Hogwarts, a Scholar Becomes a God

In the Great Hall of Hogwarts, the lights were bright and the voices were buzzing.

Sitting in the far corner of the rostrum was the tall half-giant Hagrid. Judging from his appearance, he should be greeting Harry Potter.

The diminutive Professor Flitwick was sitting next to Hagrid. The two were one big and one small, one tall and one short. The strong contrast made it easy to laugh.

And a professor with a ridiculous scarf around his head was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, an aquiline nose, and sallow skin. These two should be Voldemort's horses Quirrell and Snape.

In the center of the podium, on a large golden chair, sat Albus Dumbledore.

Clark recognized the headmaster of Hogwarts at a glance, because this professor was so similar to the berserker Gandalf of Middle-earth. They both had shiny silver hair and a long hooked nose.

But at this moment, Dumbledore was turning his two thumbs alternately, as if he didn't know anything about what happened just now. Of course, Clark didn't believe this.

Now there are only three people left waiting for distribution.

Lisa Dupin became a freshman in Ravenclaw. Then it was Ron's turn. He was blue now, but in the blink of an eye the hat shouted, "Gryffindor!"

It's just that Clark's influence hasn't passed, he can only rush to the seat next to Harry and sit down like a little transparent.

"Very well, Ron, very well!" said Ron's brother Percy Weasley, over Harry, in a dramatic tone.

At this time, the last remaining Blaise Zabini was assigned to Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up the parchment, picked up the sorting hat and left. The whole sorting ceremony came to an end.

At this time, Albus Dumbledore seemed to have come to his senses. He stood up, looked at the students with a smile on his face, and stretched out his arms to them. It seemed that there was nothing more exciting than seeing the students gathered together. Happier now.

A warm and broad force spread out, filling the entire auditorium like a sea bred with life, and soaking into the little wizard's body.

And like the bright sun, it shines in all directions, dispelling the darkness in the hearts of little wizards.

Clark had to lower his eyes and lower his head, avoiding Dumbledore's sight.

"This is really pure 'love'!" Clark was completely relieved, his love was boundless, and he knew that Dumbledore, who possessed such courage, was no threat to him for the time being.

When he came back to his senses again, he found that all kinds of food had appeared on the table out of thin air, and Dumbledore had already sat back in his seat, raising his wine glass to greet him.

Medium-rare roast beef, golden-skinned roasted chicken, sizzling roasted pork chops, a whole lamb chop, black pepper-flavored German sausage, French chips topped with meat sauce, Yorkshire pudding, tender greens pea shoots, fried carrots, pasta with tomato sauce...

The long table was filled to the brim with, and for some odd reason, peppermint hard candies.

Perhaps the journey on the train was too long, Clark saw Harry took a little of everything, and the plates in front of him piled up like a hill.

Ron, on the other hand, was holding two big chicken legs, bowing left and right, eating glibly, as if Clark's aunt had treated him badly.

It's a good thing Hermione didn't learn from the two of them, but maybe because her parents were both dentists, she didn't appreciate all the sweets.

As for Clark, after taking some roast beef and putting it on his dinner plate, he poured himself another full glass of pumpkin juice, held it up high, and yelled:

"Greetings, Hogwarts!"

When the young wizards around heard this, they cheered, grabbed the cup with oily palms, and lifted it up together.

"Greetings, Hogwarts!"

"Greetings, Gryffindor!"

"Respectfully,

Gryffindor! "

The atmosphere of the entire auditorium reached its peak amidst the cheers.

In the gourmet desert of the UK, the food at Hogwarts is pretty good. At least for Clark, he can talk about it.

Compared to those brats who were eating and drinking, Clark still kept his body upright and didn't make a sound even when he was eating.

That graceful posture distinguished him from other little wizards and attracted the attention of many little witches.

"Oh, boy, your actions are really standard. I think you must come from an ancient family." A ghost in a ruff said watching Clark eat.

"Thank you, I'm from the Prewett family, what's your name?" Clark put down his knife and fork and said.

"I know, Prewetts, I know, I should know your great-great-great-grandfather," the ghost recalled, "you may call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, Gryffindor Tower resident ghost."

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My two older brothers told me about you - you're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I think I'd prefer you to call me Nicholas de Mimsy-Sir Popington--" The Ghost looked awkward, but the light-tawny Seamus Finnigan put in:

"Nearly headless? How could you be almost headless?"

...

Clark was really not interested in bloody things like beheading, so he voluntarily withdrew from the conversation and lowered his head to deal with the steak in front of him.

After he chewed and cleaned the plate, the leftover food disappeared in one go, and the plate became as clean as ever.

After a while, the dessert came. There were all kinds of ice cream, apple cake, syrup fruit pie, chocolate sponge cake, fried jam donuts, marmalade pudding, strawberry, jelly, rice pudding...

Clark frowned as he looked at the sweets that needed to be eaten with insulin. In his previous life, he really liked eating sweets, drinking beverages, and had extremely high body fat. It was not easy to have a well-proportioned body in this life, and he didn't want to repeat the same mistakes again.

At this time, everyone had almost eaten, and the topic on the table turned to the families of the little wizards.

"I'm half and half," Seamus said. "Daddy's a Muggle, and Mommy didn't tell Daddy she was a wizard until after they were married, which scares him a lot."

Everyone laughed.

"What about you, Neville?" Ron asked.

"Oh, I was brought up by my grandmother, she was a wizard." Neville began to talk about his relatives and elders, but he didn't seem to want to talk about his parents.

Clark couldn't get in the way of his parents' family, so he had to chat about their homework with Hermione, who also didn't eat sweets, which made Hermione very happy, and only hoped that this dinner could last longer.