Tickling a Sleeping Dragon: The Beginning

Helga Hufflepuff scurried across the valley, her plump hand grasping a wicker basket that was filled with fruits and herbs. Her sapphire eyes danced with joy at the thought of the news she just learned, and it took all of her willpower to not charm her shoes so that they would make her move faster. As a seventeen year old witch she had a lot to learn, and since there was no one to teach her magic save for her parents, her knowledge was limited.

The young witch burst through the front door of her cottage, her cheeks flushed and eyes alight.
“Mother! Father!” she jittered, running around. “Did you hear?! Did you hear the news? Oh, the wonderful glorious news?!”

Harmona Hufflepuff shuffled out of the one and only bedroom in the house, looking weary. Her stout, plump frame was nearly hidden by her thick, curly black locks. “Yes, Helga, dear?” she sighed, staring off into the distance.

“There’s going to be a festival!” Helga screeched, her hands flying everywhere.

“Helga…the valley always has festivals…wha’s so diff’rent about it this time ‘round?” her father’s booming voice resounded, and was followed by a strong, lion of a man with fiery red hair.

The young witch rolled her eyes, “But this festival is for…y’know…magic folk.”

At this statement, Harmona’s eyes lighted with a new, youthful flame, and her spouse roared with laughter and joy. “There’s others like us, ‘Mona!” he cheered, raising his fists into the air.

“How did you know about this, Helga?” her mother pried, seeming to want gossip more than anything.

The witch leaned in carefully, pretending to be secretive. “Well…I heard from Olga who heard from Gertrude who heard from Augustus who heard from the Ravenclaw family himself!”

Hargis Hufflepuff straightened up, his smile almost as broad as his shoulders. “Tha’s mah girl! Yore gunna show all them other magic folk how us valley dwellers handle ourselves! Yore the best there is!”

His daughter blushed, taken aback by her father’s compliment. “Not really. I just am good at cooking. Speakin’ of which, I have the herbs I needed for tonight’s supper. We’re going to be eatin’ like royalty tonight!”

“Oh my stars, I’m so proud of you, Helga,” her mother beamed.

Helga giggled, and walked into the kitchen to prepare supper. She was so happy, it felt like she could sprout wings and fly clear to France. Out of her whole village, she was the best at charm-work and transfiguration spells. Being self-taught provided the teenager with both disappointment and insight, and she couldn’t wait to learn from all sorts of witches and wizards.