A couple friends and I were talking about the houses, and, being a Hufflepuff and feeling bad for them, this came over and I decided to try it out. I tend to stay away from the HP fandom, because I can't write British at all (poor American girl), but as this had no dialogue, I figured it'd be okay.

It's weird, being in Hufflepuff.

It's not a bad thing, no one would say that. It's just not a particularly good thing. It's sort of like not being in Hogwarts at all. You don't mind too terribly, because the kids are kind and you like your common room, but you do care that yours is always the last house mentioned, and occasionally not mentioned at all. It's annoying that when you ask what a Hufflepuff is, most will say, "Friendly, aren't you? Loyal and all that."

But things change, because there's Cedric. For one shining moment, Hogwarts takes notice of you. Hufflepuff is important. It's the house of a champion. It's the house to represent that amazing school you love.

And then there's Harry.

And then there's Harry.

You don't hate Harry, not exactly. It's more this deep down ache, because you know that it doesn't matter what Cedric does, because Harry's there. And it's always about Harry. If Harry came in last and Cedric in first, the tabloid would always focus on the-boy-who-lived.

But somehow, somehow you hold onto that scrap of hope. You believe that Hufflepuff can still be something, can still be noticed. So, with hope, with anger, with pride, you cheer for Cedric. You shun Harry. You dream of victory, and you almost have it.

And then he's dead.

Cedric's dead.

You see Harry crying over the corpse. You hear the cries of anguish rip from your throat. You knew Cedric, you looked up to him, you liked him because he was wonderful and good and loyal and friendly, and the things a Hufflepuff is supposed to be. Though, at the moment, you aren't thinking in terms of houses.

Because he's dead.

But your house is as well.

Once the death fades away, once a few months pass, you know it. You don't have hope. You no longer want to argue the virtue of your house. You want to fade into the background, you want to swallow your pride, rush away, and hope that no one wears a scrap of yellow around you ever again.

There is no shame in Hufflepuff.

But it's nothing to be proud of.

So, tell me if it was terrible, and I'll do my best to fix it up in the future!