As I added last chapter for anyone who noticed, due to plot issues I felt I needed to change the year from third to fifth, so not much Lupin :(, but plenty of Umbridge. I apologize if that confuses anyone, though I did edit a few conversations in the like in the last two chapters to fit properly. It's not much, but it's a thing for those who wish to reread it.

Also, for some reason I keep wanting to change Jellal's last name from Fernandes to Ferdinand. It's sort of frustrating.
Lastly, I don't own Umbridge's speech or other such things.

"A teacher?"Jellal stared down at the remarkably short professor, who sat beaming at him from across the table. Lately, more and more teachers had been slowly trickling in, arriving at the grounds in preparation for the upcoming school term.

Filius Flitwick smiled brightly at the befuddled expression on the younger man. "Why yes! I've heard you use foreign magic, yes?" He inquired, a still delighted expression on the half-goblin's face. "Would it not be a wonderful class to teach? The students would love it for sure!" He proclaimed, and Jellal tried to hold back the grimace threatening to form on his face.

"My magic isn't the kind you can teach." He replied slowly, mind whirling with explanations and history he'd memorized over the past few days. "It's… hereditary." He clarified, and the smile twisted in confusion.

"Hereditary? I haven't heard of such a thing before." Flitwick muttered, and the blue-haired mage hurried to cover his tracks, to make them more reliable.

He laughed nervously, waving his hand in a somewhat dismissive manner. "Well, it's like when squibs are born or when a wizard marries a h—muggle. The magic doesn't always pass on, correct? My magic works in a similar way, though I agree it's not very common."

The inquisitive look on the professor's face disappeared at these words, and he nodded as if they made sense to him, despite Jellal having trouble understanding his own words. "Of course, of course. That makes sense, I suppose." He murmured, nodding some more. The taller of the two sighed silently in relief.

A period of silence passed over them as they turned back to their plates and continued eating. There was only a few of them there, the Headmaster absent for some business and Hagrid off to take care of his own things. Seemingly uncomfortable by the silence, one of the other teachers spoke up.

"Have you heard of the news that's been going around yet? It seems Sirius Black has attacked another muggle family again!" She exclaimed, blushing in embarrassment as her voice bounced on the cavernous walls. Charity, Jellal finally realized. Her name was Charity.

Her words sparked a loud bout of controversy in the Great Hall, many of the professors proclaiming their lament whilst others criticized the Ministry and even Dumbledore. Jellal stayed quiet, only hearing vaguely of the incident from newspapers and not knowing enough about the man to really have an opinion or judgment.

He noticed another man staying equally as quiet; a long, hooked nose with oily black hair that hung down limply around his head. A scowl seemed to be set in the man's face permanently, though at times it would be deeper and more prominent than at others. Beady black eyes met his from down the table for a moment, before turning away again.

"What do you think, Jellal?" He jumped slightly at the sound of his name, turning towards the kindly woman looking at him with expectant, large brown eyes.

"I-I'm sorry, what did you say?" The dimension-hopping man asked, and the woman—Charity—giggled.

"What do you think about You-Know-Who? Do you believe he's really back?" She elaborated, and Jellal made a quiet sound of acknowledgement.

"I… can't really say." He replied hesitantly, and those beady black eyes turned to him again, narrowing. "He's not really... a prevalent figure where I'm from." He replied, shrugging.

He was still working through the (rather long) history of the wizarding community, so he hadn't gotten around to studying the events of the past twenty or so years. He only just finished the goblin wars, but Jellal figured he should spend these last few weeks catching up on their recent events and local creatures. Perhaps during the school year he could sit in on a few classes. And if he recalled, Minerva did say something about a newspaper…

His response, however, seemed to have elicited an almost overdramatic, collective gasp from the others. "Oh, you lucky man!"

"Where did you come from?!"

"Your home sounds a hell of a lot better than here."

"What kind of place is this?"

The outburst of questions from the other teachers sparked another topic entirely, one that Jellal wasn't very comfortable with.

"Where are you from, Mr. Fernandes?" The voice that spoke was unlike the others, a dry sneer with a penchant for getting under your skin. It silenced the others, and when Jellal looked up to meet beady black eyes, he wondered how anyone could have such respect for this man. Perhaps it was fear.

"You are?" He returned, keeping the snap out of his words. It wasn't entirely fair to judge the man based just on the impression of his voice and eyes. He knew from experience that appearances could be deceiving.

"Severus Snape." The dark-haired man returned, not bothering to hide his annoyance. "Where did you say you were from?"

"Magnolia." The skeptical sneer he received in return said more than enough.

Before anyone could question him further, however, Minerva came to his rescue. "Charity, have you met the new professor yet?"

He sent the proud woman a grateful look as Severus glanced at him distastefully. Albus had decided it best to hide his… 'true identity' from the rest of the teachers, for the sake of simplicity. And because some couldn't keep a secret.

The days passed rather quickly after that, with Jellal avoiding Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore while being frequently bothered by the other teachers. Amidst all this he spent much of the free time he had left reading everything from the newspapers to muggle fairy tales. He found the latter topic particularly interesting, as it was interesting to see the difference between what regular civilians thought was magic compared to the reality. He found it even more amusing to compare those to his own world and magic.

Nonetheless, September First came relatively quickly, and it wasn't long before Jellal found himself being dressed in ridiculous, long blue robes that smelled too musty to be new. Underneath he stubbornly wore the dark, formfitting shirt he'd worn upon arriving here, as well as the same boots and trousers. It had taken Minerva nearly an hour to get him to take off the plated armor.

"Oh, you look marvelous!" Charity had cried out upon seeing him, clapping her hands together in satisfaction. She appeared to have dressed herself up more than usual, her brown heels somehow working well with the earthen green robes that draped themselves over her arms. Her springy auburn hair was brighter than usual, and with the small amount of makeup, she looked almost ten years younger.

She dragged him through the hall and down the large steps, heels clicking along the stone floors. The sound made the mage wonder how women could move so quickly in those.

The Great Hall was far different than he was used to. The first thing he noticed were the four, extremely long tables in the center of the room. They were flanked on either side by benches just as long, and made of the same dark, rich brown-colored wood.

The enchanted ceiling showcased a beautiful sunset, and just underneath floated hundreds of candles that lit up the room in a soft glow. He gazed up at them, wondering briefly how they kept wax from dripping onto the people below.

At the other end of the Hall was a smaller table, where instead of benches there were a series of chairs. When he counted them, there were enough for each staff member. The center chair, which he presumed was for the Headmaster, stood taller than the rest.

Before the Staff Table stood a podium… of sorts. It was bronze in color; the base was intricate, though from across the Hall, he couldn't make out any details. The top of the podium was a bird, what looked to be an owl, its wings spread to take flight.

At the Staff Table, already there sat several professors, including Severus Snape, Filius Flitwick, and Pomona Sprout. They sat chatting amiably amongst each other, a few waving genially as Charity dragged Jellal towards two empty seats at one end of the table. The moment they were seated she began speaking in an almost excited manner.

"I know you haven't met Sybill yet. She's right over there." The woman to whom she was referring to sat on the opposite end of the table, speaking to a somewhat hassled-looking Pomona. She was wiry, a tall and thin figure that looked as if she was drowning in the flowing dress and airy-like shawl she wore. Her eyes seemed unnaturally large, though Jellal chalked that particular trait up to the large round glasses she wore. "Sybill Trelawney, the Divination professor. She's… strange, but I suppose you'll have to see for yourself."

"Where are Minerva and Hagrid?" Jellal asked, noting the two empty chairs.

Charity beamed, obviously into the topic he had just opened up. "Oh, they're out to help with the students! Well, Minerva is. Hagrid will be out for awhile, apparently, so he can't do it this year. But it's a great tradition, really. Hagrid gathers all the first years to a series of small boats, so they get the best first view of the castle! Really, someday you should ask Hagrid to take you, when he gets back, of course. It's right across the lake as well, truly wonderful, especially during the day!"

"What about Minerva? Where does she come in?"

Charity giggled. "She conducts the Housing Ceremony. Oh, that'll be a joy for you to watch as well." Jellal raised an eyebrow, but the Muggle Studies Professor refused to elaborate.

The conversation devolved into idle chatter after that, as the remaining teachers—with the exception of Minerva and Hagrid—filed in one by one. Jellal couldn't help but note absently, after even the Headmaster had sat down, that aside from the two dealing with the first years, there was another seat that remained empty.

Before he could delve much into it, however, the sun finally disappeared into the sky, and the chatter mounted. Jellal watched with interest as, with the wave of a wand, Albus summoned a stool that stood before the podium, what looked to be a raggedy old hat perched atop.

The mage raised an inquisitive eyebrow, looking to Charity on his right. She smiled brightly at him. "It's for the Housing Ceremony," was all she said in explanation. Jellal sighed, but didn't question her further. He would find out soon enough, it seemed.

As he'd been told, a few more minutes and a lone woman stepped daintily within, a wide smile on her bright red lips that stretched her boxy, wrinkled face in a manner the mage found reminiscent to a toad. Her thick, though obviously fake, lashes fluttered in his general direction, and he couldn't help but shudder at the leer in those blue eyes. Her outfit was hideously pink, the outfit all the same shade aside from the frills that decorated it, which were simply a darker shade. Atop her impeccably curled honey-brown hair was a hat the same shade and design as the frills.

She smiled brightly as she took the empty seat to Jellal's left, nodding and greeting the other professors. Upon seeing the mage beside her, however, she paused, and if it was possible, the ex-Saint swore her expression became even brighter and shallower.

"Why, hello there, I didn't see you." Her voice was honey-sweet, practically dripping with the substance, but it was simultaneously so faked the sound actually hurt to listen to. "Dolores Umbridge, the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic." She held out a pert hand, which Jellal took somewhat awkwardly.

"Jellal Fernandes. It's nice to meet you." Dolores beamed falsely at him, and opened her mouth to presumably question him, though before she could say anymore; the older students began filing in, chatting loudly with each other as they separated to sit at one of the four tables.

Jellal sat back, gazing around the room and watching, grateful for the distraction. He noticed the different colors that decorated the uniforms of every student, and how each student sat with their own color. He figured it must have something to do with the 'Houses' he'd read about; something he'd figure out soon enough.

It was as he was gazing amongst the students that he recognized the dark head and round glasses of Harry Potter. His uniform was trimmed with red and gold, and he spoke closely with two other students as they sat down. They were peering up at the Staff Table and whispering, and when Jellal caught Harry's eye, he couldn't help the sardonic upwards twitch of his lips. It seemed he wouldn't be able to escape the brat that easily.

Harry stared in shock for a moment before his dumbfounded expression hardened. The man had smirked at him. Granted, he'd forgotten that the strange man had said he'd be working at Hogwarts, but for some reason the man rubbed him the wrong way. He didn't trust Jellal Fernandes.

The fifth year was broken out of his thoughts as an elbow nudged him in the side. "Harry, what are you looking at?" Hermione leaned over towards him, her eyes glancing in a furtive manner towards the Staff Table before returning back to him.

"Is it the guy with the blue hair? Cause I agree he's awfully weird." Ron piped in, staring without any of the discretion Hermione was using. "I mean, who gets a tattoo on his face and turns his hair blue? Aside from Tonks, of course."

"Maybe he had an accident with a hex or a potion recently." The frizzy-haired brunette sniffed disdainfully. "You shouldn't judge people based on appearances, Ronald."

Harry sighed at his friends' antics. "It's not that. I've met him before." He explained, but before he could elaborate further, the first years all filed in behind McGonagall. He sighed again and sat back, ignoring both Ron's and Hermione's curious looks as he turned his full attention to the front, where Professor McGonagall had just set the Sorting Hat down on the stool.

His eyes strayed back towards where Jellal sat next to Umbridge, his eyes holding an intense, unhidden curiosity directed towards the hat.

The hat's seam of a mouth ripped open once more, and the moment the song began, the blue-haired stranger nearly toppled over in his seat, and Harry bit back a laugh.

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 someday 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, so I can tell
The whole sad, sorry tale.

Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those
Whose ancestry's 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
Maintained 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 dueling and with fighting
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 I must fulfill my duty
and must quarter every 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.

While Jellal admitted that the Hat had startled him immensely at first, he found quickly that it was of great intelligence, and not at all uncommon here. He could sense from where he sat the intensely powerful, ancient magic woven into the Hat, so much so that he dared to say it might even come close to Erza in terms of sheer magical power. He knew it was probably impossible now, but it made him want to meet the creator—or creators, he added—of the Hat.

Through the beginning of the song, he had surmised that it was something that had happened before, and often it seemed, as none of the students or staff seemed surprised by it, aside from the first years and him, of course. It was at the end of the song, however, that he wondered if that assumption was wrong.

Everyone seemed stunned to silence, and it was only after several moments that the crowd belatedly began clapping. He stared at the hat for several moments longer, wondering about the warning it had given. That was probably the unusual thing here. He mused, shaking himself out of his thoughts as Minerva called out the first name on the parchment she held before her.

"Ashton, Brianne." A small redheaded girl skipped up to the stool, plopping down on it as Minerva placed the Sorting Hat atop her head. The way it flopped over her face was an amusing picture that briefly brought Jellal back to his thoughts of home.

Erza…

This reverie was short-lived, however, as the startlingly loud voice of the Hat rang through the Hall. "GRYFFINDOR!" Jellal jumped slightly at the boom that echoed throughout the room.

The red and gold table—the same one Harry sat at—erupted in applause and cheering, a pair of twins even throwing out a whistle or two. By the time the girl sat down though, the cheering had receded and McGonagall had called the next name.

Jellal smiled as the last child was called up, a boy with striking gray eyes. He was placed in Slytherin; the house that Jellal had learned bore the green and silver colors.

The boy sat down, and everyone went quiet as Dumbledore stood before the podium. The man smiled, that incessant twinkle in his eye—frankly, that particular feature was starting to get on the mage's nerves—as he began addressing his attentive audience. His voice was relatively quiet, yet it could be heard easily throughout the Great Hall.

"There is a time for speaking, but now it is not. Tuck in!" He sat back down again, and the blue-haired mage started in surprise as before him, all kinds of food popped up on platters and dishes. Beside him, Charity laughed softly at his reaction, and he couldn't help but flush in embarrassment.

Roast beef, roast chicken, steak, sausages, lamb chops and pork chops dripped with juices while potatoes came out roasted, mashed and boiled. Steak and kidney pie sat to his left, peas, carrots and Yorkshire pudding to his right. Farther down he could see the desserts; everything from ice cream and apple pies to jam doughnuts and rice pudding.

He rubbed his eyes to make sure it was all really there, and Charity laughed some more. "C'mon, it won't disappear." She reassured him with a pat on the shoulder for emphasis before piling her own plate with various foods.

"Not like it would be unusual." He muttered to himself with a sigh, but nonetheless followed the Professor's example.

The food, he decided, was a little bland, but it was more than he'd had for a long time. Whilst eating, however, he could sense Harry occasionally glancing back up at him, no doubt with some ridiculous suspicions already in mind.

When the food had been cleared away and everyone sat with full stomachs, Albus once again stood before the podium, though this time Jellal only half-listened as he spoke of various announcements and reminders, feeling almost sleepy from all the food.

"…I also wish to welcome our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Dolores Umbridge." The simpering woman to his left sat up straighter with—was that a giggle? He couldn't quite tell, but the sound brought him back to awareness quickly enough. "I hope you'll all join me in wishing the Professor good luck." Albus seemed to sigh before continuing. "As usual, our caretaker Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you—"

He was interrupted with a soft "hem, hem," at which Jellal flinched in surprise at. The woman in pink stood as everyone turned to look at her, and the former Saint noticed Harry whispering something to his friends before he returned his attention back to Dolores.

"Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome." She smiled up at the man as she began taking careful, methodical steps towards him. "And how lovely, to see all your bright, happy faces smiling up at me." Jellal bit his lip at the dull, monotonous, almost annoyed expressions on every student's face. "I'm sure we're all going to be very good friends."

Jellal caught the "not likely" utterance from the red-headed twins that were whistling earlier, during the Sorting Ceremony, and his lip curled upwards in amusement. He wasn't exactly sure who this woman was or what she wanted, but from the sound of it, he was about to find out.

"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 forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been to the noble profession of teaching."

Something about the way the woman spoke caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up in an unpleasant way. There was something about her that seemed almost… familiar.

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation, because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgment."

Underneath the table, Jellal clenched his fist, knuckles turning white. 'She's trying to control them.'

"Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, 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…" She smiled down at the students, most of which weren't even listening anymore. "Prohibited."

Right then and there, Jellal decided he hated Dolores Umbridge.