Chapter One- First Day Back
Hermione Granger made her way down the long stone stairway of the entrance hall, yawning tiredly. The huge oak doors of the Great Hall stood open and waiting to welcome the students of Hogwarts to their first morning meal of the year. The newest Head Girl entered the hall and sank into a chair at the Gryffindor table. She looked around the immense room, which was mercifully quiet. I knew I shouldn't have stayed up so late, Hermione thought. She yawned again, then picked up a menu card and eyed it.
"Strawberry crêpes, please, with a bit of cream on the side," she said clearly to her plate. Immediately, three perfect crêpes appeared before her.
"Only you, Granger," someone sneered. Hermione looked up coldly, her eyes meeting the glittering gaze of Draco Malfoy.
"Stuff it, Ferret-Face," replied Hermione, looking away. "It's too early for this."
"Ooh, did someone stay up too late?" asked Malfoy, fake concern oozing from his words. "Consorting with Potty and the Weasel, perhaps?" Hermione gritted her teeth, picked up her knife and fork, and began sawing intently on a strawberry. To Hermione's great relief, the subjects of Malfoy's last question entered the hall, looking at the Slytherin with matching expressions of disgust.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Ron asked irritably leave 'Mione alone."
"Just leaving," sneered Malfoy, "though I ought to remind you to be kinder to your Head Boy. House points are oh-so-easily subtracted…" Malfoy trailed off, smirking, turned on his heel, and crossed the hall.
"Yeah, yeah, rave on," Ron scowled after Malfoy. "Like I could give a flying rat's arse about what he can do."
"So, 'Mione," Harry started, attempting to lighten the mood. He and Ron sat and scanned menu cards, each ordering bangers and mash with brown gravy.
"Urgh, how can you eat all that now?" Hermione groaned as heaping servings of steaming sausage and potatoes appeared before her friends. "My room is great," she informed Harry. "The entrance portrait, to the common room you know, Is on the fourth floor. The common room is done in a geometric-y design. The chairs are really comfortable! There's loads of bookshelves, too! One of them has a shelf that you tap with your wand and say exactly what you're looking to read. The book appears just like that! No poking through the library or anything! Anyway, my room is protected by a special charm that'll keep anyone but myself or a teacher from going inside, unless they have my permission. Makes me feel safer to know that Malfoy can't get in there.
"I have my own bathtub, like the prefect's bathroom, with scented water and other amenities. the bedroom has loads of space just for being in! It's huge, with a mirror that give," she giggled, "beauty tips!"
Like she needs them, thought Ron, looking at his plate. Hermione rushed on.
"The bed is really comfy, too. The whole room is, really. It's all done in autumn colors. Percy sent me and owl of congratulations," she paused as Harry and Ron sniggered, "What? Anyway, he says that the colors change with the seasons! How d'you suppose he knows? Do you think it's the same in the boy's rooms?"
She glanced over at the Slytherin table. Malfoy's eyes shimmered at her over his goblet of pumpkin juice, which he raised, as if toasting her. Hermione shuddered and looked away. I hope I never find out, she thought.
"Today, you will be doing a review session of your last six years here. You will transfigure a book into a loaf of bread and a desk into a chair and back again. After that, if you haven't made too much of a mess," Professor McGonagall's eyes flicked to Neville Longbottom, who blushed and looked down at his desk, "then you will transfigure a bowler hat into a turtle." The majority of the class groaned, but Hermione just cleared off her desk and sat straighter in her chair.
Ron leaned over to Hermione. "What's the incantation for turtles again?" he whispered urgently. Hermione glared at him.
"You are supposed to know that!" she hissed. Ron made a puppy face, his freckles spoiling the effect only slightly. "Fine," Hermione sighed. She reached for a piece of parchment, but her hand brushed something soft and furry. That something had very pointy teeth.
"Owch!" Hermione yelped as the teeth nipped her finger.
"What is the problem, Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall queried severely. Hermione blushed and sat down.
"It was a cat, I think, Professor," she answered, looking at the floor. A pair of bright, golden eyes stared back at her from inside of her knapsack.
Back in her room now, after classes, Hermione sat on her bed with Hermione and Ron, petting an unruly lump of brown-and-grey striped fur. It yawned and stretched before rising to its feet and jumping lightly to the floor, sniffing everything within reach.
"So McGonagall said it doesn't belong to anyone?" Ron asked Hermione.
"He doesn't belong to anyone," Hermione said. "We aren't sure where he came from."
"What are you going to call him?" Harry inquired.
"I'm not sure," Hermione replied, fidgeting with a strand of her brown hair. "I was thinking about 'Ashes,' since he looks like he's rolled in them."
"I'm sure whatever you choose will be perfect," Ron told her. Hermione looked at him sharply. Ron blushed and looked away. Harry, noticing the tension, invited Ron to leave Hermione to dress for dinner. The two boys left, Ron glancing furtively back at Hermione, who pretended not to notice.
Putting the gangly red-head out of her mind, Hermione focused on the at who was now perched on a windowsill, watching the grounds below with great interest.
"How does 'Ashes' sound to you, kitty?" Hermione asked.
"Prrt?" The cat turned to her. He seemed to be asking her to repeat the question.
"'Ashes.' How does that sound as a name? For you," Hermione explained.
The cat leapt lightly to the floor and crossed to the bed, hopping straight into Hermione's lap. He purred indulgently and rubbed against her hands.
"Ashes it is," Hermione agreed.