You got me! I'm really J.K. Rowling in disguise, wasting my time writing fanfiction when I should be writing the sixth book. No, really I am. If I was lying do you think I would be sitting here with my bank account full of exactly 51 dollars. I didn't think so
I would also like to thank my friends whiterabbit5, calmhysteria, and ESP for helping me write this story.
Be sure to check out ESP's Harry Potter stories, especially the OC ( In no relation to the TV show, thank god.).
If you have any advice for me please include it in the review!
Hermione is stupid. She may be the cleverest witch of our age, but she's still stupid. I know that ugly ball of fluffy orange is out to get Scabbers, I know it! But she won't admit it. I'm not on speaking terms with her. For the fourth time this week, I do not want to share a divination pouf with her!
I tell Harry to tell her to scoot over. He ignores me. Can you believe it! At least he's not taking sides. Yet.
Trelawny comes over, probably to predict Harry's death. Again. Even though she is a fraud, I'm still worried about Harry. Grims or no grims, he is the target of at least two mass murderers.
"Yeech, we're starting crystal balls today." I say, pulling the cloudy globe towards me.
"Divination is the most unreliable branch of magic," Hermione sniffs in distain, not for the first time in this classroom. "Even Professor McGonagall says so."
"Teacher's pet," I mutter, loud enough for her to hear.
She turns around to tell me off, but her elbow knocks the crystal ball over the edge of the table. She groans and crawls under the table to pick it up, in an undignified way.
After a few moments of silence from underneath our table, I wonder what's taking her so long. As I lean under to see, I ask, "Hey Hermione! Found gold or something?"
But when I lift up the tablecloth, no one's there.
"What the-?" I look up at Harry in confusion. But before he can offer an explanation, my mind goes blank. Because now I'm staring over Harry's shoulder at the girl who's just appeared by the case of teacups, which have recently been packed up.
Her eyes are squeezed shut in desperate hope. Her hands clenched in fists, she stands rigid, silent, almost trembling. She doesn't look much older than Hogwarts age. Her hair is long, and brown, and nearly breaking from its confinement in a hair tie. Her face is pale, and her features oddly striking. All eyes are fixated on this one, strange girl, and I know we're all wondering the same thing.
"Did you Apparate here?" Dean asks tentatively.
Her eyes snap open, revealing dark hazel.
"You can't Apparate or Disapparate on the Hogwarts grounds!" She barks shrilly in a peculiarly familiar voice. Her eyes widen as she looks frantically around the room, her eyes landing on me.
Her mouth opens to say something (I can't imagine what) but she instead lets out a sob and dashes towards me, smothering me in a hug to rival my mum's.
"Hermione?" At my left, Harry whispers this startling revelation. I stare at him in shock and then slowly step back from the girl who is currently bawling on my shoulder. I stare at her with transformed significance. Her eyes are starting to get red and puffy from the tears she sheds and she hardly notices me staring at her.
She turns around suddenly and jolts over to Harry, giving him as much a smothering embrace as she gave me. STILL SOBBING!
"What the bloody hell is going on here and where is Hermione!?" I yell taking some of the attention off of the SOBBING girl.
"Ron don't swear you prat, I'm right here!" The imposter 'Hermione' says .
"But.....but....you...you're" I seem to have lost all ability to speak. "You're too old to be Hermione! And you've got...well, you know." And I motion, not at all obscenely, at her boobs. I can already feel the heat rushing to my cheeks as I turn a
deep shade of crimson. I just notice the whole class is staring at us with stunned looks on their faces.
"Ronald Billius Weasley! Just what exactly are you trying to point out!?" She shrieks.
I wave my fist threateningly "What did you do with Hermione, where is she!? Tell me!"
"I already told you!" She rolls her eyes, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I am Hermione, and put your fist down, Ron." She carelessly waves my fist away, as if the mere thought of me hurting her is preposterous.
Professor Trelawney watched on with a stunned and angry expression playing across her face. "All three of you out, OUT!" She yelled. "Resolve this matter with the Headmaster. Now!" Which to me says a lot, because she never yells.
I can hear murmurs and whispers spreading through the class like wildfire.
Dazed, I walk out. As soon as we go down the ladder Hermione goes last, and when I looked up I catch a glimpse of her black knickers. And once again I'm as red as a tomato!
On our way there the Hermione-imposter was practically skipping, and humming with delight.
I hope you liked it!
-popppincorn
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