Harry "Oh, right, I forgot about the giants."
Harry quickly flashed a relieved smile.
Harry "Maybe he hasn't returned yet. You know—from his mission—whatever he's been doing for Dumbledore all summer."
Ron "Yes, yes, that must be it."
Ron's voice regained confidence.
Orli's gaze swept lightly across the staff table. She spotted Snape and her heart jumped, but her eyes didn't linger on him for even a second. She passed over him at an even pace, finally settling on the most conspicuous woman at the table.
She sat directly beside Dumbledore, sporting carefully permed short curls and wearing a garish pink suit, with a horrifying enormous pink bow adorning her hair. When she affected a dainty sip of her drink, Orli glimpsed her face—pale, flaky, and wrinkled beneath excessive foundation, with two drooping eyes that bulged like a poisoned toad's.
Even more nauseating than this ghastly appearance was her insufferable demeanor. Though she looked at least forty, she deliberately displayed girlish purity, coyness, and innocence. She purposely widened her eyes, blinking as she surveyed the room, a "sweet" smile plastered at the corners of her mouth.
Harry "I've seen her at the Ministry!"
Harry whispered. He, Ron, and Hermione had all noticed this pink monstrosity that had suddenly materialized at the staff table.
Hermione "Who is she?"
Hermione asked.
Harry "She was at my hearing—clearly one of Fudge's people. I mean, she spent the entire proceeding trying to get me expelled."
Harry said with disgust.
Ron "What a lovely pink ensemble."
Ron sneered.
Hermione "She works for Fudge? Then what's she doing here?"
Hermione frowned.
Harry "Haven't the faintest idea."
Harry shook his head.
Professor Grubbly-Plank appeared at the Great Hall's entrance. She walked to the final empty seat at the staff table—the position that rightfully belonged to Hagrid. Seconds later, the hall's entrance doors opened again. A procession of first-year students filed in, each face etched with nervousness, led by Professor McGonagall. She carried a tall stool topped with that ancient Sorting Hat—patched throughout, with a wide rip near its brim.
The hall's buzzing gradually died away. The first-years formed a line facing the other students' long tables.
The entire school held its breath. Then the rip at the hat's brim opened like a mouth, and the Sorting Hat began its song. As she listened, Orli suddenly sensed something amiss. Every year the Sorting Hat composed a lengthy new song, but never before had one mentioned danger, warnings, and division. Yet listen to this year's ominous lyrics:
Though I'm destined to divide you,I fear this may not be right.Though I must fulfill my duty,Sorting new students into four houses,I worry such divisionMay lead to the collapse I dread.
Oh, recognize the danger, heed the signs,History's lessons sound their warning,Our Hogwarts faces mortal peril,External enemies circle and prowl.We must stand united within these walls,Or everything will crumble from within.
I've spoken plainly to you all,I've sounded the alarm...Now let the Sorting begin.
The Great Hall fell into stunned silence. Even the usual excited chatter among first-years had died completely. The Sorting Hat's warning hung heavy in the air like a physical presence, pressing down on every soul present.
Orli felt ice crystallize in her veins. The hat had never—never—delivered such an explicit warning. Its songs were traditionally celebratory, highlighting each house's virtues and the school's unity through diversity.
This felt like a funeral dirge.
She caught Dumbledore's eye briefly—his expression remained serene, but she detected steel beneath the calm surface. Whatever forces were gathering beyond Hogwarts' walls, the ancient magic woven into the school itself had sensed the approaching storm.
The pink-clad woman beside Dumbledore maintained her sickly sweet smile, but Orli noticed her fingers tightening around her goblet. Even Ministry officials, it seemed, couldn't ignore prophecy delivered by a thousand-year-old magical artifact.
As Professor McGonagall called the first name for sorting, Orli couldn't shake the feeling that this year would test every bond of friendship, every house loyalty, and every ounce of courage Hogwarts possessed.
The war had truly begun.
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