The First Sighting
The first time Hermione remembers seeing it happen, she was a child full of wonder. And terror. And excitement. Professor McGonagall was visiting her home to tell Hermione and her parents that the young child had magical powers, and that she was there to invite to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The older witch then proceeded to demonstrate some simple transfiguration magic, to the delight, awe, and shock of the Granger family.
Hermione was a precocious young child, curious and devoted to learning more about anything that caught her eye. But that day, she was overwhelmed. The tall, imposing witch (Hermione was shocked that there were women who willingly called themselves that!) with the long black robes, and the tightly pulled-back black hair in a severe bun… Not to mention the things the lady was doing in their living room! Hermione could barely take it all in, and a large part of her mind was willing her to reject it all and flee to her bedroom.
But the older woman saw. She saw how uncomfortable Hermione was becoming, how her curiousity was quickly becoming fear, and she was prepared. This was a normal part of each first visit to a muggle household, and she knew what to do.
Professor McGonagall ceased the magic show, quickly turning everything back to rights, and crouched down to be at eye level with the child. Hermione quickly turned her eyes to the carpet, too shy to look the incredible woman in the eye. But Prof. McGonagall was patient, and when she whispered quietly and soothingly, "Hermione, child, look at me," the young girl did.
She saw an older woman looking back at her through imposing spectacles, reminding her of her strictest grade-school teacher. Hermione's intimidation must have been obvious, even she could see it in the glimmer of her reflection on those lenses. Hermione heard the older woman give a small sigh. Then the professor looked down, carefully removed her glasses, stowed them in her robes, and looked up again.
Hermione does not remember what the professor said then. She remembers the soothing tone of voice, and she remembers nodding along, but mostly she remembers her eyes. Those eyes. Deep green, the color she had never seen in a person's eyes, and so comforting. So knowing, like she understood everything Hermione was feeling before even Hermione could understand herself. That she would be able to see, always, how Hermione was feeling and would help guide her through whatever was to come. In a daze, Hermione agreed to become a member of the next class at Hogwarts.
Later Hermione felt a bit duped. She was still overwhelmed, but the comforting presence of the witch professor was now gone, and she and her parents were muddling along like the blind through a maze. Which also might have dragons and giant carnivorous plants, apparently.
Prof. McGonagall had left their home that evening after attempting to detail all the things that they would need to do to get ready for the school year. She had given them a long scroll with this information as well, and Hermione and her parents had made a mess of the kitchen trying to read that long thing. At one point, her father was reading and taking notes at the top of the scroll, up near the salt and pepper, while her mother was kneeling on the floor doing the same thing to a bit of the parchment that had rolled under one of the chairs. Eventually her mother and father had worked in tandem to transcribe the scroll's information onto the computer, printing out more than 7 pages of information that made very little sense to the inexperienced muggles. Hermione had escaped at some point to hunker down in her room with "Hogwarts: A History", another gift from the tall professor.
When they had reconvened over dinner, they were able to sort of some of the details, but agreed that the rest would have to be dealt with in a manner they liked to call "Adventure, Meet the Grangers!" Usually this title was reserved for family vacations to foreign places, or spontaneous new experiences in the city. This year it would also apply to shopping for school books.
Diagon Alley (the bookstore, Flourish and Blotts!), Kings Cross Station – Platform 9 and 3/4, the awkward (and interminable) train ride through the countryside, during which she tried to make friends with those boys and failed miserably, and the boat crossing to the castle – Hermione barely survived it all, feeling on-edge and about to cry and laugh at the same time. She chattered on to anyone who would listen about all that she was learning, trying to cover up the numerous small and large things she didn't know. She had no idea how any of it WORKED, and it didn't matter what the books said – none of them were specifically a guide for muggles, and she was terrified there might not even be flushing toilets. WHY WAS THERE NO GUIDE BOOK? Because, Hermione realized, she'd much prefer to be sitting in some quiet corner reading THAT book rather than living this adventure alone.
And she felt totally alone. She knew no one except for Prof. McGonagall, and while she was momentarily buoyed by seeing her at the school doors, ushering in the hordes of first year students, Hermione quickly realized that she didn't know THIS Prof. McGonagall. The comforting woman who'd looked deep in her eyes to reassure her, the friendly intellectual who had impressed her parents – that was not the same woman as this severe and succinct disciplinarian. Hermione's one grasp for something to soothe her, to ground her, was lost. Feeling adrift at sea, tossed by the waves of children and emotion, Hermione entered the Great Hall.