Hari glared at it.
“What is this stuff?”
Several of his erstwhile housemates looked at him.
“Food?”
“This isn’t food.
This is what happens if you let an instant ramen cook loose on the world.
Is there anything vaguely resembling nutrition in any of this?” He picked up a fork (a device he’d only come into contact with in the past week) and prodded what appeared to be a giant lump of meat that had been drenched in its own fat.
He’d been living in London for the past week and had found that the joys of a migrant community meant that he’d had access to at least some real food.
He sat back and watched as those around him began to eat with what could only be described as “gusto”.
Uncle Hidan ate that way.
So did Uncle Kakuzu sometimes.
Uncle Zetsu as well, but his father had explained that Uncle Zetsu was a special case.
Instead, Hari occupied himself with reading the lips of those around him.
It was quite disturbing to discover that approximately all of the conversation in the whole hall involved him and his sorting.
For some reason, people felt that this might be a bad sign because it involved the house that had been declared “dark”.
Hari wasn’t clear on this, but Slytherin seemed to be evil because some bad person had come out of it.
Or something.
No one was willing to say the name of whomever it was, so he was just guessing.
He was wishing he’d read more recent history texts instead of just the history of the school and his textbooks.
The greasy bat-person up at the teachers’ table made for interesting reading.
There were some words that his father had said he should never use being tossed around under the man’s breath. This chapter was copied from novelping.com without permission.
Hari wasn’t clear on why the man hated him since it looked like it was about his father, and he was fairly certain his dad had never been here before, so how could it be related?
The one who made Uncle Kisame nervous was arguing with he-of-the-white-beard about whether the hat could have made a mistake.
Hari was unhappy to admit that it hadn’t.
As much as it did not qualify as cunning to end up in the house known entirely for cunning, it made a certain amount of sense that the sorting wouldn’t take that into account.
It was probably sensible to stick the cunning, ambitious people (read: cutthroat sons of bitches) into one house to cut down on the bloodshed by keeping it in one place.
The rest of the conversations up there followed more along those lines.
The one thing that everyone in the whole room agreed on, Hari mused, was that he should have ended up in the house of the stupid.
Oh he knew from reading the history book about the school that it was called the house of the brave, but it was pretty clearly full of stupid people.
Uncle Hidan would love it, though—but it probably didn’t count if the person were immortal.
It was pretty boring.
Except for those twins with the red hair.
Those two made for interesting amusement throughout the meal.
Hari didn’t understand half of what they were saying, but he was able to gather they planned to prank him.
That would make things interesting, at least.
He would hate to get out of practice without Uncle Sasori occasionally trying to assassinate him without warning or trapping his bed.
Still, he might have to curtail their activities eventually.
It would depend how dull things were.
Suddenly the “food” (he was resolved to have strong words with someone over that) vanished and white-beard got up.
“Now that we are fed and watered,” he studiously ignored Hari’s not-so-quiet snort.
Firstly, Mr.
Filch would like me to alert the new students that there is a full list of forbidden objects posted on his door and that, thanks to Missers Weasley, it has been expanded yet again.
“To be specific, the entire catalogue of Zonko’s joke shop is now officially on the list, as are any of the products from the company that makes that rather terrific bubble gum that lets you hover for several .
.
.
well, anyway, the list is not negotiable, I’m talking to you, Fred and George Weasley.
“In addition to the forbidden objects, the Forbidden Forest is, shockingly enough, forbidden.
This, too, is not a negotiable point.
Any student stupid enough to go into the Forest will not be punished, we simply won’t go look for you.
Considering the nature of the dwellers in the Forest, I will remind the students that they should avoid it unless they are facing their Potions final.
“Quidditch practices will be posted by your heads of house in the common rooms in two-week’s time.
At that point, they will no doubt begin tryouts for open positions.
I remind you, and I’m speaking to Mister Malfoy here, that first years are, without exception, not allowed their own broomsticks.
Those who bring them will find that they are confiscated and used to update the school’s shoddy stock.
“I have one further announcement to make.
This year, the rooms on the east side of the third floor are forbidden to anyone who does not wish to die a truly remarkable death.
I realize that in a school of young people, some of you are certain to go exploring because of this warning, but by giving it, I am now covered as far as the board of directors is concerned.
I reiterate that the rooms on the east side of the third floor are forbidden and that any student who dies as a result of ignoring this warning will be buried in the usual mass grave in back of the castle reserved for those who have thankfully removed themselves from our society before their idiocy can do too much damage.
Thank you.
Now, time for bed.
Sleep well.” Dumbledore bowed and turned, walking out the staff entrance to the hall.