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mariesdeluluworld · 2 years

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𝙈𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙞𝙖 |𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙤𝙮 𝙭 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧|𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙏𝙚𝙣: 𝙒𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙃𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙡𝙚𝙥𝙪𝙛𝙛 𝙃𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙚

The hall was silent; everyone stared for a brief moment until Professor McGonagall started clapping. Slowly, the other professors at the high table on the raised dais joined in. Y/n didn’t know what to do. He was frozen—at a standstill. While the table under the yellow banner with a badger applauded and cheered with smiles, he never felt so unwelcome.

Y/n didn’t notice that the stern professor had removed the old raggedy hat until she urged him off the rickety chair. He didn’t notice his legs moving on their own. Poor Y/n couldn’t hear anything. It was all muffled. As if someone was cupping his ears, shutting him out from the world into a plain of silence. His e/c eyes were glued on Harry. His twin was staring at him with a pained expression. Of course he was sad, thought Y/n bitterly. Why didn’t that talking hat put me in Gryffindor?

Ever so slowly, Y/n started moving towards the table of his new house. Eyes from the Gryffindor table watched his movements as he slunked towards the long rectangular table. Behind him, Professor McGonagall continued to call out names for each new student to be sorted. Once he reached the table, many eyes and faces greeted him with smiles. They were happy; he realised. Happy to have snatched one of the Potters. Though they did not boast about it like Harry’s house, you could see the joy each one had.

Before Y/n could sit down, a tall boy with black wavy hair and sky-blue eyes stood up, drawing attention temporarily from Y/n but in the end winded back to being on the young Potter. The boy stopped in front of Y/n and he watched with a terrified expression on his face.

“‘Ello Potter! The name’s Oliver Benedict, and I’m the seventh year Prefect of Hufflepuff House. If you need anything at all, please come straight towards me. And welcome to Hufflepuff.” Y/n watched in silence as he smiled and gestured to the table behind him. The tall creature smiled too much, which made shivers climb up his spine. Y/n wanted to say hello or nice to meet you, or possibly anything. But alas, all he said was: “Um… w-where d-do I-sit at?” His e/c eyes wandered over the table, trying to figure out where he was supposed to go. He knew from primary school that each table had a group. And he was able to figure out which group was friendly and which one was not. However, there were no multiple tables for Hufflepuff. Just one long rectangular table that had a handful of students.

“Oh, right!” Oliver cleared his throat and pointed to a small group at the end of the table. “You can sit there with the other first years, or—” He pointed to the front. “You sit with us, seventh and sixth years.”

Y/n pointed to the rest of the first years. “I think I’ll sit with them; the other first years.” He said shyly. His eyes flickered down to his hands as he fiddled with the black robes of his uniform.

“Of course, of course.” Oliver chuckled. “Remember now, if you need anything—and I mean anything at all, please come to me and I shall be glad to help you.” With one last friendly smile, Oliver went back to his original seat before Y/n sluggishly walked up to the group of first years.

He quickly took a seat next to a girl with auburn hair. The girl turned her head to look at him. Her eyes were crystal blue, and she took in Y/n. He smiled, awkwardly. She returned the sentiment and tucked a copper strand of hair behind her ear.

“Hullo, I’m Rosemary.” She had a bit of an Irish accent, but it wasn’t so prominent. Rosemary held out her hand. “And you are??”

Y/n took her hand in his.

“I’m—”

“That Y/n Potter, that is!” exclaimed a boy with blond hair. He was leaning across the table, staring at Y/n closely. His brown eyes were glued to his scar, making Y/n want to cover it up with his hair.

“If you don’t know who he is, you must be daft!”

Rosemary glared at the boy. “And you must be rude to interrupt our conversation, y’know!” She spat venomously.

The boy next to the rude one simply stared at Y/n.

“I don’t know who you are.” He said quietly. “I’m Justin Finch-Fletchy.” He held his hand out. Y/n took it. “I’m Y/n Potter.”

“How is it you don’t know who he is, Justin??” cried out the blond. “You muggle-born or somethin’?” Justin blushed, his cheeks were the colour of beets.

“Yes. I-I am. Do you have a problem with that?” Justin’s voice quivered slightly.

“No! ‘Course not! Just cause I’m a pureblood doesn’t mean I believe all that rubbish!”

Rosemary rolled her eyes.

“Anyway, I’m Ernie. Ernie Macmallin. Nice to meet you, Justin. Potter.” Ernie purposefully left out Rosemary to goad her, and she knew it too. Glaring at the blond pimple, she scoffed before introducing herself to Justin.

Y/n watched as Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the sorting hat after a boy named “Zabini” was the last one to be sorted. Soon the hall grew quiet around Y/n as the man sitting at the high table on the raised dais stood up, raising his hands to draw everyone’s attention.

“Welcome new and returning students!” His voice was soft yet strong at the same time, plus his long white beard reminded Y/n of Father Time. He, like the rest of wizards and witches apparently, wore bright purple robes with blue and burgundy embellishments and embroidery in the fabric. On his head seemed to be an overly large nightcap. “Before we start feasting, I would like to say a few words: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!”

Laughter boomed through the hall, and Y/n looked around the hall as he said those odd words. His brows were furrowed, confusion laced in his eyes. Was he supposed to laugh? If so, those words weren’t funny. In fact, they were rather strange. Strange word choice. He didn’t like the way the old wizard’s eyes twinkled. It made him shudder.

“He’s a bit loony, huh?” questioned Rosemary. “My mum thinks so,” whispered a girl with blonde pig-tails. “Dumbledore, loony? Reckon you’re loony if you think the best wizard in the world is loony himself!” claimed Ernie.

“Thank you, and have a wonderful feast!” He raised a hand and suddenly, dishes appeared. A plate and silverware and goblet materialised in front of him, making Y/n gasp and stare wide-eyed.

“Whoa,” he whispered. Food started being passed around and lively chatter filled the hall. Soon, food was piled on his plate, drawing some looks from other Hufflepuffs—though Y/n did not care. He was busy eating. He never, in his entire eleven-years of life, has ever seen this much food that he could eat! Harry would be lucky to see him tomorrow and not nursing a food-coma.

As he shovelled food into his mouth, Y/n missed the glances he received from others. A few Ravenclaws whispered behind their hands, a few Hufflepuffs elbowed each other and pointed, while some Slytherins watched on. Gryffindor house was the only ones that did not notice, for they were too busy being occupied by their new member.

“Y/n, would you like some potatoes?” He looked up and nodded. “Thanks, Rosemary,” she smiled in return. “No problem,” She brushed her red locks behind her ear.

“So, Potter, did you and your brother really kill You-Know-Who?” The table became silent. The only ones who spoke were the 7th and 6th years who were far down and didn’t hear. Y/n froze and hesitantly looked up from his plate. His housemates were either staring at him, waiting for his answer, or they were sending glares at Macmillian—Rosemary was in the latter, her fists clenched—and a tense silence was cast on the table.

Before Y/n could give his answer, someone interrupted him.

“Oh, shut your trap Macmillian, ye old geezer!” snapped a voice full of a Scottish burr. “The next time a hear any incentive thing comin’ outta yer mouth, a’ll kick yer arse maself!” A tall and muscular girl gripped the rude blond boy by the ear, yanking on him as her eyes, full of fury, was directed on him. “Shame on you for bein’ an old cocker!” Giggles and snorts were heard all around Y/n, as his new housemates laughed at Macmillian.

“Mary!! Put me down!!” he whined. The giant of a woman sneered and Y/n realised then that somewhere in between her telling him off, she picked Macmillian up by his robes and held him close to her face, a few feet off the ground. The giant—Mary—plopped the scrambling boy down onto the bench and gave him one last glare, before she turned her fiery amber gaze onto Y/n.

“Am Mary Fraiser, this little twat,” she nudged Macmillian. “--is ma cousin! He’s a shite, ignore ‘im,” Fraiser reached over and held out her hand. Y/n took it gingerly before being yanked a bit as she gripped it and shook. “Nice ta meet you!”

The Y/n gave her a friendly smile, hoping that she’ll stop shaking his bones with her strength. “I’m Y/n Potter. Nice to meet you as well.”

The brawley girl barked out a laugh. “Aye we know ye, Potter.” She chuckled before giving Macmillan one last glare before she went to sit further down at the table.

The rest of the meal, Macmillan ignored Y/n, only talking—more like yelling—with Justin about the wizard sport, Quidditch. It looked like Justin didn’t get it, but nodded along for Macmillan’s sake.

As Y/n reached for a jug full of pumpkin juice, an arm went straight through the jug, making the Potter boy scream and jerk back. His eyes blown wide, he watched as a fat man wearing a grey frock with a rope tied at the waist flew through the table, moaning as he gazed at the juice longingly.

“Oh phooey,” he sighed. “I forgot,”

A few older Hufflepuffs looked on at the ghost with pity.

“Y-Y-ou’re the Fat Friar,” Y/n said, his eyes watching the ghost with a strange fascination. The ghost turned to look at him, a smile on his face.

“Indeed, I am Mister Potter! Oh! I heard you were able to be sorted into my old House!! Oh, dear, I hope you’ll enjoy it. We have a celebrity! I cannot wait to rub it in Old Baron's face! Ha!” The Friar flew off towards the Slytherin table. Y/n turned his head to watch. He noticed how the ghost called the Bloody Baron was sitting next to the blond-haired boy—Draco Malfoy. Shaking his head, Y/n went back to his food.

“What class are you excited for most, Potter?” asked Rosemary, her blue eyes full of curiosity. Before he could answer her, Rosemary interrupted. “I’m very excited for Herbology! My mum is a herbalist, it’s what drew my dad to her, y’know!”

“I really like Charms, but also I’m very excited about Potions.”

Someone chuckled. “I thought so too until I knew who was to be our Professor.” Y/n turned his head to look at the voice. He had short black hair and brown slender eyes and a round face. He looked nervous, yet confident at the same time.

“Snape, that fellow right there,” He pointed to the raised dais where the high table was, and pointed at a man with a hooked nose, shoulder-length black hair and black eyes that were staring at his brother, Harry.

“He’s a nasty bloke I’ll tell ya,” Y/n watched as “Snape” nodded his head as the professor from Diagon Alley, Professor Quirill, spoke with the black-haired professor.

“He hates anyone that isn't in his house. It makes Potions dreadful. He’s always hovering and when you make a simple mistake, he takes away so many house points and calls you names.” Y/n and Rosemary gasped.

“How cruel!”

“Can he do that?”

Cried Y/n and Rosemary at the same time, their eyes wide with shock and fury.

“No one stops him, not even Dumbledore. Tcch.” The boy crossed his arms, his eyes rolling. Realising that he didn't introduce himself, he sighed and offered his hand. “Nakamura Hiroshi, second year.”

“Y/n Potter,” He gripped Nakamura’s hand. “Rosemary Thorn, nice to meet you,” she smiled and shook his hand.

“Nice to meet you both,” Nakamura nodded his head in greeting. “Welcome to Hufflepuff House,”

The Hall fell silent after dessert as Professor Dumbledore stood up from his chair.

“Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.” A few Hufflepuff’s rolled their eyes. “First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.”

“I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.” Rosemary leaned over to whisper to an older Hufflepuff.

“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.” Madam Hooch stood up from the High table. “And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.” Only a few people laughed, Harry being one of them, along with Justin, who looked around at the worried eyes of their new housemates looking grim.

“He’s… he’s not joking?” asked Justin, his voice wavering. “Nah, he ain’t. A jus’ wanna know wat it is,'' spoke Mary a few seats down.

“Usually Dumbledore gives us a reason,” murmured another student.

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” cried Dumbledore. Y/n noticed that the other teachers’ smiles had become rather fixed. Oh, no. Nakamura and Mary firmly placed their hands over their ears. Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

“Everyone please your their favorite tune,” said Dumbledore, “and off we go!”

And the school bellowed:

“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they’re bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we’ve forgot,

just do your best, we’ll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot.”

The noise was painful. Y/n had placed his hands over his ears when it first started. “Ah, music,” he said, wiping his eyes. Rosemary whispered to Y/n. “Was that really music?” He chuckled, smirking at the auburn-haired girl. “A magic beyond all we do here!”

“And now, bedtime. Off you trot!” Prefects, Oliver and a girl with short blue hair and green eyes, stood up with a bunch of other students from the three other tables, calling out: “First year Ravenclaws, follow us,” “First year Slytherins, follow us,” “First year Gryffindors, with me.”

Y/n watched with sad eyes as he and Harry were split from each other, one wearing red and gold and the other yellow and black.

Oliver and the witch led Harry and his fellow first years through the corridors of Hogwarts. Y/n watched as the other students, red and gold, blue and bronze, climbed the grand and moving staircase—thanks to Hogwarts: A History—that Y/n couldn’t wait to explore. While he and the rest of the first years followed their Prefects. Rosemary stuck close by him, pointing to the portraits that lined the cobblestone walls.

“Our common room is in the basement?” whispered Justin. Macmillan nodded.

“Yeah, it’s near the kitchens,” a smirk formed on his face.

They climbed down the non-moving staircase and they felt a slight chill in the air. Rosemary stuck close by Y/n, pointing to the fruit themed portraits that lined the cobblestone walls. They passed a portrait of a bowl of fruit—that reminded Y/n of the bowl of fruit that muggle art teachers would have their students paint or draw—and Y/n could hear a slight commotion happening behind the portrait. Frowning, he looked at Rosemary, seeing if she had any clue as to what it was. Her face was marred in confusion. So she didn’t know what it was then, mused Y/n.

“If you need a map of Hogwarts, please let us know, myself and Oliver shall provide you with one.” Commented the female perfect, a friendly smile on her face.

The group stopped together at a nook, hidden by… barrels? Y/n looked at it in confusion.

“Unlike the other houses where they need a password or need to answer a riddle, for us, we need to tap on these barrels to a rhythm, our House Founder’s song’s rhythm. We will teach you the rhythm tomorrow after your classes. So until then, stick together in a group and we’ll assign an older student to let you in and out of the common room.” Oliver smiled at the first years. “Now, Ethel, will you do the honours?” Ethel—the other prefect—nodded her head. She approached the barrels and tapped two from the bottom, and two in the middle row, and one in the top row. A soft melody played from the barrels, and the door of the nook opened.

Y/n peered into the doorway along with the other first years. The ceiling was low; the room was round and had two small platforms with a staircase leading up to a door. One said Gents, the other Ladies. It must be the dorms, Y/n thought to himself. There was a sense of warmth and welcoming to the room. The smell of vanilla and sunflowers reached Y/n’s nose. It brought a sense of homeliness to the common room. It made him want to cuddle up in a blanket and read one of the books about dragons by the fireplace and drink some hot chocolate with marshmallows. It temporarily made him forget about his dread and his sadness. It made him forget that Harry wasn’t with him. His heart winced at the thought.

“Welcome,” Oliver smiled. “To Hufflepuff House,”

Authors Note:

Happy birthday Harry, Y/n Potter! Hope you enjoyed this weekends chapter! I don't know when the next one will be, hopefully soon, but this Monday I'm starting my last semester at school, so wish me luck! A lot of the characters that'll be showin' up will most likely be OC's, so I'm plannin' on doing an introduction to Hufflepuff house students of Hogwarts soon so you'll get a feel of them when they get older! Thanks for reading! xx

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