Looking at the gloomy expressions on all the first-years' faces, Truman couldn't help shaking his head sympathetically. This was just the beginning—things would only get worse from here.
As the only Potions professor in the entire school—and a master alchemist recognized across the wizarding world—Snape was known for being "perfectly equal" in how he treated students, regardless of House or year.
Meaning: he insulted, criticized, and deducted points from every House…
Except Slytherin.
As a prefect, Truman had been at Hogwarts for five years, and Snape had been "taking care" of him for all five. Five years! No one knew better than he did how hard those years had been.
Luckily, after enduring Snape's constant targeting, Hufflepuff had developed a precious internal manual of "survival tips":
"Alright, has everyone memorized the Potions Class Survival Rules I taught you last week?
Rule One: After breakfast, go straight to the classroom and sit down quietly. Never, ever be late.
Rule Two: Don't talk back to the professor. No matter what he says, just look down and pretend you're sorry.
Rule Three: Follow instructions exactly as Snape gives them. Unless you truly believe your potions skills surpass a master like Snape—no matter how different his instructions are from the textbook—you must do things his way.
Rule Four: If he asks you a question and you don't know the answer, admit it. Don't ramble, don't stall, and definitely don't spout nonsense. Otherwise, the consequences will be worse.
…
Rule Ten: If any of these rules fail you, report to me—the Hufflepuff prefect. I'll update and improve the Snape Potions Class Survival Guide.
Got it?"
Technically, he was reminding all the freshmen—but his eyes were fixed squarely on Tom.
It was obvious: this was a make-up lesson for the classmate who had "skipped the entire first week of school" and missed the usual orientation.
This feels like one of those creepy rule-based horror stories from my previous life… Tom grumbled inwardly, then nodded:
[Don't worry, I remember all of it!]
Of course, understanding was one thing. Following the rules was another.
As a cat the Sorting Hat considered embodying the virtues of three Houses equally, Tom had a streak of rebellion in him.
And the rules clearly stated: "Unless you believe your potions skills surpass Snape's."
On that point, Tom had plenty of confidence.
As for his actual brewing methods? Good luck guessing. Guess wrong and he wouldn't say a word.
Legal or not, standard procedure or not—if the potion worked and worked well, who cared about the steps?
Naturally, Truman had no idea what Tom was thinking. Seeing Tom nod, he smiled with satisfaction.
"Good. Remember, these rules are the reason Hufflepuff has held second place in the House Cup for so many years!
Since Snape deducts points 'fairly' from everyone except Slytherin, all we have to do is lose the fewest points.
We may never beat Snape's darlings in Slytherin, but as long as we secure second place, that counts as a win!"
Listening to Truman's very "righteous" declaration, Tom didn't even know how to respond.
Look at this. Look at what Snape has done.
He's warped these poor kids so badly they think "second place means victory."
Still… Hufflepuff holding second place so consistently is kinda impressive…
Honestly, yeah. They might seem a bit cowardly, but holding the second-place throne year after year took real skill.
And that Potions survival guide?
One of a kind at Hogwarts.
Even more impressive, the older students constantly updated it and freely shared it with all new Hufflepuffs.
That level of solidarity? Other Houses couldn't dream of it.
—And no, this is absolutely not a jab at the Gryffindors.
Really. Absolutely not.
Though realistically, not even the Savior himself could get Gryffindor to follow these rules… unless his name were Haley Potter instead of Harry.
"Alright, don't overthink it. You'll understand everything once class starts."
Seeing Tom lost in thought, Truman assumed he was studying the rules and patted him on the shoulder.
"For now? Let's enjoy breakfast. This is one of our exclusive Hufflepuff perks~"
He clapped his hands.
"Henry, I'll take the standard breakfast today! And no rye bread—whole wheat!"
A house-elf popped into existence before him, holding a tray with orange juice, bread, and jam.
"Honored wizard sir, here is your breakfast. Please enjoy."
Truman took the tray, shot Tom a wink, and said:
"See? That's the Hufflepuff advantage—direct access to the kitchen elves.
Anytime you need food, just call an elf who works in the kitchen and say what you want, and they'll bring it right over.
Of course, unless we're in a hurry or eating late-night snacks, we usually join the others in the Great Hall."
He glanced at the tray and frowned.
"Just this? What about bacon and milk?"
"T-This…"
Henry immediately panicked. Then he spun around and rammed his head against a pillar.
"Henry is wrong! Henry failed to prepare the ingredients! Henry has deprived the wizard of a delicious breakfast! Henry must be punished—"
"Whoa—stop! I was just asking. I'm not blaming you. This is plenty. Go on now."
Truman quickly dismissed the self-punishing elf, then gave Tom a helpless shrug.
"And that's the downside. When they can't fulfill your request, they go overboard blaming themselves.
Just distract them with something and send them on their way.
So—want to try it yourself?"
Tom remembered his promise to Ariana and was about to decline when a cheerful voice came from inside the wall:
"Hey, which one of you is Tom?"
The Fat Friar, Hufflepuff's resident ghost, drifted halfway out of a stone wall. His gaze swept the room, locked onto Tom—the unique new "wizard"—and floated over joyfully.
"You must be Tom! I'm the Fat Friar—welcome to Hufflepuff!
Oh, right, I've got a message for you. Ariana from Gryffindor asked me to tell you she's been 'sealed away by the Blanket Demon King' and probably won't make it to breakfast. She hopes you understand.
By the way, who is this Blanket Demon King? Another dark wizard? Who dares cause trouble at Hogwarts?"
Ignoring the Friar's complaints, Tom thanked him, then casually wrote down the name of a kitchen elf and happily enjoyed the breakfast that soon arrived.
Indeed—every good wizarding day should start with a delicious breakfast~ (￣▽￣)~