Once my parents are mere specks in the distance, I begin to make my way down the corridor of the train, snaking around the other pupils. Many old friends are greeting each other between compartments, some hugging, others showing off their tans from wherever they went on holiday. I manage to catch snippets of some of their conversations:
"Oh yeah, mum and I were in Greece this year, we went to one of those Wood Nymph zoos. They're sooo cute."
"We went to the Quidditch World Cup in August. The Final was rubbish though - it only took about 5 minutes before Ariel Singleton got the snitch."
"Have you seen Terry? My Niffler, I can't find him anywhere..."
"Ah! He's trying to steal my necklace - get him off!"
I turn my head to look as several students try desperately to grab Terry - a creature that reminds me of a platypus covered in midnight-blue fur - who is climbing around some poor girl's head with the silver chain of her necklace grasped tightly in his paw.
"Stay still, Josie, I can't catch him..."
As I'm still walking with my neck craned in the opposite direction to where I'm going, I walk quite literally headfirst into the back of another pupil.
"Oh, my goodness, I'm so sorry," I breathe, not looking up at them as I struggle to my feet. A hand reaches down to me, and I take it gratefully, hoisting myself back up.
"Are you alright?" Two voices ask in perfect unison. I glance up at them timidly; two identical boys, probably around 13 or 14 in age. They're both fairly tall and have heads of flaming ginger hair.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, thanks... Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going," I mutter, feeling heat in my cheeks.
"Don't worry about it," the one on the left grins. The twins (I presume) then flatten against the wall of the train.
"Go on, go through," says the other, also with a smile. I awkwardly make my way past them and continue on down the train, only just able to hear the added call of: "Watch out for Lee Jordan's tarantula!"
When I finally find an empty compartment, my trunk is already there waiting for me. My mind briefly wonders how, before I push the question out of my head with a simple answer - magic. The first thing I do is fish my uniform out of it, and find a toilet to get changed in. I pull on the grey skirt, tights, white shirt, jumper and the silky black robes. The last thing is the tie, which is also black satin, though I was told by Madame Malkin that it won't stay black forever; tonight at the Sorting Ceremony, I'll be put into one of the four school houses - Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw or Slytherin - and the tie will change to match the house's colours. Having read about them in one of my books, Hogwarts, A History, I've decided that Gryffindor sounds the best by far. It's where those who are courageous end up. Though, Ravenclaw does sound more like where I'd go - the witty and intelligent.
I head back to my compartment, stuff my normal (muggle) clothes into my trunk and sit down with a book. As I'm reading, I find it hard to concentrate - my imagination is flying with ideas about what the school will be like, what it'll be like to learn all about magic, how to make potions and do spells. I shake my head and try to focus on the book, A History of Magical Warfare. It wasn't on the booklist, I merely found it fascinating.
His name is unspeakable for those who have lived through the fear and destruction that he has caused. Many refer to him only as You-Know-Who. His ideologies about only teaching magic to those who were Pure-Blood date back to the very beginning of Hogwarts, when Salazar Slytherin was one of the founders. However, he was stopped - and by a baby, no less. A young boy named Harry Potter, whose parents were both killed by You-Know-Who, managed somehow to survive the killing curse. He is left only with a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead...
"Trevor? Trevor! Come here, Trevor! Oh, pleeeease don't be lost, Gran will kill me!"
I glance up from the book, before folding the corner of the page I'm up to and getting up from my seat. Upon opening the door, I find a boy outside my compartment on his hands and knees, clearly looking for something - or, rather, someone.
"Um... Can I help you?" I ask.
The boy jumps and stands up, brushing his hands off on his new school trousers. He's not much taller than me, and has a round, nervous-looking face. "S-sorry, I'm just looking for my pet toad, Trevor. Have you seen him?"
"No, I haven't, sorry," I reply. "I could help you look for him, if you like?"
His face lights up a little. "If you don't mind."
"Of course not," I smile, extending my hand. "Hermione."
He shakes it. "Neville."
We split up in our quest to find Trevor. I walk down the corridor of the train, calling out his name, but to no avail. As I'm walking between compartments, I catch glimpses of different students - some are in their uniforms, their coloured ties on, whereas others are clearly first years. I see Seamus Finnigan, chatting to a kid with dark hair and skin; Seamus gives me a fleeting smile as I pass, which I return. There's also a boy with sleeked-back blonde hair talking to two others; they're wearing their black ties, but it's obvious by the loud conversation they're having which house they want to be in. Slytherin. I think back to what I read not five minutes ago about the founder of the house, before quickly moving along to the next compartment.
As I look into this one, I do a double take. Sat right there in front of me, talking to another pupil, is Harry Potter. The clothes he's wearing are far too big for him - a shirt and pair of trousers at least three sizes too large - and he has a pair of slightly damaged round glasses pushed up his nose, a messy black mop of hair on his head. But there's no mistaking the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. The boy he's talking to is the opposite of him in terms of appearance; tall, wearing jeans and a jumper that cling to his ankles and wrists, with freckles around his nose. He has the same ginger hair as I saw on the twins earlier this morning. A thought enters my mind, though I hurriedly try to push it out of my head - he's rather cute.
There are sweet wrappers all around the two, presumably from when the kindly old trolley-witch came around asking who wanted something. They're sitting side by side, talking. Then, the (cute) ginger boy gets out a wand, and begins to raise it, about to utter a spell of some sort. I choose that moment to interrupt. Sliding the compartment door open, I walk in. Both boys look up at me curiously.
"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one."
I went back and forth on ending the story at this point, but eventually decided to do so. However, if you'd like to see a little more about Hermione's early life at Hogwarts (ie. her relationship with Harry and Ron being bad at the beginning, her getting bullied, etc - it would only go up until the troll situation when she, Ron and Harry became friends), please let me know, and I will try to get a short sequel out this year.
Thank you all so much for reading, favouriting, following and reviewing :)
