Hansen was a young wizard with a round face, unruly brown curls, and a nose that blushed red under the cold. A fan of hearty, meaty dishes like lion's head stew, he also had a surprisingly gentle side—often found lounging in a sun-drenched corner of the Hufflepuff common room, happily tending to potted herbs for hours, humming while loosening the soil and adjusting the leaves just so.
Mess up his curls or smear some dirt on his nose? He'd just laugh and wave it off.
But today was different.
Today, Hansen was furious.
No one—not even the audacious Slytherins—was allowed to try and take Cedric away.
To him, Cedric wasn't just another student. He was a dear friend, the house's top scholar, a budding culinary artist, a natural-born leader, and—most importantly—the one who made everything seem possible for Hufflepuff.
And now those sly snakes were trying to recruit him?
Unacceptable.
It felt like someone had insulted an honest man straight to his face—and Hansen would not stand for it.
"Cedric belongs to Hufflepuff!" Hansen bellowed.
His fists clenched. His face flushed.
And then—he charged forward.
But he wasn't alone.
Behind him surged the rest of the Hufflepuffs, their normally calm and easygoing demeanor replaced with grim determination. They surrounded the Slytherins in a semicircle, expressions fierce, like a protective wall ready to shield their own.
The Slytherins—usually the ones causing others to squirm—looked unsettled.
Weren't Hufflepuffs supposed to be the least confrontational?
Where were the docile, forgettable badgers? What stood before them now felt more like a pack of agitated flat-headed badgers, poised to strike.
The snakes quickly huddled together, their circle tightening. Wands flicked nervously in their hands as they assessed escape routes and weighed their odds. Some, seeing how uncertain things were, hesitated and began quietly slipping their wands back into their robes.
Fists, then?
Things were about to spiral—until a blinding flash of light cut through the tension.
"Lumos!"
The spell flared from the tip of a wand—Cedric's wand.
He had pushed through the crowd with ease, tall as he was, and now stood in the very center of the standoff. The students blinked against the light, momentarily stunned.
"Sonorus!"
With a tap to his throat, Cedric's voice echoed through the corridor.
"Everyone, please listen to me!"
His voice was calm but firm, filled with the kind of authority that couldn't be faked.
"First, thank you, Slytherins, for your... flattering invitation," Cedric said, glancing toward the green-robed students. "But I belong to Hufflepuff. This is my house, and it always will be."
He turned to his fellow Hufflepuffs, his expression gentle.
"And thank you all for defending me. But this isn't the way. We're here to learn, not to fight. If we must compete, let's do it the proper way—with skill, knowledge, and honor."
The front line of Hufflepuffs began to relax. Hansen, who had led the charge, blinked like he'd come out of a trance.
"Well... as long as you stay in Hufflepuff," he muttered, stepping back and rubbing the back of his head.
A few chuckles broke the tension, and the confrontation slowly dissolved.
But Cedric hadn't seen what happened behind him.
The Slytherins were still watching him—with a mix of awe, confusion, and something bordering on admiration.
They hadn't forgotten how, earlier that day in Transfiguration, Cedric had stood before them and transformed into a towering, iron-eating beast.
Where the Hufflepuffs had seen something novel and adorable, the Slytherins had seen raw power—primal, commanding, and untamed.
The roar that echoed through the classroom wasn't just a show. It was a declaration.
And then there was this moment: Cedric, casting two clean, precise spells, taking control of an escalating situation, calming his housemates, and doing so without arrogance.
It was the kind of leadership Slytherins respected.
No... revered.
The Sorting Hat had said as much. Cedric had the traits of a Slytherin—ambition, talent, and the drive to win. It was only personal preference that had swayed him to Hufflepuff.
And Slytherins never forgot potential.
Once most of the Slytherins had retreated toward the corridor, one boy—pale, dark-haired, and clearly less nervous than the rest—turned back.
He fixed Cedric with a steady look and called out clearly for all to hear:
"Cedric, you have the blood of Slytherin—pureblood. And the belief of Slytherin—the will to win. Even if you're in Hufflepuff, you're still a Slytherin at heart."
The Hufflepuffs froze.
Again?
Were the snakes seriously still trying to poach Cedric?
Hansen's eyes blazed. He broke into a run, fists clenched, but the Slytherins were already fleeing into the hallway—laughing and shouting over their shoulders.
"Cedric! One day you'll recognize this fact!"
"You'll come home to Slytherin!"
"We'll be waiting!"
Cedric sighed.
That was going to be a headache.
But the damage had already been done. From that moment on, Hufflepuff unofficially entered a new mode:
Operation: Protect Cedric at All Costs.
Even in their usual classes, the mood had shifted.
That afternoon, the atmosphere bled into Professor Flitwick's Charms lesson.
It didn't take long for him to notice something strange.
The students were split—Hufflepuffs on one side, Slytherins on the other—and tension crackled in the air like static.
Every time a Slytherin glanced across the room, a Hufflepuff glared back.
The glared-at Slytherin would scoff or smirk… only to steal another glance moments later.
It was a silent battle, but Flitwick saw it clearly.
As a seasoned duelist and former champion, his instincts were sharp. It didn't take long to figure out the root of the disruption.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he tapped his wand on the desk.
"Cedric!"
The room fell quiet.
"Yes, Professor?" Cedric stood up quickly, confused.
"Come to the front."
Cedric obeyed, aware of the many eyes watching him from both houses.
Professor Flitwick gave him a look that blended amusement with exasperation.
"Would you kindly explain why my classroom has turned into the set of a dramatic play?"
Cedric smiled sheepishly. "It's a long story, Professor."
"I've got time," Flitwick replied, arms crossed.
Cedric hesitated—then glanced at the students behind him, who still looked either overly loyal or overly inspired.
He cleared his throat.
"Apparently," he began, "my house status has become a matter of public debate."
A few chuckles rang out. Even Flitwick cracked a smile.
"Cedric, I trust you to remind both Hufflepuff and Slytherin that we are here to study charms," Flitwick said. "Not to reenact house politics."
"Yes, Professor."
Cedric turned to face the classroom.
He was tired, but also amused. It wasn't every day you became the target of an inter-house recruitment campaign.
"Let's just all focus on our studies, yeah?" he said. "Charms class is more interesting than house drama."
That broke the tension a little. The students settled down—though Cedric could still feel their eyes on him.
He sighed inwardly.
He had only wanted to be a good student. Maybe a strong one, sure—but
not a symbol.
Still, whether he liked it or not…
He was becoming something bigger than himself.
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