Harry and Open
He had no idea what a blanket fort was, other than what it obviously sounded like. He certainly didn't realise it would be some kind of shared cultural reference that everyone would get but him. And he wasn't exactly sure what it was supposed to accomplish. What did 'emotionally safe' even mean? If you weren't physically safe, how could you be any other type of safe?
He slipped in the door to Hufflepuff, and beheld the lumpy-looking structure. Bits of it glowed like there were lights inside. He could make out the occasional silhouette, the occasional ripple of fabric that indicated people moving around inside. He barely even knew any Hufflepuffs, anyway, so he wasn't sure why he was there. He hadn't expected something so unthreatening-looking to give him so much anxiety. And he wasn't sure where the way in was, or if he'd find himself interrupting something he shouldn't.
He was about to leave, his hand on the door behind him. When he thought it was ridiculous for a Gryffindor to be scared by a bunch of Hufflepuff bedding. He took a tentative step forward. "Um, hello?"