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Chapter 607: The Start-of-Term Feast
🕑 Added 2025-03-12 12:33:41 +0000 UTCDuring the journey following the feast, apart from routine inspections of the train carriages, the conversations consistently circled back to Moody’s attack and the Death Eaters.
Everyone speculated whether there would be a change in the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Would Sirius teach the subject alone this year? And if so, would he become a target for another attack?
The train steadily moved northward, with the weather remaining as erratic as ever. Rain began to fall again, the rhythmic tapping on the windows creating a drowsy atmosphere.
Suddenly, the carriage lights flickered on.
“We’d better change,” Cho said, glancing out the rain-speckled window. “We should be there soon.”
Fred and George began pulling on their robes, while Cedric opened the compartment door in preparation for their arrival.
The train eventually slowed, a cacophony of noise rising as students crowded the aisles, eager to disembark. Since Prefects were responsible for maintaining order, Kyle and the others were among the last to leave their compartment.
A man holding a lantern called for the first-year students to step forward, but the lantern was much lower than usual.
“That’s not Hagrid,” Fred noted, his brows furrowing. “Do you know who she is?”
It was a witch—not Hagrid’s familiar, unkempt figure. Instead, she was neatly dressed, her hair impeccably styled as she organized the first-year students with practiced authority.
“She’s Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank,” Kyle said suddenly. “A renowned Magizoologist. She’s written several articles on Unicorns.”
“Magizoology?” George echoed. “You don’t think the school’s replacing Hagrid, do you?”
“I doubt it,” Kyle replied, shaking his head. “Hagrid’s probably just handling something important. She’s likely here to fill in temporarily.”
In truth, Kyle suspected Hagrid and Madam Maxime were still with the Giants, attempting to recruit them to the Order of the Phoenix rather than the Death Eaters. It was a delicate and dangerous mission. The Giants were naturally violent, and the Death Eaters’ ideology was a far easier sell. Success would hinge entirely on Hagrid’s persuasiveness.
Not dwelling on the matter further, the group followed the crowd toward the carriages. Along the way, Kyle noticed Kanna sneaking glances at him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, curious.
“Nothing,” Kanna said, shaking her head. “I just feel like you’re in a good mood. Something good happen?”
“Sort of... but was it that obvious?” Kyle asked, touching his face as if checking for signs.
“Not obvious, but I can tell,” Kanna replied with a smile. “And on the train, you didn’t slack off either. You used to pass all the Prefect duties to Cedric.”
“She’s not wrong,” Cedric added quietly.
Kyle gave a sheepish laugh. “Don’t worry. That won’t happen again.”
“It better not,” Cedric said with mock sternness. “I’m in seventh year now—graduating next year. I can’t come back just to help you keep order.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Kyle said, grinning.
His good mood stemmed entirely from the previous night. After recounting to Newt every detail of his encounter with Voldemort and the Death Eaters’ subsequent schemes, Newt had finally set aside his idea of writing to Dumbledore.
Of course, Kyle had promised never to use the suitcase’s contents unless confronted by Death Eaters. It was an easy promise to make—Kyle had already decided as much beforehand.
Now armed with three powerful trump cards, Kyle felt more secure than ever. Even if he were to face Voldemort directly, he could hold his own long enough to escape unscathed.
Buoyed by this confidence, it was hard not to feel happy, though he hadn’t realized it was noticeable. Evidently, Kanna had a knack for reading him.
Still, she didn’t press further, and the group climbed into an empty carriage. The Thestrals pulling it began their steady journey toward the castle.
About ten minutes later, the carriage came to a halt at the stone steps leading to the oak front gates.
Fred was the first to jump off. He glanced toward the fields.
“There’s no light in Hagrid’s hut,” Fred observed, squinting toward the darkened structure.
“That’s for sure,” Cho agreed as she climbed down from the carriage. “If he were here, Mrs. Grubbly-Plank wouldn’t need to step in to welcome the first-years. Hurry up and get inside—it’s freezing out here.”
“Oh, okay,” Fred said quickly, jogging to catch up with the crowd making their way up the stone steps.
They passed through the warm, welcoming foyer and headed toward the doors of the Great Hall on the right, eager to join the Start-of-Term Feast.
“Look, I told you they’d make it,” Kyle said, pointing to the Gryffindor table as soon as they entered the hall.
Sure enough, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were seated at the front row, waving energetically. They were clearly the first to arrive, having already claimed their spots.
Kyle guessed that Mrs. Weasley must have used Apparition to transport them directly to Hogsmeade before they returned to the castle—a quick and efficient solution.
Fred and George immediately made a beeline for the Gryffindor table, eager to interrogate their siblings about the morning’s chaotic events. Cho peeled off toward the Ravenclaw table, while Kyle, Kanna, and Cedric found their way to the Hufflepuff table, settling into a row of empty seats along the side.
Once seated, Cedric anxiously scanned the teachers’ table.
“Oh, good,” he muttered with relief.
Sirius was seated in his usual place, signaling that he remained the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
Given the difficulty of finding reliable instructors for the cursed position, it was reassuring that Sirius was still there. While he might not be as skilled as Professor Moody, he was undeniably competent—certainly better than the likes of Quirrell or Lockhart.
The only question was how long Sirius would stay. Cedric hoped he could last through the semester. After that, Cedric would graduate, and the matter of professors would no longer concern him. That problem would fall squarely onto Kyle’s shoulders.
Lost in thought, Cedric suddenly noticed Kyle staring intently at the teacher’s table.
“What are you looking at?” he asked curiously.
Kyle shook his head, snapping out of his thoughts.
He had been surprised not to see Dolores Umbridge among the staff. However, upon reflection, it made sense.
Given recent events, Umbridge was likely preoccupied with the Wizengamot. Kyle had filed a formal application via owl to Amelia Bones at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement just days ago, and by now, the Wizengamot should have taken action. As someone directly implicated, Umbridge would have her hands full and no time to meddle at Hogwarts.
Good, Kyle thought, his mood brightening. At least he wouldn’t have to deal with that brainless tyrant for the time being.
Feeling considerably lighter, he even found himself enjoying the Sorting Hat’s song this year, though he had to admit it wasn’t particularly well-written. It seemed to be based on an existing melody, but with a serious, slightly disjointed warning tacked on: a call for unity among the students.
While most students discussed the oddity of the song, those more informed understood its true significance—the Sorting Hat was issuing a warning.
After the Sorting Hat finished its song, Professor McGonagall stepped forward, a list of new students in her hands. Her stern gaze swept over the students who were still whispering, and the hall quickly fell silent.
Scanning the list, she called out the first name loudly:
“Euan Abercrombie.”
A nervous boy stumbled forward and was eventually sorted into Gryffindor, prompting an enthusiastic round of applause from the house table.
The sorting continued, with the line of new students gradually dwindling. About half an hour later, the last name was called, and the final student was sorted into Hufflepuff.
Kyle joined in the applause, welcoming the new addition to his house.
With the sorting complete, the feast officially began. All sorts of delicious dishes appeared on the tables as if by magic. Those who had eaten only lightly on the train quickly turned their attention to the spread before them.
Kyle served himself a hearty piece of beef rib and made sure to grab an extra piece for Kanna. He remembered this dish as a specialty of the House-elves, something he had enjoyed once before during a late-night snack last year.
The meal concluded with an assortment of desserts. At Kanna’s recommendation, Kyle tried a pudding with orange marmalade. The sweet and tangy flavors provided the perfect finishing touch to the feast.
As the plates cleared themselves and the food vanished, Dumbledore stood, and the Great Hall once again fell silent.
“Well,” Dumbledore began, his tone cheerful yet commanding, “while we digest that sumptuous meal, I ask for your attention for the usual start-of-term reminders.”
His twinkling gaze swept the room as he continued.
“First-years are reminded that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off-limits to all students. This includes older students as well.”
A ripple of murmured agreement passed through the hall, and Dumbledore proceeded.
“There are also two changes to our teaching staff this year. First, Professor Moody is unable to continue teaching for certain reasons. However, I am pleased to announce that Professor Black has graciously agreed to take over the Defense Against the Dark Arts course for the next three years.”
A wave of applause erupted across the Great Hall—except at the Slytherin table, where the silence was deafening. It was no secret that Slytherins would prefer Sirius gone from Hogwarts, just as much as Gryffindors dreamed of Snape’s departure.
“And,” Dumbledore continued, “I am pleased to introduce Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be teaching Care of Magical Creatures as the interim until our Gamekeeper returns.”
Professor Grubbly-Plank rose from her seat, nodding politely. The applause that followed was polite and restrained.
“Lastly, this year’s Quidditch tryouts will take place during the second week of term.”
“Great!” Cedric exclaimed, pumping his fist in excitement.
He had been waiting for this moment. Last year, the Quidditch season had been canceled due to the Triwizard Tournament, and Cedric had been itching to get back on the pitch.
“Kyle,” Cedric said with a grin, “we’re definitely going to win the Quidditch Cup this year, right?”
“Of course,” Kyle said confidently. “Consider it your graduation gift.”
“That would be fantastic,” Cedric said, his smile broadening.
Kyle clapped him on the shoulder. “Since you’re in such a good mood… how about you take care of the new students next?”
“Sure, no problem,” Cedric replied without thinking.
A moment later, the clatter of chairs and the hum of conversation reminded him of what that meant.
Dumbledore had just announced the end of the feast, and the students were beginning to file out of the Great Hall, heading to their dormitories. Prefects were responsible for guiding the new students to their respective houses, ensuring they found their way safely.
Realizing Kyle had passed the responsibility onto him yet again, Cedric groaned inwardly. He had agreed without hesitation—and now he was stuck with the task.
