After the excitement of Transfiguration, the trio barely had time to digest lunch before being whisked away to their next class: Herbology. It was held in one of the greenhouses behind the castle, and the scent of damp earth and magical fertilizer greeted them like a strange hug.
Professor Sprout was already there, wearing thick gloves and a wide-brimmed hat that made her look like a kindly witch-gardener hybrid.
"Welcome, welcome! First-years, gather 'round!" she said cheerfully, brushing dirt off her apron. "Today we'll learn to pot puffing petunias. Completely harmless—unless you startle them."
She gestured to several small, blobby-looking plants that emitted gentle puffs of pink pollen with each hiccup.
"Looks like a plant that sneezes glitter," Dora muttered.
"More like a plant that explodes into perfume," Hadrian replied.
He was not wrong. Iris gently prodded one with a gloved finger, and it puffed pollen directly into her face.
She blinked. "I smell like sugar and grass."
"Better than what I smell like after broom cleaning duty," Dora said, poking hers harder.
Her plant let out a violent puff and tipped sideways, toppling off the bench and onto Terry Boot's robes.
"Oh! Sorry!" Dora said, trying not to laugh as Terry frantically brushed himself off and coughed sparkly pink clouds.
Professor Sprout merely chuckled. "All part of the fun. Five points to Hufflepuff for… enthusiasm."
Later, in Defense Against the Dark Arts
The classroom was dimmer than the rest, with old portraits watching them from the walls. Professor Quirrell stood at the front, twitching and stuttering through his introduction.
Hadrian eyed him thoughtfully. With his changes to the timeline, there should be no Voldemort possessing the man. Yet Quirrell still seemed nervous, if not downright haunted.
"Th-th-there will be no n-n-need to fear!" he insisted, as he nearly knocked over an inkwell with his sleeve.
The lesson involved identifying magical creatures from blurry illustrations. The trio worked together, whispering answers and sneaking in occasional doodles of exaggerated creature features.
Dora drew a grindylow with a mustache. Iris giggled so hard her ink bottle tipped, forming a spreading black pool on her parchment.
Hadrian tried to siphon it off with a cleaning charm. He only succeeded in flicking a blob of ink onto Professor Quirrell's turban.
The man didn't notice. But the class did.
Terry tried to stifle his snort of laughter. Dora whispered, "Tell me he didn't just tattoo the man's headwear."
"Shh!" Hadrian hissed. "Maybe it looks like a Rorschach test?"
Quirrell turned, confused at the sudden quiet and quickly dabbed at the stain, then resumed the lesson as if nothing had happened.
"W-w-well! That c-c-concludes our c-c-c-c-class!"
The students filed out with a strange mix of respect and amusement, many still sneaking glances at the now slightly patterned turban.
Evening: Back in Hufflepuff
Back in their warm, plant-filled common room, the trio collapsed into squashy armchairs by the fireplace.
"Best first day ever," Dora declared.
"And you nearly got us expelled for cat-flirting with McGonagall." Hadrian pointed out.
"Worth it," she said smugly.
Iris nodded sleepily. "And she gave us a point. That makes it educational."
They all laughed, basking in the golden flicker of firelight.