The War Hammer of Hogwarts - Harry Potter

New Teachers

We didn't talk much during the remainder of the journey.  At long last, the train stopped at Hogsmeade station, and there was a great scramble to get outside.  Owls hooted, cats meowed, and Neville's pet toad croaked loudly from under his hat. It was freezing on the tiny platform, rain was driving down in icy sheets.  I handed Pieck my jacket.

Pieck: YN, you'll freeze!

YN: I'll be fine, Pieck.  Take it.

She hesitantly took the jacket and put it on, grinning at me.

Hagrid: Firs' years this way!

We turned and saw the gigantic outline of Hagrid at the other end of the platform, beckoning the terrified looking new students forward for their traditional journey across the lake.

Hagrid: All righ', you six?

We waved at him, but had no chance to speak to him because the mass of people around us was shunting us away along the platform.  My friends and I followed the rest of the school along the platform and out onto a rough mud track, where at least a hundred stagecoaches awaited the students, each pulled, I could only assume, by an invisible horse, because when we climbed inside and shut the door, the coach set off all by itself, bumping and swaying in procession.  The coach smelled faintly of mold and straw.  As the carriage trundled toward a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars, we saw two more towering, hooded dementors, standing guard on either side.  Harry leaned back into the lumpy seat and closed his eyes until they had passed the gates.  The carriage picked up speed on the long, sloping drive up to the castle.  Hermione was leaning out of the tiny window, watching the many turrets and towers draw nearer.  At last, the carriage swayed to a halt, and we got out.  As Harry stepped down, a drawling, delighted voice sounded in our ears.

Malfoy: You fainted, Potter?  Is Longbottom telling the truth?  You actually fainted?

Malfoy elbowed past Hermione to block Harry's way up the stone steps to the castle, his face gleeful and his pale eyes glinting maliciously.

YN: Fuck off, Malfoy, or I'll throw you at a dementor.

Malfoy: Did you faint as well, Weasley?  Did the scary old dementor frighten you too, Weasley?

Lupin: Is there a problem?

Uncle Remus had just gotten out of the next carriage.  Malfoy gave Professor Lupin an insolent stare, which took in the patches on his robes and the dilapidated suitcase.

Malfoy: Oh, no... er Professor.

Then he smirked at Crabbe and Goyle and led them up the steps into the castle.  Hermione prodded Ron in the back to make him hurry, and the six of us joined the crowd swarming up the steps, through the giant oak front doors, into the cavernous entrance hall, which was lit with flaming torches and housed a magnificent marble staircase that led to the upper floors.  The door into the Great Hall stood open at the right.  We followed the crowd toward it, but had barely glimpsed the enchanted ceiling, which was black and cloudy tonight, when a voice called out.

McGonagall: Tybur!  Grice!  Potter!  Granger!  I need to speak with you!

We turned around, surprised.  Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration teacher, head of Gryffindor House, and my godmother was calling over the heads of the crowd.  She was a stern looking witch who wore her hair in a tight bun.  Her sharp eyes were framed with square spectacles.  We fought our way over to her with a feeling of foreboding.  Professor McGonagall had a way of making us feel we must have done something wrong, even when we hadn't.

McGonagall: There's no need to look so worried, I just want a word in my office.  Move along there, Weasley.

Ron stared as Professor McGonagall ushered us away from the chattering crowd.  We accompanied her across the entrance hall, up the marble staircase, and along a corridor.  Once we were in her office, a small room with a large welcoming fire, Professor McGonagall motioned us to sit down.  She settled herself behind her desk.