The two were chatting away, having a grand time.
Nearby, Seamus muttered, "What's so fun about a single ball?" before jumping into the conversation.
"I know you! Leon, right? You're Irish too, aren't you?"
Leon turned his head and replied to Seamus in Irish:
"You bet! We're hometown mates!"
The two Irish lads were just about to dive into a proper chat when Ron suddenly shot up, his face and hair practically blending into one fiery red hue.
He raised his empty goblet high in the air and let out a booming shout:
"To a perfect day! A magical day! A thrilling day!
"To the flying car! To epic journeys! To—"
His drunken ramblings were cut short.
Harry reacted quickly, tackling Ron back into his seat and clapping a hand over his mouth.
But it was too late.
Fred, equally tipsy and not entirely in his right mind, overheard and slurred loudly:
"What?! You lot flew here in a car? Dad… mmph!"
Leon moved like lightning, diving at Fred and stuffing a chicken leg into his mouth to silence him before he could spill the beans.
Luckily, the Gryffindors around them were so sloshed they barely registered what was said.
At that moment, the final dessert vanished from the table.
Dumbledore stood, lightly tapping his goblet, and the Great Hall fell silent.
"I trust you're all well-fed and ready for those cozy beds calling your name," he began. "But before we end the feast, indulge an old man's ramblings for a moment.
"First, a reminder to first-years: the Forbidden Forest on school grounds is strictly off-limits!
"And certain individuals who already know the rules," he added, nodding toward the Gryffindor table, "should take extra care to follow them."
Sadly, the Gryffindor table was in no state to engage. The lions had turned into a pack of tipsy cats, barely conscious.
Unfazed, Dumbledore continued, "Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to remind you all: no magic in the corridors between classes.
"Next, Quidditch tryouts will take place in the second week of term. Those interested in joining their house team should sign up with Madam Hooch promptly.
"And finally, allow me to introduce this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Gilderoy…"
Before he could finish, Gilderoy Lockhart, decked out in a vibrant green robe, leapt to his feet, unable to contain his flair for the dramatic. Flashing his dazzling white teeth and golden hair, he waved to the crowd like a king on parade.
"You all know him, I'm sure," Dumbledore said, gesturing to the peacock-like Lockhart. "Our esteemed and ever-popular Professor Gilderoy Lockhart!"
Lockhart reveled in the spotlight, his grin growing brighter, his teeth practically sparkling. He waved enthusiastically, winking at the girls with his striking blue eyes.
"Ladies! Gentlemen!" Lockhart's theatrical voice rang out. "What an honor! Receiving Dumbledore's invitation to teach was the greatest surprise of my year—well, aside from winning Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award for the fifth time! To return to Hogwarts, I—"
"Alright, Gilderoy, that's enough," Dumbledore interrupted gently. "You'll have a whole year to get acquainted. Let's wrap this up before everyone dozes off."
"Oh, one last thing!" he added, waving his wand. Swirling, ornate letters appeared in the air. "Let's sing the school song!"
With a flick of his wand like a conductor's baton, he called, "Ready… sing!"
Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something, please,
Whether we be old and bald
Or young with scabby knees,
Our heads could do with filling
With some interesting stuff,
For now they're bare and full of air,
Dead flies and bits of fluff,
So teach us things worth knowing,
Bring back what we've forgot,
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,
And learn until our brains all rot.
The Great Hall erupted in a chaotic chorus, each student belting out the song in their own off-key tune. The Gryffindor table was a mess of slurred words and drunken mumbles, with some lions so far gone their singing was barely intelligible.
A few, caught up in the moment, even started dancing. Ron, in a particularly wild state, yanked off his robes and swung them around like he was tossing garden gnomes at home, shouting, "I can fly… fly… FLY!"
Thankfully, his brother Percy put a stop to the embarrassing display.
The raucous singing finally ended, and the feast drew to a close.
Percy, ever the dutiful prefect, broke character for once and dragged Ron off for a private interrogation.
Leon and the other Gryffindor first-years were led by a female prefect toward the Gryffindor Tower.
They climbed the grand marble staircase, passing portraits whose occupants gathered in twos and threes, leaning out of their frames to gawk at the new students.
As the group passed, the portraits chimed in with loud commentary:
"That one's too scrawny—I could knock out three of him with one punch!"
"That one's tall and sturdy, looks mature… are we sure he's a first-year?"
"Wait, is that a boy wearing eyeliner?"
"What's eyeliner?"
"Wow, that one's handsome! Sisters, come quick, look at this heartthrob!"
Leon's mouth twitched as he passed a portrait where a gaggle of women in ball gowns rushed to the frame, waving and giggling at him. He awkwardly turned his head to avoid their starry-eyed stares.
The first-years followed the prefect through secret passages and trick staircases, dodging moving steps and hidden traps, until they reached the eighth floor and Gryffindor Tower.
At the end of the corridor hung a massive portrait of the Fat Lady, the famous guardian of Gryffindor's entrance.
"Password," she demanded primly.
The prefect pulled out a slip of paper and read, "Honeysuckle."
Satisfied, the Fat Lady swung forward, revealing a round entrance.
The exhausted first-years stumbled through, barely able to keep their eyes open.
Inside the cozy circular common room, the prefect pointed the boys toward their dormitory and led the girls to theirs.
Leon trailed behind Colin Creevey, who was a good head shorter than him, up a spiral staircase to their dorm.
The room held five four-poster beds, each draped in identical red velvet curtains. Beside each bed sat a student's trunk, along with a neatly folded Gryffindor-crested robe and a red-and-gold tie for the next day.
Too tired to exchange a single word, Leon and the others collapsed into their beds and fell asleep instantly.
In the dead of night, the five-bed dorm was silent, save for the soft snoring from a bed near the door.
Leon's eyes snapped open. He sat up.
Nighttime adventure! Nighttime adventure!
Gryffindors had to sneak out at night!
No sneaking, no Gryffindor!
Let's go explore! Let's go explore!