Hufflepuff Table

[Wilber Winterbottom]

For those who belong in Hufflepuff House, in the middle of the Great Hall is where your table awaits. Gold banners containing an embroidered black badger float above the polished table in honour of the loyal Helga Hufflepuff. Already placed on the tables are silver plates with accompanying cutlery and goblets. All that is missing right now are the mountains of food and pitchers containing your favourite beverages.

Though your stomach might be growling as you take a seat on one of the long benches next to the table, it is important to not get hangry -- gnawing your arm away or jabbing your fork repeatedly on the surface of the table will do no good whatsoever. Give everyone some time to get settled in and wait for Headmaster Winterbottom to deliver his speech. Keep yourself preoccupied by catching up with your fellow housemates or those who are visiting from the other tables until it is time to sink your teeth into the hearty and delicious meal prepared by the house-elves.

[FearlessLeader19]

Having finished her Memory Book entry, Dynah happily made her way to her House table for her final ever feast. That was a sad thought but she was going to make the best of it. On the way over, she stopped at the Ravenclaw table to say hi to the girlfriend. Tamara more than understood that she wanted to sit at her own table that evening. Dy suspected that Tam would join her later in the evening. After squeezing the Claw's hand, Dy was finally able to grab a spot at the Puff table.

She really thought she would have been more broken up about departing but since she wasn't, the Hufflepuff had done a little reflecting. She atributed the feelings to her excitement over her budding career. But right now? Right now Dy was using the moment to replay certain events that had occured in her life during the course of her time at the Castle; the mostly good and a handful of bad.

[sweetpinkpixie]

Nyle lingered at the edge of the Great Hall for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the golden candlelight drifting above and the bursts of Gryffindor colors dancing upon the banners scattered in neat rows along the enchanted ceiling. There was a kind of shimmer in the air...a weight of endings and beginnings. The Hufflepuff table was already buzzing with laughter and stories tumbling out too fast to catch, but instead of rushing in, he paused, taking it all in. It was the last time these particular stories, these particular feelings, and these particular faces would come together in just this way and that alone made it worth the extra time to soak it all up.

This term had been… full. That was the best word for it the second year could think of. There had been hippogriffs, OF COURSE, and Waterwings most of all, with his regal feathered presence and those impossibly deep eyes. Nyle could still remember how nervous he’d been the first time they met, how he'd bowed, heart rattling against his ribs, only for Waterwings to return the gesture like it was the most natural thing in the world. And then there’d been the brushes (testing them one by one, as if he were choosing a wand for himself and not something to groom a hippogriff), the quiet moments in the pastures, learning to notice things like feather wear and shifts in gait, just like how his mum, in her work as a physiatrist, taught him to look for subtle signs of pain in people recovering from Dark magic. He’d thought of her a lot this term—especially when reflecting on how living things change. The idea of the older Hippogriffs leaving for the Atreyu-Rehman Reserve still didn't upset him. It just seemed… right. Like a seed finally growing into something bigger than its pot.

Just like the seventh years who needed bigger pots than the castle could provide them.

He tucked those thoughts away as he moved towards the Hufflepuff table, sliding into a spot with a little bounce in his step. Fourth place in the House Cup and Quidditch Cup? He wasn’t bothered but he wasn't exactly the most competitive spirited kid either. They’d all tried their best, you know? Every quiz, every match, every moment cheering from the stands. And, well, they’d come in third in Gobstones, which was something! Nyle had worked hard for that one, even if his technique was still a bit messy sometimes but he was improving every practice and every match under the guidance of his teammates and especially under the wing of Raven Snowpear. He was proud of their team even if he wasn't robust about it. Quiet pride counted too, especially when it came in the form of homemade hand salves! Using Raven's favorite scene of bergamot and clove, Nyle had blended calendula, comfrey, and beeswax for soothing post-match skin regime —especially after the occasional splash of stinger gunk. Warm, citrusy-spiced aroma that lingered just long enough to feel like encouragement in a jar and also served as a reminder to just how amazing their captain had been. He was going to miss her SO much.

And speaking of people he would miss, his eyes landed on Dynah already at the table, glowing with that golden kind of goodbye light and e hurried over with a grin while holding out a tiny glass jar wrapped in ribbon the color of buttercup petals. "I made you something," he said, cheeks immediately a little pink. "It’s a soothing salve—safe for everything from bruised hands to sore hearts. All the herbs are from the greenhouse, or the forest, erm, just the outskirts of the forest… and there’s a bit of chamomile, marigold, and hawthorn in it. You know, for calm and courage." He paused, thumb brushing a corner of the ribbon. "It’s not much, but… it felt wrong not to make something to mark it. You leaving, I mean. Not in a sad way," he added quickly, "just… like when a dandelion seed finally takes flight so it can grow somewhere else. It’s meant to happen. Still special though." He looked up at her, eyes earnest. "You’ve done a lot of growing here. It shows. Er...I mean...I've only known you two of your terms here but, um, it still shows even then. You’re going to do really brilliant things."

[Zoe]

Ousmane sat a little straighter than usual at the Hufflepuff table, the warmth of the feast wrapping around him like a cosy cloak. The Great Hall shimmered in Gryffindor red and gold—House Cup champions, apparently—and the room thrummed with laughter and talk of summer activities.

He didn't mind the noise. Not tonight. He, as he made his way to the Hufflepuff table, could grasp a decent amount of what was being said around him now, which still felt like a small kind of magic.

Adjusting to a new school and new country had been... a lot. Casting spells with a wand (he still preferred to do without one), navigating lessons and homework purely in English, figuring out how to say 'peppermint toad' without tripping over the words, etc. But now, at the end of it all, with the promise of roast chicken on his plate and summer holiday moments away, Ousmane felt proud. Tired, but proud.

Nevertheless, he was going home soon. Back to Côte d'Ivoire for the summer. Back to his cousins, the African mahogany trees, the warm evenings, watching the streelers, fwoopers, and erumpents in the wild. He couldn't wait to tell his friends everything about Hogwarts: the talking portraits, the moving staircases, even their strange rules about Animagus training.

Taking a quick glance at the enchanted ceiling—clear and starry, just like the skies back home—he smiled to himself. "Nice evening for final feast," he said aloud to no one in particular.

[PhoenixRising]

Emma was feeling defeated. She had never really been too competitive when it came to the house cup race, but seeing Hufflepuff come in dead last - even if it was only a small margin of gemstones less than Ravenclaw, felt heartbreaking. And then quidditch on top of that. Her performance was all over the place. She could put the blame on her budding romance, but that was recent. She could also put the blame on her OWLs, but well if she had, Hufflepuff would have performed better in the house cup race. Right?

Instead she just sat at the table, trying to think of all she could have done differently. Of where her flying could have improved. Of where her studies were lacking. Who was Emma Montmorency?

She tried instead to think of the new (and old) friends she had made this year. Maybe that was her legacy. She wasn't to be the smartest, the most athletic of the year. But she was to be a friend. Loyal to all. Fighting for justice for all. Loving her neighbors.

She glanced over at Nyle gifting Dynah a salve - that was actually really sweet of him. And cute his planting metaphors.

And there was Ousmane, a slightly younger puff who was new this year. "How'd you like your first year at Hogwarts?" She asked in making small talk. She hadn't the chance to talk too much to him, but it was enough to know he wasn't local to the Scotland winters. "You going home for the summer?" Wherever that is, but maybe he'd enlighten her as to that information.

[FearlessLeader19]

One of the aspects of her Hogwarts life that Dynah would miss the most was the battle for the three Cups. She truly enjoyed that, even if they didn’t win one or the other. Like Nyle, she thought it was important that they simply do their best collectively as the Badger House. So she was quite at peace with where Hufflepuff stood when it came to the Championships this term. There was always next term to try again; it was just a pity she wouldn’t be there to assist.

Speaking of fellow Hufflepuff! A baby badger {since Nyle was still a second year, in her eyes, he was a baby - a most precious one too!} had approached her bearing a gift. Dy’s heart immediately melted, and as Nyle explained what the jar held plus the reasoning behind his choice of gift, her eyes went misty with emotion. Even before the explanation was finished, Dy had collected the jar. She held it securely, carefully; the fleeting thought that it would be an absolute crime to undo such neat and colourful wrapping crossed her mind. “This is one of the most thoughtful gifts I’ve ever received, Nyle. Thank you! This will be especially helpful to me after I’m done with stage performances. Those violin strings can sometimes be painful, especially after prolonged playing.” The calluses on her palms were testament to that. “I really love that comparison. Hearing that, I know it’ll make graduating somewhat easier.” Dy smiled, thinking how much Nyle reminded her of Ary when he was younger. “You don’t know how much I appreciate that, Nyle. I know you’ll also continue to grow to be the best version of yourself. Just be sure to keep out of the Forest and the way of its creatures, at least if you’re not accompanied by a professor.” Dy gave the second year a slightly stern look but smiled immediately afterward. “I’ll send you tickets to my concerts, I promise! I hope I’ll see you at least a few times.”

There were even more Hufflepuffs arriving, and along with them came Ousmane. He had been a delight to have over the last year since she loved seeing him adjusting to the English culture. Not to mention Dy did enjoy listening to his accent and tales from his home country. The comment made her laugh. “It certainly is! Though I hope you’re referring to the seventh years’ final evening and not yours?” As far as she knew, Ousmane liked it here and would be back for another term. Emma's demeanour concerned her, however. She wasn’t sure if there was anything in particular going on in the younger girl’s life or if was due to the House Cup situation. “Anything you want to talk about?” Dy asked softly.

[sweetpinkpixie]

Nyle’s face flushed a warm, flustered pink as Dynah accepted the salve, and his fingers instinctively twisted at the hem of his robe in quiet glee. She’d called it not just thoughtful, but one of the most thoughtful ever! He didn’t think his chest could quite contain the pleased fizz that bubbled within, like wild mint steeped in sunshine. "Oh! Well, I mean—I just thought maybe you’d need something after all that beautiful music-making. I—er—overheard a couple of practices when I happened by the music room and, um, also of course the times orchestra performed," he said sheepishly, his voice barely above a chirp. "Violin fingers deserve proper salves. Like, heroic ones. Because, well, violin music feels like how flowers sound when they bloom...and people who play it must have hearts tuned just right to help the world feel softer. That kind of heroic presence." He bounce a little in his seat, hands now shoved into his pockets to find something there that could occupy his fingers and ground him appropriately. "And I really hope it helps! I tried to make it a bit like—like how soil feels when it's just rained, but smells like summer. Y'know, grounded but sort of... bright?" He mimed a sprouting plant with his hands, then quickly tucked them back into his pockets when he realized he looked a bit silly.

As for promising not to go into the Forest...well...er...he didn't want to lie to her, nor did he want to be a disappointment, so he simply nodded his head to acknowledge the request. The mention of concert tickets made him light up all over again. "I’ll keep them in my herb journal," he promised brightly. "Right next to my sketches of Waterwings. Maybe he’d like violin music too—he seems very sophisticated." His voice turned wistful for a second, eyes glancing down the table before looking back at her and just about to dive into another thought when he heard a soft voice nearby say, 'Nice evening for final feast.' His head turned instinctively, pale curls shifting as he caught sight of Ousmane, a fellow Hufflepuff he’d admired from afar all term. Not just for his wandless spells he glimpsed from time to time (which Nyle found absolutely brilliant) or his calm way of moving through the castle...but because Ousmane seemed like someone who listened deeply to the world around him. Like Nyle did with plants. With feelings.

So, fueled by that tiny end-of-term bravery that sometimes blooms when time is almost out, Nyle scooted down the bench toward his older peer. Palms to the surface of the table, hoisting him along, Nyle was suddenly overcome with the heavy of uncertainty in his own chest, like soil that's too damp for seeds to sprout. He felt like a moth lost in the wrong greenhouse, and the more the sensation caused his heart to race the more distant he felt from it. The blond quickly pulled his hands back from the tabletop, a flicker of surprise flashing across his face as his bright blue eyes swept the room. They landed on Emma—familiar, yet wearing a quiet sort of sadness. Feeling as though he’d accidentally stumbled into a moment meant for someone else, the second-year cleared his throat and redirected his attention to the older student, new to the Badger den this term.

"It is," he said, cheeks a little pink but eyes wide with friendly intent.He paused for a moment, lips moving silently as he rehearsed the gentle phrases Iris had helped him practice in hopes of greeting Ousmane in the language that felt most like home to him. Completely unaware that he was walking straight into the equivalent of a flesh-eating shrub. "Boon soarry. Ju suuway bet et je ne porte pas de calzon!" Which he though meant, good evening! I hope we can hang out more next term and maybe be pen pals over the summer...when in reality, once one got through his terrible French accent, he had just called himself an idiot and proclaimed he was not wearing underpants.