Hufflepuff House
Hana learns more about her new friend over the next several hours. Maybe it’s more accurate to say she learns about muggles—honestly, they’re such a strange bunch, with their cars and markers and phones. Yuko looks horrified when Hana tells her about head-only Floo communication.
Eventually the sky outside their window darkens black and purple like a bruise, the mountain curling like a bowl around their destination. It means her time in the pretty pink dress is over, replaced instead by drab grey skirts and black robes of the Hogwarts uniform.
“We should change into our robes,” Hana sighs. “It’s too bad we can’t make them any cuter.”
“We—We need to change before we get there?” Yuko says nervously. Hopscotch ribbits in her lap, having migrated from the carrier halfway into the trip. “I thought that was just for classes…”
“No, they make you wear it all the time unless you’re in the dormitories or out to Hogsmeade.” Hana stretches her arms above her head and yawns before dislodging Angel to snag the robes from her chest. “You can also wear house colors with it after you’re sorted—scarves and things like that, and they sell special robes too with colored insides.”
“Can I change in the bathroom? I—I don’t like changing in front of people,” Yuko confesses worriedly. “And do I really have to wear the pointy hat?”
“You can try, but there might be a line,” Hana tells her. “If you like I can turn around and guard the door. You don’t like the hat?”
“They’re a bit silly… and, um, sure, If—If you wouldn’t mind,” Yuko mumbles, hands fidgeting against her pants. “Just please don’t look, okay?”
Hana drags her pointer finger round her hand in promise, but that just seems to confuse Yuko further. It’s odd to think the muggles just… don’t know about unbreakable vows. “Oh, sorry—it’s an old thing that means ‘I promise.’ Do muggles have anything like that?”
“Oh.” Yuko seems to consider that for a second, finger tapping at her chin. “Cross my heart?”
“How would you cross your heart?”
Yuko makes an X motion over her chest and adds, “A-And you say, ‘cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.’”
“Ew!” Hana wrinkles her nose and blinks reflexively, turning towards the door anyway and laying her robes out on the end of the bench. “That’s gross. Do you really stick a needle in your eye if you break your promise?”
“No, it’s just a figure of speech.” There’s some rustling as Yuko assures her, probably her going through her own trunk. “There’s pinky promises, too, but those are for little kids. You kinda, um, put your pinkies together?”
“I like it better than needles in my eyes,” Hana grumbles, careful as she pulls the dress off not to catch or tear anything. It’s quickly replaced by one of the thin grey cardigans Miss Himari had bought for her, two of which had been charmed to stay warm.
“What—What about yours?” Yuki grunts in a distinctly unladylike way as she yanks something off behind her, which Hana graciously chooses not to comment on. “That weird hand thing you did.”
“Oh—we have a spell called an Unbreakable Vow,” Hana explains, shimmying her Heather-grey skirt over her long socks. “You hold hands, and someone else casts it, and it sorta casts a rope around your hands. If you break your promise, you die.”
There’s a clatter and thud, presumably as Yuko trips and falls back on the bench. Hana resists turning around to check on her, instead reaching for her robes to fasten tightly over her shoulders. They’re a bit big on her—the closest size to hers in the bargain shop—but they fit well enough that she won’t trip if she’s careful.
“What? You die?!”
“Yeah?” Hana pats down her robes to banish any errant wrinkles. She can’t wear the hat until after the Sorting Ceremony, sadly. “That’s why I just did the joke one. You’re not supposed to make those kinds of promises for real unless it’s super serious. I mean, I’d rather drop dead than stick a needle in my—”
“We don’t do the needle thing! Oh my gosh.” There’s an audible shiver in Yuko’s tone, but the swish of clothing starts to move again. “That’s super scary.”
Hana just hums in reply. She thinks some of the things the muggles do are scary, too, especially without magic to save them. What an interesting difference. “You almost done changing?”
“Y-Yeah, uhm, one second,” Yuko says hurriedly. “Don’t—Don't turn around yet.”
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Hana says faithfully, crossing her finger over her chest like Yuko had shown her. “Stick a needle in my eye. I’m holding the door too.”
“We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time,” the conductor says, echoing from the walls of the train. “Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately.”
“Eep! Okay, I’m done,” Yuko squeaks. “Does, does it look okay?”
Hana turns away from the door, smiling at her new friend. She’s shifting her weight back and forth, clearly unused to the weight of the robes. But she’s tied the robe correctly, something Hana had needed to practice for days to do that quickly. “I mean, they’re kind of gloomy in my opinion. But you look fine!”
“Oh, good,” Yuko frets. “Um, but—Do I need to leave Hopscotch here?”
“Since he’s a toad, you can bring him if he’ll stay in your robes. But you just got him, right? Is he trained yet?”
“I didn’t… know you could train frogs,” Yuko mumbles sheepishly. “I suppose I should leave him in his carrier, then? Will—Will they be gentle with him?”
Genuine anxiety twinges in her voice. Yuko pets Hopscotch's scaled head with gentle fingers, and Hana sees her hands are shaking with more than just pet-related nerves, but it’s still touching to see. And Hana can’t really say her heart isn’t thudding in her chest at the idea of leaving Angel here like this, at the mercy of any monster or creature that might try swallowing her whole in Hana’s absence.
But that won’t happen, and anyway, Yuko looks stressed enough without Hana being worried too. She skritches her fingers over Angel’s fur to calm herself and repeats the same assurances she’s been running through her head from the start.
“Most students have pets,” Hana says gently, pulling out the same reassuring smile she uses to calm the really little ones back at the children’s home. “The House Elves are kind to them, don’t worry. C’mon, Angel—I know, but you need to go in the carrier, okay?”
Angel meows, upset. Hana scoops her up anyway, petting apologetically beneath her chin, but she doesn’t purr at all as Hana closes her carefully inside it, double-checking it’s properly lashed onto the trunk. She slips a few treats through the bars before peering out the window as the train starts to slow.
“Okay,” Yuko says, mostly to herself, Hana is pretty sure. “Okay, Hoppy. You gotta go in your box again, okay? Hana said that—wait, you guys have elves?”
They’re led through an impossibly dark forest trail, escorted to boats by a tall, dark-haired man with a genial sort of smile. Hana watches Yuko gawk at everything, from the massive castle to the glittering black lake to the way the boats take off all on their own, coasting gently over the water and beneath a pitch-dark cave.
Hana grips tightly to the lantern beneath her robes, eyes trained on the Professor’s lamplight. She can feel the shakes and tries to distract herself by whispering with Yuko, but the twisting shapeshifters crawl just in the corners of her vision until they finally dock and file into the thankfully well-lit castle halls from below.
They’re greeted by a sharp-looking man with a stern expression. He’s wearing deep blue robes, blond hair perfectly combed back and eyes hidden beneath strange glasses.
“The first years, Professor Kento,” their guide says graciously as they huddle around the doors.
“Thank you, Geto. I’ll take them from here, so please return the boats. Come this way now, children.”
They follow him across the flagged stone floor, and Yuko isn’t the only one craning her neck this time. Hana relaxes immediately beneath the torchlight, taking in the massive entryway and the grand marble staircases carved straight into the floors. In the daytime, she knows, they move and shift constantly with students still on them.
To their right Hana hears the idle chatter of what she knows must be the Great Hall, filled to the brim with the entire rest of the school, and her heart really can’t help but skip a few frightening beats. It’s strange to feel so nervous about this—this is just the first step of her destiny—but Hana flusters anyway. She’s about to step in front of the entire school and, most importantly, Megumi himself; hundreds of talented witches and wizards staring her down and waiting for the Sorting Hat to judge her.
Yuko presses tightly to her left as Professor Kento beckons them to an empty chamber to the side of the Great Hall, and the voices muffle strangely to nearly nothing. The Professor starts to give a speech, something about Houses and House points and noble histories, but everything else drowns out when Hana turns a bit to make room for herself and sees! Him!
Megumi Fushiguro, in the flesh. She’d sworn she hadn’t seen him on the platform or the boats, but she must have overlooked him somehow. Merlin only knows how she hadn’t felt it—the immediate burst of her heart when she locks onto his profile, all sharp lines and cool eyes. Even his robes are rumpled artfully, ironed but so casually as to hardly matter.
He’s even more handsome than Hana remembers, standing there with his hands tucked into his pockets. He looks every inch the hero who saved her two years ago from the boggarts’ nest; more, even! Flustered, Hana pats down her hair, long since freed from its ribbon and curling like springs around her shoulders.
She’s so caught up, in fact, that she doesn’t notice the ghosts until Yuko screams and clings so tightly to Hana’s sleeve it nearly hurts. Yuko’s not the only one, though; Hana reckons all the muggleborns and a good number of half-bloods all scream at once, and probably even a few purebloods get startled too.
Nearly twenty of them had slid through the roof, casual as you please. Agatha House has a house ghost, too; a rather confused old grandmother who likes to help take care of the children, so she recognizes them instantly—pearly white and slightly transparent, they pay no mind to her or the other first years, too focused on their own argument.
A stout, rather fat monk speaks before she can say anything to reassure her friend, voice measured and wheedling. “Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him another chance—”
“My dear friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not really even a ghost—I say, what are you all doing here?” another ghost asks them, dressed in a frilly ruff and tights.
“New students!” the friar cheered, smile widening as he swooped even lower. “About to be Sorted, I suppose? Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old House, you know.”
The door creaks as Professor Kento reenters the room, and he sighs as he sees the crowd of intruders. “Move along now, ghosts. The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.”
A few of them call out their own House or throw out a few choice insults to others as they go, but one by one they vanish through the opposite wall. Yuko is trembling, so Hana takes her hand to squeeze it and offers her her most reassuring smile.
Yuko manages a shaky sort of smile in return, but a smile’s a smile and Hana takes it as a success.
“Now, form a line,” Professor Kento says brusquely, pulling up his sleeve and checking his watch. “And follow me, please. It’s time for the Ceremony, so be ready.”
The Sorting Ceremony. Her foster siblings had told her about it—the talking hat that read your mind and placed you in your very best House match, called in alphabetical order to the front of the Great Hall. Megumi will be going before her, even. All she has to do, then, is think quite hard about getting into whichever House he does, and it should be a breeze.
More disconcerting than the future of her Housemates and future husband, though, is the idea of all those people staring at her. At least with the robes, she doesn’t have to worry about looking shabbier than anyone else—but what if she trips? What if she gets nervous and flies off like she’s a child again? Megumi surely wouldn’t ever look at her again.
Yuko clings anxiously to the back of Hana’s robes as they line up. “It’s—it’s just a hat, right?” she whispers frantically as Kento waves his wand and the massive double doors to the Great Hall swing open. “That’s all?”
“A talking hat,” Hana corrects in a hushed voice over her shoulder. “It reads your mind and sorts you in just a minute or two; it’s easy. Don’t worry.”
Around the anxiety, excitement thrums against her heart like a hummingbird. Her eyes are drawn once more to Megumi, of course near the front of the line as they enter the Great Hall. She can only sort of see the tips of his hair, short as she is, but she’s walking with him towards their destiny.
The Great Hall itself is, of course, fitting of the stories she’s been told. Thousands and thousands of candles hover high and low like errant twinkling stars, lit along four absurdly long tables. The Hall surely stretches past the walls of the castle, one huge pocket of magic fit to hold every student of Hogwarts at once.
Glittering gold plates and goblets sparkle over the tables. Returning students smile at them with anticipation as they pass, murmuring to each other in hushed bets on who and where they’ll go to. She only breaks her gaze off Megumi’s hair to take in the High Table, seated by the Professors and, in the very center, Headmaster Gojo preening in a golden chair.
His grin is the same as every portrait she’s ever seen of him, wide and edging towards troublemaking. His white hair rivals the shimmery ghosts, lit like fire under the candlelight, and though she can’t quite see his famous blue eyes from this distance, she can certainly feel them cutting through her as they make their way to his table.
Professor Kento leads them towards the Head Table and lines them up in a row alongside it, facing the washed-out, flickering faces of their soon-to-be-classmates. Hana is smiling so hard it feels like her face is going to crack off, but she’s still sweating for some stupid reason, palms damp where she holds them primly at her waist. Her eye contact falters for a moment, and she desperately wants to crane her neck to look at Megumi, but that would just be unladylike.
Instead, she casts her eyes up to the ceiling and nudges Yuko to do the same, if only to distract her friend from her obvious stage fright. She’d read about it of course, in Hogwarts, a History—the shimmering ceiling, enchanted to mirror the sky above them. Right now it’s deepened to a velvety black, glinting with countless stars above the candlelight.
The most magical place on Earth, she thinks firmly to herself. And the first step of her concrete life plan.
Professor Kento steps out in front of them to precisely place a stepstool and the Sorting Hat between her fellow first years and the other students. It’s patchier than she expected, brown and dusty and more stitch than hat, but that just goes to show its wisdom, she’s sure. From the corner of her eye, Hana sees Yuko staring at it like it might somehow bite her in a rage.
The hat twitches. A rip near the seam opens up, and the whole thing scrunches like it’s blinking before it stretches that mouth wide and sings,
“Oh, you may not think I’m pretty,
But don’t judge on what you see,
I’ll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There’s nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can’t see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you’ve a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You’ll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don’t be afraid!
And don’t get in a flap!
You’re in safe hands—though I have none—
For I’m a Thinking Cap!”
The whole Great Hall bursts into applause and cheers as the hat finishes its song. Hana can’t help but clap along as it bows to each table, thinking all the while which House would suit them best. Megumi is very brave of course, and intelligent also, and surely loyal too. The only House she absolutely can’t imagine him Sorting to is Slytherin.
Professor Kento unfurls a scroll he’d pulled from nowhere, long and trailing as the line of new students. “When I call your name, come put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted. Adachi, Fuyuko!”
A pink-faced girl in pigtails stumbles out of line and almost trips over the stool. The hat falls nearly to her nose as she sits. A moment’s pause, and then—
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
The table on the right cheers, and judging by the banners adorning the ends, Hana thinks that must be the Hufflepuff table. Fuyuko sits at the cleared end of the table, clearly open for new-years to quickly find seats among their new Housemates.
“Bando, Hachiro!”
“HUFFLEPUFF!” shouts the hat again, and Hachiro scuttles off to sit with Fuyuko. Yuko fidgets, shrinking over herself as much as she can with her wider stature.
“I hope they use the right name,” she mutters. Hana doesn’t frown, because she’s standing in front of every single student of Hogwarts and soon she’ll be standing in front of Megumi Fushiguro, but she does feel her brows crease.
“Why would they use the wrong—?”
Professor Kento’s voice booms out again, unnaturally present in the massive room. “Bunya, Haru!”
“RAVENCLAW!”
The table second from the left erupts in applause, several of the Ravenclaws stand to shake Haru’s hand as he reaches them.
“Don’t worry about it,” Yuko mumbles, even though she herself looks quite worried about it. But even wracking her brain, Hana can’t remember one mentioned instance of anyone in the Sorting Ceremony being called the wrong name—a squib managing to sneak onto the train and put the hat on, yes, but the hat had kindly informed him he wasn’t a wizard, and he hadn’t even been called by name.
Probably just another thing in her anxious friend’s mind, cluttered up with everything else unlikely and terrifying. Maybe that happens often in the muggle elementary schools she’d grown up in, but everything would surely go perfectly here.
“Chikanatsu, Kasumi” goes to Ravenclaw, too. “Chishu, Mari” is the first one Sorted into Gryffindor, and the table at the far left positively explodes with noise and catcalls. “Dazai, Natsuki” is the first Slytherin, and the remaining table seems more satisfied than loud as they clap.
‘Deushi, Rokuro!”
“GRYFFINDOR!”
On and on it goes, one after the other. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin—Hana imagines herself dressed in reds or yellows or blues, earning House points and surely impressing Megumi until she’s equal enough at his side that her knight finally falls in love with her.
Some first years take longer than others, the hat pausing for thought for a full minute or two. Others, the hat barely touches the top of their hair before it shouts and wriggles away. The E names pass painfully slowly, Hana’s heart thumping in suspense.
And then, finally—
“Megumi Fushiguro!”
Hana jolts to attention. Megumi steps out from the line coolly, expression one of bland indifference at best. He doesn’t even look nervous at all, Hana marvels. Megumi sits on the stool and places the hat at such an angle that it doesn’t fall over his eyes.
The hat is quiet for a moment—then another moment, and another. Time crawls on in utter silence as the Great Hall whispers with anticipation. Hana had also read in Hogwarts, A History, that the longest recorded time beneath the hat belongs to Headmaster Gojo at over six minutes. Of his many titles, one of the first had informally been Hatstall.
Megumi isn’t a Hatstall, though. Just past the two minute mark, the hat snaps out, “RAVENCLAW!”
A genius! Hana is most certainly in love with a genius; a budding scholar soon to leave his mark irreparably over the wizarding world. She’ll have to work a little harder to keep up, but that was always part of the plan.
Megumi places the hat back over the stool, strolls to the Ravenclaws with both hands tucked in his robes, and totally ignores the few who try to shake his hand.
So cool.
And on and on drone the names, one by one by one. She’s still daydreaming about the sorts of scholarly books they could bond over when Professor Kento calls, “Itadori, Yuuji!” and Yuko stiffens visibly at her side.
The crowd hushes, and it’s only now that Hana realizes she knows that name.
Yuuji Itadori, the boy who lived. He seems happy enough for a former victim of You-Know-Who, scar slashed across the side of his face like an ugly shadow just beneath his eye. For a famed wizard acclaimed across the continent, he doesn’t much look like he knows what’s going on.
He’s cute, Hana supposes, observing her friend’s paramore with a critical eye as he bounds forward like an excited puppy. And certainly very famous, if the whispers of the Great Hall are any indication. Bright blond hair and happy brown eyes, nearly tripping over himself to snatch the hat up and plop it on his head. He laughs and says, “Whaddaya mean, hat?” and Hana counts three seconds before the hat declares,
“GRYFFINDOR!”
Oh, what a shame. It would’ve been nice for her and Yuko to have been in the same House, but it seems destiny has other plans for them. For his part, Yuuji seems ecstatic; less for knowing what that means and more in response to Gryffindor House’s wild uproar of cheers as he bounds over for high-fives and claps on the back. The ruckus doesn’t die down until Professor Kento sharply clears his throat to continue.
Everyone settles immediately. Hana files away that this might not be the sort of teacher to upset in class.
“Kugisaki, Nobara!”
Another girl, young and uncannily smug for being called right after the Boy Who Lived, struts up to the stool like she’s on a catwalk. The hat settles over her eyes and shouts, “SLYTHERIN!”
“HA!” the girl yells in a nasty sort of way, like she’s proven someone wrong in front of all and sundry. Then she slaps the hat back down and jogs over to Slytherin House’s table with her head held high.
There’s only a few of them left. That means that pretty soon—
“Kurusu, Hana!”
VERY soon!
Hana jolts in place, still caught off guard by Yuuji Itadori reappearing in the wizarding world as her new friend’s crush and the odd Slytherin girl’s strange attitude. It takes a second for her body to catch up to her brain, and she does her best not to flush as she steps up to the stool, all eyes on her as she carefully sets the hat over her hair.
Well, aren’t you something.
Hana doesn’t flinch. She’s already been warned about the telepathic hat rifling through her memories like a pensieve, measuring the weight of her soul to the feather. She’s prepared for this moment for nearly two years.
My name is Hana Kurusu, she thinks back to the hat, as powerfully and confidently as she can manage. And I need to be in—
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
Hana gapes in front of every single student of Hogwarts. You didn’t even let me finish! she thinks furiously at the hat, beaming pure frustration as her expression twists. I need to be in Ravenclaw! I—!
“Miss Kurusu, please head to your House table,” Professor Kento urges her tiredly. “We’ve a schedule to keep, if you don’t mind.”
Prized possession of Hogwarts her behind! If she gets her hands on that ragged wizard cap again after this is over she’ll render it to scraps to patch her clothes with! Hana’s eyes sting angrily as she stands and distinctly does not punt the awful thing to the ground. She settles it primly to the stool and turns towards the Hufflepuffs, all smiling happily and waving her over.
No matter. No matter. Ultimately she’s sure it must still be fate. The Sorting Hat had read her memories, after all; knew all her dearest desires and her and Megumi’s history. She takes a calming breath as she sits, enough to smile at her new Housemates, and feels the embarrassed flush in her face start to cool. Surely, then, this is where she needs to be.
Just and loyal, unafraid of toil, the hat had sung. Hufflepuffs often grow to be kind, selfless witches and wizards who contribute leaps and bounds to ease the suffering of others. Perhaps to help people—to help as she had been helped, so that she can be worthy—Hufflepuff will best suit her goals. After all, people date and marry outside their Houses all the time.
Mentally she apologizes to the Sorting Hat for her outburst, and wonders if it can hear her when it isn’t on her head.
In her irritation, she hadn’t thought to sit facing Ravenclaw House’s table, but—she’ll be here for the next seven years, after all, and it isn’t ladylike to stare. And anyway, she has a long way to go before she could actually consider herself worthy of him, and far be it from her to try interrupting his studies.
Besides, she has a second mission now too: Yuko’s happily ever after with her destined partner.
Only four left to be sorted. Ideally she’d be sorted into Gryffindor alongside Yuuji, but—and Hana doesn’t mean it in a rude way! But Yuko doesn’t seem very… well… brave, as of yet. Even now she looks so tense Hana thinks her bones might all snap. Two more students are called and get sent to Slytherin and Ravenclaw respectively, and then finally Professor Kento calls, “Ozawa, Yuko!”
It takes a second for Yuko to even move, eyes flashing to Hana’s with unbridled fear and frozen like a jackalope in a train light. She covertly shoots her two reassuring thumbs up, burying her own disappointment deep beneath a pile of confidence.
Yuko takes a visible gulping breath, trembling beneath the many eyes on her before finally stepping to the Sorting Hat. She doesn’t trip or stumble, and her hands are gentle as she sits and places the hat overtop her head, where it settles overtop her cheeks.
The Sorting Hat doesn’t think for longer than a heartbeat. “HUFFLEPUFF!”
Hana joins her new Housemates in clapping, but doesn’t debase herself to cheering indoors. Yuko, too, looks disappointed with the Hat’s decision, but she beelines straight for Hana. She sits carefully, cautiously, like she’s worried the heavy oaken bench might collapse beneath her, and her whole face is red as an apple from the attention.
Hana leans conspiratorially towards her as the last name is called, no longer interested in the Sorting Ceremony. “Do you think we’ll be in the same dormitory?”
Something strange flashes through Yuko’s expression, but it’s gone before Hana can properly read it. “M-Maybe… I’ve never shared a room before, I—”
“SLYTHERIN!”
Yuko jumps, clearly still jittery. But it’s the last one, and after he strides towards his new House table, Professor Kento rolls up the scroll with tired finality. Hana can’t help the gurgle from her stomach—no matter how embarrassing it is or how audible, it’s been hours since the pasty Yuko had gotten her. With the excitement finally faded, there’s nothing to distract them from it.
Her friend, too, looks longingly at the empty plates as Headmaster Satoru Gojo stands from his lustrous chair and spreads his arms, clearly pleased as punch. His robes look thick and bulky on him, like beneath it all he’s all skin and bones, too.
Hana can’t help but think he’s awfully young for a Headmaster, but even she knows the stories.
“Welcome!” he greets them all cheerily, first years and returning students alike. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nine Ropes! Polarized Light! Crow and Declaration! Between Front and Back! Thank you!”
And then he sits back down, pleased and haughty as though he’d made some grand declaration. Hana joins in the applause, and after a confused few moments, Yuko follows her lead. As the noise dies down, though, her friend leans closer to whisper, “Was that a spell?”
“What? No,” Hana whispers back. “No, he’s just a bit mad, I think. That’s what all my Housemates said anyway.”
Then the smell of food hits her like a train, and she whips her head around to the serving trays, suddenly filled to overflowing with rich foods; roast beef and chicken skewers, fish and stewed tofu and piles of tempura, fried cutlets and mountains of fried rice with vegetables, rice cakes and steamed buns framed by bowls and bowls of clear soups and miso, noodles and broth.
The food replenishes even as it’s taken, and her new Hufflepuff housemates are cordial and gentle with the serving plates. It reminds her a little of back home, passing plates of food amongst each other to save the caretakers the trouble. They’re friendly, too, and Hana chats with the handful of first and second years at their end of the table as they pass and trade platters.
She’s eager to scoop rice and vegetables in generous heaps. Tender fried tofu and decadent onigiri and perfectly grilled eel soon join it, and the pitchers fill with juice and tea, some steaming and others instantly frosted at the base. The first bite is divine, the second even more so; Hana’s so caught up in the euphoria of the rich, filling food and drink that it takes her several long moments to realize Yuko’s plate is still as empty as it started.
Hana chews and swallows before speaking. “Yuko? You’re not hungry?”
Yuko flinches, eyes lifting to the bedazzled ceiling like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t. “Oh, no, I—Everything looks amazing, but I’m… trying not to eat as much.”
Now Hana frowns. “If you don’t eat now, you won’t have anything until breakfast. You should eat something.”
“I already had the sour worms, I mean slugs,” Yuko corrects harriedly. “It’s just my diet, I’ll be hungry anyway.”
Now that sits poorly with her.
“Listen,” she insists. “If you want to impress Yuuji, you have to be healthy first! You can’t do magic on an empty stomach, you know.”
“I don’t know,” Yuko says faintly, eyeing the food with unabashed longing.
“At least have some soup and fish,” Hana cajoles, simultaneously fighting to keep her robe sleeves out of her own food. “And look! Tofu’s healthy, isn’t it? C’mon, try some!”
She doesn’t need any more convincing than that. There’s relief in her face as she carefully portions out fish and rice and lightly fried tofu, slicing it neatly somehow with just her chopstick. Hana takes it upon herself to pour two cups of clear soup for the both of them, broth swimming with green onion and sliced mushrooms, and they smile at each other through wafts of steam.
“Oi, new years!” someone calls down the table. He’s friendly looking, with brown hair and freckles, and lifts his goblet up in greeting. “Congrats on getting into the best House of them all! Everyone, let’s toast! Kanpai!”
“Kanpai!” cry the other Hufflepuffs in unison, some stopping mid-bite to scramble for their drinks. Her fellow first-years follow suit, some fumbling the heavy cups, and Hana takes her own in both hands to cheers with.
There’s a smattering of laughter as the table settles back down.
“Um,” Yuko says softly, and Hana turns with her drink still lifted between her hands to see Yuko’s cup raised towards her. The other girl is smiling shyly, eyes skirting just to the right of her ear. “Kanpai, Hana.”
Hana laughs and tinks their goblets together. “Kanpai! Here’s to following our destinies.”
“Destiny,” Yuko says thoughtfully. Her eyes drift over their shoulders to the other end of the room, where Yuuji is good-naturedly soaking up the attention. “I didn’t… know he was famous.”
“Super famous,” Hana agrees. “He’s the only person to ever survive the killing curse. Sorry I didn’t recognize his name on the train right away, it was silly of me.”
“No, it’s okay,” Yuko says reassuringly. “I, um… I’m excited to share—share a dormitory. With you. I hope we end up in the same… do they split up boys and girls?”
“Of course,” Hana agrees. “In fact, I’ve heard they’re all spelled to keep you from getting into the wrong one! Honestly, it’s so improper.”
Improper seems like a big enough word for a Ravenclaw, doesn’t it? Hana’s pretty sure it does.
“Improper,” Yuko says softly. The carefree smile had slipped right off her face, and now she looks worried again. “Right…”
“Don’t worry, Yuko,” Hana says, patting the inner pocket of her robe that holds her wand. “I’ll make sure none of the boys get in, okay? Even Yuuji. We should all get married first, anyway, that’s what my headmistress says.”
At once, the food all vanishes, even from their plates. For a moment, everything is sparkling clean, and then the table creaks suddenly beneath the weight of the desserts.
Platters of sweet cheesecakes and thick slices of chocolate cake, cream and strawberries fit to bursting from the layers; piles of taiyaki, pudding and shaved ice in every flavor. Colorful mochi stacks next to coffee and cherry jellies, and rich blocks of ice cream sit untouched by their clean bowls.
On a hunch, Hana discreetly eyes her friend. As she suspects, Yuko is staring longingly at the luxurious desserts, but her fists stay balled in her lap. Her dinner had been light at best, she thinks worriedly, recalling against her will the ache of her stomach against the front of her spine, hungry and desperate.
As a compromise, she reaches for one of the thick-cut chocolate cakes. Hana really had eaten too much already, and really she could just splatter in bed and fall into a coma right now, but it’s not like she’d ever pass up a cake like this, with whipped icing and strawberries.
“Share with me,” Hana says sweetly, half-demanding and smile firmly in place as Yuko startles. “I can’t eat it all; I ate too much.”
“O-Okay,” Yuko squeaks, but melts instantly at the first bite. She claps an appreciative hand to her cheek as she chews, humming in a pleased sort of way. “Oh, wow. It’s so good!”
“Hogwarts has the best food in the country,” Hana says proudly, hand raised to cover her full mouth. “Ooh, we should try it with some ice cream!”
“Okay,” Yuko agrees enthusiastically, and they feast happily on cake and cream. Eventually, though, the desserts disappear, too—leaving the grand table to look as though nobody had eaten in the first place.
In their absence, Headmaster Gojo stands, still smiling widely. He has his own goblet in hand, the contents surely swishing nearly over the edge as he gestures grandly to them all.
“Ahem! Just a few more words, now that everyone’s fed and watered,” he says once the Hall had gone silent. “I have a few start of term notices to give you. Firstly—First years should note that forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. A few of ourolder students would do well to remember that, too. I’ve also been asked by Mister Filch to remind everyone again that magic isn’t to be used in the corridors between classes.”
At that, the Headmaster winks. Hana notices he distinctly doesn’t actually tell them not to, and resolves to have her wand on her at all times in case of other unruly students flinging nonsense about.
“Secondly, Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Professor Takuma on their own time for more details.” Suddenly the Headmaster’s voice lowers, not quite as serious as it is secretive. “And lastly, I’m required to tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is totally off-limits to anyone who doesn’t hope to die a very painful death.”
Hana blinks, alarmed. She turns to look further down the table for answers, but the returning students look just as confused as the first years.
“Guess we won’t go that way,” pig-tailed new Hufflepuff Fuyuko Adachi mutters anxiously.
“And now, before we go to bed, let’s sing the school song!” The Headmaster flicks his wand like he’s trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flies out of it, winding quickly through the air above them and twisting to shape out words. Words Hana certainly doesn’t need, as she’s had it memorized since receiving her letter. “Everyone pick their favorite tune, and off we go!”
Hana, eager to finally be part of Hogwarts, lifts her voice as angelically as she can and sings along to the traditional tune as the cacophony bursts around them, every student bellowing at once into the mess of it:
“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something please,
Whether we be old and bald
Or young with scabby knees,
Our heads could do with filling
With some interesting stuff,
For now they’re bare and full of air,
Dead flies and bits of fluff,
So teach us things worth knowing,
Bring back what we’ve forgot,
Just do your best, we’ll do the rest,
And learn until our brains all rot!”
Everyone finishes the song at different times. Some of the first years look alarmed at best and horrified at worst, some awkwardly stumbling over the last lines and others shrunken completely into their robes. Some pranksters from Gryffindor House are the last ones singing, twisting their proud school anthem into a funeral’s dirge, but the Headmaster just conducts it happily until they finish, clapping uproariously alongside the students.
“Ah, music,” he says wistfully, wiping playfully at his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here. And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”
Hufflepuff Prefect Gabriel Truman rounds them up with the rest of their Housemates and leads them through the chattering Hall. Yuko sticks close to Hana’s heels as they go, but even she’s distracted by the grand school; the castle walls and archways and the whispering, gossiping portraits they pass by.
She’s unbelievably full and sleepy, but Hana still feels the pang of disappointment as she cranes her neck to follow Ravenclaw House with her eyes as they shuffle off in the opposite direction. She’ll make a fine Hufflepuff—there’s no other outcome, after all—but she still mourns the opportunity to share a dorm with her destined partner.
More than once, the Prefect leads them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. All the while he regales them with the stories behind old gargoyles and suits of armor as they pass, the bathrooms and classrooms of yesteryear.
"I got into big trouble during my third year for duelling a Ravenclaw prefect who insisted that Bridget Wenlock had come from his house, not mine,” he says, which Hana thinks is an awfully strange thing for a Prefect to admit. “I should have got a week of detentions, but Professor Ieiri let me off with a warning and a box of coconut ice."
Most of the House walks ahead of them, but a few trail back to chat with the Prefect and new students, though Hana rather things she’s too exhausted for that. They descend another massive staircase as he talks, deeper and darker into the school, and wind up near what Hana assumes is the kitchens, a side-corridor packed with barrels and stacked with crates. It’s dark aside from a few burning torches, and boxed on either side with larger wooden storage compartments reminiscent of barrels themselves, drilled straight into the wall and carved with gargoyle’s heads.
“There’s a few entryways, but this is the main one,” Gabriel announces once they reach a particularly clean bunch of barrels. Most are stacked sideways overtop of each other, but a few stand upright scattered about, all of them nicked and scuffed as any barrel might be. “Now—I know you’re all tired, but watch this very carefully. If you do it wrong, you’ll be absolutely blasted with vinegar, and I promise it ruins your robes.”
“Vinegar?” Yuko whispers to herself from Hana’s shoulder, confused. But the Prefect pays it no mind, instead turning to a particular barrel and rapping his knuckles in a particular pattern.
The larger storage compartment to their left shifts suddenly, wood and carvings folding back to reveal a tunnel of a passage. The earthy scents of soil and foliage waft out, and most of the returning students bid their goodbyes and head inside, but the Prefect raises a hand to stop the first years.
“There’s a few entryways like this hidden about the castle, but they’re a bit harder to get through,” he says with some amusement. “Barrels stacked like this are often Hufflepuff entryways as well as ingredient storage for the kitchens and classrooms. You’ll always tap the barrel two from the bottom and middle of the second row to the tune of Hel-ga Hu-ffle-puff—our House Head, you know. This one opens an actual door. The others—well, it’s only the barrel that opens. You’ll have to crawl through it. Okay, watch your step.”
The tunnel is pleasantly cool, bits of roots dangling from the walls and ceiling of it, but it’s nothing compared to the room it opens up to—round and earthy and low-ceilinged; with burnished copper pots hanging from every wooden rafter. Greenery overflows from plant pots high and low, curling over beams and windowsills, and a few plants even stand at attention and softly trill in greeting.
The whole place is somehow sunny, still, mellow sunlight pouring in through the huge round windows and spilling over the cushions piled on their sills. Every way she looks there’s views of rippling grass and swaying yellow dandelions even though they surely must be underground by now, and when they step forward to let everyone inside, long-reaching tendrils of ferns and ivy brush their heads.
It looks quite homey, Hana has to admit. Warm and round and cozy, with tall cacti grown to fit along the curves in the wall and bent around bookshelves cluttered with light reading. Overstuffed sofas and chairs surround polished, honey-colored wooden tables similarly stacked with small succulents and dancing houseplants, and round doors hardly bigger than the shelves and built into the far wall lead to where she assumes the dorms are.
There’s already a cheerful fire in the hearth, crackling and merry. A copper kettle hangs just above it, warming the contents inside, and the fire itself is wreathed in cozy, rounded bricks and a wooden mantelpiece carved with dancing badgers. There’s a portrait hanging over top of it, and Helga Hufflepuff’s smiling face brightens as she sees them, tiny golden cup lifting in a silent toast to her House students.
Everything is wreathed in copper and wood, yellow and black, with squashy pillows and cozy resting nooks. Haha half expects a bee or two to start flitting about or real grass to grow in carpets around the plush, earthy round rugs. It looks like the perfect place to study in—and to sleep in, Hana thinks dozily.
The Prefect yawns and rubs an eye before smiling tiredly at the lot of them. “Welcome to Hufflepuff House,” he says kindly. “Your dorms are that way—left for girls and right for boys. You’ll find your names in front of the dormitory you’ll live in while you’re here. Feel free to settle in, everyone.”
And with that, he gives a friendly wave before trotting away with the rest of his classmates. The door to the boy’s dorm doesn’t look as heavy as it should, considering how easily he slips inside, surely also bespelled. Yuko looks absolutely gobsmacked as Hana turns to wonder aloud if they’ll be roomed together, face open and vulnerable as she drinks in the casual magic of the place.
She gently runs a finger over a dangling leaf and jolts when it chirps at her and curls itself back to the stem. “This place,” she says as she notices Hana’s eyes on her, breathless and somehow confused. “It’s so…”
“Magic,” Hana tells her, a bit cheekily. But Yuko smiles back, real and genuine. “It’s our home for the next seven years. Do you like it?”
“I love it,” Yuko says vehemently as the last of their new classmates filter away. Then she hesitates, eyes casting away to the charmed windows. “I wonder… what Gryffindor’s rooms are like…?”
Hana’s smile softens somewhat as her mind wanders, too, towards Ravenclaw House. Would it be full of books? Hidden beneath the library, perhaps, and decorated in handsome wood and sharp blue armchairs? Is it nearly so bright as this one, or only lit by a crackling fire? Does Megumi like the accommodations?
“Well,” she finally says, sighing. “We should make the best of it. This just means we have more time to prepare! Don’t worry, I’ll help you be the best witch ever so you can impress Yuuji —besides me, of course.”
Yuko giggles. “You know, you’re kinda weird, Hana.”
Hana huffs and sets her hands on her hips, but before she can say anything in rebuttal she’s interrupted by a jaw-cracking, severely unladylike yawn that rings tears to her eyes. The banquet food sits heavily in her stomach, and even her blood feels thick and sleepy now.
“Do—Do you think I’ll be able to stay in the girls dorm with you?” Yuko says oddly. “I’m a little—I don’t know. I keep thinking someone will tell me they made a mistake soon, and I’m not actually supposed to be here at all.”
“Don't be silly,” Hana says primly. “The Sorting Hat would’ve said something. C’mon, let’s see where our dorms are.”
In a pleasant twist of fate, they’re placed in the same room, names floating in silvery mist just against the doors and dispersing as they pass the threshold. Copper lamps cast a warm light over five squashy four-poster-beds dressed in thick patchwork quilts, yellow and black and brown. They all face the same wall, situated in a half-circle, and three already house the witch-shaped blanket lumps of their sleeping roommates.
There’s another fireplace, but it’s smaller—hardly more than a hot pile of gently glowing stones and situated at the focal point of the feet of their beds. Their purpose is immediately clear as Hana takes in the copper bed warmers hung from the wall next to coal-scoops, all brightly polished and well-used. It’s nothing like the dented, scratched ones back home.
“How quaint,” she says quietly to herself, pleased. The last two beds are beside each other, the furthest from the doors, and Hana’s trunk is already placed confidently at the foot of the bed, filled pet bowls tucked along the wall. Angel is sleeping soundly over the quilts, and in the alcove between their beds, a larger, more permanent terrarium is set up from Yuki’s belongings. Hopscotch blinks back at them and croaks one soft, welcoming croak, deep red-brown scales glinting in the lamp-light.
Hana is tired to her bones, all the nerves and anticipation of the day wiped by food and drink and friendly faces. She beelines for her trunk and the soft cotton pajamas inside, but doesn’t bother changing behind the divider, long-since used to a lack of privacy. Yuko brightens at the sight of it, though, and disappears behind it to change herself.
She means to wait—to turn towards Yuko when she returns from changing and ask how her first day at Hogwarts had been, but the bed is warm and her tiny lantern glows softly where she tied it to her bedpost, and the last thing she hears before falling asleep is Angel’s comforting purrs.