—RIGEL, BLAISE, AND DRACO WALKED INTO THE GREAT HALL. It was now September 1st, meaning their fifth year has started.

The Entrance Hall was ablaze with torches and echoing with footsteps as the students crossed the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right, leading to the Great Hall and the start-of-term feast.

The four long house tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the starless black ceiling, which was just like the sky they could glimpse through the high windows.

Candles floated in midair all along the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall and the faces of the students talking eagerly, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other houses, eyeing one another's new haircuts and robes.

Rigel noticed people putting their heads together to whisper as he passed; he gritted his teeth and tried to act as though he neither noticed nor cared.

Nobody in the Wizarding world believed Dumbledore when he claimed that Voldemort was back, which Rigel simply loved. Meaning that Dumbledore was looking more and more like the fool he was everyday.

However, the problem was— Dumbledore had dragged Rigel's name into it, claiming that 'the-boy-who-lived believed him and was now having visions'.

If Rigel were to deny it, he could ruin Tom's plans, so he didn't even bother, even though Tom claimed that it wouldn't ruin his plans, Rigel still didn't want to risk it.

"Ignore them." Blaise comfortingly said as they sat down at the Slytherin table.

"Who's that?" asked Rigel, pointing towards the middle of the staff table.

Blaise's and Draco's eyes followed his.

They lit first upon Professor Dumbledore, sitting in his high-backed golden chair at the centre of the long staff table, wearing deep-purple robes scattered with silvery stars and a matching hat.

Dumbledore's head was inclined towards the woman sitting next to him, who was talking into his ear. She looked like somebody's maiden aunt: squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes.

Then she turned her face slightly to take a sip from her goblet and Draco saw, with a shock of recognition, a pallid, toadlike face and a pair of prominent, pouchy eyes.

"It's that Umbridge woman!" Draco whisper-shouted.

"Who?" asked Blaise and Rigel simultaneously.

"She works for Fudge! She's a nightmare. Father talked about her once." The Malfoy heir explained.

"Nice cardigan," said Blaise, smirking.

"She works for Fudge.." Rigel repeated, frowning. "What on earth's she doing here, then?"

"Dunno..."

Rigel scanned the staff table, his eyes narrowed.

"No," he muttered, "no, surely not.."

Draco and Blaise did not understand what he was talking about but did not ask; their attentions had been caught by Professor Grubbly-Plank who had just appeared behind the staff table; she worked her way along to the very end and took the seat that ought to have been Hagrid's.

That meant the first-years must have crossed the lake and reached the castle, and sure enough, a few seconds later, the doors from the Entrance Hall opened.

A long line of scared-looking first-years entered, led by Professor McGonagall, who was carrying a stool on which sat an ancient wizards hat, heavily patched and darned with a wide rip near the frayed brim.

The buzz of talk in the Great Hall faded away. The first-years lined up in front of the staff table facing the rest of the students, and Professor McGonagall placed the stool carefully in front of them, then stood back.

The first-years' faces glowed palely in the candlelight.

The whole school waited with bated breath.

Then the rip near the hat's brim opened wide like a mouth and the Sorting Hat burst into song:

"In times of old when I was new

And Hogwarts barely started

The founders of our noble school

Thought never to be parted:

United by a common goal,

They had the selfsame yearning,

To make the world's best magic school

And pass along their learning.

'Together we will build and teach!'

The four good friends decided

And never did they dream that they

Might some day be divided,

For were there such friends anywhere

As Slytherin and Gryffindor?

Unless it was the second pair

Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?

So how could it have gone so wrong?

How could such friendships fail?

Why, I was there and so can tell

The whole sad, sorry tale.

Said Slytherin, 'We'll teach just those whose ancestry is purest.'

Said Ravenclaw, 'We'll teach those whose intelligence is surest.'

Said Gryffindor, 'We'll teach all those with brave deeds to their name, '

Said Hufflepuff, 'I'll teach the lot, and treat them just the same.'

These differences caused little strife

When first they came to light,

For each of the four founders had

A house in which they might

Take only those they wanted, so,

For instance, Slytherin

Took only pure-blood wizards

Of great cunning, just like him,

And only those of sharpest mind

Were taught by Ravenclaw

While the bravest and the boldest

Went to daring Gryffindor.

Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest,

And taught them all she knew,

Thus the houses and their founders

Retained friendships firm and true.

So Hogwarts worked in harmony

For several happy years,

But then discord crept among us

Feeding on our faults and fears.

The houses that, like pillars four,

Had once held up our school,

Now turned upon each other and,

Divided, sought to rule.

And for a while it seemed the school

Must meet an early end,

What with duelling and with fighting

And the clash of friend on friend

And at last there came a morning

When old Slytherin departed

And though the fighting then died out

He left us quite downhearted.

And never since the founders four

Were whittled down to three

Have the houses been united

As they once were meant to be.

And now the Sorting Hat is here

And you all know the score:

I sort you into houses

Because that is what I'm for,

But this year I'll go further,

Listen closely to my song:

Though condemned I am to split you

Still I worry that it's wrong,

Though I must fulfil my duty

And must quarter every year

Still I wonder whether Sorting

May not bring the end I fear.

Oh, know the perils, read the signs,

The warning history shows,

For our Hogwarts is in danger

From external, deadly foes

And we must unite inside her

Or we'll crumble from within

I have told you, I have warned you ...

Let the Sorting now begin."

The Hat became motionless once more; applause broke out, though it was punctured, for the first time in Rigel's memory, with muttering and whispers.

All across the Great Hall students were exchanging remarks with their neighbours, and Rigel, clapping along with everyone else, knew exactly what they were talking about.

"I wonder if it has given any warnings before," said Rigel, looking thoughtful.

"Branched out a bit this year, hasn't it?" asked Draco, earning a nod from Blaise.

"Too right it has." Blaise said.