(Huh? We're already here?)
Tom blinked, then looked around.
They were standing in a completely empty hallway. The only notable thing was a painting of a giant fruit bowl on the wall, plus a scattered pile of huge wooden barrels lying around like someone stacked them in a hurry.
If the Hufflepuff common room entrance was also supposed to be behind a painting—just like Gryffindor's—why exactly had Dumbledore brought him here?
(So where is the Hufflepuff common room supposed to be?!)
Tom stared at the barrels… then back at the painting… then at Dumbledore with pure confusion.
"Right here. Follow me," Dumbledore said.
He led Tom down to the bottom row of barrels and pointed.
"See this one? Second row, middle, second barrel."
Once Tom nodded, Dumbledore lifted his wand.
"All you have to do is tap the bottom of this barrel in Helga Hufflepuff's rhythm, like this—"
He tapped the barrel a few times. A moment later, the barrel lid twisted open like a hidden mechanism had been triggered, revealing a tunnel behind it.
"And that opens the way into the Hufflepuff common room."
But then—
(°ー°〃)… Wait. "Helga Hufflepuff's rhythm"? What does that even mean?! There wasn't any rhythm at all!)
As far as Tom could tell, Dumbledore just tapped the barrel randomly and—poof—it opened.
Special rhythm? Rhythm of Helga Hufflepuff's name??
If there was a rhythm, Tom certainly didn't hear anything recognizable.
Honestly, his good musical ear might've made this worse. To him, rhythm was rhythm. To wizards with zero music theory… apparently it meant something else entirely.
Dumbledore made no attempt to explain more. He had once needed time to figure out the pattern himself, but years of experience taught him this:
Hufflepuffs just "get it."
Just like Ravenclaws always somehow solved their bronze eagle door-knocker riddles.
"You must remember this tapping pattern," Dumbledore warned. "Hufflepuff is the only house with an anti-intruder mechanism. If you tap the wrong barrel or tap the wrong rhythm…"
He casually tapped a different barrel with his wand.
BANG!
The lid blew open.
A blast of thick, black liquid erupted straight toward them.
Fortunately, Dumbledore froze the entire splash midair with a flick of his wand and drew it back together.
He dipped a finger into the liquid, tasted it, and immediately grimaced.
"Ugh. Sardine-can–flavored vinegar. Looks like my luck is terrible today."
Still, he stored the vinegar away neatly, then winked at Tom.
"See? Get the rhythm wrong and you get blasted with vinegar. And don't think about selling it—students tried that before."
He waved a finger knowingly.
"Too many students copied the idea, so the headmaster at the time changed the enchantment. Now the vinegar flavors are as unpredictable as Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.
Last time I made a mistake, it sprayed cockroach-pile–flavored vinegar."
He sighed dramatically.
"Anyway… if you ever get a sweet vinegar flavor, save a little for me, will you? I love adding a splash of sweet vinegar to my afternoon tea."
(…Sure. If I ever get any.)
Tom stared silently at the headmaster who was clearly obsessed with sweets.
He finally understood why people called him "the old honeybee."
Thankfully, Dumbledore didn't read minds—especially not the thoughts of one small hungry kitten.
Seeing Tom's thoughtful expression, Dumbledore pointed toward the fruit-bowl painting.
"And over there—behind that painting—is the kitchen you've been longing for!"
He smiled.
"The house-elves especially love taking care of Hufflepuff students. Any time you come in, they'll prepare whatever you need."
He added quickly:
"Food only. But still—being able to grab a late-night snack whenever you're hungry? Pretty great benefit, isn't it? Only Hufflepuffs get that privilege."
Tom wanted to say he didn't choose Hufflepuff because of the food…
But at that moment, his stomach betrayed him with a loud gurgle.
He'd spent a whole week lying in the hospital wing since the school year began.
Madam Pomfrey gave him nutrition potions, so he wasn't physically harmed by hunger, but the feeling of hunger? Oh, that was very real.
And now—the kitchen was right. There.
(I wanna sprint inside and devour everything!!!)
Dumbledore chuckled kindly.
"Seems like our little kitten needs food more than a tour of the dorms. Let's get you fed first."
Before Tom could object, Dumbledore already stepped up to the painting and scratched at the big green pear.
The pear giggled, wiggled, then turned into a bright green door handle. A door appeared behind it.
Dumbledore opened it.
A kitchen the size of the Great Hall stretched before them—packed with busy house-elves… and a few Hufflepuff students caught sneaking midnight snacks.
The moment those students saw Dumbledore, they panicked and immediately had the elves teleport them back to their rooms.
Sure, Dumbledore could still find them later.
But escaping for even a moment was better than being caught eating at the scene of the crime.
Luckily, Dumbledore didn't seem to care.
"Good evening, sir wizard, the kitchen is—
Oh! Headmaster Dumbledore! And this must be a new Hufflepuff student! Welcome to the Hogwarts kitchen! How may we help you?"
(No need! I can help myself!)
Tom wasn't sure how they even recognized he was from Hufflepuff—but who cared?
The moment he saw the piles of food, his brain shut down and his stomach took over.
He zoomed into the kitchen, grabbed a jug of milk in his left hand, a whole ham in his right, munching and gulping happily.
"You're all free for the night," Dumbledore told the house-elves warmly. "Go on and start preparing breakfast for tomorrow."
Then, with a fond smile, he added:
"And bring me some lemon sherbet candies while you're at it."
Watching Tom devour food so enthusiastically made even Dumbledore feel hungry.