Over the passing days, Rebecca studied her books, and, quickly enough, the day of the Sorting came. Students swarmed the castle. Rebecca had recently come up with a last name.
All the first-years were bundled up in a crowd, while all the other students sat at their rightful house tables. Names of the first years began to be called in alphabetical order, and one by one, each student would be placed under the sorting hat, being sorted into their proper house. It seemed to happen faster than she wanted, but Rebecca's name was called.
"Arlayne, Rebecca," called Professor McGonagall.
Rebecca began to walk up to the Sorting Hat hesitantly; she was just realizing how many students had their eyes on her, waiting, and watching. She started to walk faster, and, soon she was in front of the stool that held the Sorting Hat. McGonagall picked up the Hat and as Rebecca sat down, she placed it on her head. At once everything was silent for Rebecca, and all was blurry. She thought that it was just her about to faint, but it turned out that it was the magic of the Hat.
"You have much in your mind, little one. Too much for one of your age," came a voice. It wasn't high or low-pitched, but it was distant, and Rebecca knew that it was the Sorting Hat speaking to her.
"What do you mean?" Rebecca asked timidly. Her question was, of course, through mind, for there seemed to be a kind of barrier that allowed her only to speak in that manner.
"I know what you are, little one," answered the Hat.
"So then, you are a true telepath. I am indeed, not eleven years of age, on my planet. But on this planet, I am. But is that important?"
"Not really. Now, I will search your mind and sort you into a house."
She said nothing, and waited only for the hat to sort through her memories.
The Sorting Hat searched her mind for her qualities. Once that was done, though, it didn't know where to put her. It thought over it for a couple minutes, and then after what felt like hours, the Hat decided the best place for Rebecca.
"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the Sorting Hat.
The staff and students clapped and the Hufflepuff house welcomed her to their table. Rebecca silently watched the rest of the sorting, never loosing a comment, although she was tempted to a few times.
After the ceremony was finished, Dumbledore stood up and the hall was silent. The Professor looked over the crowd, and said, "Welcome, students, to another year of Hogwarts, or, to the first-years, to your first year of Hogwarts," he chuckled a bit before continuing, "I would like to give you a few notices. Our Defense against the Dark Arts Teacher for this year will be Professor Quirrel," he gestured to a pale man wearing a purple turban and black robes. "The Third Floor Corridor on the left-hand side is out of bounds to any who do not wish to die a painful death," everyone knew that he was strictly saying not to go there, or else you could be expelled, unless of course, you died first.
"Anyone out of bed after curfew will receive detention and lose house points. The Forbidden Forest is strictly forbidden," a couple of people giggled a little, and Dumbledore finished, "That is all, you may eat now," he sat down and on every plate there was food. Every bite was a different flavor, and Rebecca cherished every one. Luckily, there was plenty of food; but even so, all the dishes at the Hufflepuff table were relieved of the food on them, while the other tables still had many plates untouched and yet more plates that contained half-eaten meals.
Dumbledore clapped and dessert appeared on the now-clean plates. The same thing happened as at dinner: while three tables had many, many plates left untouched or half-eaten, the Hufflepuff table's plates were empty, and although Rebecca showed no sign of having eaten most of the food, she had.
Dumbledore got up again, and said through the silence, "You may now go to your Common Rooms; please follow a Prefect of your house, first-years," and he sat back down.
Rebecca looked around for someone with yellow-trim robes wearing a prefect badge, which McGonagall had told her about. Almost instantly she found one, and ran up to them. "You are a prefect, right?" asked Rebecca.
"Yes," answered the startled Prefect, who, just then began to wave an arm in the air, calling, "This way Hufflepuff!" A Prefect on the other side of the table was doing the same.
When all the first-year Hufflepuffs' attention was grabbed, the two Prefects turned around and started to walk out of the Hall, with the first-years of their house trailing behind them.
A/N Please note that only the story itself, Rebecca, and the Prefect belong to me, and the rest belongs to J. K. Rowling.