Professor Snape

Filch was a bedraggled middle-aged man who looked utterly haggard.

He had dry, gray-white hair around a bald pate, and his hunched back made it seem as though he suffered from arthritis or some similar ailment.

He was thin and gaunt, with loose skin, bulbous eyes, and a dark, sharp gaze. Even in the Great Hall, he was always warily scanning his surroundings.

His clothes were shabby and worn; even Ron's old robes looked far better than his.

But the Maine Coon at his feet was quite beautiful. Though somewhat thin, its fur was clean.

Harry sensed scattered traces of magic from the unremarkable Mr. Filch. Some belonged to Filch himself, chaotic and disordered, impossible to mobilize, while most of the rest were residual traces left behind by other people's spells.

He quickly concluded that Mr. Filch was a Squib of the Wizarding World—a pitiful man born into a wizarding family who could not cast magic.

He worked at Hogwarts, a Magic School, but could not cast spells himself. He could only watch the Young Wizards perform magic, and he was very likely discriminated against by some wizards.

If things were worse, mischievous Young Wizards like Ron's brothers Fred and George might even cast nasty spells on him or play pranks on him.

What seemed like simple jokes to Young Wizards could be terribly harmful to Mr. Filch.

Presumably, Mr. Filch would gladly pay even with his soul in exchange for magic.

Harry did not need much from him—loyalty, the freedom to roam at night, and a few insignificant Galleons would do.

He did not expect Mr. Filch to possess any great talent as a mage. After all, a Squib's talent should not be as strong as a wizard's.

Then what magic could he give this pitiful man?

The most basic telekinesis was essential. It was both convenient and somewhat capable in combat, making it nearly perfect magic.

Perhaps he could also give him magic such as the Magic Tracking Charm and Clairvoyance Detection.

They would be perfect tools for dealing with disobedient Young Wizards wandering about at night!

An unconscious mischievous smile curled across Harry's lips.

Dumbledore continued speaking. "And finally, I have a few words for you all: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

The other Young Wizards all looked confused, having no idea what those words meant.

Seeing the mischievous smile on Harry's face, Hermione assumed he knew and asked:

"Harry, do you know what Headmaster Dumbledore meant by that?"

Harry froze for a moment, then immediately realized that he actually did know.

"Those are the four Houses' derogatory terms for the other Houses.

Ravenclaw sees everyone else as nitwits, Gryffindor sees everyone else as crybabies, Slytherin sees everyone else as oddments, while the mildest Hufflepuffs think the Young Wizards from the other three Houses are all too twisted.

Of course, that's only my guess."

"So that's what it means." Hermione's eyes sparkled as she looked at Harry.

Harry was amazing. That was not something written in the books.

Dumbledore's speech ended in an instant, and Harry found himself liking the kindly old wizard more and more.

He was much like the Supreme Mage: both were very decisive. For instance, whenever the Supreme Mage encountered demons invading Earth, he would open with a forbidden spell without a word.

And Dumbledore did not ramble like those headmasters in the Muggle World. Perhaps they were the same kind of person.

With Dumbledore's speech over, the feast officially began.

Harry sensed a subtle spatial fluctuation, and the next moment, vast quantities of food appeared on the plates.

Roast lamb, roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, steaks, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, pea shoots, carrots, gravy, ketchup...

It had to be said that although the Wizarding World's magic was not particularly powerful, it was very convenient. Many basic spells involved knowledge that went extremely deep even by Kamar-Taj's standards.

For example, the Reparo spell, Reparo, involved the mysteries of time. That was magic only the Supreme Mage and a very small number of veteran mages could master.

And food appearing out of nowhere like that was not something one could accomplish without profound magical attainments.

Harry gradually realized that the Wizarding World's magic was not without its own merits. It was simply that, compared to Kamar-Taj, which had to face invasions from Dimensional Demons, the Wizarding World focused more of its attention on everyday life.

Perhaps that was why the food in the Wizarding World was genuinely delicious. Though Harry had tasted delicacies from many places, Hogwarts's food still gave him a fresh and unique feeling.

Ron was happily eating with a chicken leg in each hand, while the other Young Wizards chatted among themselves, discussing their families and the magic they had mastered as they made friends.

Many Young Wizards greeted Harry, including even the Slytherins, who were somewhat at odds with Gryffindor.

Harry responded to each of them with impeccable manners. Since he had needed to attend banquets held by powerful mages from other dimensions alongside the Supreme Mage, he had studied etiquette diligently. He could make any Young Wizard feel as though they were bathed in spring breezes.

Every Young Wizard who spoke with Harry developed a favorable impression of him. By the time he had dealt with them all, Harry was somewhat tired.

Only then did he have the chance to ask Percy beside him:

"Percy, who is the teacher talking with Professor Quirrell?"

Percy spotted Snape beside Professor Quirrell and answered Harry's question.

"That's Professor Snape, the head of Slytherin House."

"What subject does he teach?"

"Potions. Though I don't like him, he's a Potions Master and more than qualified to be the Potions professor.

But everyone knows Dark Magic is what interests him most. He's had his eye on Quirrell's position for years."

Harry nodded and thanked Percy for the explanation, then began to ponder.

A Potions Master? I remember my mother was a Potions Master too. He was Mum's friend, but Dad bullied him. Could that be why he both loves and hates me?

Harry felt that he had found the right answer. Perhaps he could ask Hagrid later; as a friend of his parents, Hagrid should know the answer.

Ron seemed especially fond of chicken legs. After finishing two, he wanted more. Just as he reached out to take another, he was startled by a transparent head that suddenly appeared.

It was the ghost of a man who did not seem to belong to the present age. He wore a ruff around his neck and looked like a knight.

Seeing that he had startled the Young Wizards, the ghost smiled in satisfaction.

"Hello, everyone. Welcome to Gryffindor!"

Ron carefully examined the ghost's appearance. After a moment, he remembered something and pointed at him.

"I know who you are! My two brothers told me about you. You're that 'Nearly Headless Nick'!"

Nick's face darkened. "I think I still prefer it when you call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington!"

A Young Wizard named Seamus Finnigan asked curiously:

"Nearly Headless? How could you be nearly headless?"

Harry immediately guessed what would happen next and promptly lowered his head, refusing to look at Sir Nicholas.

Sure enough, a chorus of startled cries rang out from the Young Wizards, while Hermione clung tightly to Harry's arm in fright.

At the sight of that bloody, severed neck, none of the Young Wizards except Harry had any appetite left.