Note: First years are not currently present as they are waiting in the antechamber to be brought in for the sorting. Please wait until you are summoned by the Headmistress to make your entrance.

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The Great Hall of Hogwarts was abuzz with whispers that ebbed and flowed through the large room as hundreds of black clad teens sat in apprehension. The room was not in its normal glory, where the thousands of magical candles and the starlit backdrop of the enchanted ceiling gave it a warm glow. Instead, the room itself seemed to conform to the general mood of the crowd it inhabited. The ceiling had already clouded over, obscuring the stars, and there were flashes of foreboding lighting and the faint rumble of thunder casting shadows on the students below. The candles flickered ominously and the light of the gibbous moon was muddled by clouds and trees. There was even a faint howling of wind that accompanied the mood in harmony, as though nature itself was warning of wicked things.

At the front, the headmistresses seat was noticeably empty, probably much to the relief of several students. It seemed that, for the first time in years, the fronts of the tables had a stigma. No one wanted to sit there in fear of being too close to the threatening lightning. They were readily and happily reserved for the first years. Only Slytherin seemed to enjoy the spectacle, and even that was debated. And at the front, in the middle of the stage, sat the Hat. The years had been unkind to it, leaving it more tattered and bruised then ever, and its presence in the middle of the foreboding scene made it look like a torture device. You could feel it in the air. It was a new year, and everything was about to change.

Ava was normally only just on time for these things. Usually, she would have been up in the dorm, re-acquainting herself with her bed and getting some of her more personal and important belongings out of her trunk. She liked to make her bed look more homely. Today was different, though. She hadn't set foot in the dormitory since she had arrived at school, instead choosing to make her way straight to the great hall.

It seemed that there was a whole new species that existed at this time, almost like a nocturnal creature finally staying awake to see what it was like during the day. When she arrived in the hall, many students had already taken their seats. She stopped at the door and let her eyes wander along the rows of students. The buzz of anticipation and fear was almost tangible.

Although the tables seemed to be filling up fast, Ava could see that the students - even the 'hardest' Slytherin students - had chosen to sit at the far end of the hall, closer to the door. Ava smirked slightly. Amateurs. she thought as she made her way purposefully along past the end of the Ravenclaw table, and down inbetween that and the Slytherin table. She arrived at the end closest to the staff table, and sat down at the very end of the bench, facing the wall and the large window. She crossed one ankle over the other, put her hands together on the table-top in a prayer-like position and stared at the wall with a stone-like expression.

No headmistress was going to intimidate her.

Josh was sitting relatively near the front at the Gryffindor table. However, he didn't trust the new headmistress one bit, even if he was a friend of her niece. Arielle Sanrk might be a good friend, that didn't mean Analiza Snark would be the same. Oh, he wouldnlt work against her yet, but he did not trust the old DoM head. Which was why, instead of being in a pocket, he had his wand in an actual holster, on hiss hip. Nice and quick to draw, if nessecary, not that he was expecting to use it tonight.

Aileen was already seated at the staff table in front of the Great Hall, watching the students arrive with nostalgia. The last time she’d been in here was when she’d graduated from Hogwarts back in 1993, as a mean and green young Slytherin ready to take on the world. Or so she’d thought. The faintest of smiles touched her lips as she noticed the whispering, excitable students avoid the staff table like dragonpox. Already, the headmistress was unpopular. This gave Aileen some comfort. The enchanted ceiling let out a clap of thunder then, making her stiffen. She narrowed her eyes at the ceiling. Did it have to do that? Did it have to announce the impending doom of the school year?

It had arrived so fast. Though Aileen had unpacked her belongings and organized her office already, she felt strangely unprepared and uncertain. When Knox had been there she was sure there was at least some level of constancy, but no one knew what the new Headmistress had in store for them.

Aileen raised her eyebrows as one brave soul sat the closest to the staff table with an unreadable expression. The girl looked like Persephone Grosvenor’s daughter, though she couldn’t remember her name at the moment. Glancing at the doors and waiting for Analiza to make her entrance, she realized she had lost her appetite.

A new day, a new year, and one step closer to leaving her beloved Hogwarts.  Only this year, Darcy was afraid she would want to leave if the Headmistress proved as evil as she seemed at the End of Year Feast.  Only this time she hoped the Headmistress wouldn't hurt anyone.  She wouldn't be allowed that, would she?  There had to be some sort of standard governing Hogwarts.  Darcy made a mental note to investigate the library for some set of rules the Headmistress had to live by, surely there would be a loophole that would let the students have fun.  She would ask some of the professors, too.  It didn't seem as if they actually liked the Headmistress either.  Well, maybe no one except Ava.  The girl was smart, but mean.  If anyone was set to be the Headmistress' lapdog, it would probably be her.  Maybe if Darcy could get Fauna and Misty in on it, they could sneak pudding into her panties or something.  The thought set Darcy to grinning, one of the few smiles in the building.

The Hufflepuff table was barely inhabited, Darcy being one of the first on the carriages towards the school.  She wasn't afraid, Darcy would certainly meet the trouble head-on.  Hogwarts was an institution in itself, independent of the Headmistress' wishes, and Darcy would help it become fun again if it was the last thing she did.  One the train she had even heard talk of how some boys rebelled against the last evil Headmasters.  It had given her some pretty good ideas, and Darcy was certain she could gather an army if need be.  As Lizzy often said, "Vive la résistance!"

Finding a spot in the middle of the second table, Darcy was pleased to be among her fellow Hufflepuffs.  As much as she loved her family, it was lovely to be back at her second home.  It was something she could never explain to her mothers, but once she was back, Darcy knew what it was.  It was the feeling of absolute friendship, of knowing that you belonged with them and there was a bond almost stronger than blood, it was a unity of ideas, one of friendship, loyalty, compassion, fortitude and above all--love.  And nothing, be they Snark or Voldemort, could take that away.  Content with her superior moral position, Darcy reached for a blueberry muffin, the sweetest she had tasted all year.

The Potioneer was afraid to get up at his usual seat, the sky frightened him so.  Sure it was all magical fluff, but that ingrained habit of staying indoors when there was lightening about was far too strong at the moment, and the fact that the new headmistress was the one and only Miss Analiza Snark only freaked him out all the more.

While after helping out at his Papa’s body shop, he would go through old Daily Prophets, learning what he could about the red-haired vixen.  All the pictures of her were nearly the same—that sexy look, the fashionable dress, the golden glint in her eye—but the text beneath those photos was ever changing.  Some praised her, some questioned her, and a good faction outright loathed the witch.  Nicodemus Gunnar, however, had yet to make up his mind.  She was quite the looker, but when she entered the castle on the last day of the last term… an electric shock went through him.  And not the good kind, either.  Or was it?

Taking two deep breaths, he snapped his goggles over his eyes, adjusted his purple elbow-length gloves, and puffed out his chest as rounded the corner from the antechamber toward the Staff Table when…!

He fell flat on his face.

Sitting in the chair designated right to his left was one of the prettiest blondes he ever did see.  Quick as a wink he had scrambled back up to his feet, dusted off his labcoat and waltzed over as gracefully as a swan, wiggling and waving his hand as the various students he knew in their seats.

Taking his seat he sat up tall and said cheerfully, “Ho, ho, HO!  You must be one of our new professors!  Which subject are you?”

The relief Graham felt upon leaving his mother's cottage was unnoticeable.  His expression was the same, his shoulders still slightly slumped as he ambled along the cottage path, out the white wicket gate.  His trunks sat stoically beside the fence with the same impartial demeanor.  His mother meant well, and they had a civil relationship, but Graham was glad to leave, even if it meant trading one tyrant for another.  The Headmistress promised to be more involved than Knox, but not in a particularly good way.  He could spot a micro-manager a mile away, and Headmistress Snark bore all the characteristics.  With a last look back, not towards the house but to his orchard, Graham bid a slight farewell before he apparated to the King's Cross Station.  He deposited his bags, waded through the children, and found a solitary compartment at the far end of the train in which to sleep away the journey. 

Six games of tag, Eleven cats and Seven silencing charms later, Graham made it to Hogwarts.  He quickly abandoned the train and made his way to the castle, ignoring the burgeoning glee of new students.  He wouldn't be responsible for them until the first class, and a small part of him hoped several of his students might be lost in the lake on their way to the castle.  Graham deposited his trunks in his own dormitory.  His first instinct was to check on the greenhouses,  but unfortunately the sorting feast always came first.  Attendance was highly encouraged, and Graham was certain it would become mandatory under the new Headmistress, however long she lasted.  It was really only a matter of time, whether Graham would be there for the next changing of the guard or not.

Graham freshened his robes before heading to the Great Hall, curious as to who else might have been hired over the summer.  There was still a good number of students, unfortunately, and Graham's grimace faltered to produce the small hint of a smile at the sight before him:  Professor Gunnar flat on his face.  It was a smile mixed with pity, memory and regret; the emotions were suppressed within an instant as he followed the 'Potions Master' to the staff table.  Graham nodded to the blonde, who he could only to hope was more intelligent than Gunnar's drool.  She was pretty, which was lovely to see, but that was all.  Graham took his position on the other side of the Headmaster's chair from the charming pair without caring to introduce himself.  If he was lucky, they wouldn't meet.  If he wasn't, it would discourage further discourse.  He only wished the monkey show would begin soon so he could get on to more important matters.

Figaro arrived, trailing after Devlin Matthews.  As the train had come closer to Hogwarts, the talk about Headmistress Snark had increased in volume and severity.  And the stormy Great Hall that greeted the students seemed to be inescabable pre-amble to an ominous year.

But Figaro Sellaphix's voice did not do much respect for the dour mood and the grim reputation Madam Snark had provided herself last term, hexing poor Sasha into silence.  He was almost shouting.

"And so my dad's all on about how the Minister of Magic fired her for torturing her interns.  I mean are you bloody kidding me, Dev? They're letting this woman around children with a temper like that?  I heard from someone in sixth year that they saw her over the summer and she was shouting at Aurors in the street, plain as day.  Can you imagine what her cauldron's made of? Having that kind of mettle to shout down full-on Aurors? Wicked.  This year's going to be sick.  I mean Greyfriar - who the hell knew what he was talking about half the time.  But this is definitely a change for the worst.  She's never even been a bloody proff-"

A sharp noise cut the short fifth year off, and he dropped into a seat at Ravenclaw, clearly jumpy.

As Fauna entered the Great Hall, her steps slowed, making her pace more sluggish than ever. She was trying to avoid being connected with Figaro Sellaphix, who had already flapped his mouth loudly in the corridors when there were no professors around to scold him. Fauna hesitantly slipped around the Hufflepuff and took a seat next to Darcy.

Fauna sighed and rested her head against Darcy’s shoulder for a few seconds. “Just remember,” she said in greeting. “We won the cup last year! And… we will… survive,” she added, partly to reassure herself. Fauna smiled at her, and then lifted her head to scan the crowd. Already, there was a new face at the staff table, though the Headmistress was absent. Fauna hoped this meant she’d changed her mind and had given the job back to Greyfriar. She smiled at Professor Bombay, the poor man who had tried to save her and Charlie from the rampaging Runespoor a few months ago, and giggled at Professor Gunnar, who made his entrance by falling flat on his face.

Fauna watched him for a moment, and then nudged Darcy. “Look! Professor Gunnar’s trying to flirt!” She whispered, grinning in amusement as he made a beeline for the blonde woman at the table, who looked as though she was trying not to laugh.

Just when Aileen stifled a yawn, wondering when this feast would start, entertainment arrived in the form of a man donned in a lab coat. He was hard to miss, with the goggles and the purple gloves, and the way the students laughed and waved at him. Aileen raised her eyebrows, trying to recall where she’d seen him before. Recognition began to sink in, but then the professor glanced at the staff table and fell face forward.

Her eyebrows shot up ever higher. Aileen glanced at the other professor, who appeared amused, and then at the students, some of whom were doubled over laughing. No one was too concerned. Apparently this was a common occurrence!

The man waved happily at his audience and took a seat next to her. What did he just call her? Ah, it was only one of his greetings.

“Ancient Runes,” she answered smoothly, giving him a polite, though cool, smile. “You must be Nicodemus Gunnar.” There was none other! “Aileen Reid,” she introduced herself, extending a hand for him to shake.

An uncomfortable, strange feeling rose up inside her, though it was not Professor Gunnar’s fault. She was remembering all the times she’d gone out of her way to be cruel towards certain students, when she’d been a student at Hogwarts. Though Ophelia Grimlish had been victim number one, Nicodemus Gunnar had certainly been the runner-up!
 

After the fiasco on the train Astrid was not in as bright of a mood as she had anticipated herself to be being that she was now at Hogwarts. Still the feast was always an interesting experience due to being separated from her best friend, Charlie being in Hufflepuff and all. Still the excitement of returning to Hogwarts was hard to ignore when it was in mass at the opening feast and that was what Astrid was counting on.

With all her things to be deposited in their dorms Astrid felt much lighter, of course her wand was tucked into the pocket her mother had stitched into her school robes. She learnt when you were so avid about causes it was best to be armed with your best weapon, and other than words it was her wand. So the purple coloured wand was hidden away from view just incase a repeat of the train were to happen, of course the likelihood of that was extremely slim being that the opening feast was so populated with Professors.

Admittedly it would be strange to see the headmaster chair filled with a woman than the unmistakable stature of Greyfrair. For the moment it was empty, though the professors’ spots were filling up quickly. There were many new faces, but Astrid welcomed new talent and a fresh outlook.

Finally Astrid took a seat midway down the Ravenclaw table, alone. She was definitely going to stand out with her hair. She sat looking around as she played with one of her dreads searching out a friendly Ravenclaw face. The feast was time for catching up, not for petitioning a cause.

Isaac wasn't entirely what to expect from the coming year with a new Headmistress and new faces on the staff.  It felt good to be back though, it meant he had successfully managed to evade his publisher's requests that he return to the field.  He had attended his final meeting just two days prior and was extremely proud of himself for making it quite clear that if they wanted another book it would have to be based on research he could do in England.

That had not gone over well.  His favorite moment was when his publisher told him that the only reason his first book had sold so well was because women throughout the Wizarding world had been  able to envision him on location in Africa as they read the book.  Apparently they cared nothing for the academic value of his work...in the end tough he had somehow managed to win out.

Entering the great hall, he saw two new staff members and the familiar face of the potions professor.   Deciding it better to stay near familiar people he moved to take a seat on the other side of the blond woman, knowing he would be able to talk to Nicodemus and hopefully Morrigan would soon join the feast as well.  The scowling man on the other side of the table didn't seem like much for conversation.

"Aileen Reid”

Catching the introduction, he said as he seated himself, "I hope this seat isn't taken, Professor Reid.  I'm Isaac Fraiser, Muggle Studies."  Looking for at Nicodemus he added, "Good to see you again, Gunnar."  As he said it he tried not to remember the fashion show the previous year and the outfits he had seen.

When he was a student at Red Rocks in Sedona he was never on time for the opening feast, or as they called it the "Home Coming Meal".  Most of them called it torture, since the head of the school made them listen to hours of speeches about decorum and ethics.  

Tonight he was wearing his teaching robes, black with amethyst edging, and black silk lining. He was wearing one of the three new suits he had bought at Harrods, this one being the mid-range suit.  He was shocked since it had been ages since he had bought a suit at how much the prices had increased.  This being an even charcoal grey with a three-button vest and amethyst lined jacket.  That had been applied by a quick color changing charm as the rust color that had originally been there just wasn't in the family colors.

The only thing that gave him away as being anything less than polished was the pair of black converse running shoes he wore, a carry over from an earlier meeting with Morrigan in Diagon Alley back in June.  The laces were hot pink.

Kendall Fleetfoot, Master and Professor of Charms stood at the top of the great staircase looking down with some trepidation.  He had only crossed this threshold once before as a professor and that was last year's leaving feast.  The one where Knox Greyfriar, the one who had just hired him to the post stepped down.  Now he was going into unknown territory, both professionaly, and emotionally.

He had been a young first year sorted to Gryffindor to be parted from the fiery red headed Aiene McDuffy of Slythern.  They had broken the unwritten house rules to be together, at least for the two months before Kendall was dragged to Sedona Arizona.  That was where he had met and become adversary to Morrigan Ramsay.  Now he stood waiting to see her either decend the stairs toward him, or enter from below.  He felt like he was again a nervous first year waiting to be sorted, not knowing what was to come.

"Okay Fleetfoot, Let's get on with this." He said aloud hoping to convince himself.  Slowly he began the steady descent down the stairs, his mind not on the motion but on the end goal.  He was making clear progress, picking up speed slightly and still not paying attention to the treads as he moved.  He was only steps from the bottom when a movement, and a voice clearing caused him to jerk his head sideways, and his foot to miss the next step.

Hands flailing Kendall's feet slipped along the stairs, the speed increasing as he lost balance, tripped forward and tucked into a roll at the last moment.  Of course momentum and neuton's laws of the physical world being what they are, he continued to roll until the energy gained was expelled, leaving him in a mess of robes tangled around his arms and legs in the center of the doors to the great hall.

"Ow!"

Dressed in her teaching robes Morrigan was trying desperately not to fuss as she made her way down the stairs to towards the great hall.  Not only were there several changes to the staff this year, but she would surely be seeing Kendall every day.  She was excited and nervous about the prospect at the same time.  Surely the fragile truce between them wasn't meant to last.  She was still amazed at how much time they had actually managed to spend within a few feet of each other without bodily harm being inflicted.

She usually detested these events.  It was tradition, of course, but each year th students seemed to get younger and younger.  It was often difficult to believe that the Seventh Years would be graduating in May and off to live adult lives in the outside world.  It all made her feel a bit old sometimes, and the fact that her fortieth birthday was quickly approaching didn't help matters.

As she rounded the corner her eyes found Kendall just as he was beginning to descend the stairs to the great hall.  Starting her own descent she couldn't possibly hope to catch up with him without doing something completely ungraceful.  So instead she decided to call out to him in hopes of being able to speak for a moment or two before joining the growing madness within the confines of the Great Hall.

"Kandall," she began, "wait..."

She never finished the statement as she watched him lose his balance and then roll down the remaining steps towards the Great Hall.  He finally came to a stop just inside the doors and Morrigan felt herself panic a bit that he might be injured.  Moving as quickly as she could, she descended the stairs, rushing to where he had stopped.

"Are you alright?" she asked, the concern clear in her town and expression.

Not only was the professorship at Hogwarts lacking, it was downright pitiful. Only a couple of people along the row of teachers could even be considered slightly competent as witches and wizards, much less as instructors in such a fine institute. It was a short walk from her first floor classroom down to the Great Hall, though Jacqueline took it slowly, with no desire to reach the great eating cafeteria hurryingly. If she was late, so what? It’s not like anyone could fire her, well, other than Professor Snark, and Jacqueline felt that Analiza wouldn’t mind a bit if she slipped in a little late.

Tonight she was clad in a striking black dress with elbow length black leather gloves. Her hair was gorgeous and her makeup was pristine. The only thing spoiling the elderly woman’s vision of perfection was the scowl upon her face. She felt that that little frown would be permanent upon her features before long. Children. Even the word seemed to send chills down the woman’s spine. Then, the teachers. Ugh. Atop the raised platform where the professors dined were two people that Jacqueline had hoped to never see again.

Early in the summer Jacqueline had found that she wasn’t going to get along with some of the Hogwarts professors. Fleetfoot and Reid. The scowl turned into an all out grimace as she made her way to the table, her heels clicking audibly as she strode. There was no need to speak to anyone, she didn’t care to get to know all the professors there, at least not right away, and the ones she already knew, she despised. She grabbed an ornately carved chair and sat, perfect posture, to await the feast’s beginning.