One-shots and plot bunnies

The dimly lit greenhouse buzzed with quiet activity. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the sharp tang of magical flora. Amid rows of fluttering Flutterby bushes and gently glowing Fanged Geraniums, two Hufflepuffs stood at the heart of their clandestine operation.

Maxwell "Max" Diggle was a wiry, sharp-eyed fifth-year with a knack for seeing opportunity where others saw dirt. Beside him was Eleanor "Ellie" Wick, a round-faced, perpetually cheerful seventh-year with an encyclopedic knowledge of magical plants and a talent for alchemical experimentation. Together, they were an unlikely pair—two Hufflepuffs who had stumbled into a gold mine.

Well, stumbled might have been too generous.

"Ellie, you've outdone yourself," Max said, holding up a vial of shimmering, pale-green liquid. It swirled lazily under the flickering light of their enchanted lamps. "Liquid Euphoria brewed directly from our own variant of Gillyweed and powdered Mooncalf dung. How'd you even come up with this?"

Ellie grinned, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "You told me to think big. And it's not just for fun—it heightens spell focus too. Exams are coming up. People will pay through the nose for this stuff."

Max whistled low. "You're a genius. How much are we sitting on?"

"Enough to fill three cauldrons. But we'll need to pace the supply. Keep it exclusive, you know? Scarcity drives up value."

Max grinned. "Ellie, you've got the soul of a Slytherin. Good thing I've got the charm of a Gryffindor to balance us out."

It started innocently enough. A failed Herbology project had led to an accidental discovery: a hybrid plant that, when prepared a certain way, produced mild calming effects. Word had spread quickly among the stressed-out student population, and before long, Max and Ellie realized they had a product people wanted.

From there, it snowballed. Ellie's expertise in magical botany meant they could grow and modify plants with effects far beyond anything available on the open market. Max, meanwhile, handled the business side, setting up a network of loyal Hufflepuff couriers to distribute the goods discreetly across the castle.

They called their operation The Golden Badger Syndicate.

Their most lucrative client, surprisingly, was none other than Albus Dumbledore himself.

The headmaster's penchant for Lemon Drops was well known, but what most didn't realize was that his eccentric behavior stemmed from a more... unconventional craving. After a long, grueling staff meeting, Dumbledore had stumbled upon one of Max's experimental powders mixed into a student's abandoned flask of pumpkin juice.

"Mr. Diggle," Dumbledore had said later that week, finding Max alone in the greenhouse. His twinkling eyes had an unusual intensity. "I must say, that herbal concoction of yours has... extraordinary properties. Might I inquire about its origins?"

Max had thought he was doomed. But then Dumbledore had produced a small velvet pouch of galleons.

"Keep up the good work," he'd said with a wink.

From that day on, Dumbledore had become their best customer, occasionally wandering into the Hufflepuff common room under the guise of checking on the students but always leaving with a discreet parcel. Ellie joked that their inventions were the reason for half of his questionable decisions.

"Think about it, Max. First-years in the Forbidden Forest? Letting Lockhart teach? He's been microdosing us into chaos."

Max snorted. "And we're getting rich off it."

Their empire didn't stop at Hogwarts.

Ellie had connections in Diagon Alley through her older brother, a former Gringotts curse-breaker. With his help, they struck a deal with the goblins: magical plants and products for discreet smuggling through the wizarding banking system.

The goblins didn't care where the profits came from. To them, galleons were galleons. With their help, The Golden Badger Syndicate expanded into Hogsmeade and eventually London. By the time Ellie graduated, they had an operation large enough to rival Zonko's or Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes—but far less legal.

It couldn't last forever.

By Harry Potter's fifth year, whispers of their operation had reached the ears of Dolores Umbridge. The new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor sniffed out rule-breaking like a bloodhound, and her obsession with order meant the Syndicate's growing influence was a threat she couldn't ignore.

"Mr. Diggle, Miss Wick," she said one evening, cornering them outside the Great Hall. Her saccharine smile made Max's skin crawl. "I've heard interesting things about your... extracurricular activities. Perhaps we should have a little chat in my office?"

Ellie tensed, but Max just smiled. "Of course, Professor. Anything for the Ministry."

As soon as she turned, they bolted for the nearest secret passage.

"She knows," Ellie hissed as they ducked into the Room of Requirement.

"Doesn't matter," Max said, his mind racing. "We've got backup plans for this. We'll burn the evidence, bribe Filch, and shift the blame onto some Ravenclaws. No offense, but they're sneaky bastards."

Ellie didn't look convinced. "Max, we've pushed our luck too far. Maybe it's time to—"

"Quit?" Max cut her off. "Ellie, do you know how much we've made this month? We could buy our own bloody Quidditch team. We're not walking away from that."

Ellie sighed but didn't argue.

In the end, it wasn't Umbridge who took them down. It was Dobby.

The excitable house-elf had overheard their plans during one of his cleaning rounds and, mistaking their operation for something sinister, reported them to the staff. Dumbledore, to their shock, had no choice but to act.

"You've done remarkable work," he said, meeting them in his office, his tone more disappointed than angry. "But even I cannot allow students to engage in... entrepreneurial endeavors of this nature within these walls."

Max glanced at Ellie, who looked as deflated as he felt.

"So, what happens now?" Max asked.

Dumbledore smiled faintly. "You will cease all operations within Hogwarts immediately. However..." He slid a small pouch of galleons across the desk. "For your efforts thus far, consider this a... retirement package."

Ellie blinked. "Wait, you're not expelling us?"

"Expulsion?" Dumbledore chuckled. "Oh no, my dear. That would draw far too much attention. Let's keep this between us, shall we?"

Max and Ellie disbanded The Golden Badger Syndicate that night. Their fortune was enough to ensure a comfortable life after Hogwarts, but every now and then, Max couldn't help but wonder what could've been.

Still, as he sipped a Firewhisky in their shared flat in Diagon Alley years later, he grinned.

"Ellie," he said, holding up his glass, "here's to Hufflepuffs. Loyal to the end... even if it's to crime."

Ellie laughed. "To crime."