Bemused by the commotion from the Gryffindor table, Self craned his head and looked for the eye of the storm. Once again, the attention was focused around Potter, which was to be expected. He turned back to the group.

"Potter's got a broom," he remarked casually. The responses to this were quite varied. Neil shrugged and went back to eating his bacon, Eric looked up from attempting to enchant the cutlery and looked at Self as if he were mad, Justin muttered something along the lines of how brooms should be used to clean floors and as for Ernie and Zacharias...

"What do you mean, he has a broom?" Ernie demanded. "He's a first year, first years aren't allowed them! It's not fair!" Zacharias stood on the table and announced that the broom was a devious plan by disgruntled house-elves, who would strike out at their oppressors by removing their heroes one at a time. He was ignored. Self sighed and pulled Zach off the table. Having Zach stand on the table announcing the plans of the anarchist house-elves was becoming a morning ritual, much like brushing your teeth and having a shower. Except for Potter, who evidently believed that showers were for the weak, and had not had one since the beginning of the year, and maybe not even then either. He thought that people stepped away from him because of his defeating of Voldemort as a toddler. Showed what he knew.

"So he has a broom," Self continued. "Big deal. He's just a jock and we all know what jocks are like." The group nodded in unison. They did all know what jocks were like. Generally they were brash, unwittingly abrasive and offensive, the favourites of authority figures and always disrupted the carefully crafted plans of people such as the Hufflepuffs. It was offensive in every possible way and the jocks would be first against the wall when the revolution comes. It would be a joyous day when the Hufflepuffs ruled the world.

"Ten points from Hufflepuff for behaviour ill-suited for a student, Mister Smith," Professor Snape commented from the high table. This too, was a morning ritual since Zach had joined the first years, as was their instinctive response.

"Authority figures," they commented in tones of disgust, shuddering as they did so. Authority figures were to be despised and feared for two reasons; they believed that they were always right, and they had the ability to punish you if they thought you were wrong. Professor Sprout was tolerated because of her experience in terrorism. The first years would often hear the story of how she, as a fourth year, destroyed Hogsmeade on a drunken whim because she was bored. It was a brilliantly executed plan, the fact that she was almost in an alcoholic coma notwithstanding. Self resolved to be as experienced as Professor Sprout when he and his house finished blowing up Hogwarts.

*

Charms was especially boring that day. Professor Flitwick had announced that they would be learning how to levitate a feather "with the exception of Mister Chant, as he has destroyed enough classrooms this year." Eric looked particularly dejected over the last comment and Neil, who was his lab partner, felt the need to comfort him.

"He's actually been doing really well lately," Neil commented loudly and Eric beamed. Self nodded in agreement. Eric had only destroyed one classroom that month, a pitiful result when Ernie's track record for Potions was considered. It was truly a remarkable feat, to actually be banned from Potions for the rest of your natural life, and to have achieved it in your first year was seen as a sign of great things. Generally these great things involved great big explosions, but as Ernie was a Hufflepuff, that was to be expected.

The actual exercise was simple and boring. The feather floated in the air. Big deal. The spell was much more exciting when Eric did it, and with this in mind, Self leaned across and suggested it to Neil.

Neil grinned and whispered it to Eric, who nodded in resolve. Eric moved his hand. The feather exploded. Then another. It was a pyrotechnic chain reaction and Self settled back to watch the fireworks. Literally.

The display was forestalled by Professor Flitwick casting a multitude of extinguishing charms on the flames. The Hufflepuffs pouted. It wasn't fair that he spoiled their fun like that. The Ravenclaws looked at them with disdain and cast their charms flawlessly, smirking as their Head of House rained points on them.

It was time for revenge.

*

"Troll – in the dungeon – thought you ought to know," Professor Quirrell gasped, fetching up on the head table. The Hufflepuffs hid their grins. Everything was going exactly to plan. They had lured a troll up to the ground entrance of Hogwarts, had let slip to the Slytherins that there was a dark arts artefact down there, and proceeded to watch the chaos.

And chaotic it was. The Slytherins were directed to the dungeons (which amused the Hufflepuffs greatly, for that was where the troll was), the Ravenclaws were directed to the library (which was either a mistake or a subtle jab at their obsession with books) the Gryffindor were sent as far away from the troll as possible and everyone ignored the Hufflepuffs. A desirable outcome indeed. Now, things would be perfect if…

"Professors! To the dungeon!" Dumbledore commanded. The Hufflepuffs cheered. Flitwick was going to get it. Maybe next time he'll think before destroying their handiwork. To make matters better, Weasley and Potter were heading down to the dungeon where hopefully they would be killed. It would be a glorious day in Hufflepuff history.

"Quick, pretend we're moronic," Renee hissed and the first years put on their patented gormless expressions and wandered aimlessly around the castle. Every time someone stopped them, they asked stupid things like "What is the velocity of a laden African swallow?" People left them alone after a while and they made their way to the Hufflepuff common room unwatched.

Once there, Professor Sprout quickly ushered them inside and turned on the projector. The Hufflepuffs made suitable noises of admiration and awe. The display was crystal clear, obviously digital. They could see the individual veins on the troll, it was that good.

Unfortunately Granger was not dead yet, but there was still hope. She hadn't done the rash bravery thing that Gryffindors were wont to do, but that would come, given time. The Hufflepuffs cheered the troll on, especially when it loomed menacingly over Granger - that was a work of genius. Good work should be rewarded after all.

The cheers turned to boos as Potter and Weasley appeared on screen and began to beat up their troll. It was horrible – they should have been reported for torturing a poor innocent creature. Certainly not rewarded for it by their head of house. The unholy trio were now slated for death. No one interferes with the plans of a Hufflepuff. No one.

*

Dear Father,

Hogwarts is great, have learnt all sorts of techniques that we can use during the holidays.

However, we have been wronged by a certain three students and request your assistance. It appears that one of their acquaintances; a Rubeus Hagrid is fascinated by mythical creatures, in particular, dragons. I know that Finnegan is particularly talented in the fashioning of electronic beasts, so would it be possible for one to be made? With all the usual outfitting of course.

Your devoted son

Selfinsertion

Self smiled evilly as he tied the letter to the leg of an owl and threw it out the window (after a series of experiments, Self discovered they go faster that way, probably to get away from their attacker).

The next stage of the plan was underway.

Authors Note:

This chapter actually involved research! Okay, it was one news paper article, but it deserves to be included.   You will visit it, and learn the reason why Harry is smelly.