Back in February 2010, Mike and I were discussing the concept of fan fiction. After talking over an extensive period of time, we decided to collaborate on this amusing little story, combining his elaborate alternate mythos (and I mean friggin' ELABORATE; the man's always thinking about SOMETHING) with my experience writing darkfic, to make, well, the following story come to life. It clearly took a while to get off the ground, but that doesn't change how we feel about it. I hope everyone enjoys reading this story as much as we enjoyed writing it.

Side note: Future chapters are not going to be appropriate for younger audiences due to reasons yet to be determined and reasons to be kept secret because we're stinkers like that. Mike's a tricky one; I'll let you know about the time it starts to get a bit squicky. No promises though, as your mileage may vary.

Oh, and by the way, neither Mike nor I own Harry Potter rights. We're just jaded young adults who like to mess with people and their childhoods.

-Marty

Hold My Hand

Finding Your Feet: Chapter One

28 June 1991

Hattie, the most peculiar thing happened today as I came home from the library. There was an owl perched on the fencepost. It looked at me sort of funny. It was the funny one; a tawny owl in the middle of the day! We learned about owls last month in school, as you recall. It was all rather odd to me. Then again, I am the odd one around here.

I had a row with Francois again during lunch. She made fun of my hair and teeth, saying I was the ugliest thing she had ever seen. Lupita, Wendy, and Juna all agreed with her and the whole table ended up laughing at me, calling me names, and saying I was stupid for writing to you since you're just a book. I am glad to be on vacation now—none of them go towards the library or my house. It should all be safe for two wonderful months. The only person I'll probably see from school is Jeremié while I'm at the library, and he's a bit creepy, so I'll just avoid him like usual. Mrs Corner the librarian likes me, so I'm sure she'll help me out.

Mum and Dad should be home tomorrow from their dental conference over in America. They say they're bringing me home some presents to make up for being gone so long. I wonder what they're bringing back. Anyways, I just want them home so that I don't have to check in with Mr Smith all the time. He has been so depressed since Sammy died. Sammy was a good dog, but it's been months already. I just don't think elderly hearts mend as easy, it seems.

30 June 1991

I still can barely believe what I experienced today! There was this elderly woman dressed in funny clothes that came to my house. She handed my parents a letter and told me that I was accepted to a school called 'Hogwarts' in Scotland that was specifically designed for wizards and witches. She explained that there was a whole, huge community of magical people living with and hidden from 'Muggles', or non-magic folk. She is the deputy headmistress there, it seems. Professor McGonagall said that the time when Francois's hair caught on fire two years ago was because of me. I was doing magic. I had only thought how lovely it would be if she did not have all that long, golden hair that always behaved when it should. She was teasing me and I couldn't help it. Apparently, people have done worse things before they learned to control their magic and with less reason to do so.

Mum and Dad are debating on letting me go. I think it would be wonderful to go to a magic school instead of that girls' academy that's across town we were thinking about or the comprehensive school everyone else is going to. If I don't go, I can either apply to a different school in Europe or overseas or let my ability be sealed off by an official from the Ministry of Magic. I really do hope to go. Hogwarts sounds too lovely to not go.

12 July 1991

Mum, Dad and I went to Diagon Alley today to get my supplies for school. They decided last week that I was allowed to go to Hogwarts, so we went early with our lists. Professor McGonagall came with us so that we knew where to go for which items. Apparently, most of the other students are still on the lookout for their acceptance letters and supply lists. Muggle-borns like me get theirs early so that a teacher can accompany them to the different shops and show them the difference between different-grade cauldrons and which shops have better reputations and everything. We even went to the bank, which was run by a bunch of ugly, squat little men that Professor McGonagall referred to as goblins. Since we don't have wizarding money, we had to get our pounds exchanged. Dad tried to explain his credit card to the goblin, but it did not seem to quite sink in. We were there for a good portion of an hour explaining the concept of credit cards to the various goblins there. They seemed fascinated by the little piece of plastic—well, that's what Mum said on the drive back home.

There was very large man that Professor McGonagall introduced to us in Diagon Alley. His name was Rubeus Hagrid and he is the gamekeeper at Hogwarts. He was taller and broader than any man I had ever seen before! He said that he was looking for some sort of repellent for a thing called a 'skrewt'. I asked him what those were and he just laughed and said that I would learn about those eventually. He then went down another alleyway, which Professor McGonagall told us to never go down unless we know exactly what we're doing. It doesn't have the nicest people there, apparently. Hagrid knows what to do and where to go though, so she said that he would be fine.

You know, Hattie, I'm still having a bit of trouble believing the fact that the wizarding world has been kept separate and hidden for so long from the Muggles. I don't see why it is so important. Professor McGonagall had explained some of it to Mum and Dad, but it sort of goes over their heads. I know they're too busy thinking about their dental practice to worry too much over a history that has never concerned them in the first place. That's why I insisted on getting a few history books on the side when we got my textbooks; these seem like very interesting people and I think it would be neat to learn more about them before I actually get to school. Maybe there, I might be able to fit in a little better than I did in primary school. I've even decided to take a course on Muggle Studies, so that I can see how the magical world sees the non-magic side of things. Oh, it's all so exciting! I better get started on those books.

6 August 1991

I just finished reading through all of the books we bought in Diagon Alley. There are so many spells and potions and things I have to remember. I should be able to give everything a quick glance-over before I have to get on the train on the First of September.

The history books are the ones that have been quite interesting. There are wizarding communities all over the world and not just here in Britain! A lot of the communities formed along with the Muggles, so there are places in the Americas and in the former colonies that have magical schools just like Hogwarts and even different forms of government and politics! I think once I get to school, I am going to look in the library and see what kind of books there are on international magical history and politics. I will, once I get accustomed to the workload of course.

I wonder what my teachers are going to be like or if I will get along with the other students. What kind of things will I be able to see there? Will I make fast friends? Are there other oddballs like me?

Mum and Dad are out at a conference again. Since they are going to be a while, I'm staying with Mr Smith. He seems very interested in my studies. The fact I was reading a book on Potions didn't seem to bother him. He told me his wife was a Squib… which is what they call non-magic people born to wizarding families. She apparently tried to do many, many simple Charms and Potions while she was alive, but could never do anything. Honestly, I don't remember Mrs Smith doing anything of the sort. She died when I was about six, so I don't really remember everything about her, but I know I would have remembered something like a spell or potion. That was before I got you to write in, Hattie. She was a kind old grandmother, like how Mr Smith's like a grandfather. I will miss him while I'm away. I'll miss Marjorie too. That's Mr Smith's new dog, by the way. She's a large, huggable Labrador puppy.

Oh, and I ran into Juna at the library today. I guess her elder brother had her enrolled in a summer reading course. She was not pleased, to say the least. Then Francois showed up while her mum was returning some romance novels and they started teasing me, saying that my hair is wretched and fluffy and the only way I could do any worse is if I dated a ginger. I don't know who was more shocked when Francois's hair went up in flames, her or the clerk at the front desk. If Professor McGonagall knew, she'd be likely to put me in detention on my first night—but I had to. You know Francois; she has to be taught a lesson. At least I haven't gone to school yet, so it's unlikely that I would get caught for letting her hair flame up for the second time. She shouldn't have stood by the window with the sun coming in like that and the air being so dry.

1 September 1991

I can't sleep! We leave for London in a few hours! Then, I get to board the train to Hogwarts! Professor McGonagall is going to meet us, along with a couple other Muggle-borns, at King's Cross and teach us how to access the platform. I've been to King's Cross loads of times and none of those times did I ever see a Platform 9 ¾. There must be some sort of magical trick to it.

Oh! I think I hear Dad! He'll be furious if he catches me awake at this hour! I'll be sure to write all about my adventures later!

Hermione Granger stepped out of her parents' car and bounced happily around the car park. It was a pleasant day for a train ride, which only made the girl more excitable. It was ten o'clock and the train was set to leave in an hour. Her father placed her trunk on a trolley and they began the task of making their way through the crowd at King's Cross. There were many other children there with their families, and it seemed as if there were a few other trains that were headed out with boarding schools in mind. It did not take long before Minerva McGonagall's tall, austere form could be seen standing between Platforms Nine and Ten, accompanied by a few others.

'Ah, Miss Granger, I am glad to see that you have finally made it,' McGonagall smiled. 'We just have to wait for one more student and we are ready to enter the platform.'

'Are you sure there is an extra platform here?' Mr Granger asked. 'I've been around here hundreds of times and I have never seen this nine-and-three-quarters that you speak of.'

'She says it is here,' said one of the other fathers. He was a tidy man with a respectable air about him. 'It's got to be some sort of trick of the eye or something. I'm Entwhistle, by the way.'

'Granger; my little girl's starting this year.'

Hermione ignored her father as he socialized, which is what she had learned to do after attending so many dinners with important guests. She looked at the other students, none of whom seemed as shy as she was. Nervous, maybe, but shy? Not in the slightest.

'Sorry we're late!' shouted a woman as she ran down the platform along with her son. She was a very tall, thin Black woman, with a son that clearly inherited her build. 'The buses were running a bit behind schedule, I'm afraid. I think one must've broken down on our route.'

'That is quite alright, Mrs Thomas,' McGonagall said cordially. 'Muggle transportation can be extremely reliable, but unfortunately not foolproof.' She turned her attention to the group of people gathered in front of her and cleared her throat.

'Now I will explain this only once: in order to access Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, you must head towards the barrier here between Platforms Nine and Ten. Do not dawdle and try not to think of the brick you see before you. All humans, Muggle and Wizard alike, see brick here and it is most important that you trust in the fact you will emerge on the other side. Oh! Nancy! There you are! Will you and young Seamus please demonstrate for us proper entering procedure?'

McGonagall had spotted a woman with sandy blonde hair and her young son as they just came into view around the barrier. The boy looked a bit skittish at the prospect of encountering a teacher already, particularly one that knew his name without introduction, but his mother smiled in reply.

'I see you're in charge of the Muggle-borns this year, aren't ya Professor?' she chuckled. Without even breaking step, the two of them walked briskly at the wall together until they vanished behind the brick. Hermione's eyes went wide.

'Are they at the platform now, Professor?!' she asked.

'Yes they are,' McGonagall answered. 'Why don't you go next, Miss Granger? You seem eager to try.'

Hermione nodded silently and straightened her back as she gripped the handle to her trolley. After a deep breath, she ran at the barrier. She could her hear mother call out at her as she clenched her eyes shut and braced herself for the impact of the wall. She felt the trolley crash into something and a voice rang out.

'Do watch where you are going,' sighed a voice. Hermione opened her eyes and saw a man standing in front of her with a trolley—the very trolley hers had just crashed into. Hermione looked around nervously; the platform was unfamiliar and she could not see her parents. A girl with strawberry-blonde hair and a large smile popped out from behind the man with the trolley and went right up to Hermione's face, looking curiously.

'I've never seen you before,' she giggled. 'I'm Daphne! What's your name?'

'Her-Hermione… Hermione Granger.'

'You wouldn't happen to be a relation of the Dagworth-Grangers, would you?' asked the man Hermione assumed was Daphne's father. Hermione shook her head nervously and the man frowned. 'Come along, Daphne, dear. Your mother and Tori are waiting for us.'

'…but Daddy! What if we're in the same House?!'

'Not with that girl, I'm afraid,' he said, walking away. Hermione blinked for a moment before she turned around and saw her parents walk through the brick wall. They were equally flabbergasted as she was.

'There you are, child!' her mother gasped as both Grangers ran up to their daughter. 'Thank goodness you got through alright! I almost had a heart attack when you disappeared!'

'I'm fine, Mum…' Hermione replied. 'Come on! Let's get my trunk on the train!'

'GRYFFINDOR!'

Hermione jumped down from the stool and ran over to join the table full of cheering students. She sat next to a tall, ginger boy who wore a badge on his chest. He shook her hand firmly and patted her on the shoulder with his free hand.

"Welcome to Gryffindor House," he said. "My name's Percy and I'm one of the prefects. If you ever have any questions about Hogwarts, then just ask."

'Oh, that's quite alright,' Hermione replied. 'I read all about the castle in Hogwarts, A History over summer.' The prefect chuckled and clapped for 'Greengrass, Daphne' and next 'Goldstein, Anthony' as they were being Sorted.

Hermione turned her head and looked around the Great Hall as she continued clapping politely for her fellow First Years. It was a grand place with a beautifully bewitched ceiling and a warm atmosphere. The only thing that felt amiss was a group of students not that much older than Hermione stood nervously in the back of the Hall. The girl had little time to wonder about who they were before the table erupted into a deafening roar when a scraggly-looking boy with baggy clothes and black hair was Sorted into Gryffindor House. The Sorting Hat had taken a long time with him. It was not until the last of the First Years were Sorted that they had calmed down to the volume of the rest of the Hall.

Dumbledore stood up and the rest of the hall quieted once again. He looked rather sombre to Hermione, which was a shocking change from the amiably wise man he had been merely moments before.

'Third years,' he began. The students that had been standing in the back of the hall shuffled forward down the centre of the room, just as the first years had done, except silently and without instruction.

'I'm sorry, but what's happening?' Hermione asked Percy quietly. 'Aren't they already Sorted?'

'They were,' he said. He then paused. 'Pardon me for asking, but are you a Muggle-born?'

'Yes.'

'Don't be sheepish now—I'm sure plenty of other Muggle-born students are pondering the same thing. This is just the Evaluation ceremony.'

'Evaluation?' Hermione watched as a student sat down on the stool and was sorted into Ravenclaw.

'When you're sorted into your first year house, that's the house best suited to your initial formation as an individual witch or wizard. Unfortunately, the Sorting Hat can only see potential and not the specific experiences a person is going to face or how they will ultimately react to them. Magic can be very powerful, but it would defeat many purposes if we could see into the future. It is because of this instance of free will that after their first two years in Hogwarts, students are evaluated and sorted again into the house most suited to their refinement of the skills and traits they have been developing."

"Are people often made to switch houses?"

"It depends on the year, really. My year stayed roughly the same, but my elder brother Bill's classmates were nearly all shuffled around. The only house that never has anyone Evaluated in from another house is Slytherin. One or two a year might get Evaluated out, but none come in from the outside. I believe it has happened all of six times in the school's history. It routinely gets blamed on the high House standards Salazar Slytherin set in place during the Founding.'

'Why does it say nothing about Evaluation in Hogwarts, A History? I must have read it through twice and there was absolutely nothing about this!'

'It is an unwritten tradition of sorts. If a wizard's house is named, then I can assure you it was their second house.'

'So then, I'm going to have to be Sorted again…?'

'I wouldn't worry about it,' Percy said, putting a brotherly hand on Hermione's shoulder. 'The Sorting Hat only moves people who really want to be moved. Could you believe it asked me if I wanted to go to Hufflepuff? Twice? The nerve!'

Hermione watched as the rest of the Third Years went to their respective Houses. A few had their uniform colours change as soon as the Sorting Hat bellowed its next decision. It made the girl nervous, but her jitters thankfully vanished once the tables began magically filling with some of the most delicious-looking food she had ever seen.