Chapter Thirty-Seven: King of the Dinner Table
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Headmaster Dumbledore nodded, rose to his feet, and announced in a loud voice, “Let the feast begin!”
At once, sumptuous food and drink appeared on the four long tables. Golden plates and goblets gleamed brilliantly, their surfaces reflecting the candlelight in dazzling brilliance.
Harry stared in astonishment at the plate before him, piled high with roast beef, chicken legs, sausages, every kind of fruit, and rich gravy. He swallowed hard. He had never eaten food like this at the Dursleys’.
Beside him, Ron had already begun. He seized a chicken leg and a slice of steak, looking as though he might devour an entire pig in three bites.
Hermione happily served herself some herb-roasted chicken and baked potatoes. She still cared deeply about her dental health, selecting carefully from the dazzling array of food before her. Ice cream and all sorts of desserts were completely off-limits.
At the Slytherin table, Malfoy cheerfully clinked goblets with Crabbe and Goyle before tucking into roast pork chops and onion soup. Across from them, Rog sat upright, sampling the food before him with elegant but astonishing speed.
The Ravenclaw table stood right beside theirs. Seeing Rog’s clean-plate campaign, Elena could not help laughing. She raised her glass of juice toward him from across the room. She now believed Hermione’s description: “A bottomless stomach.”
Rog raised his own glass in return. He had to admit that the food prepared by the Hogwarts house-elves was truly excellent.
The lively feast soon attracted ghosts from every corner of the castle: the Bloody Baron, the Fat Friar, the Grey Lady, and Nearly Headless Nick.
As Rog enjoyed his delicious dinner, a ghost suddenly rose through the table to greet him. Fighting back his nausea, he told himself, “The wizarding world, the wizarding world…”
“Lady Grey, could you please stop emerging from underneath the table?” Rog really could not accept these people’s desecration of food. They made it seem like leftovers pulled from a freezer. He was forced to lodge a strong protest with the ghosts.
“A true lady respects food.” Rog swallowed a piece of steak, then, under the astonished gazes of the other young wizards, reached for another plate.
“That includes gentlemen, of course.” Before he had even finished speaking, Rog had polished off the steak before him.
The tower of plates piled up before him was impossible to overlook. More astonishing still, Rog ate with perfect elegance, yet at incredible speed. The strange contradiction left everyone staring at him in disbelief.
“A bottomless stomach.” Hermione’s eyes widened as she watched Rog continue his determined assault on the food. Only minutes before the train arrived, she had personally witnessed him devour a mountain of snacks.
“Rog.” Malfoy stood frozen. He had not yet finished his first steak, while all the food around him had already vanished.
“Does everyone in the Travis family eat this much?”
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“Special circumstances, special circumstances.” Rog offered no explanation. “It’s only been like this for the past month. It’ll be fine once this period passes.”
He gave a bitter smile. He did not want to be so peculiar either, but every cell in his body was shouting: Hungry! Hungry! Hungry!
“Burp.”
After finishing his sixth serving of ice cream, Rog finally felt about eighty percent full. The people around him breathed a sigh of relief, especially Professor McGonagall on the raised platform.
In theory, Snape should have been the one looking after the newest member of his house. But the Slytherin head of house was deep in conversation with Professor Quirrell and had not noticed at all that his house had acquired a new student with a terrifying appetite.
If Rog continued eating like this, Professor McGonagall would have to consider sending him to the hospital wing for Madam Pomfrey to examine him properly.
“Good grief, eating is exhausting!” Rog stretched his arms and sighed from the bottom of his heart.
The young wizards beside him opened and closed their mouths speechlessly. Anyone who ate like that would be exhausted—even a dragon.
When the feast ended, Malfoy had still eaten only one steak. His first day at school had gone terribly. Harry had rejected his friendship in front of every young wizard present.
Then he had encountered a bizarre fellow from the Travis family at the feast, and had not even managed to eat his fill. The others looked at Rog with bitter smiles. Next time they ate, they would make certain to sit as far away from him as possible.
The Slytherin common room lay in another direction, and from the Great Hall onward, the house parted ways with the other three. The prefect, Marcus, led the first-years to the entrance of a secret passage.
It was an apparently ordinary stretch of wall. Marcus approached it and spoke the password: “Green Silver.”
At once, a smooth serpentine body made of bricks and stone rose from the base of the wall. Slowly, it arched into the shape of a doorway, revealing the entrance behind it.
“The password changes every two weeks. Remember this: the new password will be posted in advance on the noticeboard in the common room.” Marcus looked at the new students and repeated the password once more.
The first-years nodded and filed in behind him. As the archway slowly descended, the wall returned to its seamless state.
They entered a dim passage. Moss along the walls gave off a green phosphorescence, and at the far end stood a luxurious common room.
The common room was located beneath the lake and built from black Gothic marble. Its ceiling was a transparent hemisphere carved from crystal; during the day, one could see the rippling water above.
Green-glowing lamps hung from chains overhead. A fireplace stood inside, crowned by an exquisitely carved mantel, with several ornately carved chairs nearby. Through the windows, one could often see enormous squid or other strange creatures drifting past.
“Welcome to Slytherin. The boys’ dormitories are on the left, and the girls’ dormitories are on the right.” Marcus looked over the new students and decided that this year’s Slytherin intake was quite promising.
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“Your luggage has already been delivered to your dormitories by the school’s house-elves. Our house may be rather far from the owlery, but…” Marcus smiled, revealing his large, protruding front teeth. “Every Slytherin student has a private room. There will be a nameplate on each door, so I trust you will all be able to find your rooms.”
“If you are caught wandering around the school at night by the caretaker—yes, Filch and that detestable red-eyed cat of his—the points you lose will be yours to earn back.”
“Our head of house, Professor Snape, is an outstanding wizard. You will come to appreciate that during your studies.”
“In addition, our house has won the House Cup for six consecutive years. I hope everyone will work together to achieve a seventh victory in a row.”
Marcus’s words made the first-years’ eyes light up. Expectations and pride in Slytherin rose spontaneously within them.
Rog nodded. It seemed that Marcus, who had been so unlikable in the films, was not entirely useless after all. Otherwise, he could never have become a prefect by relying on Quidditch alone.
The female prefect, Emily, began speaking. “First-year students have seven subjects this year: Transfiguration, Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts…”
Her voice was clear and pleasant as she distributed the timetables she had prepared herself. “We will share some classes with our old rivals, Gryffindor.”
After explaining the schedule, she smiled faintly. “In the head of house’s Potions class, all you need to do is avoid behaving like idiots.”
“There are no wizards more foolish than Gryffindors,” Marcus added with a laugh.
“Prefects are selected in the fifth year, and boys are not permitted to enter the girls’ dormitories.” Emily nodded as she added this final reminder.
They still had high hopes for this group of new students. Malfoy appeared to possess the makings of a leader, having already acquired Crabbe and Goyle as followers upon arriving at school. As for Rog Travis, he seemed to be nothing more than a pure-blood with an unusually large appetite.
“Curfew is from eleven at night until six the following morning.” Emily took out her pocket watch and glanced at it before reminding them, “Wizards without their own owls may borrow one from the public owlery in the West Tower. If you need to do so, you had better hurry. Curfew begins in an hour.”
The first-years hurried off to find their rooms. Rog found his own as well and pushed open the door. His luggage had already been brought inside by the house-elves. On the desk nearby lay the wand Professor McGonagall had confiscated, along with a letter and a small booklet beneath it.
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