After Blaise Zabini was finally sorted into Slytherin, Professor McGonagall rolled up the parchment, took the Sorting Hat, and returned to Dumbledore's right-hand side.
The young witches and wizards watched the Headmaster expectantly, ready to feast at his command.
Dumbledore rose with a radiant smile, spreading his arms as if nothing delighted him more than seeing students gathered together.
"Welcome!" his voice boomed with an Amplifying Charm. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I'd like to say a few words: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!
"Thank you!"
As Dumbledore sat, applause and cheers erupted.
Across from Wayne, a young Hufflepuff looked bewildered. "What did the Headmaster mean by those words?"
"Are you a Ravenclaw?"
"Don't be daft, I'm obviously Hufflepuff."
"Then why care? Just eat!"
The previously empty plates now overflowed with food: roast beef, chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, steaks, mashed potatoes, chips, puddings, vegetables, gravies, sauces, even peppermint humbugs.
The variety was undeniably lavish, especially for Britain's culinary wasteland.
One couldn't expect more from a nation whose state banquets served French cuisine. Wayne ate heartily, having no particular dislikes. With quality ingredients, even simply cooked steaks and lamb chops were decent enough.
At the Gryffindor table, he spotted Ron juggling two chicken legs, barely managing between mouthfuls. Wayne felt he ought to have been sorted into Hufflepuff—this was truly a paradise for food lovers.
While other houses chatted over meals, the badgers focused solely on eating. Cedric only managed a few words with Wayne before his cheeks were stuffed full, yet he still remembered to place a large chicken leg on Wayne's plate.
Truly, my heart aches.
At the High Table, Snape was deep in conversation with Quirrell, whose head was wrapped in a scarf, making him look more like an Arab.
Professor McGonagall was whispering into Professor Sprout's ear, and Sprout's expression had turned rather displeased.
"Lawrence, could you pass me two Yorkshire puddings?" Hannah asked eagerly from two seats away.
"Just call me Wayne, Hannah," Wayne said, handing her the puddings.
The little girl smiled sweetly, her pigtails swaying, before diving back into her meal.
A milky-white poltergeist sat nearby, enthusiastically recommending dishes he deemed excellent. Everyone called him the Fat Friar.
Hmm, Wayne felt a peculiar sensation:
A wizard, once hunted relentlessly by the Church in the Middle Ages, had become a friar.
It was... rather hard to describe.
The feast lasted nearly an hour, concluding with an array of desserts. Wayne politely declined—English desserts were essentially just spoonfuls of icing sugar, and he had no desire to develop diabetes at such a young age.
Finally, the puddings vanished, and Dumbledore rose to his feet. The Great Hall fell silent once more.
The young witches and wizards waited for the Headmaster's closing remarks.
But just as Dumbledore was about to speak, Professor McGonagall suddenly said, "One moment, Albus. Before you begin, there's something I must address."
Dumbledore blinked—this wasn't part of the usual routine—but he quickly smiled warmly and gestured for her to proceed.
Though Dumbledore was technically the Headmaster, there were moments when even he had to yield to McGonagall's stern authority.
Officially, Dumbledore was in charge, but in practice, it was Professor McGonagall who managed the school's day-to-day affairs.
"George, Fred," she announced, "starting tomorrow, you will both serve detention. Report to Filch every evening at eight to polish every trophy in the trophy room—three times over. Your detention will only end once the task is complete."
The twins, who had been cracking jokes to amuse the girls, froze before springing to their feet.
"But why, Professor McGonagall?"
Utter confusion and indignation filled their eyes. They had plenty of mischief planned, but they hadn't even had the chance to act yet!
Was preemptive punishment the new trend?
"You dare ask me!" McGonagall glared at them sternly.
"Who was it that terrified the first-years by making the Sorting Ceremony sound so dreadful?"
Professor Sprout chimed in cheerfully. She was a plump, kindly-looking woman.
"Cedric, you'll assist them as well."
Now, the twins and Cedric all turned to Wayne. Case closed.
Wayne 'shyly' lowered his head, as if embarrassed.
"Yes, Professor," the three muttered dejectedly. Cedric gritted his teeth and whispered,
"You set us up on purpose!"
Wayne remained impassive. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm just a first-year—I don't know anything."
"You're awful. You belong in Slytherin," Cedric hissed, flipping him the middle finger.
The twins exchanged a glance and grinned silently. Although they'd been tricked by Wayne, they found it even more amusing somehow. This was far more entertaining than dealing with their foolish younger brother, Ron!
"Now then," Dumbledore began, still smiling, "I'm relieved to see you're all still so full of energy.
"However, there are a few notices I must share with everyone.
"First-years should note that the forest on the school grounds is forbidden to all students. Our older students would do well to remember this, too."
His bright eyes swept over the twins, but they were too busy plotting how to get back at Wayne to notice.
It was like casting pearls before swine.
"Furthermore, Mr Filch has asked me to remind you that magic should not be performed in the corridors between lessons.
"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Those wishing to try out for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.
"Finally, I must tell you that anyone who does not wish to die a painful death should avoid the corridor on the fourth-floor right-hand side."
Wayne curled his lip disdainfully.
Wasn't this just a case of 'no silver buried here'?
Old Dumbledore might as well have said he'd buried all his treasures and glory in that fourth-floor corridor.
Go seek them out!
The young lions were already rubbing their hands in anticipation.
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore announced loudly.
The entire school rose to their feet, Wayne included. At the same moment, a notification sounded in his mind.
[Congratulations, host...]