"It’s amusing to me," Harry said, loud enough for his voice to carry to the surrounding people but no further, and many of them fell quiet to listen in, "that a sentient hat can figure out that something is wrong, but the ministry can’t," this statement triggered new mutters up and down Gryffindor table, though they petered out quickly in the face of McGonagall’s look of disapproval. Finally, she began the sorting ceremony, and Harry clapped along politely with everyone else whenever someone was sorted into Gryffindor, but his focus was still on Umbridge, contemplating how he could make her life just that little bit less comfortable. He didn’t look away until the last of the first years had had their turn under the sorting hat, McGonagall was carrying the hat and stool off to the side, and Dumbledore was getting to his feet. He held his arms out wide to the hall, a beaming smile on his face.