Chapter Eleven: The New Normal
The cheers of the Gryffindor table washed over Elian as he took a seat between a pair of enthusiastic third-years. He nodded politely, his mind still echoing with the Sorting Hat's final, decisive word. Gryffindor. He'd expected Ravenclaw, given his thirst for understanding the system within him and the magic of this world. But the Hat had seen a different kind of steel.
The rest of the Sorting passed in a blur. He watched the remaining first-years—mostly tiny, terrified-looking children—get sorted. Finally, Professor McGonagall rolled up her parchment and carried the stool and Hat away.
Headmaster Dumbledore rose once more, a gentle smile on his face. "To our new students, welcome! To our old students, welcome back! There is a time for speechmaking, but now is not it. Tuck in!"
As he clapped his hands, the empty golden plates and goblets before them were suddenly piled high with food. Roast beef, chicken, pork chops, sausages, Yorkshire puddings, mountains of mashed potatoes, gravy boats, and every vegetable imaginable appeared. Elian's stomach growled in earnest. He'd been too nervous to eat much all day.
He filled his plate, listening to the conversations flowing around him. The older Gryffindors were debating the Hat's unusual song, Quidditch prospects, and complaining about summer homework. The first-years at the far end were chattering excitedly about the castle and the boats. He was in a strange middle ground—physically among the older students, academically with the youngest.
"So, Elian, was it?" asked a friendly, freckled face leaning over from further down the table. It was one of the Weasley twins—Fred or George, he couldn't tell yet.
"That's right."
"Bit of a late bloomer, eh?" the twin said with a grin that held no malice, only avid curiosity. "We heard a rumour there was an ancient magic mix-up. Must be weird, starting with the runts."
"It has its moments," Elian said, managing a smile.
"Well, any enemy of routine is a friend of ours. Welcome to Gryffindor!" The twin clapped him on the shoulder before turning back to his brother, already plotting some new mischief.
As the feast began to wind down and the desserts appeared (trifle, apple pies, treacle tarts, ice cream), Dumbledore stood again. The buzz faded.
"Now that we are all fed and watered, I have a few more start-of-term notices. Our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you that the list of forbidden objects has been amended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office."
A groan rippled through the hall. Filch, a grumpy-looking man with a cat at his feet, smiled a thin, unpleasant smile.
"Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested should contact Madam Hooch. And finally," Dumbledore's tone shifted, becoming slightly more serious, "we have two changes in staffing this year. We are delighted to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures. We also welcome Professor Dolores Umbridge, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."
Polite, unenthusiastic applause followed. Elian's eyes, like everyone else's, turned to the staff table. There, next to Professor McGonagall, sat a woman swathed in a fluffy pink cardigan. She had a broad, toad-like face, and her hair was topped with a black velvet bow. She smiled widely, showing small, pointed teeth, and gave a little wave.
(End of Chapter)
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