Chapter 300 — Depressed Harry
As the Sorting Ceremony continued at the staff table, Harry watched in horror as a "war" suddenly erupted around Alexander Smith.
Hermione appeared perfectly calm, but Harry couldn't help recalling Mrs. Weasley—this was the most terrifying calm of all… the calm before the storm.
Meanwhile, the little witch named Luna seemed completely oblivious to Hermione's quiet anger. She simply kept talking to Alexander.
"My sister is also a Ravenclaw!"
"She's Ginny! The Weasleys' baby!"
"Our little sister! Ginny! Ravenclaw!"
Just as Harry was trying to figure out what on earth they were talking about, the shouts of Ron, Percy, Fred, and George jolted him back to reality.
Ginny, face red as a tomato, practically ran to the Ravenclaw table.
Wait—what?!
Something was wrong.
Why was the seat next to Harry empty?
When had he forgotten this?
No.
No, no, no.
Ginny—don't come here!
Harry's heart collapsed in slow motion.
He could only force a polite smile as Ron's little sister sat next to him, pretending not to notice Ginny's… not-so-hidden longing looks.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Alexander smiling at him.
This had to be his fault!
This was absolutely revenge!
Alexander was watching the whole thing like a spectator at a play.
Harry felt miserable.
Ron, still young and clueless, had no idea what Ginny truly wanted—to get closer to Harry. Instead, Ron slapped his hand on the table, nearly pushing Harry off the stool as he proudly praised Ginny for being sorted into Ravenclaw.
He didn't seem to notice Ginny's fists tightening under the table. He just kept talking, praising her over and over, insisting she was worthy of being his sister.
For a moment, Harry seriously wondered if Ron was actually Mr. Weasley's child.
Even Percy behaved differently. When Ron had been sorted into Ravenclaw last year, Percy had immediately rushed over to show his presence.
But now?
Seeing Ginny blush and sit beside Harry, he wisely chose to give her "private space."
Thankfully, before Ginny could explode—or faint—Dumbledore rose from the staff table again.
Ron's hunger instantly won over his affection for his sister.
He finally let Ginny breathe. His eyes lit up green with hunger as he grabbed his knife and fork, staring intensely at the golden plate.
Ginny's twitching forehead vein slowly relaxed as well.
Dumbledore opened his arms with a warm smile.
"I have only two words for you," he announced, his voice echoing through the Hall.
"Eat!"
In a blink, the empty plates filled with food.
A beast-like roar erupted from Harry's left—it was Ron.
His right hand shot forward like an arrow, grabbing a massive steak with inhuman speed.
He didn't bother with a knife, simply gnawing directly into it.
Hot gravy splashed across Michael Corner's face just as he had been trying to sneak a look at Ginny.
Everyone froze.
Michael didn't move either, as if pretending the gravy wasn't there would make it less humiliating.
"Ahh! Harry, I'm alive again!" Ron declared between mouthfuls of mashed potatoes.
Everyone snapped back to reality.
Ginny hid her face in her arms.
Michael clumsily wiped his face while circling Ron and Harry, desperately checking whether Ginny had seen his disgrace.
Only after confirming she hadn't looked up did he relax.
Neville and the others ate quietly to stabilize their nerves.
"Ginny, eat!" Ron said, walking around Harry holding a chicken drumstick, offering it to his mortified sister.
A half-full stomach finally granted Ron some awareness.
"I–I'm not hungry," Ginny whispered faintly.
"Ron, she's just too excited.
Let her eat later," Harry said gently.
Ginny subtly lifted her head and gave Harry a grateful little smile.
Michael completely misunderstood.
Thinking the smile was for him, he flashed what he thought was a charming Lockhart-style grin—showing all eight teeth.
Ginny nearly gagged.
"What's wrong, Ginny?" Harry asked in concern, putting down his half-eaten pie.
"Nothing—well… who's that dark-haired guy?" Ginny frowned. "He smiles just like Lockhart—that idiot Mum keeps going on about."
"Him? That's Michael Corner.
He and Ron were my roommates last year."
"I guess he found something about you interesting?" Harry guessed.
Michael certainly had the personality for it—eccentric, impulsive, always trying to attract attention.
Like when Roger was explaining Quidditch history and Michael interrupted with nonsense just to stand out.
Ginny's cheeks flushed again—Harry was looking directly at her as he spoke.
She wondered if she was being too bold.
She hadn't yet grown used to talking to Harry so directly.
Time dragged on painfully, the atmosphere thick with awkwardness.
After what felt like an entire century, the main dishes disappeared.
Ron's satisfied burp triggered the sudden appearance of desserts.
"Chocolate cake! My favorite!"
"Ginny, want some?" Ron asked.
She sipped her pumpkin juice, head still low.
Hearing Ron's question, she nearly choked.
"Ahem—no thanks. It's summer. I'll just… have some ice cream."
"Okay, Ginny—slow down," Ron replied with a tone surprisingly gentle for him.
"Ron, what do you think the new Defense Against the Dark Arts class will be like?"
"From the textbook he made us buy, it looks more like a Muggle Studies course than DADA."
"Do you think we'll be pulled into that class early in second year… at the expense of real DADA?" Harry asked, trying to change the subject.
Ron didn't bite.
Stuffing pudding into his mouth, he muttered:
"Well, that's obvious. It's him."
"Even if I worry that Hagrid's scared of magical creatures, I've never doubted his DADA teaching more than I doubt this guy."
"You're absolutely right!"
"People who think Professor Riddle got the job through favoritism are just jealous!"
"Wait—Ron! Did I hear you correctly?! You know Professor Riddle's story?!"
Lisa Dupin, sitting diagonally opposite, stared wide-eyed.
Harry didn't know whether to be relieved or horrified.
Yes, Ron's creepy expression had vanished.
But Lisa's question had just caused every girl around them to turn their heads in curiosity.
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