Gossip remains humanity's second-greatest motivator against procrastination. The first, of course, is smut.
The shout sent the entire Hufflepuff dormitory into an uproar. Students poured out in a frenzy, some still in pyjamas. Here, Hufflepuff's advantage shone again—their basement location meant the Great Hall was just upstairs, and they reached the scene in no time.
A crowd had gathered in the Great Hall. Wayne squeezed through a gap to find the thick of the action: Malfoy and Harry rolling on the floor in a tangle, their wands forgotten nearby.
Wayne realised Toby's description hadn't been far off—the pair were indeed clinging together like glue. Harry stroked Malfoy's hair, while Malfoy pinched his ear, both exchanging affectionate greetings.
Malfoy's two lackeys, Crabbe and Goyle, tried to intervene but were stopped by other Gryffindor students, who sternly rebuked them.
"What do you think you're doing! This is a sacred duel!"
"Is the glory of pure-blood families about ganging up on someone?"
The two boys, whose combined brainpower barely matched that of a Troll, found this reasoning sound and refrained from intervening. Like the other young snakes and lions, they stood by cheering for their respective leaders.
Finally, Professor McGonagall arrived, and the young witches and wizards gathered around immediately scattered like startled birds, watching the spectacle from a safe distance.
Upon witnessing this eyesore of a scene, Professor McGonagall nearly fainted from rage.
"Potter! Malfoy!" she bellowed. "Unhand each other this instant!"
Only then did the two reluctantly release their grip, though their gazes remained locked in a tender exchange, their minds still furiously engaging with the female ancestors of each other's family trees.
"How dare you!" McGonagall roared like an enraged lion, causing Harry and Malfoy to tremble and lower their heads.
"It's only the second week of term! And you brawl in the Great Hall, in front of everyone!"
"Fifty points! From each of your houses!" she declared. "And detention!"
Ron couldn't help but defend Harry. "Professor, it was Malfoy who—"
"I did not ask you, Mr Weasley! No excuse justifies public duelling!"
A single glare from McGonagall silenced Ron.
Just then, Snape arrived, having received word of the incident. His expression was so dark it seemed capable of dripping malice. He shot Malfoy a look of bitter disappointment.
Had it not been one of his own students fighting Potter, he could have made the boy's life a living hell.
"Report to my office at seven o'clock tonight to disembowel toads. Your detention ends when the task is complete."
Snape dictated the punishment, and Professor McGonagall offered no objection.
With the spectacle over, the crowd dispersed. Wayne found Hermione. "What happened? Why were they fighting?"
The young witch shook her head. "I don't know. I was in the library and just followed the crowd."
Even the brightest minds weren't immune to the allure of gossip.
As it happened, the twins, having extracted the full story from Ron, sauntered over, grinning.
"We know. Malfoy thought Harry had been expelled and started taunting him, calling him 'Scarhead.' They argued, and then it got physical."
"That's it?" Wayne scoffed. He'd been hoping for something juicier.
...
"Finally over. What a nightmare."
After double Potions on Friday afternoon, Toby wore the expression of a man who'd narrowly escaped death.
During class, he'd been berated by Snape for tossing doxy eggs into the cauldron without proper preparation, losing five house points in the process.
With the gap between Hufflepuff and Slytherin's house points now at a staggering eighty, Snape had intensified his scrutiny. Incorrect ingredient timing? Points docked. Cauldron temperature too low? Points docked. Workstation left untidy? Points docked.
By the end of the lesson, Hufflepuff had lost over a dozen points.
"Why doesn't Professor Sprout favour us like Snape does with Slytherin?" Hannah mused as they walked.
"She already does," Susan Bones whispered. "Every weekend, Professor Sprout asks students to help in the greenhouses—mostly ours. Usually, she awards a few points for it."
"Points aren't enough," Hannah declared sagely. "She should take a page from Snape's book—dock the other houses' points until we're in first place."
Wayne gave her a sidelong glance. 'Girl, you've got real potential as an assassin.'
The Badgers and Eagles left the castle and gathered on the lawn for their Flying Class. Despite Neville breaking his wrist the day before, it did nothing to dampen their enthusiasm.
No one thought they could be clumsier than Neville—except for Herbology class, most couldn't see any hint of his potential as a wizard.
They didn't have to wait long before Madam Hooch arrived, levitating several large crates behind her with her wand, each filled with flying broomsticks.
Her expression was unusually stern—clearly, yesterday's fiasco had shaken her. The teaching staff at Hogwarts could truly be described as a mixed bag. There were excellent teachers like Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout, and Professor Flitwick.
Then there were those like Snape—undeniably brilliant in his field, but with a tongue as venomous as a snake's—
A true Potions master.
And then there were professors like Trelawney, who were practically useless except when having one of her "visions." It was nothing short of a circus.
Madam Hooch wasn't exactly a stellar teacher either.
Faced with students taking off into the sky without permission, all she could do was scream and shout, then wait until someone nearly fell to their death before sending them off to the hospital wing.
At that level, she might as well just be a referee. But today, Madam Hooch seemed to have learned her lesson.
The initial steps were the same—young wizards calling their broomsticks, waiting for them to leap into their hands.
Wayne succeeded on his first try. Others had broomsticks that merely twitched or rolled on the ground.
A few more shouts, and the brooms even smacked them impatiently.
It took about ten minutes before everyone finally had their broomsticks in hand.
Next, Madam Hooch instructed them to set their brooms down again, guiding them one by one.
Slow as it was, at least it was much safer this way.
To her relief, while most of the students lacked natural talent, there were no signs of things spiralling out of control.
Finally, it was Wayne's turn to take flight.