Chapter 4
Half-blood
On the evening of August thirty-first, Hermione finished the last of her new books. She rubbed at tired eyes with ink-stained fingers. Over the last two weeks, she had memorized as many entries in, 'A Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi' as possible, as well as dozens of spells from 'The Standard Book of Spells, Year One'. Additionally, she now had three notebooks filled with dates of magical discoveries, factors that led to the first goblin rebellions, quotes on magical theory, facts about magical creatures, excerpts from the 'International Statute of Secrecy, and much more.
The illusion charm on her trunk continued to disguise the contents, but Hermione had not tried any more spells since receiving her warning letter from the ministry. Keeping the spell active for two weeks had been draining. According to one of her books, maintaining a spell while sleeping was supposed to be quite challenging. Her parents had both seen her open trunk showing typical muggle clothing, and Hermione knew she would be leaving the next morning, so, with a thought, she finally dismissed the spell.
A rush of relief ran through her body, and Hermione stood up a little straighter. The spell had been a mental and somewhat physical strain, but it was not the only thing weighing on Hermione. Many things she'd learned about the history of the Wizarding community were unpleasant. Wizards had gone to war with giants, goblins, centaurs, and each other. They denied certain magical species rights and brutally enslaved others like the 'house-elves'. On a more personal level, Hermione was nervous about how she would be treated by teachers and her peers due to her muggle-born status.
One of her books mentioned a wizard who went by the name, Voldemort. He had risen to power with violence and rhetoric that threatened muggles, muggle-borns, and those he called 'blood-traitors'. He had been defeated ten years ago, but his message had been appealing enough to the Wizarding community that he had almost taken over control. Her book made it clear that if it hadn't been for the Potters, Voldemort would likely have defeated those who stood against him.
"I could always go back to regular school if this year goes badly," Hermione thought, trying to calm her nerves.
She tidied up her room, locked her trunk, and made her way downstairs. She found her mother in the living room reading a romance novel.
"Hey mum," Hermione said, getting her attention.
She looked up from her book and after taking in Hermione's appearance, her mother commented, "You look exhausted dear."
Hermione gave a weak smile and nodded, "So, um, I'm supposed to catch the school train tomorrow. Can you drive me to London?"
"I can't, your father has been booking as many appointments as he can, ever since…"
She did not finish her thought, but Hermione knew what she meant.
"How am I going to get there then?" Hermione asked anxiously.
"We booked you a spot on a bus. It leaves tomorrow at six in the morning. Your father was supposed to tell you that yesterday," her mother said, looking slightly annoyed.
With a glance at the clock, Hermione saw it was already after nine.
"OK," Hermione said, stifling a yawn, "I think I'll go to bed soon then."
She turned to leave the room, but her mother stood up and swept Hermione into a tight hug. She whispered in Hermione's ear, "I love you, Hermione. I hope you like your new school."
As they pulled apart Hermione saw tears in her mother's eyes. The sight of it made Hermione begin to feel emotional as well. Suddenly she wished her mother knew the truth about her school.
Hermione gave her another hug, and said, "I love you too mum, I'll write a letter home after I get settled in."
"I'll miss you my sweet squirrel," her mother said, sniffing and wiping at her eyes.
The next morning, Hermione's alarm went off at five o'clock. She woke her father and he grumpily made a cup of tea while Hermione brought her trunk downstairs. After her father had some caffeine in his system, he helped Hermione load her trunk in the car. They drove to the bus terminal in silence. Her father had been working long hours recently, and he had been verbally lashing out at his wife and daughter with little provocation.
Striving to keep him from getting angry, Hermione resisted asking for any spending money, though she assumed most students at a private school would have some kind of financial support from their parents. Having no allowance would set her apart from the other children, and she knew being a muggle-born would already put more attention on her than she'd like.
Hermione had emptied her piggy bank to find four pounds worth of coins. That, and her nine sickles worth of Wizarding currency, would be all she'd have for the year. She wasn't even sure of the exchange rate for British pounds and Wizarding galleons.
When they reached the bus terminal, her father gave her a quick hug, and said, "You show them how smart you are, ok?"
Then he ruffled her hair, got back in the car, and drove off. Hermione waited to board the bus. Once her luggage was on board and she found her seat, she let herself shed a few tears. Tears brought on by sadness at leaving her family, tears brought on by fear of the unknown, and a few tears brought on by a father who had never been as kind as his daughter deserved.
By the time she arrived in London however, Hermione's eyes were dry and beginning to sparkle with excitement. The bus pulled up on the road next to King's Cross. She collected her trunk, and rolled it behind her, entering the station's largest building.
A clock on one wall told her she had less than an hour to find her train. That seemed like plenty of time until Hermione realized that the 'Hogwarts Express' was not listed on any of the departing boards. She checked the arrivals and did not see it there either.
A worker at the ticket counter gave her a strange look when she asked, and said there was no train with that name. Starting to fret, Hermione checked the note from Mr. Scott. It did not list a platform number, just that the train left at ten in the morning. The large clock now showed it was nine-fifteen, meaning she had fifteen minutes before she needed to check in.
As Hermione began to panic, a family of redheads walked past her. A moment after they passed, Hermione realized she recognized them. They were not wearing robes today, but it was the same family she'd seen that day in Diagon Alley. Hermione hurried to follow them as they pushed through the crowd. She followed their bright red hair until they stopped near a brick barrier between platforms nine and ten. The oldest of the boys was pinning a silver badge to his shirt.
A large black letter 'P' was emblazoned on the badge, and as Hermione approached the family, one of the twin brothers said, "Hey George, you reckon the P stands for Percy?"
"Of course not you idiot, P stands for Prefect, doesn't it, Ron?" The other twin asked, turning to his younger brother and winking.
Ron grinned and said, "I thought you two told me it stood for prick."
Their mother's handbag caught Ron in the ear, wiping the grin off his face, then she said, "None of that language, Percy, hurry and go first. Fred and George, you go after him."
The boy named Percy walked forward quickly, then a group of American tourists strolled by, blocking Hermione's view. By the time they had passed, Percy was nowhere to be seen. The twin boys, Fred and George, went next. They moved forward, wheeling their trunks behind them. One jostled the other, and they laughed and began to move faster. Hermione saw it quite clearly this time. They jogged directly through the brick barrier as if it were vapor, rather than solid material.
Feeling she understood the situation, Hermione took a deep breath and gently pushed past the boy and his mother. Walking quickly so she wouldn't hesitate, Hermione made her way towards the brick wall. She tried to ignore everything she knew about Newton's second law and sped up as she came close. Hermione managed to keep her eyes open as she walked through the wall. She expected to end up in a tunnel of some kind, instead, she emerged onto a spacious, outdoor train platform bustling with people, many of whom wore scarlet robes. A large circular sign hung above the wall to Hermione's left. It said 'Platform Nine and three-quarters'.
At the edge of the platform, an enormous steam engine train sat on the tracks. 'Hogwarts Express' was printed in large golden letters on the side of each train car. Hermione thought it looked a couple of centuries out of place. No sleek designs, like the trains Hermione, had just seen. There were no plastic sections or aluminum siding. In fact, it appeared to be made entirely of heavy iron, painted bright scarlet.
The short red-haired woman and her son, Ron, stepped through the wall behind Hermione and she stepped forward to make room.
Hermione walked up to one of the adults in scarlet robes, and asked, "Excuse me, sir, where do I check in?"
He asked her name, looked through a list on the clipboard she carried, and told her she could board the train and find a compartment.
Hermione went to the fourth car and climbed up the small ladder that led to the open door. Getting her trunk in behind her proved awkward, but she managed to wrestle it up the small ladder, and onto the train.
The first compartment she checked had a few extra seats, but the teenagers inside said they were saving spots for their friends. Not only that, they made it abundantly clear that first and second-year students rode in the back of the train.
Hermione made her way to the very last train car. Here, she found a compartment with only two people inside, and they looked to be her same age. One was a chubby-faced boy with dark brown hair, styled in a bowl-cut. He wore a striped t-shirt underneath a pair of overalls and held a struggling toad in his hands. The other boy in the compartment had shoulder-length, sandy blonde hair, and was already wearing his black school robes. He had, 'The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection' open on his lap, though he was staring absently out the window as Hermione slid open the compartment's door.
"Hi there," the boy with the toad said brightly, "you a first-year as well?"
"Of course she is," the boy in robes said.
He looked up at Hermione briefly, then he turned back to the window.
The boy with the toad smiled, saying, "I guess that makes sense, all the older kids kept telling me to go further back, even some second-years said I was too young to sit with them,"
He shrugged, then stood up to help Hermione load her trunk onto the luggage rack, only using one hand because the other was busy containing his dark greenish-brown toad.
"Thanks," Hermione said once her trunk was stored. She stood on a seat to allow her to open the trunk and retrieve her wand. She wasn't necessarily planning on performing any spells, but she felt better with the smooth wood in her hand. She also pulled out 'Hogwarts a History'. She had not had a chance to read any of this book, or any of the other books she bought for pleasure reading, studying her textbooks had kept her too busy.
"I'm Hermione Granger, and yes, this will be my first year at Hogwarts."
"I'm Neville Longbottom, and this is Trevor," he held the toad up and it let out a loud croak.
The other boy rolled his eyes at Neville, and said, "I'm Terry Boot. Sorry if I'm not very talkative during the ride, but I want to finish reading the first three chapters of this book. I've already studied a bit of our other textbooks. I'm hoping to be ahead of the curve for our first few lessons."
Neville looked extremely impressed at Terry's studying habits. Hermione, on the other hand, found herself more intrigued with his surname.
"Do you have a relative named Patricia Boot?" Hermione asked tentatively, thinking of the harsh woman.
Terry looked up from his book and said, "Yeah, she's my Aunt. How do you know her?"
Awkwardly, Hermione said, "Oh, I met her in Diagon Alley," then, in an attempt to change the subject, she asked, "Um, do either of you think you know which house you'll be sorted into? I'm hoping for either Griffindor or maybe Ravenclaw."
Neville blushed and murmured, "My gran thinks I'll end up in Hufflepuff, says I'm not brave enough to be in Gryffindor."
Terry turned his eyes back to his book, and said, "Probably Ravenclaw for me, but it could be Slytherin. A lot of my family has been in Slytherin."
A screeching whistle interrupted their conversation, announcing the train's departure. Hermione opened her book and began to read. After the train had been chugging along for about an hour, someone knocked on the door of their compartment. Neville opened it to reveal a woman with a trolley of food.
"Sandwiches, drinks, and sweets!" The woman called, and Hermione and Terry both set their books aside.
They each took a sandwich, a bottle of orange liquid, and a package labeled 'Cauldron Cakes'. Neville immediately opened his cauldron cakes and Hermione saw they were some kind of chocolaty treat with a cream filling. Hermione tried the bottle of what she assumed was juice. It tasted like liquid pumpkin pie. Strong notes of cinnamon, cardamom, nutmeg, and pumpkin.
Terry took one bite from his sandwich, then went back to reading.
Hermione ate half of her turkey and swiss cheese sandwich, drank half of the pumpkin juice, then set them aside with her cauldron cakes for later. Neville had pulled out a notebook, and Hermione saw he was drawing some kind of plant with a charcoal pencil. It had vines and leaves, but also many eyes with rectangular pupils. The detail and shading were quite impressive, so much so that it gave the eyes the illusion of movement, and the vines seemed to twist and grow.
"That's a very impressive drawing," Hermione commented, leaning forward to get a better look.
Neville blushed and tried to cover the page with both hands. This allowed his toad, Trevor, to escape his grasp, hopping under the seat opposite Neville. Neville dropped his notebook as he dove onto his belly to capture his pet. The notebook slid to the floor and fell open to reveal a couple more drawings of strange plants. They were beautifully drawn and both were labeled with an English and Latin name at the bottom of the page. Having gotten Trevor back in his hand, Neville grabbed the notebook and closed it.
"Were those all magical plants?" Hermione asked.
Neville nodded and said, "My uncle is an amateur Herbologist. He lets me draw the plants in his greenhouse when I visit him."
"I wish I could draw like that," Hermione said, "Best I can do is stick figures and a sun wearing sunglasses. My best friend Margaret is almost as good as you, but she… well, she would like your drawings."
Hermione had managed to stay so busy studying for Hogwarts, that she hadn't thought about Margaret very often since their falling out. She realized it still hurt terribly after mentioning her name, but they had been best friends for so long, it was difficult to get through a conversation without thinking about her, or mentioning her name. Hermione silently hoped the boys wouldn't ask any follow-up questions.
Unfortunately, Terry had been listening, and looked up to ask, "Where is she? This best friend of yours, is she getting on at Manchester station?"
"Um, no. She's not going to Hogwarts." Hermione told him, hoping he would let it go, but knowing how this conversation would likely end.
"Is she a squib?" Terry asked, grinning slightly as though he'd said something funny. He sat up straighter and set his book on the chair beside him.
This was not a word Hermione had encountered in her readings, "Maybe it's a term for home-schooled witches and wizards?" Hermione thought, feeling uncomfortable.
Outloud, she said, "No, she's a muggle," Then, she tried to exit the conversation by putting her nose back in 'Hogwarts a History'.
"I grew up in a Wizarding village, but one of my cousins lives in London, and he has lots of muggle friends. You a half-blood?" He asked the question conversationally, with no malice or disgust in his tone.
Hermione hesitated, she could lie and claim she was a half-blood, but she figured everyone would probably find out eventually, regardless of what she said.
Before her silence became conspicuous, the door to their compartment began to slide open. Hermione turned to look, grateful for the distraction, and she wasn't the only one who saw the opening door as an opportunity. Trevor gave a deafening croak. Neville, who was closest to the toad, threw his hands over his ears, wincing. Trevor leaped towards the now open door, soaring through the center of the compartment.
Without thinking, Hermione shouted, "Immobulus!" And jabbed the wand she still held in her right hand towards the airborne toad.
An icy blue-white flash filled the compartment for a brief moment. As it faded, they all saw Trevor, floating in the air, frozen in place at the zenith of his jump, legs stretched out behind him. Percy the Prefect, who had opened the door, stared dumbfounded at the amphibian suspended in the air before him. He looked to Hermione, who still held her wand out.
Hermione's heart started racing, she felt a sweat break out on the back of her neck, and wondered, "Am I allowed to do magic on the train? Am I going to be in trouble before we even arrive!"
"You're a first-year aren't you?" Percy asked, seeming confused.
"I am, and I'm so sorry! I didn't really mean to cast a spell, I just reacted when he jumped." Hermione said quickly, hoping apologizing would be enough to fix this mess she'd made.
Percy shook his head, "It's fine, you're not in trouble. Well... technically you're not supposed to do magic on the train, but how did you learn that spell? I don't think they even teach that until second year."
Hermione let out a sigh of relief, she wasn't in trouble, "I saw someone perform it once, and the incantation is referenced in the Quentin Trimble book."
Hermione gestured at the book on the seat next to Terry, who looked down at it, and back at her with eyebrows raised.
"But you haven't had any lessons," Percy said, scratching at his freckled cheek, a perplexed look on his face.
"Have you read this entire book already?" Terry asked, picking 'The Dark Forces' up, and gesturing with it.
Hermione nodded, feeling embarrassed at all of the attention. She noticed Neville eyeing his floating pet nervously, so she waved her wand, unfreezing the toad. Free of the spell, Trevor soared forward to land at Percy's feet. The older boy bent and scooped Trevor up, handing him back to Neville.
Still looking a bit perplexed, Percy shook his head and seemed to collect himself, "Ahem, I came to tell you and the other first years, we will be reaching our first stop in Manchester around two o'clock. This stop is to allow students who live in northern England to get on, do not leave the train. You may have to make room for other first years coming aboard. We will stop once more, near Edinburgh, a couple of hours before we arrive at Hogwarts. Please put on your school robes before we reach Edinburgh.
Percy said most of this short speech in one breath, then he pointed pretentiously at his chest and said, "If you have any questions, look for me or anyone else with a Prefect badge."
With one last curious glance at Hermione, Percy shut the door to their compartment. Not wanting to continue their previous discussion, Hermione stood up and climbed onto her seat to open her trunk. She grabbed her new black hat and a pair of robes.
Saying she needed to use the washroom, Hermione excused herself and left the compartment. Once in the corridor, she took a few deep breaths to calm herself down, then found the lavatory at the front of the passenger car. Once inside she removed her t-shirt and then pulled the robes over her head. The black material felt soft on her skin and Hermione decided she could get used to wearing the strange garment. She placed the pointy, stereotypical 'witches hat' on her head, and looked at herself in the mirror. The sight before her might have made her laugh a month ago. Black robes, a pointy black hat, and a magical wand. Hermione realized it wasn't so different from the Halloween costume Margaret wore last year, though Margaret's hat had been decorated with silver and blue stars. That thought did make her laugh.
"But this isn't a costume," Hermione whispered to her reflection, "This is real, I'm a witch," She thought of the spell she'd cast and Percy's reaction, "And I think I might be a damn good one."
Half-blood, muggle-born, mud-blood, they could call her whatever they liked. Hermione saw now she could excel at magic the way she had always excelled at school subjects.
"I can do this," she said, and then she smiled at herself. And for once, Hermione didn't notice her rather large front teeth or frizzy hair. In the mirror, she saw someone different. Not Hermione the nerd, or Hermione the friendless weirdo, but just Hermione. A girl with a twelfth-grade reading level, a magic wand, and a burning desire to prove herself in this new world.