Here is the next chapter of Hold My Hand, ready for your enjoyment! Be sure that if you like the story, or have questions/concerns, let Mike and me know by shooting us a review or a PM. We're always looking for feedback. Updates should be twice a week unless otherwise noted.

Note: The following has explicit reference to characters not featured in the Harry Potter books and only were either mentioned in passing or gleaned from supplementary materials. We were able to work around things mostly, so it's only partly original flavour at this point, but if you are confused do not be afraid to ask.

Disclaimer: neither Mike nor I own Harry Potter rights. Jaded adults, blah, blah, blah, give us Newt Scamander already.

Finding Your Feet: Chapter Two

14 September 1991

A lot has happened in my first two weeks at Hogwarts. I have to say, Hattie, this place is just a scream! The subjects are very interesting and the practical applications are so different than just reading about them. Professor McGonagall says that I am 'gifted' and says that I can achieve great things if I put my mind to it. Some of the other kids in my class aren't as lucky as me. You remember Neville? The one I helped out on the train? Well, he's not very good at anything at all it seems. I constantly help him with his coursework already. I think he just needs a bit of extra help and will be really good once he knows the basics. Sometimes the teachers go too fast for the other kids to keep up.

Nothing's really changed on the friends front. Other than Neville and the professors, I rarely talk to anyone else. I think the other girls in my dorm know I was the oddball of my primary school and they only talk to me if they have to. The boys in my House, other than Neville, all think I'm a nutter. It's because I study so much. It just isn't fair, Hattie! A whole school of magical people, which is odd enough as is, and I am still the class weirdo! If this place wasn't so fascinating, I would give it until Halloween before I call Mum and Dad and ask if I can still be transferred to the comprehensive school. It's just not fair!

20 September 1991

Yesterday was my birthday and no one said anything. There were streamers and balloons tied to my bed posts when I woke up though, as if someone came in during the night and put them there. I think I'm the eldest in the class, since I haven't heard of anyone else experiencing the same thing in the other Houses. I know I'm the eldest in Gryffindor for sure—the birthdays for the House are tacked onto a board in the common room. A present came from Mum and Dad by owl this morning at breakfast. I guess they're trying to get used to wizard post and it ended up coming a day late. I already read some of the books they sent. I'm going to read the book about Four, Sarah Jane and the Pescatons before I go to bed since it's so small. I wish those books were a bit longer—they're worse than Discworld in that regard. Is a bit more material to read really that much to ask for?

27 September 1991

Oh! I wish I could switch rooms with Kellah! Lavender won't stop teasing me about my fluffy hair and large teeth. At least if I swapped places with Kellah, she could talk more to Fay and I could talk with Eurwen. Kellah and Fay are quickly becoming best friends now that Fay's been teaching us Muggle-borns about Gobstones. I don't like it much, but Kellah does. It's just this little game of marbles that shoot acid at you if you do poorly. Eurwen doesn't like it much either; she's more interested in her cousin's studies. She can spend hours with Professor Quirrell learning all sorts of things he encountered during his travels abroad. All three of us are a bit odd, if you look at us like the others do. Eurwen can't stop talking about how much she had admired Professor Quirrell from the moment she realized that other people did not have cousins that could conjure fireworks from thin air in the autumn or tell the difference between different types of dragons. She's lucky, being Muggle-born, but still having someone that can help her along the way. Would you believe that she didn't know he existed until she got her letter? Their fathers were Muggles, but her mum was a Muggle and his mum was a witch. Their families didn't talk much, as it were. A whole side of the family filled with wizards and witches... and she didn't even know! Not me; I still have to deal with Lavender and Parvati teasing me behind my back.

I just can't imagine what it would be like if all eight of us were put into a single room together. That would be a nightmare.

Speaking of nightmares, I almost couldn't sleep last night because of them. Harry and Ron were trying to leave the dormitory last night in order to go duel Malfoy, so I tried to stop them. Of course, it didn't work and even Neville ended up coming along. He had been locked out of the common room when he forgot the password. Malfoy didn't even show up and we were almost caught by Filch. We all had to run and didn't even realize when we ran into the third-floor corridor to escape.

There was a huge cerebus there, almost as big as a small house! It was standing on a trap door and almost ate us. I don't think I've ever run faster than that before in my life! I couldn't get to sleep until it was almost dawn. The whole thing makes me shake at the memory of it.

8 October 1991

It turns out that Kellah and I can't swap beds and I'm stuck with Lavender and Parvati laughing at me every day. Professor McGonagall said that if I stay in Gryffindor after I'm Evaluated, then I can make a request to switch. Of course, there would have to be a new Gryffindor or someone who left, but I don't mind. Two years shouldn't be that bad.

Pansy Parkinson and I quarrelled today in the hall. She said I looked like a ratty old beaver with large teeth. I called her a pug and she started to yell at me in what sounded like Greek. I couldn't understand what she was saying, but Millicent Bulstrode apparently found it very funny and dragged Pansy away laughing. I tried to ask Daphne Greengrass what it was about, because she was with them, but she just smiled and skipped away. I'm really starting to believe that Slytherin is not exactly the friendliest sort, down to the girls. Malfoy is one thing, but really.

19 October 1991

I had a lovely conversation today with Justin Finch-Fletchley. He's a Muggle-born, like me, but is in Hufflepuff. It sounds like he has been learning a lot about the wizarding world from Ernie Macmillan, who's in his dorm. Ernie's family has been magic for centuries, so he knows just about everything there is to know. Talking to Justin made me wish I had someone like that who would tell me things so I didn't always have to look it up in a book. Could you believe Justin planned on going to Eton College before he got his Hogwarts letter? ETON! Giving up Eton is like giving up—I don't know—that's incredible! What I wouldn't give just to visit Eton...

31 October 1991

I can't believe it! Those boys! I hate them all! Just because I'm the only one in the room that actually reads ahead and tries to be prepared for class doesn't mean I'm an impossible nightmare! Oh, Hattie, I can barely see what I'm writing because I'm crying so hard. Moaning Myrtle has been kind to me about it. Although she haunts the toilets in the second floor, she can always hear through the pipes when someone is using a stall to have a good cry. I guess boys were just as stupid when she was alive as they are now. I think I'm going to go down and try to have something to eat. My stomach feels awful.

Oh my goodness, Hattie! I can't believe what was staring me in the face when I exited the stall: a huge mountain troll! I just remember that it was very large and smelled repulsive and it tried to kill me with its club! Harry and Ron came in and knocked it out for me. I was so scared. I couldn't do anything but stand there and scream. I felt so useless, like Tegan or those girls in old movies that don't do anything but get in the way. Harry and Ron were about to get into trouble, but I said that I went looking for the troll. They were so brave that I couldn't let them get into trouble! Professor McGonagall took away points from me, but gave some to the boys in return.

I think this means I have friends now. We hugged before going to our dormitories for the night. Having friends is nice.

5 November 1991

I'm trying out the new quill Professor McGonagall let me borrow while I watch the fireworks. All I have to do is think something and it will write down itself! Wow, that's a pretty one. I'm watching the fireworks displays with Ron and Harry. Seamus is making a bit of a fuss about it all; I guess Catholics don't really like the reminder that people do some stupid stuff in the name of faith, but tha—oh! It looks like a dragon—that doesn't mean we can't have a bit of fun. Besides, most of the Guys are actually Snapes. I doubt that Professor Snape likes it very much. It seems sort of odd, but I think this tradition might be more beloved here than in my neighbourhood back home. What's Mr. Filch got there? It sort of looks like he's got Guys of his own! Harry, what do you suppose they are? Peeves, Fred and George?! You've got to be joking! OH! They just exploded on him! Should we get Madam Pomfrey? You two are impossible…

Oh, no… look at what you've made me write! I shouldn't hav—

16 November 1991

I got to watch my first-ever Quidditch match today! Never have I seen anything like it, even during flying lessons! Harry was brilliant. I was pretty scared watching him dart around in the sky, weaving in and out between all the older students, but he caught the Snitch in the end. Once, his broom even started to malfunction. I saw Professor Snape in one of the other sets of bleachers, his eyes on Harry and his mouth moving quickly, like he was cursing him. I crept over and set his robes alight to distract him. Luckily, he didn't know it was me. I don't feel right about it, but he was going to kill Harry! How could I let him do that?!

I'm trying to think now about how to describe Quidditch, Hattie. It would have to be this odd mix of a high-scoring football game that has cricket bats, killer balls and the magical equivalent of bicycles—sort of. I would copy down the rules from Quidditch Through the Ages, but that would take up too much room. I still remember most of the rules and technicalities from the book. I swear it's like people just made up most of the rules as they went and didn't care too much about making sense of it all. You almost need a course in school just to make sense of it. I bet Harry and Ron would sign up for that course in a heartbeat.

28 November 1991

Stephen Cornfoot almost lost Ravenclaw a load of points earlier today. He kept on griping about there not being any turkey or stuffing or cranberry jelly at dinner. Apparently, it wasn't 'fair' that we got to celebrate with fireworks earlier in the month while he doesn't get anything for the American Thanksgiving. Anthony Goldstein and Mandy Brocklehurst had to drag him from the Great Hall and I heard that Sue Li gave him such a strict scolding that none of the Ravenclaw prefects or Professor Flitwick had to say a word.

I still can't get over the fact that Freddie Mercury died on Sunday. Even the wizarding students from pureblood families know how horrible it is. Music is one of the few things that seems to transfer over between magic and Muggle with ease. Everyone had at least heard of records by the time we all came to Hogwarts and I hear some of the older Muggle-born students have figured out how to let their tape decks and CD-players work despite all the magic mucking about. A Ravenclaw figured it, unsurprisingly. I should see if I can bring my Walkman back after Christmas and have a go at it.

18 December 1991

I'm on the Hogwarts Express, going back to King's Cross. It's almost Christmas time! I can't wait to get home and tell my parents all about the wonderful things I've done at school! Professor McGonagall said that as long as I practice in my room, I can do magic while I'm away. Mum and Dad can even see, as long as they peek in the door. It's a special allowance they allow Muggle-borns, since we don't have magical examples at home.

Neville's sleeping on the other side of the compartment from me. Harry and Ron chose to stay behind at school, so it's just the two of us. Dean and Seamus said they might stop by later, Eurwen too. I think she's been having trouble with Scarlett and Lily, because she doesn't seem as friendly as usual today. Hopefully, she'll get some Christmas cheer soon!

Hermione hopped out of the train car and took a look around. Her parents had not come to greet her at the platform, but she remembered how frightened they were of the barrier at the beginning of term and thought that they just decided to stay safe outside it. Neville Longbottom, still sleepy from the ride, was right behind her, a step in front of Eurwen Quirrell. Hermione did not think she could find a more irritated girl than Eurwen; her thick black curls had been accidentally used as a cushion for the past three hours and, even worse, Neville drooled.

'Eur-r-r-Eurwen...!' called out Professor Quirrell's voice over the whistle of the train and the bustle of people. The skittish teacher appeared in the crowd, coming from the train's front with quick-moving eyes and the large, garlic-scented turban. 'C-c-come p-p-please. I told your p-p-parents that I'd-d take you t-to them."

'Coming Quirinus!' Eurwen said excitedly. She turned to Hermione and smiled. 'Hermione, do you think you might be able to come for a visit sometime during the holiday?'

'I think I might. I would have to ask my parents first.'

'Well th-then, maybe I can help-p-p you find your p-p-parents too and we c-c-can make an ar-r-rangement?' Professor Quirrell offered. The girls were quick to agree and rushed to find not only their trunks, but a trolley for each of them as well. They cheerfully followed Quirrell out onto the Muggle platforms of King's Cross, almost immediately coming upon the Grangers.

'Mum! Dad!' Hermione cried out. She ran up to her parents and hugged them both. 'I've missed you so much!'

'It has been a while, hasn't it, sweetie?' Mrs Granger said. 'Oh? Who is this? One of your friends from school?'

'Mum, Dad, this is Eurwen; she's in my House... and this is her cousin, Professor Quirrell.'

'Good to meet you, professor," Mr Granger said, shaking the teacher's hand. The younger man nodded eagerly and returned a smile.

'G-g-good t-to meet you b-b-both,' he said as he went and shook Mrs Granger's hand as well. 'H-h-hermione is one of my b-b-best st-t-students from any year. You sh-should b-be very p-p-proud. I-I have t-travelled m-much and find f-few w-wizards and w-witches th-that c-c-can be as ace as s-she will be!'

Mr Granger looked at the teacher with a quirked brow, unsure what to make of him. 'Say, what is it that you teach, professor?'

'D-defence Ag-gainst the D-dark Arts, sir.' Mr Granger did not seem very convinced, nor was he amused, at the prospect that such a quivering man was put in charge of his daughter for such a formidable-sounding subject.

Hermione recognised the stern look on her father's face and quickly piped up to change the subject. 'Dad, Eurwen wants to know if I can come over for a visit during the holiday. May I go, please...?'

'We'll think about it, Hermione dear,' Mrs Granger said. 'Come along now, we've got a lot to talk about! Tell me about school.'

'Okay. I'll see you later, Eurwen!'

'Bye Hermione! Happy Christmas!'

It was dark outside as the newly fallen snow whipped around the yard, fresh and loose in the wind. The Grangers sat up in their parlour, each reading their own book. Hermione had long since been sent to bed and was gone long enough to be asleep when Mrs Granger closed her book.

'Grant,' she said, looking at her husband. He sipped at his brandy and did not even look up.

'What is it, Margo?'

'Look at me.' Mr Granger glanced up to see his wife none too pleased. 'It's been five days... I think Hermione deserves an answer about visiting that girl from school.'

'If we don't discuss it, then I don't have to tell her "no".'

'Why not? Is it because of the poor girl's cousin? He's a teacher for heaven's sake.'

'I don't like him; smelled funny.'

'You heard Hermione—he's been awfully jittery since he has been abroad for the year prior this! I doubt she can find a thing wrong with that school and you're now judging it by a stutter and a turban.'

'I almost wish we could transfer her out,' Mr Granger said, turning a page in his book. 'All that stuff she does in her room... it's peculiar.'

'Of course it's peculiar... she's learning magic! I just wish you would let her go to see her friend. She has friends, Grant. Friends! She hasn't had any since playgroup! Not just this Eurwen girl, but boys too! The way she talks about them—her eyes simply light up! Maybe, this is the start of something?'

'As much as I love our daughter, Margo, I still don't want her to go.' Mr Granger tried not to sound cross, but was wearing his patience thin from his wife's excitement. 'We don't know the parents or how far they live or the neighbourhood and, besides, I thought we were going to leave her with Mr Smith when we have to attend that conference.'

'Have it your way, then,' Mrs Granger said, drawing her knees up and opening her book again. She peered at her husband over the pages, not happy that she could not help her daughter foster a friendship with another girl her own age. Oh, how she wanted her daughter to just be happy and have lots of friends, but her bookishness always seemed to get in the way. Hopefully, she thought, the time will come and Eurwen could come and stay, or Hermione with her. It was only a matter of time before he softened to the idea.

On the staircase, hidden by a wall just thin enough to hear voices through, Hermione sat huddled on a step, thinking about what she had just heard. Another New Year's with Mr Smith? There were worse things that could happen.