Author's Note: Hello all you fanfiction-ers. This is my second attempt at writing a decent Fanfiction. Don't bother reading my first one, it's both horrible and also a one-off. Enjoy!
"Hufflepuff!"
Jee. Thanks, Mr. Sorting Hat. Just where I wanted to be. Hufflepuff. The hardworking. The best thing you can possibly say about me is that I'm hardworking? I'm not smart, or ambitious or brave, just hardworking. Lovely. On top of that, I don't know anyone. If I was in Ravenclaw, at least I would know Bridget. Not that I would like it very much, but at least I would know her. Or Slytherin, where Luke's a prefect, but no. I get the Goddamn hardworking. Okay, so maybe Hufflepuff is credited with being loyal, but when was the last time we won the House Cup? An ancient time ago, probably when dinosaurs still roamed the earth. Lovely.
Luke's looking a little disappointed as I shuffle off the stool. (My feet couldn't touch the ground; I was too short and needed Professor Lovegood to help me off. How embarrassing) and walk halfheartedly towards the cheering Hufflepuffs. I'm slightly wet, as it started drizzling when we were halfway across the great lake. I make a futile attempt to wring out my long strawberry-blonde hair as I take a seat between two boys who look like they could use a good taste of army life. I'm only barely hearing the names called out in a sort of sing-song voice from Professor Lovegood.
"Faron, Alex." (Slytherin)
"Faron, Trevor." (Slytherin)
"Gronn, Sue." (Gryffindor)
"Gunn, Paul." (Ravenclaw)
"Inliter, Tracy." (Slytherin)
God, aren't there any more Hufflepuffs?
"Lanchester, Lori." (Ravenclaw)
"Naretinton, Anne." (Gryffindor) Ha! what an idiotic last name!
"Malfoy, Scorpius." (Slytherin) Figures, doesn't it?
"Potter, Albus." The whole room starts whispering. Poor kid. Such big shoes to fill. As soon as the hat touches his head it shouts, "GRYFFINDOR!" so loudly I think I might fall off the bench. I wonder briefly how much longer this will go on for. I'm starting to get hungry, despite the 4 cauldron cakes, 2 pumpkin pasties, 12 chocolate frogs and one packet of the goddamn ton-tongue toffees that Bridget convinced me were 'safe'. My tongue still feels sore.
"Rinn,Kate." (Hufflepuff). A tall, very lanky, ridiculously pale, knocked kneed freckled girl practically floats towards the table, her frizzy black hair puffed up like an afro.
"Hi," she whispers to me cheerfully.
"Hey," I mumble back unhappily.
"Weasley, Rose." (Gryffindor). Yet another 'it figures' moment.
"Woodrow, Michael." (Hufflepuff) Another tall, dark skinned boy starts shuffling towards the table. He's got broad shoulders and messy brown hair that sits on his head like a mop. Just before he gets to the table, he somehow manages to trip over flat ground. Great. Just what Hufflepuff needs - another klutz. The entire hall erupts into laughter and he blushes beetroot red. Poor kid. I want to get up and help him, but, well, I'm shy. he gets up on his own accord and sits down next to Kate, putting his head in his hands. She smiles at him, but he doesn't see.
Headmaster Thomas walks up to the golden pulpit to start his speech. I believe his full name is Rudolphus Baruffio Thomas, and he looks like he deserves it, too. He's a tall man who fairly resembles a mouse or some other rodent. Although I'm relatively far away from where he's standing, I can see his ice-blue eyes are unreadable. But he looks as though he's getting ready to speak, and about time too. I'm starving!
"Welcome one, and welcome all," he starts in a low-pitched voice. " I am a man of few words, but there are some basic rules that you all must adhere to. First, no first-years or second-years in Hogsmeade. Secondly, our keeper, Mr. Smith, has included so many items from 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' on the banned items list, that I will say what is allowed rather than what isn't, to save time. Edible Dark-Marks, while hideously vulgar, are delicious and allowed. Bruise Remover Paste is allowed, and we have a large tube in the Hospital wing if you might find need of it. Guaranteed Ten-Second Pimple Vanisher, Reusable Hangman and various muggle magic tricks are allowed. Next, the Forbidden Forest is just that: forbidden. Finally, students may not be out after bed hours. Now that the formalities are out of the way, I offer you the wise words once given to me by Albus Dumbledore himself: tuck in, everyone!"
With that, the impressive solid-gold plates (aren't we in a recession?) in front of me fill with the most amazing array of stews, meats, drinks, potatoes, and food in general that I have ever seen in my eleven years on this planet. I immediately fill my bowl with Irish stew, and my plate with a menagerie of chicken, steak, pork chops, baked potatoes, bread rolls and anything else that's in my reach. Even after I'm full and the food is replaced with dessert, I successfully eat half a cake, some jelly and a half a gallon of ice-cream. I lick my fingers noisily and annoyingly. So I'm a fan of food, big deal.
"How did you do that?" Michael asks with amazement, leaning over. He left half of his food on the plate. I pat my enormous and very content belly.
"There's a method to it," I explain, slightly pompously. I take great pride in my art. "Well, first I ask myself, am I hungry? The answer's always yes. Then I ask myself, will this food taste good? The answer's always yes. If at least one answer is yes, then I stuff myself. If neither answer is yes, then I stuff myself anyway." I grin. He laughs, seeming to have forgotten the embarrassment of earlier. Kate starts talking. Very fast. It sounds a little like this; "Ohmygoodness, I'msoexcitedtobeinHogwarts!BothmyparentswereinHufflepuf fandnowIamtoo!I'mrealylookingforwardtoAstron omyandPotionsandMuggleStudie sandallthatstuffandmy mumsaidthatIcouldstayherefor Christmas!Howcoolisthat?"
I tune out after about 5 minutes of her unceasing babble. Looking up at the teacher's table, I can only recognize Professor Lovegood. Well, she's hard to miss, with her long platnum blonde hair, and her earings shaped like an enormous Sun and moon. I can se why Bridget likes Charms so much. Eventually, Kate pauses to take a deep breath. Then she turns to Michael.
"I'm sorry," she says, now at a more reasonable pace, "My name's Kate."
"Mike," Michael smiles sheepishly. They turn to me expectantly.
"Jane. Jane Detries," I sigh. I've always hated my name. It's, well, boring. Kind of like me, to be honest. No specialities at all - no lightning scar, no girl genius, no charisma, no talent in anything, really. I try to convince myself almost on a daily basis that my talents lie in a corner I haven't discovered yet, and it's nearly worked. Oh, well.
"Nice to meet you, Jane," Kate smiles. Despite her annoying friendliness, I find myself liking her.
Later, our Head Girl and Boy lead us down, near the kitchens, to our Common Room.
"Now remember, first-years," the Head Girl says in a painfully patronizing voice, "you tap the second barrel from the bottom in the middle, and you must tap in the rhythm of 'Helga Hufflepuff'. That's tap-tap, pause, tap-tap-tap. Okay?"
"Yes," a mumble rises up from the few of us.
"Okay, then." She taps the barrel and we clamber through the doorway that appears. I need a little boost, though. I fall into the common room, and am taken by the earthy feeling to it. The windows near the top of the rounded look out onto a beautiful meadow, and the moonlight streams through. There's a large, rounded fireplace in the middle of the wall, and on either side there are doors that look like huge barrels. I'm amazed, and I can see the other first-years are too. This surpasses my expectations slightly.
"Right then, girls off to the right, boys to the left," our Head Boy barks gruffly. I meander off, and jump through the doorway, which is elevated off the ground a couple of inches off the ground. I manage and walk down some stairs into a low-lit round room. There's five beds, so I'm likely to be sharing a room with at least one second year student, as there's only been four first-year girls Sorted. I change into my nightgown and crawl between the duvets.
I put my head on the soft pillow and think about what Luke's doing right now. Or Bridget. Hey, I can't help but wonder about my brother and sister. My last thought before dropping off is what my first subject might be tomorrow.