(Huh? We're here already?)
Tom froze for a moment, then raised his head to look around.
An empty corridor stretched before him, dimly lit by flickering torches in iron brackets along the stone walls. The only decorations were a painting depicting a large bowl filled with fruit and a collection of enormous wooden barrels scattered about in slight disarray near one wall.
The air here carried a different quality than the rest of Hogwarts with the faint earthiness of a root cellar mixed with something sweet and yeasty that made his whiskers twitch.
If the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room was a painting like Gryffindor's, then why had Dumbledore brought him here? Tom's gaze moved between the distant fruit painting and the pile of barrels, confusion was obvious in his cat face.
(So... where exactly is the Hufflepuff common room?!)
Looking at the pile of barrels before him, then at the distant painting, Tom gazed at Dumbledore with obvious bewilderment.
The barrels themselves were massive, easily reaching his shoulder if he'd been in human form, their wooden staves were darkened with age and bound with iron hoops that had acquired a greenish staining.
"It's here. Follow me," Dumbledore said, his eyes were twinkling with suppressed amusement at Tom's confusion.
He led Tom to the base of the barrel stack and pointed at one particular barrel.
"See this one? The second barrel from the bottom, in the middle of the second row."
Seeing Tom nod with a quick dip of his whiskered face, Dumbledore took out his wand.
"You simply tap the bottom of this barrel in the rhythm of Helga Hufflepuff's name, like this."
As he spoke, he tapped the barrel bottom several times. The sound that resulted wasn't the hollow thunk Tom expected. Instead, each tap produced a clear, almost musical note.
Tap-tap.
Tap-tap-tap.
Tap-tap.
The barrel lid immediately rotated open as if some mechanism had been activated, spinning to reveal the passage leading to the Hufflepuff common room behind it.
Warm, golden light spilled forth, carrying the inviting scents of fresh baking, honey, and something indefinably cozy.
"Then, the passageway to the Hufflepuff common room opens."
However...
'Wait, the rhythm of Helga Hufflepuff? What on earth does that mean?! Why can't I hear any rhythm at all?!'
From Tom's perspective, Dumbledore had simply tapped the barrel casually with his wand a few times, and the lid had opened directly.
There had been no obvious musicality to it, no clear beat he could identify and reproduce.
As for any special rhythm? He couldn't detect any connection between the tapping pattern and the name "Helga Hufflepuff" at all!
Even his superior musical training... no, perhaps it was precisely this musical training that prevented him from grasping the pattern, because the concept of "rhythm" in his mind as a trained musician was completely different from what a musically illiterate wizard might consider rhythm!
What Dumbledore called a "rhythm" might be something else.
Dumbledore had no intention of explaining further, though.
Although he himself had spent considerable time in his youth figuring out what the tapping rhythm actually meant through trial and error, his long experience had taught him that Hufflepuff badgers seemed naturally gifted at understanding this pattern, just as Ravenclaw eagles could easily answer the bronze knocker's questions.
"You'll want to remember this tapping pattern. Hufflepuff is the only house at Hogwarts with an anti-intrusion mechanism. If you tap the wrong barrel or get the rhythm wrong..."
He raised his wand and tapped randomly on a nearby barrel. Without the careful precision he'd displayed moments before, he gave it a series of quick, incorrect taps.
"Bang!"
The sound erupted with explosive force, echoing down the corridor.
The barrel lid blew off like a geyser, propelled by a tremendous spray of dark liquid that fountained into the air with impressive velocity, arcing toward them with the accuracy of a well-aimed water cannon.
For a moment, Tom was certain he was about to experience his first magical vinegar bath.
But before the liquid could reach them, Dumbledore's wand moved with lightning-quick reflexes. A shimmering barrier appeared, and the vinegar struck it mid-flight, suspended as though time itself had paused.
With a subtle gesture, the liquid flowed into a floating sphere beside them.
Dumbledore observed the captured liquid critically, dipped his finger in to taste it, and his face immediately knotted in displeasure. His eyebrows drew together until they nearly met above his nose.
"Ugh... herring-flavored vinegar. Looks like my luck isn't very good today."
Nevertheless, he collected the vinegar and put away his wand, winking at Tom with perfect comedic timing. "See? If you tap incorrectly, you'll get doused with vinegar like that.
And don't think about selling the vinegar either. Some students had that idea in the past, deliberately tapping the wrong rhythm to collect and sell the vinegar that splashed out.
Later, when more young wizards started copying them, the headmaster at the time modified the magic here. Since then, the vinegar has been like Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans—you can get any bizarre flavor imaginable."
His expression turned momentarily wistful. "Come to think of it, it's rather unfortunate. Last time I tapped the wrong rhythm, it sprayed out cockroach cluster-flavored vinegar.
If you ever manage to get sweet vinegar from here, would you share some with me? I quite enjoyed adding a bit of sweet vinegar to my afternoon tea last time."
(All right, if I get the chance.)
Tom silently looked at the headmaster before him who had such an insatiable sweet tooth, finally understanding why some people called him "the old bee." His love of sweets was exactly like a bee's!
Of course, he wouldn't say this aloud, though fortunately Dumbledore wasn't about to use Legilimency to probe a little kitten's thoughts.
Seeing Tom's expression of deep contemplation, Dumbledore pointed toward the most distinctive painting in the corridor, the one with the enormous fruit bowl. "Oh, and there's that. Behind that painting is the kitchen you've been 'longing for'!
The house-elves in the kitchen are especially accommodating to Hufflepuff students. No matter what time it is, whenever you enter the kitchen, there will always be house-elves ready to prepare whatever Hufflepuff students need.
Of course, that's limited to food," he added with a smile.
"But being able to come for a midnight snack whenever you're hungry at night does lift one's spirits, doesn't it? You should know, this is a privilege only Hufflepuff students can enjoy!"
Though Tom wanted to protest that he hadn't chosen Hufflepuff for the food, looking at the kitchen so close at hand, his stomach betrayed him with a very undignified "Grumble—"
After all, it had been a full week since the start of term at Hogwarts, and he had been lying in the hospital bed for an entire week!
Although Madam Pomfrey had prepared nutritional potions for him and he wouldn't suffer any physical harm from hunger, the sensation of hunger itself was very real! Those potions maintained his health but did nothing to satisfy the psychological craving for actual food.
Especially now, thinking about the kitchen being so close, Tom could hardly contain himself. The aroma of fresh bread seemed to grow stronger, joined by hints of roasting meat and something sweet that might have been fresh pastries.
'I want to rush in right now and feast!'
"Hehe, it seems our little cat needs to replenish his nutrition more urgently than returning to his dormitory," Dumbledore said with an understanding chuckle having noticed Tom's predicament.
"Then let's fill your stomach first, and then I'll take you back to your dormitory."
Without giving Tom a chance to object, Dumbledore had already approached the portrait and reached out to tickle the large green pear in the painting.
Immediately, the pear giggled and squirmed transforming into a green door handle while a door appeared behind it.
Dumbledore pushed the door open, revealing a kitchen roughly the same size as the Great Hall. Inside, besides the bustling house-elves, there were several... badgers sneaking midnight snacks?!
The space was enormous illuminated by magical lights and the warm glow of numerous cooking fires. Enormous stone hearths lined the walls, each containing multiple cooking surfaces where pots bubbled and bread baked in brick ovens.
The heat created a warm, almost tropical atmosphere. Dozens of house-elves moved with coordinated precision, never colliding despite their rush.
The smells were absolutely overwhelming—freshly baked bread, roasting meat, pies with golden crusts, herbs being chopped. Every breath brought new layers of scent, each more enticing than the last.
These badgers were happily eating their snacks, but as soon as they looked up and saw Dumbledore at the entrance, they instinctively had the nearby house-elves send them back to their dormitories.
With remarkable speed, they signaled the nearest house-elves.
One by one, the students disappeared with soft pops as the elves transported them directly back to the dormitories. Within seconds, the kitchen was empty of all student presence except for Tom and Dumbledore.
Several had managed to grab their snacks before vanishing, one particularly dedicated badger even disappeared with an entire pie clutched to her chest.
Although Dumbledore could still find them through the house-elves even after they returned to their rooms, hiding for now was better than being caught red-handed.
Fortunately, Dumbledore had no intention of pursuing those badgers and simply let them go, watching their retreat with kind amusement.
"Wizard sir, the kitchen is currently... Oh! It's Headmaster Dumbledore! And this must be a new Hufflepuff student?! Welcome to the Hogwarts kitchen! Is there anything we can help you with?"
A house-elf approached with enormous eyes roughly the size of tennis balls. Upon recognizing them, it practically bounced with enthusiasm, its voice was rising with each offered option.
(No need to trouble yourselves, I'll help myself~)
Though Tom didn't know how these house-elves could tell he was a Hufflepuff, he couldn't worry about that now. If he could still exercise some restraint before entering the kitchen, now, seeing the abundance of food, Tom's brain had been completely taken over by his stomach.
He shot into the kitchen, grabbing a jug of milk with his left paw and snatching up a ham with his right, gnawing away while gulping down the milk.
He must have looked absolutely ridiculous, a small cat wrestling with food items nearly as large as himself, but Tom was far beyond caring about appearances.
The only thing that mattered was the glorious sensation of finally eating real food after a week of nothing.
"You can go prepare tomorrow's breakfast. That's an order," Dumbledore said gently, dismissing the house-elf waiting for his instructions.
"Oh, and bring me some lemon drops while you're at it."
Watching Tom wolf down his food with intensity, he couldn't help feeling a bit peckish himself.