Sheeran walked slowly down the steps and headed towards the Slytherin long table.
Many complicated gazes were fixed on him, following his figure as he moved.
Professor McGonagall held the Sorting Hat in her hands, turning it over and over, and couldn’t help sighing repeatedly.
She never expected that Sheeran would actually be sorted into Slytherin.
Hermione, on the other hand, raised her head high, peering at Sheeran’s figure through the gaps in the crowd with a very complicated gaze.
She had originally thought she would be sorted into the same house as Sheeran.
Dumbledore withdrew his gaze, stood up, and spread his arms.
“Welcome.
Welcome to Hogwarts.
It is a new school year, and nothing is more pleasing than seeing you all.”
After speaking, Dumbledore chanted a spell, and the previously empty dining tables instantly piled up with steaming food.
Roast beef, roast pork chops, sausages, steaks… piled up like small mountains one after another.
There were also boiled potatoes, baked potatoes, and potato chips.
Three dishes out of a single potato…
One had to admit that Britain’s recipes truly lived up to their reputation.
Sheeran used his dinner fork to take some steak and sausage onto his plate, then slowly sliced off pieces of meat with his dinner knife, placing them into his mouth to chew slowly.
Unlike some ravenous young wizards who ate directly with their hands, his movements were elegant, unhurried, and perfectly matched the image of a pure-blood aristocrat.
At first, he didn’t like this kind of pretense.
“He was starving, yet he had to put on airs and eat slowly—who was he putting on a show for?” But later he discovered that only by doing this could he be convincing, stand out, and cultivate a dignified bearing.
Therefore, even when he was in the orphanage, wearing ragged clothes like the other children and eating tasteless bread, the other children still felt that, “Sheeran is different.”
It was precisely this “difference” that made people convinced.
Sometimes, you have to fake it until you make it.
Back in the orphanage, Sheeran had always been training himself.
Practicing etiquette and being polite was also one of his methods.
“Your last name is Prewett?” An unpleasant voice rang out.
“I heard that everyone in the Prewett family is dead.
Aren’t you an impostor?”
Theodore Nott had not taken the bet with Sheeran before, and some young wizards had spread this matter around, earning him the title of the “Slytherin Coward.”
This made him feel completely humiliated.
Now seeing Sheeran sorted into Slytherin, he fancied that he had come to his home turf, so he eagerly crowded over, wanting to redeem himself.
Sheeran didn’t even glance at him, just sliced a piece of sausage with his dinner knife and chewed it slowly.
“Do you like eating that much?”
Feeling ignored, Theodore Nott flew into a rage from embarrassment, stepped over the bench, grabbed a dinner knife nearby, and stabbed it into the sausage on Sheeran’s plate.
“Mr.
Nott, if you want to eat, you can sit down and eat slowly.
There is plenty more here.” Sheeran swallowed the food in his mouth and slowly spoke.
Are you a pig?!”
Hermione, beside the Gryffindor long table, kept her eyes fixed on Sheeran while eating.
The commotion over here quickly caught her attention.
Sheeran smiled at her, signaling that he was fine.
Theodore, who had been constantly ignored, noticed Sheeran looking at Hermione and sneered, “What, looking at your Mudblood girlfriend?
That little bi—”
Before he could finish his sentence, he suddenly felt a sharp pain from his foot.
Before he had time to shriek, Sheeran abruptly reached out, grabbed his wrist, and pressed it down onto the table.
Then he snatched up the dinner knife in front of him and viciously stabbed it between his fingers.
“You should really thank your lucky stars you didn’t say that word.”
The smile on Sheeran’s face completely vanished, replaced by an aloof and icy expression.
“Otherwise, the welcome feast would probably turn into a painful memory for you.”
Sheeran gripped the handle of the dinner knife and pressed down slowly, the blade cutting a gap into Theodore’s finger.
Theodore cried out in pain, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he heard Sheeran’s warning.
“Quiet!”
“Otherwise I’ll cut off your fingers and feed them to the dogs!”
The icy words made Theodore’s body shudder violently.
Despite the excruciating pain, he didn’t dare make a sound.
“Miss Granger is a truly kind person, and I will not allow anyone to insult her in front of me.” When Sheeran mentioned Hermione, a gentle smile finally appeared on his face.
When he spoke again, his voice smoothly shifted from gentle to cold: “Do you understand?”
“I-I understand…”
Theodore answered tremblingly, cold sweat pouring down his forehead.
That dinner knife was pressed tightly against his finger joints, and the fresh blood seeping from the wound flowed down the blade onto the dining table.
He had originally just wanted to come over and talk big for a few sentences to regain some face, but never expected that Sheeran would actually resort to physical action directly.
He couldn’t help glancing at the staff table.
Thinking that if he cried out for help, Sheeran might immediately be given detention by the professors.
Noticing his gaze, Sheeran wore a half-smile.
“Are you thinking of crying out for help to the professors?”
Theodore’s heartbeat skipped a beat, and he was filled with utter terror.
He had clearly only glanced at the staff table, so how did he know what he was thinking?
As a first-year student, he couldn’t possibly know Legilimency, could he?
“You can try calling for help and see whether they arrive faster, or your fingers break faster.”
“Want to make a bet?”
“If you win, I get detention, and you get to save face.
If you lose, it’s just losing a few fingers.”
“How about it?
Want to try?”
Sheeran’s smile was quite playful.
Crying for help might actually be useful right now, but that would be after his fingers were broken.
Moreover, looking at his half-smiling expression, there might be some trap waiting for him to walk into.
“I’m not stupid.”
“I’ll find a chance to deal with you later!”
Theodore didn’t know that Sheeran actually had no follow-up plan prepared at all.
If he called for the professors now, Sheeran would immediately stop.
Theodore had only been cut on the hand.
He could easily say it was an accident, or that he acted out of righteous anger because this fellow spoke rudely.
At that time, at most he would just get some detention.
Furthermore, Sheeran had calculated that this fellow was a coward.
He didn’t dare to bet with him earlier when conflicting with Neville, and now that he was in his grasp, he would dare even less.
Sure enough, Theodore immediately caved and apologized hurriedly.
A classmate nearby noticed that something was amiss between the two of them and craned their neck to look over.
Sheeran pulled out the dinner knife and sliced a piece of sausage.
“Mr.
Nott, try it.
It tastes amazing.”
“T-Thank you.”
Hearing Nott actually say thank you, that student thought he had misheard.
How could this arrogant and domineering Mr.
Nott suddenly become so easy to talk to as if he had changed into a different person?
Could it be that this Prewett’s charm was simply too great?
Seeing the smile on Sheeran’s face, Theodore broke out in cold sweat, his legs went limp, and he collapsed onto the bench.
After slicing the sausage, Sheeran popped it into his own mouth instead.
“Since Mr.
Nott doesn’t like to eat it, then don’t disturb my meal.
Seeing you makes me sick.”
Theodore didn’t react for a moment, sitting blankly on the bench.
“Why aren’t you getting lost?”
Seeing that this fellow not only didn’t leave, but actually sat down, Sheeran gave him another kick.
Nott then limped away, though his gaze remained venomous.
Sheeran didn’t care what he thought.
Under the blessing of Spell Inspiration, his Reparo was already at a masterclass level, and the Severing Charm and Fire-Making Spell had reached absolute perfection.
He liked might, and might required violence.
Therefore, he had practiced the offensive spells in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 countless times.