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 jighting
	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 / must fulfil my duty
	And must quarter everv 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 Harry's memory, with muttering and whispers. All across 
	the Great Hall students were exchanging remarks with their neighbours, and Harry, 
	clapping along with everyone else, knew exactly what they were talking about.
	'Branched out a bit this year, hasn't it?' said Ron, his eyebrows raised.
	Too right it has,' said Harry.
	The Sorting Hat usually confined itself to describing the different qualities 
	looked for by each of the four Hogwarts houses and its own role in Sorting them. 
	Harry could not remember it ever trying to give the school advice before.
	'I wonder if it's ever given warnings before?' said Hermione, sounding slightly 
	anxious.
	'Yes, indeed,' said Nearly Headless Nick knowledgeably, leaning across Neville 
	towards her (Neville winced; it was very uncomfortable to have a ghost lean 
	through you). The Hat feels itself honour-bound to give the school due warning 
	whenever it feels -
	But Professor McGonagall, who was waiting to read out the list of first-years' 
	names, was giving the whispering students the sort of look that scorches. Nearly 
	Headless Nick placed a see-through finger to his lips and sat primly upright 
	again as the muttering came to an abrupt end. With a last frowning look that 
	swept the four house tables, Professor McGonagall lowered her eyes to her long 
	piece of parchment and called out the first name.
	'Abercrombie, Euan.'
	The terrified-looking boy Harry had noticed earlier stumbled forwards and 
	put the Hat on his head; it was only prevented from falling right down to his 
	shoulders by his very prominent ears. The Hat considered for a moment, then 
	the rip near the brim opened again and shouted:
	'Gryffindor!'
	Harry clapped loudly with the rest of Gryffindor house as Euan Abercrombie 
	staggered to their table and sat down, looking as though he would like very 
	much to sink through the floor and never be looked at again.
	Slowly, the long line of first-years thinned. In the pauses between the names 
	and the Sorting Hat's decisions, Harry could hear Rons stomach rumbling loudly. 
	Finally, 'Zeller, Rose' was Sorted into Hufflepuff, and Professor McGonagall 
	picked up the Hat and stool and marched them away as Professor Dumbledore rose 
	to his feet.
	Whatever his recent bitter feelings had been towards his Headmaster, Harry 
	was somehow soothed to see Dumbledore standing before them all. Between the 
	absence of Hagrid and the presence of those dragonish horses, he had felt that 
	his return to Hogwarts, so long anticipated, was full of unexpected surprises, 
	like jarring notes in a familiar song. But this, at least, was how it was supposed 
	to be: their Headmaster rising to greet them all before the start-of-term feast.
	To our newcomers,' said Dumbledore in a ringing voice, his arms stretched 
	wide and a beaming smile on his lips, 'welcome! To our old hands - welcome back! 
	There is a time for speech-making, but this is not it. Tuck in!'
	There was an appreciative laugh and an outbreak of applause as Dumbledore 
	sat down neatly and threw his long beard over his shoulder so as to keep it 
	out of the way of his plate - for food had appeared out of nowhere, so that 
	the five long tables were groaning under joints and pies and dishes of vegetables, 
	bread and sauces and flagons of pumpkin juice.
	'Excellent,' said Ron, with a kind of groan of longing, and he seized the 
	nearest plate of chops and began piling them on to his plate, watched wistfully 
	by Nearly Headless Nick.
	'What were you saying before the Sorting?' Hermione asked the ghost. 'About 
	the Hat giving warnings?'
	'Oh, yes,' said Nick, who seemed glad of a reason to turn away from Ron, 
	who was now eating roast potatoes with almost indecent enthusiasm. 'Yes, I have 
	heard the Hat give several warnings before, always at times when it detects 
	periods of great danger for the school. And always, of course, its advice is 
	the same: stand together, be strong from within.'
	'Ow kunnit nofe skusin danger ifzat?' said Ron.
	His mouth was so full Harry thought it was quite an achievement for him to 
	make any noise at all.
	'I beg your pardon?' said Nearly Headless Nick politely, while Hermione looked 
	revolted. Ron gave an enormous swallow and said, 'How can it know if the school's 
	in danger if it's a Hat?'
	'I have no idea,' said Nearly Headless Nick. 'Of course, it lives in Dumbledore's 
	office, so I daresay it picks things up there.'
	'And it wants all the houses to be friends?' said Harry, looking over at 
	the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy was holding court. 'Fat chance.'
	'Well, now, you shouldn't take that attitude,' said Nick reprovingly. 'Peaceful 
	co-operation, that's the key. We ghosts, though we belong to separate houses, 
	maintain links of friendship. In spite of the competitiveness between Gryffindor 
	and Slytherin, I would never dream of seeking an argument with the Bloody Baron.'
	'Only because you're terrified of him,' said Ron.
	Nearly Headless Nick looked highly affronted.
	Terrified? I hope I, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, have never been guilty 
	of cowardice in my life! The noble blood that runs in my veins -'
	'What blood?' asked Ron. 'Surely you haven't still got -?'
	'It's a figure of speech!' said Nearly Headless Nick, now so annoyed his 
	head was trembling ominously on his partially severed neck. 'I assume I am still 
	allowed to enjoy the use of whichever words I like, even if the pleasures of 
	eating and drinking are denied me! But I am quite used to students poking fun 
	at my death, I assure you!'
	'Nick, he wasn't really laughing at you!' said Hermione, throwing a furious 
	look at Ron.
	Unfortunately, Ron's mouth was packed to exploding point again and all he 
	could manage was 'Node iddum eentup sechew,' which Nick did not seem to think 
	constituted an adequate apology. Rising into the air, he straightened his feathered 
	hat and swept away from them to the other end of the table, coming to rest between 
	the Creevey brothers, Colin and Dennis.
	'Well done, Ron,' snapped Hermione.
	'What?' said Ron indignantly, having managed, finally, to swallow his tood. 
	'I'm not allowed to ask a simple question?'
	'Oh, forget it,' said Hermione irritably, and the pair of them spent the 
	rest of the meal in huffy silence.
	Harry was too used to their bickering to bother trying to reconcile them; 
	he felt it was a better use of his time to eat his way steadily through his 
	steak and kidney pie, then a large plateful of his favourite treacle tart.
	When all the students had finished eating and the noise level in the Hall 
	was starting to creep upwards again, Dumbledore got to his feet once more. Talking 
	ceased immediately as all turned to lace the Headmaster. Harry was feeling pleasantly 
	drowsy now. His lour-poster bed was waiting somewhere above, wonderfully warm 
	and soft:
	'Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few 
	moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices,' said Dumbledore. 
	'First-years ought to know that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to 
	students - and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too.' (Harry, 
	Ron and Hermione exchanged smirks.)
	'Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the lour-hundred-and-sixty-second 
	time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, 
	nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive 
	list now fastened to Mr Filch's office door.
	'We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome 
	back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; 
	we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defence Against 
	the Dark Arts teacher.'
	There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause, during which 
	Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged slightly panicked looks; Dumbledore had not 
	said for how long Grubbly-Plank would be teaching.
	Dumbledore continued, Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place 
	on the -'
	He broke off, looking enquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much 
	taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why 
	Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Professor Umbridge cleared her throat, 
	'Hem, hem,' and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending 
	to make a speech.
	Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, then he sat down smartly 
	and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better 
	than to listen to her talk. Other members of staff were not as adept at hiding 
	their surprise. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway 
	hair and Professor McGonagall's mouth was as thin as Harry had ever seen it. 
	No new teacher had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. Many of the students 
	were smirking; this woman obviously did not know how things were done at Hogwarts.
	Thank you, Headmaster,' Professor Umbridge simpered, 'for those kind words 
	of welcome.'
	Her voice was high-pitched, breathy and little-girlish and, again, Harry 
	felt a powerful rush of dislike that he could not explain to himself; all he 
	knew was that he loathed everything about her, from her stupid voice to her 
	fluffy pink cardigan. She gave another little throat-clearing cough ('hem, hem') 
	and continued.
	'Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!' She smiled, revealing 
	very pointed teeth. 'And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!'
	Harry glanced around. None of the faces he could see looked happy. On the 
	contrary, they all looked rather taken-aback at being addressed as though they 
	were five years old.
	'I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll 
	be very good friends!'
	Students exchanged looks at this; some of them were barely concealing grins.
	'I'll be her friend as long as I don't have to borrow that cardigan,' Parvati 
	whispered to Lavender, and both of them lapsed into silent giggles.
	Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again ('hem, hem'), but when she continued, 
	some of the breathiness had vanished from her voice. She sounded much more businesslike 
	and now her words had a dull learned-by-heart sound to them.
	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 wizarding community must be passed down the generations 
	lest we lose them for ever. 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.'