Peeves's Discovery

Harry did not care much about Snape's reaction. After all, in his understanding, Slytherins were all full of contrasts. Ominis, for instance, was the typical cold-faced, warm-hearted sort—while Sebastian was warm-faced and cold-hearted.

And Snape, as the Old Snake King of Slytherin House, was the most contradictory of them all—perfectly reasonable, wasn't it?

He lowered his head and looked back at the feast before him.

It had still been noon when he ate snacks on the train, and he had been hungry for quite a while now.

By the time he finished the steak on his plate, the food on the Dining Table before him had transformed into all sorts of little desserts.

British people could not live without afternoon tea and after-dinner desserts, just as the 3D zone could not live without Tifa.

If he absolutely had to choose between the two, afternoon tea was still more important.

In the end, even the desserts on the table vanished.

Professor Dumbledore rose once more, and the dining hall fell silent again.

"Now that we are all fed and watered, I must say a few more words to you all. At the start of term, I would like to draw your attention to several matters."

"First Year Students should note that the woods on the grounds are strictly forbidden to all pupils—and some of our older students would do well to remember that too."

Dumbledore's bright eyes swept toward the Weasley twins through his half-moon spectacles.

The meaning was perfectly clear: by "older students," I do not mean anyone else. I mean you two troublesome boys!

The Gryffindor students all turned their eyes on the Weasley twins along with the Headmaster.

After all, most of Gryffindor's lost points had been deducted because of those two.

"Also, our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you all that no magic is to be used between classes in the corridors."

Filch stood not far away with a red-eyed cat in his arms. At the sound of Dumbledore's voice, he gave a sharp snort through his nose.

"Furthermore, trials for the Quidditch teams will be held during the second week of this term. Any student wishing to play for their House team should contact Madam Hooch, the Flying Lesson instructor."

"Lastly, I must tell you that anyone who does not wish to meet with an accident and die a painful death should avoid the corridor on the right-hand side of the fourth floor."

Harry grinned, barely able to hold back his laughter.

Honestly, there was nowhere in Hogwarts that he had not been. He had even been fortunate enough to visit the Slytherin study with Verathea.

The process had not exactly been pleasant, though.

"He can't be serious, can he?" Harry whispered to Percy.

"Impossible." Percy frowned toward Dumbledore. "What's strange is that whenever there is somewhere we are not allowed to go, he usually explains why. For example, everyone knows there are many dangerous beasts in the woods—I think he should at least explain it clearly to us Prefects."

"Clearly, Headmaster Dumbledore has his own little secret," Harry said quietly to Percy. "The sort he does not want anyone else to know."

"That makes sense." Percy nodded in understanding.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore announced loudly. Harry noticed, however, that the smiles on the other teachers' faces seemed to have frozen.

With a light flick of his wand, Dumbledore sent a long golden ribbon streaming from its tip. It twisted and coiled like a snake above the high Dining Table, forming lines of words.

"Everyone choose their favorite tune," Dumbledore said. "Ready—sing!"

The teachers and students all began singing at the top of their lungs:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts..."

Since the song had no fixed melody, everyone sang it in whatever tune they liked, completely unconcerned with whether they were in time with one another.

The entire Great Hall became a bigger mess than Knockturn Alley, and Harry immediately understood why the professors wore those expressions.

He remembered what the Sorting Hat had said: Dumbledore had enrolled in the school the year after Phineas Black disappeared. That meant he, too, had suffered under Phineas Black's torment.

Perhaps this was a retaliatory act against having to rehearse a chorus in a different tune every year while he was at school, Harry thought. But he swore that he would rather rehearse a chorus with Phineas in a single tune than endure this torture.

By the end, only the Weasley twins were still singing, following the slow melody of the "Funeral March."

Dumbledore conducted the final few bars for them with his wand. When they finished, his applause was the loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping at his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, it is time for bed. Off to your Dormitories, everyone."

The Prefects of each year stepped forward. The new students of the various Houses followed behind Hufflepuff Prefect Gabriel Truman, Ravenclaw Prefect Penelope Clearwater, Slytherin Prefect Gemma Farley, and Gryffindor Prefect Percy Weasley toward their respective common rooms.

When the Slytherin and Gryffindor groups crossed paths, Harry noticed Draco hanging his head in dejection.

It was probably because twenty points had been deducted in advance. After all, the Malfoy family could not exactly cover the sky with one hand in Slytherin.

Even if his surname were Gaunt, he would not be able to do that.

Gemma Farley was a striking Slytherin beauty, but her face was stern at the moment. She seemed extremely annoyed that Malfoy had had points deducted by his own Head of House.

For someone to lose points even from a Head of House who usually favored their own House, one could imagine just how serious an error he had committed.

"Harry, did you see that?" Ron jabbed Harry in the ribs. "Look at Malfoy's face—it looks as awful as if he'd eaten shit!"

"He deserved it," Harry said with equal delight at Draco's misfortune.

They had not gone more than a few steps when the people ahead suddenly stopped.

In front of them, a bundle of walking sticks floated in midair, with Percy only a single step away from the people behind him.

The people at the back were afraid of bumping into Percy, so they all stopped as well.

The effect traveled down the line like dominoes, with one person bumping into the next.

"It's Peeves," Percy whispered to the First Year Students. "A ghost who specializes in pranks."

He raised his voice again. "Peeves—show yourself."

The answer was a loud, piercing series of popping noises, like a balloon deflating.

"Do you want me to fetch the Bloody Baron?" Percy threatened.

With a pop, a comical dwarf-like ghost suddenly appeared. He wore brightly colored clothes and a large top hat; just from his appearance alone, it was obvious he was no good.

Contrary to Percy's expectations, Peeves did not immediately start causing trouble. Instead, as though he had discovered a new continent, he stared at the First Year Students amid the crowd.

"Peeves! They're only First Year Students! If you pull any more pranks, I'll go get the Bloody Baron right now—"

Percy's threat had no effect whatsoever. Peeves swooped and spun through the air until he arrived above Harry's head.

"The great Peeves seems to have spotted an old acquaintance—"