September 1, 1991
There were several strong motivating factors behind Hermione's decision to read all of her textbooks before school even started. For one, everyone's concern with her being Muggle-born had instilled a small, pesky worry within her. Professor McGonagall said it hadn't mattered, but felt the need to point that out. The goblin had tried to take advantage of their deficient knowledge of wizarding currency. Mr. Ollivander seemed surprised to find her possessing a wand meant for more 'logical' or more 'powerful' witches. And so, assuming she was going to have to prove herself just as capable as those reared by magical folk, she read her textbooks voraciously.
But it wasn't difficult. The text she read was filled with what was considered fantasy in all her other books. She felt as if she had been missing out her entire life on this magical world of which she was a part. The information soaked into her every pore and she would expunge the new facts to her parents at the kitchen table every breakfast and dinner. Sometimes they wore bemused expressions, sometimes ones of alarm. Hermione didn't care. She relished this vast new reservoir of knowledge from which to drink.
What she liked even more, however, was the prospect of meeting children with whom she had something in common. She wanted to meet boys and girls who had gone through the same befuddling experiences as children. She wanted to meet children who would not think her strange for accidentally turning the monkey bars to ice, perhaps even think it 'cool'. But at the same time, the idea that many of them came from wizarding families nagged her, like a dull ringing in her ears. She read the stacks of books to prove she was just as familiar with everything magical, but would it be enough?
All these anxieties she had tried to remedy poured back into her like caustic bile as she stared at the crimson red train before her. Its billowing steam seemed quite menacing, like smoke from the burning gates of hell. The bustling students all around were quite intimidating, their laughs piercing the air like gunshots. But she was determined to make friends, sure it would be quite simple now that she no longer had to worry about the odd inexplicable catastrophe casting embarrassment over her for eternity. She turned to look up at her parents behind her, doing her best to be brave.
"We'll write," her mother said softly, putting her hand on Hermione's shoulder.
"We'll send your favorite snacks. I think we have the owl business under control." She winked with a bright smile.
"Hermione, dear," her father said through a sigh, bending down to look her in the eye. He took her hand in his, his soft cool hands stroking hers with tenderness. The man delivered his words with great emphasis, doing his best to get the very important point across. "We're very proud of you. We are so proud of you. You're an amazing girl. Have confidence in that and you'll make friends in no time. This is where you belong."
Teary-eyed through her beaming smile, Hermione threw her arms around her father's neck and squeezed tightly.
"I love you," she murmured into his shoulder.
"We love you too," Celia replied, bending down for her turn in the hug. "We'll see you at Christmas."
Hermione gave them each a peck on the cheek and finally turned to the train, trunk in hand. Once inside, she found it quite difficult to navigate due to the large crowds of students running up and down the corridors. Trying to smile and use her manners despite the frightened butterflies zooming in her stomach, she forced her way into one of the few empty compartments left. Hermione put her trunk on a rack above her head, but not before removing her wand, her robes, and the spell book she'd been dying to use. She changed into her robes eagerly as the train began to chug along, trying not to miss her final goodbye. Hopping to get her shoe on, she managed to reach the window and wave enthusiastically at her parents, smiling as broadly as she could. Their faces grew smaller and smaller as the train gained speed. In the blink of an eye, they were gone.
As soon as she'd changed, she began practicing from the spell book. The wand within her hand felt as natural as holding a pencil, as second-nature as turning the pages of a book. Much to her excitement, she managed to get her pile of Muggle clothes to levitate before there was a knock at the door to her compartment. A woman pushing a cart of sweets was there, but Hermione denied wanting any. Warnings from her parents about the dangers of cavities and gum disease were best heeded, even if they weren't there to enforce the no-sweets rule.
The train carried on, Hermione hearing nothing but the sound of her own voice repeating the charms over and over and the muffled chatter from compartments around her. It was an uncomfortably familiar feeling, so she decided to close the book. With a tentative hand, she reached out and took a deep breath before opening the door. The hallways had thinned quite a bit and Hermione walked slowly down them, peering in windows for a friendly face.
She looked in the slightly opened door of one and saw three girls talking amidst fits of giggles. With another calming breath and a straightening of her shoulders (to look confident, of course), Hermione knocked.
The girls looked up. One of them came to the door and opened it the rest of the way. She had long dark hair and delicate features.
"Hi," the girl said politely. "Can I help you?"
"I was just seeing if I could meet a few fellow first years," Hermione said quickly, feeling as if she had at least convincingly faked some confidence with her flippant tone. "I'm Hermione Granger."
"Parvati Patil," the girl before her replied. "This is my sister, Padma." She nodded over at the other girl, whose only differing characteristic was a long braid down her back.
"And I'm Lavender Brown," said the third girl in the room. She had shoulder-length blonde hair and reminded Hermione vaguely of Shannon Davis, though she tried to convince herself to think otherwise. Instead she tried smiling.
"Well, I was also wondering if you three knew anything more about the four Hogwarts houses, other than what was in our history books. There's not a single witch or wizard in my family so far as I can tell, so I've had to go off of the books I memorized this summer. Do you think you know which you'll be in?" Hermione pressed, hoping that was enough information to start a conversation.
"I hope I'm in Gryffindor," said Lavender, who turned her response to Parvati.
"You know, the people there are really brave and cool and stuff. My mum was in Ravenclaw but my dad was in Gryffindor when he went. My great-granddad was in Gryffindor with Dumbledore, you know. I don't want to be in nerdy Ravenclaw though. It must be so boring studying all the time."
Hermione tried not to feel stung.
"I suppose Hufflepuff wouldn't be too bad," Lavender continued, lying down on a pile of sweets.
"Yes it would," Parvati sniggered, taking a seat by her sister. "It's a house for nice people. You know, people who haven't got any other talents."
"Just hope you're not in Slytherin," Padma piped up. "Our parents said they're just power-hungry morons. You'll be in Slytherin, I expect," she said, directing her sarcasm at her twin with a laugh. "The way you talk about Hufflepuffs. You shouldn't be mean to nice people. And Lavender, you'll be in Slytherin too. Ravenclaw isn't a bunch of nerds. A lot of the people in that house don't even have to study half the time since they're so clever."
The three of them began chattering and giggling and then somehow a bag of candies split open and the three girls burst into hysterics. The chaos unnerved Hermione, so she slid the door to its original position and headed back to her compartment.
So. The four houses. Being in Gryffindor was the obvious first choice. The other three didn't seem nearly as commendable, but better to be a nerd than being assumed a talentless doormat or a tyrannical idiot. She simply had to be in Gryffindor. It would be a shoe-in for making friends.
A knock at the compartment door interrupted her thoughts. Hermione looked up to see a round-faced boy standing sullenly in the doorway.
"Excuse me...h-have you seen a toad anywhere?"
Hermione felt a sudden searing panic at having to converse with others yet again. She measured her words carefully.
"No, no I haven't. I'm sorry."
"Oh...alright." He made to close the door, looking quite forlorn, but Hermione let out a sudden cry.
"Wait! I-I'll help you look for him. I'm sure we can find him. What's his name?"
"Trevor," the boy said quietly.
"Trevor," Hermione repeated under her breath, exiting the compartment and following the boy up the aisle. "I'm Hermione Granger," she said matter-of-factly, trying to bring her confident voice back.
"N-Neville Longbottom," the boy replied.
"Pleased to meet you Neville," she said without eye contact, as they approached a compartment. Hermione knocked and opened the door without invitation. A boy with sandy colored hair was sitting in the compartment along with a very tall boy with a dark complexion.
"Has anyone here seen a toad?" Hermione asked plainly.
The boys shook their heads and Hermione closed the door, moving on to the next and the next.
"We'll never find him," Neville moaned. "I can't imagine where he could have gone..."
"Don't worry," Hermione assured him. "There are still lots of compartments to go."
She didn't even bother knocking on the next one. Sitting in this compartment was a gangly red-haired boy, a rat in his lap and a wand in his hand. On the other side sat a scrawny bespectacled boy with messy black hair. Hermione's gaze drew immediately to the wand.
"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said the red-headed boy.
She didn't pay attention. "Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it then."
Eager to see how she measured up, Hermione sat down. The boy looked shocked at her forward friendliness, but it was the fastest way to an introduction she was sure.
"Er-all right."
He cleared his throat.
"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow,
Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."
He waved his wand but nothing happened. The rat remained asleep in his lap. Hermione did her best not to laugh, though she couldn't resist the urge to speak.
"Are you sure that's a real spell? Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard-I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough-I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"
She could feel embarrassment creeping into her cheeks. She'd spoken much too quickly. It had not been coherent whatsoever. She had simply stumbled through her thoughts, trying to reach out to them. Perhaps too forward.
"I'm Ron Weasley," the red-haired boy muttered.
"Harry Potter," the other said, speaking for the first time.
"Are you really?" said Hermione, suddenly trying to remember everything she could. It would surely impress him. "I know all about you, of course-I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."
"Am I?" He seemed nonplussed.
"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," Hermione replied feeling rather embarrassed again though quickly deciding to cover it up with a change of subject. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad...Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."
She hurried to leave, trying to hide her face as she felt herself blush with the efforts of conversation; Neville followed morosely behind.
And we all know the rest.
Or do we?
