The warm stone corridors echoed with the sleepy chatter and trailing footsteps of the newly sorted Hufflepuffs. A prefect led the way, holding up a lantern and cheerfully pointing out portraits, alcoves, and tapestries as they descended deeper into the castle.
At last, they reached a rounded door set into the wall, framed by a mosaic of amber and black stones in the shape of a badger mid-leap.
"This," the prefect said with a flourish, "is the Hufflepuff common room. You tap the barrel here"—they demonstrated—"and say the password."
A few careful knocks and a muttered "Sunflower seed," later, the lid of the barrel swung open, revealing a round tunnel entrance.
Hadrian grinned. "I like this already."
Home Under the Earth
The common room was nothing short of cozy magic. A low-ceilinged, sunken space with golden lanterns, plump armchairs, and walls draped in tapestries of wildflowers and enchanted bees. The ceiling above was carved to look like the root system of a great tree, shifting and shimmering faintly.
Plants trailed from pots suspended in midair. A hearth crackled at the center of the room, casting flickering shadows and a delicious warmth.
Dora flopped into the nearest couch with a dramatic groan. "I've decided I live here now. Tell the professors I've retired."
Iris was already halfway to the bookshelves, eyes sparkling.
Hadrian, however, was eyeing the staircases at the back of the room—one marked for boys, one for girls.
A prefect, catching his look, cleared their throat.
"Just a note: boys aren't allowed in the girls' dorms, and vice versa. The stairs will enforce that. Always."
"Will they?" Hadrian said with exaggerated curiosity.
Dora narrowed her eyes. "Hadrian, what are you thinking?"
"Nothing," he said innocently. Then his body shimmered—
—and in a blink, he was Iris. Same red hair, same green eyes, even the little freckle near the left brow.
Iris gasped.
Several first-years shrieked.
"Oh, this is going to be good," muttered a second-year, nudging their friend.
Hadrian-as-Iris gave a graceful bow. "Merely a scientific inquiry. What happens if I look like a girl?"
He strode confidently toward the staircase marked Girls' Dormitories.
Dora sat up. "Hadrian, don't—"
Too late.
He placed a foot on the first step. Nothing happened.
He took a second.
Students leaned forward, holding their breath.
Then, with all the swagger in the world, Hadrian took the third step—
And the staircase vanished.
With a loud whoop! and an undignified thud, he slid down a slick stone chute and landed in a tangled heap on the common room rug, legs in the air and hair now a confused mix of Iris's red and his usual brown.
Silence.
Then: uproarious laughter.
Iris was doubled over, barely able to breathe. Dora was wiping tears from her eyes. The prefect was trying not to smirk.
"Worth it," Hadrian muttered from the floor, groaning. "Absolutely worth it."
"You buffoon," Dora said, coming over to help him up.
"Educational buffoon," he corrected.
Settling In
Eventually, the laughter died down. Iris disappeared up the girls' stairs (after Hadrian dramatically saluted her and said, "Don't let the stairs eat you"), and Dora followed with a parting, "If I hear you sneaking back up there, I will hex you."
Hadrian joined the boys in their dormitory—low-ceilinged, with warm beds carved into alcoves and thick yellow blankets. It smelled of chamomile, lemon balm, and firewood.
He collapsed into bed, grinning at the canopy overhead.