Secret Relations
Chapter Eight
The door swung open a once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Elle's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."
She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Chadwick's house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.
They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Elle could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right — the rest of the school must already be here — but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room.
"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Huflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each House had its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your House points, while any rule breaking will lose House points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours.
"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."
She left the chamber.
"How exactly do they sort us into Houses?" Harry asked Ron.
"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."
Elle smiled softly at Ron's comment, but before she could say anything she felt someone bump into her rather hard. She grunted some and stumbled forward, glancing over her shoulder at the culprit. It was a boy with sandy brown hair and pale skin.
"Oh — er — sorry," he said in a thick Irish accent.
"It's fine," Elle said with a soft smile. She went to turn forward, but the boy stopped her.
"I-I'm sorry to ask, but are you. . . . Are you Eleanor Riddle?" he said curiously.
Elle couldn't stop the groan that escaped her lips. "Yes — I go by Elle though."
It was obvious she was a bit annoyed, and the boy's face flushed some. "O-oh, I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you —"
Instantly, Elle felt guilty — he obviously hadn't intended to annoy her. She forced a small smile.
"Sorry, it was just a long train ride," she said. "What's your name?"
"Seamus Finnigan," he said with a grin.
"Nice to meet you, Seamus," Elle said softly, holding her hand out to him.
"You too, Elle," said Seamus, shaking her hand.
Suddenly, several people screamed, and they both turned and saw why. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance —"
"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all he chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost — I say, what are you all doing here?"
A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.
Nobody answered.
"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"
A few people nodded mutely.
"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old House, you know."
"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."
Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floats away through the opposite wall.
"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."
Elle got at the front of the line behind Harry and Ron, Seamus trailing behind her, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors and into the Great Hall.
It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundred of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the candlelight. Dotted here and there amoung the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. To avoid everyone's gazes, Elle looked up at the velvety black ceiling dotted with stars.
Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty.
For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then, the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth — and the hat began to sing:
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can top them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong to Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivary
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong to Hufflepuff,
Where they are just as loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you're a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folks use any mean
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"
The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.
"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Elle and Harry. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."
Elle smiled softly, "Well, at least he was lying."
Ron grinned at this, "Yeah, you're right."
Feeling more relaxed now that she knew being Sorted wasn't going to hurt, Elle felt excited.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbot, Hannah!"
And so the Sorting began. It went on for a while. Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones, and Justic Finch-Fletchley were just some of the first years put into Hufflepuff. Terry Boot and Mandy Brocklehurst went to Ravenclaw, and Lavender Brown became the first Gryffindor.
Millicent Bulstrode became a Slytherin. Elle and Harry both agreed that all the people in Slytherin looked extremely unpleasant.
Harry leaned over to Elle after a few moments and said, "Are you feeling sick?"
"No, why?"
"I was just thinking. . . . You and I were always picked last at our old school. . . . What if it happens here?"
Elle only shrugged. "Don't worry. Even if we are picked last, it's not that big of a deal. We'll be sorted, and hopefully into the same house."
"Finnigan, Seamus," called out Professor McGonagall.
"Hope I don't get Slytherin," Seamus muttered before going up and sitting on the stool.
Professor McGonagall placed the hat on Seamus' head and it was silent for a minute (an extremely long minute) before finally shouting, "GRYFFINDOR!"
Seamus let out a sigh of relief and smiled bright at Elle as he headed towards the Gryffindor table.
"Granger, Hermione!"
A girl with curly brown hair practically sprinted to the stool and jammed the hat on her head eagerly.
"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. Ron groaned.
"Elle," whispered Harry, who seemed even more nervous, "I was just thinking, and . . . and what if we're not picked at all? What if this is just some big mistake?"
"Harry, it's not," Elle assured him. "You'll be fine. Now just pay attention, you may be called up next."
Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, and he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "MacDougal, Morag."
Malfoy happily strutted forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"
Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself. There weren't many people left now, and Harry was looking even more nervous.
If that's possible, thought Elle.
"Moon" . . . ., "Nott" . . . , "Parkinson" . . . , then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil" . . . , then "Perks, Sally-Anne" . . . , and then, at last —
"Potter, Harry!"
"I was called!" Harry whispered excitedly to Elle.
"Told you," Elle grinned.
Harry stepped forward and whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.
"Potter, did she say?"
"The Harry Potter?"
Everyone was deathly silent as the hat was placed on Harry's head, and Elle thought that they were all holding their breath.
Harry sat on the stool, gripping the edges seat tightly, and Elle could see how tense he was. She wasn't sure how much time had passed — seconds, minutes, hours — but it seemed like a lifetime before the Sorting Hat spoke.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The Great Hall exploded with whoops and a loud applause, and Elle watched Harry as he walked towards her.
"How was it?" she asked him.
"Different."
"Was it fun though?"
"Nerve-racking, that's for sure. The hat takes your choice into account though."
And with that, Harry went off to take a seat at the Gryffindor table and Elle felt a sudden sinking feeling in her stomach as he walked away — what if she and Harry weren't put into the same house? What if she ended up in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw? Or, even worse yet, what if she was sorted into Slytherin with Malfoy? But Harry did say the Sorting Hat took their choice into consideration. . . .
Then, Professor McGonagall shouted, pulling Elle out of her thoughts —
"Riddle, Eleanor!"
The whispering that started when Harry walked up started once again and Elle felt her cheeks burn bright red.
"Riddle? Did she say Riddle?"
"Man, Harry Potter and Eleanor Riddle?"
Elle slowly stepped forward, trembling some — she wasn't accustomed to people taking such an interest in her. As she walked towards the stool, Elle saw a man with a long white beard and half moon glasses, and she recognized him as Professor Dumbledore. He was watching her carefully, a small smile on his face. She sat on the stool and Professor McGonagall placed the hat on her head.
The last thing Elle saw before the hat dropped over her eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at her. Next second she was looking at the black inside of the hat. She waited.
"Hmmm," said a small voice in her ear. It was the Sorting Hat. "Let me see. . . . I sense great power flowing through you, and you have plenty courage. . . . You have a great mind as well, I see, and much talent. . . . There is great potential for you in Gryffindor. . . . But what is this? Riddle is your surname, eh? I remember your father. . . . Your father did things that everyone here knows of, and they will never forget, I promise you.
"But what about your mother? She was in Gryffindor, and she did very well. Where to put you . . . where to put you? You could easily fit into Slytherin, it's in your blood. Though your mother's traits run strong through you. . . .
"You want to prove yourself to everyone, make yourself known. You're struggling to understand just what you are exactly. You know you're a witch, that much is clear, but you aren't sure whether you fit in or not."
Gryffindor, Elle thought to herself. Please put me in Gryffindor. . . . Please put me in Gryffindor. . . .
"Oooooh. . . . Gryffindor, mm?" said the small voice. "Really? Slytherin could help you, you know. You'd fit in perfectly. . . . No? Well then, I must say, we have two very strong-headed first years in this batch. . . . Alright then, if you're sure — GRYFFINDOR!"
Elle heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall, and a huge applause broke out over the students. She took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Gryffindor table, where Harry had saved her a seat. Percy the Prefect got up and shook her hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter and Riddle! We got Potter and Riddle!"
"So, what did you think?" said Harry with a bemused sort of grin.
"It was terrible," Elle muttered, slumping in the seat beside Harry. "I've never been more nervous in my life."
Harry chuckled lights, and Elle sighed, looking towards the front of the hall. Lilly could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest her and Harry sat Hagrid, who caught her eye and gave her a thumbs up. Elle grinned back. Elle spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.
And now there were only four people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," joined Harry and Elle at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and the it was Ron's turn. He was pale green by now. Elle looked on hopefully and a second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"
Elle and Harry clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the chair next to Elle.
"Well done, Ron, excellent," said Percy Weasley pompously across Elle as "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.
Elle looked down at her empty gold plate, realizing just how starving she was. All that food on the train seemed like ages ago.
Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet, and he was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.
"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!
"Thank you!"
Elle's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of her were now piled with food. She had never seen so many things she liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.
Elle piled her plate with a little bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious.
"That does look good." said the ghost in the ruff sadly, watching Harry and Elle cut up their steaks.
"Can't you —?" trailed Harry.
"I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years," said the ghost. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it. I don't think I've introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."
"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "My brothers told me about you — you're Nearly Headless Nick!"
"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy —" the ghost began stiffly, but Seamus Finnigan interrupted.
"Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?"
Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn't going at all the way he wanted.
"Like this," he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, "So — new Gryffindors! I hope you're going to help us win the House Championship this year! Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the Cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron's becoming almost unbearable — he's the Slytherin ghost."
Elle, Ron, Harry, and Seamus followed Sir Nicholas' gaze over to the Slytherin table and saw a horrible ghost sitting there, with black staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood. He was right next to Malfoy who didn't look too pleased with the seating arrangements.
"How did he get covered in blood?" asked Seamus with great interest.
"I've never asked," said Sir Nicholas delicately.
When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding . . .
As Elle helped herself to a chocolate éclair, the talk turned to their families.
"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus. "Me dad's a Muggle, Mum didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."
The others laughed.
"What about you, Neville?" said Ron.
"Well, my gran brought me up and she's a witch," said Neville, "but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me — he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned — but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced — all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here — they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad."
Elle was only partly paying attention to their coversations. She looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban (something he hadn't been wearing the first time they'd met), was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. Elle looked on curiously, but as she did, she felt an odd tingling sensation start in her left forearm. She furrowed her brow and looked down at her arm curiously, but saw nothing visibly wrong with her arm.
"Odd. . . ," she muttered to herself, running her fingers over her forearm.
"Ouch!" Harry said suddenly, clapping his hand to his head.
Elle looked at him, obviously concerned, forgetting about her arm.
"What is it?" asked Elle, her eyes wide.
"N-nothing," Harry said quickly — Elle frowned some; was Harry lying to her? Then, looking for a subject change, Harry garnered Percy's attention.
"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked, his hand leaving his head.
"Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to — everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."
Harry continued to watch Snape for a while longer, and Elle frowned some.
"Harry, what's wrong?" she said quietly.
Harry looked a bit troubled and leaned close to Elle, speaking lowly. "Snape looked straight at me for just a moment, and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on my forehead. . . . But it's gone now."
Elle looked surprised — she had known Harry her entire life, and never once had he ever mentioned anything about his scar bothering him. She helped Harry keep an eye on Snape, but Snape didn't look at him again.
At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.
"Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.
"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."
Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in to the direction of the Weasley twins, who grinned wildly.
"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.
"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch.
"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
Harry chuckled beside Elle, but he was one of the few who did.
"He's not serious?" Harry muttered.
"Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere — the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knowns that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore.
Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.
"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"
And the school bellowed:
"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something please,
Whether we be old and bald
Or young with scabby knees,
Our heads could do with filling
With some interesting stuff,
For now they're bare and full of air,
Dead flies and bits of fluff,
So teach us things worth knowing,
Bring back what we've forgot,
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,
And learn until our brains all rot."
Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.
"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime! Off you trot!"
The Gryffindor first years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Elle felt extremely dizzy, but only because she was so tired and full of food. She was too sleepy even to be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Elle was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.
A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.
"Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice, "Peeves — show yourself."
A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.
"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"
There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.
"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"
He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.
"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Percy.
Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropped the walking sticks on Neville's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.
"You want to watch out for Peeves," said the Percy, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."
At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.
"Password?" she said.
"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it — Neville needed a leg up — and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs.
"All the girls, your dormitories are that way," Percy said, pointing at a staircase. "Follow the stairs and you'll find you rooms; and boys, your dormitories are this way. "
The students began to make their way up the stairs, but Elle, Harry, and Ron hung back for just a moment.
"Are you feeling better now?" said Elle curiously as she looked at Harry — she could help but worry about him, and his scar had never bothered him before.
Harry smiled softly and nodded. "Yeah — I think it was just a one time thing."
Elle smiled, relived. "Okay, well, we'd best get some sleep then."
Harry nodded in agreement. "I suppose you're right — good night, Elle."
"Night, Harry," she smiled. "Night, Ron."
"G'night, Elle," Ron said.
Elle then headed towards the girls' dormitories. At the top of the spiral staircase — she was obviously in one of the towers — she found her bed at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Elle's four roommates were already in their beds, and she recognized all of them — Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Eloise Midgen, and Hermione Grander; all the first years that had been sorted into Gryffindor. All the girls sat on their beds talking excitedly to one another; all of them except Hermione, who sat on her bed, a book sitting open on her lap.
When Elle stepped into the room though, the chatter immediately stopped, and Lavender, Parvati, and Eloise all looked towards her.
"I told you she'd be rooming with us," whispered Lavender excitedly.
"I didn't think they'd put her in here with us," said Eloise, her eyes wide.
"Can you believe it — we're rooming with Eleanor Riddle!" Parvati giggled.
Elle was very tired, which meant that she wasn't in the mood to put up with the leering and whispers. Perhaps she wouldn't be so bothered by it if they weren't all acting as if she couldn't possibly hear them, or if she hadn't spent the entirety of dinner with people gawking at her as though she were in a zoo.
"If you all wouldn't mind," Elle said very plainly, going to the bed her trunk was positioned in front of, "I would appreciate it if you wouldn't speak about me as if I wasn't here."
The three girls all looked surprised, as if they never thought she would hear them loudly whispering about her. Elle sighed heavily and sat on her bed, smiling some when she saw her cat, Dubbie, curled up on the foot of her bed. When Elle settled down in her bed, Dubbie looked up, seemingly pleased to see Elle, and the small cat stood up, stretched, and then trotted over to Elle, climbing into her lap.
Elle noticed Parvati, Eloise, and Lavender had all moved from their beds and gathered on the floor by Parvati's bed, as if trying to keep hidden from view. Elle could see the top of their heads, and they were drawn very close together, and she could hear them all attempting to whisper to each other, but she could still hear what they were saying; and of course, they were talking about Elle.
Frustrated, Elle let out a sigh and leaned back, resting against the headboard of her bed, closing her eyes.
"Don't mind them," said a voice.
Elle's eyes shot opened and she looked over and saw Hermione had put down her book and was now looking at Elle with a small smile.
"They were talking about me until you walked in," Hermione continued. "I don't think they actually know how to whisper."
Elle chuckled softly, feeling a bit better.
"What's your cat's name?" said Hermione curiously.
"Her name is Dubbie," said Elle with a smile. "Did you bring a pet?"
Hermione shook her head. "No, my parents didn't buy one — it was a bit of a culture shock for them, going to Diagon Alley, so I tried not to pester them about a pet."
Elle nodded. "If you don't mind me asking, how odd is it coming here after growing up in a non-magic household your entire life?"
Hermione looked a bit surprised that Elle asked. "It's been quite the experience — the last month since I received my letter has been quite the whirlwind of events. My mother and father were very surprised when I got my letter, and so was I, but they seemed to be just as excited as I was —"
And so, Hermione and Elle talked to each other for well over an hour, Dubbie going to sleep at some point during their conversation. The two of them even managed to stay up later than Lavender, Parvati, and Eloise, who all went to bed while the two girls were talking. It wasn't until Hermione stole a glance and the large clock that hung on the wall that they realized how late it was.
"Oh my," Hermione said, her eyes widening some. "It's nearly eleven o'clock — I didn't realize we had been talking so long."
Elle's eyes widened some, and she looked at the close — sure enough, Hermione was right. It was awfully late, and tomorrow was the first day of classes.
"I guess we better get off to bed then," Elle muttered.
Hermione laughed softly and nodded, laying down in her bed. "Well, good night, Elle."
"Mm, good night, Hermione," Elle said softly, laying in her bed and getting under the covers.
As Elle laid there, she realized just how wrong her first impression of Hermione had been — much like Ron, she had assumed she was a very annoying, studious girl. And while her studies may have been on the the forefront of Hermione's mind, Elle quickly learned there was much more to her than meets the eye.
However, Elle didn't think about that for too long, because very shortly after she laid down, she fell fast asleep.
Author's Note: Hey there, everyone! First of all, I just wanted to say thank you for reading my story, I really appreciate it, especially if you're reading this, which means you've read this far along in the story! Second, I just wanted to take a minute and say a few things. Some of you may have read Secret Relations before — I wrote this story long ago and had it posted on here, but I stopped writing it. I realized that I didn't like how the story was written, and there were so many things I could have done better, so I decided to delete the story and start from scratch. So, this is Secret Relations, just revamped; I've changed Lily's name to Elle (I liked it better), and I've changed a few major plot points. So, if you were one of my readers from the original story, I hope you like the updated version better. I hope to keep chapters coming out steadily, as I have all the way until year four typed up. Anyway, thank you all for reading, and feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think! Anyway, that's all I have to say for now — stay tuned for chapter nine!
