Kate's day was going from bad to worse. Of course, William and his group of merry men had all been sorted into Gryffindor, and now they were being insufferably loud as they waited for Dumbledore to stand and give his welcoming speech. The noise in the Great Hall was steadily rising as the Sorting Hat was carried away, but all Kate could focus on was the irritating chatter coming from William's direction. It seemed like everything and everyone was conspiring against her today.
The William she had seen on television, attending formal engagements with his mother and father, was nothing like the William she encountered on the Hogwarts Express — they seemed like two completely different people!
She would have preferred to sit anywhere else than next to William, Oliver and their new friends—perhaps out on the steps, or even at the Slytherin table with Rupert.
The last two boys to be sorted, the Van Acker twins, were sitting annoyingly close to her as well, but she figured they made a decent buffer, sparing her from being directly next to William. Unfortunately, her luck continued to run out when William leaned across Hugh Van Acker (at least, she thinks it was Hugh), clearly determined to talk to her — or annoy her.
"Hey, Middleton! Move up, will you? We need more room!" William said, giving her an annoying smile. Kate rolled her eyes.
"Doesn't your mother teach you any manners?" Kate asked, her glare sharp enough to cut through steel.
William's expression darkened slightly at the mention of his mother. "She does—actually."
"That's what I figured," Kate replied smoothly, her tone casual as if she had never doubted it. She tilted her head slightly, her smirk growing. She had obviously forgotten about her unhappiness about not being sorted with that prat, William thought to himself.
"Well," Kate went on, her tone slightly pointed, "perhaps you should try using them sometime."
William wasn't sure he'd ever been spoken to like that before. His friends were now looking between him and Catherine, as though they were watching a rather exciting game of tennis.
Before either of the boys could say anything else, Dumbledore had stood up at the front of the hall and cleared his throat. Slowly, a hush fell over the hall and most of the eyes turned to Dumbledore.
"Welcome to the start of term feast," Dumbledore announced, his voice a bit shaky but full of warmth. His arms opened wide as he took in the faces of the students gathered before him, a familiar twinkle shining behind his half-moon spectacles.
"I suspect you are all quite famished after your journeys," he continued with a slight smile, "so I won't keep you long. But first, let's allow the house-elves to share their culinary magic with us!"
With a sharp clap of his hands, the tables underwent an impressive transformation. Suddenly, they were overflowing with a dazzling array of food at each of the four house tables—succulent roast meats, perfect golden potatoes, and bowls of vegetables stacked so high they looked ready to spill over.
William's eyes widened as he caught the eye of his cousin, Peter, who was grinning at him from across the table. "Is this all for us?" he asked.
"Obviously, you dope," Peter laughed. "Puts the meals we have at home to shame, doesn't it?" He asked.
William didn't bother with a response, too busy piling his plate high with mashed potatoes, thick slices of beef, and perfectly crisp Yorkshire puddings. The mouthwatering smell made him groan in pleasure as he took it all in.
On the other side of Peter, Zara shot him a disbelieving look. "Merlin's beard, Will! Anyone would think you were never fed! Slow down, will you? I'd rather not spend the evening explaining to your mother how you met your end—death by Yorkshire pudding."
