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story as wide as he could, but there was always a chance it wouldn't reach too many Gryffindor ears.
He reached across Ron for a couple of chicken legs and a handful chips, but before he could take them they vanished, to be replaced with puddings.
“You missed the Sorting, anyway," said Hermione, as Ron dived a large chocolate gateau.
“Hat say anything interesting." asked Harry, taking a piece of treacle tart.
“More of the same, really... advising us all to unite in the face enemies, you know." “Dumbledore mentioned Voldemort at all." Not yet, but he always saves his proper speech for after the the feast doesn't he. It can't be long now." “Snape said Hagrid was late for the feast —" “You've seen Snape. How come." said Ron between frenzied mouthfuls of gateau.
"Bumped into him," said Harry evasively.
"Hagrid was only a few minutes late," said Hermione. "Look, he's waving at you, Harry." Harry looked up at the staff table and grinned at Hagrid, who was indeed waving at him.
Hagrid had never quite managed to comport himself with the dignity of Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, the top of whose head came up to somewhere between Hagrid's elbow and shoulder as they were sitting side by side, and who was looking disapprovingly at this enthusiastic greeting.
Harry was surprised to see the Divination teacher, Professor Trelawney, sitting on Hagrid's other side; she rarely left her tower room, and he had never seen her at the start-of-term feast before. She looked as odd as ever, glittering with beads and trailing shawls, her eyes magnified to enormous size by her spectacles. Having always considered her a bit of a fraud, Harry had been shocked to discover at the end of the previous term that it had been she who had made the prediction that caused Lord Voldemort to kill Harry's parents and attack Harry himself. The knowledge made him even less eager to find himself in her company, thankfully, this year he would be dropping Divination. Her great beaconlike eyes swiveled in his direction; he hastily looked away toward the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy was miming the shatterering of a nose to raucous laughter and applause. Harry dropped his gaze to his treacle tart, his insides burning again. What he would give to fight Malfoy one-on-one...
"So what did Professor Slughorn want." Hermione asked.
"To know what really happened at the Ministry." said Harry.
"Him and everyone else here," sniffed Hermione. "People were interrogating us about it on the train, weren't they, Ron."
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