It was early Monday morning, and the dungeon corridors were brisk with the scent of damp stone and over-polished floors. The trio moved quietly, steps echoing in that special "too-quiet" kind of way that meant mischief was brewing.
Slughorn's Potions classroom loomed ahead — wide, dark, and lined with shelves of mysterious jars. The perfect setting for their debut.
"Alright," Hadrian whispered, drawing his wand. "Review: Moocharm in place, ink swap complete, and the cauldron—"
"Pre-loaded to bubble up pink the moment it heats," Iris finished with a gleam in her eyes.
"And the extra tiny umbrellas?" Dora asked, bouncing on her heels.
Hadrian held up a pouch with mini parasols that he had painstakingly Transfigured from toothpicks. "Five colors. Extra fancy."
"Then let's roll," Dora whispered.
They snuck inside just as the morning torches were being lit by floating, enchanted sparks. Dora scurried to the professor's desk, eyes scanning for traps or lurking ghosts. Finding none, she tapped the plush chair with her wand and whispered, "Vaca Sonare."
The spell settled like a shimmer of dust.
Meanwhile, Iris was at the ingredient shelf, swapping a bottle of perfectly normal blue ink with one charmed to turn skin bright green for exactly five minutes upon contact — no side effects, just an embarrassing hue.
Hadrian, ever the strategist, adjusted the small flames under one of the student cauldrons, making sure it would trigger the pink foam charm once Slughorn gave his usual "now stir, class!"
Mission accomplished, they exited like professionals, blending back in with the incoming crowd of sleepy students.
Minutes later, the classroom was full and buzzing. Dora, Hadrian, and Iris were seated side by side at one of the front tables, pretending to skim their notes. Hadrian had to bite his cheek to keep from grinning.
Slughorn entered with his usual jolly stride, humming a tune as he made his way to his desk.
And then… he sat.
"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO."
The entire classroom went silent.
Slughorn froze mid-lowering.
"M-Mr. Potter?" he said slowly, cheeks twitching.
"Yes, Professor?" Hadrian replied innocently, keeping a perfectly straight face.
Another moo echoed from the chair as Slughorn leaned back, making the entire class burst into giggles.
"I believe—" the professor tried to recover, adjusting his vest, "—that my chair may have developed… cow-like tendencies."
It moooed again.
Even some of the Slytherins were wheezing.
Dora had her face buried in her arms, shoulders shaking. Iris gave a delicate cough that failed to hide her laugh.
Trying to salvage the lesson, Slughorn reached for his favorite quill. The moment his fingers closed around it, a faint shimmer ran up his hand — and his skin flushed a brilliant, vivid green.
"I—! Wh—?!"
A few gasps. A few strangled chuckles.
Slughorn sighed dramatically. "I do hope whoever's responsible has at least a promising future in advanced Charms."
No one confessed, of course.
And when the pink foam burst from the cauldron five minutes later and a tiny paper umbrella landed on Nevilla's nose, Slughorn simply threw up his hands and laughed along with the rest.
"Well then!" he boomed. "Let it never be said that what I believe to be Hufflepuff lacks... creativity!"
Dora leaned over to Hadrian and whispered, "I think we just passed initiation."
Hadrian whispered back, "No. We've redefined it."
Iris added, "Next time, we aim for the staff room."
They left the class with sore ribs from laughing, and a newfound confidence.
The prank war had officially begun.
And no one expected the badgers to lead the charge.