Harry returns from Hogwarts Legacy

Chapter 371 Extra Chapter 3: A Strange Dream

By this time, Harry was very hungry.

He had eaten some snacks at noon, along with lunch that Gareth had brought from home. After walking for a long time on the dark, cold, rugged, and steep road, his stomach had already started to rumble loudly.

The last student to be sorted was Gareth, who was sorted into Gryffindor as he had hoped.

Or rather, it is strange in itself that a red-haired boy would not be sorted into Gryffindor.

After the Sorting Ceremony, Professor Weasley left with the Sorting Hat and the list.

At this moment, Principal Phineas Black stood up, a very annoying and irritating smile on his face, his mustache twitching as he began to speak.

"Before the semester begins, I have a few words to say to everyone..."

The older students in Gryffindor immediately lowered their heads listlessly.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked a senior student next to him in a low voice.

"Just wait and see," the senior student wailed. "Principal Blake will definitely not finish his speech in less than half an hour."

As this senior student said, Principal Blake's speech lasted for nearly an hour before he reluctantly ended it.

"Therefore, I hope everyone can grow and learn safely and healthily at school. Also, I need to add that Quidditch matches are still prohibited this semester—"

The students immediately let out a sigh of lament.

"Alright, I think everyone is hungry." Principal Blake, seemingly oblivious to any wrongdoing, spread his arms and declared, "Now, I declare the banquet open!"

At that moment, the students' plates were instantly filled with delicious food.

Harry stared in disbelief. He had never seen so many of his favorite foods laid out on the table at once: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, steak, boiled potatoes, baked potatoes, potato chips, Yorkshire pudding, pea shoots, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and for some strange reason, mint hard candies.

To be honest, he had eaten these things before. After all, when he was at the Dursleys' house, the Dursleys didn't forbid Harry from eating. It was just that Dudley, that wig-wearing pig, always liked to steal Harry's food.

But eating as much as he wanted today, without anyone competing with him for food, was a first for him.

“It looks really good,” a ghost in a ruffled collar said sadly as he watched Harry cut the steak.

"Won't you have some?"

“I haven’t eaten for over three hundred years,” the ghost said regretfully. “I don’t need to eat, but of course I miss their deliciousness—I suppose I haven’t introduced myself yet? Sir Nicholas of Minsey-Poppington, resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower.”

“Oh, I know you!” Gareth said, pointing at the ghost. “Nick the almost headless one, isn’t he?”

Harry wisely refrained from interrupting.

"Almost headless?" A sweet voice came from the Hufflepuff table not far away. "How could you almost be headless?"

Harry turned around and saw the little girl from the Sorting Ceremony, wasn't her name Poppy Sweeting?

“It’s a secret,” Sir Nicholas turned and gave Sweeting a mysterious smile, “but I’d love to share it with others—look.”

He grabbed his left ear and pulled it down, his head swaying and sliding off his neck to rest on his shoulder, as if it were hinged together.

It seems someone tried to cut off his head, but not completely.

“Oh!” Sweeting exclaimed, “By Merlin, you look very bad, very bad…”

"What?" Sir Nicholas asked, pulling his head back onto his neck.

“It’s nothing,” Sweeting said, waving his hand.

Harry didn't pay much attention; he just kept his head down and ate his meal.

There is nothing more important in this world than being full; if there is, it is eating until you are stuffed.

After everyone had eaten their fill, the remaining food disappeared from the plates, leaving the plates and forks spotless.

After a while, the pudding arrived. There was an all-around selection of ice cream flavors: apple pie, syrup pie, chocolate muffin, jam donuts, liqueur-soaked jam pudding, strawberry, jelly, rice pudding… Harry took a piece of crème brûlée, and the conversation then turned to their respective families.

“I’m from Uganda, and both my parents are wizards,” Natsa Onai said. “I was planning to go to Waggadu to study magic, but my mother brought me to England.”

“And what about you, Randall?” Gareth asked, turning to Randall Pluvitt.

“My parents are both pure-blood wizards,” Randall Pluvitt said. “I’m quite interested in Gobstone. Does anyone here like Gobstone? I wonder if there’s a Gobstone Club at Hogwarts? I’d like to apply to join.”

“There should be,” Gareth said with a smile.

“By the way, I have some rather wild magical plants at home,” Randall said mysteriously. “These plants come from China—a very far away place. They have a bad temper and like to bite.”

“Oh, could it be Chinese man-eating cabbage?!” Eric Northcott asked excitedly.

“Yes,” Randall replied with a grin. “I’ll bring it to school sometime and let everyone see it—and what about you, Quixida?”

Quixda Bloom appeared to be French; Harry noticed he was wearing a beret.

He was so certain because he knew the French couldn't live without their berets—he just didn't know if the French of this era still had this habit.

“Oh,” Quesida said, “I’m half and half. My mother is a wizard, but my father isn’t. He was very excited when he found out I was a wizard, and that’s when he found out my mother was a wizard too.”

“Absolutely amazing,” Gareth said.

Harry turned his head and looked towards the main seating area.

Sitting next to Headmaster Black was Vice-Headmaster Matilda Weasley—these were the only two professors Harry knew… Oh, and Gladwin Moon, though he wasn’t a professor, he was still considered a staff member.

"Want to get to know these professors?" Gareth chuckled when he saw Harry's gaze. "Don't worry, you'll get to know them once you start classes, but..."

He nudged Harry with his elbow and said with a mysterious smile, "Did you see her? That youngest and prettiest professor... Ah, the beautiful professor with the two braids... Yes, she's our Herbology Professor, and also the Head of Hufflepuff, Professor Garrick."

"Garlic?" Harry muttered.

"What?" Gareth didn't hear clearly.

“It’s nothing,” Harry said with a shrug.

At that moment, he saw Professor Garrick raise his head, meet his gaze, and then give him a sweet and gentle smile.

For a fleeting moment, Harry felt he should have been sorted into Hufflepuff. They were indeed very beautiful, Professor Garrick…

“It’s too late for you to switch houses now,” Gareth said with a sly grin. “Even though Professor Garrick is beautiful, you can’t go to Hufflepuff. You can only try to befriend her in Herbology class.”

Finally, the desserts on the table also disappeared.

Professor Weasley tapped his glass with a spoon, making a tinkling sound, and the auditorium fell silent.

Principal Blake stood up, cleared his throat, and said, "Oh, now that everyone has eaten and drunk their fill, I'd like to say a few more words to you all."

A chorus of low complaints immediately filled the auditorium.

Harry had a feeling that the headmaster would definitely drag things out for another half hour.

"At the beginning of the semester, I would like to remind everyone of a few things," Professor Black said solemnly. "First-year students, please note that students are strictly prohibited from entering the wooded areas on campus—some of our older students should also remember this."

"Furthermore, if you want to go to Hogsmeade, try not to travel alone," Professor Black continued. "Also, there are Floo Flames in the school. First-year students can learn how to use them from the upperclassmen. As for Floo Powder, you will have to pay for it yourself."

He rambled on for another ten minutes or so before Principal Black finally stopped speaking, reluctantly, after being reminded by Professor Weasley.

“He can really talk, can he?” Harry muttered to Gareth.

“You’ll get used to it,” Gareth said through gritted teeth. “I heard his longest record is an hour and a half…”

Harry couldn't imagine how much he would talk about in an hour and a half.

After finishing his speech, Principal Black said again, "It's bedtime now. Everyone, go back to your dormitories with your prefects."

Among the seats of the four colleges, the male and female class leaders of each college stood up.

“I am the prefect of Gryffindor,” said a beautiful blonde girl. “My name is Emilia Crouch. First-year Gryffindor students, please follow me.”

The Gryffindor students followed Miss Crouch as they walked through the noisy crowd, out of the dining hall, and up the marble staircase.

Harry's legs felt like lead again, but this time it was because he was too tired and had eaten too much.

He was so tired that Harry wasn't even surprised when the people in the portraits in the corridor whispered and pointed as they passed by.

Harry yawned repeatedly and dragged his heavy steps up many more flights of stairs.

At the end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very wealthy woman dressed in pink.

"Password?" she said.

“Quid Agis,” Miss Crouch replied.

The painting wobbled and moved forward, revealing a circular hole in the wall.

“What does that mean?” Harry asked Gareth in a low voice.

Gareth gritted his teeth and said, "I don't know either."

Perhaps Miss Crouch heard Harry's question, for as he passed by her, she whispered, "The password is 'How are you,' in Latin."

“Thank you, Miss Crouch,” Harry said.

Miss Crouch smiled at him.

She pointed the boys through a door—at the top of a spiral staircase—to their dorm rooms, and then led the girls through another door.

There were six boys in total. The dormitory room had six beds with four curtain posts and dark red flannel curtains hanging down.

"Today's food was so plentiful," Randall said, rubbing his stomach. "I almost don't want to eat breakfast tomorrow."

“Just kidding,” Gareth said with a smirk. “I bet you’ll eat more than anyone else tomorrow morning! You believe me?”

Randall didn't answer; he just laughed heartily.

"Anyone want to play a round of Gobu Stone?" he asked again. "I feel like we could play one more round before going to bed, what do you guys think?"

"Goblin?" Harry propped himself up on his elbows and asked curiously, "What is Goblin?"

"Come on, you don't even know Gobstone?" Randall rolled his eyes.

“Harry isn’t from a pure-blood wizarding family, so of course he wouldn’t know what Gobstone is,” Gareth said, speaking up for Harry.

“Okay, Gob Stones is a game—but it’s usually only played by people our age. It’s played with special stones, similar to Muggle pinball, but the main difference is that when one side loses a point, the stones spray a foul-smelling liquid in the loser’s face.”

Randall added with a hint of resentment, "It's a pity, it's a pity that this game is relatively niche in the magical world, it's really not cool at all!"

“It’s really too late, Randall,” Lawrence Davis said. “Look at the time! If Gobstone loses, he’ll get that nasty stuff sprayed in his face. Aren’t you going to get any sleep tonight?”

“You have a point,” Randall yawned. “But it shouldn’t be even nine o’clock yet, right? Isn’t it a bit…”

“What is it?” Gareth asked.

“Please!” Randall said, spreading his hands. “We’ve finally left home, finally stopped being told by Mom to go to bed early, and now we can manage our own time. Are we still supposed to follow the rules and go to bed at nine o’clock?”

After hearing what Randall said, everyone suddenly felt less sleepy.

But Harry was an exception; he was genuinely sleepy.

However, in order to fit in, Harry forced himself to keep his eyes open and listen to what these people were talking about.

However, Randall's idea was good; he had eaten so much that he was getting sleepy.

He fell asleep after exchanging only a few words.

Before long, the sound of even breathing rose and fell, and everyone drifted off to sleep.

Harry was no exception; he had a very strange dream in which he dreamt of the blonde little girl—the one with the surname Malfoy. In his dream, his first meeting with this Malfoy girl was not pleasant—or rather, it wasn't the Malfoy girl at all, but a little boy with the same surname, Malfoy.

He fought with himself on their very first meeting because he spoke ill of the Weasleys.

However, when he woke up the next day, he had forgotten the dream.

(End of this chapter)