People always said that mental patients had wonderfully expansive minds, while goofy kids had all the fun.
Gryffindor probably had no mental patients among its students, but it certainly had plenty of goofballs. As they watched Harry approach, they all grew flushed with excitement. They stopped just short of wiggling their bottoms and dancing like Fred and George.
Even Percy, Ron's very serious third-oldest brother, eagerly held out both hands when he saw Harry coming toward them. Yes, Harry once again found himself shaking hands with a whole crowd of people.
All things considered, Gryffindor certainly wasn't the worst choice. At least Harry thought it was better than Slytherin. Perhaps it was a little better than Hufflepuff, too. But given the choice, Harry would definitely have preferred Ravenclaw.
There were two reasons for that. First, the Gryffindors were simply too noisy, especially the Weasley twins who had scrambled to sit beside him. They were so loud that Harry felt an urge to cover his ears.
The second reason was a little embarrassing to admit. Judging by what he could see, Ravenclaw seemed to have just a few more girls than the other houses. Harry had also spotted several very pretty ones among them.
His slight resentment toward Gryffindor more or less vanished once Ron was sorted into the same house.
After all, he had enjoyed spending time with the other three kids on the train. Since fate had brought all four of them together in Gryffindor, that was something to be happy about.
Interestingly, Ron kept muttering something under his breath when the Sorting Hat was put on him. But almost the instant it touched his head, the hat shouted out Gryffindor.
Harry noticed Ron visibly breathe a sigh of relief. He guessed Ron must have been repeating, I want Gryffindor. I want Gryffindor.
At that thought, an amused smile crept onto Harry's face.
When Ron arrived at the Gryffindor table, his serious brother Percy happily told the people beside him, "He's my brother, my youngest brother. Another Gryffindor in our family."
After the final student was sorted into Slytherin, Deputy Headmistress McGonagall rolled up the parchment in her hand and left the center of the Great Hall carrying the Sorting Hat.
Harry, meanwhile, had begun staring blankly at the elegant tableware in front of him. His earlier nervousness had faded, replaced by intense hunger. Though he had eaten plenty at lunchtime and had quite a few snacks afterward, he still felt very hungry now.
Just then, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore rose from his seat at the center of the High Table.
Unlike the rather solemn portraits of him on wizard cards and in books, the real Dumbledore before Harry wore a constant, cheerful smile. That made him quite different from the Neil Harry remembered.
Harry had no idea whether Neil was naturally fierce or had merely looked that way because he had been trying to take over Harry's body.
In any case, Harry remembered Neil as a ferocious-looking old man, whereas the Dumbledore before him looked like a kindly old man with a cheerful smile.
Combined with Dumbledore's slightly comical nose and amusing-looking glasses, that dispelled much of the wariness Harry had originally felt toward him because of Neil.
Harry had expected Dumbledore to deliver a dreary, long-winded speech. Back in primary school, his headmaster had given one every year when the new students arrived.
To his surprise, Dumbledore's address was very brief. Only his final words, "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" seemed utterly disconnected from everything else, leaving Harry bewildered.
Amid the applause around him, Harry cautiously asked Percy beside him, "Is Dumbledore a bit..." As he spoke, he circled a finger beside his head, gesturing to ask whether the man had a screw loose.
Unfortunately, that gesture didn't seem to exist in the wizarding world. Percy looked completely blank.
Harry could only lower his voice further and ask, "Is he a little... you know... barmy?"
Even Harry hesitated as he asked the question. After all, every description and account of Dumbledore he had read in books had been lavish in its praise.
"Barmy?" Percy gave a faint smile at that, but he also lowered his voice as he said:
"He's a genius, one of the finest wizards in the world. Perhaps the finest, full stop. You know how it is-ordinary people can never understand how a genius thinks. But you're not wrong, either. He is a bit barmy sometimes. Well, perhaps quite often."
Harry was dumbstruck. He felt the image of this legendary figure, hailed as the shining light of British wizardry, come crashing down in his mind.
Before he could think any further about it, however, the table in front of him changed.
The previously empty platters were now piled high with food. Not only did it all look and smell delicious, there were even desserts.
The food Harry had eaten while living with the Dursley family had actually been fairly good. Aunt Petunia often fancied herself a gourmet, though her abilities were really nothing special. At least, Harry thought her cooking fell well short of the Leaky Cauldron's.
Of course, even the Leaky Cauldron was noticeably inferior to some of the upscale restaurants Harry had eaten at. Once Uncle Vernon's income had risen significantly, the family had begun visiting fancy restaurants every so often. Harry had eaten at Michelin-starred restaurants, too.
Yet even the food from Michelin-starred restaurants seemed to pale beside the feast before him.
With his stomach already protesting, Harry naturally had no attention to spare for anything else. He grabbed a few pieces of cured sausage nearby and stuffed them into his mouth. But the moment he did, a thought struck him: Wasn't this a little inelegant for a wizard?
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