Chapter Eight: I Don’t Know Where I Belong
Straight after my morning classes I marched down to the kitchens and tapped out “Helga Hufflepuff” on a certain barrel. The wooden barrel slid softly to the side, revealing the Hufflepuff Common Room behind it.
Even though it was in the kitchen, on the lowest floor, there was plenty of light. Small, round windows were positioned several feet above my head, and let in an abundance of sparkling noon light. Ivy and other tendrils were coming down from the ceiling, their leafy green leaves quietly whispering to each other.
I passed the Hufflepuffs who sat around the tiny fire in small, worn, yellow couches. I glowered at the comfortableness of all of it. My fellow housemates loved the Common Room, and how comfortable it was. I found it disgusting, with the beaten and fading fabrics combined with lumpy couch couches.
This is no comparison to home, I thought. There, we had beautiful furniture that was comfortable to sit on, but didn’t look like a Muggle had thrown it away first. The Common Room wasn’t the only thing which made me miss Malfoy Manor. At least there I had somewhere to hide from my constantly sneering grandparents, whereas here everyone was looking at me with contempt in their eyes.
I sat down on a small brown stool, which painfully reminded me of the Sorting stool. I sighed, receiving dark looks worthy of Lucias and Narcissa Malfoy from the other Hufflepuffs. My chest tightened, and I looked at the yellow and black notice board to keep them from seeing the tears emerging in my eyes.
Stop! I commanded myself. Real Malfoys don’t cry!
But I wasn’t a Malfoy. Not a real one, at least. Then voices rushed over me. At first I tired not to remember them, but the weigh and truth that they held overwhelmed my feeble defenses.
“You are a disgrace to the Malfoy name.”
“Ashamed to have you as an heir…”
“You Death Eater! Where’s your Dark Mark?”
“Malfoys don’t belong here. Go back to Slytherin with your evil sister, where you actually fit in.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the other Hufflepuffs, who laughed like they had no cares in the world. What they didn’t understand, I thought, is that I don’t want to be everything they tell me I am.
Being a Malfoy was horrible. Everywhere that you went in the Wizarding world, people would stare and whisper about your heritage. In the past Hazel and I could face the challenges of being a Death Eater’s children together, but now that she was in Slytherin we barely ever saw each other.
Aside from detentions, I thought, breaking into a slight grin. Nott, Hazel, and I had a detention on Sunday for attacking another student (Nott and Hazel), and threatening others with a wand (me).
I shook my head from my thoughts and looked at the notice board that I faced. Hufflepuffs, I read on a slip of paper fastened to it, are determined, loyal, and appreciate fair play.
I’m not any of that, I thought gloomily. Looking up, through the small windows, I saw the early noon sun, which did nothing to raise my mood.
I shouldn’t have messed with my destiny, I wailed inside. The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, but I choose Hufflepuff.
I knew that was a mistake.
For when I looked around at the people who were supposed to be like me, who were supposed to be my housemates, I saw nothing but menace in their gazes. I didn’t know where I belonged in this house of Hufflepuff.
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