The Forgotten Olympian |BOOK 1| PJO X HP | Alexandra Marine

Chapter 122 - Alex - Justice for Good Food!

Okay, the food was actually pretty okay. Okay, it was pretty bad.

"It's bland!" Percy complained. "Nothing blue, nothing spicy. Why is everything sweet?"

"Pumpkin juice!" Jason groaned. "Pumpkin- juice. Are you kidding me?"

"At least it's orange," I said, trying to be positive. And then my eyes went wide in shock. "Is that plain boiled potatoes?"

"It's got salt," Ron said.

"Salt, yeah, tasty," Jason said sarcastically, nodding.

"Is that blue cheese?" Ron asked, completely ignoring us.

"I'd rather have pineapples on pizza," Percy said, falling to the table in defeat.

"They better have some good dessert to set off all this complete nonsense," I whispered, not touching the plain chicken in front of me. Jason and Percy nodded.

Jason touched the glass of pumpkin juice to his lips hesitantly and put it back in it's place, frowning. "Not a fan. Not a fan. It's a vegetable, for gods' sake."

"What were you saying before the Sorting?" Hermione asked Nick, rolling her eyes at us. "About the Hat giving warnings?"

"Oh, yes," said Nick, who seemed glad of a reason to turn away from Ron, who was now eating roast potatoes with almost indecent enthusiasm. "Yes, I have heard the Hat give several warnings before, always at times when it detects periods of great danger for the school. And always, of course, its advice is the same: stand together, be strong from within."

"Mushy peas," I stated, looking at the green goo in front of me. "Mushy peas. Seriously."

"The roast potatoes have got paprika, I guess," Percy said, frowning, poking at said item. "This is just sad."

"How can it know if the school's in danger if it's a Hat?" Ron asked.

"I have no idea," said Nearly Headless Nick, inching away from me as though I was threatening him. "Of course, it lives in Dumbledore's office, so I daresay it picks things up there."

"And it wants all the houses to be friends?" said Harry, looking over at the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy was holding court. "Fat chance."

"Well, now, you shouldn't take that attitude," said Nick reprovingly. "Peaceful co-operation, that's the key. We ghosts, though we belong to separate houses, maintain links of friendship. In spite of the competitiveness between Gryffindor and Slytherin, I would never dream of seeking an argument with the Bloody Baron."

"Only because you're terrified of him," said Ron.

Nearly Headless Nick looked highly affronted. "Terrified? I hope I, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, have never been guilty of cowardice in my life! The noble blood that runs in my veins--"

"What blood?" asked Ron. "Surely you haven't still got--?"

"It's a figure of speech!" said Nearly Headless Nick, now so annoyed his head was trembling ominously on his partially severed neck. "I assume I am still allowed to enjoy the use of whichever words I like, even if the pleasures of eating and drinking are denied me! But I am quite used to students poking fun at my death, I assure you!"

"Nick, he wasn't really laughing at you!" said Hermione, throwing a furious look at Ron.

Unfortunately, Ron's mouth was packed to exploding point again and all he could manage was "Node iddum eentup sechew," which Nick did not seem to think constituted an adequate apology. Rising into the air, he straightened his feathered hat and swept away from them to the other end of the table.

"Well done, Ron," snapped Hermione.

"What?" said Ron indignantly, having managed, finally, to swallow his food. "I'm not allowed to ask a simple question?"

"Those were some really good questions, too," Percy stated, nodding his head. "More importantly, why is there no salt in the mushy peas?"

And then as we looked on in quiet silence, the desserts appeared on the plates.

"Treacle tart," Harry told us, grinning. "It's my favorite."

"Uh-huh," I said. "Where's the cheesecake?"

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Cheesecake?" Percy repeated. "Ever heard of it?"

"Of course we've heard of it," Hermione snapped. "But we don't get it at the feast."

"Oh you've got to be kidding me," Jason groaned, leaning on my shoulder.

I swallowed some of the treacle tart, and to be honest, it wasn't that bad. Not as good as cheesecake, but still.

"What do you mean, spotted dick?" Percy complained. "You couldn't find any other name? Seriously? Spotted dick?"

"I don't know, mate," Ron said, shrugging as he shoved some of the dessert into his mouth.

When all the students had finished eating and the noise level in the Hall was starting to creep upwards again, Dumbledore got to his feet once more. Talking ceased immediately as all turned to face the Headmaster. I felt wide awake, and very hungry. Harry, Hermione and Ron were almost on the verge of falling asleep.

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," said Dumbledore. "First-years ought to know that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students--and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too." (Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged smirks.)

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four-hundred-and-sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door."

"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause, during which Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged slightly panicked looks.

Dumbledore continued, "Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the--"

He broke off, looking enquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Professor Umbridge cleared her throat, "Hem, hem," and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech.

Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, then he sat down smartly and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. Other members of staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair and Professor McGonagall's mouth was thin. 

"Thank you, Headmaster," Professor Umbridge simpered, "for those kind words of welcome."

Her voice was high-pitched, breathy and little-girlish. She gave another little throat-clearing cough ("hem, hem") and continued.

"Oh wow, the wicked teacher trope is already here," Jason whispered in my ear, smirking.