Loyalty and Kindness
September 1st, 1891
Scottish Highlands
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Winnie had heard stories, and tales from her cousins and family about Hogwarts. The mischief that took place in those corridors, the warm food they ate in the Great Hall, the magic they learned in the classrooms, and even the cozy ambiance of their common rooms.
At some point, the concept of Hogwarts, became a vividly painted fantasy, only to be seen in her dreams. Winnie had accepted with great regret that she would never be able to see the school for herself, her cousins so eloquently telling her that squibs don't go to Hogwarts. She became an object of her cousins' ridicule, referred to as a dud. The endearing insult devolved into 'Duddy Winnie,' 'Winnifred the Stupid Squib,' and even 'The Culpepper's Prodigy Failure.'
So to finally lay eyes upon the school she only ever saw in her dreams was every emotion wrapped into one. The castle seemed to be quite literally carved out of a mountain, and wholly supported by magic. Towers, turrets, and battlements were chiseled out of stone with fine-tuned detail, and flickering amber lights cast dancing shadows across the ramparts. The massive, seven-story castle's reflection was painted across the large inky black loch with artistic precision, and pale moonlight seemed to be the only solace of light as it bleached the wizarding world in its ghostly hue.
Inside, the corridors were cool and musky, their footsteps bouncing off the tall ceilings that not even the shimmering flames from the torches that clung to the walls could reach. Winnie and her professor stopped outside a set of large wooden doors as Fig peered inside. He let out a relieved sigh before approaching Winnie.
"Good! We haven't missed the sorting ceremony!" He then took a pause, his old blue eyes peering down at Winnie's destroyed traveling garb, sullied with mud and dirt, her skirt torn and fraying, and a splatter of blood staining her collar. He cleared his throat and withdrew his wand, giving a small wave. Winnie let out a small gasp as she felt her clothes contorting and twisting, changing shape and color until she stood there, clad in a Hogwarts uniform and robes. "I'm no expert, but that seems more appropriate."
His lips puckered as he took notice of her ruddy, blood-stained face, and matted, frizzy hair. "This one may be a bit more unpleasant..." Another flick of his wander and Winnie felt the soot and debris being scoured off her face, and a painful tug to her hair. At long last, her blond hair fell across her shoulders in more manageable locks, partially tied back and out of her face.
"Now, I need to study this locket as soon as I can," Fig told her as he paced back to the doors. "But first I must contact the ministry. They need to know what happened to George and be warned of Ranrok."
Winnie nearly flinched back as Fig spun around to face her abruptly.
"For the moment, I ask that you keep all that's happened this evening between you and me," His voice was quite serious, and his eyes were pleading. If tonight was any speculation of how well she trusted Fig, it only made sense for her to respect his wishes and promise. Not that she rightly knew of a single soul whom she'd tell, her history of friendships hardly made her a socialite.
"Of course, sir," Winnie vowed, nodding her head. She did not know if she would ever be able to find someone she trusted as much as this old man.
"Thank you," He smiled warmly at her before clasping his hands together. "Ready for the Sorting Ceremony?"
The Sorting Ceremony. Winnie wouldn't deny it, she was so irresistibly curious of where that old hat might send her. As Fig leaned into the Great Hall, became drowned in her thoughts, almost giddy at the prospect of being sorted. Was she brave enough for Gryffindor or smart enough for Ravenclaw just like her parents? Oh, she would have to write them and tell them-! She stopped her thoughts abruptly, icy realization slipping back through her veins. Her parents would not be receiving any such owls. Not in Azkaban. Not for what they did to her-
"Phinease. Nigellus. Black," Fin spat out through his teeth, ripping the girl from her thoughts. She raised a brow in confusion. "Prepare yourself to meet...the Headmaster," She wondered just why her mentor spoke those last two words with such insufferable sarcasm and disdain. The Headmaster of the school was supposed to be a revered figure. Surely-,
"Fig."
Standing between them and the Great Hall was a tall and limber man with dark hair styled with painful detail and a finely trimmed mustache on his lip that coincidentally reminded Winnifred of the caterpillars she used to poke in the backyard of her childhood home. The fuzzy, bushy black ones. Every detail of this man was pieced together with precision, from his hair to every last ironed, pin-straight detail of his expensive, emerald green tailcoat.
"Nice of you to join us," The man spoke with a polished, pompous voice as he strode toward them with his hands tucked firmly behind his back, glowering down his nose at his mentor before letting his gray eyes flicker over to her. "The sorting ceremony's over."
Over? But it's couldn't be! She hadn't been sorted yet! Where would she sleep? The catacombs? Would they send her back to the boarding school?
"There were - complications," Fig tried to explain when the Headmaster quickly spoke over him.
"Complications?!" He scoffed incredulously.
"It seems the goblin problem-!"
"Enough!" The Headmaster cringed, disgust rolling off his tongue. "Goblins...I've no time for rumors, Fig, and I'm rapidly losing whatever patience I had left!"
Ah. Winnie could now see why her mentor had said Professor Black's name with such loathsome exasperation. Between his pompous, self-righteous attitude and the over-enunciation of the way the headmaster rolled his 'r's,' she could practically feel her ears beginning to bleed.
"If your lucky, we might still be able to get you sorted this evening," He told Winnie curtly before turning on his heel and haughtily walking back to the Great Hall. Fig waved at her to follow him and her eyes widened as she tripped over her feet to follow the Headmaster.
"I'll be in touch," He whispered to Winnie before she disappeared behind the doors to the Great Hall.
How marvelous...Winnie thought to herself. The Great Hall certainly lived up to its name, she wondered internally as she followed Professor Black down the middle of the room in between four long wooden tables that were covered in food, the benches all crowded by hundreds of students. The roar in the Great Hall began to quiet as many took notice of this newcomer. She tried to focus on anything but the thousands of eyes that were now on her, she looked out the beautiful, ornate windows ahead into the darkness of the night, she tried counting the hundred of floating candles that drifted along through the air, she even tried to peer as deeply as she could into the velvety night sky that had been bewitched into the ceiling.
All until she came face to face with an older witch with auburn hair loosely tucked into a bun holding a battered old wizarding hat. Her brown eyes peered down her half-moon spectacles at the new young arrival warmly.
"Professor Weasley," He spoke, abandoning the new student at the center of the platform where all of those eyes burned into her skin. "We've one more to be sorted."
"Welcome," Her voice, taut and musical, was kind, unlike the Headmaster's tone. "You're just in time. Have a seat."
A seat? Winnie looked down and saw the rickety stool about a foot away and she swallowed roughly, obliging with a nod as she finally turned to face the student body. Great Scot! There were so many! Hundreds of them sitting at four different tables, staring at her the strange new anomaly, that had arrived fashionably late.
And then she felt something covering her head...the hat? However-,
"Ahhh, yes," A voice spoke into her head sounding slippery like a worm, and adenoidal. "A bit older than the others, aren't you?"
Nobody ever said the bloody hat spoke inside your head! I thought it just decided! What else is different?
"You come here with preferences and preconceptions. Certain...expectations?"
"I, well, Mister Hat, I'm...looking much forward to exploring Hogwarts...and the world beyond the castle and grounds. I have a lot of catching up to do. I'm very excited."
"Indeed, much can be gleaned by having an adventurous spirit. But your professors have a great deal to teach you as well...Hmm...I wonder, Hm...I detect something in you. A certain sense of - hmmm - what is it?"
Images from her past began flickering across her brain. Her parents, the girls at the boarding school, and even now, Fig. Despite everything that has happened, Winnie knew one thing about herself to be true. She was loyal to a fault. She wanted so terribly to be rewarded for her hard work and kindness but had only ever found grief and pain, even by those she trusted most. Those painful memories continued to rapidly flash across her brain like someone shuffling a deck of cards when Winnie finally realized what was happening.
"Stop," She spoke firmly, quietly, forcing her mind to grow blank as a sheet of parchment.
"Eh? You-?...That is curious..." The hat hummed as if picking around and snooping through her brain was amusing.
"You've no right to go sticking your nose, er, brim, where it does not belong," Winnie fumed, her cheeks growing pink. "That is personal."
"Is it personal? With a hat like me on your head, there is no such thing as 'personal,'" The Sorting hat sneered. "Perhaps the memories you keep so tightly caged up are just too painful? You've never allowed yourself to heal, it seems."
"I'm fine."
"But are you?" She could feel the magic probing at her brain but Winnie kept her eyes tightly shut and refused to him in. "Blast...you'll quit that, won't you!?"
"Professor Fig told me not to breathe a word of what has happened to anyone, not even a hat," She stood her ground.
"I cannot sort you if you will not let me in!" The hat objected, his frustration growing. Little did Winnie know, five minutes time had passed and the staff and student body were growing both impatient, yet appalled. It was a hatstall, the first of its kind.
"Then guess!" She argued with the hat, crossing her arms. "I will not have you blabbering about what I swore to protect!"
"I cannot guess! You stubborn-!" The hat paused mid-rant. "Despite your adeptness for Occlumency, I believe I have enough...Passionate, hard-working, loyal? You embody those qualities like the most fearsome badger, ready to lash out to protect itself, and those it cares about...Yes...To not put you there would simply be an injustice! You would flourish, and all of the pain and strife you so desperately cling to will at long last be worthwhile. You'll find your true friends there."
"Get on with it, you tosser."
"Of course, you possess the bite of true honesty...BETTER BE-!" The student body gasped as a seam on the brim of the hat opened up and bellowed, "Hufflepuff!"
The Great Hall erupted like fireworks as the new student was finally sorted, cheers and whistling echoing from the table clad in yellow and black. Winnie shakily rose to her feet, wiping the sweat from her brow that she accumulated during her argument with that stupid, insufferable-!
"Ungrateful! You'd do well to thank me!" The hat hissed into her ears, causing a grin to stretch across her face before Professor Weasley promptly removed it. With a warm smile, the older woman pointed her wand at Winnie's school robes. The blonde looked down and felt her dimpled smile grow even wider as she saw her plain uniform and robes begin to morph into brilliant yellow and striking black. Hufflepuff.
Though she couldn't recall a single family member who had been sorted into the house, she was happy, nonetheless, and grateful that the trip to Hogwarts had yielded success.
Winnifred Culpepper was finally a student at Hogwarts.
A Hufflepuff.