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Chapter 3 : Île-de-France
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Heaving a contented sigh, you lean back in your chair. Your optimism about tonight was well-founded, for the feast seems to be a success. It warms your heart to watch the young pupils forming instant friendships in the glow of candlelight. You chuckle to yourself at their mirth.
Somewhere there is music playing, a lively dance tune heard by none else. But how could you fabricate the harmonies that ring in your ears tonight? People from different backgrounds have come together, uniting under a common banner, and it is the music of humanity that you hear. It is precisely this music that will allow the school to prosper and persevere, even in the darkest of times.
Your golden hair and sunny demeanor belie your troubled past. Although you walk in the light, you have known darkness. Not so many years ago, when you were as young as your students, your father and mother burned at the stake—she for practicing magic, he for loving her. Your world was set ablaze by the flames of hatred. Before the others could come after you, you fled the broad valleys of your homeland, seeking asylum with those who shared your odd powers.
It is by circumstance that your character was tested, but when darkness could have consumed you, you chose the side of light. Never could you allow yourself to be hateful in return for hatred. Nonmagical folk are human beings, not demons. Their only fault was that they feared what they could not understand. So, although you sometimes wept in the dead of night for all that you lost, you transcended your pain and forgave. There were magic folk everywhere who faced death at the hands of their nonmagical counterparts, and regardless of their background, you accepted them. Fighting fire with fire would only lead to the ruin of all that was still good and pure in the world.
Salazar Slytherin sneered when you, the youngest and shyest of the four, put forth your intention to accept any witch or wizard regardless of parentage. You stood your ground, stalwart as a badger because you refused to succumb to bigotry. All should be welcome at the school who wished to learn and who sought the company of similar people. It would only lead to trouble if none but pureblooded wizards were accepted as pupils. Now, surveying your little bunch of students sporting armbands of yellow, you feel justified in your beliefs.
As the sleepy youths exit the Great Hall, you can hear a subtle dissonance in the tacit music. Tensions between the students have yet to arise, but soon there will be skirmishes. It is only to be expected, when each instructor prizes such different values.
You are the force that will hold people together in times of trouble. Although you are perceived as naïve and young, you are the strongest of the four in your morals and the most dedicated to the cause for which you fight.
You are loyal, Helga Hufflepuff.
A/N: Third chapter, yay! As always, J.K. Rowling is responsible for creating these awesome characters. Darius Milhaud is responsible for writing "Suite française," which inspired me while I wrote.
Just a side note about the "armbands" that the students are wearing: I imagine that, since Hogwarts is in its very early years, the uniforms are slightly different than the ones from more recent times. :)
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