As Wise as a Hufflepuff
written by Bridget Wenlock
Juniper Is a student at Hogwarts. The years are flying by and the end of Hogwarts is getting nearer each day. From potions to the Quidditch cup to possible romances, Juniper spends every day doing something she will remember in hopes of being able to cherish the moments she has left.
Last Updated
05/31/21
Chapters
15
Reads
870
Hogwarts and Houses
Chapter 1
My heart pounds like never before, this is like nothing ever before. I may be a half-blood, but even dad's tales of the castle on the lake simply cannot do justice to the splendor in front of me. I inch one small foot off the small boat and onto land. I am on Hogwarts campus, the one and only Hogwarts. The Hogwarts of Newt Scamander, of Bridget Wenlock, of Harry Potter, of the great Harry Potter. Even the Hogwarts that fabricated the Dark Lord, Voldemort. A castle of many faces, of many trials and many achievements. I look back to the glistening Black lake and yes, this is happening. I pinch myself to be sure, scowling at the pain. I feel stunned of the sheer size of the school. I force myself to remember that yes it is a school, and not a fairytale castle of my wildest dreams. I suppose it is both, at least for the time being. The Towers and halls look monstrous, like they are about to swallow me up whole. We begin our ascent towards the massive castle, trudging up step after step towards the golden light streaming in from the large glass windows.
"My name is professor McGonagall," says a pointed looking woman with sharp, glasses covered eyes and a pointed hat, "Welcome to Hogwarts. You will soon be sorted into your houses. While you are at Hogwarts, your house will be like your family, the same values as the others in your house." I timidly raise my hand,
"Professor, how big is each House?" I ask. She responds with a wry smile,
"Very good question Miss Blackwell, it really does depend on the house. I will say that it seems we have had a fair amount of Gryffindors over the past few years." She seems to chuckle to herself and I nearly ask why until we begin to walk again, towards the mountainous, looming school. We walk through a large, large, pair of wooden doors-befitting a mountain troll it would seem-and into the Great Hall. The bustle of students around us is overpowering and overwhelming and the actual number of students sends a shock through me.
"Now" McGonagall says in a voice that silences everyone.
"First years I will call out your name and you will be sorted into your house. Gryffindor is the house of the brave. Ravenclaw is the House of the Wise. Slytherin are ambitious and cunning. And, Hufflepuff is the house of the kind and hardworking." She calls a number of students, including a tall girl with dark brown curly hair and freckles that speckle her nose like stars.
"Blackwell, Juniper" McGonagall calls and I walk forward, all too aware of the hundreds of eyes on my robed back. A large tattered hat is placed on my head, strange, I never though the hat would seem so-aged. The fact that the hat begins to speak startles me and I nearly jump, reminding myself I have waited for this my entire life. My father is a Gryffindor, older than the generation of Harry Potter, Hermione, and even Ron. At this point, I'd expect the trio to be studying for jobs.
"Hmm. Very difficult," the hat purrs, sound vibrating in my skull, "Wise, hardworking, and brave. Very intelligent, possibly Ravenclaw," I inhale in anticipation as a eager look crosses a quarter of the school's face, "yes but very loyal and hardworking, hardworking indeed. A need to stand up for what's right," no matter the consequence it muses into my mind, "Hmmmmmm. Well, I guess it better be, HUFFLEPUFF!!" One of the four tables cheers loudly, elated voices booming in the Great Hall. A tall looking boy welcomes me into Hufflepuff before I can properly comprehend what's going on. Hufflepuff, I'm a Hufflepuff. Somehow, I always envisioned myself a Gryffindor, like my father, though that's childish. I turn to look back at the Sorting hat, and I could have sworn I saw it's folds of fabric winking in the soft glow of candlelight. When I turn around, it's then that I notice that the girl with freckles is in Hufflepuff as well. I remain silent as I eat the delectable food, but the older students and other students around me welcome me in a way that makes me feel wanted and special. They fill me in on stories, on tales of house ghosts and wrong passwords. I laugh deep into the night, glad for the first time that I am where I belong. It is this feeling, not the food that fills me with warmth from head to toe.
"My name is professor McGonagall," says a pointed looking woman with sharp, glasses covered eyes and a pointed hat, "Welcome to Hogwarts. You will soon be sorted into your houses. While you are at Hogwarts, your house will be like your family, the same values as the others in your house." I timidly raise my hand,
"Professor, how big is each House?" I ask. She responds with a wry smile,
"Very good question Miss Blackwell, it really does depend on the house. I will say that it seems we have had a fair amount of Gryffindors over the past few years." She seems to chuckle to herself and I nearly ask why until we begin to walk again, towards the mountainous, looming school. We walk through a large, large, pair of wooden doors-befitting a mountain troll it would seem-and into the Great Hall. The bustle of students around us is overpowering and overwhelming and the actual number of students sends a shock through me.
"Now" McGonagall says in a voice that silences everyone.
"First years I will call out your name and you will be sorted into your house. Gryffindor is the house of the brave. Ravenclaw is the House of the Wise. Slytherin are ambitious and cunning. And, Hufflepuff is the house of the kind and hardworking." She calls a number of students, including a tall girl with dark brown curly hair and freckles that speckle her nose like stars.
"Blackwell, Juniper" McGonagall calls and I walk forward, all too aware of the hundreds of eyes on my robed back. A large tattered hat is placed on my head, strange, I never though the hat would seem so-aged. The fact that the hat begins to speak startles me and I nearly jump, reminding myself I have waited for this my entire life. My father is a Gryffindor, older than the generation of Harry Potter, Hermione, and even Ron. At this point, I'd expect the trio to be studying for jobs.
"Hmm. Very difficult," the hat purrs, sound vibrating in my skull, "Wise, hardworking, and brave. Very intelligent, possibly Ravenclaw," I inhale in anticipation as a eager look crosses a quarter of the school's face, "yes but very loyal and hardworking, hardworking indeed. A need to stand up for what's right," no matter the consequence it muses into my mind, "Hmmmmmm. Well, I guess it better be, HUFFLEPUFF!!" One of the four tables cheers loudly, elated voices booming in the Great Hall. A tall looking boy welcomes me into Hufflepuff before I can properly comprehend what's going on. Hufflepuff, I'm a Hufflepuff. Somehow, I always envisioned myself a Gryffindor, like my father, though that's childish. I turn to look back at the Sorting hat, and I could have sworn I saw it's folds of fabric winking in the soft glow of candlelight. When I turn around, it's then that I notice that the girl with freckles is in Hufflepuff as well. I remain silent as I eat the delectable food, but the older students and other students around me welcome me in a way that makes me feel wanted and special. They fill me in on stories, on tales of house ghosts and wrong passwords. I laugh deep into the night, glad for the first time that I am where I belong. It is this feeling, not the food that fills me with warmth from head to toe.
