"Hermione, you look terrible! Are you okay?" Hermione had to resist groaning out loud in favor of pressing the palms of her hands into her eyes; she knew her mom was concerned, but did she have to ask it like that?
"Yes Mum, I'm fine, it's just that I couldn't get any sleep last night; I was too excited," and just like that, she wasn't so tired anymore; how could anyone be tired when they were anticipating their first day of school? Much less if it was a magical school!
"I know you're excited, but dear, you're not going to make any friends with bags under your eyes," her mother said, sounding like she was honestly trying to be helpful.
"Girls won't care about bags under her eyes and anybody else doesn't matter," her father cut in, looking up from his dentistry book, the one he had read at least twenty times before. Her father is where Hermione got her love for rereading books; her mother was more of a one and done person.
"Fine dear," her mother sighed, exasperated, "you both better eat up; we're leaving this house in twenty minutes and not a second later!"
Hermione scarfed down her breakfast and rushed up the stairs, needing to brush her teeth, get dressed, and bring her trunk downstairs. "Young lady, you better not be thinking about bringing that heavy trunk down those steep steps." Her father used adjectives when he felt strong emotions.
"Of course not Dad," she sighed, pulling on her shirt and then her jeans, and it was times like this when needless thoughts popped into her head. Am I supposed to bring toothpaste with me to Hogwarts? I mean, it never mentioned such things on the list, but can they really be expected to supply with the whole of the student body with toiletries?
"Hermione! Hurry up! It's time to leave!" She spit out the rest of her toothpaste filled spit, wiped her mouth, and ran to her room, searching for her trunk.
"I already put it in the car!" her father yelled up the stairs, Hermione having to resist rolling her eyes; honestly, did her parents think her incompetent?
XXX
Hermione had known that boarding the Hogwarts express would be entirely different, but she wasn't prepared, emotionally, mentally, or physically, for just how similar it would be.
People were already in a majority of the compartments, whether they were old or new friends Hermione couldn't tell, and she was having trouble finding somewhere she could even place her stuff. Not to mention she already felt like people were talking about her.
She dragged her trunk down the corridor, pushing herself flat against the wall so the impatient students with trollies could pass her; why hadn't she thought of keeping her trolley?
"Is she daft? She could've just brought her trolley," a girl giggled to her friend as she walked past, somewhat attempting to lower her voice but not much.
"Probably a muggleborn," the other one said sympathetically, as though it were bad thing to come from a non-magical family.
"Aw Forge, we can't mess with this little first year; she's too clueless to the ways of the world," a voice cooed behind her, sounding much too close for comfort.
"I beg your pardon?" Upon turning around, Hermione was faced with two redheaded boys, twins, and they actually weren't that close. Maybe she needed to practice her hearing skills.
"You're right Gred; I say we take the ickle first year under our wing and show her the inner workings of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Okay, that must be it: they had heard the two girls talking; new she came from a non-wizarding family, and were teasing her. Did no one know shame in the wizarding world?
"I beg your pardon?" Hermione asked again, using more enunciation in the hopes of them actually answering her.
"Don't beg," the one referred to as Gred said, a bit of a pleading tone slipping in.
"It's unbecoming of a young witch," Forge said, shaking his head as his brother made clicked his tongue.
"Fred and George!" she exclaimed, proud that she had figured out the twins' names, even if it wasn't that hard.
"Well Fred, this damn near brings a tear to my eye," the one, George she assumed, said, sniffling a bit.
"I know George; we are actually so renowned, that even the muggles have heard of us," Fred said, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye.
"I don't see what my parents being muggles has to do with anything," Hermione proclaimed, hoping that by lifting her chin up she portrayed confidence; her mother always told her it would
"Your parentage has nothing to do with this ickle first."
"I have a name you know."
"But wouldn't you be proud if your knowledge was known, even among the wizarding world?" Fred asked, surprising her; she didn't think these two would be so easily able to read people.
"I'm Hermione Granger, what are your names?" Hermione was a bit more eager to talk to them now that status didn't seem to be a problem.
"I'm Fred Weasley."
"And I'm George Weasley."
"But you called him George and you called him Fred," she protested, pointing at each ginger in turn, proving her point.
"Well then Granger, that solves it," Fred started, and this time, she waited for George to finish the sentence before she interrupted.
"We are now, officially," George continued.
"Taking you under our wing!" The two finished together, and the way they said it made it seem like a wonderful offer.
"Does this mean that I can sit with you two today?" Hermione knew she sounded pathetic, but she didn't want to suffer standing in this forsaken hallway any longer. That is, if they said yes.
The twins gave each other a look, and briefly she wondered if all twins were as in tune with the other's thought and emotions as these two were, identical or not.
"Of course Hermione, and just wait until you meet our friend, Lee Jordan, he's a real character," George said, placing an arm around her shoulders, and Hermione tried to resist the urge to shrug him off.
"I can get my own trunk, thank you." Hopefully she didn't sound too bossy; the kids at school always said she did.
"Oh please, Granger, we saw the way you were lugging this thing down the hall; you'd break your arms if you tried to bring it to the compartment," Fred said, rolling his eyes. It was truly amazing how he dragged the trunk like it was nothing.
"C'mon Granger, stop checking out my brother so we can head to the compartment," George laughed, messing up her already bushy hair.
"Hey! And I was doing no such thing!" Honestly, she wasn't!
"Don't worry Granger; women can't seem to resist my charms."
"You two are daft."
XXX
The ride to Hogwarts had been fun; Hermione had met more nice people, like Neville Longbottom, Harry Potter, and even Fred and George's younger brother, Ronald, who was sort of cute if she might add, in a messy, unkempt kind of way. Unfortunately, the time for being carefree was over; Hermione had just been called up to the front of the great hall and all eyes were on her, a feeling she wasn't quite used to. Professor McGonagall, a very old woman who seemed very nice and like a wonderful teacher placed the musty sorting hat on her head, probably doing even further damage to her hair.
Or maybe you're doing even further damage to my interior fabric.
Hermione nearly jumped out of her seat, trying not to look around for the source of the voice; she already knew where it was coming from.
I can see you doing great things if you're placed in Ravenclaw, the hat said, his voice sounding as old as time and just as knowledgeable.
Ravenclaw? She racked her brain, trying to remember what Fred, George, and Lee had told her about the houses as well as what she had learned in Hogwarts: A History. According to the boys, Ravenclaw was a house for everyone who was going to get O's on their O.W.L.S., and according to her new favorite book, Ravenclaw was the house of wisdom and knowledge. Did she know anybody in Ravenclaw? Of course not; Fred, George, and Lee were in Gryffindor, and that's where Harry, Ron, and Neville wanted to be.
No Ravenclaw, then? Well, I suppose you would prosper just as well in Gryffindor, maybe even more so. You know what? I can see you becoming a bright young woman if you were placed in that house, maybe even the brightest witch of your age.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The house cheered, and somehow, above all of those people, you could hear three voices yelling "GO HERMIONE!" at the top of their lungs, and it made her smile all throughout dinner.
"So what did the hat say Hermione?" George asked once everyone was sorted as he ruffled her hair, something that he seemed to like to do, but she couldn't complain since apparently they were all on a first-name-basis now.
"He said that, in Gryffindor, I might be able to become the brightest witch of my age!" She was smiling still, all teeth, and the three boys were smiling back at her.
"Hmmm, I can see it," Lee said, giving her a scrutinizing look and turning to George.
"Me too Lee, and the sorting hat is never wrong," George nodded, and the two fixed their looks on Fred. "What about you, my wonderful twin, wouldn't you say that she has a-"
"Certain glow to her?" It was weird to see George talking in unison with someone else.
Fred looked down at the table and bit into a turkey leg harshly (Weasleys seemed to have quite an appetite). "Shut up, you gits."