Throughout the whole of the welcoming speech, Jimmy had been tapping his foot restlessly in time to the growls of his stomach. While he'd spent most of his loose change on the trolley (and still had sweets to spare in his book bag, which was left on the train for the house elves to move) it was never enough for a growing boy, [i]clearly[/i], at least not in the way that a meal of red meat and white meat and brown sauce and brussel sprouts were.

He wasted very little time in tearing into the feast as if the plates didn't magically refill, his fork nearly stabbing into another Gryffindor student's hand in his haste to get the first slice of turkey. [i]Who cares about the missing students or the new classes?[/i] Jimmy thought savagely – and a little insensitively, given he had known some of them – around a mouthful. [i]And why, in Merlin's name, is that Ravenclaw just stoating around when he could be eating–[/i] 

“Do I smell toffee?” the Gryffindor asked aloud to the rest of his corner of the table, looking around as if expecting the desserts to have already replaced the main course. He cast a suspicious eye towards the wanderer with the goblet in hand. If it's strange, it must be a Ravenclaw's doing.