A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Chapter 522: Long-Awaited School Song

Chapter 522: The Long-Awaited School Anthem

As time ticked away, the Great Hall was filled with sweet scents.

Felix, contentedly placing his cutlery down, awaited the desserts after the main course. The other students in the hall were enthusiastically eating and chatting away, oblivious to the ghosts floating above their heads.

At the Gryffindor table, Harry had nearly finished eating and began to pay attention to the conversations around him. Unpleasantly, he noticed one of the whispered topics was about him—the Gryffindor House ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, had his voice drift over seven or eight seats toward Harry's ears.

"Yes, it's Harry Potter over there; you'll have plenty of chances to see him later…"

Harry didn't turn around but surmised Nick was talking to the new students at Hogwarts. He deduced they must be from wizarding families to know his name before starting school, unless the student was a prodigy like Hermione.

Dean and Seamus were loudly discussing news from Diagon Alley. Harry perked up, unable to visit this year as Mrs. Weasley had purchased all his textbooks, stationery, and potion ingredients. He had planned to visit the new merchandise at Future World in Diagon Alley, but that plan had to be scrapped.

He wondered if the Weasley twins had released their new line of protective spells…

"The shops were jam-packed, more people than usual… couldn't help it, the book list came out so late this year, everyone rushed there together. Not many were interested in stopping for a chat. I saw a few familiar faces, but they disappeared in a blink, as if something was chasing them…"

"The magical phrase books are in high demand; Mum wants to buy a few to send to relatives living abroad…"

Seamus enthusiastically shared. When he caught Harry's gaze, he grinned and spoke even louder.

"The streets had more pop-up stalls, just a cloth on the ground. Selling what? Of course, all sorts of talismans. Mum told me those are all rubbish, better off flipping through Knockturn Alley for genuine finds… She was joking, of course."n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

"That cursed place hasn't been sealed by the Aurors yet," Ron said, his mouth full, and Harry miraculously understood what he meant.

Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley were adjacent, but their reputations were poles apart. Diagon Alley, a vast wizarding commercial center, contrasted starkly with Knockturn Alley—a secluded, irregular lane with non-standard merchandise in its shops.

At that moment, a voice spoke beside him. "Excuse me, can you make some space?"

Harry jumped and turned to see a tall girl with long braids leaning toward him, barely a foot away. It was Angelina Johnson. She nudged both Harry and Ron with her fingers, successfully squeezing herself between them.

"So, how was your summer?" she asked cheerfully.

"Not bad," Harry replied, momentarily unsure of her purpose.

"Yeah, well," Angelina adjusted her hair, "I've been appointed as the Gryffindor Quidditch team captain."

"Quidditch captain," Harry repeated, then widened his eyes, exclaiming, "Quidditch?"

Angelina gave a knowing look. "Fred told me you forgot about Quidditch; I almost couldn't believe it…"

"How could I?" Harry stuttered, "I played with Cedric during the holidays." He glanced around and caught sight of the handsome face at the Hufflepuff table.

"Oh, so you're not quitting the team?" Angelina inquired, her large eyes fixed on Harry, adding pressure.

"Absolutely not. I'm counting on winning another cup," he assured her.

"That's good," Angelina sighed in relief, "I don't want to seem overly sensitive, but taking over the team feels like a huge responsibility. I understand now why Oliver was so talkative…"

"Don't imitate him," Harry hurriedly said.

Angelina chuckled.

"Anyway, I'll be off. Oh, by the way, since Oliver left, we need a new Keeper. I'm planning the trials for Friday afternoon at five; I hope all team members can make it. Okay?" she said, while Ron, eating nearby, perked up.

"No problem. Have you chosen someone yet?" Harry asked, while Ron listened intently.

"Not yet," she sighed, "I'll post the applications on the wall later." And with that, she left.

"She seems under a lot of pressure; I almost forgot about Quidditch," Hermione commented.

"Maybe all new team captains feel that way? Cedric wasn't comfortable at first either…" Harry responded, only addressing the first half of Hermione's statement.

"Do you have time, though? It's O.W.L. year, and don't forget, you promised Neville to reorganize the Dueling Club," Hermione reminded him.

"I know," Harry grumbled.

The food on the table disappeared, and after a few seconds, various desserts appeared on the plates.

Harry picked up a jam-filled doughnut, munching on it, glancing toward the teachers' table. His gaze fell first on Dumbledore, seated in the middle of the long table on a golden high-backed chair, dressed in a deep purple robe covered in silver stars, accompanied by a matching hat and gloves, resembling a misplaced lead singer of a band. On his right and left sat Professor McGonagall and Snape, respectively. McGonagall was trying a sauced strawberry, her expression not entirely pleased, while Snape squinted, responding minimally to Dumbledore's questions, lips barely moving. Flitwick and Sprout sat beside them, with Lupin and Professor Sinistra. Oddly, Lupin had abandoned his meal early, idly poking

his goblet with his wand. Professor Sinistra stared dreamily at the starlit ceiling, lost in her thoughts.

"Are they discussing the school anthem?" Hermione asked, following Harry's gaze.

"Could be. They're unusually quiet," Harry replied, swallowing his doughnut.

A minute passed, and Dumbledore suddenly stood up. The hall fell silent as everyone turned to look at the headmaster.

"Good evening, students old and new!" he began, voice carrying effortlessly across the hall.

"As a new school year begins, let us celebrate with music! The Hogwarts school anthem, written centuries ago, deserves a spirited rendition to echo through these walls once more. Our esteemed Professor Flitwick has composed a new arrangement, and we are eager to hear it. I ask for your attention and enthusiasm as we present the newly arranged Hogwarts anthem!"

The Great Hall buzzed with anticipation, and students exchanged excited whispers. Flitwick, standing at the end of the teachers' table, bowed as Dumbledore gestured for him to start.

Flitwick, tiny and exuberant, turned to the choir standing behind him, who took their positions.

As the first note floated through the air, a sense of pride and belonging surged through the hall. The anthem began—a harmony of voices, uplifting and resonating, echoing the spirit of Hogwarts itself. Dumbledore conducted with flair, his wand twirling in time with the music.

Hermione's eyes sparkled, and Ron grinned. Harry found himself unexpectedly moved, swept up in the emotions stirred by the music. The anthem ended on a triumphant note, leaving a lingering echo in the hearts of all who heard it.

The hall erupted into applause, and Dumbledore, beaming with satisfaction, gestured for everyone to enjoy their desserts and prepare for the Sorting Ceremony.

Harry sat back in his seat, the anthem's melody still echoing in his mind. He felt a surge of anticipation for the sorting, eager to welcome the new students into their respective houses.

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