MTLNOVEL Chapter 171: Unforgettable Welcome
The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall rippled with brooding grey clouds, faint rain pattering high above—but not a single drop touched the gleaming stone floors below. Hundreds of floating candles hovered mid-air, casting warm golden light across the four long House tables, where students buzzed with chatter and laughter, excited to be back.
At the Gryffindor table, Cael sat between Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, with Hermione seated across from him, nose buried in a book even amid the noisy hall.
As they talked, Cael leaned forward with a knowing smirk.
"Tell me," he began, voice laced with mockery, "how exactly did you lot forget Ron and Harry? You practically left them stranded. And now they're soaring over the countryside in your father's enchanted car. Lovely ride, I imagine."
Fred's eyes lit up immediately. "Brilliant!" He elbowed George. "Hey, maybe we should do that next year too."
George snorted, grinning. "Oh, yes. Heroes of Gryffindor, arriving in flying style. The first-years will faint."
Cael rolled his eyes, arms crossed. "Right. And when the Ministry finds out, your dad gets crucified because he happened to let his sons joyride in a bewitched Muggle car. You do realize those Pure-blood families will twist this to hammer him even harder?"
The twins exchanged a glance. Their grins faltered as reality sank in—however briefly.
But Fred, ever the optimist, waved a hand dismissively. "Dad'll be fine. He's done loads worse. Gotten away with it too. Where d'you think we inherited our brilliance?" He tapped the side of his head proudly, smirking wide.
Cael chuckled under his breath. Unfortunately, Fred wasn't wrong. Arthur Weasley was one of Dumbledore's most loyal allies—Cael doubted even Ministry vultures could take him down easily, not with Dumbledore shielding his people.
Before he could reply, the Great Hall doors creaked open and Professor McGonagall swept in with this year's nervous-looking first-years trailing behind her. Her sharp gaze scanned the Hall like a hawk, and silence fell in an instant.
The Sorting Hat, ancient and patched, sat atop its stool. As if sensing the attention, it flexed and began its song, verses booming across the vast Hall, forecasting House unity, bravery, and the usual ominous hints of danger.
Once the song ended, McGonagall stepped forward, parchment in hand, calling the first-years one by one.
Cael's eyes drifted toward the staff table. There sat Dumbledore, serene and composed, his long silver beard gleaming under candlelight. His half-moon spectacles twinkled with quiet amusement.
And beside him, as blindingly obnoxious as Cael remembered, sat Gilderoy Lockhart. His turquoise robes shimmered like polished glass, golden hair styled to perfection, and his impossibly white grin fixed permanently in place.
Merlin help us, Cael thought, resisting the urge to groan aloud.
McGonagall's voice rang out. "Weasley, Ginevra."
Ginny stiffened. She looked like she wanted to melt into the floor as every head turned her way. Blushing furiously, she tucked a strand of flaming red hair behind her ear and shuffled forward.
The Sorting Hat barely touched her head before it roared, "GRYFFINDOR!"
Cheers erupted. The Weasley twins whooped loudest, clapping and banging the table. Percy applauded with dignified, Prefect-like restraint.
Ginny hurried back to the Gryffindor table, face flushed but glowing with pride. Cael grinned as she sat down.
"Welcome to Gryffindor, Ginny," Cael said teasingly. "Now, the question is—are you going to be another Percy the Pompous? Or join us in turning this place upside down?"
Ginny's cheeks darkened red , but there was curiosity—and mischief—sparkling behind her nerves.
"Absolutely not like Percy," Fred declared, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "One of those is plenty for Gryffindor."
George laughed and nodded enthusiastically.
"Welcome to Gryffindor, Ginny," Hermione added kindly, smiling across the table.
The Sorting continued.
"Lovegood, Luna."
Luna drifted forward, feather-light on her feet, clutching an upside-down Quibbler magazine to her chest. Whispered remarks followed her, odd and speculative, but Luna looked entirely serene—as though floating through a different world.
The Sorting Hat slid onto her head, paused only a moment, then announced, "RAVENCLAW!"
Polite applause filled the Hall as Luna joined the Ravenclaw table, settling herself among wide-eyed first-years, her dreamy expression unshaken.
"I knew she'd be Ravenclaw," Hermione whispered, closing her book with satisfaction. "Strange lot, Ravenclaws. Most of the weird ones end up there."
Cael snorted softly, eyes flicking back to the staff table.
There was Dumbledore, expression unreadable yet kind. Beside him, McGonagall maintained her usual stern vigilance. And then, glowing like a cursed chandelier, Lockhart sat preening in his chair.
Cael leaned toward Hermione. "Brace yourself. Your favorite author's about to bask in his own reflection."
Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but Dumbledore rose, silencing the Hall.
"Welcome," the Headmaster greeted, arms outstretched, "to another year at Hogwarts. I trust you've all arrived—most of you, at least—safely."
A ripple of laughter swept through the Hall.
"I remind you the Forbidden Forest remains strictly off-limits… and enchanted vehicles are not acceptable forms of transport."
More chuckles followed. The Gryffindor table exchanged knowing looks; Fred and George looked smug, while Ginny ducked her head, cheeks red as tomatoe .
"And finally," Dumbledore added, his eyes twinkling, "we welcome our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Renowned author, adventurer, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award—Professor Gilderoy Lockhart."
Cael nudged Fred, whispering, "Shall we give our dear Professor an unforgettable Gryffindor welcome?"
George grinned, catching on instantly. "Perfect idea."
Lee Jordan leaned in, mischief crackling in his eyes. "Every word he says—we clap. Loudly."
All four shared the look of co-conspirators about to commit harmless chaos.
As the Hall clapped, Lockhart rose dramatically, waving both hands as if accepting an award.
"Thank you, thank you—yes, your enthusiasm humbles me!"
George shot to his feet. "You're my idol, Professor!" he hollered, hands cupped around his mouth.
The entire Hall turned to look. Even Lockhart's grin brightened several watts.
McGonagall's eyes narrowed dangerously.
Lockhart, oblivious, clutched his heart. "When dear Professor Dumbledore reached out, practically begging me to teach, how could I refuse? My heart aches for young witches and wizards unprepared for dark forces lurking beyond—"
Fred stood, hands over his heart. "I love you, Professor! Like… like my wet socks in winter!"
Laughter exploded from the tables, even several teachers hiding their smiles behind napkins. Lockhart only puffed his chest grandly.
"Ah, young devotion. After dinner, come to my office—I'll sign all my books for you."
The girls at the nearby tables swooned dramatically.
"And of course," Lockhart added, strutting toward the Gryffindor table, "I shall personally mentor none other than Harry Potter himself!"
He faltered, realizing Potter's seat was conspicuously empty.
Seizing the moment, George staggered from his chair, clutching his chest, and pretended to faint dead away. Fred caught him expertly.
"Oh no," Cael exclaimed loudly, snatching a goblet of pumpkin juice. "Meeting his idol overwhelmed him!"
He splashed the juice theatrically—straight onto Lockhart's pristine robes.
Gasps and laughter echoed as Lockhart froze, dripping in pumpkin juice, his fake smile twitching. Older students stifled snickers, some collapsing onto the table.
George sat up, perfectly fine. "I'm alright now," he declared proudly, brushing himself off.
Lockhart, soaked and seething, forced a wide, practiced smile.
Fred sprang up, hand extended. "The legendary hands that wrote those masterpieces—I'm honored!"
Lockhart, too polite to refuse, shook Fred's hand.
Fred let out an exaggerated gasp. "Oh Merlin! I shook his hand—I—" He swooned dramatically.
Cael caught him mid-fall, and Lee Jordan tossed another goblet of pumpkin juice toward them.
But Cael ducked—and the juice splashed directly onto Percy.
The Gryffindor Prefect's expression darkened like a storm cloud as laughter erupted across the Hall.
"Sorry, Percy," Lee called cheerfully, "bit worried for Fred, you know!"
Professors struggled to maintain composure; even McGonagall's lips twitched. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his spectacles.
"Enough enthusiasm for tonight," Dumbledore chuckled, clapping his hands. "Let us enjoy our feast."
In an instant, the tables filled with steaming platters and glittering goblets. Students eagerly tucked in.
Across the table, Hermione fixed Cael with a glare, though a smile threatened her lips. "You really are a Devil ," she declared.
Cael smirked. "Why, thank you for the compliment, Miss Granger."
They dug into the feast, the Hall alive with chatter and laughter. But Cael's sharp eyes caught movement at the staff table—Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape rising quietly, slipping out the doors.
Harry and Ron must've arrived, he thought. Their adventure—and their scolding—was about to begin.