Chapter One: Friends
"Bloody hell!" moaned Ron, tossing down his quill and parchment for the seventeenth time that evening. "I'll never get this thing done in time."
"Well, if you'd just listened to me and started back when it was assigned – two weeks ago, I might add – you'd have already finished, wouldn't you?" said Hermione, absentmindedly stroking Crookshanks behind the ears as she read Arithmancy for the Modern Wizard.
It was a Saturday night in the Gryffindor common room. All around, students were sitting in squashy armchairs, lounging by the fire and laughing, chatting about Quidditch and the injustices of Potions homework, or attempting to finish last-minute homework like Ron. Ermengarde Switoviak, a fifth-year, sat in her usual quiet corner, writing a letter to her parents. She came to the sudden and silent realization that she had never actually spoken to any of the students outside of her own year and wondered if her parents would think her pathetic if she included that minor detail in the letter among with all the assurances that "I'm doing quite well" and "I love my classes" and "All the students here are really lovely".
Ermengarde was one of those people who are easy to overlook, but are probably the most undeserving to be. She was an unusually kind girl with an even temper and was smart as a whip, not to mention the fact that she did have a rather good sense of humor. The only problem was that she had spent most of her early years being practically ignored, lost amongst her eleven brothers and sisters, and had usually just retreated into her own mind, reading or writing or drawing in her room. She was a very pretty girl with pale, smooth skin, bright turquoise eyes, and neatly curly dark hair. In fact, many called her "beautiful", though never to her face, with the unfortunate result that she had never learned of her own allure and therefore thought of herself as rather plain.
Sick and tired of not really having friends and not really talking to anyone, Ermengarde decided that today was the day: she would go up and talk to Harry Potter, the famous Harry Potter, at last, as she'd been wanting to ever since her first day at Hogwarts. She stood up and smoothed her robes nervously, then sat back down. There was no way that he would want to talk to her...after all, he had enough to deal with without some silly girl trying to get his attention. Maybe she should just forget it...
No, she told herself. Just go introduce yourself. He's plenty nice, I'm sure it will be fine...at least talk to his friends or something. You can't sit here forever, you know!
She stood up once again and forced herself to walk over to Harry, Ron, and Hermione by the fire. There was an extra armchair by their spot. Ermengarde indicated it as she spoke.
"Ex-excuse me," she mumbled. "But is this chair taken?"
"No," said Harry. "Go ahead."
"Thanks," said Ermengarde, and she sat down.
"Who are you?" asked Ron. "I haven't seen you around."
"I'm a fifth-year, too," said Ermengarde. "My name is Ermengarde Sarah Elise Serena Elizabeth Switoviak."
There was a pause in which Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at Ermengarde as though they had never seen anything quite like her. Was she not supposed to say her entire name when introducing herself? She knew it was quite long, but...
"And – and you?" she stammered, hoping to break the awkward, uncomfortable pause.
"Harry James Potter," said Harry, clearly not wanted Ermengarde to feel embarrassed.
"Hermione Jane Granger," said Hermione.
"Jane?" repeated Ron.
"Yes, Jane!" said Hermione hotly. "It's my mum's name. I like it."
"Never said I didn't," muttered Ron.
"You haven't introduced yourself, anyway," said Hermione.
"Ron Weasley," said Ron.
"Middle name, too, Ron," said Harry.
Ron's ears turned the color of boiled tomatoes. "Ron...Billius Weasley."
Hermione gave a snort and broke into shaking giggles. Harry looked slightly amused himself. Ron, however, turned red so quickly and violently that Ermengarde feared for his health.
"Are you all right, Ron?" she asked. "Do you need water or something?"
"I'm fine," said Ron, looking very put out. "It's the mark of the Weasleys, blushing is."
"You're a fifth-year?" said Hermione. "I've never seen you around. Are you new or something?"
"No," said Ermengarde. "I've always been here. I'm...I'm just not very well-known, I suppose. I don't really have any friends or anything...I'm not very good at talking to people."
"You're doing fine," said Hermione, smiling. "So, this is your O.W.L. year. What classes are you taking?"
"Arithmancy, History of Magic, Advanced Transfiguration—"
"Advanced?" said Ron in amazement. "You're in Advanced Transfiguration?"
Ermengarde nodded. "I have a bit of a knack for it."
"Apparently so," said Ron, looking shrewdly at Hermione, who was now taking her turn to look a bit put out.
"Anyway," said Hermione, clearly not wanting to hear that any fifth- year was better at Transfiguration than herself any longer, "what else?"
"Well...the basics, aren't they? Potions, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures...you know."
"Oh, you're in Hagrid's class," said Harry. "What do you think of him?"
At these words, the other two leaned in slightly with appraising looks on their face. Ermengarde wasn't exactly sure what to think of this, so she just responded truthfully.
"He's lovely. You know, I don't understand why people dislike his class so much. I know his method is rather unusual, but really, I think he shows those dangerous creatures to teach us that we can master something more treacherous than ourselves. I mean, inside, he really is an old softy, isn't he? He's not at all horrible like the Slytherins seem to think, or the Daily Prophet did," said Ermengarde.
There was another silence, this time not awkward at all. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all beaming at her. Clearly, supporting Hagrid was a good way to win their friendship.
"Well...well, I'm off to bed. It was nice to talk to you," said Ermengarde, standing up.
"G'night," said Ron.
"Ermengarde – where do you normally eat your meals?" asked Hermione with a small frown.
"I usually just bring something back here," replied Ermengarde, blushing slightly.
"Why don't you eat with us, then?" suggested Hermione.
"Oh, no, I mean...I wouldn't want to intrude on anything—"
"Don't be stupid," said Ron. "Why would you want to eat all by yourself?"
"Yeah," said Harry. "I dealt with that enough second year...come on, it's fine."
"Second year?" repeated Ermengarde. "Not...not the year with the basilisk?"
"Yeah, it was," said Harry.
"I remember that," said Ermengarde. "I felt terrible for you, when you sat all alone everywhere. Just so you know, I never believed any of those silly rumors about you being the Heir of Slytherin. I mean, how could you be? You're so obviously..."
But Ermengarde trailed off, not wishing to reveal that she knew more about Harry's heritage than he did. Moreover, she did not want to explain how she knew it. Luckily, the others seemed to think that her sentence was more likely to end "not the Heir" than it would be "related to Godric Gryffindor" and they seemed plenty satisfied. With a small smile, Ermengarde retreated to her dormitory.
Immensely proud of her newfound social skills, Ermengarde changed into her nightdress and curled up in her four-poster. Her head was swimming...had she just made friends? Real friends?
Yes, she told herself. And the first order of business ought to be shaking some sense into Ron and Hermione...can't anyone see that they're madly in love?
She giggled right aloud and then stopped herself because she must have sounded very stupid.
Harry isn't at all like I thought he would be, she thought. He's quieter than I expected – or maybe that was just because I've only just met him. I'll bet once I know him better, he'll talk more. He seems very nice, though.
Ermengarde yawned and rolled over. The photograph of her entire family was sitting on the bedside table. It gave her comfort to have it there, as though seeing a picture of herself surrounded by her family made her somewhat less unusual. Being the only witch in a long line of Muggles (and a Squib uncle who was usually forgotten) didn't exactly make her normal by anyone's standards. Her parents had been pleased, but she sometimes felt a sneaking suspicion that they were more pleased at being minus one mouth to feed for nine months at a time than they were about her being accepted to a prestigious school of witchcraft and wizardry. Though her family wasn't exactly poor, her mother and father and two oldest brothers had to work extremely hard for their well-being.
At least I've got parents, though, said Ermengarde in her thoughts. Poor Harry, if only he'd known his parents...if only he could meet them somehow, if only just for a while...In fact, I wish I'd known them. I'll bet they were much more caring than mine can be...I'll bet they were really something. Who knows? Maybe, one day, someone will come along who can tell him what they were really like...maybe, one day, he could really meet them...
"Bloody hell!" moaned Ron, tossing down his quill and parchment for the seventeenth time that evening. "I'll never get this thing done in time."
"Well, if you'd just listened to me and started back when it was assigned – two weeks ago, I might add – you'd have already finished, wouldn't you?" said Hermione, absentmindedly stroking Crookshanks behind the ears as she read Arithmancy for the Modern Wizard.
It was a Saturday night in the Gryffindor common room. All around, students were sitting in squashy armchairs, lounging by the fire and laughing, chatting about Quidditch and the injustices of Potions homework, or attempting to finish last-minute homework like Ron. Ermengarde Switoviak, a fifth-year, sat in her usual quiet corner, writing a letter to her parents. She came to the sudden and silent realization that she had never actually spoken to any of the students outside of her own year and wondered if her parents would think her pathetic if she included that minor detail in the letter among with all the assurances that "I'm doing quite well" and "I love my classes" and "All the students here are really lovely".
Ermengarde was one of those people who are easy to overlook, but are probably the most undeserving to be. She was an unusually kind girl with an even temper and was smart as a whip, not to mention the fact that she did have a rather good sense of humor. The only problem was that she had spent most of her early years being practically ignored, lost amongst her eleven brothers and sisters, and had usually just retreated into her own mind, reading or writing or drawing in her room. She was a very pretty girl with pale, smooth skin, bright turquoise eyes, and neatly curly dark hair. In fact, many called her "beautiful", though never to her face, with the unfortunate result that she had never learned of her own allure and therefore thought of herself as rather plain.
Sick and tired of not really having friends and not really talking to anyone, Ermengarde decided that today was the day: she would go up and talk to Harry Potter, the famous Harry Potter, at last, as she'd been wanting to ever since her first day at Hogwarts. She stood up and smoothed her robes nervously, then sat back down. There was no way that he would want to talk to her...after all, he had enough to deal with without some silly girl trying to get his attention. Maybe she should just forget it...
No, she told herself. Just go introduce yourself. He's plenty nice, I'm sure it will be fine...at least talk to his friends or something. You can't sit here forever, you know!
She stood up once again and forced herself to walk over to Harry, Ron, and Hermione by the fire. There was an extra armchair by their spot. Ermengarde indicated it as she spoke.
"Ex-excuse me," she mumbled. "But is this chair taken?"
"No," said Harry. "Go ahead."
"Thanks," said Ermengarde, and she sat down.
"Who are you?" asked Ron. "I haven't seen you around."
"I'm a fifth-year, too," said Ermengarde. "My name is Ermengarde Sarah Elise Serena Elizabeth Switoviak."
There was a pause in which Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at Ermengarde as though they had never seen anything quite like her. Was she not supposed to say her entire name when introducing herself? She knew it was quite long, but...
"And – and you?" she stammered, hoping to break the awkward, uncomfortable pause.
"Harry James Potter," said Harry, clearly not wanted Ermengarde to feel embarrassed.
"Hermione Jane Granger," said Hermione.
"Jane?" repeated Ron.
"Yes, Jane!" said Hermione hotly. "It's my mum's name. I like it."
"Never said I didn't," muttered Ron.
"You haven't introduced yourself, anyway," said Hermione.
"Ron Weasley," said Ron.
"Middle name, too, Ron," said Harry.
Ron's ears turned the color of boiled tomatoes. "Ron...Billius Weasley."
Hermione gave a snort and broke into shaking giggles. Harry looked slightly amused himself. Ron, however, turned red so quickly and violently that Ermengarde feared for his health.
"Are you all right, Ron?" she asked. "Do you need water or something?"
"I'm fine," said Ron, looking very put out. "It's the mark of the Weasleys, blushing is."
"You're a fifth-year?" said Hermione. "I've never seen you around. Are you new or something?"
"No," said Ermengarde. "I've always been here. I'm...I'm just not very well-known, I suppose. I don't really have any friends or anything...I'm not very good at talking to people."
"You're doing fine," said Hermione, smiling. "So, this is your O.W.L. year. What classes are you taking?"
"Arithmancy, History of Magic, Advanced Transfiguration—"
"Advanced?" said Ron in amazement. "You're in Advanced Transfiguration?"
Ermengarde nodded. "I have a bit of a knack for it."
"Apparently so," said Ron, looking shrewdly at Hermione, who was now taking her turn to look a bit put out.
"Anyway," said Hermione, clearly not wanting to hear that any fifth- year was better at Transfiguration than herself any longer, "what else?"
"Well...the basics, aren't they? Potions, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures...you know."
"Oh, you're in Hagrid's class," said Harry. "What do you think of him?"
At these words, the other two leaned in slightly with appraising looks on their face. Ermengarde wasn't exactly sure what to think of this, so she just responded truthfully.
"He's lovely. You know, I don't understand why people dislike his class so much. I know his method is rather unusual, but really, I think he shows those dangerous creatures to teach us that we can master something more treacherous than ourselves. I mean, inside, he really is an old softy, isn't he? He's not at all horrible like the Slytherins seem to think, or the Daily Prophet did," said Ermengarde.
There was another silence, this time not awkward at all. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all beaming at her. Clearly, supporting Hagrid was a good way to win their friendship.
"Well...well, I'm off to bed. It was nice to talk to you," said Ermengarde, standing up.
"G'night," said Ron.
"Ermengarde – where do you normally eat your meals?" asked Hermione with a small frown.
"I usually just bring something back here," replied Ermengarde, blushing slightly.
"Why don't you eat with us, then?" suggested Hermione.
"Oh, no, I mean...I wouldn't want to intrude on anything—"
"Don't be stupid," said Ron. "Why would you want to eat all by yourself?"
"Yeah," said Harry. "I dealt with that enough second year...come on, it's fine."
"Second year?" repeated Ermengarde. "Not...not the year with the basilisk?"
"Yeah, it was," said Harry.
"I remember that," said Ermengarde. "I felt terrible for you, when you sat all alone everywhere. Just so you know, I never believed any of those silly rumors about you being the Heir of Slytherin. I mean, how could you be? You're so obviously..."
But Ermengarde trailed off, not wishing to reveal that she knew more about Harry's heritage than he did. Moreover, she did not want to explain how she knew it. Luckily, the others seemed to think that her sentence was more likely to end "not the Heir" than it would be "related to Godric Gryffindor" and they seemed plenty satisfied. With a small smile, Ermengarde retreated to her dormitory.
Immensely proud of her newfound social skills, Ermengarde changed into her nightdress and curled up in her four-poster. Her head was swimming...had she just made friends? Real friends?
Yes, she told herself. And the first order of business ought to be shaking some sense into Ron and Hermione...can't anyone see that they're madly in love?
She giggled right aloud and then stopped herself because she must have sounded very stupid.
Harry isn't at all like I thought he would be, she thought. He's quieter than I expected – or maybe that was just because I've only just met him. I'll bet once I know him better, he'll talk more. He seems very nice, though.
Ermengarde yawned and rolled over. The photograph of her entire family was sitting on the bedside table. It gave her comfort to have it there, as though seeing a picture of herself surrounded by her family made her somewhat less unusual. Being the only witch in a long line of Muggles (and a Squib uncle who was usually forgotten) didn't exactly make her normal by anyone's standards. Her parents had been pleased, but she sometimes felt a sneaking suspicion that they were more pleased at being minus one mouth to feed for nine months at a time than they were about her being accepted to a prestigious school of witchcraft and wizardry. Though her family wasn't exactly poor, her mother and father and two oldest brothers had to work extremely hard for their well-being.
At least I've got parents, though, said Ermengarde in her thoughts. Poor Harry, if only he'd known his parents...if only he could meet them somehow, if only just for a while...In fact, I wish I'd known them. I'll bet they were much more caring than mine can be...I'll bet they were really something. Who knows? Maybe, one day, someone will come along who can tell him what they were really like...maybe, one day, he could really meet them...