The pecking order, depending on whom you ask, will invariably follow one of three permutations:
Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff—if one asks a Slytherin;
Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff—if one asks a Ravenclaw;
Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Hufflepuff—if one asks a Gryffindor;
and it's common knowledge that one never asks Hufflepuffs anything except to make them cry, for that's all they're good for. House Hufflepuff is for everyone who isn't really anyone. That is to say, it's a collection bin for all those unremarkable beings who had the fortune to gain admittance into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but the misfortune of having no outstanding or even particular talents except that of "loyalty" and being housetrained by the age of eleven. Though there have been doubts on the matter of their housetraining. A Hufflepuff will invariably wet his pants while he is being sorted. One can only imagine the criteria by which the Sorting Hat puts someone in Hufflepuff—terror to the point of urination must be on that list somewhere.
Anyway. Concerning loyalty, particularly the Hufflepuff sort. It has never occurred to anyone to ask what on earth these Huffies are supposed to be loyal to. Hogwarts? The wizarding world? Great Britain? To each other? To Merlin's great nephew's soggy grey underpants? If one is to be characterized as a loyal person, one must be loyal to something, else the designation is meaningless. Without specification, even Slytherins might be considered loyal—to themselves, obviously. Gryffindors are certainly loyal the same way Quidditch teammates are loyal—working towards a sufficiently glorious end as long as glory is given where it's due. Ravenclaws are loyal and devoted to their studies, if one can speak of being loyal to an academic field. There are some who flounce about from one discipline to another, such as Wyndham Winkelby. He claimed that his work on the mystery of viviparous vampires drew on such fields as healing, herbology, astrology, arithmancy, a dash of Druidic runes and a splash of potions but it was all complete rubbish. Ravenclaws were particularly offended by that shoddy piece of scholarship.
But, on the topic of loyalty. If one asks Hufflepuffs what they are supposed to be loyal to, whether they have a secret creed passed down from Helga Hufflepuff herself that might possibly redeem their house in the eyes of the others, they will screw up their faces and start sniffling. Or look as though they had no idea what the word "creed" meant. Even the prefects.
Hufflepuffs, it is well known, are not known for their intelligence. They are rather slow on uptake and as a house, consistently get more Trolls on their OWLs than any other house in Hogwarts. Though it is worth considering that as a house, they score far more Outstandings than any other—quietly eeking them out by sheer hard work and determination rather than talent, charm, or fireworks—and even produce the occasional Exceeds Expectations. And it is also worth considering that no student in Hufflepuff has ever failed out of Hogwarts. It is rare and exceedingly difficult to flunk out of Hogwarts academically—not expelled for snubbing school rules or offending the Board of Governors—and past cases have entailed extraordinary and extenuating circumstances. Nevertheless, it has happened in the past that students were dismissed from school on the grounds of their abysmal academic performance. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin have all had their students bring shame upon their respective houses, but Hufflepuff, surprisingly enough, has not.
But this loyalty business. Who are they meant to be loyal to? This is a conundrum no one has been able to determine, to the point that one suspects if one were to ask Helga Hufflepuff herself she would simply shrug and go back to her garden. Loyalty, indeed.
A Slytherin will retort that loyalty can be bought or otherwise coerced. That's the only sort of loyalty a Serpent is capable of knowing and while they might have a vague knowledge without understanding of the type of loyalty Hufflepuffs offer, they are wary of it. It seems dangerous and stupid, unforgivably so. Slytherins react to things they perceive as stupid rather predictably and somewhat stupidly themselves—they make assumptions that inevitably lead to various miscalculations and sometimes their ultimate downfall. Indeed, this would explain why so many Slytherin pranks against Hufflepuffs are startlingly unsuccessful and backfire more times than the Serpents will care to admit. They think it a waste to use their cunning on a Huffie, and so end up with dung bombs in their hair and boils growing in embarrassingly uncomfortable places.
A Gryffindor will laud this quality of loyalty loudly and proudly, so long as that loyalty is directed to the resident Gryff and whatever crusade or cause they are embarking upon. If that loyalty is not firmly in the hands of the crusader—or worse, if that loyalty belongs to the enemy—then there is no mercy. Gryffindors have a rather red and gold way of looking at things. There is either the gold and ultimate glory of victory and gallantry, or there is red—the blood of friends who must be avenged, the blood of enemies who must be vanquished, and the blood of innocents caught in the crossfire. Dramatic, and telling of the character of the man who founded the house so many centuries ago.
A Ravenclaw will either be sufficiently interested in the question put forward, or not. If they are not, they will go off to the library or the laboratory to expend their energies on more worthwhile efforts. If they are interested, they will embark on a rather mundane research project that seeks to discern the true intentions of the founders—something that has never been ascertained despite the exhaustive amount of scholarly study—then perhaps conduct a series of tear-inducing interviews with the members and alumni of House Hufflepuff, and then finally submit the resulting essay under a pseudonym to Transfiguration Today under the bogus premise that statistically, Hufflepuffs are better at transfiguring mundane objects, despite the fact that nothing in the paper has anything to do with Transfiguration or Hufflepuffs at all. It was simply an opportunity to get published.
In truth, this is how the quality of loyalty is esteemed by the other houses and, needless to say, by the wizarding world at large. And for good reason, because Hufflepuffs—Hufflepuffs are naïve. This is a well known fact. They're easily duped, tricked, pranked, made the butt of jokes and utterly humiliated by the students of the other houses. They're fair game for anyone and at the same time, they're pawns of the various power games that rule the school, particularly between the Gryffs and the Serpents. Gryffindors sometimes, when they feel generous and noble, think it their duty to protect the poor little badgered students. Slytherins sometimes, when they feel like establishing a fiefdom and playing "lord and serfs," take it upon themselves to reserve the exclusive rights to terrorize their peasants. Ravenclaws simply demolish everyone on the classroom and rarely descend from the ivory tower to participate in such juvenile conflicts. In short, Gryffindors think Hufflepuffs are cowards, Ravenclaws think they're stupid, Slytherins think they're powerless.
Yet despite these perceptions, Hufflepuffs pride themselves on being the house of loyalty. Perhaps they, ever slow on uptake, mistook the "l" for an "r" and thought they were the house of Hogwarts royalty. Slytherins, Gryffindors, and Ravenclaws all secretly, or not so secretly as the case may be, believe their house to be superior to all others and go about the place as though they rule the school. Perhaps Hufflepuffs are no different. Although if that were true, we would have to add "deluded beyond the point of mere stupidity" to the list of illustrious Hufflepuff traits—but alas, it is not so. Hufflepuffs have no illusions about their rank in the pecking order. One cannot say that they are remarkably self aware, but the reputation of their house at Hogwarts is a rather hard thing to miss. Still they go about, ever loyal and true, despite the fact that they do not know what they are meant to be loyal to, and let's not even mention the fact that they never ask how that loyalty is supposed to be expressed or demonstrated.
The obvious question is why. Why bother keeping around a house like Hufflepuff at all? It's true that someone's got to be at the bottom of the list, but it can't be any good for the children to have their sense of self worth quashed so early on in their lives. Why not fold the slightly clever ones into Ravenclaw, the slightly brave ones into Gryffindor, and the slightly devious ones into Slytherin and let those three houses take turns standing at the bottom? Three is a much more auspicious number than four ever was or will be, and it's not as though anyone would miss House Hufflepuff except for the Huffies themselves. They might cry a few weeks, but they do that anyway.
And as for the politics of the decision—there aren't very many Hufflepuffs in positions of power. Well, there was Fudge, of course, a good peacetime minister bent on making everyone happy—he surprised everyone by how effective he was at making them happy—but he was proven to be incompetent in times of war or whenever there were any really controversial issues at stake. Without Fudge and his government, most of the important offices have once again been evenly divided up between the Serpents, Gryffs, and Ravens. As long as their respective houses aren't meddled with, it's not an issue to eliminate Hufflepuff. Some might argue the matter of tradition and the intent of the founders, but it's just as easy to point out that times have very obviously changed, and the old "tradition" argument is simply another way of saying that Hufflepuff would make a fourth person at the dinner table. There's no real reason to keep them in Hogwarts or in society. Loyalty never was so terribly important as the Sorting Hat always made it out to be.
Gryffs can count the number of foes they've conquered, the number of adventures they've had, the number of trophies they've won. Raven can count the number of tests they've passed, the number of discoveries they've made, the number of times they've been cited. Serpents can count the number of foes they've fooled, the number of plots they've executed, the number of people who owe them favors. Put in such pragmatic, clear, and elegant terms, it's easy to ask: what can Hufflepuffs count? What does loyalty give them? Why should Helga Hufflepuff, who was by all accounts a bright and clever witch dedicated to her work in herbology, decide her house should hold loyalty as their distinguishing virtue?
Perhaps a few anecdotes, to illustrate whatever the point of these ramblings are.
In 1773, a wizard by the name of Richard Billoworth, a Gryffindor with a taste for adventurous economic ventures, lost all his capital in the American colonies which were, at that time, rising up to rebellion. He had poured every last penny into establishing a business for the export and import of magical products, importing to Britain such an abundance of rare raw materials, and importing fine wands, cauldrons, spellbooks, and other essential goods that every respectable witch or wizard needs. Due to some poor decisions, the business had been faring rather badly and Billoworth had one last chance to redeem his enterprise. Those chances were destroyed in a stroke of bad luck, thrown overboard together with the unfortunate tea of the East India Company in what became known as the largest and most vulgar tea party of the century.
Penniless, hounded by angry investors, debt collectors—the wizarding kind were particularly vicious at the time—and goblins bent on recovering their gold—even if it meant sending Billoworth down to the bottom of the Atlantic to collect the spoiled goods and selling them for a reduced price—Billoworth had no one to turn to. His wife and children were evicted from their house, the family was stripped of all possessions and the entire lot put up for auction, but it was not enough. None of his former friends stepped forward to help, except one Samuel Copperson, a rather dull and plain Hufflepuff whom Billoworth had befriended halfheartedly during their Hogwarts days. Copperson could not pay off the creditors, but he did offer room and board for Mrs. Billoworth and the three Billoworth children. Later, when Billoworth was able to clear himself of the debt and rebuild his life, he asked Copperson why he had done it. Certainly Billoworth was grateful, but he secretly wondered if Copperson had hoped to gain something from the exchange. Had he enjoyed seeing Billoworth in such a pitiful state?
Samuel Copperson looked at him, the gaze keen and piercing.
"I did it because you were my friend, and it was the right thing to do."
And that was the end of that.
1847, Miss Anne Grey of Ravenclaw found herself pregnant in the seventh year at Hogwarts by Mr. Frederick Kilsborough of Slytherin, a member of the Board of Governors. It goes without saying that Mr. Kilsborough was married and demanded that Miss Grey get rid of the child. She, terrified of the scorn of society and shame it would bring upon her family, yet utterly unable to even entertain the notion of killing the baby, fled from the school. She wandered the unforgiving terrain that surrounded the school—the location had been selected for precisely that reason—until weak with hunger and thirst, laid herself down to die. She was discovered by a Mrs. Allan, a kindly old widow woman who took her in, nursed her to health, helped her get over her hysteria, and a few months later delivered the baby. Mrs. Allan was a Hufflepuff well acquainted with the machinations of Mr. Kilsborough, and she somehow managed—though it was a mystery to all those involved—to get him sacked and publically shamed. Miss Grey never married, but her child did not want for food or warmth or affection, and grew to be a fine wizard who attended Hogwarts and requested specifically to be sorted into Hufflepuff.
1912, after the sinking of the Titanic, Mr. Dilscomb and Mrs. Dilscomb, both of Hufflepuff, adopted two children, Catherine and Thomas, whose parents drowned in the sinking of the Titanic, and raised them with as much affection as any parents could raise any child. Interestingly, Catherine and Thomas were sorted into Slytherin.
1894, a young Hezekiah Twonka fresh out of Hogwarts and Hufflepuff opened a sweets shop which every three years distributed enchanted golden cards guaranteeing the lucky holder a lifetime of free sweets. Mr. Twonka unfortunately went out of business due to his generosity, but it is said his example inspired a famous muggle story—complete with house elves—and that he was a generous man who cheered countless children.
1634, Brenda the Biggleshire Sorceress, former instructor of Herbology and head of Hufflepuff at Hogwarts rescued forty seven chickens, three roosters, fifty nargles, and twelve powerfully magical mistletoe plants from being needlessly slaughtered and burned. The local muggles had, in their ignorance, suspected the creatures had been possessed by demons.
1933, William Cornerstone and his best friend, Wallace Strickner did random good deeds during the muggle Great Depression such as transfiguring stone to bread, pebbles to potatoes, and turnips to tomatoes. They were eventually apprehended by the Ministry, but the records reveal that the Hufflepuffs thought it their duty to help those in need.
1783, Coriander Smith, a Seer of some repute and her brother Corinthian Smith, a moderately powerful wizard who had devoted his life to the study of protective spells and wards, laid down the most complex and powerful and admittedly befuddling protective enchantments on the British Isles to date. Coriander, anticipating the rise of Napoleon and immense upheaval in the continental magical world, with her brother Corinthian managed to lay down protections that guaranteed that "Bonaparte and his type" would never be able to set foot on Britain. Those were the exact words.
This was rather problematic, as it is unclear to this day whether the spell considers "his type" to include such megalomaniacal leaders as Hitler and Mussolini and their respective armies, whether it simply means the French, the Corsicans, the Italian Corsicans, people with the name Bonaparte, people descended from Napoleon, all of the above, none of the above, some of the above on alternate Thursdays by the Gregorian calendar, or all short men compensating for deficiencies in their stature by taking over France. The fact that Napoleon was a muggle may or may not protect the British Isles from invasion by magical maniacs, though this theory has yet to be tested as Britain seems to favor homegrown Dark Lords. It is generally agreed that while Coriander and Corinthian did a great service to their country, including a Ravenclaw or better still, a Slytherin, in their plans would not have been amiss.
These are only the seven most interesting examples. The other random acts of Hufflepuff goodness are not nearly as dramatic or noteworthy as these seven and it may be debatable whether they may be called works of goodness at all, as some caused more harm in the aftermath than good. Some of those acts of good were never returned, some were repaid by treachery. But whatever the outcomes of those well-intended actions, it cannot be denied that Hufflepuffs have a sort of "do good for people who've never thought highly of them because they think it's the decent thing to do" complex. Never mind that Hufflepuffs do not always have the best judgment when it comes to people, never mind that Hufflepuffs never expect to be recognized or compensated for these acts of goodness. They believe in loyalty, and this is what loyalty means to them.
It's appalling behavior when one looks at it any other way. Why do something if one doesn't expect to get anything out of it? Why expose oneself—and perhaps more—by offering help to a stranger, or people who were very near strangers anyway, simply because of a pang of sympathy in one's chest? It's ludicrous. It's not that any of the other houses take issue with the idea of "good." Ravenclaws study good, in a philosophical way. Gryffindors fight for good, in a self-assured way. Slytherins use good, when it's convenient. Hufflepuffs do the stupid thing—they believe in good. Whatever "good" really means. If you asked a Hufflepuff what "good" means, they might stare at you as though you've grown two heads.
The problem with loyalty is that it's not something that can be used for personal gain. Loyalty is something given away to another person, institution, nation, and just because it's been given doesn't mean the giver can gain anything in return. A citizen gives loyalty to their country—does the country give loyalty back? No, the premise is ridiculous. The government of the country promises to protect the citizen to the best of their ability from invading enemies, the Prime Minister of the country promises to enact bureaucratic reforms or instate new programs, the local courts promise to arbitrate disputes between neighbors in a fair and unbiased manner. But they don't promise loyalty. Nor does the land somehow embrace the citizen through the earth and promise to reciprocate.
A student gives loyalty to their school—neither the school nor students nor staff pledge loyalty back. The professors are responsible for teaching the students the necessary course material to pass their tests and some professors might be fond of certain students. But nowhere in their contract does it state that professors must like all their students and perform some vow of loyalty. Students might become friends with each other and on that level some promises of loyalty might be exchanged or implicit. It is far from mandatory, and there are times when the loyalty of one friend far exceeds that of the other.
Loyalty is, by definition, an unequal exchange. The only time one might consider it "equal" in the traditional sense of the word is when two people give to each other the same measure of loyalty. Yet even then there are problems, because how does one know the amount of loyalty the other person gave? Does one test the exchange? How does one measure loyalty? Does one demand blood oaths or unbreakable bonds to die for each other, or perform some other equally dramatic deed? The act of giving loyalty puts one in an incredibly vulnerable position, because implicit in loyalty is also trust. One trusts that the loyalty of the other is equal, or one trusts that the government will protect one to the best of their ability, or one trusts that the professors will do a fair job of teaching. The terms of loyalty can never be written out and enforced as a contract—it's not loyalty if it is. And most damning of all, loyalty cannot be forced from a person. It's completely voluntary. One only has oneself to blame if one's loyalties were somehow misplaced, misjudged, or completely abused.
No one in their right mind would be loyal. There is absolutely no guaranteed gain and so much to lose. Hufflepuffs might argue that there is much to gain from being loyal: friendship, for example. But whatever can be gained is entirely dependent on the other person. It's not a matter of going out and fighting for, plotting for, or studying for whatever one desires to achieve. It's a matter of waiting for it; a matter of trusting that the other person will be "good" and "decent" and return that loyalty in full measure. Hufflepuffs, at the age of eleven, are some of the sweetest children in the world. They're just as eager as all the other students to be filled with the magic of Hogwarts, but they enter the school believing that magic has the power to do away with all the bad and unpleasant things in the world. They enter the school, sheltered and stupid and so blindingly hopeful that the Sorting Hat puts them in Hufflepuff, and by the time they leave, the education they received was in more than just magic. It's in the pecking order.
Every Hufflepuff goes through a learning curve, some more slowly than others. They learn that the other students are not interested in simply getting along. They learn that the other professors are not interested in being nice. They learn that some take vicious pleasure in causing pain in others, they learn that not everyone can be trusted, and most importantly, they learn that not everyone can be loyal. Hufflepuffs are put together because it's safe for them to trust each other. They understand each other and the predicament they've been thrown in together and they help each other through the experience. No contracts are drawn up, nothing must be repaid, no books are read and consulted, no lectures are delivered, no trite phrases to "quit whinging and deal with it like a Gryff."
It sounds like a rather easy lesson to swallow, the idea that not everyone wants to be best friends and run hand-in-hand through a field of daisies. All children have learned it at some point—Hufflepuffs could be considered a bit behind the curve. But for Hufflepuffs, the realization leads to a period of disillusionment. All the houses have their own unique disillusionment points. For Ravenclaws, that point comes when they discover not all the answers can be found in books or though intense study. Serpents are shell-shocked to learn that sometimes, things can't be got by plotting circles around a person. This usually happens when a Slytherin falls in love. They learn that sometimes, they have to actually risk something of themselves and trust. Gryffindors, the most dramatic of the lot, are most powerfully disillusioned when they learn the things they were fighting for might not have been "good" by any sense of the word. It's the disillusionment of a knight who learns that the Holy Grail wasn't holy at all, or perhaps doesn't exist in the first place.
Hufflepuffs are not so different from Gryffindors in that respect. Their point of disillusionment comes when they realize that others don't believe in good as Hufflepuffs believe in good. That the idea of "good" has as many meanings as there are people on earth, and no matter of friendship or loyalty or trust or force or books or strategy can get people to agree on a definition or conduct themselves according to that standard. In many ways, it's a more fundamental question about people. Are we naturally good? Then why do we lose faith in that goodness? What is the origin of evil? Is evil really a just a consequence of insanity, or does it say something about people that they don't want to face? Hufflepuffs rarely get this far in their struggles with human nature—they don't contemplate questions so much as process the feelings, but that doesn't make this insight any easier to digest. Hufflepuffs are loyal because there comes a time when they don't feel like being loyal anymore, and their housemates step in and pick up the slack because it's the decent thing to do. That's what Hufflepuff loyalty is about.
Later, after the bitterness and disillusionment, Hufflepuffs learn that not everyone understands loyalty, and not everyone can give it. It's a gift, this ability to trust others and believe in good, whatever that might mean. Each house is gifted with something. Ravenclaws are gifted with intellect. Slytherins are gifted with strategy. Gryffindors are gifted with instinct. Hufflepuffs are gifted with emotion; emotion that allows them to tolerate more, empathize more, sympathize more, feel more, and therefore risk more than the students in the other houses.
Does this ability, does loyalty, give anything to society? No. It doesn't give anything that can be quantified or even seen substantially. Is House Hufflepuff really necessary at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? No. The students could still be sorted into the other houses and they would come out rather differently than if they had been in Hufflepuff, but they would survive. They might even become much more successful than if they had remained in Hufflepuff. Certainly they wouldn't always live at the bottom of the pecking order.
Should Hufflepuff be eliminated from Hogwarts, indeed from society? Do we actually need these slightly stupid, easily misled, hard working, ambitionless, talentless, decent, plain, boring, emotional, friendly, mediocre, nice people in the world?
No.
Of course not. The answer is obviously no. Loyalty, like goodness, can be defined however we choose and it's not that important anyway. So no.
Besides, it's not as though anyone would actually miss you.
A/N- For my sister, a self-proclaimed and very proud Huffie.