OFF TO BE THE WIZARD

If I’d gone to Hogwarts, I’d be a Hufflepuff. Just the SOUND of it is cushy and sorta soft and low-key, with a light, gentle touch on the wand and a bland taste in Spells. None of that dark whooshing and zooming for me---no lightning or explosions or crackling whizbangs to disturb the air. And no intrigues or plans or sabotage or deepening plots, no bubbling cauldrons or deadly spells. All the potions would pour out delicious, tasting of whatever the person imagines them to; they'd be bracing and beneficial, the spells soothing and restful and kind, and views of the future would evoke naught but happy anticipation.

I’d do the mooshy stuff, featuring love potions and happy charms; I think my chosen talent would be putting grumpy or unhappy folks into the palest of euphoric trances, never again to do a mean thing or speak an unkind word, but to think truly that they'd always been that way.
My owl would be a tiny, twittery one, for small happy messages on silky paper, and my chosen pet a plum-hued Lady Spider with soft silver fur and emerald eyes.

I’d have graduated with a Major in easy, whispery spells like Silence and Moonbeams and Babysmiles, charms like Happy Birthday and Good Morning and You’re Beautiful, with a Minor in Befriending Fairies and all sorts of other cushiony, feather-light marvels.

Oh, I LOVE the flying---but mine would be the sissy sort, very short trips on a big comfy wide broom without bristles. Mine would have a pillow effect, and the really low heights of my travel would afford soft landings should I daydream or have one of my bumbly Aunt Clara moments. And my flights would always take me over flowerbeds, Fairy Dells and waterfalls.

Yep---a Soft Magician; that would be me. I’d probably grow old as one of the squeaky-voiced old Lady Wizards who haunt Rare Book Stores and Candyshops, Estate Sales and Charity Auctions, Egg Hunts and Family Reunions, just out of view, just beyond sound, but there and ready to preserve the Peace and Tranquility of the place, with no kerfuffle to the day and no one the wiser.

And YOUR House? What would YOU whisper to the Sorting Hat?