Most of the time, Hogwarts felt relaxed—especially at meals. Amid laughter and bright chatter, the bustling welcome feast finally came to an end.
After Maka had efficiently eliminated a few of the second round of desserts, the plates on the tables vanished in an instant, cleared by magic until everything looked as spotless as it had at the beginning.
Professor Dumbledore stood again, and the Great Hall fell quiet at once.
"Now that you are all fed and watered," Dumbledore said pleasantly, "I have a few more words to say. At the start of term, there are certain notices I must give you."
He paused, and his gaze drifted toward the Weasley twins at the Gryffindor table.
"First-years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to students. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that too."
"Also, Mr. Filch the caretaker has asked me to remind you that magic must not be used in the corridors between classes."
"Quidditch tryouts will be held during the second week of term. Any student wishing to play for their House team should contact Madam Hooch."
"And finally," Dumbledore said, "I must tell you that any student who does not wish to suffer an unfortunate, painful death should avoid the corridor on the fourth floor on the right-hand side."
A small number of students laughed, as if they thought this was simply another example of Dumbledore's humor.
Most did not.
Dumbledore never joked about danger.
Maka thought this was probably connected to the Philosopher's Stone. As for the details—he couldn't remember them anymore. Besides, what did it have to do with him?
Compared to whatever "trial dungeon" was meant to stop Voldemort—or train Harry—Maka was far more interested in the Stone itself.
Of course, it was best not to even dream about it. He had no desire to be pinned to the ground and ground into the floor with Dumbledore's pinky finger.
In short, Maka didn't plan to involve himself in the year's drama. If anything, he felt he had too little time to study; there weren't enough hours in the day. He'd be doing well simply not to add trouble to those three little lions.
"Now, before we go to bed," Dumbledore announced brightly, "let us sing the school song!"
Nearly every teacher wore the same expression of sudden pain.
Dumbledore flicked his wand. A long golden ribbon unfurled into the air, twisting like a snake above the high tables, forming lines of shimmering words.
"Everyone may choose their own tune," Dumbledore said. "Ready—sing!"
The entire hall—well, most of it—burst into song.
Maka opened his mouth, tried, and discovered he was physically incapable of doing something this embarrassing with sincerity. In the end, he simply moved his lips like an idiot, blending into the chaos of mismatched melodies and saving himself by sheer anonymity.
When Dumbledore finally declared bedtime, Maka could have cried with relief.
And then he remembered they would probably do this roughly six more times this year.
His eyes almost watered.
"Alright, let's go! First-years, follow me—I'll show you the way," said the tall upper-year Maka had been talking to earlier, rising with a warm smile and a clear voice.
Was this Cedric?
Maka only remembered the name—he couldn't even recall the surname—but he did have a vague impression of a capable, righteous, handsome prefect.
"Doesn't look as handsome as I imagined," Maka muttered under his breath.
"What is it, little Maka? What are you staring at?" Charlotte stepped up beside him and spoke quietly, amused. "That's Darren Criss—he's a sixth-year. He's been Hufflepuff's male prefect since last year."
"Uh…" Maka blinked. That didn't match his memory at all. "I was wondering… which one is Cedric? I heard about him before I came—he sounds like a really good person."
Charlotte's face brightened in understanding. She nodded and said with a smile, "Cedric? Yes—absolutely. Give it two more years and he'll be a very popular choice for prefect."
Maka followed where she pointed. At once, a handsome older boy caught his eye. Cedric had been seated at the far end of the Hufflepuff table during the feast—no wonder Maka hadn't noticed him earlier.
Ah. That explained it.
There were age limitations for prefect appointments, and Cedric simply wasn't there yet.
"Then…" Maka asked, glancing at Darren's solitary figure at the front, "what about the female prefect?"
"Oh, that would be me," Charlotte said cheerfully, patting Maka on the shoulder. Then she leaned closer and added in a low voice, "I don't like leading people, so I usually leave it to Darren. He seems perfectly happy doing it."
Maka looked at the pretty older girl beside him—utterly shameless—and shook his head with a weary sort of fondness.
Under Darren's easy guidance, the Hufflepuff first-years went down a side corridor on the first floor and then continued down into the basements beneath Hogwarts.
"That way is the Hogwarts kitchens," Charlotte said as they passed a painting of a fruit bowl, nodding her chin toward it. "If you're hungry at night, you can go there and grab something to eat. The house-elves will be delighted to see you."
"All you have to do is tickle the pear," she added. "Sometimes it giggles. It's adorable."
The entrance to the Hufflepuff common room was nearby—yet when Maka saw what looked like an entire wall packed with iron-banded barrels, he froze in confusion.
"I assume you can all see it," Darren said with a smile. "A mess of great wooden barrels."
"And our common room entrance is among them."
"Of course," he added quickly, "I'm not asking you to lift a lid and crawl inside. Ernie—the barrel you picked is far too small."
He stopped Ernie in the middle of an extremely suspicious attempt, then continued calmly.
"Now pay attention. Hufflepuff's common room entrance is the only one in Hogwarts that has an anti-intruder jinx built into it."
"The method is simple. Take out your wand and tap the lids of the two middle barrels on the second row, keeping the rhythm of Helga Hufflepuff. The lids will rotate open automatically."
As he spoke, Darren drew his wand and tapped the bottom-lids of two specific barrels in sequence.
Immediately, both lids rotated in opposite directions. Then the entire stack of barrels shifted, and an irregular doorway opened before the astonished first-years.
Darren waited for the ripples of excitement to subside, pride showing faintly in his smile, before he continued.
"But there's one thing you must remember," he said, shrugging. "Because of the anti-intruder jinx, if you tap the wrong barrel—or tap the correct ones in the wrong rhythm—an illegal intruder will be drenched by several barrels above with enchanted vinegar."
He lifted his brows slightly. "Believe me. You do not want to experience that. The smell doesn't wash out easily, and you can detect that teeth-softening sourness from two hundred meters away."
Ernie shuddered violently and immediately developed profound gratitude toward Darren for preventing his earlier "self-destruction."
"Charlotte," Maka asked, puzzled, "if people found out the method, wouldn't it stop working?"
"It's one of Hufflepuff's greatest secrets," Charlotte said with a casual shrug. "No one wants to spread it. In over a thousand years, no outsider has ever seen Hufflepuff's common room or dormitories."
"We know how to hide," she added. "How to protect ourselves—just like our crest."
Maka looked up at the House crest on the wall. The badger gleamed with a dim, quiet light—understated, steady, composed.
"Hufflepuff," Maka murmured, reading the words on the plaque beneath it, the same baffled feeling returning to his face. "'Just and loyal; patient and true; unafraid of hardship.'"
"If it were me," he wondered aloud, "would I reveal the method to enter here when it was necessary?"
Even he wasn't sure of the answer.
The Hufflepuff common room was a round, low-ceilinged chamber with a faint scent of earth in the air.
It had been enchanted. In daytime, it always felt bright with sunshine. At night, soft points of light glimmered like fireflies.
Through the circular windows, you could see grasses swaying and dandelions nodding in the breeze. Polished copper decorations gleamed here and there, and plants were everywhere—hanging from the ceiling or arranged along the windowsills.
Professor Pomona Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff and the Herbology teacher, always brought the most interesting specimens to decorate the space, making it small but warm and welcoming.
Students sat or stood as they pleased, relaxing as if they were in their own homes.
Hufflepuff was the largest House in Hogwarts—and also the most united. For a thousand years, it had scarcely changed at all, which never failed to astonish the other Houses.
After a while, the first-years drifted off to their dormitories. It had been a long day, and the little badgers were exhausted.
That night, Maka leaned back on his bed and opened his textbook again, reading by the dim light. His roommates were already asleep, but he still wasn't tired.
Over the past two months, he had more or less adjusted to a normal routine. Yet tonight, he couldn't quite settle. His mind kept replaying everything he'd seen today.
He looked calm.
That didn't mean his heart was.
He read line after line, but almost nothing stayed in his memory. Only deep into the night did he finally drift off, still wrapped in his robe.