01
ignis fatuus
Foolish fire
A bushy haired girl stared hard at the platforms of the station, hoping to find a glimmer of light- a sparkle- or just about anything to prove she had not been played a bad joke. She knew magic was real, she had visited Diagon Alley herself and had spent hours trying to absorb everything about this supposedly new world. With her random outbursts of magic occurring at the most untimely situations, she had felt rather dumbfounded that she had not been able to draw the answer; gift of magic.
Hermione Granger, at the age of five and camping in the Forest of Dean, had followed the will-o'-the-wisps with utter fascination, cooing at them until she found herself being snatched up into her daddy's arms.
On her seventh birthday party, she had relighted her birthday candles. The incident led into couple of girls shrieking in fear and confusion, and boys asking her to light them again.
During year five of primary school, she had accidentally turned the hair color of her bully into what was a shocking shade of bubblegum pink. She had thought, with a confused but satisfied wonder, that he had deserved it.
But as she had no logical reasoning to provide an answer to her abnormalities she had just simply ignored them, until a certain tabby cat rang the front bell of her house.
A cat. Ringing a doorbell.
At first Hermione had thought she must be dreaming, oh, she really must refrain herself from staying up all night to read. Her parents had seemed to think the same and had stood warily in front of the door, where on the other side sat a cat continuously ringing a doorbell.
Curiosity got the best of her and she had already opened the door before her parents could protest. The cat had leaped into the sitting room with a graceful jump, calmly placing herself on the sofa before it flicked its tail, almost as if beckoning them to sit.
Bewildered, the Granger family had sat down on the opposite side of where the cat sat, which fixed its unwavering eyes at Hermione.
Making sure to cast a few wandless, wordless silencing charm around the house, the tabby cat proceeded to transform itself into its original form.
"What-" Mr Granger exclaimed, "just what in the world-?"
Minerva McGonagall tucked a few loose strands of black hair back into her hairdo and gave them a professional smile. "Good afternoon, Mr and Mrs Granger, and of course, Miss Granger. Allow me to introduce myself. I am the deputy headmistress and a professor of Hogwarts."
When the professor received nothing but blank stares she continued, "I am here to notify you personally of Miss Granger's acceptance to our school. I am pleased to tell you that Miss Granger had been noted for her unusual display of magic, and-"
"Magic?" Hermione interrupted, "what I did until now was magic?"
The black haired woman crinkled her eyes with amusement in the most minuscule way possible, "yes, yes I do hope so."
"And what and where would be this magical school?" Mrs Granger jumped straight into the newly bestowed information. She and her husband had known their daughter was not the most normal child, but magic was the last thing she'd have thought of.
With a flick of a strange looking stick, the deputy headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry materialised a crisp parchment envelope.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Miss. Granger,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress
"Owls?"
"In the wizarding world, owl system is used for mailing," the professor explained. "I'd like to explain more, but I am afraid I'm running rather late on time today. I have more letters to deliver to muggle-born students, you understand." McGonagall guilelessly turned herself back into her animagus form, blinking up at the Granger family through her green eyes.
"Then professor-," Hermione tried again, "where am I to find all these supplies?"
"Do not fret, Ms Granger, I was just about to inform. Tomorrow at half one, you will meet me on Charing Cross Road, London," the professor, now cat, meowed. "You will find me in this exact appearance, in front of a broken-down shop between a bookshop and a record store."
"How much money will she need?" Mrs. Granger asked. If her shelves of fictional novels were anything to go by, the currency would be different in the other world.
"At least 60 pounds is what I recommend, Mrs Granger. It would be nice for Miss Granger to have a Gringotts vault of her own."
"What are Galleons-"
"Now, as I have said before, I really must be going," the tabby cat pounced down from the sofa. "Miss Granger, you will be explained about other aspects of our world when other students like you arrive at the meeting spot."
Without giving the dumbfounded family a second glance, the cat had tapped the floor wood twice with her paw and vanished into thin air with a soft plunk.
Hermione felt her lips stretch into a smile as she remembered the day she first visited Diagon Alley. She had been immediately impressed with the view, cherishing each moment of her time spent there as she hungrily memorized each and every view of the place. It had been purely euphoric, she had skipped along with her equally fascinated soon-to-be-classmates as if she were on clouds, unwilling to let her feet sink into the ground for more than necessary.
It had been a significant turning point of her dull life, a life of mean school bullies who always liked to tease her and her hair that apparently had the same display as the fur of a mangy old cat.
Shaking her head out of her reminiscence, Hermione continued to pace around the space between platform nine and ten. Her parents had to go to work, so she had told them she would be fine all on her own. But now in her present predicament, she half wished her parents had stayed with her. Failure was not a synonym to her name, but it was only the first day of school, and she was already failing.
Looking down to the cart full of her new school supplies, she frowned. Clearly, she had either missed out on the directions or had remembered them incorrectly- highly unlikely- but she had to access her current problem realistically.
No matter how many times she paced back and forth the two platforms, she could not, for the life of her, find the platform nine and three-quarters. She swallowed a frustrated cry that threatened to climb up her throat, and looked around her surroundings.
From far, she saw a big blob of orange coming to her direction, and as it got closer to her, she found that it was a group of family, all with the same hair color. Hermione saw four of the boys were pushing similar carts similar to hers, and she longed to ask for directions, but quickly stopped herself just in case they were muggles. When she scanned her peripheral vision once more, her brown eyes locked onto a pair of green eyes of a black haired boy.
With a startling jolt, she quickly dug around her head and memories of books of the wizarding world she had already read and came to the conclusion the boy with a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead she was now staring at was indeed, the boy who lived.
Hermione broke her gaze as she caught one of the many red headed man suddenly disappear from the side of her frontal view. Bewildered, she quickly looked to see where he had vanished to, and found Harry Potter sporting a similar expression. Their eyes caught again, and silent agreements were made as they decided to approach the large family.
"Mum," the youngest member of the ginger pulled on her mother's skirt and whispered, "people keep staring at us."
"Don't be silly, Ginny dear, Daddy and I were extra cautious to cast the muggle repelling charm."
"No, look," the girl named Ginny pointed to Hermione and Harry, who now were taking unsure steps together towards the family.
Hermione noticed the remaining clan tensing as what she was sure to recognize as fear of being caught talking about magic and hurried to ease them. "Excuse me, ma'am, um, I was wondering-" she faltered in mid-speech as the rest of the family turned to look at her. The black haired boy standing next to her caught the hint.
"Uh, yes, well-" he stammered, "the thing is, we don't know how to, uh-"
"Get on platform nine and three-quarters, dears?" The motherly woman asked with an understanding voice. "Well, Ronnie here is also new with this so why don't you all have a go together?"
"Mum," the boy named Ron let out an exasperated sigh. "Don't call me Ronnie-"
"Well then, Ronniekins, and you dearies, can watch Fred and George go." The woman told them before pointing to one of the very identical looking twin, "George, would you go first?"
"Woman, at least get our names right!"
"Sorry, Fred dear."
"Only joking, I am George," the twin snickered wildly before running full force at the wall between the two platforms, his cart squeaking loudly with every step he took.
Both Hermione and Harry visibly flinched as George neared the barrier, but their eyebrows rose up to meet their hairlines when the twin suddenly went through the brick wall. They shared a look that only meant one thing; amazing, and waited for the smallest red haired boy to pull his cart next to them.
Without even bothering to introduce themselves to each other, they nodded together, determined to get to the platform on their first try.
"On the count of three," Ron said, "one… two…"
"THREE!" All three of them let out an passionate yell as they pushed their carts forward with all their might. Hermione wanted to stop any moment and tell them she just couldn't bring herself to slam into a wall, but she continued to run past and her cart's wheels continued to roll. She slowly peeled her eyes open, and saw the huge and beautiful red train.
"PERCY! FRED! GEORGE! RON!" A voice yelled from behind them, "THE TRAIN IS LEAVING SOON, HURRY UP AND GET ON THE TRAIN!" The kind woman's nostrils still slightly trembling after her bellowing, she turned to the trio.
"Oh, where are my manners," she quickly walked toward them, "Hello, dears. My name is Molly Weasley."
Ron grinned, "Ron Weasley."
"Hermione Granger, pleased to meet you Mrs Weasley and Ron."
"Thank you for helping us out there Mrs Weasley," the remaining boy said. "Nice to meet you, my name is Harry Potter."
All of them heard the not-so-veiled gasp from behind the Weasley matriarch's skirt folds. "Are you really-"
Ginny's squeaks were cut short by the loud steam noise from the train. "Hurry, or you will have to go next year with Ginny!" The small girl started to sniffle, using her mother's skirt to wipe her tears which seemed pointless as thick tears kept clustering around her bronze eyes.
"Well, go along now," Molly said, giving the newly met eleven year olds a nudge. "You should go before Ginny starts crying even more."
"Like that's possible," Hermione heard Ron mutter, "she already manages to flood our living room with her tears."
Harry snickered slightly, softening them when his eyes wandered over to the crying girl. "Ginny, was it?" Harry asked.
The the gingerette blushed in an interesting shade of crimson and nodded.
"I should thank you for noticing us," Harry said as he pointed to himself and Hermione. "Otherwise, I really might have had to go to Hogwarts next year." Despite being only a year older than her, he gave Ginny a friendly pat on her head.
Hermione suppressed a smile as she saw Ginny fumbling with her hands, her blush now even a darker shade of red than her hair.
"Bloody hell, can we get going already?" Ron rolled his eyes before getting on the train and pushing his way in through the hoard of people.
After teary goodbyes through the open windows and kisses Ron tried to evade from without success, the trio wandered down the aisle trying to secure a compartment for themselves.
It seemed like every compartment was filled, but at last they found an empty one near the back of the train. It took them ten minutes of suddenly birthed air of awkwardness, but all was dissolved when Ron pointed to Harry's Scar.
"So do you remember that, or what?"
"Seeing as he was only a year old, of course he wouldn't," Hermione commented in an important voice. She saw the red haired boy roll his eyes and she felt a twitch of shame as she realised she did it again. The bossy know-it-all attitude she was constantly teased for during her junior school years.
With a thornless tone, Harry explained about his living situations until now, and so therefore no, he did not know anything, much less did he remember about his parents' death.
She saw Ron sink back into his cushioned seat with a guilty look, and felt her previous embarrassment wash away and a newly found satisfaction replacing it. However, she stopped herself from making a catty remark.
As the clock clicked half past twelve, she noticed Ron staring at her and Harry as they paid for their sweets, the latter buying few of every kind available on the candy cart. Meekly, Ron unwrapped a sandwich letting out a low groan as he realised the kind, "Mum forgets I hate corned beef."
"I'll trade you some pumpkin pastries for one," offered Hermione, ignoring his questioning gaze. "I rather like corned beef, and I bought these to share."
"Yeah," agreed Harry. "Never had a friend to share food before, so come on, take one."
As they ate from their little smorgasbord, they found out what they had in common and what they didn't. They were all looking forward to school, mainly because all of them had not had much friends in their previous education.
She found out that Ron, whose name was actually Ronald Bilius Weasley, but hated being called by Ronald as he was only called that before being yelled at by his mum.
When she had learned Ron had five brothers before him, she and Harry shared a surprised look. "It's only my parents and I," she had said.
"Must've been lonely," said Ron, his mouth sticky with chocolate frogs.
"It wasn't all too bad."
They continued to share about themselves until a round faced boy barged into their compartment, named Neville, asking if they had seen a toad.
"Sorry," they said. Hermione wished to help the poor boy find his pet, but she was dragged back down by Ron when she rose to follow Neville out for his hunt for his toad.
"I saw him lose his toad before he got on the train, he'll be losing it a few more times today I think," said the boy. "You'll be wasting your time."
Hesitant, she sat down on her seat. "Do either of you know what House you'll be in?"
"Gryffindor," Ron replied almost immediately. "All of my family come from Gryffindor. Harry?"
"I just hope they don't kick me out after realising it was a mistake to accept me," said Harry.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You've been written in Modern Magical History, Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century, and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, really, do I need list more?"
The two boys blinked stupidly at her, causing her to gasp in half-joking horror."Goodness, don't tell me both of you haven't read these, they were on the bestseller booth at Flourish and Blotts!"
Hermione let out a sigh. "Harry, you should've tried to find out more about yourself. Honestly, were you not curious about this world at all?" She did not give him a chance to defend himself before chattering away, "you're famous! And I've read Hogwarts was a public school if we go by muggle standards, and keeping a big name like you in school guarantees best images!"
"Uhm, then I think I'll go with Gryffindor," Harry said, slightly intimidated by her.
"Good choice, mate, I heard your parents were both Gryffindors, too," said Ron.
"They were," Hermione confirmed. "Your father came from a Gryffindor family, so I think you'll be sorted one, too."
Ron turned to her, "How about you? Where are you hoping?"
"Glad you asked, I'm also aiming for Gryffindor," she told him. "Or maybe Ravenclaw, but I definitely don't want to be a Hufflepuff. I'd rather be classified by my intellect."
"Big lot of duffers," Ron commented, "seeing how much you obsess over books, Hermione, I doubt you would even be granted to walk near the Hufflepuff table."
"I bet I'm going to be a Hufflepuff," Harry again commented with a depressed voice.
"Still better than Slytherin, yeah?"
Hermione raised a knowing eyebrow. "Merlin was a Slytherin, you know?"
"So was You-know-who," Ron argued back. "ONE decent bloke out of that house, and you take the snakes' side."
She resisted the urge to give her eyes a generous roll. "I'm not taking sides, and besides I don't want to belong in that house anyway," she wrinkled her nose. "All I was trying to say was that you shouldn't be so prejudiced to other houses-"
The door of their compartment slid open, and a pale faced boy came in with his two friends tailing him from behind. The boy had a pointed chain, which was surprisingly becoming, accompanied by his almost-platinum blond hair and his grey eyes. She could feel her eyes lingering on the boy a second longer than she would've liked to.
"We've met before, Harry Potter," the blond offered. "Name's Draco Malfoy."
Hermione cast a puzzling look at Ron as he coughed a tad too loud to be a sincere one.
The boy named Malfoy quickly turned his lips down and sneered. "Oh, no need telling who you are, the Weasleys are famous for their red hair, freckles and having too many children than they can afford."
"So rude-" Hermione began as the ginger boy infront of her turned into the shade his sister had been when Harry had petted her head. Gone were her previous observation of his appearance, bringing back her flashes of the bullies at her previous school. "I would've thought eleven was more than enough years to learn manners, but you appear to prove me wrong-"
"And who might you be?" Draco Malfoy taunted, "A blood traitor girlfriend for a blood traitor boyfriend?"
"For your information, whatever a blood traitor is-"
Draco narrowed his eyes. Hermione could feel him scrutinizing her appearance, and she made a subconscious movement to pull her buckteeth back even just a little bit.
"You don't know what a blood traitor is," he repeated her and slowly took menacing steps toward her. "You've not been raised by a magic family?"
Hermione's eyes darted back to Ron and Harry, wondering what the deal was. Ron looked flustered whether by Malfoy's previous attack on his family or the current one on her, and Harry looked as confused as she felt. She saw Ron discreetly nudge Harry and being ever the fast one to catch on, Harry quickly stood up from his spot.
"I wasn't raised by a magic family, either, so I don't get what your deal is Malfoy," he said.
The pale boy turned to him with an intense look in his stone-grey eyes. "You were born into one, Potter," he said coldly. "You," he pointed his chin at Hermione, "what is your last name?"
"None of your business, is it?" Standing slightly in front of her, Ron growled. "All Malfoys get into Slytherin House, so you won't be seeing her, much less learn her name."
"Unfortunately for you, Weasley," Draco drawled, "all houses have joint classes, and I will be damned if I let a girl of her background roam the Hogwarts castle as if she owns the place."
Hermione snorted, "Hogwarts is not yours either."
"Ah, but you see, my father is one of the governors-"
Percy, the oldest Weasley on the train wisely choose that moment to come into their compartment. "We're nearing the school, so first years, get changed into your robes." The red haired man scowled at the intruding three. "Go back to your own seats, or I will be forced to make you."
With a hardening glare, Malfoy drew his lips back at Hermione, almost snarling. "Fine brother you have, Weasley," he said to Ron who flared up in anger once more. "Well, I must be going, and I look forward to see you all three being sorted."
Hermione thought she could hear the blond boy mutter something as he passed by her, but she couldn't quite catch what. Deciding not to give it too much thought, she quickly turned to thank the older Weasley. "Thank you, it really was getting tiring dealing with them. My name's Hermione Granger."
"I know, I was patrolling around the train and I heard you three," Percy said indifferently. "Again, get changed quickly and make sure to follow the prefects."
"Oh, were you a prefect, Percy? Never knew you know?" Ron's voice dripped with sarcasm.
As Percy strutted down the aisle to inform other students, the three newly-befriended eleven year olds quickly put their black Hogwarts robes on.
Hermione already felt their earlier clash with Malfoy webb away. Her excitation for the new semester of studying magic was far too great to be drowned by his rudeness.
As the train slowly came to a stop and she grabbed her trunk to move out of the compartment, she felt Ron's hand grasp her wrist and halting her. "Listen, Hermione," he said. "Don't go openly saying you are a muggle-born."
"Why?" Hermione frowned, there were already a handful of students who knew her birth, having gone to Diagon Alley together.
"Just don't," he said. "Not if you can help it."
She nodded. She had more important things to think about than her permittance of discussing her origin.
Hermione could practically feel her nervous waves of expectation roll off from her body as she watched an old and dirty looking hat singing a long song about himself, or the houses, she wasn't very sure.
She saw Professor McGonagall twitch with impatience when the Sorting Hat requested she read the roster from the back, contrary to the normal ways of reading off in the alphabetical order.
The red haired boy next to her tensed as he realised he would be the first out of the three to be sorted.
"Zabini, Blaise," the professor called, beckoning the dark skinned boy up to the stool where the Sorting Hat sat. "Pick up the hat, and place it on your head, Mr Zabini."
Almost instantly, the hat yelled out, "Slytherin!"
A satisfied look plastered on his rather handsome face, Blaise quickly walked to the long row of tables reserved for slytherins.
"Weasley, Ron!"
A wave of encouragement came, most gryffindors recognizing the surname. Hermione saw the twins drumming their fists into the table in an applause. She watched as he slowly made his way to the stool. His face was a sickening shade of pale green.
"Another Weasley," the hat exclaimed. "Why I remember when Arthur came up to me-"
"The sorting, if you would," a tired sigh came from the professor.
Ron looked sicker by the second. He could only imagine the torment he would receive from his brothers and the disappointment from his sister if he were to be placed into a house other than Gryffindor.
The Sorting Hat pretended to think, as teasing a Weasley family member was the most fun he could gather each year. "GRYFFINDOR!"
Loud yells and cheers came from the gryffindor table, Percy clapping Ron's shoulders as he came to sit with wobbly knees.
It took a longer sorting time for Harry, and Hermione would swear she saw the hat smirking in a teasing expression before he announced, "Gryffindor!"
The eruption of delight from the table was by far the loudest cheer she had heard that night. "We've got Potter, WOOHOO!" She saw a boy with dreadlocks and sitting between the Weasley twins yell, "BOOYAH!"
When Draco Malfoy's turn came, he sat on the stool without a hint of nervousness. The hat had barely been placed on his head before it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"
The calls and clapping from the Slytherin table was almost as loud as the one for Harry, but quickly resided as another student named MacDougal come up to be sorted.
She laughed as Neville, who had gone before her, had come come back from the gryffindor table to pass on the hat. With shaky fingers, she sat on the stool to steady her nervous waves of her body before looking at the gryffindor table.
Hermione could see Harry and Ron were keeping their fingers crossed, and the rest of the Weasley family looking at her with an expectant face.
She would be a Gryffindor, she thought, if her life depended on it.
Taking calming breaths, she tried to cede her shaking fingers and looked around the room to find the eyes of her friends but made the mistake of looking into a set of cold eyes with the color of storms. Malfoy gave her a cold sneer, before pointing at her and whispering to his two friends.
She refused to be affected by him, and with a feigned confidence she promptly jammed the hat on her head.
"Color me intrigued," the sorting hat muttered, loud enough for only her to hear. "Interesting… very interesting…"
Hermione squeezed her eyes tight in concentration. Oh please, Gryffindor, Gryffindor. Let it be Gryffindor.
"Gryffindor, eh?" the Sorting Hat said to her ear. "An all right match, but you have the qualities of being in Ravenclaw and Slytherin."
She shook her head in a desperate plea. "Please," she begged in a small voice, her eyes still closed shut. Not Slytherin, not Slytherin. Not the snakes..!
The moment the thought passed her mind, the hat snorted. "The snakes, you say?" he said loudly, his voice ringing out to the rest of the dining hall, making some students wearing green glare at her.
Professor McGonagall looked surprised by his new outburst, never having seen the hat yell loudly anything apart from the names of the four houses. The dining hall fell to an intense moment of quiet as they all awaited the judgement of the hat.
"No, please, I'm very sorry if I offended you," Hermione quickly rambled.
The hat seemed to ignore her plea, wondering in mumbles around her head as he decided where to place her.
"GRY-" the hat began, but by the most bizarre inkling of creativity that passed through him, the hat quickly continued,"-SLYTHERIN!"
The new level of silence in the halls suddenly became suffocating.
Ignis Fatuus: Will-o'-the-wisp, or also known as Foolish Fire. Depending on the nature of travelers, they are mislead from their path, or sometimes brought back to the right one.
AN: Reviews are like triple chocolate cookies for me in writing. Please review!
-ScarlettsMir