"The charm to deal with a Billywig is very simple, but it requires your full concentration. You must be completely focused when reciting the charm, clear about your goal, and not careless in the slightest. You should know that Billywigs fly very fast, and they won't give you a second chance to cast the charm."
After carefully explaining the key points, Professor Oren continued, "Let's not practice with our wands just yet. Repeat after me—Relashio!"
"Relashio!" the young witches and wizards echoed in unison.
"Very good," said Professor Oren, clearly satisfied. "Now, we'll test the effectiveness of your charm."
He instructed the class to line up and take turns casting the charm on the Billywig inside the cage. Kanna was the first in line, though she hadn't started there. Originally in the middle of the group, she had been nudged to the front by the enthusiastic Gryffindors surrounding her.
Ever since Professor Oren had called out her name, the Gryffindors had been whispering, curious as to what made this small witch so special—how had she managed to win over someone like Snape?
"A brave girl," Professor Oren smiled warmly. "I remember your name is Kanna, correct?"
"Yes, Professor," she replied.
With two previous experiences under her belt, Kanna felt more prepared than before. Though still nervous, she was now capable of holding a normal conversation, and instead of her instinct being to flee, her first thought was to answer the professor's question.
"Don't be afraid; it's just a simple spell," Professor Oren encouraged patiently. "Remember what I told you—focus, concentrate. You can do it. Believe in yourself."
Kanna took a deep breath, closed her eyes briefly, and thrust her wand forward with all her strength.
"Relashio!" she shouted.
There was a loud swish as the air seemed to part with the force of her spell. Professor Oren instinctively took a small step back, impressed. The power behind her casting was enough that, had anyone been close enough, no charm would have been necessary to deal with the Billywig—it would have been taken out by sheer force.
Fortunately, the result was what mattered. As the spell ended, the Billywig in the cage collapsed to the ground.
"Not bad, Hufflepuff. One point," Professor Oren praised, already preparing a second cage.
The day before, out of inexperience, he had only brought three Billywigs to the Ravenclaw and Slytherin classes. He had assumed that would be enough, but he was wrong. Sometimes the first Billywig hadn't even recovered before the third one had fallen.
And each time, the students would stare at him expectantly, leading to some rather awkward moments. Today, however, he had come better prepared, bringing ten Billywigs—enough to ensure there wouldn't be a repeat of yesterday's embarrassment.
"Next up, Santos," Professor Oren called.
Santos stepped forward nervously, raised his wand, and attempted the charm. "Relashio..." he muttered.
Nothing happened. The Billywig inside the cage continued to spin merrily in circles.
"Relax, don't be so tense," Professor Oren said gently, walking over to him. "You need to pronounce the incantation clearly. The last sound was too soft. Try again."
Santos nodded, took a deep breath, and raised his wand once more. "Relashio!"
This time, the spell worked.
"Very good. Next!" Professor Oren said, switching out the cage once again.
With two successful attempts in a row, the other students felt their confidence grow. They eagerly awaited their turn. However, their newfound confidence led some to become careless. As their turns came, a few completely forgot the instructions and, without even aiming at the cage, simply shouted the charm.
The result? The Billywig remained unharmed, but the cages fell apart instead.
Professor Oren, now forced to be on high alert, had to constantly repair the cages, casting the Mending Charm over and over. But soon, he realized he had underestimated just how chaotic things could get.
Near the back of the line, a Gryffindor student, unable to see past the taller students in front of him, muttered the charm under his breath, practicing in advance. He wanted to be ready to impress everyone when his turn came... but in his excitement, he forgot that he was still holding his wand.
Over by the lectern, Professor Oren, in the middle of repairing yet another cage, suddenly felt his legs give way as he collapsed to the floor.
If it had just been a simple fall, it wouldn't have been much of a problem. After all, Professor Oren was a strong adult wizard, and at worst, he would have grazed himself—an injury easily remedied with a quick Dittany Band-Aid.
The real issue, however, was that his Mending Charm had been interrupted.
A Billywig escaped from the broken cage, buzzing furiously toward the students in front of it.
For a long time now, the Billywig had harbored resentment. It had been made to feel weak and powerless since yesterday. Now, it was ready for revenge.
Chaos ensued. Some of the young witches and wizards panicked and began running around the classroom, while others raised their wands, shouting desperately.
"Relashio!"
"Relashio!"
...
A dozen Charms flew through the air, not quite hitting the Billywig, but effectively stopping it from advancing. The young wizards, now more excited than ever, acted as if they'd stumbled upon a thrilling new challenge. With their wands raised high, they prepared to target the Billywig again, eager to repeat their near-success.
"Stop right there!" Professor Oren, still on the ground, suddenly shouted, his voice full of frustration.
As the Billywig buzzed over his head, he whipped out his wand and bellowed, "Petrificus Totalus!"
The spell hit its mark, and the Billywig stiffened in midair before tumbling to the floor. Professor Oren reached out just in time to catch it. With some effort, he placed the immobilized creature back into its cage and slowly stood up, wincing as he rubbed his aching back.
No wonder they say being the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts is a thankless task, he thought bitterly. It really is a pain in the ass.
Gritting his teeth, Professor Oren turned to the class, his concern evident despite the obvious pain. "Are you all right? Did anyone get stung?"
"No, Professor," the students responded in unison, shaking their heads.
"That's good," he sighed in relief, using his wand to fix the damaged podium. "Now, let's continue with the lesson. But... except for the one in first place, put your wands away."
The students, though slightly disappointed, followed his command without protest. Having witnessed the professor's anger moments before, none of them dared to test his patience again. The last thing anyone wanted was for that petrification spell to be directed at them.
With that understanding in place, the lesson progressed much more smoothly. Almost everyone succeeded on their next try, and the pace picked up significantly. However, Professor Oren didn't appear any more relaxed—in fact, he seemed even more on edge.
When the class finally ended, Professor Oren left without assigning any homework, walking out of the classroom as fast as he could, not even sparing a backward glance. The lesson had utterly drained him, and he wasn't keen on staying a moment longer than necessary.
Once back in his office, Oren closed the curtains and sank into his chair with a sigh of relief. He took a well-deserved sip of his black tea, savoring the peace at last.
Finally, he thought, it's over. There had been a few close calls, but nothing catastrophic had happened, and all ten Billywigs were—wait.
Oren's eyes widened. Something's not right.
He quickly set down his teacup and counted the cages on his desk. Nine. He counted again, twice. Still nine.
There's one missing!
His eyes darted to one of the cages, which had a fist-sized hole in its side.
"By Merlin's beard..." Oren muttered in disbelief. Panic rising, he hurried back to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, frantically searching for the missing Billywig. But there was no sign of it.
It must've been hit by one of those overexcited students' spells, he realized grimly. His gaze shifted to the open window at the far end of the room.
Oren groaned, rubbing his temples. "Fifty galleons... gone!"
/////
What happened in the Defence Against the Dark Arts class spread like wildfire, but to everyone's surprise, it didn't stir much interest. Normally, a freshman injuring a professor would be the talk of the school for days. For instance, people were still gossiping about the mishap during the first day of Charms class. But when it came to Defence Against the Dark Arts? Not so much.
To put it in perspective: their previous professor had been a dark wizard with powers so well concealed that he was only discovered and taken away by Aurors during a lesson. The professor before that was obsessed with potions, constantly experimenting with bizarre concoctions. In one infamous class, he presented his latest creation, the All-Knowing Potion, boasting that it could rival the Love Potion and solve all problems with just one sip. And then... there was no "then." He drank it in front of everyone, and he's still lying in St. Mungo's Hospital.
Compared to those incidents, Professor Oren's little mishap barely seemed worth mentioning.
And so, the first weekend at Hogwarts arrived quietly.
Kyle, having enjoyed a lazy morning, slept until nearly 9 o'clock, only to be awakened by Cedric pounding on his door.
"What do you want to wake me up so early for?" Kyle groaned after washing up and flopping onto a sofa in the common room, stretching comfortably.
"Early?" Cedric raised an eyebrow in disbelief, handing him a warm pie fresh from the kitchen. "Lunch will be served soon!"
Kyle took a bite of the pie, savoring the taste of beef, potatoes, and onions. It was delicious. While Kyle ate, Cedric continued, "The Quidditch tryouts start today, and I'm heading over to try out. What about you? Want to come along? We can totally win the Quidditch Cup this year."
"I'll pass," Kyle replied, shaking his head. "First-year students aren't allowed on the school team. It's a rule."
Kyle had abandoned the idea of joining the Quidditch team after flying class the previous day. Since his mother Diana had forbidden him from buying a broom during his first year, he'd be stuck using one of the school's ancient brooms, and that just didn't sit well with him.
The school brooms were terribly outdated, lacking even the most essential functions. For example, the crucial Lifting Charm, which was engraved on broom handles after the 1930 Quidditch World Cup final—a match that lasted seven days. Following that ordeal, eleven players were forced into early retirement for the same reason. The addition of the Lifting Charm became a necessity after that, but the school's brooms clearly predated 1930.
Riding those old brooms occasionally was fine, but relying on them long-term? That could seriously affect the physical and mental well-being of young wizards. Kyle simply couldn't accept that. As for Cedric...
Kyle patted Cedric on the shoulder and said seriously, "If you make the team, I suggest you save up for a new broom."
Cedric nodded. "Yeah, the school brooms are way too slow. But if I make the team, my dad could probably get me a Cleansweep."
"That should work," Kyle agreed.
The Cleansweep VII was about a decade old, but it had all the necessary features and was still a solid choice for the school team.
"Oh, by the way," Cedric added, pulling out two maps, "I've finished the Gryffindor and Slytherin maps. What's our next step? Should we advertise ourselves, or look for partners?"
"Let's find partners," Kyle said after thinking for a moment. "If we advertise ourselves, it'll take too long and won't be efficient."
"That's what I was thinking," Cedric nodded. "We could ask the Weasley twins from Gryffindor for help. They'd probably be up for it. But what about Slytherin? Do you know anyone there?"
Kyle shook his head. Coincidentally, Slytherin was the house he knew the least about, and he'd had very few interactions with any of its students.
"That's a problem," Cedric sighed. "I don't know anyone either."
Having recently earned his first bit of gold, Cedric was in an excellent mood and didn't want to lose Slytherin as a potential market. He had even gone out of his way to make the Slytherin map extra special, using high-quality parchment and adding a gold border to appeal to their taste. Naturally, the price for this map would be a little higher—quality came at a cost, after all.
The only issue now was how to sell them. If they relied solely on themselves, two Hufflepuffs, it was unlikely they'd make many sales in Slytherin. Worse yet, if Snape found out about their little business venture, he would likely confiscate the maps and deduct points from Hufflepuff.
After thinking it over, they concluded they'd need a middleman.
They discussed the matter for a while but didn't come up with a solid solution. Cedric suggested asking the Weasley twins if they knew anyone in Slytherin. Kyle was skeptical, but since they didn't have any better ideas, it was worth a shot.
When it was close to ten o'clock, the two left the Hufflepuff common room together. Cedric headed off to the Quidditch Pitch for the tryouts, while Kyle made his way to the library to return a book. He had finished reading The Troubadour in the Wind the night before and was planning to borrow something new.
As they parted near the Great Hall, Kyle smiled and said, "Good luck with the Quidditch tryouts. Hope you make the team."
"Don't worry!" Cedric replied with confidence, flashing a thumbs-up. "I've got this."
And with that, they went their separate ways.
In the library, Madam Pince carefully inspected the book Kyle returned, ensuring it was in pristine condition before handing him the new one he had requested.
"The usual rules apply—you know them," she said in her strict, no-nonsense tone.
"Of course, no damaging the books," Kyle replied with a chuckle. "I know."
"Good," she responded, satisfied.
After receiving the book, A Detailed Explanation of Magical Plants in Asia, Kyle decided not to head straight back to the dormitory. Instead, he found a quiet spot in the library to read. The book, focused on herbal medicine, was a detailed reference on various magical plants native to Asia. Kyle scanned the pages quickly, searching for something specific.
Soon, he found what he was looking for: "Chinese Chomping Cabbage, an extremely dangerous and aggressive plant, was first discovered…"
He pulled out a piece of parchment and, using the Doubling Charm, neatly copied down the relevant information. Satisfied with his notes, Kyle packed up his things and left the library.
However, rather than returning the book immediately, Kyle decided to hold onto it for a little while longer. He figured it might come in handy again, especially if Professor Sprout introduced any new plant species in class. It would be a hassle to have to borrow the book again later.
/////
Cedric's performance at the Quidditch tryouts had been outstanding. He managed to catch the Golden Snitch in just five minutes, securing his position as the new Seeker for Hufflepuff. After that, his entire afternoon was spent on the Quidditch Pitch, as he joined his first training session with the team. Kyle only had a brief moment to catch up with him during lunch.
"Fred and George don't know anyone from Slytherin either, but they said they'd help think of something," Cedric said through a mouthful of steak. "We're going to talk it over this afternoon. Want to come?"
"I—" Kyle began to reply, but before he could say anything, a commanding voice echoed from the far end of the Hufflepuff table.
"Hurry up, Cedric, we need to start training!"
"Yes, Captain!" Cedric called back.
In a rush, Cedric struggled to swallow his mouthful of steak, then quickly gulped down a large glass of pumpkin juice. He turned to Kyle with a grin. "I'll head off to train first. This year's Quidditch Cup is definitely going to Hufflepuff!"
And with that, Cedric sprinted off toward the Quidditch Pitch, clearly excited for the training session ahead.
"Hmph..." Kyle shrugged, not feeling particularly envious. What's so special about being on the school team? he thought. Not only did they have to train on weekends, but they couldn't even enjoy a proper meal. Meanwhile, Kyle had plenty of time to savor his lunch in peace.
Knocking on the table, Kyle ordered himself a glass of lemonade to cleanse his palate and enjoyed the rest of his meal at his own pace.
Later that afternoon, Kyle left the castle, carrying the parchment he had copied from the library. Growing Chomping Cabbage turned out to be much more complicated than he had initially imagined. The plant was notoriously picky about its environment and climate, and only a few skilled Herbology masters had ever managed to successfully transplant it outside its native habitat.
Fortunately, the Room of Requirement could solve most of these issues. Kyle's only real challenge now was dealing with the fertilizer.
According to A Detailed Explanation of Magical Plants in Asia, Chomping Cabbage took fifty days to germinate in the wild and required two to three years to reach maturity. Kyle didn't have that kind of patience, so his plan was to speed up the growth of the seeds.
After leaving the castle, Kyle walked across the meadow and made his way to a small wooden cabin near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The cabin looked weathered, its roof and walls a patchwork of different shades of brown, evidence of many repairs over the years. A crossbow and a pair of large rubber boots hung by the door.
Kyle stepped up to the door and knocked.
"Who is it... Oh, Silly Hagrid, stand back, you'll scare the others," came a familiar voice, followed by a low growl. The wooden door creaked open just a crack, revealing Hagrid's bearded face.
"Little wizard? What're you doing here?" Hagrid asked with a stern expression. "First-year students aren't allowed near the Forbidden Forest. Go on, back to the castle with you."
He was about to close the door when Kyle quickly spoke up.
"Hagrid, it's me. Remember? We met before."
"Huh?" Hagrid paused and squinted at Kyle, taking a closer look. As he studied the boy, his expression softened. The more he looked, the more familiar Kyle seemed to him.
"I remember!" Hagrid suddenly exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "You're that little troublemaker from the Chopper family. Thanks to you, Saban doesn't even recognize its own name anymore."
"That's because it doesn't like it, Hagrid," Kyle replied seriously. "You really should ask owls for their opinion when naming them."
"I... well, I can't argue with that," Hagrid admitted, looking a little flustered. Then, in a more hurried tone, he asked, "So, what brings you here?"
Instead of answering directly, Kyle glanced around and asked, "Can we talk inside?"
"No!" Hagrid quickly replied, growing even more nervous as he leaned against the door. "I mean... it's just that my place is a bit of a mess right now. And, well, Fang doesn't like strangers. I'm afraid he might scare you."
"Oh? Who's Fang?" Kyle asked, intrigued.
"He's my hunting dog," Hagrid explained. "Bigger than you are. Really tall, you know."
Kyle raised his eyebrows, then shrugged. "Okay, forget it. I just wanted to ask if there are any Mooncalves in the Forbidden Forest."
Hearing the mention of the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid's expression shifted to one of alarm. "First-years are absolutely not allowed in the Forbidden Forest! It's dangerous in there, and if I catch you sneakin' in, I'll have to tell Professor Sprout!"
"Relax, Hagrid," Kyle said calmly. "I'm not planning to go into the Forbidden Forest. That's why I came to ask you instead."
"Really?" Hagrid still seemed skeptical.
"Of course. I just planted a couple of new magical plants and need some fertilizer for them," Kyle explained.
"Ahh, that's why you're asking about Mooncalves," Hagrid said, visibly relaxing. He squeezed his large frame through the doorway and quickly shut the door behind him.
Hagrid led Kyle over to his pumpkin patch, where he picked up a metal bucket from the corner. "Here, help yourself," he said, offering the bucket full of Mooncalf droppings—silver, ping-pong-ball-sized spheres. There were probably two or three hundred of them inside.
Kyle, however, frowned as he inspected them. The color was off—they were too dark, indicating they were at least a month old.
"Do you have any fresh ones?" Kyle asked.
Hagrid hesitated for a moment, then said, "I'm not sure, but we can check. Come with me."
They walked along the edge of the Forbidden Forest for a short while before Hagrid stopped and told Kyle to wait while he ventured inside alone. Kyle agreed but silently memorized the route and surroundings, just in case.
Since Mooncalves weren't particularly dangerous and didn't live deep in the forest, Hagrid returned within ten minutes, holding a small bag.
"Here you go," Hagrid said, handing Kyle the bag. "Since Mooncalves usually stomp their droppings into the ground at sunrise, this is all I could gather. If you need more, you should send me an owl next time, and I'll collect them for you."
Kyle weighed the bag in his hands—it held about seven or eight fresh droppings. It wasn't much, but it would suffice.
"Thank you, Hagrid," Kyle said, smiling.
"Don't mention it," Hagrid replied, scratching his head a little sheepishly. "Just... try not to go renaming any more owls."
"That was just an accident."
When they arrived back at Hagrid's cabin, Kyle once again casually suggested they go inside, but Hagrid quickly blocked the door.
"There's really nothing to see in there, Kyle," Hagrid insisted, his eyes darting nervously. "You'd best head back to the castle."
Kyle glanced at him and nearly laughed. Hagrid's poor attempt at deception made it obvious something was going on inside the cabin.
"Alright, I'll head back then," Kyle said, turning to leave. As he walked away, he called over his shoulder, "By the way, Hagrid, just a friendly reminder... you really shouldn't keep a Three-Headed Dog inside a house."