Small white clouds were billowing up from the red steam train, filling the air with the smell of coal and covering the bustling platform with a thin film of fog. Past the translucent river of steam, a whole host of multicoloured cloaks, from periwinkle green to egg shell blue, were flapping behind their owners as they rushed about the platform.
Hermione stood in the middle of it, clad in a plainly styled shirt, skirt and tie, only missing the distinctive Hogwarts cloak to set her uniform aside to any other muggle student. She breathed in the steamy air and grinned from ear to ear.
Finally! Oh gosh oh gosh! Finally she was here! This was really real. Well, she knew it was real since she got the letter and Professor Mcgonagall paid her parents a visit. But still! To be actually in front of the Hogwarts Express, actually about to go to an actual school of wizardry it was so- so-
"Amazing! Fantastic! Stupendous!" She exclaimed spinning around to face her parents, excitement shining clearly in her wide brown eyes.
Her parents gazed around in awe, but couldn't look quite as enthusiastic as their excitable daughter. (An impossible feat to be sure). Hermione didn't even notice as she span back and scanned her surroundings.
"Look Dad! Can you see all the owls? And look at all those cats. Is that one purple? It must be a Keezle. Mum! I can't believe we're here! There are so many people!"
Hermione's parents exchanged a fond look before drawing their daughter into a tight hug.
"Oh I'm going to miss her questions," her mum laughed, her gentle hands coming up to straighten out her tie.
"Make sure to make as many friends as you can. And write to us, Minny. I know phones don't work well with magic and all but we still want to hear from you," chimed in her dad, tucking a stray strand of frizz behind Hermione's ear and tapping the tip of her nose.
Hermione just grinned at them, too excited to register that her parents were saying goodbye. Instead her mind was entirely focused on getting on that magical train, seeing all her future classmates and possibly seeing some magic! Of course, she had seen some already, seeing as she'd tried a few spells herself. Just a few basic ones and they had worked fine. But she was sure that all those wizard-born students must know so much more than her! Perhaps she could use this as a chance to ask them some questions and catch up to their level just a bit.
With the help of her Mum and an attempt at help from her Dad, Hermione got her luggage up into an almost empty compartment. It's only occupant was a rather upset looking boy with large ears who seemed to be searching for something. She frowned at the boy, then glanced back at her parents who were waiting by the door on the platform with faint, sad smiles.
"We'll have to be off now, Mini-me," said her mum. "We need to get back in time for the afternoon session at the practice."
"Okay," returned Hermione, still half-watching the worried looking boy from the corner of her eyes.
Kisses and goodbyes were given, as well as her Dad's patented hug which incorporated a mixture of a bear hug and swinging Hermione around so fast her legs went flying. She burst into peels of laughter and ducked away from her Dad's head ruffling ways.
And then they were gone.
Whistles sounded and doors slammed as Hermione stared out of the window, her excited smile dimming slightly, before shaking her head and turning to face the worried looking boy.
"Hello, I'm Hermione Granger," she informed him, standing behind him and giving him her friendliest smile. The boy stopped frantically searching through his trunk and glanced round at her with round eyes, as if he hadn't even realised she had joined him.
"Oh, er, hi. I'm Neville. Neville Longbottom," he said, trying to give her a smile back, but instead giving her mouthful of wonky teeth bared in a rather uncivilised grimace. Hermione wasn't daunted by this though; Neville clearly had something on his mind.
"You've lost something, haven't you? I can help you find it," she told him.
Neville, it turned out, had lost something. His toad to be precise. He had it a few minutes ago in the corridor but when he came back it was gone. Hermione, never one to turn down the opportunity to possibly make a friend, volunteered to help him find it at once and devised a cunning plan.
"Let's split up and search for clues."
Neville didn't get the reference but that was fine. He had talked with her and tried to smile with her. And if she could get him to like her, surely she could get others to as well.
'See Dad,' she thought to herself as she made her way down the train. 'I am making friends already, just like you said.'
She searched each and every compartment she came across. Giving smiling introductions while scanning the floor for any hint of bubbly toad skin or drops of slime.
Most of the students seemed nice. Some of the older ones were even happy to answer some of her questions about houses and spells. Most of the ones from her year seemed utterly clueless though. Case and point, the famed Harry Potter and rather rude Ron Weasley. She was surprised that someone renowned to have once defeated 'He Who Must Not Be Named' hadn't even bothered to open a single book about himself. How moronic! They didn't even thank her for letting them know they were reaching the station soon. Some of the others did though, and that was all the encouragement that Hermione needed to go and let several other coach-loads of children know.
There seemed to be more of the older students towards each end of the train, with the younger years in the middle. Hermione was walking down the end of the train, lips curled up in a happy grin, as she knocked on a new door. Inside, most of the students seemed to be dressed in green, with two or three in blue. They were probably a few years older than her, but Hermione wouldn't be daunted even if the expressions on their faces made her want to be.
"What do you want?" Asked one of the girls in green, looking her up and down.
"Hi," said Hermione with a friendly smile. "I'm Hermione Granger, and I-"
"She didn't ask your name," said a boy with a blue tie and dark eyes, exchanging a glance with the others who's expressions had grown somewhat cooler.
"Oh. I just wanted to let people know we're arriving soon."
"We know," said the first girl. "So you can go now, muggle."
"… Muggles can't go to Hogwarts since they don't have magic. I'm muggle born, not a muggle," Hermione corrected them, hands on her hips and frown on her face.
There was a stretch of silence and Hermione found herself lowering her hands to her sides.
"…As she said, you should go now, muggle."
Hermione glanced around the group before hesitantly turning to go, walking quickly away from that carriage. Unfortunately, not quickly enough to avoid hearing their final words.
"Merlin, I hope that one's not in my house."
"Sorry, but that's a swot there through and through. Looks like the claws are getting yet another mu-"
The door to the next carriage shut behind her, blocking out their voices. Hermione moved away from it to stand by one of the windows lining the right side of the train, mouth set in a tight line and hands clenched as she stared at the darkening mountains rushing past.
For how long she stood like that, she did not know. All she knew was that she didn't yet feel much better when she heard someone walking through the carriage door behind her. There was a moment of silence when the walker seemed to pause but Hermione didn't look around, still trying her best to steady her breathing and stop her chin from quivering.
Then there was a sound; a funny little sound like the flaring of a match but much quieter, like a hissed whisper, and something flew into her face.
It exploded and she yelped, almost falling backwards as she speedily skittered away, only to stop short as she registered the lack of heat and what it was that she was seeing. It was a firework explosion, made up of fluttering purple and spinning gold sparks which crackled softly before dissolving into a fizzing red afterglow. She gazed at the smokey afterimage in surprise then around and up at the perpetrator.
"…You're not supposed to use magic in the corridors," she told the tall red-head boy who was grinning unrepentantly down at her. Her wide eyes then narrowed into a scrutinising frown. "Why were you trying to scare me? That's not nice."
"On the contrary, firsty. I'm being very nice. Look, you're not about to cry anymore."
Hermione blinked bewilderedly at this but before she could even try to refute this, the boy carried on talking.
"Besides, pranks aren't about making people scared. They're a part of Hogwarts great and noble history!" He proclaimed, clapping a hand to his chest and wiping an imaginary tear from his eye with the other. Hermione noticed the box in that hand, reading the writing on its side at a lightning fast speed.
Dr Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks.
Mutely, Hermione looked from the box of magic fireworks back to the boy who sent her a wink with a knowing grin, before turning and walking away.
Several cheerful voices called out greetings as he made his way down the train and Hermione stared after him.
...People seem to like him, don't they?
She blinked again and shook her head. Was what he said really true? How could playing pranks of all things be noble? And she highly doubted it was such a large part of Hogwarts history. She hasn't seen any chapters on it in 'Hogwarts: a History'. But perhaps there was something in 'An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe', or 'Modern Magical History' or maybe even in a sub-section of 'Sites of Historical Sorcery'.
Hermione rushed back to her compartment, ready to wrestle down her trunk and stick her nose into a book for the rest of the journey, only to stop short as she caught sight of the platform they were pulling up at. A jubilant grin formed on her face and, for once, all thoughts of books vanished from her head. She dashed over to the window of her compartment, startling the sniffling Neville who'd obviously had even less luck than her in hunting down his toad. She paid him little mind though, instead staring out at the inky black platform she was to depart onto.
She was finally at Hogwarts! Oh how fantastic! This was going to be amazing!
And it was amazing… at first. With it's grand sweeping staircases (one hundred and forty-two of them to be precise) and ancient sprawling lands, Hermione couldn't think of anyone who wouldn't be deeply impressed with this school.
It had been a bit tricky to get to grips with and even understand why and how the stairs were enchanted to change all the dratted time or lead up to different floors depending on the time of day or month, but her excitement at the massive scale of magic involved was enough to wash these complaints away. Hogwarts had this great sense of age to it, as if it had been standing for thousands of years and would continue to stand until the end of time. It had a way of making Hermione feel very small one moment, then incredibly frustrated and excited the next. She found herself scribbling down notes every minute of the day the first few weeks, trying to understand the timing of different doors becoming locked and unlocked, to remember where the trick steps were and how best to avoid Peeves's hunting grounds.
To say Hermione didn't like Peeves was like saying grass was green, or the sky was blue. It was overly simplistic and did not capture the range of irritation, disgust and disbelief that made up her dislike. His ideas of jokes and humour were horrible and crude to her mind. But there was a sense of delight in succeeding to avoid his awful pranks. There was a sense of delight to everything in Hogwarts.
The classes themselves were even better than moving staircases and one-upping cowardly bullies. The theory of transfiguration was deeply engrossing. It was definitely one of the more complex aspects of magic in that it required completely changing the chemical structure of the item being transfigured. Hermione found the challenge exhilarating. Professor McGonagall even gave her ten house points for knowing about switching spells and Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration.
Charms was her favourite subject after Transfiguration. Professor Flitwick was kind, a fantastic teacher and, on an ever so slightly lesser note, a Master Duelist. She had yet to do any magic in his class but she was not put off by this. The fundamentals and theory behind it were more than enough for her to sink her teeth into.
She only wished that some of the other teachers shared her favourite professors' teaching styles. She had really been looking forward to Defence Against the Dark Arts but soon found she was better off learning from books than the distractible and distant Professor Quirrel, and while Professor Binns did know a lot about goblin wars, he never talked to the class properly or even asked questions. Half of the class were asleep for crying out loud! And he never noticed!
But the worst by far was Professor Snape.
The man was a bully. Plain and simple. He ignored her with a smirk, tore into Neville with a passion, and was cruel and malicious to anyone not sporting a green trim to their cloaks. She did her best though, as she did with each and every subject and for each and every teacher. She was able to brew potions for boils and hiccoughing and cook up a nasty little herbicide to an almost perfect standard. She wasn't exactly sure why they weren't deemed perfect when her herbicide looked the same as Draco Malfoy's whose was used as an example to the class, but she could have a good guess. She debated asking her parents to send more potion supplies so she could practice outside of class but unsupervised potion brewing was against the rules. So that idea was quickly nipped in the bud.
So, with little other options, Hermione spent most of her time reading books to improve on her potion making. Then she read books on how to cast defensive spells to improve on Defence Against the Dark Arts. And then she read books on all her other subjects too, because she could. She loved spending her spare time sat in the library, at the lovely mahogany desks with a pile of books circling around her like a barricade against the outside world. Or perhaps she would be sat in one of the squishy leather chairs in a corner, her books illuminated by a beam of cool autumnal sunshine. Hermione sometimes thought she lived for those hushed Friday afternoons and warm weekends of quiet relaxation and study.
At least, that's what she thought for the first two weeks or so. It had now been almost three weeks since she arrived at Hogwarts and, despite her best efforts, Hermione hadn't made a single friend. She had mentioned her upcoming birthday to her fellow Gryffindors what must have been ten times, and the only one of them to remember had been Neville.
She sat at her usual table in the library, staring at the hastily made card he'd given her that morning, before he'd dashed back to chat to his dorm mates. Then she glanced over at the card and present her parents had sent to her: a year's subscription to 'Challenges in Charming' which was a fascinating if difficult read. There were several recommendations for great books to read, moving illustrations on the long term effects of permanent charms and there was even a section which gave several new spells which had Hermione itching to whip out her wand. She should have been happy.
But it was her birthday and she was alone.
She forced down a quiet sniff and rubbed her eyes harshly with the back of her hand. She was fine. She was doing well. Her professors had no complaints and she was earning house points faster than anyone else, even if no one particularly seemed to care about it. She shook her head forcibly and plucked up a new book to read. Only to stop short when she registered the title.
'An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe'
Oh. She forgot! She was going to look into the 'grand and noble history' of pranksters, or whatever that Weasley twin had said.
Having lived in the Gryffindor tower for a few weeks, even if she really only went there to sleep right now, it would have been impossible not to have heard of the Weasley twins. They were, in a word, a menace. But they were a popular menace. You couldn't go a day without overhearing someone gushing about something they did, whether it was an old and famous prank or something smaller but more recent. Hermione hadn't been on the receiving end of any of these pranks, beyond the strange use of the mini firework on the train, but she had seen the evidence of them. The parrots kept in the transfiguration classrooms didn't teach themselves how to swear after all.
It was strange how everyone still seemed to like them though, even after they lost loads of house points… Perhaps people really did like pranks in Hogwarts? Hermione frowned softly at the idea and started flicking through the education appraisal. There didn't seem to be any mention of pranks. However, Hogwarts was described as:
'more lighthearted and relaxed than other schools in the United Kingdoms in that they frequently allow their students free time to pursue more unique extra curricular hobbies. Their, at times humorous, attitude towards learning is aptly illustrated by their rather unique school motto: 'Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus' which roughly translates to 'Never tickle a sleeping dragon'.
Hermione stared at this for a moment then her lip quirked up with a stifled laugh. What a ridiculous motto! She had read about it before of course but the translations varied and most books took on too much of a serious tone to write the word 'tickle'.
Hermione closed the book, her thoughts awhirl. She had read about a charm on tickling recently, hadn't she? She turned to the pile of books to her right side, opening up Standard Book of Spells Grade 2 (she had already read her way through Grade one during the holidays and had been ecstatic to find a whole section of the library dedicated to the series on her second day).
There it was, Rictusempra! Huh. It seemed to be a spell used in duels… which wasn't allowed outside of duelling classes. Hermione felt her face fall as she closed the book again, her strange half formed plans of making a potential friend laugh evaporating in the face of the Hogwarts rules.
What was allowed then? Hermione pondered as she pulled out her copy of 'Hogwarts: A History' from her bag and started searching for the comprehensive list of all of Hogwarts' rules. She remembered them to be rather confusing and disjointed in their phrasing. For example, in 1948, a rule was put forward that stated:
'Students are permitted to wear non- uniform clothing during non-class time.'
However a previous rule, about how students could be suspended for disrespecting the hallowed Hogwarts uniform by not wearing their school ties all the time, was still in place. And this was just regarding uniform! The rules on spell-casting outside of class was even more of a convoluted mess. Hermione was starting to realise why Headmaster Dumbledore's explanation of the school rules at the start of term feast had been so brief now.
So… if she took the rules she had verbally been given into account, then she could be fine? She would need to make sure not to go to the third floor corridor (which she wasn't planning on doing anyway), not to do anything after curfew (which was understandable), never to go into the forbidden forest (also understandable) and not cast spells in corridors between classes. That last one… did they mean between classrooms or the classes during the day? If she cast a spell in the evening for example, would she still be disciplined?
This was all in theory of course, Hermione reminded herself. She highly doubted all this would be applicable to her as she wasn't going to be doing pranks. It was completely immature and beneath her… Yes. What was she thinking? As if she would lower herself to such a level. She snapped the book shut and went back to her normal reading.
After all, Hermione Granger was no prankster!