Watching drama will forever be humanity's greatest motivator when it comes to procrastination.
With a loud shout, the entire Hufflepuff dormitory erupted.
Everyone surged out at once — a few first-years even ran out still in their pajamas.
This was where Hufflepuff's location once again showed its advantages: their dorms were in the basement, and the Great Hall was just above them.
So it didn't take long before they arrived at the "battlefield."
Inside the Great Hall, a large crowd had gathered. Wayne squeezed through a gap to get a look.
Sure enough, things were chaotic.
Malfoy and Harry were rolling on the floor together, limbs entangled.
Their wands had long since fallen to the side, but no one cared.
Wayne noted that Toby's colorful description hadn't been wrong — these two were practically glued together.
Harry was "stroking" Malfoy's hair, while Malfoy had "grabbed" Harry by the ears.
All while exchanging affectionate greetings laced with venom.
Malfoy's two sidekicks, Crabbe and Goyle, tried to intervene, but they were held back by Gryffindor students, who scolded them sternly:
"What do you think you're doing? This is a sacred duel!"
"Is ganging up on people the great honor of pure-blood families now?"
The two henchmen, who together had about as much brainpower as a troll, actually found the argument convincing.
So instead of jumping in, they joined the crowd of Slytherins and Gryffindors cheering their respective champions on.
Finally, Professor McGonagall arrived.
At the sight of her, the students instantly scattered like startled birds, hiding a safe distance away to keep watching the drama.
When she saw the disturbing scene in front of her, Professor McGonagall almost fainted from sheer rage.
"Potter! Malfoy! Let go of each other this instant!"
Only then did the two boys reluctantly release one another.
But even as they stood apart, their eyes were locked in a soulfully murderous gaze — silently cursing each other's entire family tree.
"How dare you!"
Right now, McGonagall was like an enraged lion.
Both Harry and Malfoy stood trembling, heads bowed low.
"It's only the second week of the term! And you're already brawling in the Great Hall — in front of everyone?!"
"Points will be deducted — thirty points from each of your Houses!"
"And detention!"
Ron couldn't help but speak up for Harry.
"Professor, it was Malfoy who—"
"I didn't ask you, Mr. Weasley. No matter the reason, public fighting is inexcusable."
With a single glare, McGonagall made Ron shrink into silence.
Just then, Snape arrived, having been informed of the situation.
His face was stormy, practically dripping with gloom.
He shot Malfoy a disappointed glare — if it had been anyone but a Slytherin fighting Potter, he'd be savoring this moment of punishment.
"Seven o'clock tonight. Come to my office and clean out dead toad carcasses.
You'll remain in detention until every last one is disposed of."
Snape set the terms of the punishment, and McGonagall didn't object.
Once it was clear the show was over, the crowd began to disperse.
Wayne found Hermione.
"What happened? Why were those two fighting?"
The little witch shook her head.
"I don't know. I was in the library. I just followed the crowd."
So even the top student wasn't immune to gossip-driven curiosity.
Just then, the Weasley twins came skipping over.
They'd already gotten the scoop from Ron and were gleefully ready to share:
"We know what happened. Malfoy thought Harry had been expelled, so he started mocking him non-stop — called him 'Scarhead' and everything.
One thing led to another, and they started throwing punches."
"That's it?" Wayne raised an eyebrow.
He had expected something a bit more dramatic.
...
"It's finally over… That was a nightmare."
On Friday afternoon, after two grueling Potions classes, Toby looked like a survivor of a battlefield.
Earlier in class, he had thrown Jobberknoll droppings straight into the cauldron without treating them properly.
Snape had gone off on him and docked five points.
Seeing the score gap between Hufflepuff and Slytherin balloon to 80 points, Snape had started ramping things up.
Wrong timing for adding ingredients? Points deducted.
Cauldron temperature too low? Points deducted.
Workbench not cleaned properly? Points deducted.
By the end of one class, Hufflepuff had lost over ten points.
"Why can't Professor Sprout ever show us favoritism?"
Hannah, walking next to Wayne, asked with a confused sigh.
"There's already enough favoritism," Susan Bones whispered. "Every weekend, Professor Sprout asks for help in the greenhouses, and it's usually students from our house."
"We usually get a few points added for that."
"Points aren't enough," Hannah said wisely with a soft snort. "We should learn from Professor Snape—deduct all the other houses' points. Then we'll be number one."
Wayne glanced at her.
Girl, you've got real potential to be an assassin.
The little badgers and little eagles left the castle and headed to the lawn for flying class.
Even though Neville had broken his wrist yesterday, everyone's enthusiasm remained undiminished.
No one thought they were more clumsy than Neville. Aside from Herbology class, most people couldn't see much wizarding potential in him at all.
They didn't have to wait long before Madam Hooch arrived, levitating several large crates behind her with her wand. They were filled with broomsticks.
Her expression was especially stern—it seemed yesterday's incident had given her quite a fright.
The Hogwarts teaching staff could truly be described as a mixed bag.
There were excellent teachers like Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout, and Professor Flitwick.
There were also ones like Snape—brilliant in his subject, but with a mouth as venomous as a viper.
And then there were teachers like Trelawney, who, aside from the occasional trance-induced prophecy, was practically useless.
It could only be described as a chaotic assembly of all kinds.
Clearly, Madam Hooch wasn't a qualified teacher either.
When a student flew into the air on their own, all she could do was shout helplessly and wait until someone nearly died before sending them off to the hospital wing.
With that level of skill, she was better suited to be a referee.
But today, it was clear Madam Hooch had learned her lesson.
The initial steps remained the same—she had the young wizards summon their brooms and wait for them to jump into their hands.
Wayne succeeded on the first try.
Some others had their brooms twitch a little; some rolled around on the ground.
After a few more tries, the brooms would grow impatient and give them a smack.
It took nearly ten minutes before everyone finally managed to hold a broom properly.
Next, Madam Hooch had them all put their brooms down and began instructing them one by one.
It was slow, but at least it was much safer this time.
To her relief, though the students generally lacked talent, none of them showed signs of losing control.
At last, it was Wayne's turn.