The new students were amazed by Professor Dumbledore's display of magic, but most were too hungry to care how he had done it. The sight of golden platters filled with steaming food quickly stole everyone's attention.
Albert, however, knew the secret. The food wasn't conjured—it was transported from the kitchens below the Great Hall through ancient Hufflepuff magic. Hufflepuff's cup, which later became one of Voldemort's Horcruxes, had originally been used to help the house-elves send meals directly to the tables above.
Albert tried to test the Prefect beside him with this bit of trivia, but the boy's mouth was too full to respond.
The feast was hearty—if not refined—and more than enough to satisfy everyone. Albert helped himself to steak, cutting it slowly. He wasn't that hungry, having eaten plenty on the train. Across from him, Lee Jordan gnawed on a chicken leg in each hand, looking completely unbothered.
Midway through the meal, ghosts drifted out from the walls, gliding between tables and startling several first-years. The Gryffindor ghost, a regal-looking man in old-fashioned attire, floated toward them.
"Mr. Ghost," Albert said after swallowing his bite of beef. "Good evening."
"I'd prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington," the ghost corrected with a gracious smile.
Albert repeated the long name without hesitation, earning a pleased look. "Sir Nicholas, may I ask—can you appear in photographs?"
"What? Photographs?" Sir Nicholas blinked, clearly confused but amused. "If you wish to, ah, take one, you may find me later, dear boy."
"Thank you. I'll do that," Albert said, smiling.
"Do you have another question?"
"Yes. What exactly are ghosts? Are they… souls after death?"
Sir Nicholas's smile faded slightly. "Wizards who fear death sometimes leave a trace of themselves in the world of the living. They wander the places they once knew—but very few choose that path."
"So, not quite a memory," Albert murmured. "A soul, then…" He thought of Voldemort, who had literally torn his soul apart.
When he looked up, everyone nearby was staring.
"What?" he asked, puzzled.
"Nothing," George said quickly.
Fred mumbled through a mouthful of food, "Still think you should've been in Ravenclaw."
"Swallow before you speak," Albert shot back.
"Why are you so curious about ghosts?" another first-year asked.
"In the Muggle world, there's no such thing," Albert replied simply. "Since I can learn about them here, I might as well take the chance. Oh, and don't walk through them—it's freezing."
He'd discreetly poked Sir Nicholas moments earlier, and his finger still felt icy. He imagined that walking through one in winter would be downright miserable.
"There really aren't ghosts in the Muggle world?" asked a girl a few seats away. Her name was Shanna Wilson.
"Not real ones," Albert said.
"Same for me," Shanna said with a laugh. "When I got my letter, my parents thought it was a prank. They nearly kicked Professor McGonagall out when she showed up."
"My mum almost called the police," Albert admitted. "They wanted me to attend Eton College instead."
"That Eton?" Shanna gasped.
"What's Eton?" Lee Jordan asked, puzzled.
"One of the top schools in Britain," Shanna explained.
"Hogwarts is the best," George said proudly.
"Of course, because it's the only wizarding school here," Shanna replied dryly. "Muggles have thousands, and Eton's among the top three. That says it all."
"Sounds fancy," George muttered, clearly unimpressed.
Albert smiled and turned the topic away. "What about the rest of you?"
"I'm half-and-half," said Angelina Johnson. "Mum's a witch, Dad's a Muggle. They were honest with each other early on, so they weren't shocked when my letter came."
"I'm from a wizarding family," added Alicia Spinnet. "My parents were thrilled and bought me an owl the same day."
When everyone had eaten their fill, the plates cleared themselves and were replaced by desserts. Albert took a pudding while listening to more stories from the other first-years.
After dessert, the plates vanished again as if polished clean. Dumbledore rose once more, smiling benevolently.
"I'm delighted to announce a new member of our staff," he said. "Professor Bard Blode will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts."
Scattered applause followed as an elderly wizard stood and nodded stiffly.
"There are a few more notices," Dumbledore continued. "First-years should note that the forest on the grounds is strictly forbidden. Mr. Filch has also asked me to remind you not to cast spells in the corridors between classes. Finally, Quidditch tryouts will be held in the second week of term—those interested should contact Madam Hooch."
"Why's the forest forbidden?" Lee whispered.
"Probably because it's dangerous," Albert said, glancing at the twins, who looked far too interested.
"If you two so much as think about going in there," Percy Weasley warned darkly, "I'll write to Mum."
"We won't," the twins said in unison—too quickly to be convincing.