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So far... The reborn Hermione befriended Harry, Neville, Luna, and the Weasleys while young and, though Voldemort died early, she formed the secret Cathesis League to fight corruption. Now the youngsters are starting at Hogwarts, she has contacted the most trusted members of the old D.A. to form CREST: a new study/defence group. But a ruthless half-hag bodyguard has been assigned to protect Harry in his first year. Now read on...
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Chapter 34
Welcome To Hogwarts!
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Bittersweet Journey
As Hermione had promised, all the member of Crest received their Hogwarts acceptance letters by owl during July and August. Harry was somewhat miffed that his was addressed to Harry Black, but everyone's list of required books and other items agreed with the one Hermione had previously supplied them with.
Being a Muggle-born, Hermione was handed hers by Minerva Mcgonagall.
"Sorry to disturb you on such a fine Sunday morning," she'd said to Hermione's parents, "but I wanted to meet all of you together. I have to inform you of some rather astonishing news."
But it had been McGonagall who'd been surprised when she'd been told they already knew about magic from Mr Granger's wizard friend 'Adam'.
"Well!" she'd exclaimed with an air of thanks-for-wasting-my-time, "that's the second one this week!" At which point Hermione had decided to tell her she knew Justin and a few other magical children, and that together they'd formed a study group.
Professor McGonagall had nodded, impressed but puzzled, bid them all good day, and Disapparated to consider how best to employ her next couple of now-unscheduled hours.
And so the first of September finally arrived, and after a tearful departure from her mother, Hermione Apparated early with a small, extension-charmed trunk to Kings Cross station, there to watch out for her friends. She was particularly concerned about Ron – still holidaying in France – from whom she'd heard nothing for over a week, at which time a bedraggled owl had brought only a hasty message reporting Mrs Weasley was reluctant to leave Ginny 'until the last minute'. Ron was cutting it fine if he was intending to travel directly from a Floo port to the train station.
"Harry!" Hermione ran forward as soon as she spotted her best friend entering the train station.
But her excitement was short-lived. Hestia was distressed and Sirius was looking rather flustered. "Remember what I've told you, Harry," he said, "and you'll be fine."
He looked around with a worried smile at Hermione's approach. "Hermione, I'm anxious to remind you, be extra careful how you behave around Harry – no sudden movements, no playacting that might look dangerous, no wand pointing – and I'd advise you to keep your distance as far as possible."
"Don't worry, I can take care of myself as well as Harry."
They found Hannah between platforms nine and ten with her father. "We're waiting for Justin and Dean; Dad's going to show us all how to get through," she explained excitedly. "We'll catch up with you later."
Harry and Hermione went through to platform nine and three-quarters and soon spotted Neville and Susan talking rather awkwardly together all on their own; they looked relieved when they heard Hermione's shout, and turned in her direction.
"Have you seen Ron yet?" Hermione called out as she approached.
They shook their heads. Neville said, "There's still fifteen minutes – let's find a compartment."
They bagged seats and settled themselves in – Hermione still glancing anxiously at her watch and leaning out the window to scrutinise the dwindling crowd on the platform.
The others all arrived together in a rush: Justin and Hannah, Ron and Dean, huffing and puffing to get their trunks onto the train as the whistle sounded.
"Not my fault!" gasped Ron. "Mum was going mental! Dad had to drag her away in the end! What with Charlie going away tomorrow to study dragons in Romania and Ginny insisting on staying in France, you'd think Mum was never going to see either of them again!"
"Ron! Don't say that!" cried Hermione. "How were they anyway – Ginny and Luna? How'd they look?"
"Loopy as ever. That Luna's brought Ginny out of herself more – quite cheeky at times."
Hermione said, "Dean, I suppose you've realised that this is Ron Weasley? Ron, this is Dean Thomas, one of the new members who joined Crest while you were away."
"Crest? What happened to 'Shield'?" groused Ron.
Harry spoke up, "Uuh... we took a vote. It was close but..."
"Oh, well." Ron and Dean exchanged nods. "The more the merrier," said Ron. "What team do you support?"
"West Ham. We had quite a–"
"Who?"
Hermione said, "They're a Muggle soccer team, Ron."
For most of an hour, Ron and Dean enthused about their own particular favourite sport while Justin and Hannah chatted about what it would be like to be surrounded by hundreds of magical children at Hogwarts. Hermione tried to ease the obvious awkwardness between Neville and Susan but Harry was both hindering and helping by making light of it all – exhilarated to be going on this new adventure. She tried to divert him a little:
"How's your mum and dad getting along these days, Harry?"
"Fine. Well, she's sometimes a bit low – because I'm going to be away, I think."
Hermione pondered this for a few moments. "I'd have thought she'd have come with you to Diagon Alley then."
"Yes, well... that was one of her off days."
Hermione looked thoughtful but Ron said, "That's nothing to how my mum was when we left Ginny."
Susan smiled knowingly and said, "All grownup ladies have off days," which caused Neville's cheeks to colour slightly. He was saved from further embarrassing attention when a witch arrived at the doorway:
"Anything off the trolley, dears?"
"Oh, yeah," cried Harry, jumping up. "Justin, you've got to try a chocolate frog! You too, Hannah." He took several from the lady and handed them out. "Have you got the every-flavour beans! Oh, and Scoff Drops, Liquorice Wands, Sugar Quills – oh and some of those, and those, and erm... those."
"Harry-ee!" laughed Hermione. "You'll be sick."
"Wait till you try these." He offered Dean a pink Scoff Drop and winked at Ron.
No sooner had Dean popped it in his mouth than he exclaimed in a high-pitched squeaky voice, "You're a useless showoff, Potter! That's not how to make friends, you stupid prat!"
Harry roared with laughter.
Ron said, "They make you say some of your worst thoughts but make you sound ridiculous too!"
"But I never meant–!" cried Dean, now in his normal voice.
"Ah, but just for a moment it crossed your mind, right? And if you drop one..." Ron did so deliberately and as the Drop bounced it squealed, "Clumsy idiot, boy! Why don't you bang your own head on the floor next time!"
"And you can control them a bit so long as you scoff a lot – oh, and scoff a lot!" Harry laughed at the old joke and thrust the packet towards Hermione. "Take plenty of the brown ones to make it last. Do whats-his-name – Snape – like you did the other week. You were hilarious."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You've never even seen him yet, Harry!"
"I know but if he's half as funny as you do him, then he's going to be loads of fun!"
"You won't think that when you meet him!" Clutching the bag of sweets, she took out a handful and slipped a couple into her mouth before uttering slowly in a deeply gruff intonation, "Ah... Mr Potter! Our ... new ... celebrity."
There was an eruption of laughter on hearing the small girl speaking with a man's voice.
"Tell me, Potter. What would you get if you mixed an infusion of slimeweed with a Potions teacher out shopping?"
"I don't know, Professor," Harry said with feigned meekness.
"You ... don't ... know. Clearly fame isn't everything. You'd be faced with a very slippery customer of course – one thousand points from Gryffindor."
The compartment resonated with the howls of laughter from the other children.
"But, sir!"
"One million points for breathing, Potter!"
Guffaws mixed with applause they could probably hear back at King's Cross station – but they all instantly became silent as the compartment door banged aside and a hideous figure stood there, hunched over and scowling, smoke snorting rapidly from a blackened wood pipe clenched between twisted yellow teeth.
The intruder tugged the pipe away from her mouth to screech, "Sharrup yer feggin' row!" Then one watery eye fell upon Hermione who had been handing back the packet of sweets to Harry. The old witch strode forward and knocked them out of her hand, screaming, "Yer tryin' ter poison 'im, 'eh?"
She was prodding Hermione with her pipe when the dozens of Scoff Drops bouncing around the compartment floor began yelling insults at her, "You bungling buffoon!", "What a clumsy arse!", "Useless prat of–"
The dancing confectionery was blasted out of existence by one audible swish of the witch's pipe from which streamed an arc of foul tobacco smoke. She thrust it into her mouth again and glared at everyone. They stared back in astonishment, studying the distortions in her features.
The woman's eye – the half-closed, watery one, clearly had a terrible squint, the bulbous nose was as hooked down as her chin tilted up, and her skin was as sallow as an old potato.
"Seen enuff' 'ave yer? Well, gerraht all on yer! AHT! AHT!" She physically seized Susan and Ron's arms and hustled them out into the corridor. "All on yer!" She didn't wait but grabbed two more of the occupants and shoved them roughly out the door, ignoring their protests. Her strength was far greater than her appearance suggested, for she immediately spun around and was reaching for more, but Hannah and Justin hurried past her. "My father will hear of this!"
Only Harry and Hermione remained. Hermione was seething, almost ready to hurl the woman off the train, but common sense was working too. This witch was an unknown, and Hermione dare not show her hand too obviously. "I'm thsorry... are y-you thSteff, that isth... Missth Daggard? Harry'sth b-bodyguard?"
The witch tilted her head and examined Hermione's face as if she were refusing rotten cod at the fishmongers. "Din'tcha 'ear me, pig-uggly!" The pipe twitched in her mouth and Hermione was thrown back against the window, then sideways like a ragdoll high to the seats opposite Harry where she banged her head on the overhead luggage racks before slumping down. Then finally, before she could draw breath, she had been hurled out of the door which slammed shut after her. The compartment windows instantly blackened over leaving her and the others blind to Harry's plight. All they heard was, "You listen' 'ere, Black! Yer'll do as yer told or I'll–" before a muffling spell reduced the rant to a dull, smothered rumble.
Hermione became aware that the cream of the Crest organisation were looking down at their captured leader's first lieutenant with a mixture of doubt and disappointment. Ron helped her up. She had to think – and fast.
"She's Harry's bodyguard and won't harm him but we need to regroup, think sensibly, and not act rashly. Daggard is clearly a very powerful witch and we're beginners. She's exactly the sort of bully we need to learn to protect ourselves from."
"What right has she to throw us out of our compartment?" cried Justin. "All our belongings are in there. The train is full. Are we supposed to stand about in the corridor all the way to Scotland!"
"That's just it. We don't know what rights she has. I propose we test them. Will someone search the train to see if there are any empty seats anywhere? I'm going to see the Head Girl. Who's coming with me?"
Ron and Susan were despatched to look for seats; the rest of them followed Hermione to the front of the train.
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A Sticky Situation
The prefects enjoyed an open lounge carriage all to themselves, undivided by compartments, and as Hermione led Neville and the others in, one of them, a long and lanky seventeen-year-old girl sprawled across two seats and sipping juice from a goblet, called out, "Where d'you think you firsties are going? Prefects only in here!"
"Pleasth... there'sth a problem on the train. We'd like to thspeak to B-Brenda, pleasth," said Hermione.
The girl frowned and swung a leg dismissively. "That's me, and I said Prefects only!"
"No, Brenda Higgsth is noted for her sense of fair play which isth why she isth Head Girl whereasth you are a prefect and notable only by the depth of your thickheaded incompetence."
The girl spluttered juice all down her front and stumbled to her feet roaring. "Why you little f–!"
"I'm Higgs," cut in another voice. "What's the trouble?" The girl coming forward looked stern but Hermione knew her character well enough not to be concerned.
"Harry Potter's bodyguard threw usth all out of our compartment. We have as much right as anyone to a seat on the Hogwartsth Expressth."
The lanky girl strode forward and stamped her foot. "You heard what she called me! Chuck her out, Brenda, before I curse her big ugly mouth!"
Higgs sighed. "Mary, go on patrol will you? I'll handle this."
"I told you I can't stand on my... bad leg!" Caught out sturdily on her feet, she looked around wildly for a seat that didn't need walking to.
"Go!" thundered Higgs.
Mary, limping over-woodenly, glared at Hermione, pushed past Neville and Justin, and headed down the train with a humph.
"For your information, the Headmaster told us to give Steff Daggard plenty of leeway," said Higgs. "In some respects she's been given the same status as a Hogwarts teacher so if she says out, then that means out."
"But there was no excuse to be violent!" cried Justin.
"Violent? What did she do?"
"Well, she... uuh... she pushed us out into the corridor."
The Head Girl's eyes widened in mock horror. "Merlin's Beard! Stop the train and send for the Minister of Magic at once! A student has been pushed! Whatever next? Listen, I'm told if you keep your nose out and don't resist her then you'll be fine."
"But where are we supposed to go now?" wailed Hannah. "And there are two more of us."
Higgs eyes darted around the carriage. Most of the prefects were on patrol but cloaks and bags had been used to claim seats.
"Take that empty corner over there – just this once mind, and watch your manners. And you..." She turned back to Hermione. "What's your name?"
"Granger." Hermione stepped forward and held out her hand. "Thank you."
Higgs accepted her handshake. "Okay, Granger, but don't be so lippy to prefects in future." Then she grimaced and slowly raised her open palm. It was gooey with one of the last couple of Scoff Drops Hermione had forgotten she was still clutching. Higgs scowled in disgust and shook it off. As it hit the floor it growled, "You bungling half-witted turd! You couldn't even see I was trying to get some sleep?"
"Oops! Sorry," said Hermione, her own hand messy with the very last of the abusive sweets. She looked round for somewhere to throw it.
"Don't you bloody dare!" snapped Higgs.
Hermione wisely decided against it, wrapped the sweet in her hankie then pocketed it with an apologetic simper under the Head Girl's watchful eye.
Higgs rolled her eyes at Hermione then returned to the senior prefects at their own table, wiping the disgustingly-sticky hand down her robe as she did so.
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The Hag Rules
"Neville, I'm going to fetch Ron and Susan," said Hermione, once they'd secured their seats in the near corner of the prefects' carriage. He nodded distractedly, having found himself awkwardly trapped between Hannah and Justin.
Once out of sight of the prefects, Hermione sent a quiet Patronus to Ron, then swept invisibly towards Harry's compartment. Through walls and windows, flesh and fabric she slipped soundlessly until she found Harry on his knees with Daggard pinching his ear to hold him there.
"Ow!"
"My rules! Say them again and get it right this time!"
"Oooww! Alright! Alright! One: Always do what you say!"
"Two?" Daggard blew the word out with smoke from her pipe.
"Two is... Ow! My friends will get hurt if I don't."
"And finally, three?"
"I mustn't ever tell anyone. Oh, and don't forget four," cried Harry, "you're a lump of cockroach dung! Ooooowwwww!"
Daggard dragged him by his ear back to his seat. "Sit dahn. Shurrup! and mind yer p's and q's. Let me make it clear, Black. I hates all your kind, but mostly you, and I'm only babysittin' yer 'cos I have ter! But jus' keep in mind it won't always be so..."
"Me? I'm not a Black!"
"Yer named in magic, yer'll see!"
"But why hate ME? You don't even know me!"
Daggard rapped her pipe hard on his forehead, scattering sparks and particles of hot ash down his face. "Don't fink I've forgit watcha got there, Black! Yer stole my thunder! Now shut it!"
Harry glared and lifted his chin in defiance at his tormentor. "My dad will sort you out, don't worry!"
Daggard sneered. "Yer dad ain't 'ere' is he? You fink 'e's safe? Fink yer ma's safe? Listen, I find out everyone's weakness. That's why I'm so successful. Your weakness is yer friends and family, and don'choo forgit it! And it'll be yer own fault won't it? Yeah."
Hermione had heard enough. There was nothing much she could do for Harry at this time anyway, and she couldn't hold her immaterial spell much longer. The other kids would also soon be wondering where she'd got to. She returned to the prefects' carriage.
"For the time being," she explained to the other kids, "we should observe and learn. Harry is not in serious physical danger but we must not do anything close to him that might look risky. That foul hag is only interested in saving her own skin. She's taken an oath to protect Harry and if he comes to harm, then she'll die, but she can't stop us sitting with Harry in class and mealtimes and in the dorm. Meanwhile, I'll work out a plan. There may be a loophole in the oath. Perhaps put her to sleep for a year or–"
Ron shook his head. "If it's anything like the Unbreakable Vow then that won't work. If she can't protect Harry for any reason then she dies."
"Oh, well, I'll think of something," said Hermione, but inside she was not so confident as she sounded. "Remember, problems might affect any of us but our strength is sticking together no matter what. We support Harry, then when any of you are in trouble, the rest of us will be there for you, right?"
"Right!" cried several, though there were some less than enthusiastic mumbles too. Hermione knew she'd still much to do in bonding everyone together.
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At the Drop of a Hat
As darkness fell, and the train finally pulled into Hogsmeade Station, Daggard was first off. She refused to let Harry risk the boats on the lake and instead, frogmarched him up the carriage track to the school. Only when McGonagall took charge could Harry rejoin his friends along with the rest of the first-years – though Steff Daggard was never far away.
After they had assembled in an anteroom, McGonagall said, "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."
"Remember," said Hermione to the Crest members, "the Sorting Hat does take account of your own choice so–"
"So what house are you hoping for?" The interruption was from Draco, but he was addressing Harry. "I'm Malfoy, by the way, Draco Malfoy. I can help you a great deal if you're in Slytherin." He held out his hand.
Steff Daggard stiffened, took a step closer, but said nothing. If anything, she appeared puzzled.
Harry sized up Draco's attitude. Hermione had told him a great deal about the boy and most of it was bad, but as with Snape, their policy was to avoid antagonism if possible. He accepted Draco's hand and said, "I'll be in Gryffindor. Has to be."
Disappointment clouded Malfoy's features. He glanced around at Ron and Hermione, and seemed to struggle with himself. Finally, he said, "Well, I can still help. Good luck, Black," and turned away just as McGonagall returned.
"Wish people wouldn't keep calling me Black," muttered Harry to Hermione as they were herded into the Great Hall and led to the far end.
As they approached the long staff table, Hermione searched the faces of the teachers seated there. Dumbledore, Hagrid, and Flitwick were present of course – and Quirrell had returned too, sitting beside Snape adjacent to the empty stool which had been placed in front of the table. She observed that Quirrell looked very different without his turban, but had time only for that one glimpse because the first-years were made to line up with the teachers' table behind them, looking at the other students. The hundreds of faces staring at them seemed like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight.
Professor McGonagall reverently placed the Sorting Hat on top of the stool. Positive murmurs from Crest members told Hermione they were reassured and encouraged that the first of what she had promised was true. But it was when the sorting began that she felt their growing appreciation and even admiration.
"Abbott, Hannah!"
There was only a moment's pause after the hat was placed on Hannah's head.
"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat and the Hufflepuff table roared their approval.
"Bentley, Gerald"
"RAVENCLAW!" More shouts of welcome.
But this time, as the applause died away, there was a longer silence. McGonagall was scrutinising the list in her hand very carefully. She sent a quick puzzled glance towards the Headmaster before reading out:
"Black, Harry!"
Whispers hissed around the Great Hall.
"Black, did she say?"
"The Harry Black?"
Harry folded his arms and pulled a face, refusing to budge until his proper name was called. Hermione gave him a nudge.
"Black, Harry!" McGonagall repeated, glaring directly at Harry.
Hermione nudged his arm again and shrugged her shoulders resignedly at him when he looked at her. Grudgingly, he stomped forward. McGonagall clamped the hat quickly onto his head and Harry thought he heard her give a sigh of relief.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
There was uproar at the Gryffindor table as Harry walked shakily towards it. Relieved not to have been put in Slytherin, he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. Percy Weasley shook his hand vigorously, while the twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!"
"Bones, Susan!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.
As Hermione's predictions became fact, she was aware of a growing pattern of faces turned directly towards her. Surprise and respect were plainly evident in the expressions of those closely studying her and raising their estimation of her. Soon Justin Finch-Fletchley went, as promised, to Hufflepuff followed by Seamus Finnigan to Gryffindor then...
"Granger, Hermione!" called McGonagall.
Hermione walked quickly forward to the stool and sat down, anxious to rejoin Harry at the Gryffindor table. The last thing she saw before the hat dropped over her eyes was the trusting gaze of Crest members; Hannah even had her hands clasped as if in prayer. Next second Hermione was looking at the dark interior of the hat. She waited confidently.
Hmm... said a small voice in her ear. Not too difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There's wonderful talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting ... but I have never witnessed such a wealth of accumulated wisdom, knowledge, and magical presence! It has to be... "RAVENCLAW!"
Hermione numbly gripped the edges of the stool, still waiting for the hat to declare Gryffindor. That was a given – the only possibility. Yes, the hat had shouted something but it made no sense so it wasn't relevant. Only when light hit her eyes as McGonagall pulled off the hat did she blink at the silent hall.
"Sorry?" she whispered to McGonagall. "What did it say?"
McGonagall raised her shoulders and humphed. "I would have thought it was simple enough, Miss Granger! Ravenclaw is your house." She tapped her list where she'd marked it down in ineradicable, everlasting ink. Nobody ever changed houses at Hogwarts.
"But..."
"Please go to your table at once!" McGonagall pointed at the Ravenclaw table."
"No, that can't be right. There's been a mistake."
"Miss Granger!" McGonagall's voice was raised now and everyone could hear it. "You will go to the Ravenclaw table immediately or else report to your head of house for detention!"
Despite herself, Hermione found herself slowly trudging what seemed several lonely miles to her doom. The watching eyes were no longer admiring, they conveyed disappointment, hurt, and confusion – she'd practically sworn as an act of faith to all the Crest members that she'd be in Gryffindor. But Harry's expression was the worst; standing and staring with mouth agape, he looked sick with shock – she'd literally given him her word when he'd been worried about them being separated. And from behind her, she thought she heard Draco's voice muttering to someone: "Well, at least that's wiped the mud-filth off his boots."
She watched Harry sink back down onto his bench, crushed and broken and utterly bewildered. Over his shoulder, she could see Daggard leaning against the wall rejoicing, reading the distress in her expression and sneering at her failure. Could the strange half-hag's magic have been used to tamper with the hat? Having travelled back in time more than a century to relieve Harry's burden of suffering, Hermione's greatest weight of regret would be that she had failed to stay close to her charge.
That flood of remorse swamped Hermione as her knees touched the alien woodwork of the Ravenclaw benches, but she could not bring herself to sit down.
"Enough!"
As McGonagall, the rest of the staff, and the entire student body stared as the outcry echoed around the great chamber, Hermione now knew what she must do. Drowning in an ocean would have been easier but the girl let herself fall back into an abyss of contrition, sliding, sliding backwards forever, these last few minutes...
"Granger, Hermione!" called McGonagall, unaware of the slip back in time.
Magic and matter weakened, Hermione could barely walk to the Sorting Hat stool this second time. The last thing she saw before the hat dropped over her eyes was the trusting gaze of Crest members; as before, Hannah had her hands clasped in prayer. Next second Hermione was looking at the dark interior of the hat once again. She waited – but not so proud and confident this time.
Hmm... said a small voice in her ear. Not too difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There's wonderful talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting ... but I have never witnessed such a wealth of accumulated wisdom, knowledge, and magical presence! It has to be...
"NOOOO!"
Hermione realised she had shouted aloud, so quickly began to address the hat through her thoughts. No. Can't you see? It HAS to be Gryffindor. I won't accept any other house. You HAVE to listen to my choice.
Startled at the outburst, the hat replied, I take your choice into account, yes, but only to weigh it against the other criteria. Why your experience is so vast, I do not know, but it greatly outweighs every other consideration. You must accept my decision is... "RAVENCLAW!"
"I refuse," said Hermione, arguing aloud now and clutching the hat fiercely around her head. "You cannot make me! I'll destroy you! I'll vanish you into non-being!"
McGonagall was struggling to remove the Hat. "Miss Granger! You are, as of NOW, in Ravenclaw and that is an established MAGICAL FACT entered permanently on my list! Nothing, not even Merlin himself, and certainly not vanishing the hat AFTER it has sorted you, can undo that! Now let go of this bluhh— blooming hat, and go to your table at once!"
AFTER! That was the answer. She must vanish the hat BEFORE it sorted her. She lifted the rim of the hat and stared at Harry's distraught expression. It was enough to cut her to the quick. She let the abyss take her again, sliding... sliding backwards outside of time forever...
"Granger, Hermione!" called McGonagall, precisely as she had before.
Both Hermione's magic and matter were now so weakened that she could no longer stand and began to sag at the knees.
"Granger, Hermione!" McGonagall called again, more sternly this time.
Hermione was aware of a figure rushing towards her. It was Harry – Harry helping her to her feet – Harry, explaining to McGonagall that excitement made Hermione nervous – Harry helping her to the stool...
"Well!" humphed McGonagall as she placed the hat on Hermione's head for the third time without knowing it.
Hmm... said a small voice in her ear. Not too difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There's wonderful talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting ...
Summoning what little strength remained, Hermione tried to vanish the hat but it was doubtful she could have done so even verbally with her wand let alone without. Harry! She could feel his arm around her shoulders supporting her! A wild, desperate thought took her. Could Harry vanish the hat? "Har... Har... c-can...?" but her almost inaudible whisper faded to nothing. Drained of all energy, she didn't even have the strength to speak aloud. The idea had been foolish anyway; vanishing was extremely difficult even in fifth year, and Harry had no knowledge of it. No, the Hat was unstoppable without magic. Hermione had nothing left.
...but I have never witnessed such a wealth of accumulated wisdom, knowledge, and magical presence! continued the hat. It has to be...
WAIT! The magic of this castle knows I should be in Gryffindor. I shall appeal to–
Surprised and somewhat affronted, the hat replied, Godric Gryffindor helped build this castle and its magic, and I am his hat. The decision I declare is independent of all other influences and will be noted down by the Deputy Headmistress – even she cannot challenge me. That entry on the official list is the house in which you will belong and no other! The castle's magic has nothing to do with it!
WAIT! You must consider my personal choice! She had to play for time, regain her strength, then vanish the hat before it could speak. Failing which she must prevent the hat speaking even if that meant stuffing her fist into its mouth.
The hat answered, I do take your choice into account, yes, but only to weigh it against the other criteria.
Hermione felt the first tendrils of magic restoring themselves within her – but nowhere near enough to completely eradicate an object the size of the Sorting Hat – not even a feather could she vanish yet, because the vanishing spell needed substantial magical power that many never mastered.
The Hat continued, Exactly why your experience is so vast, I do not know, but it greatly outweighs every other consideration. You must accept my decision is–
A desperate and ridiculous instinct caused Hermione to seize her handkerchief with the intention of forcing it between those leathery lips to gag the hat before it could pronounce her fate. As she did so, something stuck to her hand and, instantly realising what it was, she plunged it into her mouth: it was the final Scoff Drop. Her silent Silencio! was feeble but sufficient for a few seconds to muffle the hat's voice. "GRYFFINDOR!" sneered another strangely-gruff voice in its stead.
Harry helped Hermione off the stool and, after handing the hat to McGonagall, walked his best friend to where she belonged – the Gryffindor table.
Frowning her doubt, the Deputy Headmistress looked accusingly at Snape who glared back at her, as puzzled as she was. The Headmaster responded with a shrug, and, perhaps, a twinkle in his eye.
It was not surprising that the applause for Hermione was only slightly more than average – and that all due to Crest members – yet something momentous had happened. For the first time in Hogwarts history, a Sorting had been thwarted and there was nothing the Hat could do about it. Not even a headmaster was privy to a student's innermost thoughts revealed in this ancient ceremony. The deed was done and McGonagall continued calling names, and the Hat sorted them:
"Goldstein, Anthony!" ... "RAVENCLAW!"
"Goyle, Gregory" ... "SLYTHERIN!"
"Greengrass, Daphne!"
Hermione's head turned so rapidly she almost saw stars. Certainly she couldn't see Neville for a while. Finally she spotted the side of his head cringed down behind Ron's tall frame. Had Daphne goaded him again? Unnerved him? She was smirking arrogantly for the few seconds the hat took to decide:
"SLYTHERIN!"
Unfinished business, thought Hermione. Humiliating gossip could destroy Neville's confidence and set him back years, perhaps permanently. Somehow, the Greengrasses' effect on Neville had to be neutralised. But how?
When Neville's turn came to be sorted, Daphne seemed to be paying special attention to the boy. She sniggered and turned to whisper to Goyle who was sitting next to her. The girl's shallow surface thoughts practically shouted themselves to Hermione's advanced skills with Legilimency who, shocked by the details of how the young Neville had been treated, became determined that the memory would never be audibly voiced by Daphne.
"Longbottom? What about him?" Goyle was asking.
Daphne looked confused. "Uumm... I used to know him."
"And?" frowned Goyle.
"Erm... I forget." She looked across at Neville as the Hat announced, "GRYFFINDOR!" and shook her head. "Oh well, probably not important," she murmured.
Hermione smiled grimly to herself. She'd not travelled back over a century just to watch scummy, stinky Slytherins ruin the lives of her friends all over again. Her fingers twitched briefly under the table...
"OW!" cried Daphne, and rubbed her nose. If she didn't know better, she'd have sworn someone just tweaked it.
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Walls Do Have Ears
After the opening feast was ended, the new Gryffindors wearily made their way up to their common room led by Percy Weasley. It had been a long day.
"The stairs are moving!" cried Dean, clinging to the rail for dear life.
Percy called back. "Yes, you'll get used to them. Hurry along now!"
As the stairs swung to align with a new wall leading up from the third floor landing, a row of ancient portraits greeted them. "Welcome to Hogwarts!"
Dean's jaw dropped. Knights in armour, medieval gentlemen and ladies – and even royalty inclined their heads to the newcomers.
"They can move and talk!" said Dean, leaning in close to examine a portrait of a 14th-century queen.
"Yes, and we can hear your comments very well too!" she snapped. "We're portraits!"
Dean backed off with a jolt, almost stepping on Hermione's foot. Neville reassured him that magical pictures were normal. "Good evening, your majesty," he said. "This is my friend, Dean Thomas. He was raised by Muggles so he's new to all this and wishes to apologise."
The portrait inclined her head. "Apology accepted."
Neville steered Dean further up the stairs with the other Gryffindors, whispering, "You just have to learn a little discretion with some of them and they're fine. But be careful what you talk about in the corridors in case one of them is listening."
Hermione nodded to herself. The event did remind her that Neville was definitely more confident than in her previous life and it was only certain females that made him nervous, Susan and Daphne for instance. But he'd been fine with McGonagall and Parvati and was getting used to Hermione herself too. And now even royalty did not phase him – well at least so long as it was a non-threatening portrait. There was hope for him after all.
She smiled knowingly at Harry by her side – though he was happily preoccupied with gazing around now that Hogwarts was fully illuminated and alive with life. However, someone was paying attention to her. She glanced back. Steff Daggard was bringing up the rear not ten paces behind, still puffing on her pipe and leering menace at Hermione. Anyone too close to Harry got the same inspection.
And when they finally settled into their dormitories that night, and Harry, worn out from a long day full of excitement, fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, Daggard was still there, standing in a dark corner, her eyes on the boy upon whom her own life depended.
But at the window, another figure, smaller, slighter, but just as vigilant, was carefully watching the intruder with suspicious eyes. Completely invisible and immaterial, Hermione Granger promised herself, Daggard, if you ever seriously harm Harry... I'll kill you. With that she swept away through stone and wood up to the owlery to check that Farrimond was settled in comfortably. Aculus, she already knew, was stationed in the Forbidden Forest – a home-from-home much like the raven's island origin.
Satisfied, Hermione took to her own bed, but it was some time before she finally fell into a troubled sleep.
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—oOo—
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Author's Notes
A couple of readers have mentioned in reviews that the kids sound a little old for their age. That could be true. When they were younger I was satisfied they sounded okay but I'm not sure how to make them sound eleven. I'm re-reading Philosopher's Stone to see if I can soak up their conversations and let it influence me. Justin is alright I think because I visualise him being raised in an upper-middle-class Muggle family where etiquette and manners are daily fare.
Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults — I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful. :)
– Hippothestrowl
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