A/N: I'm sure this idea has been done plenty of times before over the years, but here's my (hopefully) humorous version of what might have happened if Hermione had moved in next door to Harry during the summer before Hogwarts. Completely canon compliant through the first 5 chapters of Philosopher's/Sorcerer's Stone, and assumes continued canon anywhere where it wouldn't obviously differ due to the events of this story.

Disclaimer: Any dialogue that seems like it's from the book — Is probably from the book.

Hagrid helped Harry on to the train that would take him back to the Dursleys, then handed him an envelope.

"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts, " he said. "First o' September — King's Cross — it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me... See yeh soon, Harry."

The train pulled out of the station. Harry wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; he rose in his seat and pressed his nose against the window, but he blinked and Hagrid had gone.

~HP~HP~HP~

The following morning, Harry walked down the stairs from his room (or Dudley's old second room, as any of the Dursleys would have referred to it as had you desired to ask them), heading towards the kitchen in search of something to eat. Since the Dursleys had discovered that he was in fact a wizard, and would soon be going to wizarding school, they had been completely avoiding him. Dudley ran and hid every time Harry entered the room, and his aunt and uncle acted as if he didn't exist. While it was something of an improvement over how he'd been treated most of the summer (and his life, for that matter), he knew it would quickly become depressing, long before he could board the train for his new school.

Walking down the hall, he passed his uncle coming from the kitchen. Harry just barely was able to jump against the wall to avoid being ran into by his uncle, who was taking his job of pretending Harry didn't exist very seriously. But just as his uncle passed by the front door, there came a light, but firm knock. Harry stopped in the middle of the hallway, wondering who could be knocking at this time in the morning.

His uncle was apparently just as surprised, because instead of shooing Harry out of sight, like he normally did any time visitors came over, keeping in line with the whole 'Harry doesn't exist' thing his aunt and uncle had been doing since they took Harry in, Mr Dursley simply opened the door.

At first, Mr Dursley stared around, wondering who had knocked, before he looked slightly lower. A bushy-haired girl about Harry's height and age stood on the stoop, smiling up at Mr Dursley.

"Hi, my name is Hermione!" she greeted warmly with a bright smile, offering her hand, which Mr Dursley promptly ignored. Unperturbed, she continued, "I just moved in next door, and saw you had a boy who looked about my age, so I came over to say hi. Ah, there he is," she added, as she spotted Harry standing in the hallway.

The girl gave an enthusiastic wave, which Harry returned with a small, awkward wave of his own. No one had ever came looking for him before. Unless they were Dudley's friends and were wanting to beat him up, which somehow didn't really count in Harry's mind.

It was a true sign of how befuddled Mr Vernon was that he just stood there, gaping like a giant whale out of water (if whales breathed water instead of air).

And before Mr Dursley could come to his irritable senses, the girl said to Harry, "So what's your name?"

Harry crept closer to the door, curious about this complete stranger who seemed to actually be interested in him.

"Harry."

"Well, Harry," said the girl, with another radiant smile that only a Dursley could dislike, "my mother said I could invite you over for breakfast. If that's okay with you, Mr Dursley," she added, looking up at Harry's uncle.

Mr Dursley just kind of nodded mutely, clearly at a loss for words. So before his uncle could realize what he had agreed to, Harry slipped out the door. The girl bounced down the walk, with Harry following close behind her.

Hearing the door shut behind them, Harry said, "So you're Hermione?"

"They're actually my aunt and uncle," said Harry, staring at the overflowing plate Mrs Granger had set in front of him. It looked like more food than he typically was given in several days by the Dursleys. "My last name's actually Potter."

Hermione froze, a forkful of sausage halfway to her mouth.

"The Harry Potter?" she said, staring at him in disbelief. "Like, lightening-shaped scar on your forehead, Harry Potter?"

Harry brushed his hair out of the way, revealing the scar. "You know about this world?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed excitedly. "I just found out when I got my letter a few days ago. It was such a surprise, nobody in my family's ever had magic before. I got all my school books and supplies and a bunch of other books from Diagon Alley three days ago. I haven't had a chance to completely read through all of them yet, but I've read all about you. You're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century…"

Harry just stared at her for a few seconds, before replying, "I just found out I was a wizard the night before last. I skimmed through a couple of my books last night, but haven't really looked at them yet."

"We can read them together!" said Hermione excitedly, digging into her breakfast with renewed fervor.

Harry's last month with the Dursleys was fun. Owing, of course, entirely to the fact that he spent almost all of his time when he wasn't sleeping over at Hermione's house. They would have spent some of this time at Harry's house as well, but as his aunt and uncle had no interest in having someone who was friends with Harry, and just Harry, over at the house, even if Harry and Hermione were both smart enough not to tell them that she was also magical, they remained firmly planted on Granger territory. And the Dursleys did nothing to discourage this new pastime of Harry's, because in the Dursleys' mind, any time Harry was not in the house was — though of course they would never use this particular expression — quite magical.

Harry and Hermione spent a large portion of their time reading their spellbooks and practicing simple spells, but Hermione also had Harry show her around the neighborhood. It was the first time Harry had ever felt wanted and appreciated.

By the time September 1st arrived, Harry felt fairly confident to start his first year of magical training. While he hadn't read through all of his books at least three times and completely memorized them like Hermione had, he had read them all cover to cover, and was able to do several of the spells at the beginning of each book. He had also started reading Hermione's favorite magical non-textbook, Hogwarts, A History, though he was only about halfway through it so far. He hoped he'd have time to read more of it on the train ride to Hogwarts, which from what he'd read in the book took the entire afternoon, and part of the evening.

Harry knew he wasn't as advanced as Hermione was, who seemed to pick up everything naturally despite not coming from a magical family, but he hoped he would at least be able to keep up the kids who were born into magical families.

As he was leaving the Grangers' house on the 31st, Hermione's mom asked him if he'd like to go with them to King's Cross the following morning, saving the Dursleys from having to make the trip. Harry immediately accepted, having been worrying for some time about having to ask his uncle to take him to the train station on the first. When he got back to his house, he said to his uncle as he passed through the living room, "The Grangers are going to take me to the train station in the morning." Uncle Vernon merely grunted, which Harry took to be his acceptance of the arrangements.

The following morning, Harry walked over to Hermione's with his trunk, and Hedwig in her cage. After another hearty breakfast, they left the house, arriving at King's Cross station at ten o'clock, plenty of time before the train was to leave at eleven.

Having read Hogwarts, A History, they knew to reach Platform Nine and Three-Quarters they had to walk through the seemingly solid barrier between platforms nine and ten. Grabbing her mom's hand, Hermione ran through the barrier before the older female Granger knew what was happening, disappearing as they got to the barrier. Giving each other a slightly apprehensive glance, Harry and Mr Granger followed a second later, appearing on the other side on a gleaming platform station, a scarlet steam engine waiting for them.

Hermione immediately rushed towards the train with her trunk to store it in an empty carriage. Harry followed her, and they found an empty compartment near the back, where they stored their trunks and Hedwig's cage, before walking back onto the platform, which was beginning to get busy.

Fifteen minutes to eleven, Hermione gave both her parents a hug and a kiss, before hopping back on board the train. Harry was about to follow her, when Mrs Granger swept him up in a hug, the first Harry could ever remember receiving. As she let him go, wishing him a good school year and telling him to write and let them know how it was going, Mr Granger shook his hand and said, "Take care of Hermione, and hopefully we'll see you for Christmas."

Harry climbed on the train, quickly finding the carriage he and Hermione had picked out. Opening the window, they both waved at Mom and Dad Granger.

Five minutes before the train was scheduled to depart, six redheads rushed onto the platform in pairs, out of breath. The first two, twins, who looked a couple years older than Harry and Hermione, scurried towards the train near where Harry and Hermione were. The oldest child, a pompous looking sort, strolled up self-importantly to the front of the train. They didn't see where the last two children went, as at that moment the twins burst into the compartment behind them.

"You're him, aren't you!?" exclaimed the redhead.

"Of course he is, how many other people have lightening scars on their forehead?" replied the other redhead.

"Who?" asked Harry, though he expected he already knew the answer.

"Harry Potter!" said the taller twin.

"The Boy Who Lived!" said his equally tall brother at the same time.

"Oh, yeah," replied Harry.

"He's Fred!"

"And he's George!"

"We're the Weasleys!"

"Hermione Granger," said Hermione, holding out her hand.

"Pleased to meet you," both of the twins chimed enthusiastically, shaking her hand in turn.

"See you around," said the one who might have been Fred, or possibly George.

"Hope you're both in Gryffindor," added the one who was probably George, but was just as likely Fred.

Both of them breezed out as quickly as they had come in, and Harry and Hermione were alone once again.

As they had been talking to the twins, the train had started rolling. About ten minutes after the twins had left, the door to their compartment opened again, and the youngest redhead on the train stuck his head in.

"Anyone sitting here?" he asked.

"Come on in," replied Hermione in her normal enthusiastic voice. "I'm Hermione Granger, and this is Harry Potter. We just met your bothers Fred and George a few minutes ago."

"The Harry Potter?" blurted out the boy, staring at Harry's forehead, where the scar was currently covered by Harry's unruly mess of black hair.

Hermione was about to ask him his name, when the twins burst back into the compartment.

"Hey Ron, hi again Harry, Hermione," they said in greeting, sitting down, one next to Harry and Hermione, the other on Ron's side of the compartment. "You two know any magic yet?"

"A little," answered Hermione shyly, before Harry interrupted her.

"Don't listen to her, she's really good. She can already do like half of everything in our school books, and she's only been practicing for a month."

From the excitement on their faces, the twins were clearly impressed. Ron, on the other hand, merely scowled and sank deeper into his chair.

"Harry is really good, too," interjected Hermione.

"All right, both of you do something to these two frisbees," said one of the twins, pulling two growling, snapping frisbees out of his pockets.

But just as Harry was about to Charm one of them into tap dancing, and Hermione was about to transfigure the other into a coaster, the eldest of the Weasleys still at Hogwarts burst in uninvited.

"No magic on the train!" he exclaimed, waving wildly at Harry and Hermione's wands. "And Fanged Frisbees are banned, give me those!" he continued, snatching the two frisbees out of his brother's hand, receiving several small bites for his efforts (from the frisbees, not his brother). "I am a prefect, and will not tolerate my own siblings breaking the school rules."

"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy?" said the twin who was sitting across from Harry and Hermione, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," said the other twin. "Once—"

"Or twice—"

"A minute—"

"All summer—"

Percy merely scowled, sweeping out of the compartment with one last glare.

"Our brother's a prefect, in case you hadn't gathered," explained Fred seriously, looking at Harry and Hermione.

"Or as we prefer to say it, a pompous arse," added George.

From the few minutes they'd seen of him, Harry and Hermione had to agree, though Hermione never would have admitted it out loud.

Much later that evening, they were being marched into the Great Hall, about to be sorted into their Houses.

While they had been waiting in the empty chamber for Professor McGonagall to return, Harry had heard Ron telling anyone who would listen that they had to do some sort of painful test to be sorted into their houses. Harry knew from reading Hogwarts, A History that that was a complete load of hogwash, but before he could do more than stare at the boy, who came from a wizarding family and really should know better, Professor McGonagall had returned.

Standing in front of the four house tables, Hermione's name was called before Harry's was. Leaning over to Harry before she walked up to the four-legged stool, she whispered, "Hope to see you in Gryffindor."

A few seconds later, the hat shouted "GRYFFINDOR", and Hermione bounded over to the Gryffindor table, sitting down next to the twins who enthusiastically congratulated her.

When Harry's name was finally called, it took the hat a bit longer to shout out "GRYFFINDOR", as it argued with Harry on the benefits and detriments between Slytherin and Gryffindor. But the hat had finally relented, and the Gryffindor table exploded with celebration at getting the Boy-Who-Lived. The twins, Gred and Forge, had taken up a war chant to the tune of "We got Potter! We got Potter!" that quickly spread throughout the table (with, of course, the exception of Prefect Percy, who thought such things highly unbecoming of a prefect like himself). Harry walked to the Gryffindor table, drastically relieved that he'd gotten in the same house as Hermione, and that they'd both gotten in the same house as the twins. As soon as the hat had exclaimed "GRYFFINDOR", Hermione had leapt up from her seat, and as soon as Harry got close enough, she engulfed him in a hug, nearly knocking him down. Together they sat back down next to the twins, who were still whisper-chanting "We got Potter! We got Potter!". Harry's future was certainly looking up.

Harry's optimistic outlook on the future lasted all the way until Friday, when they had their first double Potions class with Slytherin. Due to either a gross oversight, or else malevolent intent by whomever decided the school schedules, Harry and the rest of his Gryffindor classmates were doomed to have double Potions with Slytherin for all five years of required potions classes during their Hogwarts schooling. Fortunately for the school, though, none of them were aware of this negligence in rotating class doubles, or that particular Gryffindor class might have shrunk drastically after having to endure their first of several hundred torturous sessions with the Head of Slytherin House and the only students he didn't actively loath, but rather favored in a manner truly disgraceful for a teacher.

They had just sat down and had roll call when Professor Snape decided to show (for lack of a better description, since in real life he never wore anything but black, to match his hair and soul) his true colors for the first (but certainly not last) time.

"Potter!" he snapped suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"You would get a potion called the Draught of Living Death, Sir."

Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut — fame clearly isn't everything."

Harry stared at him in confusion; that was the only potion he could think of that added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"Bezoars are found in the stomachs of goats, Professor."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Harry forced himself to keep looking straight into those cold black eyes. He knew he'd just read the other day that Bezoars were stones found in goat stomachs.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"They are the same plant, Sir."

This one Harry knew for certain he was correct on, because he'd read on the train ride up to Hogwarts the story of how that particular plant had come to have three names.

"What a waste," said Snape, slowly shaking his head. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a super-powerful sleeping potion; a bezoar is a stone that will save you from most poisons; as for monkshood and wolfsbane, they also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

Hermione stared at Snape completely bumfuzzled. Everything Harry had said was completely true; and the "correct" answers Snape had just given them weren't even answers to the questions he had asked. Not to mention the fact that the Draught of Living Death wasn't even attempted until sixth year, when it would still be more complex than anything they would have attempted up until that point.

Despite the seeming impossibility of it, the class only got worse from there.

However, due to having grown up under the reign of the Dursleys, Harry was much more adept at surviving unfair treatment than most, and was generally pleased with being at Hogwarts (with the notable exception of Friday mornings, spent in the dungeons).

It was Halloween evening, and he and Hermione were sitting together at the Feast. They had both easily aced their Charms lesson that morning, as it was another charm they'd practiced and learned together over the summer; Wingardium Leviosa. As they waited for the feast to start, they had the salt and pepper shakers flying, trying to knock each other out of the air. Hermione was clearly winning, but so far Harry had managed to keep his shaker from being crashed to the table. The twins had volunteered to try sending minor jinxes and hexes at their flying cutlery, but Harry had declined their offer to make their levitated tableware battle a little more challenging.

A ways down the table sat the youngest redhead, glaring sulkily at them. He'd tried to ridicule Hermione for her know-it-all-ness as they had all walked from class to the Great Hall for lunch, but it was kind of negated by the fact Harry could also do the charm with ease, and the fact everyone else in the class was impressed by Harry and Hermione's skill. And instead of running for the bathroom crying like she might had if she hadn't had any friends, Hermione merely turned to Harry, who she was walking next to, and said, "I bet I can keep my plate of food hovering in the air while we eat longer than you can." And now the two showoffs were showing off once again, having the flatware brawl whilst in flight.

The feast had just appeared when a more terrified than normal Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the Great Hall, gasping "Troll — in the dungeons — thought you ought to know.", before collapsing into a pathetic heap on the floor. As Harry and Hermione were shuffled back to the Gryffindor common room with all their fellow Gryffindorians, they saw Ron slip away, heading back towards the Dungeons.

"Oh, that idiot's going to get himself killed," whispered Hermione.

"I bet he's trying to prove he's all tough after completely failing at levitating this morning," whispered Harry back. "I suppose we ought to go rescue him."

Harry and Hermione ducked down the next corridor, following Ron. As they rounded another corner, they heard, "Oi! Troll! Over here!", before seeing Ron duck into the girl's bathroom on his right.

The twelve-foot, lumpy troll lumbered into the bathroom after him, swinging its club haphazardly. Harry and Hermione broke into a run, covering the length of the hallway in record time. The troll had just lifted its club when the duo burst into the bathroom behind it. They could see Ron cowering in the corner, staring wide-eyed and terrified at the monstrosity before him. But before the troll could attempt to deliver its blow, Harry and Hermione yelled "Wingardium Leviosa", both of their wands pointed at the troll's club. The club, which was directly above the troll's head when the two incantations were exclaimed, rose towards the ceiling, floating ominously above the troll's thick skull.

Though the troll hadn't noticed the sudden presence of two new wizards on the scene, it did notice when its club left its hand without its permission. Blinking stupidly, the troll looked up to see where its club had gotten off too, and at that same moment, the witch and wizard both relinquished their spells, allowing the club to follow its own preferred course of action, falling straight down, directly between the eyes of the oblivious troll, who had wasted its entire childhood pillaging and plundering, instead of learning about a little thing called "gravity". The club connected with its former owner's head with a sickening crack, and several tons of ugly, smelly troll came crashing to the floor with a thud that shook the room.

"We should get out of here," whispered Hermione to Harry quickly, and the two of them skedaddled out of the room before any teachers could find them, leaving Ron alone with the knocked out troll.

"You know he's going to make up some story about how he defeated the troll single-handedly," said Harry as they walked back up to the Gryffindor common room.

"Let him," replied Hermione. "Anyone who's seen him try to perform magic will know there's no way he could have possibly taken on a full-grown mountain troll. After all, not many first year students could."

Giving the Fat Lady the password, they joined their housemates in their common room to finish the feast that had been so rudely interrupted by the odiferous, blundering beast (the troll, not Professor Quirrell).

And from that moment forward, Harry and Hermione were inseparable. Fighting a troll together had solidified their bond in a way very few things can.