice, which sounded rather feeble tonight. At last, the Sorting was over, the hat was taken away, and the Great Hall became noisy once more.

“Poor hat,” said Harry. “I guess it’s reached the end of its tether.”

“It’s a good thing Fred and George aren’t here,” said Ron. “They’d never stop taking the mickey out of it…”

Hermione nudged Harry and Ron, and they looked up to see Albus Dumbledore getting to his feet, spreading his arms to the crowd, and beaming.

“To our new students and to our older students, welcome to Hogwarts and welcome back respectively!” he cried out jovially in one breath. “Eat, eat, eat!”

Magnificent food appeared on the table, and soon the room full of the clinking of knives and forks and the sounds of chewing and swallowing.

Nearly-Headless Nick appeared between Harry and Ron. “So, the start of another year at Hogwarts,” he said, sighing wistfully. “I wonder who’s going to die at the end of this year?”

“Oh, hi, Nick!” said Ron, his mouth full of food. “You just reminded me, I heard the most hilarious dead person joke over the summer, wanna hear it?”

“Every time I think the old light will go on in your head and you will learn proper manners…” chided Nick in a dignified voice, and he floated away from Ron.

Harry was looking up at the staff table. There was Dumbledore in the middle, the candlelight glinting on his silvery beard. Next to him was Professor McGonogall, and on his other side Harry could make out the vast form of Professor Slughorn, the recently re-hired Potions master. Professors Flitwick and Sprout were clearly visible, but in the seat where Professor Snape should have sat, there was a woman who couldn’t possibly have looked less like Snape. She was a pale redhead, very clean-looking and somewhat glamorous, and she was smiling and winking at various people. Harry saw her throwing her head back frequently in laughter. He pointed her out to Ron and Hermione.

“I reckon that must be our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,” mused Ron. “She’ll be quite a drastic change from Snape, though, won’t she?”

“I can’t shake off the feeling that she looks a bit familiar…” began Harry, but just then, Professor Dumbledore stood up again, and the whole Hall went quiet.

“I wish you all a good evening,” boomed Dumbledore in a voice that echoed in the silent Hall, “and I do apologize for any distress or disquiet I may have instilled in you by appearing to have died at the end of last year. I am very touched by the magnificent funeral that was presented for me last June, which was quite enough for any man to die for. And now, a few brief start-of-term notices, before your digestive systems kick in and make you too sleepy to listen to an old man making dull announcements.

“First of all, I must inform you of an important change in staffing this year. As usual, we have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I would like to introduce to you Professor Browne, who has kindly consented to take up this post after having been believed dead for the last sixteen years. She also is the spokeswoman for the Deathly Hallows and works at the Department of Mysteries.”

The students applauded as the cheerful-looking lady that Harry had noticed before stood up before the crowd and gave a little wave. Now Harry knew why she looked so familiar; he had seen a picture of her accompanying the Daily Prophet article.

“And now, to move on to more serious matters,” continued Dumbledore (an appropriate comment, given that Professor Browne’s demeanor seemed anything but serious). “As you all know, the wizarding world is now in more danger than ever before. In an effort to have fewer close calls this year than we had last year, we have taken stronger safety measures than ever. I am sure that all of you will have noticed the new guards at the school entrance �“ I must admit that I have rather a soft spot for them after having to tolerate the dementors four years ago �“ and you will all have noticed that Mr. Filch is still searching everyone who enters and leaves the castle with his Secrecy Sensor. Furthermore, we have a number of new rules in store for this year. Students will take to each class only the materials used for that particular class. Students may not use school materials as weapons. All wands must be sanded down at the tip so that they cannot be used to threaten anybody. You may not carry any liquids or gels in your bags unless they are kept in containers of no more volume than that of a Chocolate Frog. Your bags will be checked at the door of each classroom you enter by the teacher…”

He went on this way for several more minutes as the attention of most of the students began to wander, and then said, “…but enough is enough. We must now take our minds away from thoughts of Lord Voldemort and towards getting a good night’s rest. Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the wrackspurts bite.”

Dumbledore sat down and the students began to get up. Ron and Hermione pointed the first years in the direction of Gryffindor Tower, and Harry and the other Gryffindors followed. When they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, she said, “Password?”

“Buther,” said Hermione.

“Correct. Now turn out your pockets, all of you.”

The Gryffindors turned out their pockets. The Fat Lady refused to let them in until Seamus Finnigan had thrown away his rather sharp-pointed spare quill. Then at last, Harry got into bed and tried, as Dumbledore had requested, to take his mind off the possible fate that might await him at the hands of Voldemort, and go to sleep.