William finished the Hogwarts school song using the melody of Two Tigers, singing quickly to get it over with.
[tl/n: It's a Chinese nursery rhyme.]
The others sang in a chaotic mix of melodies. Over at the Hufflepuff table, someone was even humming The Internationale.
For a moment, William thought they might be undercover comrades from some international organization!
After everyone finished singing, the only ones still going were the Weasley twins, who were serenading the hall to the tune of The Wedding March.
Dumbledore directed the last few measures with his wand, giving the loudest applause when they finally stopped.
"It's time to introduce some of China's brainwashing tunes to Hogwarts," William thought silently.
That way, whenever they sang in the future, everyone would be on the same page, with just one melody stuck in their heads. Songs like Mang Zhong or Shoulder Dance would do the trick…
[tl/n: take a moment to do a quick google search, if you don't know these melodies already, I must say, I spent quite some time listening to them myself（*＾-＾*）]
Dumbledore, unaware of William's grand plans, was wiping his eyes. Whether it was from being moved to tears or from wiping away some solid debris that had found its way there, William couldn't tell.
"That melody is truly wonderful," Dumbledore said, as if reminiscing about a small but happy memory. William suspected the headmaster might be thinking of his first love.
Perhaps Dumbledore had even dreamed of using this song at his own wedding!
Dumbledore went on for a full ten minutes, praising the Hogwarts headmistress who had written the song, declaring her the greatest lyricist the school had ever seen.
Only after repeated coughing from Professor McGonagall did Dumbledore reluctantly bring the feast to a close.
The first-year Ravenclaws followed their prefect, Robert Hilliard, through the noisy crowd and out of the Great Hall.
In the distance, another commotion erupted from the Gryffindor table.
Percy Weasley was waving his arms wildly, shouting at the top of his lungs, "I'm going to kill you!"
William had never seen Percy so utterly enraged before. He usually took great care to maintain his image.
George, hiding behind Lee Jordan, responded pitifully, "Why are you yelling so loudly?"
Percy was practically gnashing his teeth. "The answers! Why do so many people have the exact same answers on their summer homework as I do?!"
Fred dodged as a shoe came flying at him and muttered, "How would we know? Maybe the homework was just really easy this time?"
The truth dawned on William—so the fourth-year summer homework answers came from Percy.
Percy hadn't known, and it was only when comparing answers with others that he discovered this shocking betrayal from his own brothers!
Clearly, the twins had stolen Percy's homework during the summer, copied it, and sold it for money!
What stung the most was that Percy hadn't gotten a single Knut from the whole scheme.
"AAAAH! I'll strangle you two!" Percy grabbed Oliver Wood's other shoe and hurled it.
George, somehow producing a bat, smacked the shoe like it was a Bludger, sending it flying across the hall.
As it turns out, taking off your shoes during a meal can be a fatal mistake!
Take Oliver Wood, for instance—he was happily eating a bowl of pudding, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle in front of him.
"Perfect hit!"Oliver clapped his hands excitedly.
In a professional tone, he commented, "Great accuracy, good power, and excellent timing. George, you've got the skills to join the Quidditch team! Looks like all that practice with Charlie this summer paid off.
"Make sure you attend the team selection next week. With you and Fred, we'll easily win the Quidditch Cup this year…"
And many more…
Wait a second, why does that shoe look so familiar?
"Where's my shoe?!" Wood, wearing a pair of garish pink socks adorned with a picture of the famous witch singer Celestina Warbeck, stood up on his chair.
He shouted, "Stop it! Stop fighting! That's a limited-edition flying shoe with Aidan Lynch's autograph!"
Aidan Lynch was a Chaser for the Irish National Quidditch team and one of Wood's favorite players.
But no matter how much Wood screamed, it was of no use. The shoe flew in a graceful arc, heading straight for the staff table.
Snape, who was sitting there with a look of irritation, was half-listening to Dumbledore's ramblings about the allure of rock music.
In a split second, the shoe came hurtling towards him, reeking with an overpowering stench that nearly knocked him out cold, even from the distance.
Given its trajectory, the shoe was clearly going to hit him.
Snape instinctively drew his wand, and the spell he intended to use was likely "Haasak" to slice the shoe apart.
But instead, with a subtle flick of his wand, he redirected the shoe at an even faster speed, sending it hurtling towards Professor Tywin, seated a bit further away.
Snape smirked, a condescending smile curling his lips as he twirled his wand with a flourish and tucked it back into his voluminous black robes.
Looking lazily at Dumbledore, Snape asked, "Where were we? ah, Please, continue."
The whole sequence of events had unfolded seamlessly—Snape's greasy hair hadn't even budged.
If it had been anyone else, they would likely have been hit by the flying shoe. But Professor Tywin was quick to prove just how terrifying a wizard with heightened reflexes could be.
In the blink of an eye, he dodged the shoe by tilting his head, letting it whiz past his golden locks and hurtle towards Hagrid.
Hagrid, flustered, quickly opened his little pink umbrella.
Though the umbrella looked shabby and ridiculous, its canopy was impressive. The shoe bounced off its surface, creating a noticeable dent, and shot back even faster.
Thud!
The shoe grazed the tip of Professor Tywin's nose. He took a deep whiff and nearly gagged on the odor, coming dangerously close to losing his lunch from the previous night.
Fortunately, his nose was not big enough to become the first professor in the history of Hogwarts to have his nose broken by a shoe.
Tywin now understood the full meaning of the phrase, "The Defense Against the Dark Arts position is cursed."
Nothing more needed to be said—he'd take his year's salary and be gone by next year!
The shoe, undeterred by its failure to hit Tywin, continued on its path, speeding toward Snape at 180 miles per hour.
Fortunately, it didn't hit him.
Unfortunately, it landed in a bowl on the table.
A wave of thick, milky liquid mixed with a pungent stench splashed onto Snape's face…
Dumbledore removed his half-moon glasses and wiped them, as if he hadn't seen anything at all.
Professor McGonagall took a deep breath and, before Snape could lash out, loudly announced,
"Percy Weasley, George Weasley, and Fred Weasley, thirty points from Gryffindor for causing a disturbance in the Great Hall!"
A disturbance?
This was clearly a public brawl with the intent to commit homicide against a professor!
Professor Tywin: "They should be sent straight to Azkaban, especially Oliver Wood! Let the Dementors give him a kiss for that foul foot odor!"
Snape, his face ashen, had initially planned to deduct three hundred points, but since McGonagall had spoken first, he remained silent.
That didn't mean he would let this slide!
Just wait until they showed up for Potions class…
Dumbledore smiled slightly, giving McGonagall a thumbs-up.
Her quick thinking was commendable. If three hundred points had been deducted this early in the term, there'd be no point in competing for the House Cup.
Snape's dead-eyed stare turned toward Dumbledore, as venomous as a snake's.
Dumbledore's smile vanished as he continued to wipe his glasses, muttering to himself,
"Ah, what bad luck. It's the earwax-flavored Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans again.
"I should've stuck with Haagen-Dazs. Annie only sent me a few boxes, but she could've sent more…
"She's always asking me to look after her brother William. It's a miracle he's not causing trouble already.
"Ah, before bed, I must treat myself to another bowl of Haagen-Dazs…"
Snape then glared at McGonagall.
Flustered, McGonagall stood up hastily, not daring to meet Snape's eyes. She marched stiffly off the staff platform and headed for the Gryffindor table.
Don't laugh! If I laugh now, Snape will definitely kill me!
But…
Holding it in is so hard!
McGonagall pressed her lips tightly together, her hands trembling as she dug her fingers into her legs, desperately trying to keep her composure.
She couldn't help but admire Dumbledore.
To be sitting so close to Snape and still remain so calm… He must have undergone professional training!