Adrian takes Nico's hand into his smiling pleased by the happy thrill that comes from Nico at the contact. Calmly the two stroll to the table decked out in green and silver. Carefully observing the subtle hierarchy they move to sit opposite of Malfoy and Zabini. Adrian carefully inspects the summoning and bashment charms on the golden plates mentally cataloging how to recreate them. When he looks up there's only one more person left to be sorted and he seems to be turning red in embarrassment...no anger. Best to stay away from him then.

"Ron Weasley!" they don't need to wait as the hat barely touches his head before it yells "Gryffindor!"

Professor McGonagall rolls up her scroll and gently takes the Sorting Hat away as Albus Dumbledore and his Auror chaperone and his assistant get to their feet. The man doesn't pay them any mind however he simply beams at the students his arms opened wide like he's going to lift off into the air. "Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" He moves to sit back down, his assigned Auror and Aid looking to each other utterly baffled. Everybody claps awkwardly and the table decked out in red and gold cheer loudly. "So he is a bit mad then." he says decisively and everyone at the table around him stops their similar comments to nod in agreement.

The dishes in front of him are now piled high with food. From the looks of things it is a bit of everything common to every realm that could go well together. Roast duck, roast boar, roast chicken, fried chicken, chicken parmesan, lamb chops, about nine kinds of sausage, four types of bacon, steak, seafood scampi, meatballs, crab linguine, pasta marinara, spaghetti bolognese, crab macaroni, cheese macaroni, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, yeast rolls, cheese sticks, breadsticks, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, mustard and oddly enough peppermints.

Adrian begins filling his plate with seafood scampi and crab linguine before pausing to look for a salad. "Is there a salad?"

"Do you want the regular lettuce kind, the pasta type, caprice type, sandwich kind or a fruit or vegetable melody your highness?" a voice asks from down the table

"Lettuce please."

"Cob, caesar, garden or greek?"

"Um could I try both the garden and the greek salad?"

"Yeah sure, hold on."

Adrian smiles as the students pass one of the extra plates down filled half and half with greek and Garden salad. "Is there anything you need?"

"Do you have any pasta? I'd kill for some meatball marinara."

"Yes, just a moment." he fills a plate with three large meatballs and marinara spaghetti before passing it down the table.

"Thanks!"

"No problem."

With that done he turns to Nico seeing him also trading plates with someone down the table.

"I was in the mood for barbecue." he says with a blush to Adain's raised eyebrow. Adrian smiles and goes back to his own food.

He's finished his plate and is reaching for some crab macaroni only to frown as a moment later desert appears in its place. He quickly wipes the chocolate icing off his hands and looks over his new options.

Blocks of Florean Fortescue's ice cream in more flavors than he realized they offered, miniature pies in apple, cherry and peach. Tarts; treacle, lemon, pear and chocolate. Chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts. Trifles, chocolate covered strawberries, Jello, and rice pudding.

He fills his plate with treacle tart, pistachio ice cream, chocolate strawberries and an extra slice of treacle tart for good measure in case the dishes are banished again.

At last, the desserts too disappear causing the hall to slowly silent, and the headmaster and his chaperones get to their feet once more.
"Ahem just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered." he silently mouths the words fed and watered confused. "I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." The headmaster looks at a pair of twins at their table eyes full of disappointment. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Adrian grabs ahold of Nico's leg through his robe and looks about alarmed. "He's not serious?" he demands of the nearest prefect.
"Must be." she says after sharing a shake of the head with the other prefects all across the hall. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere. The forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. He should have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore chears.

"What school song?" the prefect and several upperclassmen mutter to themselves confused.

The other professors, Aurors and his aid seem to be in a similar state of confusion. Dumbledore for his part gives his wand a small flick, as if he was trying to get a fleck of dirt off it and a long golden ribbon flies out of, which rises high above the tables and twists itself, snakelike, into words. "Everyone pick their favorite tune," Dumbledore instructs "and off we go!" And the school slowly, reluctantly begins to sing along:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something please,
Whether we be old and bald
Or young with scabby knees,
Our heads could do with filling
With some interesting stuff,
For now they're bare and full of air,
Dead flies and bits of fluff,
So teach us things worth knowing,
Bring back what we've forgot,
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,
And learn until our brains all rot."

Everybody has long since finished the song, only the twins form earlier are left singing along to an extremely slow funeral march. It is inspiring, as though to show their displeasure. Still they they do so with bright smiles on their faces. Dumbledore conducts their last few lines with his wand and when they have finished, he is one of those who clapped loudest though his eyes have long stopped twinkling, whatever spellwork he had on them having faded. "Ah, music," he says , wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"