A/N. Eeesh, how did I hit 4000 words without even getting to the castle? This chapter was a lot of fun to write, so I hope you enjoy it.
Thank you for your feedback and reviews, I always take them into consideration even if I ultimately decide to go a different way, or if I end up disagreeing. I'm not at all offended by constructive criticism, so no worries.
Chapter 37
The Hogwarts Express
September 1st
Hermione lay awake the morning she was to leave for Hogwarts, knowing that it was too early to get up, but unable to sleep even a little bit longer.
She had been looking forward to changing schools because it would give her a fresh start among people who didn't know her, but now she was going to be thrust into a world where she knew next to nothing. There were no familiar subjects listed on her letter, and all the reading she had done in the last month had only filled her with a hundred more questions for every one she'd found an answer to. She'd read all her text books, and several other books she had bought in the spectacular book shop in Diagon Alley; books on wizarding history mostly, as well as several she had found in a section of the book store devoted muggle-born witches and wizards entering the magical world for the first time.
Professor McGonagall had approved of her choices, and Hermione had poured over those books for hours at a time. She was especially glad to have bought a set of three books that detailed vocabulary that was unique to the wizarding world, but her favorite book by far was Hogwarts, A History. She lingered over passages in her head as she lay in bed awake that morning, dreaming about castles and mountainous landscapes surrounded by forests and lakes.
By five thirty she could lay still no longer, and sat up in bed, pulling her vine wood and dragon (!) heartstring wand from her bedside cabinet, and fetching her first year charm book from her trunk. Professor McGonagall had made it clear that she was not to do magic until school started, and Hermione hated breaking rules, but she just couldn't help herself.
Gone were the days when she had worked herself into a headache attempting to produce even a flicker of magic; with her wand and spell books, it all became so simple. The right amount of focus, correct pronunciation of the spell, and the precise movement detailed on the textbook pages produced amazing results.
The wizarding histories had also clued her in to certain things about wizarding society; as a victim of almost constant bullying by her peers, she was an eleven year old who didn't contain much naivety, and as such was saddened but not surprised to read of the prejudice prevailing wizarding society. Witches and wizards born to non-magic parents were the subjects of wide-spread discrimination; there had been a war that had ended only ten years ago led by pure-blood elitists attempting to take over wizarding society in England. The leader of the movement sounded like the stuff that nightmares were made up of, and had only been struck down when he'd attempted to kill an infant; she had bought a few books that covered the war, and none of them really seemed to know how Arya Potter had survived the killing curse, or why Voldemort had died that night. One of them even suggested that he hadn't died at all, and would return one day to finish the war he had started.
The story made her shudder, but she had been excited to put together the timeline and discover that Arya Potter would be in her year if she attended Hogwarts like her parents had. It was all terribly exciting, but also scary. By the end of the day she'd be in a magic castle, already sorted into her house, and ready to learn as much as possible (she'd read that the library was one of the most extensive in the magical world).
She put her book and wand away when she heard her parents stirring in the next room over, dressed in her normal clothes, and gently folded her witches robes on the top layer of her trunk so that she could reach them to change on the train. She attempted to tame her mass of bushy hair, but gave up after a few minutes; perhaps she'd learn some kind of spell that would help with that.
Breakfast passed in a blur, Hermione forcing herself to eat despite a total lack of appetite, and then it was time to go. Hermione double checked her school list, and helped her parents haul her heavy trunk and two extra book bags into the car, and then they were off to Kings Cross station. Hermione watched the house disappear behind them as they drove away, knowing that it would be months until she saw it again. She'd never been away from home for more than a few weeks, never been away from her parents for more than a day or two; she told herself that if she was hoping to get into Gryffindor house, she'd better be brave, and turned forward in her seat resolutely, ready to face the magical world.
Arya was up absurdly early on the morning of September 1st, but Sirius was up even earlier, due to the fact that he hadn't gone to sleep at all the night before. When he had been heading off to Hogwarts as a child it had been with great relief to leave his horrible home life behind, and his parents had been just as happy to see him go as he had been to leave.
Sending Arya off to school was different; she was excited to go, but he felt like sending her off was similar to tearing off a piece of himself to send away as well. He was keeping a good attitude about it, unwilling to bring her down from her excitement, but it was hard. The entire situation was made worse by his knowledge that Hogwarts this year might not be the safe place that it normally was; the philosopher's stone was being guarded there this year, and Dumbledore was sure that someone working for Voldemort was attempting to steal it. The break in at the bank proved his fears, but Sirius couldn't approve of keeping it in the school.
Dumbledore hadn't told him everything, he was sure. That man had layers of plans that an onion would envy, and he'd told Sirius that though he was partial to every horcrux related secret, the matter of the stone was between him and his old friend, Nicholas Flamel. Sirius detested being kept in the dark, and he hated that Arya would be so close to something that always drew the worst sort of people toward it. Dumbledore had comforted him by assuring him that Professor Snape would be tasked specifically with watching over his daughter, and Sirius had looked at him in such a way that Dumbledore hadn't needed legilamancy to know that he thought he was bonkers.
At Remus's insistence, Sirius had avoided talking about Snape with Arya, except to explain that they'd had a seven year long feud with him in their school days. Remus had added that they'd often been the instigators, and that he wasn't proud of their actions, even considering that Snape had turned out to be… 'less than a decent sort of person'. Sirius had reluctantly agreed that they had been less than fair toward him at the beginning, but insisted that he'd deserved it by the end. He did agree that filling Arya with his own grudge was a bad idea; she was capable of making her own judgments. His decision not to inflict his own prejudice on her didn't change his opinion of the man himself one wit; Snape's love of the dark arts, involvement in the war, and hatred of James made him the last man on earth that he'd want looking after his daughter.
Sirius had warned Dumbledore that if Arya got caught up in whatever mad scheme he was organizing at the school this year Voldemort returning would be that least of his worries. He'd have to be satisfied with that, unless he was willing to send her abroad for school, which he certainly wasn't.
Arya emerged tousle haired and sleepy eyed at six thirty in the morning, and Sirius patted the spot beside him on the couch. She nudged the cat out of the way and sat next to him, resting her head on his shoulder tiredly. Sirius put his arm around her thin shoulders as the cat climbed into his lap and purred contentedly. They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, watching the sky lighten outside the cottage windows.
Arya eventually broke the silence. "So, do you know what Dumbledore's package is that was almost stolen?"
Sirius grinned. His daughter was no simpleton.
"Course I do." He ruffled her hair and made her turn around so that he could braid it one last time before she'd have to deal with it on her own. "Keep your nose out this time, if you can at all help it. You know how Dumbledore is, - always caught up in grand plans and dangerous things."
He tied the braid off, the end all the way down to the middle of her back, and she turned toward him again, a slight pout on her face. He flicked her bottom lip, making her smile instead, and then he withdrew a palm sized paper wrapped object from his pocket and handed it to her.
"This used to belong to James," he explained as she carefully un-wrapped a handheld square of bright mirror. "It's a two way mirror, James and I used them to talk while we were in separate classes or detentions. I've put protective spells on it to keep it from breaking, knowing you as I do, and I'll keep mine on me at all times. If you ever need anything, or want to chat, just speak my name into the mirror."
Arya's eyes widened, and she carefully wrapped the paper around it again before hugging him in thanks; he wasn't the only one who was a bit apprehensive about her starting school, though her excitement usually over-shadowed her nerves.
She went back to her room to pack the mirror and dress for the day, emerging ten minutes later with her book bag over her shoulder and hauling her trunk behind her. Sirius had put an undetectable extension charm on a regular book bag and given it to her as birthday present; it was the only reason his bookworm daughter wasn't dragging ten bags of books behind her. If the feather-light charm ever wore off, she'd no doubt be unable to budge it so much as an inch, despite her hard earned muscles.
Remus emerged eventually, and Arya helped make their customarily large breakfast, even though they'd skipped their normal morning run. Even her excitement and nerves didn't dampen her appetite, and her entire plate of food vanished in minutes.
Though it would have been practical to side-along apparate to the platform, Sirius and Arya had planned a last motorcycle ride to Kings Cross. Remus would meet them there in a few hours with her trunk, book bag, and owl.
Sirius stood up and fetched their helmets while Arya did a last check of her room for missing items, kissed the protesting cat goodbye, and then shot out the door like sparks from a wand.
Sirius shook his head ruefully as he followed after her; Hogwarts wasn't going to know what hit it.
The Grangers arrived in Kings Cross at ten past ten, a full fifty minutes before the train was expected to depart from platform nine and three-quarters. Hermione's father retained his now familiar expression of bemused disbelief, seeming to retain the idea that they were all being badly pranked (despite Professor McGonagall's magical demonstration two months previously), right up until the moment they walked through a solid brick barrier and emerged onto the platform.
The platform wasn't busy yet, due to their early arrival, but there were a few families helping their kids haul trunks onto the train already, and Hermione led the way on to the train, her dad lifting her trunk into the overhead storage of an empty compartment. She stowed her overly stuffed book bag on her seat, and followed her dad off the train to say goodbye.
One of her introductory books had described how some muggle parents reject their children when their magical gifts were revealed, and Hermione was full heartedly thankful that though her parents were awed and confused by the situation, they had never given her any reason to doubt their love for her. Her dad jumped when a boy carrying a large owl in a cage walked by them, and Hermione decided to say goodbye before the platform truly became crowded; she didn't want her parents any more uncomfortable than they already were.
It was hard to say goodbye, and she didn't want to draw it out and start crying, so she hugged them both tightly, promised to write as often as she could, and scurried onto the train, leaning out the window to wave as her parents made their way back toward the barrier, her dad dabbing at his eyes. And then it was time to wait. She checked her watch; there was still forty minutes to wait, and the platform was beginning to fill up.
She fished her uniform out of her trunk and changed into her odd robes, tugging at the dark material that fell all the way to her feet. She thought it looked a bit silly, but everyone would be wearing them at school so she wouldn't stand out. She fetched her book Muggle to Magical, a Wizarding Introduction from her bag, and set it on her lap open to the first chapter, but it was more a nervous habit than anything, because instead of reading she found herself watching the families appearing on the platform. There was so much variety among the crowd that there was always something new to look at; owls and cats were adding their noises to the growing fray, and students from eleven to seventeen were gathering with their families to say good bye.
A girl her own age with dark hair and an up-tilted nose was parting from her parents right outside Hermione's window. Unlike most families she could see, there was no hugging or tearful goodbyes with her, the father nodded formally and the mother gripped her arm lightly, and then she was boarding the train. Hermione shook her head in confusion, wondering if that was an old wizarding family; her book said some of the old houses were still very traditional and formal. The girl slid the compartment door open a moment later, took in the sight of Hermione, read the title of the book on her lap, and then sneered in disdain and left, obviously looking for a compartment further down the train that was free from muggleborns.
Well then, Hermione thought, raising her eyebrows in shock. That hadn't taken long; the worst of her tormentors in her old school could've learned a thing or two from that look of disdain, the best they had managed to convey was hate.
It didn't matter if every person she met rejected her, she was going to learn magic and no one could stop her. She had just as much right to be there as any of them. She bit her lip and managed to read a paragraph before she started to re-read every line, unable to absorb the words.
She could tell herself that it didn't matter all she wanted, but she had so hoped to make friends here.
It was quarter to eleven when the compartment door slid open again, and Hermione looked up to see a tall girl with flaming red hair, green eyes, and more freckles than she'd ever seen peering into the compartment.
"First year too?" She asked cheerfully, and Hermione nodded.
"Saving those seats for anyone? Everywhere else is filling up fast."
"No, they're open." Hermione answered, wondering if this girl would notice the title of her book and dismiss her as the other girl had. Instead, the girl grinned at her, slid the door all the way open and hauled a large trunk and owl in behind her; two boys followed her into the compartment with their own trunks and helped her wrestle the heavy luggage into the overhead. The tall red haired freckled boy could have been her brother, and the round faced boy smiled shyly at Hermione as they all settled in.
Hermione watched the other girl deposit her shoulder pack onto the seat across from her and throw the window open, leaning almost all the way out to wave at someone down the platform. She pulled back in, and a moment later a tall dark haired man with storm grey eyes appeared outside, trailed by a shorter red haired girl who looked close to tears.
Hermione jumped a bit in when the man found a foothold on the outside of the train and leaned half into the compartment to scoop the girl into a crushing hug, - no formal parting here, anyway.
"Agh! Dad, let-me-go!"
The girl squeaked, though she didn't seem to mind all that much, laughing as he released his hold on her and backed out of the window again. He ducked out of sight for a second, and when he stood up again the younger girl was on his shoulders, startled into laughter instead of tears.
"I'll write you all the time Ginny! It'll be just like you're there yourself, I promise!" There was another hug through the window, and then the train began to move, starting slowly and building up speed, leaving the platform with the laughing and crying girl and the grey eyed man behind. The girl closed the window and sat down across from Hermione, wiping the back of her hand across her slightly teary eyes.
"Hi!" She said after the last tear had been wiped away, sounding perfectly cheerful despite her watery eyes. "I'm Arya Potter-Black, this is Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom."
She stuck out a hand for Hermione to shake, and the two boys waved a greeting from where they were jostling for space on the seats. Only when she said her name did Hermione notice the lightning bolt scar on her forehead, standing out stark white against the thick coating of freckles. She wanted to ask who the man she'd called 'dad' was since her books said she'd went to live with an aunt and uncle, but decided that might be best saved for later. If her name was hyphenated it was likely that her books were a bit out of date.
"Oh! I'm Hermione Granger." She shook the offered hand. "You were in all the modern history books I read this summer. My parents are both dentists, so I never even heard of any of this until I got my letter two months ago."
She figured that if anyone had a problem with her muggle parents it had better come into the open now rather than later. She refused to be ashamed of them for something as foolish as being born without magic.
"Extra reading was probably a smart idea, but I wouldn't take most of those books too seriously, no one really knows what happened. It's all just speculation and guessing; rubbish thing to be famous for in my opinion, I don't even remember anything. How did your parents take the news? My aunt and uncle hated magic."
"My dad thought it was a prank for the longest time, but my mom said there'd always been strange things happening around me. I was so surprised to get my letter, I had no idea there were other people like me and schools to teach it and everything. I read all my text books, of course, I hope it's enough, but I'm sure I'm loads behind everyone who grew up with magic."
She shut her mouth with a snap. She always talked fast and loud when she was nervous, it was a habit that she couldn't seem to break. Arya seemed nice, but she was sure she'd avoid her just like the girls at her school had once she realized how geeky she was. But there was no point in hiding it; she wasn't going to change any time soon.
It was Ron, the red headed boy, who answered. "Don't worry, you won't be behind at all if you've read all your text books, that's more than I've done and my entire family is magic. Tons of kids come from muggle families and they learn just fine."
No one here seemed to mind that she had muggle parents, and Hermione felt a bit of her tension drain. Maybe she wouldn't be as far behind as she'd assumed.
"I didn't know about anything magic until three years ago either, when Sirius adopted me." Arya smiled reassuringly at her, and Hermione smile back. Maybe she'd even have a friend.
"Do you guys know what houses you want to be in? Gryffindor sounds by far the best, but Ravenclaw would be good too, I think."
"Anything but Slytherin!" Ron exclaimed, and Arya rolled her eyes at him. "Actually, I'd better be in Gryffindor or my parents might disown me; everyone in my family has been sorted there for generations."
Neville looked increasingly worried, holding a tank with a large toad on his lap. "I'll probably end up in Hufflepuff, but both my parents were in Gryffindor, and my gran…"
Arya shook her head, and said, "I keep telling you that Hufflepuf wouldn't be a bad thing! Why does everyone look down on a house whose motto is 'Loyalty, Justice, and Patience'?"
Ron muttered something about puffballs under his breath, but Arya ignored him.
"I'm not fussed about it, myself, though Gryffindor would be good. What subjects are you looking forward to the most?"
Now that was a subject Hermione could talk about.
They were soon deep into a discussion about transfiguration and charms, and Neville and Ron chatted about something else together, not sharing the girls' enthusiasm for academics. Ron eventually fell silent, shooting a look between Arya and Hermione as they animatedly talked about Latin root words and the cultural differentiation's between magical practices. They'd discovered they'd read one of the same books on the subject, and Arya was describing some of the theories in other books about it that she'd lend her when they got to the castle.
The conversation paused when Ron let out a kind of pained noise, still looking between the two of them.
"What?" Arya asked.
"It's just… there's two of you now. I think one was more than enough to make the rest of us feel like complete dunderheads, and now there are two of you. That's just not fair…"
Neville nodded his head in fervent agreement, and Arya laughed at their fearful expressions. It had a slightly evil sound to it, but Hermione couldn't help but grin a bit as well. None of her classmates had ever been able to keep up with her before, but now she had no fear of Arya finding out how geeky she was and leaving, because it was becoming obvious that Arya was the same as she was in that regard.
Arya switched the subject to something more light hearted that they could all participate in, and the wild landscape sped by as the day wore on. Hermione had the misfortune of choosing a sardine flavored Every Flavored Bean from a carton that Arya bought off the sweet cart to share, but the pumpkin pasty was delicious.
The compartment door slid open as they were finishing their treats, and Hermione saw a pale, sharp faced boy with white blond hair and a sneering expression, flanked by two of the biggest eleven year olds she'd ever seen. The boys eyes passed over Neville, lingered on Ron for a moment, and studied her with obvious contempt before fixing on Arya.
"Hello again. I see you've been making friends…"
His eyes flicked to Hermione again, as if communicating special meaning. One of those people again, then.
"Yes, I have." Arya responded firmly. "You want to join us?"
"Er, no thanks. You might find that associating with a… different crowd might be beneficial in the years to come. We're down at the end of the train if you want to join us." It was clear that the invitation was meant for Arya only.
"I'm not sure associating with the sons and daughters of the people who followed the man who murdered my parents would be particularly beneficial to me, per say. I know who your crowd is, Draco." Her eyes flicked to the boys on either side of him.
The boy flushed slightly. "Careful, Potter, the invitation isn't likely to be repeated often."
He swept out of the compartment, lackeys close behind, and Arya closed the door behind him.
"What a pretentious arse." Hermione heard her mutter under her breath, and she looked down at her lap, smiling. It was good to know some people didn't care a wit about pure-blood alliances.
Ron entertained them by doing a rather good impersonation of the blond haired boy, who Arya told her was named Draco Malfoy, since he hadn't bothered to introduce himself.
The encounter was quickly forgotten, and Hermione reminded everyone that they needed to change into their robes as the sky darkened outside; within half an hour the train was slowing to a stop in Hogsmeade station. Hermione took a deep breath, and followed the others out of the crowded train, into the chilly unknown night.
A/N. With Draco's father not sure whether he wants to oppose Arya openly or not, I feel as if he would have told his son not to make an enemy of her straight off the bat. I'm trying to stay true to his character, but also make him speak with more caution.