Author's Note: This story was written for Round 2 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition The prompt was to write about a character doing something, and my team chose Hermione as our character and "riding" as her action. I had fun writing this—I actually wrote brief appearances for my OCs Brett and Megan Lau, who appear in my main Harry Potter fanfiction project. My optional prompts as a Chaser were:
6. (Dialogue) "I prefer my eggs sunny side up."
8. (Dialogue) "Hatred knows no bounds, huh."
11. (Word) jumbled

Enjoy!

"Hermione, sweetie, move along! If you take too long, you'll miss the train to your new school!"

Hermione Granger sighed and quickened her pace to catch up to her mother, who was slightly ahead of her, pushing the cart. "Mom, I'm nervous," she said quietly. "All the kids at my old school didn't like me…they said I looked like a beaver and made fun of me all the time. What if the kids at Hogwarts do the same?"

Mrs. Granger smiled and shook her head. "Oh, Hermione. Those kids at your old school were just mean, and jealous because you got better grades than any of them. These kids will be different…they're from a different kind of place, they'll appreciate you the way you are!"

Hermione looked up at her mother, her eyes hopeful but her thoughts absolutely jumbled, unsure of whether to be optimistic or cynical. "You really think so?"

"Just do what I've always told you. Go in there, smile at people, say 'hi' and introduce yourself, that's how you make friends. You're a wonderful, intelligent, brave girl." Mrs. Granger stopped, putting both hands on her daughter's shoulders. "They'll see that beauty inside of you."

"Mrs. Granger, I'm sorry, but this is where you must say goodbye to your daughter." The crisp, professional voice of Will Davies, the Ministry of Magic official from the Department of Muggle Relations who had been sent to assist Hermione in buying her books and school supplies, as well as assist her in reaching her train. "I'll be in touch with necessary updates, and I'll help facilitate letters between you two."

"It's okay, Mom." Hermione spoke up, seeing the tears welling in her mother's eyes. "I'll be home for Christmas. And I'll write you and Dad every week."

Mrs. Granger inhaled deeply. "Alright," she said at last, and gathered her daughter in for a big hug. Hermione hugged her mother tightly, inhaling her mother's scent—perfume, antiseptic, lavender laundry soap, and warmth—one last time. "I love you, Hermione. Be good. And remember what I told you."

Hermione smiled and nodded. "I love you, too, Mom. And I will, don't worry. I'll make friends and study hard and become a great witch."

"Okay. Write to me tomorrow, first thing in the morning. And don't forget to come home for Christmas, no matter what a great time you're having at school." Mrs. Granger kissed her daughter on the cheek and hugged her for a moment longer before letting go. "I love you, sweetie. See you Christmas."

"Love you, Mom. Goodbye."

Mr. Davies cleared his throat. He was a slight, impatient man, quite tall and thin as a rail. "Miss Granger, we have a schedule to keep. Let's move on."

Hermione took the cart from her mother and nodded a last goodbye, then followed after Mr. Davies, who had taken off down the platform at a rapid pace.

He approached the divider between platforms 9 and 10. "You have your ticket, Miss Granger?"

"Yes!" She drew it from her pocket. "Here it is."

"Alright. Just walk right through that wall and you'll be on platform 9 ¾."

She looked at him incredulously. The wall was solid. "What?"

"Just…do it at a run, it helps if you're nervous. Be quick about it, though—don't take all day."

Hermione stared at the wall. Alright. She thought, My cart will go first, so if anything, my trunk takes most of the damage, not me. She took a deep breath and pushed the cart towards the wall. Closer…closer…

And through.

Indeed, she passed right through the seemingly-solid wall as easily as if it were air. And then she was on the other side, on Platform 9 ¾. A purple steam engine sat on the tracks. A sign overhead read, "The Hogwarts Express."

She let out the breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding. I'm really here.

Mr. Davies showed up behind her a moment later. "Best not to linger here. If someone comes through quickly, they might run into you." He pulled her away to a place, further down the platform, where several small, strange creatures took control of her trunk—"We'll handle it, Miss!"—and to a car a few meters away, where he opened the door for her. "From here you are under the care of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The train leaves in a few minutes, you'd best climb aboard. Any questions?"

She shook her head and climbed aboard.

Mr. Davies nodded. "Alright, then. This is where I leave you. Good luck, Miss Granger." And with a crack, he was gone—vanished on the spot.

Hermione's smile faded the instant the man vanished. Now I find friends to ride the train with. She coached herself silently as the train began to move. Just go up to someone, smile, and introduce yourself. It's that simple.

Down the corridor, a girl who looked to be about Hermione's age exited a compartment. She was about Hermione's height—maybe an inch shorter—with dark, slanted eyes, golden skin, and thick, dark hair that hung in one long braid down to her waist. Hermione approached her and smiled brightly. "Hello there, I'm Hermione Granger. What's your name?"

The girl looked oddly at her. Hermione closed her mouth, self-conscious again about the size of her front teeth. "Um…hi there…Her-my-oh-knee? What kind of name is that?"

"Oh! A name based in Ancient Greek mythology," Hermione rattled off immediately, delighted that the girl seemed interested in talking. "In Greek mythology, Hermione was the only daughter of Menelaus and Helen—story of the Trojan war, quite fascinating one, really. But my parents actually got the name from William Shakespeare's The Winter's Tale. They liked the name, didn't really know its history until after they'd given it to me…"

"Alright…" The girl shifted uncomfortably, looking up and down the corridor. "That's interesting…I don't really…who is William Shakespeare?" She bit her lip immediately, as if regretting that she'd asked another question instead of clearing out.

"Oh, he's a writer, quite talented too—sit with me on the train, I'll tell you all about him!" Hermione was almost squealing with delight by then.

The girl squirmed slightly. Suddenly, the door of the compartment she'd just left slid open, and an older boy stuck his head out into the corridor. "Everything alright out there, Megan?" he called out, "It doesn't seem you've made much headway on finding Cho…"

The girl, Megan, grinned, visibly relieved. "Oh, yeah, I've still got to find her. She's probably somewhere around here. Don't worry, Brett—I'm a second-year now, I can handle this myself."

Brett nodded. He bore quite similar features to Megan—probably her older brother, Hermione realized—and was only a few inches taller than her. His hair was close-cropped and he bore the severe expression of someone who'd seen—and heard—it all before. After a moment of staring at Megan, he turned his severe gaze onto Hermione. "Oh, who are you? Lost first-year? I know a few Prefects who could help you."

"I'm Hermione Granger. I'm a muggle-born witch, this is my first time really experiencing magic, but I'm quite excited, and I learn fast, so I'm not worried at all!" Hermione smiled eagerly. "Your name is Brett, then?"

Brett looked quite taken aback. He's probably just not used to muggle-born witches acting so confident when they first board the train. Hermione decided. Well, I'm not just any muggle-born witch. I learn fast, I know I can handle this!

"Yeah." It was Megan, and not Brett, who answered. "Listen, Brett, I think I'll look for Cho later. Let's just hang out in the compartment for now." She pushed quickly past Hermione and into Brett's compartment. Once in the compartment with her brother, she glanced back at Hermione. "You might want to find a compartment, it gets bumpy later on. But this one's full." She then slammed the door before Hermione could say anything else.

Hermione frowned. That was a bit rude, she thought, but shook it off. It's all in good time. I know their names. Brett and Megan. And they know mine. I'll talk to them another time, this is probably their time to be together as siblings before the school year makes that harder.

The train jerked suddenly, rounding a curve. Hermione stumbled, but caught herself just short of falling. I'd best find a compartment.

She passed several compartments, all full—one of the compartments held a pair of identical ginger-haired boys and probably had space for her, but she stopped to listen in for a moment before knocking on the compartment door.

"So, what do you think? Switch out a raw egg for the hardboiled one Filch always eats for breakfast? Shall that be our first prank of the year?"

"No way, Fred. We can do so much better—this is our yearly debut! We've gotta show 'em how much we've learned since last year, or they'll think we're slacking on our studies!"

"Yeah, you're right…golly, how does Filch eat hardboiled eggs every day? I hate hardboiled eggs."

"I prefer my eggs sunny side up."

"I like 'em scrambled with a bit of Zonko's fire-breather powder tossed in. And on Percy's plate."

"HA! That'd be a good one!"

"Shall we?"

Hermione cringed and walked away. Best not to associate with troublemakers. She was a good student. She didn't need that childish nonsense.

She was lost in thought as she moved on—recalling everything she'd read about potion-making theory and common ingredients—and almost crashed into someone further on. She stopped and hurriedly apologized to the boy—a blond boy about her age with a pale, pointed face. He sneered at her. "And who would you be?"

"Oh! I'm Hermione Granger. Pleasure to make your acquaintance!" She grinned and offered him a hand.

He stared at it in a way half-repulsed, half-amused. He turned to the large, beefy boy standing behind him—whom Hermione hadn't even noticed—and laughed. "Filthy mudbloods. They don't belong in our school." Then, to Hermione: "Go back to where you came from, you disgusting Muggle." He and the large boy then pushed past her, leaving her frozen to the spot, too stunned to move.

"Hatred knows no bounds, huh."

Hermione jumped—she hadn't even noticed that the compartment she stood by had someone in it. But sure enough, there he was, staring out at her—a nervous-looking, round-faced boy who smiled shakily at her from the door. He extended a hand to her. "Don't listen to them. My gran says some of the best witches and wizards of our time had muggles for parents. Only people like the Malfoys, who've got nothing else to be proud of besides their family names, really care about that. I'm Neville Longbottom."

Hermione smiled, relieved. "Thanks, Neville. I'm Hermione Granger."

"I know." He nodded. "I heard you out there. You can sit with me, if you like—no one else is here yet."

Hermione nodded gratefully and slid into the compartment.

"I hope you don't mind toads. My pet toad Trevor is in here with us…" Neville's smile suddenly dropped. "Trevor? Where'd you go?" He stood up and looked around. The toad was nowhere to be seen. He looked under the seats, in the luggage wrack, on the windowsill—Trevor was nowhere to be found. He flopped back, moaning in despair. "I've lost Trevor…my gran's gonna kill me!"

"Come now, the train's moving, he can't have gone far." Hermione shook her head. "We've just got to look for him, he's definitely somewhere on the train, right?" She rose to her feet. "I'll help you search. Come along, now…"

As Neville stumbled along behind Hermione, she felt nervous—things weren't shaping up to be like her mother had said they'd be. Even in the wizarding world, people still judged Hermione based on surface matters—her teeth, her parentage. Whatever inner beauty her mother had thought would shine through clearly hadn't reached these people yet.

But on the other hand, she had found a friend. Just one, albeit—but a friend nonetheless, one who respected her regardless of her appearance and her ancestry. There had to be others like Neville. And she knew she could find them. Looking for the toad, she could introduce herself to more people, maybe make another friend or two. The thought brought a smile to her face.

The train was suddenly filled with light—the tunnel it had been traveling through had opened out onto a plain of sunshine. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden brightness. But her vision grew clear again quickly. I'll get along just fine here. She thought with a smile, I might even make something great of myself, too. Well, not yet—I'm only in my first year. But maybe someday…