Professor Cat-Lady was beautiful, and one should be curious about her past.
But the moment the food appeared, Basil threw all such thoughts out the window.
For the past month, Basil had been living on eggs, mushrooms, and pancakes. Having devoured his smoked meat stash in a few days, his eyes turned green with envy at the sight of real meat.
The corned beef sandwiches Mrs. Weasley made on the train were a delicacy he was still savoring in his memory.
Let alone the feast before him: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, steak, gravy...
He forgot all about being reserved. Like Harry opposite him, he started chewing enthusiastically. Like Ron, he grabbed food with both hands. Like Goyle at the Slytherin table, his mouth was glistening with grease.
Hermione, acting like a benevolent mother, picked out some vegetables—pea shoots and carrots—and placed them on Basil's plate.
She softly urged him to eat them.
However, the other new students were much the same as Basil.
They were growing kids. It had been a long time since 11 AM, and there was no afternoon tea.
Then they had ridden boats in the cold wind, climbed tunnels and stone steps, and stood waiting for the Sorting.
They were all starving enough to eat a hippogriff.
So, the ghost quickly realized that no one wanted to hear about Professor McGonagall's secret past right now.
Even sadder for him was that, as a ghost, he couldn't eat.
Having not eaten for 400 years, he floated beside Basil—who had the ugliest table manners but made the food look the most delicious—swallowing non-existent saliva.
"That looks really good. The lamb chops look so tender! And those pork chops..."
Basil ignored him. He didn't even have the energy to refuse Hermione's feeding.
He just swallowed the vegetables occupying his plate along with the meat and gravy.
Only Harry, who had developed a bird-like appetite at the Dursleys' and wasn't used to eating so much, acknowledged the ghost.
The ghost started chatting with Harry.
He introduced himself: Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower.
In Ron's interruption, his nickname was revealed: Nearly Headless Nick.
Eggded on by Seamus, he showed the surrounding first-years his severed neck, held on by only a flap of skin.
Now, aside from Ron, almost no one wanted to eat meat anymore.
No, wait—there was Basil. Fully in "Meal Mode," he ignored everything around him.
Just like the little badgers at the neighboring Hufflepuff table, who also didn't notice the gruesome display.
By the time Basil let out a burp that harmonized with the burps of the Hufflepuffs, the remaining food vanished from the plates. The dishes were sparkling clean again.
Dessert time.
Puddings, ice cream in every flavor, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs, jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, jelly...
They all appeared on the plates.
The other first-years, like Neville and Seamus, started talking about their families while eating dessert.
Neville took center stage, vividly recounting how he survived his great-uncle's repeated attempts to force magic out of him until he finally bounced when dropped out a window.
Basil listened with relish.
Suddenly, he noticed Ron looking at him with admiration from across the table. "You eat more than I do! Your family really must be Hufflepuffs for generations. You were named correctly!" (Badger = big eater).
Before Basil could emphasize the pain of not touching meat for a month (eggs don't count)...
Three red-headed boys walked over. Two were identical twins.
The twins introduced themselves first.
"Hello, I'm Fred."
"I'm George."
Basil's eyes lit up. [Twin Echoes]!
But then they dimmed slightly.
Merlin's Beard! Why aren't they a pair of sisters?!
Also, why were they short and stocky?
They didn't match the beanpole builds of Ron and Percy at all.
"You must be Ron's brothers. I'm his friend."
"Rounding up, that makes me your friend too."
"So let's skip the formalities."
The twins nodded (Basil: New Friends GET!) and draped their arms around Ron from both sides.
"Good one, our little brother!"
"How did you introduce us to the Percy-Bane, you little rascal?"
The other tall redhead—Percy—pulled a long face. "You two, why are you giving people nicknames without permission?"
Ignoring the struggling Ron, Percy looked at Basil. "Stay away from them. Students like us—"
He adjusted the shiny silver 'P' badge on his chest. "—should set an example for the other students!"
"Hey!" The twins shouted in unison.
"Basil isn't the good boy you think he is!"
"He's the one who killed Fenrir the Werewolf!"
"Yeah, George, and he's great at making money!"
"Even Percy—"
"Even Percy coughed up the cash obediently!"
Percy trembled with rage. "Shut up! Your vision is so limited you can only see money!"
"Basil is like me. He strives for something greater than money."
He lowered his voice dramatically. "Power!"
"I'm only telling you this because we're brothers."
The twins made a face and released Ron, who was gasping for air.
Percy smiled at Basil and followed the twins back to his seat.
Ron, eating ice cream, looked depressed. "Am I invisible or something? I'm their brother!"
Harry, sleepy and full, comforted Ron by grabbing his right hand.
Then—"Ouch!"
He clapped a hand to his forehead.
Ron got a bit angry. "Am I a hedgehog? You touch me and—"
A second later, his attitude shifted to concern. "Harry, are you okay?"
Hermione noticed where Harry was hurting. "Is it the scar? Is it a side effect of that curse? I remember the school has a nurse."
Under the concern and with Basil's foreshadowing on the train, Ron said the name again.
"Voldemort?"
At the High Table, Quirrell, wrapped in a ridiculous turban and constantly trying to pester Snape, adjusted his scarf and glanced over.
"Ouch!"
With that one glance, the pain Harry felt, which had just subsided, flared up again for a second.
"What's wrong?" Basil asked, genuinely concerned for once. He didn't remember Harry hurting twice in this scene.
"It's Quirrell!" Harry said with certainty. "I thought it was Snape earlier because he looked at me with hatred and resentment."
"But I didn't notice the pain started only after Quirrell's turban blocked Snape's line of sight."
"The second time it hurt, Snape wasn't looking at me. Only Quirrell looked at me."
"The plot has changed!" Basil thought deeply.
He checked his Gems: 13552.571 (+0.001/s).
"Gems from time passing... Malfoy falling in the water was about 1400... Talking to Professor Cat-Lady was about 2000..."
"Subtract those—"
"No increase! This doesn't count as my doing?"
"Is there no justice?! Is there no law?!"
Harry couldn't hear Basil's internal screaming.
He mistook Basil's suddenly sour expression for concern.
"It shouldn't be a big problem. Maybe it's a resonance between Dark Magic?"
"Hagrid said Quirrell used to be brilliant. He had a fine mind and was brave. He went traveling to get first-hand experience."
"A year later, he came back like this. Apparently, he met vampires in the Black Forest and had a nasty run-in with a hag."
"Now he's scared of everything—scared of the students, scared of his own subject."
Basil, having composed himself, hinted, "Did you meet Quirrell before? Did your scar hurt then?"
"No pain?" Harry frowned. "Did I guess wrong?"
"Hmph!" Ron took a bite of kidney pie. "You're not wrong!"
(Basil's face darkened: Wrong my ass!)
"Rumor has it the Defense Against the Dark Arts position is cursed by You-Know-Who! That's why the professor changes every year."
"Harry, when you met Quirrell before, school hadn't started yet."
Harry nodded.
Ron: "There's your answer! No reaction before because he wasn't the professor of this subject yet."
"Now there's a reaction because both your scar and the curse on this job were left by You-Know-Who!"
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