Two Souls

Chapter Forty Five

    The carriage ride was short and I remain quiet for the majority of it. Whilst my fellow Slytherins discuss anything and everything, my eyes stay focused on the majestic horse-like reptilians maneuvering the carriage.

My eyes stay in trance upon the strange skeletal creatures standing quietly, their white eyes gleaming.

"Are you coming or not?" Draco asks me.

"Er — yeah, I'm coming," I say quickly, and the two of us reunite with the rest of the Slytherins who are making their way to the Great Hall.

The familiar aura of the Great Hall immediately comforts me as I walk in with my classmates. The four familiar tables are neatly decorated, with ostentatious silverware set up in front of each designated seat. The Slytherin table, which was the one farthest to the left, was already bustling with cheerful students.

"Who's that?" Daphne asks, pointing towards the middle of the staff table.

A squat, short woman with curly mouse-brown hair and a fluffy pink cardigan was taking a sip from her goblet at the staff table. She has pallid, toad-like features and a pair of prominent, punchy eyes.

"That's Professor Dolores Umbridge. She works for the Ministry under Cornelius Fudge. Father says she'll be our Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor this year," Draco tells the fifth years, pleased to know information that no one else knew.

"She works for the Ministry? What is she doing here then?" I ask skeptically.

Before anyone can answer my question, Professor McGonagall steps up to the center of the hall and sets up a stool with the Sorting Hat on top of it. The sorting ritual is much more pleasant to watch now that I've already been sorted into Slytherin.

The hat takes a heavy breath, before singing its infamous sorting song. The lyrics of the song change every year but the melody remains the same.

"Abercrombie, Evan,"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The list of the names continued, until McGonagall finally finishes after calling Zeller, Rose (Hufflepuff). She picks up the hat and stool whilst Headmaster Dumbledore steadily rises to his feet.

"To our newcomers," Dumbledore says with his arm stretched wide. "Welcome! To our old hands — welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but this is not it. May the feast begin!"

An appreciative laugh rumbles through the Hall before food appears on the surface of the long tables. By now I am well aware of the superb food that the house elves in the kitchen make for us every feast.

"The Sorting song was a bunch of rubbish this year," Zabini says, taking a bite of his food. "It mentioned how it wants every house to be friends? It never goes beyond the house sortings," He says.

Pansy shudders. "I can't imagine being friends with Gryffindors. Or Hufflepuffs," She tells us.

"Amelia, you're friends with Gryffindors, right? Are they awful?" Daphne asks me seriously.

I laugh. "They are nowhere near awful," I assure her. The Slytherins can be much worse I think. "I don't think it hurts to try and be friends with everyone."

Millicent cackles. "Easy for you to say, you're already friends with everyone. Everyone already hates us," She says, gesturing to the Slytherins around her.

The rest of the conversation turns into superficial topics such as clothes and classes. It is only a short matter of time before Dumbledore rises from his seat once again, and demands our attention. He goes through some simple rules for the first years before turning his attention to everyone.

"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be teaching Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," He announces.

There was some polite, unenthusiastic applause following Dumbledore's announcement. "It's about time that oaf Hagrid got sacked," Draco comments.

"Hem, hem," Professor Umbridge says, clearing her throat. "Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome. Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say! And to see such happy little faces looking back at me!" She exclaims. "I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"

Her voice is high pitched and girly. It sounds as if she could be a child.  "The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the Wiz- arding community must be passed down through the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."

Professor Umbridge continues her extraordinarily long speech, and I notice plenty of students lose interest. Blair takes out a book, Daphne and Millicent talk animatedly to each other, and even the all polite (at least when it comes to teachers) Draco Malfoy had begun to drift off to sleep.

"The Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts this year. . . ," I say in a surprised voice to Blair.

"What?" She asks, her head still in her book.

"That's what she said in her speech," I tell her. Blair hums in response, clearly uninterested in what I have to say about the speech.

I stand up suddenly. I'm supposed to show the first years where to go! I eye the table for Draco, who has already gotten up and has started to approach the first year Slytherins.

"First years! This way!" I say, coming by Draco's side and collecting the lot of them.

The group of us trudge downstairs to the dungeon, where Draco enters the password knowingly (Pureblood), before the doors swing open.

"And this is the Slytherin common room!" I announce to the unenthused group of first years.

"Er — Amelia? When do Quidditch tryouts begin?" An eager looking first year boy with bright blue eyes asks.

"First years are not permitted to play Quidditch," Draco snarls, answering the question for me. "Your dormitories are over there. Boys to the right, girls to the left. I trust you'll be able to find your way," Hs says, sending the first years off to their dormitories.

Draco and I set off to our own dormitories, where I reunite with the fifth year Slytherin girls who are cheerfully slandering Harry Potter with an article of the Daily Prophet in their hands.

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