On Wednesday morning, Henry made a decision.
He had Mercury carry notes to Hannah, Susan, and Justin, inviting them to an informal tea that afternoon.
The notes were simply worded, they were all old acquaintances from the train journey, and it seemed a good occasion to catch up. A house-elf would collect them at the appointed time.
Hannah received hers while working through an assignment in the Great Hall. Professor Sprout had set them to copying out basic Herbology concepts, and the note landed squarely on her open textbook, drawing curious glances from nearby Hufflepuffs.
"What is it?" Susan leaned over.
Hannah read it, her face colouring slightly. "Henry Wales is inviting us to tea this afternoon. You, me, and Justin."
Susan took the note and read it through.
"A lighthearted tea party," she said aloud, "to thank you for the pleasant conversation on the train. That sounds friendly enough."
"Should we go?" Hannah hesitated. "He's Slytherin, and we're Hufflepuff."
"Why not?" Susan said. "He saved Neville. That counts for something. And we did get on well on the train, didn't we?"
Justin's reaction, when he found them in the corridor after receiving his own note, was rather more straightforward.
"Did you get the invitation? A tea party!" He was already pleased about it. "Excellent. I want to ask him how he's getting on in Slytherin."
At ten minutes to four, a house-elf in a neat tea-towel appeared near the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room. It had very large ears and wide, round eyes.
"Lucy will lead the way," it said in a soft voice, nodding to the three of them. "Please follow Lucy."
It guided them through several corridors, eventually arriving at the empty classroom on the second floor.
The door was slightly ajar, and a gentle melody drifted from inside, something Henry had put on a magical phonograph.
Lucy nudged the door open and gestured for them to enter.
The room stopped the three Hufflepuffs in their tracks. Warm-coloured tablecloths covered the desks, which held sets of fine porcelain teaware and a tiered stand of small sandwiches, scones with cream and jam, and several desserts.
It was, contrary to what they might have imagined from a royal invitation, understated and welcoming, and the slight tension in their shoulders eased almost immediately.
Henry was already at the table, dressed casually, and rose as they came in.
"You're here," he said, smiling. "Please sit down. I hope you didn't have any difficulty finding the place."
Once they were settled, Lucy moved quietly around the table, filling cups with clear, golden tea that steamed gently in the afternoon light.
"Try it," Henry said. "I think it suits the hour rather well."
Justin picked up his cup, surprised by how light it was. He sipped carefully, and his expression relaxed.
"It's good," he said, and meant it. "I genuinely like this."
"I'm glad." Henry turned to Hannah and Susan. "How are you settling in at Hufflepuff? I've heard the common room is very comfortable."
Hannah's posture eased a little more. "It is, warm, and very close to the kitchens. The house-elves slip us extra sweets sometimes."
"Hufflepuff is known for loyalty and diligence," Henry said. "Those are genuinely valuable qualities. I think each of the four Houses has something distinct to offer, actually." He considered a moment. "Think of a Quidditch team. Gryffindor is the Seeker: brave, instinctive, always pushing forward. Ravenclaw is the Chaser: clever, strategic, always thinking ahead. Slytherin is the Beater: sharp-eyed, protective, never losing sight of the opposition. And Hufflepuff is the Keeper, steady, reliable, the one the whole team depends on when it matters most."
The three Hufflepuffs looked at one another. They were not accustomed to hearing their House described this way, particularly not by someone from Slytherin.
"Do you actually think that?" Susan asked, a trace of disbelief in her voice.
"Of course," Henry said. "Every society needs its courageous leaders and clever strategists, but it also needs people who will do the essential work consistently and without recognition. Without them, everything the others build is unstable. Hufflepuff has produced a remarkable number of witches and wizards who may not be particularly famous but whose contributions were quietly indispensable."
He reached for a scone. "Newt Scamander was a Hufflepuff, I understand."
This was received warmly. Justin began adding sugar to his tea; Hannah took a sandwich; Susan settled more comfortably in her chair.
The conversation moved on from Newt Scamander's reportedly eventful school years to the general texture of life at Hogwarts.
Henry asked about their courses and shared his own impressions, his tone throughout unhurried and genuinely attentive.
When the subject of Professor Quirrell arose, he navigated around any direct criticism, noting instead his apparent depth of expertise in certain areas of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and said nothing whatsoever about the garlic-laden turban.
This was not, strictly speaking, untrue. Professor Quirrell, or, more precisely, the presence currently sharing Professor Quirrell's skull, was extraordinarily accomplished in Defense Against the Dark Arts. As a principle of strategy held: who better understands defences against darkness than the one who has most thoroughly studied the darkness itself?
The afternoon passed pleasantly, the refreshments largely disappearing in the course of conversation.
The mood had grown easy enough that, by the time the talk turned to the argument that had broken out between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, Justin leaned forward with the indignation of someone who had been waiting for a proper chance to air his account of events.
"They started it," he said, with feeling. "Zacharias, the classmate I accidentally hit with the Softening Charm, it was an accident. We're all still learning. And then some of the Gryffindors started calling us clumsy idiots, as though none of them have ever made a mistake in class."
"Ernie couldn't let that pass," Hannah added, more quietly. "He said something to the effect that Gryffindor had been quite content to stand and watch when Neville was in danger, and that it had been a Slytherin who actually did something."
She glanced at Henry when she finished, with the slightly uncertain expression of someone who had realised mid-sentence that they were talking about the person the story was about, and was not entirely sure how it would land.
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Early chapters: p*treon.com/palevolt100