#hufflepuff!ron

[you-re-a-slytherin-harry]

You’re A Slytherin, Harry.

“I guess Professor McGonagall likes me now,” Harry starts to taunt Draco who is apparently upset by the small victory Harry had in Transfiguration class earlier. Draco knows (or he likes to believe so) that the limelight was his if he hadn’t given Harry the opportunity to show off first. And by now, he knows not to allow anyone else get the credits first before him, especially Potter – the first harsh lesson he must learn on their first day of classes.

He despises Harry for that.

Draco grumpily elbows Harry to the side as they descend down the staircase to the Slytherin homeroom together. “Oi! That’s dangerous, ya git!” Harry exclaims after he managed to stabilize himself on the stone step, then continues to walk nonchalantly besides Draco with a bright smile, much to Draco’s annoyance.

“What’s the matter, mate?” Harry asks while resting his arm across Draco’s shoulders. Draco instinctively dodges Harry’s arm and furiously climbs down the staircase without waiting on Harry; Harry watches him from behind with a smile.

Unbeknownst to Draco, although Harry has been acting aloof around him since the Transfiguration class ended, Harry knew his friend is having a terrible day after what has happened in Professor McGonagall’s class. After spending quite some time with him, Harry learns that as a Malfoy, Draco is burdened with his father’s high expectations of glorifying their family name, which are considerably too high for an eleven-year-old boy to achieve in such a short period. And because of that, Harry realizes how Draco must have felt when he didn’t come out as the genius in the class but his friend did. Hence, Harry doesn’t take it to heart with Draco’s horrible temper. At the very least, he allows Draco to consider him as a punching bag for the day in order to blow out some steam.

Harry knows his friend deserves a time-out. And that is the reason why Harry decided not to spend his precious free time with Ms Weasley (which he is looking forward to with anticipation) but to accompany his skinny, pale friend instead in Slytherin common room.

Draco is already slumped into the leather sofa when Harry entered the dingy dungeon. He swiftly takes the empty seat next to Draco, beaming warmly at the upset Malfoy. Draco, on the other hand, tries his best to ignore the vexing Potter by taking up Daily Prophet, the sole British wizarding newspaper to read.

“Mate,” says Harry. No replies coming from Draco.

“Draco.”

Draco refuses to respond.

“Malfoy boy!”

“WHAT?” Draco barks in Harry’s face, finally gave in to the pressure.

Harry grins sheepishly. “Let’s head to the Black Lake. I’m dying out of boredom here,” he says.

“Just bloody die, then.” Draco flips a page of the newspaper, distracting himself from Harry’s eager look.

“Come on now. It’s warm outside, and you wanna spend your free time by literally locking yourself up in a dungeon?”

“If you wanted to go out that badly, then go by all means. Don’t need to wait for me,” says Draco monotonously - and Harry takes that as a personal challenge. He forcefully grips Draco’s wrist and begins dragging the poor fellow out of the common room, up the stone staircase (“Let me go, ya twat!” Draco curses while trying to hold onto the slippery stonewall), across the bustling corridors (“Wait till my father hears what the Potter junior did to his son!” he threatens), and finally out in the sun. By the time they both reached the Great Lake, Draco is looking extremely dishevelled: his sleek pale blond hair is pointing in every direction, his school robe is hanging off one shoulder, and his face puts on a soulless expression.

Harry steps onto a big stepping rock by the shore and takes a very deep breath. He exhales loudly with a satisfied look on his face.

“See? It’s nice to be out today,” he says as he basks in the warmth of the cloudy sunny sky. Draco lugs his two feet to take a seat on the same stepping rock, and he sighs heavily.

“Why are you doing all these, Potter?” Draco quietly asks. His eyes are blankly staring at the horizon.

Harry stares at his friend without a word and sees how small his friend has become once he dropped his heavy shoulders, letting loose his body altogether. Harry sits down next to Draco, staring at the same horizon before sighing softly.

“I thought you needed it,” he answers.

Draco stays silence.

“I’m sorry if I stole your glory in McGonagall’s class. I thought you didn’t mind seeing you were watching me the entire time,” Harry continues.

Both of the boys calmly stare at the still Great Lake. Then, Draco timidly says, “… I don’t think my father would like to hear a Potter beats his son in class.”

Harry softly nods, a sign of understanding. “Of course …” He continues watching a flock of birds soaring above the lake. “But, ya know -” he says, “- perhaps you wouldn’t feel so bad if you were actually happy for me.” Harry turns to glance at Draco and smiles encouragingly.

Draco silently look at Harry, then he chuckles a little while shaking his head. “I don’t think my father would love to hear that.”

Harry joins in the laughter, places his arm on Draco’s shoulders, and grins. “Thought so.”

[childotkw]

(Part 1) Just read a post on tumblr about the idea of Harry, Hermione and Ron being in different Hogwarts houses. It would be so interesting - Harry as a Slytherin, Hermione as Ravenclaw, Ron as Hufflepuff and Neville as Gryffindor. They'd still meet on the train and being in different houses wouldn't changed their friendship.

(Part 2) They wouldn't care about who is in which house, reasulting in them associating with more people, making a group like Voldemort did with Death Eaters, and all of that under Prof. Tom Riddle's watchful eyes.

--

Now see this? This is interesting. Because I can see this.

Neville, small and meek but with something mighty in his chest that is longing to burst forth. Out from underneath his grandmother’s thumb for the first time in years.

Hermione, brilliant and with a mind greedy for all the knowledge she can get her hands on. Away from her parents who have always tried to understand their daughter, but could never quite manage it.

Ron, loud but fragile in the shadow of his brothers, but whose love and loyalty burn ever-bright in his heart. His mother’s suffocating warmth and father’s distracted love already falling away from him at last.

And Harry, young and sharp and far too aware that life isn’t fair, that people aren’t good like in the stories. Who stepped onto a train with no one to bid him goodbye, a bruise from his uncle’s meaty hand still blossoming on his forearm.

The four of them collide on the Hogwarts Express, and something in each of them sits up and pays attention. 

Neville looks at these three and can almost see himself in one, two, five, ten years, standing tall and proud amongst them.

Hermione glances shyly between the boys sitting with her, and while their drives are different, she can’t help but feel like for the first time in her life that she belongs.

Ron smiles, soft in the beginning but growing stronger, at the easy acceptance of the others; wondering for the first time that maybe he could be worthy.

Harry, who watches quietly from the corner of the compartment, green eyes too old but with a strange little smirk on his lips, looking at these three other oddities, and thinking mine. 

They are all a little broken, all a little off. But something was forged between them on that train ride, and nothing - not the pressures of their respective Houses, not the opinions of the professors - will tear them apart.

Neville, in red and gold, ignores the whispers his classmates aim at his back for consorting with a Slytherin. Hermione, in blue and silver, walks with her head held high, discussing theories and homework with her friends. Ron, in yellow and black, ambles along, a fierceness blazing in his eyes whenever someone tries to insult one of them. Harry, who the others silently orbit, green and silver twisting around him, bears the scorn and distrust of his Housemates with a deceptive kind of amusement.

Professor Riddle - Voldemort, whichever version it is, watches with intrigue as this strange group grow and morph into something frightening. He studies the four of them, and wonders at the potential.

[maskedantihero]

You’re A Slytherin, Harry

Professor McGonagall keeps eyeing Draco who has already becoming a lifeless doll closely before she continues, “Since you were impatient, Mr Malfoy, I take it as you’re ready for my class?”

Draco stiffly answers with his eyes – which Harry has no inkling of how he manages to do so – before Professor McGonagall turns around and moves to the front of the class once again. “Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts,” she says as she makes her way. “Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not comeback.”

The stillness of the class doubles once Professor McGonagall stands behind her table. And since all attention is on the professor, Harry can finally see her in her true form: Professor McGonagall is a severe-looking woman in her 50s, with square glasses the shape of the markings around cat’s eyes (though it doesn’t help decrease the fear factor on her face), and a neat black hair bun that causes her face to be pulled backward, adding more the severe-ness of her look.

Despite Harry doesn’t mind getting into trouble every now and then, he strongly rejects the idea of stepping on Professor McGonagall’s shoes.

She stares at her first-year students without expression. “You have been warned,” she says coldly to the class.

Then, as if this is her trick on every first-year Transfiguration class, she changes her desk into a pig and back again in a blink of an eye. And just like every other first-year before Harry, everyone seems in awe by the simple transfiguration and can’t wait to get the lesson started – which only to be let down hard once they’ve realised that particular transfiguration is not part of their lesson just yet. All they will be doing for the time being is jotting down complicated notes, much to their disappointment, but they dare not complain. Not to her at least.

However, the boring lesson takes an interesting turn when Professor McGonagall begins handing out matches to her students. “Each of you is given a match,” she says after every student has gotten a match in his and her hand, “You shall now turn the wooden match into a needle before the class ends. You shall begin.” And on that queue, the graveyard classroom becomes chaotic with all the students reciting the same spell on different tones and volumes (a Hufflepuff student thought by screaming the spell on top of his lungs would make the spell more effective, only to earn a good scolding from Professor McGonagall).

“Alright,” Harry breaks his silence after all this while, “Let’s focus now.”

Draco glances at Harry with furrowed face. He likes to see the outcome of Harry’s attempt before he makes his own – for safety purposes, he likes to believe himself.

“You remember this, Harry. Your old man has taught you this. You know it all too well. You just need to practice it now,” Harry tries to psyche himself as he readies his wand in his hand while his eyes firmly planted on the match stick before him. Draco watches from his seat silently.

Once he feels much confident, he starts chanting the spell properly, down to the right intonation, and flicks his wand to the wooden match. And to both Harry’s and Draco’s surprise, the brown match stick gradually but steadily turns itself into a silver, pointy needle right before their eyes.

Draco can’t help himself but to utter “Wicked” involuntarily but loudly, loud enough to catch the attention of Professor McGonagall who has been eyeing her students like a hawk.

“Attention, class! It seems Mr Potter has succeed in turning his match into a needle. 10 points for Slytherin,” she calmly claims, but this time with a sincere warm smile given to Harry solely. Harry smiles back, feeling contented himself for his achievement.

Suddenly, Harry remembers the words his father had told him the night before his departure to Hogwarts. “And there’s Professor McGonagall. A good teacher, but a nasty one if you step on her wrong foot,” James explained to Harry, “Hard to impress, especially in your first year. So, don’t need to pressure yourself when it comes to her. All I could do to grab her attention in my first year was hiding Mrs Norris in the girl’s toilet.”

In your face, old man, Harry proudly mocks James Potter in his head. A soft, smug smile dons on his lips.

[dalekofchaos]

Is there any fanfic that has Slytherin!Harry, Ravenclaw!Hermione and Hufflepuff!Ron that is not Drarry centric and just focuses on the trio in different houses and how the story would be different?

[accio-library]

Hello, Do you know any fics where one of the golden trio (or golden quartet should I say.) Is a hufflepuff?

Hey! Here’s what I found for you:

AO3 tag for Hufflepuff Harry Potter

AO3 tag for Hufflepuff Ron Weasley

AO3 tag for Hufflepuff Hermione Granger

And here are two short Hufflepuff!Harry fics I found:

Hufflepuff by CharlesHenri

“An accident on the Victoria Line and an overeager school teacher change Harry Potter's life. A tale of butterflies flapping their wings and snowballs starting from pebbles.OS, what would it take for Harry not to be in Gryffindor?“

Different House, Different Home (series) by Magi_Silverwolf

“Gryffindor for the brave; Ravenclaw for the wise; Slytherin for the clever; Hufflepuff for the hardworking.Where do the queasy go?“

[aesthetics-for-harry-potter]

Moodboard of Hufflepuff!Ron Weasley.

Requested by: anon.

[maskedantihero]

You’re A Slytherin, Harry

It was a disaster sitting in a class next to an even surlier Draco Malfoy who kept on throwing dirty glares (and occasional hissing) at Hermione Granger throughout Charms class; Harry believes it is a lost cause to try reasoning Draco from hating someone just because she is a Muggle-born genius. It runs in his blood. You can’t do anything about that now, can we?

Once they are out of the class, Harry can feel his soul creeping out of his body, very slowly and yet very painfully; feeling extremely drained after sitting through a whole period next to a very negative energy. He is convinced that dark circles have formed on his eyes and his cheeks became hollow. However, he still tries his best to drag his mate away from the class, and much further away from the Granger.

“Stop pushing me, you twat!” bellows Draco as he’s kept being shoved by the elbow by Harry. Harry stares at him in shock – only because Harry is impressed by Draco’s colourful vocabulary. Draco perceives his reaction the other way, though. “… Sorry,” he quietly apologizes, but enough for Harry to hear. Harry smirks.

“It ain’t my fault! You were the one who was being a complete arse in the Charms class. You deserve all the shoving, if you ask me.”

“What?! What did I do?” Draco jeers. His expression shows that he is genuinely confused by Harry’s unwarranted angst.

Harry rolls his eyes. It is time for him to give up in trying to put some sense into the Malfoy’s head. He knows it has become pointless at this point. “What’s our next class?” he asks after purposely sighing loudly next to Draco, changing the subject altogether.

Draco glares sharply, he doesn’t appreciate Harry’s attitude towards him, yet he still complies with Harry’s enquiry. “Transfiguration – with Professor McGonagall.”

Harry froze, causing a few first year Hufflepuffs behind him to collide into him. “McGonagall?” he asks, undisturbed by the dirty looks casted by passing students who are in hurry to get to their next class but being halted by a pair of Slytherins.

“Yeah.”

“On our first day?”

“Obviously,” sneers Draco, smiling triumphantly as if he has just humiliated Harry in front of the school in the Great Hall.

“Bloody hell …” Harry sighs, wrecking his brain to come up with a good excuse to miss the class. “I don’t think she likes me … ” Harry whispers closely in Draco’s ear, only to get a sarcastic scoff from his mate.

“I don’t think any teachers like you by now,” he answers.

Harry groans deeply. A troubled look is plastered on his face. With all the might he could gather, Harry drags his two feet unwillingly towards the fretful class.

--------

First rule of Transfiguration class: Anything can be transfigured into anything else.

It is safe to say that you can never expect the expected in Transfiguration class. Although Harry has never sat in a Transfiguration class before, but based on his experiences with James at home, it is better to behave appropriately while keeping a lookout for the teacher, especially if that teacher happens to be Professor McGonagall.

The classroom is eerily quiet. Everyone is transparently scared of Professor McGonagall. Nobody dares to make a noise while waiting for her obediently in their seats.

When Harry arrived at the class, Professor McGonagall was nowhere to be found. The only thing they saw upon arrival is a cat, sitting proudly on top of the teacher’s table, staring at each and every one of them with judging eyes.

It is easy to see that Draco is becoming more impatient by the second – his face is almost flushed red as he turns to Harry. “Where the hell is the professor?” he angrily asks despite he’s whispering.

Harry tries to ignore him. He doesn’t want to be in Professor McGonagall’s bad book. He believes he doesn’t have the luxury to be on her bad side. Don’t drag me along with you, ya git, he scorns in his heart, pretending to find the classroom ceiling fascinating.

“The professor is here, Mr Malfoy,” a voice suddenly speaks, turning every student in class 1 into stiff mannequins as every eye is now on Professor McGonagall who appears magically at the front of the class.

Harry has suspected the house cat to actually be the professor. She wouldn’t keep a pet even if it’s a Christmas gift, he makes his own conclusion. And to his worst nightmare, Professor McGonagall stops right at the table where he and Draco are seated. She looks calm and gentle, with a soft smile on her thin lips, but Harry knows that’s only the calm before the storm. He begins cursing his fate for meeting and having Draco as his friend.

Draco gulps nervously. His face is even whiter than before, much to Harry’s astonishment. Professor McGonagall continues to smile at the anxious Slytherin. “I expect better attitude next time, Mr Malfoy, or I shall happily deduct points from your House,” says Professor McGonagall.

“Yes, ma’am,” Draco croaks. It takes all Harry’s strength not to laugh.

[maetowle]

I've just started working on a Harry Potter fanfic where the Trio is Sorted into different Houses, and three chapters in, I've realized just how much work this is going to be.

Why did I think this was a good idea?