"I think Malfoy must be feeling the same pressure as I am." Ron said again, "You know, the Malfoy family has always been in Slytherin."
Harry thought for a moment and couldn't help but laugh out loud.
"What's so funny?" Ron asked.
"Just think about it." Harry said, holding back laughter, to Ron and Hermione, "Malfoy asking his dad, 'Dad, what if I'm sorted into Slytherin?', and his dad would definitely pull out his magic wand and say, 'Draco Malfoy, You better be!'"
Hearing Harry's imagination, the two of them laughed.
At this moment, the Sorting Ceremony was also over.
Albus Dumbledore stood up, beaming at the students, spreading his arms, as if nothing made him happier than seeing the students gathered together.
"Welcome!" he said, "Welcome to Hogwarts for the start of a new school year! Before the feast begins, I want to say a few words—that is: Nonsense! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
"Thank you all!" He sat back down.
The audience applauded and cheered, Harry included.
If it were Principal Phineas Black, it would probably take an hour before the meal could begin.
Even if this junior looked a bit eccentric—yes, brainwashed by the Old Hat, in Harry's eyes, Dumbledore had changed from a headmaster to a junior.
Hmm... an eleven-year-old senior and a over hundred-year-old junior, that combination is indeed rare.
As Dumbledore sat down, heaps of food appeared on the four long tables.
Roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, steaks, boiled potatoes, baked potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, pea shoots, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and even mint humbugs.
Harry used a fork to pick up a steak and placed it on his plate.
It was well-done, indicating that the beef was of top quality—he seemed to remember someone saying that the Muggle Queen usually ate her steak well-done.
"Looks really good." A ghost with a ruffed collar watched Harry cut the steak and said sadly.
Harry looked up, nodded at the ghost.
"Hello."
He almost blurted out Sir Nicholas, but held back.
"You look... very familiar." Sir Nicholas stared dazedly at Harry, "I always feel like I've seen you somewhere before?"
Just when Harry thought the other was going to recognize him, he smacked his palm, "I remember now, James Potter, he must be your father, right? You look almost identical to him!"
"You knew my father?" Harry asked with interest.
"Of course, Mr. Potter, James was an excellent student from Gryffindor." Sir Nicholas said with a smile.
"Oh, I remember now, you're Nearly Headless Nick!" Ron at this point also pointed at Sir Nicholas and shouted.
"I think I'd prefer if you call me Sir Nicholas Mimsy." The ghost seemed a little embarrassed, but Seamus Finnigan with tea-colored hair interjected, "Nearly headless? How can you be nearly headless?"
Sir Nicholas looked very angry, apparently, he didn't want to talk about this topic.
"Like this." he said irritably, grabbing his left ear and pulling it down, his head wobbled and slipped off his neck, landing on his shoulder, as if his head was attached by hinges.
Apparently, someone had not fully beheaded him. Nearly Headless Nick was quite pleased with the dumbfounded expressions on their faces.
He gently flicked his head back onto his neck, cleared his throat and said, "Alright, new Gryffindor students! I hope you can help us win the House Cup this year, okay? Gryffindor hasn't won for so long, Slytherin has made it six in a row these past years! Bloodman Barrow is really unbearable—he's Slytherin's ghost."
Harry didn't focus on who Bloodman Barrow was but instead turned to look at the staff table.
As soon as he did so, his scar suddenly started throbbing painfully.
The pain in this scar was something he had only experienced once before, when he saw Sebastian use Avada Kedavra on Uncle Solomon Saru.
It had really infuriated Villatia back then, she used a magic spell to bind Sebastian and incidentally rescued Solomon with a transformation spell.
Harry didn't forget to endure the pain and cast a Forgetfulness Spell on Solomon, after all, this Uncle Solomon's annoying level... was comparable to Principal Black; he didn't want his good friend to end up in Azkaban.
After a while, the pain in the scar subsided.
He covered his forehead, ensuring no one noticed his abnormality.
However, Ron still noticed something was off, holding a chicken leg in each hand, turning to Harry he asked, "Mate, what's wrong? You look a bit off."
"I'm fine." Harry smiled at Ron and then asked Percy, "Percy, who is that teacher?"
Percy thought he was asking about Snape, so he answered with a smile, "That's Professor Snape, he teaches Magic Potion, but he's not too fond of teaching this class—everyone knows he's envious of Professor Quirrell's job, Snape is very experienced with Dark Magic."
Harry wasn't asking about Snape, in fact, he had been under Snape's gaze in a previous cabin, yet his scar hadn't hurt.
He added, "No, not Professor Snape, the one next to him, wearing a turban, the one who just turned to talk to someone."
"That's Professor Quirrell, he teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts." Percy replied, "Before that, he taught Muggle Studies at Hogwarts, but for some reason, he suddenly became the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher—you have no idea, because of this, Snape was infuriated and deducted a lot of points from Gryffindor in class."
"Why does Professor Snape's anger lead to point deductions for Gryffindor?" Harry still couldn't connect the two matters.
"Because Professor Snape doesn't like Gryffindor, that's no secret around the school." Percy shrugged, "Maybe because he's a Slytherin teacher? You know, Slytherin always has a grudge with Gryffindor."
Harry didn't argue, he didn't know how things were now, but a hundred years ago...
With Principal Black, Gryffindor and Slytherin had very good relations.
Harry looked back at Snape and found the latter staring at him too.
His gaze appeared complex, Harry wondered if he had a good relationship with his parents?
Thinking this, he politely smiled at Snape.
However, he noticed Snape snort expressionlessly, turning his gaze away from him.