Harry didn't really care about Snape's reaction. After all, in his understanding, all Slytherins were full of contradictions. Take Ominis, for example, a textbook case of cold on the outside but warm on the inside. In contrast, Sebastian was warm on the outside but cold on the inside.
And as the old serpent king of Slytherin, Snape was naturally the most contradictory of them all—makes sense, right?
Food. He lowered his head and looked at the delicious meal in front of him again.
It had been noon when he snacked on the train, and he was already quite hungry by now.
After finishing the steak on his plate, the food on the dining table in front of him transformed into an array of sweet desserts.
The British couldn't live without afternoon tea and post-meal desserts, just like the 3D zone couldn't live without Tifa.
If forced to choose between the two, afternoon tea would undoubtedly be more important.
Disappeared. Eventually, even the desserts on the table vanished.
Professor Dumbledore stood up again, and the dining hall fell silent.
“Oh, now that everyone is full and satisfied, I have a few announcements to make as we begin the new term," he said.
“First-year students, please note that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off-limits to students—and some of our older students would do well to remember that as well.”
Dumbledore's twinkling eyes, visible through his half-moon spectacles, swept toward the Weasley twins.
The message was clear: by “older students,” he specifically meant those two troublemakers.
The Gryffindors joined the headmaster in focusing their gaze on the Weasley twins.
After all, most of the points lost by Gryffindor were thanks to those two.
“Additionally, Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to remind everyone not to cast spells in the corridors between classes.”
Filch, holding his red-eyed cat, stood not far away and gave a loud snort at Dumbledore’s words.
“Furthermore, Quidditch tryouts will be held during the second week of term. Those interested in joining their House teams should contact Madam Hooch, the Flying Instructor.”
“Lastly, I must warn you that anyone who does not wish to meet a gruesome and painful death should avoid the corridor on the right-hand side of the fourth floor.”
Harry couldn’t help but chuckle at that—he couldn’t hold it in.
To be honest, there wasn’t a place in Hogwarts he hadn’t been to. Even the Slytherin common room was a spot he’d once visited with Veratia, though the process wasn’t exactly enjoyable.
Percy. “He’s not serious, is he?” Harry whispered.
“Impossible,” Percy frowned and muttered, “What’s odd is that whenever he prohibits us from going somewhere, he usually explains why. For example, everyone knows the Forbidden Forest is full of dangerous creatures—I think he should at least tell us Prefects more clearly.”
“Obviously, Headmaster Dumbledore has his little secrets,” Harry said softly to Percy. “The kind he doesn’t want anyone else to know.”
“Fair point,” Percy nodded knowingly.
“Now, before we all retire for the night, let us sing the school song together!” Dumbledore said loudly. Harry noticed that the other teachers’ smiles seemed to freeze on their faces.
Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, and a long golden ribbon flew out, twisting like a serpent above the high table as it formed lines of text.
“Everyone pick their favorite tune,” Dumbledore said. “Ready—sing!”
And so the entire student body and staff broke into song:
“Hogwarts, Hogwarts…”
Since the song had no set tune, everyone sang in whatever style they liked, completely ignoring whether they were in sync.
The Great Hall became an even greater mess than Knockturn Alley, and Harry instantly understood why the professors wore such expressions.
He remembered what the Sorting Hat had said—that Dumbledore joined the school the year after Phineas Nigellus Black’s tenure as headmaster. This meant he too had suffered under Phineas.
Perhaps this chaotic singing tradition was Dumbledore’s revenge for enduring Phineas’s annual choir rehearsals. Harry thought, though he swore he’d rather endure rehearsals with a single tune under Phineas than suffer this.
In the end, only the Weasley twins were still singing along, following the somber melody of the “Funeral March.”
Dumbledore conducted their final verses with his wand, clapping the loudest when they finished.
“Ah, music,” he said, pointing to his eyes, “a magic beyond all we do here! And now, it’s time for bed. Off you go!”
The Prefects stepped forward, leading the new students of each House. Hufflepuff’s Gabriel Truman, Ravenclaw’s Penelope Clearwater, Slytherin’s Gemma Farley, and Gryffindor’s Percy Weasley guided their charges toward their respective common rooms.
As the Slytherin and Gryffindor groups passed each other, Harry noticed Malfoy looking particularly dejected.
It must’ve been because of the twenty points preemptively docked from him. Even in Slytherin, the Malfoy name didn’t grant absolute immunity.
Not even if his surname were Gaunt.
Gemma Farley, a stunning Slytherin prefect, looked particularly displeased. She seemed annoyed about Malfoy losing points from their head of house.
For Snape, usually biased in favor of his house, to deduct points, Malfoy must’ve done something seriously wrong.
“Harry, did you see that?” Ron nudged Harry. “Look at Malfoy’s face—it’s like he just ate something foul!”
“He deserved it,” Harry said gleefully.
They hadn’t walked much further when the group suddenly came to a halt.
Floating in mid-air ahead of them was a bundle of sticks. Percy was just one step away from bumping into it.
Those behind him stopped in time, afraid of colliding, creating a domino effect.
“It’s Peeves,” Percy whispered to the first-years. “A mischievous ghost.”
Raising his voice, he added, “Peeves—show yourself!”
The response was a loud, shrill, balloon-like squeal.
“Do I need to fetch the Bloody Baron?” Percy threatened.
With a loud pop, a mischievous, clownish ghost appeared, dressed in brightly colored clothes and wearing a tall hat. One look at him, and it was clear he wasn’t someone to mess with.
Contrary to Percy’s expectations, Peeves didn’t immediately cause trouble. Instead, he seemed to notice something interesting among the new students.
“Peeves! They’re just first-years! If you play pranks on them, I’ll fetch the Bloody Baron right now—”
Percy’s threat had no effect. Peeves zipped up and down and eventually hovered over Harry’s head.
“The great Peeves seems to have spotted an old friend—"
you can read more chapter on my