Dumbledore finished his welcoming speech, but Carnie had completely tuned it out. It was just like a school principal droning on about discipline and excellence—utterly devoid of substance. He paid no attention whatsoever.
Instead, his focus was on the sudden appearance of a feast. The long tables filled with steaming roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, steak, baked potatoes, fries, puddings, carrots, gravy, and tomato sauce.
Carnie muttered under his breath, "Any sweet and sour ribs? Beggar's chicken? Husband and wife lung slices?" He wasn't really expecting a response—it was more of a test to see if the house-elves in the kitchens could hear him.
The plates remained unchanged. He sighed. Figures.
Little did he know that deep in the Hogwarts kitchens, a group of house-elves were tugging at their ears in distress. "Sweet and sour ribs? Beggar's chicken? What are those?" They huddled together, whispering frantically. Not a single one of them had heard of such dishes before. They felt utterly useless, to the point that some were considering banging their heads against the walls.
Back in the Great Hall, Carnie wasn't picky. He grabbed whatever was closest and started eating. Meanwhile, the ghosts floated out to welcome the new students in their own eerie way.
Hearing Harry and Ron talking to a ghost about nearly losing his head, Carnie quickly lowered his head and focused on his meal. He didn't want to lose his appetite.
Sure enough, a sharp gasp came from beside him—it was Neville. Clearly, he had been interested in the nearly-headless ghost's story. Now, though, he was eyeing the meat on his plate with significantly less enthusiasm.
As dinner progressed, students began chatting more freely.
"I'm half-blood," one boy said. "My dad's a Muggle. My mum didn't tell him she was a witch until after they got married—scared the living daylights out of him."
The students around him laughed heartily. Carnie, on the other hand, barely reacted. It wasn't that funny.
If he had said his dad was so scared he nearly laid an egg, or turned into a dog out of shock—now that would've been funny. Exaggeration was key to a good joke, after all.
"What about you, Neville?" Ron asked.
"Oh, I was raised by my gran. She's a witch," Neville said. "But for the longest time, my family thought I was a Squib. My Uncle Algie kept trying to force my magic out—once, he pushed me off the dock at Black Lake, nearly drowned me, and still, nothing happened. Then, when I was eight, Uncle Algie came over for tea. He dangled me out a window by my ankles when my Aunt Enid handed him a meringue cake. He lost his grip, dropped me, and I bounced right across the garden and onto the road. They were all so relieved. Aunt Enid even cried. You should've seen their faces when I got my Hogwarts letter—they were convinced I had no magic. Uncle Algie was so happy, he bought me Trevor."
Further down the table, Percy Weasley and Hermione were discussing academics.
"I just hope we get straight to the point in class. There's so much to learn!" Hermione said eagerly. "I'm especially interested in Transfiguration. Turning one thing into another—that must be incredibly difficult!"
"You should start with something small," Percy advised. "Like turning a match into a needle."
Carnie, listening in, felt like he was back in a school seminar. Academics talking about things normal people barely understood.
Then Harry turned to him. "What about you, Carnie?"
"Me?" Carnie chewed on a piece of chicken. "My parents are both… Muggles," he said, hesitating slightly. He didn't really like that word to describe his parents.
As everyone began finishing their meals, the plates of food suddenly vanished, leaving them as clean as they had been at the start. Moments later, desserts appeared—ice cream, cookies, cakes, and fresh fruit.
Carnie wasn't big on desserts, but he noticed Harry glancing toward the staff table, whispering with Percy. He must've spotted Snape.
Come to think of it, he hadn't really looked at the teachers yet. During the Sorting Ceremony, he had been too focused on the Hat. He turned toward the staff table.
Some were easy to recognize—Hagrid was impossible to miss, Dumbledore stood out like a rainbow among clouds, McGonagall was clad in her signature green robes, and then there was Quirrell… the main villain of the year.
Quirrell looked young, nervous, and timid, his head wrapped in that ridiculous purple turban. If Carnie hadn't known better, he would've assumed he was just a shy professor.
Quirrell was talking to a gaunt-faced, black-cloaked man who was ignoring him completely. Instead, the man's eyes were locked onto the Gryffindor table.
Snape.
Carnie observed him. Yep, that was a greasy, permanently scowling, bat-like man if he ever saw one.
Then, as if sensing someone watching him, Snape suddenly shifted his gaze.
Right at Carnie.
Carnie blinked. Wait, why is he looking at me? What did I do? Shouldn't he be watching Harry?
His mind raced. He needed a response. Something quick. Something absurd.
And then, without hesitation, he widened his eyes, flashed an exaggerated grin, and bared his teeth in the most ridiculous, unsettling smile he could manage.
Snape's face froze. He didn't react. No scowl, no sneer—just complete stillness.
Then, without a word, he furrowed his brow and turned his glare back to Harry.
Carnie immediately dropped the grin. What the hell did I just do? I just taunted Snape. My Potions grades are going to suffer. Between me, Harry, and Neville, we're handing him a triple kill on a silver platter.
I'd better read through Magical Draughts and Potions a few more times. If I actually study, I can minimize the damage.
Carnie turned back to the staff table and found himself staring straight into the eyes of Dumbledore.
The old man had been watching him.
Before Carnie could react, Dumbledore's eyes widened, and he broke into a near-identical toothy grin.
Carnie instantly ducked his head. Nope. Nope. Nope. Why did I look?
Around him, students started choking on their drinks and desserts.
"Pfft—"
"Cough—"
A few were outright laughing. Snape's expression had darkened further.
Dumbledore, seeing the positive reaction from the students, finally withdrew his grin.
Carnie pressed a hand to his forehead, drawing circles on the table absentmindedly.
Meanwhile, Ron nudged Harry. "Oi, Harry, Dumbledore was smiling at you just now!"
"H-He was?" Harry looked startled. "Why would he smile at me?"
"No idea. Probably 'cause you defeated You-Know-Who," Ron shrugged. "I mean, the guy talks in riddles, anyway. I didn't understand half of what he said before dinner."
Carnie exhaled in relief. Good. They all think Dumbledore was smiling at Harry. No one suspects a thing.
Though, part of him wondered… Did Dumbledore smile at me because he saw what I did to Snape?
Either way, he was keeping his head down for the rest of the meal.