~~~A/N:- Like it ? Add to library!
Have some idea about my story? Comment it and let me know. Creation is hard, cheer me up! VOTE for me! ~~~
Chapter 23 — Choice
The hat's voice was still humming in my head when I sat back down on the stool. "Not Slytherin, no… but the rest?" it said, thoughtful and a little teasing.
I kept my hands quiet on my knees. My pulse was busy, even if I was trying to look calm.
Ravenclaw came to mind first. Clever people, clever things; they liked puzzles and thinking and being right. I wouldn't mind being around that sort, but it sounded a bit lonely sometimes — the sort of place where people lose themselves in books and forget to eat.
Gryffindor showed up next, loud and bright in my imagination. Brave people, the sort who bolt into trouble and grin about it later. I thought of Harry — of his hair and his look — and it was tempting to picture him at the table beside me. It would make keeping an eye on him easier. But then I checked myself. Maybe it would be better for him to find his feet without me hovering. Gryffindors were wonderful, but they charged where others might pause.
That left Hufflepuff. Loyal, steady, kind. The sort who help without asking for praise; the sort who notice when someone needs a mug of tea. The common room was near the kitchens, too, which felt sensible. Warmth, quiet fairness, and probably better puddings. It sounded right.
The hat made a small noise, as if it were pleased. "Practical, are we? No shame in that. Hufflepuff does suit a good heart and a steady hand."
I let out a small laugh. "Hufflepuff, then," I said, soft.
"Better be—HUFFLEPUFF!" it called, loud enough that half the hall cheered.
They clapped and whistled and stamped, and I took my hat off quickly, trying not to look too foolish as I walked to join my new House. A couple of Hufflepuffs came straight up to me — one tall lad with a friendly grin, another student with curly hair who told me, "You'll like the puddings." It was as simple and as warm as that.
"Welcome to Hufflepuff," the tall lad said, shaking my hand. "You'll fit right in."
I felt the nerves peel away a little. The Hufflepuff table was busy and noisy in the friendliest way. They made room, passed bread, offered pies. It was exactly the sort of welcome I'd hoped for without asking.
As the Sorting finished, the Great Hall simmered down and Professor Dumbledore stood up. He had that same light in his eyes — like he knew when a difficult puzzle would turn out fine.
"Before we begin our meal," he said, "I would like to say just a few words." He paused, smiled, and then — the hall held its breath — he said, with a little flourish, "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" Laughter broke out, and I swear everyone felt ten years younger for a second.
Then the plates filled. Roast beef, chicken, mountains of potatoes, yorkshire puddings, vegetables, pies, every sort of pudding I'd ever heard of and some I hadn't. The smell alone made my mouth water, and I ate like I hadn't eaten properly in a fortnight.
Between mouthfuls, the table around me chatted — not about famous names or pedigree, but about homework and jokes and whether anyone had a favourite lesson yet. People were easy, and I liked that. It felt honest in a way that made the last few years at home seem far away.
After a while, Dumbledore stood again. The plates cleared themselves instantly. He waited for the noise to settle before speaking.
"Now that our bellies are full," he began, "a few start-of-term reminders." His tone was mild but carried through the hall easily. "The forest on the school grounds is strictly forbidden to all students who value their lives — and limbs. Mr. Filch has also asked me to remind you that magic is not to be used in the corridors between classes."
He went on, "I am delighted to announce that our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor this year will be Professor Eldric Thorn."
Polite applause followed.
Dumbledore's eyes swept across the hall again, kind and bright. "Now, off to bed, all of you. Rest well, dream deeply, and be ready for the year ahead."
With a wave of his hand, the benches scraped back, and the prefects began to lead us out.
We followed the through the corridors, past the great staircase and down toward the lower levels of the castle. The air grew cooler, the stone walls closer. Soon, we stopped before a stack of large barrels.
The prefect tapped one in a rhythm that sounded like the word "Helga Hufflepuff." The lid swung open to reveal a round, cozy passage. Warm, golden light spilled out.
Inside was the Hufflepuff common room — soft chairs, glowing lamps, and the smell of baked bread and something sweet. It felt like stepping straight into a home.
End of Chapter 23 — Choice