In the Charms classroom, Char's earnest "Lumos!" echoed as he practiced. The little badgers around him, inspired by his determination and progress, pushed through their own fatigue. Even though their arms ached, they refused to give up.
Char had scored points for Hufflepuff, and the others didn't want to let him carry the house alone.
"Lumos!"
"Luma—no, Lumos!"
With each attempt, the first-years' spells grew more confident. Little sparks and glimmers began to appear at the tips of their wands. Those who succeeded first quickly turned to help their classmates, offering encouragement and tips. The classroom filled with a growing constellation of magical light.
As the bell signaled the end of class, Hannah Abbott, her cheeks flushed with determination, took a deep breath and tried one last time.
"Lumos!"
A gentle glow bloomed at her wand tip—the last Hufflepuff to succeed. Professor Flitwick clapped enthusiastically.
"Ten points to Hufflepuff for your hard work and solidarity!"
The little badgers gasped in surprise. They'd actually earned house points together! Grins broke out all around.
Meanwhile, the Ravenclaws looked deflated. At the start of class, they'd earned ten points for their quick success, but with Char's three points and the bonus for Hufflepuff's teamwork, Hufflepuff had thirteen—more than Ravenclaw! The eagles, proud of their reputation for brilliance, found this hard to swallow. Losing to Hufflepuffs, of all people?
But soon, hunger overcame disappointment. As the class ended, the Hufflepuffs cheerfully rubbed their sore arms and hurried to lunch.
"No more class!"
"Let's eat!"
"I'm starving!"
"Goodbye, Professor Flitwick!"
The Ravenclaws watched in bemusement as the badgers trooped out, then looked to their Head of House for reassurance. Professor Flitwick smiled a little wryly.
"Strange, isn't it?" he said. "Hufflepuffs are often thought of as the least clever, and Ravenclaws as the smartest. But today, the badgers surpassed you. Remember, intelligence and foolishness can be two sides of the same coin. Hufflepuff has produced more great witches and wizards than any other house—not just because of numbers, but because of heart. It's not unusual for eagles to be outdone by badgers."
Some Ravenclaws mulled this over, while others just clutched their growling stomachs and hurried to the Great Hall.
Meanwhile, Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years were leaving their Potions class. The Slytherins strutted with pride, while the Gryffindors looked subdued and gloomy.
Malfoy and his friends, still laughing, mimicked Snape's interrogation of Harry in Potions:
"The famous Harry Potter, let's see what you know!"
"What do you get when you add daffodil powder to wormwood infusion?"
"I don't know, sir."
"Where do you find bezoar stones?"
"I don't know, sir."
"What's the difference between Aconitum naviculatum and Aconitum chamaejasme?"
"I don't know—sir!"
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle sang the scene in chorus, shaking with laughter.
Char sat at the Hufflepuff table, half-listening as he ate, his mind more focused on the Goldfish Vine plants he'd distributed. Judging by the size of the reward orbs floating above them, Hannah Abbott's plants were maturing almost as quickly as Neville's. In about five days, hers would be ready to harvest. The rest would follow in two or three weeks.
Char's heart filled with anticipation. If his magical perception could be boosted to the silver level, it would be a real breakthrough. Every time his system's ability rating advanced, he felt a leap in his magical control and spellcasting.
He smiled to himself, already imagining the improvements to come.
Malfoy's laughter grew louder, snapping Char out of his thoughts. It seemed Potions class had played out just like in the original story—Snape grilling Harry with impossible questions. Char shook his head. Snape's questions weren't just about potion ingredients; they were about pride and regret, too.
He glanced over at Neville, worried for a moment that his cousin might have suffered the same fate as in the books—ending up in the hospital wing after a Potions mishap. But Neville, though pale, looked unharmed. Char felt a wave of relief. Neville was not only family, but his best Goldfish Vine caretaker!
But Malfoy and the others weren't done. They turned their attention to Neville, jeering.
"But Harry Potter isn't the dumbest one here. Merlin, how does someone as hopeless as Neville Longbottom even exist? Watching him in class is hilarious. Lucky he didn't throw the quills in while the cauldron was hot, or we'd have seen him covered in boils and crying. Want to hear what the professor said about Neville?"
At the staff table, Professor McGonagall's frown deepened. Professor Flitwick looked displeased. Professor Sprout's face darkened with anger.
"Severus," she said sharply, "you need to keep your Slytherins in line. That's too much. And you can't keep belittling students. Not everyone is a Potions genius like you."
Snape, however, was unmoved. "That's how I teach. For students without talent, it's kinder to let them know early, so they don't waste their time. As for the students' teasing, isn't it a Hogwarts tradition for professors not to interfere?"
He gave a thin, sarcastic smile. "After all, this is the magical world, not a fairy tale."
The other professors exchanged uneasy glances, but said nothing more. In the Great Hall, the students continued their meal, the warmth and bustle of Hogwarts life swirling around them.
Char, watching his friends and plants, felt a quiet resolve. He would prove—through hard work, kindness, and a little magic—that even the most underestimated Hufflepuff could shine.