Three, Two, One. . . SIX!!!

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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 with the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotted about the hall and the faces of the students talking eagerly to one another, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other Houses, eyeing one another's new haircuts and robes.

It was a new year, and life had returned to Hogwarts.

Quinn tapped his fingers against the Ravenclaw long table, surrounded by his friends, who applauded for every student who nervously crawled from under the sorting hats' judgment. As he waited for the sorting ceremony to end, his eye wandered to the ancient wizard's hat, heavily patched and darned with a wide rip near the frayed brim, recalling fleetingly his own sorting experience, and wondered how things would go if he was tested now, and contemplated if he should give it another try; subconsciously his Occlumency tightened a touch.

He was interested in the sorting hat's song that it had just sung. It had branched out quite a bit this year. 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, but today, it had warned the entirety of Hogwarts about a great danger — and to stand together, be strong from within. The hat sat inside Dumbledore's office except for this one feast; it picked up all sorts of things.

The sorting ceremony ended, and Dumbledore then rose from his 'throne' 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 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, sauces, and flagons of pumpkin juice.

"Excellent," said Marcus, with a kind of groan of longing, and he seized the nearest plate of chops and began piling them onto his plate.

"You know," said Eddie, "I thought they would give both Prefect positions to the Potters, but it seemed Granger beat out the good one, a pity that the badge went to the wrong one."

Quinn looked over his shoulder towards the Gryffindor table, and from his distance, he could just make out the shine of the gold-and-red lapel pins on the two new fifth-year Gryffindor Prefects.

"Between Hermione and Ivy; the former is keener on obtaining a position of authority such as Prefect, maybe that was the deciding factor — I'm sure the decision must have been close," said Quinn, "as for Harry; I think he will revel in the position if," he stressed, "he takes on the duties responsibilities — which isn't that difficult, Prefects don't do much."

"Don't talk nonsense!" shouted his female sixth-year Prefect counterpart. "We do a lot of work!"

Quinn waved her off, "As I was saying, it's easy enough work with a lot of good perks."

When all the students had finished eating and the noise level in the hall started to creep upward again, Dumbledore got to his feet once more. Talking ceased immediately as all turned to face the headmaster. Quinn could feel Luna leaning against his shoulder, feeling pleasantly drowsy, and muttering something about her four-poster bed that awaited 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."

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four 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 Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"Who's that?" asked Marcus, pointing at Umbridge. "She seems familiar for some reason."

"It looks like you have been reading the newspapers," said Quinn faintly smiling, "she is the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, Dolores Umbridge. She has been making quite a few statements these past few months."

Quinn eyed the woman. She looked, Quinn thought, like somebody's maiden aunt: squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair and the horrible fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes. Then she turned her face slightly to take a sip from her goblet, and he saw a pallid, toadlike face and a pair of prominent, pouchy eyes.

There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause.

Dumbledore continued, "Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the —"

He broke off, looking inquiringly 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 said, "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 back 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 Quinn 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 Eddie 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.

"I do not like that woman," he voiced, "she gives me the jitters."

Umbridge 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 back at me!"

Quinn 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 excellent friends!"

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.

'Uh-huh, bring the real pink monster out,' thought Quinn.

Umbridge went onto go on and on about the Ministry, wizarding society, traditions, the noble profession of teaching, how the Ministry cares about the children as they are the future, and how they'll move forward into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited.

She sat down. Dumbledore clapped. The staff followed his lead, though Quinn noticed several of them brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping. A few students joined in, but most had been taken unawares by the end of the speech, not having listened to more than a few words of it, and before they could start applauding appropriately, Dumbledore had stood up again.

"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating," he said, bowing to her. "Now — as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held . . ."

"Yes, it certainly was illuminating," said Marcus in a low voice.

"You're not telling me you enjoyed it?" said Eddie, "That was about the dullest speech I've ever heard, and I have no problem staying up in Binns' classes."

"It explained a lot of things. Underneath all that drabble, the real meaning was quite clear — moving forward through her," Marcus pointed at Umbridge, "the Ministry will be interfering with Hogwarts."

Quinn leaned forward, not because he was interested in what Marcus was saying — he already knew all that, but he was fascinated that Marcus was able to glean the real insight from the words when most were busy laughing at her clothing and demeanor.

'I might need to change my plans for him,' thought Quinn.

There was a great clattering and banging all around them; Dumbledore had obviously just dismissed the school because everyone was standing up, ready to leave the hall. Quinn saw his female Prefect counterpart hurriedly stand up after snapping out of a conversation with her friends and look around to the crowd moving out.

"Calm down," said Quinn, smiling, "we don't have to do that anymore — we have underlings now," he turned to the newly promoted fifth-year Ravenclaw Prefects, who looked quite flustered, "time to pay for the perks you two, get on it!"

Eddie stared at the first year walked shyly up the gap between the tables, all of them trying hard not to lead the group. "I'm sure I wasn't this small when I was there age," he turned to Marcus and Quinn, "I mean they are tiny. . ."

Marcus and Quinn simply grinned at the news students and waved as they passed by and at Luna, who was sleepily walking right in between the group of said new students.

"So, I noticed that you didn't comment on Professor Umbridge," said Marcus to Quinn as they walked out of the Great hall while Eddie stuck close to Luna to make sure that she didn't decide to sleep on the floor in the middle of a corridor.

"Hmm, about what?" said Quinn.

"About why she's here," said Marcus. "All those years ago, you said to me to take in all the information, ask questions, see what's what, find the hidden truth, and then make an opinion — an informed opinion."

"And, what's your informed opinion here," said Quinn with a hint of a smile on his face.

"It's not an informed one yet; I need more to be sure, but right now," Marcus paused a smidge to think, "she's here because of all the You-Know-Who's return that Dumbledore has been saying for the entire summer. Though it's difficult for him to convince as many people what has happened because of the Ministry and Fudge's position, since Fudge believes that Dumbledore is after his job; his fears make it easier for him to believe that, rather than admit You-Know-Who is back, which would end the last fourteen years of peace."

Quinn's smile widened with every word that came out of his mouth. He was feeling absolutely delighted right now.

"You're utterly correct, Marcus," he said. "Even though Dumbledore has his strong Light faction behind him, it doesn't change the fact that Fudge sits in the Minister's chair and is thus in control."

It didn't matter how strong every faction was; the fact remained that Fudge was the Minister — he held the key to power. There was a reason the Dark faction lined Fudge's pockets even though every single house head had more influence in the relevant circles than Fudge — it was the Minister seat that allowed Fudge to roam unperturbed.

For example, if George West wanted to get something done that he couldn't get done on his own, he would need to pay bribes at various levels of the Ministry; however, if Fudge was to get a whiff of George's moves and didn't like them, he could squash them into oblivion, wasting all the efforts and resource put in. That was the reason those in high places developed politicians to not let that happen.

The only reason Fudge catered to the rich and powerful was because he wanted to get re-elected next term.

"Ministry has been using the Daily Prophet to build on what Rita Skeeter started and is portraying Harry as an attention-seeking liar and Dumbledore as a bumbling buffoon," said Marcus. "The Ministry has been doing everything they can to curb stomp Dumbledore, and it seems to be working — people are losing confidence in Dumbledore; he's reputation is taking a hit. He's been sacked from the Wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards because he's losing his marbles. . ."

"It's not only that," said Quinn, providing more facts to a motivated Marcus, "a lot of Light faction works in the Ministry as employees at different levels, which would be very good in usual circumstances, but right now, with Fudge being on a hunt, any action that opposes his stance on the situation, would be rewarded with a job termination."

James Potter and Sirius Black, even without their Wizengamot chairs and political power, held substantial influence in the Ministry because of their Senior Auror designation — people respected Aurors because the Auror cloak and badge represented the cream of the crop.

Quinn put his arm around Marcus' shoulder and continued, "But that's something out of our area. You asked me about Dolores Umbridge — how I feel about her would become clear when she starts teaching and her action as a Ministry representative-slash-mole. If she creates problems in the school, I'll switch to the 'dislike' train like you and so many others, but right now, I'm on the 'eh, whatever' train.

"But you, Marcus, should continue to think with your brain and feel with your heart. Peer into the logic and trust your instincts; they will show you what you need to know."

Marcus glanced at Quinn, "I will keep that in mind, but I still don't like that woman."

"I understand, buddy. I totally understand," said Quinn before glancing back to see Umbridge standing near her seat with a sickeningly sweet smile on her face.

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Quinn heard a knock on his office door and someone trying to open it, which didn't give because it was locked. He removed his hand from the glass wall he was in between installation — at the end of every school year, Quinn would pack up everything in his office, including the glass wall.

He looked at the doorknob, and the lock snapped unlocked with a satisfying click. "Come in," he said.

The door opened, and the chime above melodiously rang. And from outside, entered Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. The two Gryffindors saw Quinn sitting on a high chair with a ridiculously long elevation, sitting Quinn halfway up the room's height.

"See, I told you he would be here," said Harry, grinning.

Hermione could only nod as she didn't believe that Quinn would be in his office during the very first break hour in the sixth-year Ravenclaw timetable.

"Harry and Hermione, what brings you two here," asked Quinn.

Harry pointed at his Prefect lapel pin and smiled, "We were just going around talking to the Prefects from other houses — saying hello of sorts."

"That's an interesting initiative," said Quinn, jumped down from the high chair, and punched the chair with the side of his fist to cast a simple finite on the conjured chair for it to disappear. "But, you didn't need to that — every year, the Headboy and Headgirl throw a party of sorts to welcome the new fifth-year Prefects and celebrate their own promotions. . . it gets quite rowdy with the Slytherin and Gryffindor Prefects quarrel. . . . it's pretty fun."

"A party," said Hermione in disbelief.

"Hermione, despite the strict and disciplined image that many Prefects and Headboys and Headgirls try to portray and maintain, away from eyes of students; they party, share stories about the couples they catch in broom closets, hang around after curfews, and do a lot of stuff that they are responsible for stopping."

"You do it too?" asked Hermione.

"Sure, I partake in gossip when I wasn't busy, though believe it or not, I haven't given a single detention in the year I have been a Prefect." He just let them go and made sure to tell them that he was doing them a 'favor.' "I don't think anyone would take me seriously if I reprimanded them about curfew."

"So Cedric is going to throw the party this year, huh," said Harry.

"Yup, he was the shoo-in for Headboy this year," which he would have thrown even in the original timeline if he wasn't murdered, "though if you do want to develop some positive rapport, I would suggest that you can use your Tri-wizard prize money to pitch in for the party, but make sure to ask Cedric and Patricia Stimpson to see if they are fine with it and don't see it as you stealing their thunder."

". . . . That's actually a good idea," said the winning champion.

Quinn stared at Harry and asked, "You are doing it because of all the tension because of the the Dark Lord deal, aren't you?"

Harry matched eyes with Quinn before nodding, and Hermione glanced at Harry with a worrying gaze. The first day hadn't been kind to Harry with all the whispering, angry glares, and constant chatter around him.

"There was a lot of talking in the Ravenclaw, so I can only imagine what happened in Gryffindor."

"It has been not so positive," said Harry, with a hollow chuckle.

"It's going to be a tough year then, seeing that Dumbledore and the Light faction are already involved too much for them to back out now."

Harry clenched his hand. It was so unfair that no one believed him even though he had seen Voldemort with his own eyes and had almost lost his life.

"Harry," said Quinn, "I have a certain influence inside Hogwarts. . . ."

That was an understatement thought the two Gryffindors.

". . . I can't make students stop thinking the way they are thinking about you right now. But what I can do, if you would like, is to inject a series of chatter into the Hogwarts populace that would support the Dark Lord being alive. . . . it won't eliminate the ire against you, but it would lighten it up a bit, taking some pressure off you."

"I. . . I-I. . . thank you for the offer, but I would like to refuse."

"If that's your choice, then I shall respect it. But may I ask why?"

Harry took a deep breath before raising his head and standing up straighter, "I didn't lie, I saw Voldemort. . . . I — did — nothing — wrong," there was a light of determination in his eyes, "so, I don't need to mind what others think, when I know I'm right."

Quinn gazed at Harry; he wasn't expecting this answer, but it made the most sense.

"Alright then," smiled Quinn widely, "my doors would be open for you if you ever need my help."

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Quinn West - MC - First things first. . . I need to set up shop.

Marcus Belby - Reads newspaper every day - Has a keen interest in what's happening around.

Harry Potter - Gryffindor Prefect - Boy-Who-Lies. . . . by Daily Prophet.

Hermione Granger - Gryffindor Prefect - Doesn't know how to think about the parties.

Dolores Umbridge - DADA Professor - Currently on a sweet sabbatical.

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