Chapter Three; The Daily Prophet~

Incredible. Speechless. Outrage!

Aurorette was plunged head first into an icy cold pool of despair. How could she have been shunted into Hufflepuff, the worst of all houses? The house of elves, the house of huffles and puffs, the house of NO SIRIUS BLACK! For crying out loud, she didn't even know what Hufflepuff house was!

She also didn't know what Gryffindor house was… Wait, how many houses are there? Surely there's at least a dozen. Something like that. But Hufflepuff clearly was not the house for her!

Aurorette had tried in vain to sit next to Sirius, but Professor McGonagall steered her to a table with a bright yellow banner above it stating that she did indeed need to sit with her housemates, that no, there were no take backsies, and no, the Sorting Hat never makes mistakes.

Seriously, how could an omniscient hat ever be wrong placing adolescent minds with a group of dogmatic peers that would impact young children's futures for the rest of their lives? It simply wouldn't do to broaden horizons by the sharing of ideals. What utter nonsense. A knowledgeable seventh year also pointed out, unsolicited, that Slytherin was in fact the evil house. Many other Hufflepuffs nodded in solemn agreement.

After the conclusion of the start of term feast, a handful of Prefects directed students from their respective houses to their dorms. The throng of exhausted students made their way through the doors of the Great Hall and into the corridors. It was soon time to see what the Hufflepuff house looked like!

Aurorette was aflutter with anticipation, but cringed with fear remembering the story about being turned into an elf. She began to ask a first year boy a flurry of questions.

"Are we being brought to the place where they turn us into elves? What kind of house do we live in? How many stories? What's a huffle and how do you puff it?"

"What are you on about?" the boy asked.

"What kind of house do we live in?" Aurorette replied impatiently.

"I…I'm," the boy looked at her with utter skepticism, "You realize I'm a first year, too? We stood together in line to be sorted. Bowler? You're Bunbury, right?"

Aurorette grimaced, unable to remember him. He generously brushed off her rude disinterest and continued.

"I'm just as curious as you. In fact, it's been told that Hufflepuff is so well hidden that no outsiders have ever seen the dorms!"

"Wow," she mused, perhaps there was hope for this house yet.

"I'm Henry," the boy said. "Bowler."

"Henry? Henry Bowler?" Aurorette raised a brow as a girl next to them stifled a snigger. "What kind of a name is that? It sounds silly. See, that girl is laughing!"

"It's a perfectly adventurous name! Maybe even exciting enough to be the title of an International Best Seller fantasy series!" he protested. "You're Aurora, right?"

"No, Aurorette," she smiled with smug pleasure. "Best name ever."

"That's not a name," Henry said.

"Yes it is! It's Japanese for beautiful and most interesting person ever!"

There was a moment of silence before Henry nodded in hesitation.

The quiet that fell between Henry's and her conversation was the catalyst that lulled Aurorette to sleep. She dragged her feet lazily across cold stone floors, her eyes shut, unable to keep them open. Aurorette lifted an eyelid only long enough to fling her arms over Henry's shoulders from behind so as to follow him, slapping away his attempts to remove her, even slapping his face when he protested verbally.

"Shhhhhh," she frowned and put her finger over his lips, "shhhhh."

Aurorette felt their walking went on for an age and a day, as Henry begrudgingly lifted her along. She had yet to open her eyes when she felt a nudge and lots of loud ruffling about her.

"Here," came the voice of the one nudging her again.

"Oh good, we've made it!" Aurorette exclaimed sleepily.

When Aurorette finally opened her eyes, still stubbornly grasping Henry around the neck, an older girl was holding out a newspaper to her. Prefects were handing out loads of newspapers Aurorette saw were titled the Daily Prophet.

"Oh no! Is it morning already?! I felt like I barely slept!" Aurorette moaned.

"No, it's still night, best get rest while you can," the Prefect girl said, pushing the Daily Prophet into Aurorette's and Henry's unwilling hands. "Sometimes, in the summer, I use my newspaper as padding instead of a blanket. Something to keep in mind, if I do say so myself." The Prefect smiled with pride.

They were in a large classroom with chairs and desks pushed up against the walls. Older students were already settling into prime locations that they sectioned off with stacks of desks. Younger students huddled together for warmth with heaps of paper covering them.

"Wait! This is Hufflepuff House?!" Aurorette shrieked. "There are no beds!"

"Yeah, nobody's been able to find the common room entrance since Helga Hufflepuff died and that year's generation of Hufflepuffs graduated," the Prefect sighed in resignation. "It's so well hidden no one's ever found it in centuries. None of the other Houses or professors care about Hufflepuff, that's why we have to stick together! Endurance and loyalty!

"Well, sleep tight!" she concluded and walked off, handing out more papers with a welcoming smile.

Aurorette couldn't believe it! She indignantly ruffled beneath her papers, trying with great effort to get comfortable. The only comfort she found as she drifted off to sleep was Sirius Black's heavenly face. If only she had just been in Gryffindor…


Happy Thanksgiving! I am very thankful for Harry Potter. You know, in your heart, that nobody knows where Hufflepuff really is because nobody cares about Hufflepuff to remember where it is. Why else did it not make an appearance by the end of the series?