When Cassandra, the blonde girl, joined Ivy at the Slytherin table, only two people remained in the first-year lineup, one of whom was the red-haired Ron Weasley.
"Oh... look at that redhead! He looks like he's about to scare himself to death." Malfoy sneered at Ron's pale face, but his two lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle, no longer joined in his ridicule.
Fortunately, the Sorting Hat soon easily called out "Gryffindor" in front of the entire hall. The students at the Gryffindor table clapped enthusiastically to welcome the final addition to their house.
Blaise Zabini appeared much calmer than Ron. He was the last of the first year to be sorted.
Once everyone was hungry and staring at their empty golden plates, Dumbledore stood up with a wide grin on his face and spoke.
"Welcome! Welcome!" His voice boomed, far from what one would expect from a man over a hundred years old. "Welcome to the new school year at Hogwarts! Before the feast begins, I would like to say a few words. That is: Idiots! Crybabies! Rubbish! Twist!"
"Thank you, everyone!"
After the brief speech, the plates in front of everyone were immediately filled with food.
Although Hogwarts was known as a magical school in a land of culinary horrors, the food placed before everyone looked quite delicious.
As long as the British didn't get too creative with their food, the traditional dishes were usually pretty good. At least the food looked appealing, with enough protein and calories to go around.
And let's not forget that the chefs were not British, but rather the house-elves of England.
Therefore, Ivy picked up his knife and fork and started his first real meal of the day.
As he was cutting into the lamb chops on his plate, he heard Malfoy's voice from across the table. "Ivy! Why did you lie to us about the Sorting ceremony? You knew all we had to do was put on that old hat! I have to say, sorting us by an exam is ridiculous."
Malfoy was sitting with the Slytherin house ghost, the bloodied ghost of Barrow. When he heard Malfoy's question, his previously vacant and withered face began to change as he turned his head and stared at Malfoy.
"If you'd paid attention, you'd have noticed that it's an unwritten rule shared by all witches and wizards who know about the Sorting tradition," Ivy swallowed a bite of his tender lamb chop and then answered Malfoy's question, "Now that you know, you can come up with a more convincing story to mess with the younger witches and wizards."
"Alright." Malfoy tilted his head and thought for a moment before laughing, "Maybe next year I'll tell the first-years that the Sorting is based on bloodlines. The noblest ones go to Slytherin, those who think they're smart go to Ravenclaw, those who can't see reality go to Gryffindor, and as for Hufflepuff, it's just for useless crybabies."
"Honestly, you know what?" Malfoy shoved a chicken leg into his mouth and mumbled, "After we bumped into you at Ollivanders, my dad spent the whole night looking up the origins of the surname 'Doom,' but couldn't find anything. But we all know you must be pureblood. Could it be that you came from abroad?"
"Oh, I've never met my parents in this world, so maybe I'm a Muggle-born," Ivy said, picking up some gravy, sniffing it with delight, noting the aroma of onions, parsley, thyme, and probably beef bones boiled for a long time, a rich brown color that stimulated the appetite. He dipped some bread in it and ate with satisfaction.
"Hahaha, you sure know how to joke," Malfoy laughed loudly. "You can't possibly be Muggle-born, because Slytherin doesn't accept students whose parents are both Muggles, and besides, your family could order a silver lime wand and provide a phoenix feather over a hundred years ago—there's no way you're from some unknown family!"
His loud laugh caught quite a few eyes in the hall.
Ivy paid no attention to the attention. His gaze wandered over the roasted potatoes, boiled potatoes, fried potato chips, and potato cheese cakes—traditional British dishes—before finally locking onto a plate of roasted beef ribs.
Malfoy also noticed where Ivy was looking. He turned to his lackey, Crabbe, and said, "Give him a hand, Crabbe! Ivy wants that plate of beef ribs."
Before Crabbe could stretch out his greasy hand, the beef ribs on the table floated up and landed perfectly in front of Ivy.
"Got it, but I can manage on my own." Ivy nodded to Malfoy and Crabbe.
"Non-verbal magic?" The voice was confident and haughty, coming from the girl named Cassandra Worrell, sitting to Ivy's left. "Seems not all first-years are useless and hopeless."
"Thanks for the compliment, I appreciate it," Ivy's gaze lingered on her delicate and attractive face, particularly the mole under her drooping eyes, as Ivy himself had added one to his face when he used to pinch others. He believed that imperfection made perfection more intriguing.
A mole not only doesn't break the harmony of the overall appearance but also adds a certain charm, making the face, which could easily stir emotions, feel more approachable. Therefore, Ivy was quite satisfied with the mole, both his own and Cassandra's.
However, it seemed the girl didn't share the same opinion. She squinted her eyes in annoyance, clearly displeased, and muttered, "That wasn't a compliment. If you can't even recognize something so obvious, you're not far from being an idiot."
Ivy couldn't help but laugh. His tolerance for good-looking witches was always quite high, so he leaned closer and asked, "So, who's the real idiot next to me?"
Cassandra shot him a hard look but said nothing further, though she did put more force into cutting her sausage.
"Hahaha." Ivy laughed loudly and continued enjoying the beef ribs that had just been served to him.
The main course of the welcome feast ended quickly, and the golden plates were magically cleaned, then filled with a variety of desserts and fruits.
Ivy helped himself to some jam pudding and then noticed that Cassandra was staring at the strawberries to his right.
He waved his spoon, and the strawberries danced across the table, forming a tower on her plate.
"Don't expect me to say thank you." Cassandra averted her gaze from the strawberry tower and fixed her eyes on the floating candles overhead, showing no interest in the fruit.
"Oh, that's all I need to hear." Ivy noticed that her eyes widened, and even her pointed ears turned red.
Ivy silently marveled in his mind: Is there anything more fun than messing with classmates?
The answer was: Messing with a pretty classmate.