Dumbledore made no attempt to stop the Hufflepuffs from celebrating.
Instead, he watched Alistair being passed between his cheering Housemates for another moment before turning toward Ilona with an amused smile.
“Professor Ilona, I’m afraid our little investigation interrupted your welcome gathering.
Shall we continue?
I was rather interested in what you were saying about magical customs outside Britain.” Ilona smiled pleasantly beneath Vinda Rosier’s borrowed appearance.
“Of course, Headmaster.
There’s nothing to apologize for.
In fact, I think I’ve already begun to love this extraordinary school.” Once Dumbledore and the professors left, the Hufflepuffs became even less restrained.
Their tabletop-boil party continued throughout the afternoon, with more ingredients arriving from the kitchens whenever something ran low and students constantly experimenting with Alistair’s sauces.
By dinner, almost nobody from Hufflepuff had any interest in returning to the Great Hall because they were still eating downstairs.
As a result, students from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin arrived for dinner and found the entire Hufflepuff table nearly deserted.
More than a few people stared at the empty benches with uncomfortable expressions, wondering exactly what kind of celebration was still happening beneath their feet.
By the time the gathering finally ended, Alistair was exhausted.
He had spent hours showing people how to prepare broth, correcting sauces, and stopping overeager students from throwing completely incompatible ingredients into the same cauldron.
His hands actually ached from all the work, and when he finally returned to his dormitory, he wanted nothing more than to collapse onto his bed.
He had barely settled down when someone knocked on the door.
A moment later, Cedric entered carrying several books against his chest.
“Alistair, you have to report to Professor Snape tomorrow evening,” Cedric said as he placed the books down.
“You haven’t even had your first Potions lesson yet, so I thought I’d help you get a head start tonight.” Alistair stared at the stack with tired eyes.
Cedric continued, “We’re obviously not going to cover much in one evening, but at least you’ll know the basics before Snape starts personally teaching you.” Alistair wanted to refuse and sleep instead, but after everything Cedric had done for him since King’s Cross, he couldn’t bring himself to reject the offer.
To Alistair’s surprise, they hadn’t been studying for long when there was another knock.
Grimm, the fifth-year Hufflepuff prefect, stepped inside carrying his own collection of parchment and books.
“I figured Cedric would already be here,” he said before handing several bundles of notes to Alistair.
“These are the notes I’ve taken from Professor Snape’s classes over the last few years.
They aren’t perfect, but they’ll give you a better idea of what he expects.” Grimm gave him a grin.
“You’re Hufflepuff’s lucky star now.
If you need something, don’t hesitate to ask.” Alistair looked at Cedric, then at Grimm, and felt something in his attitude toward Hufflepuff genuinely change.
At first, he’d mainly been relieved to avoid Gryffindor and Slytherin because both Houses seemed far too close to the trouble he wanted to avoid in the coming years.
Ravenclaw had also been acceptable, but Hufflepuff’s proximity to the kitchens and easygoing reputation had made it increasingly attractive.
After the events of that day, however, his reasons had become much more personal.
The House that received the least attention in the stories he’d known was filled with people who were loyal, sincere, stubbornly supportive, and far braver than outsiders usually gave them credit for.
For the first time, Alistair stopped thinking of Hufflepuff merely as the safest House.
It was his House.
That was how Alistair spent his second night at Hogwarts: sitting with Cedric and Grimm while they gave him an improvised introduction to Potions.
Cedric focused on the first-year material, explaining basic classroom expectations and the importance of following instructions precisely, while Grimm occasionally added warnings based on five years of surviving Snape’s lessons.
Alistair tried to memorize what he could, though exhaustion gradually made the words blur together.
By the time they finally left him alone, he fell asleep almost immediately.
Fortunately, Monday morning began with History of Magic.
Professor Binns, Hogwarts’s only ghost professor, floated through his lecture in the same dry, monotonous voice he had apparently used for years.
From the students’ perspective, he possessed one especially admirable quality: he seemed completely unconcerned with whether anyone remained awake.
Alistair therefore took advantage of the peaceful classroom to recover some of the sleep he’d lost the previous night.
As long as he wasn’t disruptive, Professor Binns appeared perfectly content to continue lecturing about goblin rebellions to an audience of open books and lowered heads.
Alistair needed the rest because the afternoon brought something considerably less peaceful.
Potions.
The first-year Hufflepuffs would be sharing the lesson with Slytherin, and by the time Alistair’s classmates started heading toward the dungeon classroom, nearly everyone knew about Snape’s unusual “reward” from the previous day.
The younger Hufflepuffs unconsciously gathered around Alistair as they walked, treating him less like a first-year heading to class and more like someone preparing for a dangerous appointment.
Alistair found the attention excessive, but after yesterday’s House-wide meal, telling everyone to leave him alone didn’t seem likely to work.
Slytherin had developed its own center of attention among the first-years.
Cassandra walked at the front of her group in dark-green-trimmed robes, her golden curls falling neatly around her shoulders.
She carried herself with the same confidence she’d shown in Diagon Alley and on the Hogwarts Express, and several Slytherins naturally followed behind her.
When the two groups reached the same broad dungeon corridor, Cassandra and Alistair ended up stopping directly in front of one another.
Cassandra frowned.
“You’re blocking my way.” Alistair glanced deliberately at the corridor.
It was wide enough for both groups to pass without difficulty.
If he’d been alone, Alistair probably would have stepped aside simply because arguing over hallway space was pointless.
Under normal circumstances, letting Cassandra have her way would have cost him nothing.
Unfortunately, nearly the entire group of Hufflepuff first-years was standing behind him, while Slytherin’s first-years waited behind Cassandra.
If he moved now, it would look less like Alistair politely stepping aside and more like Hufflepuff collectively clearing the corridor for Slytherin.
After everything that had happened the previous day, Alistair found that he suddenly cared about that distinction.
“Cassandra,” he said patiently, “the hallway is huge.
We can both walk through.” Cassandra raised her chin.
“You wish.” Alistair blinked.
He still wasn’t entirely sure what she thought she was winning.
Before either side could continue the ridiculous standoff, a growing chorus of footsteps echoed from behind the Hufflepuffs.
Alistair turned, and his expression immediately brightened when he saw Grimm approaching with several older Hufflepuff students.
Cassandra also looked over, but unlike Alistair, her expression darkened.
“Prefect Grimm?” Alistair asked.
“What are all of you doing here?” Grimm walked straight up and gave Alistair a quick hug before positioning himself casually beside him, which also happened to make the Hufflepuff side of the corridor considerably more crowded.
“What does it look like?
We came to support you.” Alistair stared at him.
“Support me?” Grimm nodded seriously.
“Don’t forget, Snape has been my Potions professor for five years.
I know exactly how his classes work.” He placed both hands on Alistair’s shoulders.
“Listen carefully.
No matter how much he criticizes you, mocks your mistakes, or makes you feel like you’ve personally offended the entire field of potion-making, don’t let it get to you.” Several upperclassmen behind him nodded solemnly.
“And if he takes points from Hufflepuff because of something you do, don’t panic about that either.
We’ve survived losing points before.
Nobody’s going to blame you.” Alistair didn’t know whether to laugh or feel worried.
Judging from everyone’s expressions, they were completely serious.
Still, warmth spread through him as Grimm continued giving advice.
These students had no obligation to escort a first-year to class, yet they had come anyway simply because they knew Snape had singled him out the previous day.
Cedric had sacrificed his evening to tutor him, Grimm had loaned him years of notes, and now several older Hufflepuffs had shown up merely to tell him he wasn’t facing Snape alone.
Alistair suddenly understood why Hufflepuff’s loyalty was considered one of its defining qualities.
With the upperclassmen surrounding them and the other first-years close behind, the Hufflepuff group headed toward the Potions classroom first.
Alistair walked at the front, though the arrangement felt increasingly ridiculous the closer they got.
When he reached the classroom entrance, he glanced backward and found Grimm and the others standing behind him with solemn, encouraging expressions.
For one absurd moment, Alistair felt less like a student going to his first Potions class and more like a condemned prisoner being escorted to his execution.
He almost expected someone to tell him to be brave.
Once Alistair and the other first-years were safely seated, Grimm and the upperclassmen finally left.
Only then did the Slytherin students enter, led by Cassandra.
Her face had become noticeably colder after watching so many older Hufflepuffs accompany Alistair to the classroom.
She walked directly toward the seat opposite him and set down her books.
“Alistair, it seems I underestimated you.” He raised an eyebrow.
Cassandra continued, “You’ve only been at Hogwarts for two days, and you’ve already gotten that many upperclassmen to stand behind you.” Her dark-green eyes sharpened with competitiveness.
“But don’t think that means you’ve won anything.
I’ll prove who the best first-year really is, starting right here.” Alistair immediately realized she’d completely misunderstood what she’d witnessed.
“Cassandra, they weren’t—” A low voice suddenly came from the classroom entrance.
“At least you’re marginally more competent than the Gryffindors I taught this morning.” Every conversation stopped.
Snape stood in the doorway, dressed entirely in black, his gaze moving slowly across the room.
His eyes finally settled on Alistair for a brief moment before sweeping over the rest of the students.
“None of you appear to have gotten lost on your way to my classroom.” His expression suggested this accomplishment had only barely met the minimum standard he expected.
“Let us hope your ability to follow a potion recipe proves slightly better.” Alistair straightened in his seat.
Snape was still looking at him.
And their first Potions lesson was about to begin.
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