Chapter 330: The Opening Feast
Everyone knew that the reason they could gather here today and enter a school of magic was because of the young headmaster who stood before them.
The young wizards from Kael's domain had grown up hearing tales of their lord. Their parents revered him deeply.
By upbringing, they, too, held him in awe.
Kael Black rose, smiling warmly at the students below. His voice was not loud, yet it reached every ear.
"Welcome! Welcome to Hogwarts and a new school year! Before the feast begins, a few announcements: First-years, take note—the grove of gold and silver trees beyond the grounds is strictly off-limits to all students.
"Furthermore, students are not to go down to Hogsmeade on weekends unless there are special circumstances. Starting from the third year, those with parental consent may visit Hogsmeade on weekends.
"And Quidditch team trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone wishing to try out for your house team, please speak with Professor Gandalf."
At the word Quidditch, the local first-years lit up, buzzing with excitement.
The elven and Dúnedain children, unfamiliar with the game, looked puzzled at first, but soon—thanks to whispered explanations—wore the same eager expressions.
At the staff table, Gandalf cheerfully waved when Kael mentioned him, looking nothing like a stern professor and very much like a mischievous old sprite.
"Lastly," Kael said, face turning serious, "Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus (Never tickle a sleeping dragon). If you wish to avoid a painful and untimely end, do not attempt to enter the door by the cellars. What awaits beyond is a dragon's fire."
At that, every first-year sobered instantly and fixed the warning in mind.
Many had already heard that a great dragon slept beneath the castle, guarding endless treasure.
That dragon, once the dread of Dwarven halls, had been tamed by the lord himself after laying waste to a kingdom and hoard.
The dragon's name and fury were well known. Curiosity aside, no one dared risk rousing a sleeping wyrm. That was no different from seeking death.
Children could be flighty and curious—but they were not fools.
Seeing their properly cowed faces, the glint in Kael's eye softened.
He had meant to frighten them.
Besides, the door to Smaug's vaults was sealed by magic; without the key and countersign, it could not be opened.
And even if the students wandered in somehow, Smaug would do no more than give them a good scare.
"Now, let the feast begin!" Kael lifted his golden goblet.
In the next instant, the tables were filled with a bounty of dishes.
Cries of amazement went up as students stared at the food that had appeared from nowhere.
At the Phoenix table, Anlomire and the elf child Aranil sat together, with Adam Bailey from Hogsmeade beside them.
Feeling himself a subject of the headmaster's realm, Adam played the host, looking after Anlomire from the Dúnedain and Aranil from Rivendell.
Gnawing happily on a chicken leg, he chattered, "My dad is going to be over the moon I made Phoenix! He says the headmaster's Animagus is the only phoenix in all Middle-earth! Our house takes its emblem from his phoenix form—basically the headmaster's direct line!"
Anlomire and Aranil, new to wizarding ways, blinked in confusion.
"Animagus? What's that?"
Adam scratched his head. "Not totally sure. Dad says it's way beyond us—some very advanced Transfiguration that lets you turn into an animal. Only those who are truly skilled can become an Animagus.
"And so far, only the headmaster's Animagus is a phoenix. Everyone else is just a normal animal.
"Oh, and Professor Edward—the one who led our Sorting—is our Head of House. I heard he's a registered Animagus too, but nobody knows what animal he becomes."
Anlomire and Aranil were even more astonished.
Magic that turned a person into an animal—how incredible!
As they talked, the three quickly grew familiar and shared stories of their families.
All around the hall, students did the same—introductions over feasting, forging new bonds.
The elf children were the most popular of all.
Perfect of face and graceful of bearing, they looked eight or nine years old despite being far older than their human classmates—and even many professors. Their apparent youth drew kind attention and easy fondness.
When everyone had eaten and drunk their fill, the food vanished once more. The tabletops shone spotless, leaving only clean, empty plates.
Kael rose again. With a flick of his wand, a bright streamer unfurled overhead, glittering with lines of lyrics.
"Everyone, pick your own tune and sing the school song. Ready—begin!" Kael called with a grin.
The children gaped at the peculiar lyrics.
The professors exchanged bemused looks, recognizing Kael's penchant for mischief.
"Hogwarts, Hogwarts,
Teach us what we ought to know,
Whether we are balding elders,
Or children with scraped knees,
Our minds will take in
All curious things,
For now, our heads are empty, full of air,
Dead flies and fluff,
Teach us things of worth,
Restore what we have lost,
Do your utmost, and leave the rest to us,
We'll study hard until we turn to dust."
Voices clashed in every key and tempo. Even the Elves' beautiful singing could not save the joyful catastrophe.
At first, the staff simply watched in amusement—Gandalf, Galadriel, and Arwen especially, chalking it up to Kael's impish humor.
But soon they felt it: with the rising chorus, the castle itself seemed to stir.
A pulse of magic, perceptible only to the keen and powerful, thrummed through the stones in time with the students' song…
The castle was forming a subtle bond with them, something like a pact: it would watch over every student's safety, and in turn it would drink in the children's ambient magic and the constant shimmer of their emotions.
As master of the castle, Kael felt it most keenly. Somewhere within, a confluence had begun—a gathering of the students' emotional force and excess magic, slowly nurturing something.
He wondered if, when the time was right, the castle would give birth to a spirit—and truly become a living fortress.