A Different Story

Chapter 36

Before Harry could reply, there was a soft knock on the door and Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, came bustling in. Harry felt himself going red in the face. It was bad enough that he’d passed out, or whatever he had done, without everyone making all this fuss. "I’m fine," he said. "I don’t need anything."

"Oh, it’s you, is it?" said Madam Pomfrey, and bending down to stare closely at him. "I suppose you’ve been doing something dangerous again?"

"It was a Dementor, Poppy," said Professor McGonagall. They exchanged a dark look, and Madam Pomfrey clucked disapprovingly.

"Setting Dementors around a school," she muttered, pushing back Harry’s hair and feeling his forehead. "He won’t be the last one who collapses. Yes, he’s all clammy. Terrible things, they are, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate —"

"I’m not delicate!" said Harry crossly.

"Of course you’re not," said Madam Pomfrey absentmindedly, now taking his pulse. "What does he need?" said Professor McGonagall crisply. "Bed rest? Should he perhaps spend tonight in the hospital wing?"

"I’m fine!" said Harry, jumping up. The thought of what Draco Malfoy would say if he had to go to the hospital wing was torture. "Well, he should have some chocolate, at the very least," said Madam Pomfrey, who was now trying to peer into Harry’s eyes. "I’ve already had some," said Harry. "Professor Lupin gave me some. He gave it to all of us."

"Did he, now?" said Madam Pomfrey approvingly. "So we’ve finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies?"

"Are you sure you feel all right, Potter?" Professor McGonagall said sharply. "Yes," said Harry.

"Very well. You can go now." Professor McGonagall said. Harry went back into the corridor with Madam Pomfrey, who left for the hospital wing, muttering to herself. Then came Professor McGonagall, and the two of them made their way back down the marble staircase to the Great Hall.

Professor McGonagall went in the other direction to bring the new students, and Harry left in the direction of the great hall. When Harry went inside the great hall, it was a sea of pointed black hats; each of the long house tables was lined with students, their faces glimmering by the light of thousands of candles, which were floating over the tables in midair.

As he passed along the back of the hall, people looked around, and a few of them pointed at Harry. Had the story of his collapsing in front of the Dementor traveled that fast?

He sat down on either side of Arcturus and Hermione, who had saved him a seat. "What was all that about?" Arcturus muttered to Harry. Harry started to explain in a whisper, but at that moment, the door opened and the first years entered. He didn't want to miss Iris's sorting, so he broke off.

After many of the first years were sorted, it was finally Iris's turn. Iris went up to the chair, the hat was put on her head by Professor McGonagall, and a minute later, the hat yelled, "HUFFLEPUFF."

The table of yellow and black clapped like crazy, welcoming her with open arms.

After all of the first-year students were sorted, Professor Dumbledore stood up and started speaking. "Welcome!" said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast." Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the Dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."

He paused for a moment, then continued, "They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises. It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Head Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the Dementors," he said.

"On a happier note," he continued, "I am pleased to welcome a new teacher to our ranks this year. Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause. Only those who had been in the compartment on the train with Professor Lupin clapped hard, Harry among them. Professor Lupin looked particularly shabby next to all the other teachers in their best robes.

"Look at Snape!" Arcturus said in Harry’s ear. Professor Snape, the Potions master, was staring down the staff table at Professor Lupin. It was common knowledge that Snape wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts job, but even Harry, who hated Snape, was startled at the expression twisting his thin, sallow face. It was beyond anger: it was loathing. Snape wore that expression every time he looked at Harry.