HP: The Boy who Planted

"Although your spell is Lumos, the emphasis of the syllables is wrong," Hermione said, her voice both earnest and gentle as she watched Hannah Abbott try for the umpteenth time. "It's Lu-MOS! And when you turn your wand, you need to complete the first circle just right."

Hermione hadn't meant to intervene so soon. She'd promised herself she wouldn't be bossy, wouldn't lecture anyone outside of Gryffindor. But seeing the little badgers struggle with the spell, she just couldn't help herself. The words slipped out almost before she realized it.

As soon as she spoke, Hermione felt a pang of regret. She remembered all too well the eye-rolling and sighs from her Gryffindor classmates whenever she corrected them. Maybe she was being too much again. Maybe she should just keep quiet and let them figure it out on their own.

But to her surprise, Hannah's face lit up with understanding. "Ah? So that's how it is? I always felt something was off with my Lumos!" She immediately tried again, following Hermione's advice. Her wandwork wasn't perfect, but it was clearly improved. Hannah beamed, her eyes shining with admiration. "Hermione, you're so clever!"

The other Hufflepuffs perked up, their curiosity piqued. They crowded around Hermione, eager for help. "Hermione, can you teach me too?" "I think I'm doing something wrong with my Lumos as well." "Sit down, Hermione, let's fill up your dessert plate!" "Where's the fruit tea? Someone bring Hermione some hot fruit tea!"

Hermione found herself at the center of a warm, bustling circle. She blinked, a little overwhelmed. In Gryffindor, her advice was often met with annoyance or indifference. Here, in Hufflepuff, her knowledge was welcomed, even celebrated. She hesitated, then asked, "Doesn't it bother you when I correct you? I mean, I don't want to sound bossy…"

The badgers looked at her as if she'd asked the silliest question in the world. "Why would it bother us?" Hannah said, her voice earnest. "You're helping us get better. If we don't understand, it's right to ask for advice, isn't it?"

"Yeah!" piped up Ernie Macmillan. "We want to learn. If you're willing to teach us, we're grateful!"

Hermione's heart fluttered. She remembered her first ride on the Hogwarts Express, talking about the Houses. She'd thought Hufflepuff was the least impressive—just a bunch of average, unambitious students. But now, surrounded by their kindness and humility, she realized how wrong she'd been. There was a quiet excellence in their willingness to learn, in their lack of ego.

She straightened her shoulders, a new resolve in her eyes. "Alright then. Come one by one, and I'll do my best to help you."

Char watched from a nearby armchair, a gentle smile on his face. Hermione's teaching was as sharp as ever, every correction clear and precise. She had a gift, he thought—whether she became Minister of Magic or a Hogwarts professor, she was destined to change lives.

With Hermione's guidance, the badgers' Lumos spells grew brighter and steadier. Even the shyest students found themselves improving, their confidence growing with each small success. Char felt a surge of pride for his House. When the final Charms test came, the Hufflepuffs wouldn't just be background players—they might even surprise everyone.

As the lesson went on, Char finally turned to the letter he'd received. The envelope was marked "Very important—Charles must open personally." That alone made him suspicious. Who would send him such a formal, urgent letter? He tore it open and scanned the contents.

"Char Sprout, you poor wretch who grew up in the Muggle world…" The letter went on for several paragraphs, full of taunts and insults, before finally getting to the point: a midnight duel in the trophy room, with permission to bring assistants.

Char snorted. The handwriting was disguised, but the tone was all too familiar. Malfoy, he thought. This was just like the trick Malfoy had tried on Harry in the original story—except now, it was a written challenge rather than a face-to-face dare.

He tossed the letter into the fireplace, watching it curl and blacken in the flames. Hermione, noticing the movement, looked over. "What was that letter? Why did you burn it?" she asked, a rare note of curiosity in her voice. "Was it a love letter?"

Char laughed. "No, nothing like that. It was an anonymous duel challenge. Midnight in the trophy room, bring assistants. Classic Slytherin trap."

Hermione's eyes widened. "A wizard's duel? With assistants? That's dangerous! In a formal duel, if one duelist falls, the assistants take over until only one side is left standing. Char, you're not going, are you?"

The other badgers, hearing Hermione's alarm, looked up in concern. "Char, a duel? We'll go with you—there's strength in numbers!" "Should we ask Professor Sprout to come too?"

Char waved them off. "No need. It's obviously a trap. Malfoy's probably already told Filch, hoping we'll get caught and lose house points. And honestly, what decent little badger would sneak out at night for a duel? I'd rather spend my time tending to my plants."

The badgers relaxed, reassured by Char's calm. But Hermione's brow furrowed in thought. "If Malfoy sent you a challenge, he probably sent one to Harry too. He's trying to get both Hufflepuff and Gryffindor in trouble so Slytherin can take the lead."

She stood up abruptly. "I need to warn Harry and Ron!" Without another word, she dashed out of the common room, determination in every step.

Char watched her go, a little amused and a little worried. He doubted the Gryffindors would listen—Hermione was still an outsider in her own house, not yet part of the famous trio. But he admired her spirit.

He turned back to his system panel, letting the worries of House politics slip away. The words for his Pruning Spell were nearly lost beneath a layer of silver light. "After Soil Loosening reached silver, the change was huge," he mused. "What will happen when Pruning gets there?"

He picked up his wand, aiming it at a pot of goldfish spider plants. "Arbor-Siccus! Please clear away the dead branches!" Instantly, the weak leaves fell away and dissolved, their energy flowing back into the healthy parts of the plant.

On the system panel, the Pruning Spell's silver luster flared, brighter than ever. Char felt a thrill of anticipation. Each small step—each spell, each lesson, each act of kindness—was bringing him closer to something extraordinary.

As the evening deepened, the Hufflepuff common room glowed with the light of a dozen Lumos charms. Hermione's laughter mingled with the badgers' cheers. Outside, the castle was full of secrets and schemes, but inside, Char felt only warmth and hope.

And somewhere, perhaps in the trophy room or the shadowy corridors, a Slytherin plot was unfolding. But Char knew where he belonged: not wandering at night, but here, among friends, watching the magic grow.

_________

"Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed the chapter, please consider donating Power Stones and joining our patreon

[patreon.com /coolperry]

for early access to future chapters.(+30 chapters)