Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

I spotted Quirrell, looking very peculiar in a large purple turban. Dumbledore had got to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there. 'Welcome!' he said. 'Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! 'Thank you!' He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered.

'Is he – a bit mad?' Harry asked uncertainly.

I explained to him nonchalantly "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! meant a pun by the old wizard to represent what four houses despise. "Nitwit:" Ravenclaws think of those not selected for membership in their select group as "nitwits" or dummies. "Blubber:" Gryffindors, sees the other as less physically bold or courageous, for which condition "blubber" is a handy signifier. "Oddment:" Slytherins think any witch or wizard born with insufficient purity, an insufficiency that makes them an "oddment" of less, even no value. "Tweek:" Hufflepuffs believes that "tweek" is something of a stranger to them being the House for magical folk who were not smart, bold, or pure enough for the three Houses."

Half of Gryffindors mouth fell open. While Percy asking 'How would you know all these?'

Oh Shit, I have gone overboard again with my knowledge series. I think a first-year student is supposed to be dumb but blame my IQ being 350 in last birth and of now well let's say try a little more for staying silent.

I got saved by the appearance of a pile of food. Roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and for some strange reason, mint humbugs. All started piling their plates with everything and began to eat. It was all delicious.

'That does look good,' said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry cut up his steak. 'Can't you –?' 'I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years,' said the ghost. 'I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower.'

'I know who you are Sir Nicholas and how were you unfairly executed by muggles.' I added before Ron could stupidly hurt his ghostly sentiments.

Everyone turned to me. "And how would you, a first-year, know a thing like that?" Sir Nicholas demanded. I

"Professor Dumbledore explained in his notes on "The Wizard and the Hopping Pot" that Muggle executions of wizards such as yours Sir Nicholas were rarely successful, given that wizards could magically protect themselves and escape." Clarifying the doubts of kids around I added Sir Nicholas had his wand taken away, however, thus was unable to leave his dungeon cell.

Looking stunned Sir Nicholas, coughed and said, 'So – new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the House Championship this year? Gryffindor has never gone so long without winning. Slytherin has got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable – he's the Slytherin ghost.'

Over at the Slytherin table, a very pale, pearly-white, and slightly transparent ghost sitting. He had wide, staring, black eyes and a gaunt face. He dressed in robes covered in silver bloodstains and carried chains in a final act of penitence for having murdered Helena Ravenclaw.

'How did he get covered in blood?' asked Seamus with great interest. 'I've never asked,' said Nearly Headless Nick delicately.

Well, I can't blabber my knowledge about Helena here as in no book of this world it is mentioned.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before.

The talk turned to their families. 'I'm half and half,' said Seamus. 'My dad's a Muggle. Mam didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him.' The others laughed.

But I wondered how Snape suffered because Eileen Prince's situation didn't fare well as Finnigans.

'What about you, Neville?' said Ron. 'Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch,' said Neville, 'but the family thought I was all Muggle for ages. My great-uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me – he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned – but nothing happened until I was eight. Great-uncle Algie came round for tea and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my great-auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced – all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased. Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here – they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great-uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad.'

Poor boy these old coots kept attempting to kill him to try and force him to do some magic and in return, they give a toad to celebrate when he can finally.

I do hope they start straight away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult –' Hermione trying to get info about lessons from Percy.

You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing –'. He replied.

I was starting to feel sleepy, looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking Snape with his signature greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

'Ouch!' Harry clapped a hand to his head.

'What is it?' asked Percy.

'N-nothing. Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?' he asked Percy.

'Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to – everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape.'

Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The Hall fell silent. 'Ahem – just a few more words now we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. 'First-years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.' Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins. 'I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. 'Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. 'And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.'

A few laughed. 'He's not serious?' Harry muttered to me.

'Must be. But is not it like asking a kid to not touch a fire?' smilingly I replied.

Harry said nothing but eyed me with an oddly speculative look on his face.

'And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!' cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed. Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick as if he was trying to get a fly off the end and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself snake-like into words. 'Everyone pick their favorite tune,' said Dumbledore, 'and off we go!'

And the school bellowed:

'Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, Teach us something please, Whether we be old and bald Or young with scabby knees, Our heads could do with filling With some interesting stuff, For now they're bare and full of air, Dead flies and bits of fluff, So teach us things worth knowing, Bring back what we've forgot, Just do your best, we'll do the rest, And learn until our brains all rot.' Everybody finished the song at different times.

At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand, and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest. 'Ah, music,' he said, wiping his eyes. 'A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!'

We followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase. All of us climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging our feet, wondering how much further they had to go when they came to a sudden halt. A bundle of walking sticks was floating in mid-air ahead of them and as Percy took a step towards them they started throwing themselves at him. 'Peeves,' Percy whispered informing us 'A poltergeist.' He raised his voice, 'Peeves – show yourself.'

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered. 'Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?' There was a pop and a little man with wicked dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks. 'Oooooooh!' he said, with an evil cackle. 'Ickle firsties! What fun!' He swooped suddenly towards us dropping the walking sticks but before it could reach near us I have managed to silently cast an invisible shield reflecting the sticks.

Before he could react the sticks are already penetrating his semi-translucent body. Nobody could understand what happened but it made Peeves running away, rattling coats of armor as he passed. 'You want to watch out for Peeves,' said Percy, as we set off again.

'Here we are.' At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress. 'Password?' she said. 'Caput Draconis,' said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. We found our beds at last: Six four-posters hung with deep-red velvet curtains. Our trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, we pulled on our pajamas and fell into bed.

New places were always a bit difficult for me to adjust to. Our roommates were as per canon all-male Gryffindors of the first year: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnegan, and Dean Thomas. Curtains are down but judging from the snores I'm sure I'm the only one awake.

I came down from the stairs to the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs. In one such armchair, a young girl is sleeping with her bushy hairs scattered and few books on the next day's lesson lying around.

Without disturbing her sleep I put a blanket around and sat on the couch near the fireplace reading some random books from the bookshelves in the hall. Getting into bed caused a good bit of anxiety, while on the couch distracted by reading I don't know when I drifted into sleep.