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Hogwarts Feast
There’s something about those two words—Hogwarts Feast—that makes you hungry before you’ve even seen a single dish. Maybe it’s the thought of gold goblets and treacle tart. Maybe it’s the idea of dining in a hall so big the sky itself pops in for a visit.
For Harry Potter, sitting there in his brand-new robes, it was all of that and more. The Great Hall opened up before him like the pages of a storybook, the enchanted ceiling overhead painted with a dusky evening sky. House banners—lion, snake, eagle, and badger—hung proudly above long wooden tables, swaying slightly as if they were alive.
When the Sorting Hat Finished…
…everything changed. One moment, the Sorting was over, and the next—whoosh!—the room was glowing. Hundreds of candles floated into place, casting a warm golden light that made the silver plates shine. Then the smell hit. Roast chicken. Buttered potatoes. Beef so tender it looked like it would melt at the touch of a fork.
Harry hardly realised his plate was piling high until he was already eating. Beside him, Ron tore into a chicken leg like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. Hermione, meanwhile, was trying to correct his Hogwarts history between bites of carrots. Neville, poor thing, knocked over a bowl of peas, which Seamus tried (and failed) to catch before they rolled halfway down the table.
Food, Friendship… and Rivalry
Across the hall, the Slytherins were keeping their voices low, their laughter sharper than the silver knives on the table. Malfoy caught Harry’s eye and smirked in that I’ll-see-you-later sort of way. Harry didn’t mean to, but he smirked back.
It was funny—he’d never thought about houses as rivals before tonight. But the way everyone leaned in closer, laughed louder, and glanced at the other tables? Yeah, the Hogwarts Feast wasn’t just a dinner. It was the opening move.
Dessert Was a Dangerous Thing
Just when Harry was sure he couldn’t eat another bite, the dinner vanished. And in its place? Dessert heaven. Treacle tart (which Harry decided on the spot was his favourite), sticky toffee pudding, pumpkin pie, jam doughnuts, and more than he could name. The air smelled like sugar and cinnamon.
But what caught his attention more than any of that was a glint at the far end of the hall—the House Cup. Tall, elegant, and gleaming as though the candles existed just to shine on it. He didn’t know the rules yet. He didn’t have to. One day, Gryffindor’s name would be on it.
Magic in the Corners
By now, the enchanted ceiling had turned to a star-splattered night. The floating candles swayed gently, like they were keeping time with the hum of voices. Harry caught sight of a portrait whispering to another in the shadows.
And it struck him—the Hogwarts Feast wasn’t really about the food. It was about this. The belonging. The magic that filled every inch of the place.
Threads Tied
By the time the last treacle tart was gone, Harry knew more about the people around him than he’d learned all day. Ron hated corned beef sandwiches. Hermione could recite spells she hadn’t even been taught yet. Neville’s gran was both proud and terrifying.
They weren’t just classmates. They were his people now. And though he didn’t quite know it yet, that meant he’d fight for them.
A Quiet Vow
When Dumbledore stood to speak, Harry felt it—like an invisible string had tied itself around his heart and anchored him here. He didn’t say it aloud, but in his mind, he promised: Gryffindor would win that House Cup. They’d stand together. And no matter what was coming, he’d never face it alone.
The feast ended. The magic didn’t.
