Once Kyle had settled into his seat, Professor McGonagall walked over to the triangular stool, and the cheers in the Great Hall gradually quieted down. She held up the Sorting Hat.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted into your house," she announced.
"Hannah Abbott!"
A young girl with rosy cheeks and two golden braids stepped out of the line, stumbling a bit as she approached the stool. She put on the hat, and after a moment's pause—
"Hufflepuff!"
The Hufflepuff table erupted in applause, welcoming Hannah enthusiastically. Susan Bones, who had just been sorted into Hufflepuff as well, hurried over to sit beside her amid the cheers.
The sorting continued in an orderly fashion. Hermione and Neville were both placed in Gryffindor, Malfoy was sorted into Slytherin just as he'd hoped, and Harry and Ron, unsurprisingly, joined Gryffindor as well.
Kyle noticed Dumbledore seated at the head table, looking particularly pleased. Dumbledore clapped energetically and even picked up a cup, giving it a celebratory wave in Harry's direction.
"This old bee," Kyle muttered to himself, feeling a mixture of amusement and irritation. He'd long suspected that Dumbledore would do whatever it took to support Harry, but such a blatant display was a bit much, wasn't it?
In stark contrast, Professor Snape looked anything but pleased. Rather than glaring at Harry, however, he was eyeing the Sorting Hat intently, as though he might pull out a potion bottle and douse the tattered old hat at any moment.
As soon as the last new student was sorted into Slytherin, Snape rose swiftly, ready to assist Professor McGonagall with returning the Sorting Hat. But she waved him off.
"Thank you, Severus, but the list of new students needs to be placed in a designated spot, and I don't believe you'd know where to find it," she said, giving him a mildly perplexed look before rolling up the parchment and leaving with the Sorting Hat.
Dumbledore then rose, his face alight with joy as he spread his arms toward the crowd.
"Welcome!" he called out warmly. "Welcome to Hogwarts and the start of a new school year! Before we begin the feast, I would like to say a few words."
He paused, then declared, "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
"Thank you all!"
With that, Dumbledore sat down, and the empty plates before the students instantly filled with food.
"Oh, I hate carrots..." Mikel muttered, staring down at the vegetable soup in front of him. He turned to Ryan, who was gnawing on a corn cob, and asked, "Wanna switch seats?"
Ryan, who wasn't a picky eater, shrugged and got up to swap places with Mikel.
"Kyle, do you have any idea what the headmaster meant just now?" Cedric asked, frowning slightly. Dumbledore's words had sounded odd, almost as though he were an eccentric old wizard on the brink of losing his mind.
Kyle thought for a moment. "Not really," he admitted. "But maybe he was making a comment about how each house views the others. Like how clever Ravenclaws might look down on everyone else, thinking they're all a bit slow, right?"
"Oh, I see…" Cedric nodded thoughtfully, piecing together the other words to fit the various houses. Kyle's interpretation seemed to make sense.
Still, despite all the theories and interpretations, no one really knew what Dumbledore was thinking. The only person who might have had a clue was still locked away in Nurmengard.
...
Everyone enjoyed their meal until the last crumbs of pumpkin pie vanished from the golden plates. With the feast over, Dumbledore rose once more.
"Now that everyone has eaten their fill, I'd like to say a few words to you all," he began.
"First, we have Professor Quirrell, whom many of you know, taking on the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. And joining us as the new Muggle Studies professor is Professor Charity Burbage."
Two figures rose from the staff table—a man and a woman. Quirrell looked nervous and uncertain, while Professor Bubaji exuded a bright confidence. The hall broke into applause, though most of it was directed at Professor Burbage, who outshone Quirrell considerably. As for Quirrell, he barely drew a response—his yearly appearances were hardly worth a fuss.
Nearby, an upperclassman muttered in disbelief, "Volunteering to be Defence Against the Dark Arts professor... I never knew Professor Quirrell was so brave."
As the applause settled, Dumbledore continued, "First years, please remember that the forest on the school grounds is off limits to all students. This rule is very important, and if anyone suggests going there—even if it's a professor you know well—do not agree."
Kyle felt several pairs of eyes fall on him, making him wince. Really? Am I getting a public shaming here?
Thankfully, Dumbledore didn't linger on this point for long. "Also, the caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind everyone not to practice magic in the corridors between classes. And please do not bring any magical plants from the greenhouse back to the castle, especially the dangerous ones."
Dumbledore's twinkling gaze settled on Kyle, whose mouth twitched slightly before he quickly composed himself. Alright, fine, Headmaster, he thought, no plants this semester.
"The Quidditch player review will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in joining a House team should contact Madam Hooch."
Finally, Dumbledore's expression turned serious. "Lastly, I must tell you all that anyone who wishes to avoid a painful death should stay clear of the corridor on the right side of the fourth floor."
Kyle snickered quietly. The bait was so obvious it was practically bait on a hook—but Voldemort, apparently, had taken it seriously. Really? If Dumbledore didn't have a backup plan, would he just announce the location? Then again, Voldemort was only a spectral presence right now, clinging to Quirrell's mind. Maybe the shared brain space was starting to short-circuit.
"He can't be serious, can he?" Mikel whispered, looking pale.
"Unlikely," Cedric replied, shaking his head. "If Hogwarts had somewhere truly that dangerous, it would've been completely sealed off ages ago."
Once the school song had been sung, Dumbledore announced it was time to head to the dormitories. But Kyle stayed put, glancing over at the Gryffindor table. After all, he was due a certain payment.
"Oh… that!"
"I thought he'd forgotten," Fred and George sighed. Amid curious looks from Harry and Ron, they each popped a toffee into their mouths with a resigned expression.
"Wow…"
"Oh…"
Laughter erupted as Fred and George's tongues stretched out to an absurd length, flapping like ribbons as they broke into an awkward, tongue-dragging tap dance around the table. This part hadn't been in the original bet—they'd added it themselves. Trying to avoid tripping over their own tongues, the twins moved in a spasmodic, almost slapstick rhythm that was oddly mesmerizing.
"Ohhh…"
The hall broke into another round of applause and laughter, with even Dumbledore watching them with delighted interest. Only Professor McGonagall looked less than amused, her lips pursed so tightly they almost formed a straight line. Not again, she seemed to be thinking. Wasn't one year enough?