Oliver Twist meets Harry Potter

Thanks Malfoy! Yer just got me famous!

"Gryffindor!" screamed the sortin' 'at, an' the far left table roared its approval. I made my way over, where Ron's twin brothers 'ad made a space for me between 'em. 

"So, Jack is it? We are-"

"Fred," 'e pointed to 'is brother.

"And George," the other one copied. 

"At your service." They doffed imagin'ry caps at me.

After a while, our table clapped again, an' guess who sat opposite us? Miss Bossy Boots. Oh joy. Gonna spend another seven years with 'er. I'd rather eat.......actually, I'll eat anything so that don't work.

"Potter, Harry." Well, that set 'em off again, didn't it?

Harry sat on that stool for ages, an' the 'at may 'ave been a-whisperin' to 'im, 'til it finally yelled:

"Gryffindor!"

I don't wanna bore ya really; in fact, I kinda like yer all. So I'll sum up the sortin' in one sentence:

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Oliver an' I are all Gryffindors; Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bullstrode an' Daphne Greengrass are pure evil (translates as Slytherin); Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones, an' many others are Hufflepuffs; Terry Boot an' couple o' others are in Ravenclaw.

O' course, I can't remember all o' 'em, but that's OK. I'm gonna tell yer 'bout the most impor'ant bit now: the feast. 

Afore we could do no eatin', Dumbledore stepped up. Then comes the best bit.

"Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our feast, I should like to say a few words. Here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

Now, dunno 'bout yerself, but I found that blinkin' hilarious! Ron snorted into my shoulder, ('e was sittin' next to me now) whilst Harry an' Oliver looked confused.

"Is he......."

"Is he slightly mad?" they asked the oldest Weasley brother, Percy.

"Dumbledore? He's the greatest wizard of all time! Can't do any wrong. But he is a bit bonkers, yes."

I stared at the table, full o' empty plates, it was. I wondered when we was gonna get food- when it appeared, out o' nowhere. Ne'er, in all me days, 'ad I seen that much food! It was just food glorious food!

There was at least three types o' steak- fried, roasted an' stewed. I could see 'ot sausages, an' mustard; pease puddin' an' saveloys. Wot next? There was roast potatoes, mash potatoes, boiled potatoes, squashed potatoes, baked potatoes, potatoes potatoes- deliciousness all 'round!

"Well, tuck in then!" urged a voice to me right.

 I turned- just managin' to stifle a scream in me robes. Why? Cos there was a ghost in the cabbage!

"Wot the-?"

"Oh, where are my manners? My name is Sir Nicholas De Mimsy Porpington, Gryffindor house ghost. And you are?"

I 'ave to admit, I may 'ave dropped some o' my cool by then- an' me steak- but this was a dead guy talkin' to me, with 'is 'ead comin' out o' veggies.

"M-my name's Jack Dawkins." I glanced about- Oliver an' Harry seemed to be in deep conversation. It was safe.  "Better known among me more intimate friends as the Artful Dodger. Just call me Dodger, an' I'll forgive ya for makin' me drop me steak."

'E laughed at this- why? I was a-bein' deadly serious! Ron looked 'round then, away from 'is piled plate. Seemin' to o' over'eard us, 'e gasped.

"I know you! You're Nearly Headless Nick!"