The Great Hall buzzed with excitement as golden plates filled with an endless variety of food. The scent of roast beef, chicken, lamb chops, and buttered potatoes filled the air, blending with the laughter and chatter of students. Candles floated above them, casting flickering light across the four long tables.
Harry sat among the Slytherins, smirking as he observed his new housemates. Draco Malfoy sat beside him, already deep in conversation about Quidditch, while Pansy Parkinson, practically glued to Draco's side, kept sneaking glances at him. But it was the blonde girl across from him who held his attention.
Daphne Greengrass. Cool, composed, and refined, she exuded an aura of quiet confidence. Yet beneath that icy exterior, there was a playful glint in her eyes as she turned to Harry.
"You should've been in Gryffindor," she mused, sipping her pumpkin juice.
Pansy scoffed. "Isn't it rude to start a conversation without introducing yourself?"
Daphne arched a brow before offering a polite smile. "Daphne Greengrass."
She then turned her gaze back to Harry. "And you're Harry Potter." Her eyes flicked toward Hermione, who sat beside him, arms crossed, clearly unimpressed. "And you are?"
Hermione let out a small snort, not in the mood for pleasantries.
Harry chuckled. "Forgive her attitude. This is Hermione Granger. And yes, I'm Harry Potter." He took Daphne's hand and, without breaking eye contact, brushed a soft kiss over her knuckles.
Daphne raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Charming," she murmured.
Hermione narrowed her eyes. Pansy rolled hers. Draco looked amused.
Daphne leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice. "Actually, I knew you'd be in Slytherin. There was a bet going around."
Harry's interest piqued. "Oh? And?"
"I bet on Slytherin. And I won."
"How much?"
"100 galleons."
Harry smirked. "Then I get 50."
Daphne scoffed. "No way."
Harry leaned in, his voice smooth. "You used my name to win, didn't you? Shouldn't I get some compensation? That's how betting works."
Daphne hesitated, considering his words. Finally, she sighed. "Fine. I'll give you 25 galleons when I have them."
"Oh, I don't take money," Harry said mischievously.
Daphne blinked. "Then what do you want?"
Harry tilted his head, pretending to think. "Something of equal value…" his eyes on her.
Before he could finish, Hermione and Pansy both kicked him under the table.
He winced but grinned, enjoying their reactions. Daphne's cheeks had turned slightly pink, but she kept her cool.
Just as the moment passed, Harry felt something—a presence. A malicious gaze.
His expression didn't change as he subtly turned his head, scanning the Great Hall. And then he saw him.
Professor Quirrell.
The man sat at the staff table, occasionally glancing in Harry's direction. His hands trembled slightly, and the turban wrapped around his head looked even more ridiculous up close.
Voldemort.
Harry knew he was there. He could feel it. The dark presence lingered beneath the man's skin, watching him, waiting.
But right now, there was nothing to do about it. So Harry simply smirked and turned away, acting as if he had noticed nothing at all.
The Bloody Baron's Arrival
As the feast continued, students laughed and ate. Then, without warning, ghostly figures began to glide through the walls.
One by one, Hogwarts' ghosts made their appearance, their translucent forms floating above the tables.
The Bloody Baron emerged near the Slytherin table. His presence sent a chill through the first-years. Clad in tattered robes, his ghastly pale form was stained with what looked like silver blood. His hollow eyes scanned them with quiet authority.
"Slytherins," he said in a voice like a whispering wind. "May you bring honor to our house and claim the House Cup for the seventh year in a row."
Hermione, unable to resist, spoke up. "Why are you called the Bloody Baron?"
Draco scoffed. "Idiot. Just look at him."
Hermione frowned, but the ghost's expression darkened.
"I have no desire to speak of it," he said coldly.
Harry, sensing the shift in the air, smoothly intervened. "Apologies, Baron. She was just curious."
The ghost simply nodded before drifting away.
End of the Feast
Dumbledore stood, raising his arms. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Before we begin, a few words:
Nitwit. Blubber. Oddment. Tweak."
Silence.
Then applause filled the hall.
As the school song was sung—each student choosing their own tune—Harry chuckled at the chaos.
Eventually, the Slytherin prefects led their house toward the dungeons.
Harry said goodbye to Daphne, Pansy, and Hermione before following Draco and Theodore into the boys' dormitories. Each first-year was given their own private room.
Once inside, Harry shut the door.
The First Night in Hogwarts
With a flick of his fingers, he reached into his ring's pocket universe.
A shape tumbled onto the bed.
Petunia.
She gasped, her body trembling as she realized where she was. She had spent days inside his personal world, trapped in a place where time and space meant nothing.
Now, she was here. Alone with him. In his room.
She looked up, her eyes wide with both fear and anticipation.
Harry smirked. "Missed me?"
She swallowed hard.
The night was just beginning.
To Be Continued…