This is a collection of ten one-shots I wrote in my Creative Writing class. Each is from the point of view of a different Harry Potter character, although Hermione's point of view is used twice. The stories are at various parts of the series; this first one in from Hermione's point of view on the train home from Hogwarts.
Homecoming. Coming Home. I sit in the compartment my friends and I occupy, my forehead resting on the on the freezing cold glass as I stare at the quickly passing countryside. After the long, hectic year, I have a feeling summer will be dreadfully boring. Memories of the last few weeks surface in my mind: facing fluffy the three-headed dog with nothing but a wooden flute, falling through the trapdoor into a writhing room of Devil's Snare (I really lost my head in there – I can't believe I forgot I could just conjure fire with a spell!), helping Harry catch the key to the door, fighting across the chess board (I was so worried about Ron; that queen hit him hard!), and finally leaving Harry in the room of potions. Harry still hasn't told us exactly what happened in that last chamber. Sure he told us most of it, but I have the nagging feeling he glossed over or 'forgot to tell us' some bits. He's been quieter ever since he came out. I hope it wasn't too horrible.
My gaze moves from the window to the boys, who are talking about Quidditch and sharing a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans. Harry glances at me and motions at the candy, asking if I want any, so I smile and eat one of the jelly beans. Immediately my face screws up in disgust.
"Eugh! I got an ink flavored one."
Harry and Ron laugh before asking how I know what ink tastes like. Deciding to annoy them a bit, I just smile mysteriously – it irritates them to no end. Honestly, though, I expected them to know how I know what ink tastes like. With everybody doing work at the dining tables, some ink is bound to get into the food. And inevitably someone will accidentally eat some ink-covered food while distracted by a particularly riveting book. And that someone has, more often than I care to admit, been me.
My eyes fall to the window again and I sit up in surprise. We're back! The train rolls to a stop at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, which is filled with people. I spot Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's red hair without much trouble, but my own parents will be outside the barrier. Not for the first time after the whole Sorcerer's Stone debacle, I wonder whether I should tell my parents the whole truth about what happened during my time at Hogwarts. They always have worried about me, and I don't want them to keep me from going back to Hogwarts because it's 'too dangerous'. Sure, there were some dangerous bits during the year, but nothing too bad except for Harry nearly dying and Ron getting hurt by that queen – ok, so maybe that bit was awful, but I still don't want them to keep me away from Hogwarts. It's the first place I've ever made real friends. Oh well, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it, and I won't reach the bridge for at least five more minutes.