Quirrell noticed that the young Lions in particular wore miserable expressions despite the delicious food in their mouths.
Quirrell curled his lip. These young wizards were never satisfied. Could their suffering possibly compare to his?
Quirrell also noticed how quiet the Ravenclaw Table was. Only a dozen or so young Eagles were eating dinner there, looking unsettled and distracted despite the wonderfully delicious food.
Hmph. Another bunch who had no idea how good they had it.
Some of the Eagles tried to pack up the Chinese dishes, only for the food to disappear. They could only fill their baskets with the usual fare.
The baskets were packed to the brim. Anyone who did not know better might have thought Hogwarts was about to run out of food.
Quirrell knew that the long tables in the Great Hall had teleportation magic on them. Matching tables stood in the kitchen, controlled by the kitchen House-elves.
So why were these House-elves refusing to let anyone take those unfamiliar dishes away?
He had been planning to take some back for a late-night snack himself.
The food-loving young Hufflepuffs, these Little Badgers, were eating with gusto, finishing their own portions of Chinese food before moving on to the other dishes.
Although the Little Badgers grumbled a little about the Chinese dishes being less plentiful than at lunch, they had yet to notice anything unusual.
Still, the Little Badgers kept casting envious glances at the head of the Slytherin table.
There was no such thing as a limit where Shawn sat. His spread was even more lavish than usual, making the Little Badgers swallow hungrily.
Life was so good when you followed Shawn.
Quirrell also glanced toward the Slytherin table from time to time, recalling the chatter of the young wizards he had passed earlier.
He