Ron Weasley has always felt overshadowed and inadequate.
Ron supposes he shouldn't be surprised. Growing up in their shadows, he's always known that he isn't-and could never be-as calm and responsible as Head Boy Bill, or cool and strong as Quidditch Captain Charlie, or even smart as stuck-up Percy, or as funny and popular as Fred and George.
Even though he's always known he could never match up to them all, some part of him has alwayshoped anyway.
He should've known better.
Before he can even begin to try to live up to his brothers, before he even gets the chance to make his secret dream of twin Quidditch Captain and Head Boy pins on scarlet robes, all his hopes are dashed by the sound of the Sorting Hat's scream.
HUFFLEPUFF!
For a long moment after the hat is lifted off his head, Ron can only stand gaping like an idiot, utter disbelief etched onto his face. He would have sworn it was another sick joke by the twins, but the shocked expressions on their faces kill the thought as soon as he appears.
It's… real? He thinks dumbly, unable to quite accept it.
Professor McGonagall has no such problem, calling his name pointedly, as she points him towards the Hufflepuff table. The rest of the students are laughing at him now, and he feels a pang of embarrassment at the attention, but it all pales in comparison to the horror of what has just happened to him.
When he finally walks over to the Hufflepuff table, it's with the resigned drag of a man headed for the Dementor's Kiss. It feels like the end of all his hopes and dreams, despite the cheering coming from the badger house.
His new housemates are not oblivious to his mood, as the older ones look on in worry, but no one says anything yet, as the last few Sortings happen, before the feast formally begins.
Ron is barely aware of any of it, and even the food magically appearing on the table isn't enough to pull him out his funk. Mechanically, he starts shovelling it to his plate, and then into his mouth. The food is good, at least, he concludes.
It's definitely a real feast, he thinks, and though his mother's cooking is good, this is even better (mostly because he isn't sick of it, and it isn't made of cheap ingredients).
But no matter how good it tastes, it all settles in his stomach like a stone.
Hufflepuff, he thinks again, despairingly, and tries to ignore the weight of the gazes of his shocked brothers on him through the length of the Great Hall.
-o-
After the feast, and a truly chaotic rendition of the school song, they all separate into various groups divided by houses as they all head to the dorms to sleep. Ron and the rest of the Hufflepuff first years are led down, instead of up, like the Gryffindors he can glimpse. There's an unruly mop of dark hair that he recognizes to be Harry Potter. He feels a pang of wistfulness as he watches them go, wishing he could go with them.
Instead, he tries not to trip, as he follows along with the rest of the badgers down a long hallway. It only takes them a few minutes to arrive at their destination, which seems to be.. the kitchens? Are they having more dessert or something?
Ron blinks confusedly, as they're led to a little nook on the right side of the corridors, where they stop before a bunch of barrels. The redhead has no idea what they're waiting for until the prefect announces that they've arrived at the Hufflepuff common room.
So it's next to the kitchens then, which is something, he supposes. His stomach appreciates the thought, anyway. He hadn't been able to eat as much as he'd really wanted thanks to his mood after his Sorting. Maybe he can sneak out for a midnight snack later?
Before that though, he has to get in first.
He's heard from his brothers about needing a password to enter the Gryffindor common room, but the badgers don't have a password to enter. Instead, they had to tap the barrels in a weird rhythm. Ron tries to remember the order properly, but it's hard when he's tired and frustrated like this, brain unwilling to cooperate with him.
"Be careful to do it properly," the prefect, who'd introduced himself as Gabriel Truman earlier, warns them all, as he continues, "because if the wrong lid is tapped or the wrong rhythm is used, you'll be treated like an intruder and doused in vinegar."
This causes a murmur of worried gasps and complaints to break out amongst the first years, including Ron who moans aloud, once again wishing he'd just been Sorted into Gryffindor instead.
"Now, now, don't worry, kiddies." Gabriel calls out over the noise, grinning widely as he explains. "We prefects will be making sure to hang around the entrance for the first week or two to make sure no one gets it wrong."
That prompts a sigh of relief from most of the crowd, and though Ron can't help but bristle a little at being treated like a kid, he supposes it's better than being covered in vinegar all the time.
"Now, let's head inside, shall we?" With those words, the older boy, taps the barrels in proper order, two from the bottom, middle of the second row-all in the rhythm of 'Helga Hufflepuff', supposedly, somehow-which makes the lid swing right open, exposing a passageway for them all.
It's a little small, especially for the taller prefect, who nonetheless crawls inside with ease. The first years follow, most only needing to crouch a little to pass. Once they're through, the actual basement is revealed to be rather large, though still rather low-ceilinged.
As expected, there are lots of yellow hangings, burnished copper, and overstuffed sofas and armchairs upholstered in the signature yellow and black. Though he still wishes for red and gold, even he has to admit, it's all very warm and cozy, not too bad at all.
There is also a large, honey coloured, wooden mantelpiece with carvings of badgers on it. Definitely not as cool as lions, he thinks, a little disparagingly. Atop it, there's a large portrait of a round, plump woman with red hair and blue eyes. She breaks into a wide smile as soon as she spots the first years. "Welcome to Hufflepuff, my dears!"
Quite a few of his fellow students seem stunned to be addressed by a painting. Ron isn't as surprised, having grown up with magic, after all, but it's still a little awkward. Gabriel grins at their reactions, saying proudly, "Unlike the other Houses, we are blessed with the presence of our founder in our very own common room."
"Do feel free to come to me with any questions you might have." Helga Hufflepuff adds warmly. "There's only so much to do when one is a portrait anyhow, after all."
"Yup! We're lucky, us Puffs." Their prefect proclaims with a nod in the painting's direction, before announcing, "But any questions are going to have to be saved for tomorrow! Now, you all need to head to bed."
He leads them all to the side, where there seem to be lots of little underground tunnels, with perfectly circular doors, leading off into different rooms. "First year boys are one this side, while girls are on the other." He stops at one door and points off another. "You can all go inside now, boys. Your trunks are by your beds."
Ron enters with the rest of his new dormmates. Inside, there are four-poster beds are covered in patchwork quilts. The dormitories are illuminated by warm copper lamps, and copper bed-warmers hang on the wall too. The redhead spots his beat-up trunk next to the bed by the window and heads for it. He should probably brush his teeth or change his clothes or something, but he's way too tired to do any of it.
His vague plans to get a midnight snack fade into the wayside as he finds his eyes closing on his own accord. The warmth and comfort of the Hufflepuff rooms make it easy to fall asleep, despite the lingering unease in his heart.