Remus was starving. For a start he had been to nervous to eat breakfast this morning, then he forgot his lunch for the train, and he had no money to buy lunch. The boys in his compartment gave him some sweets they'd bought, but he couldn't accept that many, and still, there was only so much room sweets could fill in one's tummy.
Professor Dumbledore suddenly stopped talking, as if he could sense how hungry everyone was. He beamed and sat down with a flourish. As soon as he did so the plates filled with the most magnificent feast Remus had ever seen in his life. Remus' eyes widened comically and grabbed for a serving spoon, not registering the icy burn assaulting him until he had almost touched it. He yanked his hand back and stared at the table in front of him again, but this time in horror. Everything was made of silver except the plates, even the serving dishes. There was no way he'd be able to eat anything, even trace amounts of silver made him sick.
He suddenly felt the weight of his lycanthropy more then he ever had before. What kind of a person couldn't even eat a sausage because it was touching a silver plate? A freak, that's who.
Remus leaned back a bit as his eyes almost filled with tears. He couldn't leave the table, no matter how much he wanted to. For a start the silver was really starting to irritate him, but also the food smelt so good! If he could just eat something he'd be able to tolerate the massive amounts of silver, and besides, everything seemed better on a full stomach. Pity you couldn't say the same things about certain other full things…
Remus shook his head to get rid of his melancholy thoughts, as a boy knocked over a goblet of pumpkin juice. A girl yelled at him and someone else started mopping up the pumpkin juice with a napkin, but Remus didn't watch the rest of the scene. He looked at the napkin resting next to his plate. If he wrapped it around the spoon he'd be able to touch it… it'd be uncomfortable, but he'd be eating… and if he took some soup from the middle of the bowl…
He winced as he wrapped the napkin around the serving spoon, the silver hurting his hand. But it wasn't burning him, and it didn't hurt so much that he screamed, like he did whenever he directly touched it for a while, so Remus carefully spooned out some soup from the middle of the serving bowl and sloshed it into his. He then dropped the serving spoon back into it's place, and rewrapped the napkin around his spoon.
After blowing on his soup he tasted it, careful not to let the silver touch any part of his mouth. It tasted absolutely delicious, if not a little funny. He ate the rest of the spoonful, savouring it in his mouth a little before swallowing.
Time seemed to slow down. He felt the bubbling in his stomach, the jump of his throat, the instinctive embarrassment of doing anything embarrassing in front of a large crowd of unfamiliar people he would continue to see every day for the next seven years.
He turned and vomited on the floor. Then he collapsed, heaved again, and continued vomiting. Everyone was now watching, and Professor McGonagall hurried over to the boy. Cheeks flaming, he continued to retch as his body tried to get rid of the tiny bit of silver he had ingested, and she led him out of the hall and to the hospital wing.
This must be a record he thought miserably. The Welcoming Feast hasn't even served dessert yet and already someone's been poisoned.