Dedication: This is a birthday gift for my friend ES, who requested a piece about Hermione. Sorry it took so song! This is sort of a character study, referencing events throughout the series.
"Definition"
Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will. ~ Romans 12:2, New International Version
One thing that Hermione found the Muggle and magical worlds had in common was the solace of libraries. They were places where it was alright to be alone, or to be in company but not expected to speak much. And better than anything else was the potential they held, the possibilities their books offered.
Reading calmed Hermione when she was upset, comforted her when she was lonely, and entertained her when she was bored. She was relieved that even Hogwarts' library had ordinary dictionaries, enabling her to continue a habit she had begun in primary school, memorizing definitions and storing away words for future usage.
Anathema. Noun. Something or someone that one vehemently dislikes. It was, ironically, a beautiful word for a repulsive person. After hearing Ron Weasley's rude but accurate assessment of her personality and social prospects, Hermione realized with horror that the term might be applicable to her. Though she sometimes acted as though she was above being concerned about others' opinions—especially those of people she herself disliked—the truth was that she did care what people thought of her. At the least, she didn't want people to despise her, as he seemed to.
Hermione wasn't sure which trend had come first: whether a lack of friends had made her turn to books, or her love for books took priority over making friends. It was a dragon-and-egg phenomenon, a cycle of cause and effect. Hermione had hoped that by starting over—not only in a new school, but in an entire new world—she might be able to fit in, make friends, and make a name for herself. She only broke down crying when she realized that it might be impossible.
Atelophobia. Noun. The fear of never being good enough. Hermione had always felt the need to prove her worth, and it only intensified when she was invited to attend Hogwarts. If she did poorly, or misbehaved, she could get expelled, and be barred from this world that had just opened up to her. She might very well prefer death than having to live the rest of her life knowing there was magic and not being able to use it.
She had thought Harry Potter might understand her anxiety, since he too grew up in the Muggle world and had to learn his way around this world. Her hope was quickly corrected: she judged that he was more concerned with immediate social advancement than long-term academic excellence.
Atychiphobia. Noun. The fear of failing. Though she knew the term and concept, Hermione did not fully recognize it in herself until the first time she faced a boggart. Ron's quip about her greatest fear being the reception of only nine out of ten on an assignment was, annoyingly, on the right track: at the final examination, the boggart morphed into Minerva McGonagall and informed Hermione that she had failed all her classes. She was so shaken, she had difficulty pronouncing the spell correctly—it was so similar to 'ridiculous,' and she had always taken such great care to articulate words, so saying 'Riddikulus' was completely counterintuitive—and she feared that her fear would come true if she was unable to control it! Later, when she reflected on the experience, Hermione realized that fear of failure was cyclical: fear of failure was capable of causing failure, which might consequently increase one's fear in the future.
The frightening thing about failure was not just the embarrassment it might cause, but the disappointment she would receive from her teachers and parents. She had been given so many opportunities (like being invited to a magical school) and allowances (like being allowed to use a Time-Turner). She wanted to show that she was worthy of such extraordinary privileges.
After her third year, she decided to put a stop to it, to stop trying to do everything. She dropped her extra classes, hoping that the depth of her knowledge would count more than its breadth in the long term.
Orenda. Noun. A mystical force present in all people that empowers them to affect the world, or to effect change in their own lives. Finding out that Hogwarts employed house-elves made Hermione think seriously about her place in this world. For over three years, she had done her best to play by the rules (except when extenuating circumstances—like the safety of her friends, or the future of this world—called for bending or breaking them). But now it occurred to her that she did not have to conform to this world; she belonged to it enough that she could change it, starting with the founding of the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare and Dumbledore's Army.
The sense of belonging—in Gryffindor House, among the Weasleys, at Hogwarts, and in the general wizarding world—had formed so gradually, so subtly, that it caught Hermione by surprise when she finally recognized it. Finding a place in a community was not the kind of achievement that could be checked off as complete; it was ongoing, indefinite, capable of changing at any moment; success or failure seemed more like a spectrum than a pass-or-fail duality.
Over the years, Hermione saw the same kind of phenomenon happen to her classmates as well as herself. Harry alternated between opposite extremes of public opinion, from being lauded and admired, to being hated and ridiculed, too many times to count. Draco Malfoy experienced highs and lows corresponding to his father's fluctuating social standing. Even Dumbledore's reputation fluctuated, declining during the Ministry's campaign to discredit him, rising again when they admitted his truthfulness, peaking at his death, declining when Rita Skeeter spread slander about him, and finally securing its rightful place in people's hearts and minds after the Second Wizarding War.
In a roundabout way, Hermione returned to her original attitude of ignoring—or at least, not fretting—about what people thought of her. She came to the conclusion that people would try to change one, and if they could not do so, they would try to change how the world perceived and remembered one. The latter could not be helped, at least not after such a circumstance as death; but while one was alive, one could choose to allow or resist the change, and determine how to change the world in turn.