Chapter Thirteen: An Auspicious Start to School
As soon as she stepped onto Platform 9¾, Hermione saw Harry and the Weasleys. Both Harry and Ron were a full head taller than the sixth year Ginny, who clung happily onto Harry's arm, chattering away furiously to two older versions of Ron with identical jumpers. Gred and Forge had come to see the 'young 'uns' off.
They saw Hermione before the others. "Hey, Head Girl," one yelled. They both waved at her. Rolling her eyes, she dodged through the crowd to join them. "Hello, you lot! Holy Cricket, Ginny, you're brown! I thought Romania was supposed to be gloomy! Harry, Ron, did you have a good holidays?"
"It is-"
"Alright, we saw a few local quidditch matches, would you believe they play by different rules?"
"-those two decided I could do with a suntan sundae…"
"A what?" That was something Hermione had never heard of.
Ginny grimaced good naturedly. "A suntan sundae. The latest crazy idea from the twins. I've only just gotten back to a reasonable colour. I spent most of the holidays looking like a lobster."
"Well, you were the one who was complaining you weren't going to get a tan!"
"We decided to help you out a bit!"
"See? Brothers, can't train 'em, never know what to do with 'em."
"Ginny, that was uncalled for. Hello, Hermione dear, how were your holidays?" Hermione smiled at Mrs Weasley and accepted a quick hug.
"Not too bad," she replied.
"C'mon you three, let's grab a carriage to ourselves," Harry interrupted, steering both girlfriend and two closest friends towards the train. Molly Weasley demanded another last minute hug from each of them before one of the twins pressed a small wrapped parcel into Ron's hands. "Don't forget this, little brother."
"No. I won't." He shoved it quickly into his pocket and nodded as he followed the others onto the cherry red express.
About fifteen or twenty minutes later, Ron was patting Hermione's arm solicitously and giving her sympathetic looks. Hermione privately thought he looked more like he'd eaten too many chocolate frogs than anything else, but she kept that to herself.
She'd decided to tell her friends most of the story of her holidays. Ginny and Ron, who had grown up in a magical household, wore identical expressions of horror when she explained why she'd ended up at Hogwarts. Harry looked understanding. Choosing her words with care, Hermione left out nearly all of the Snapeish detail from her story. "He brought me to school," she said, shrugging, "He disarmed my father when Professor Dumbledore brought my parents to Hogwarts, and he threatened him a bit. Professor McGonagall fussed over me, you know what she's like-"
"Ah, no, but I'm not exactly her favourite person." Ron, sheepishly.
"And that's about it. My stuff's already all there, of course, but I've always felt the train ride to be the best part of the start of the year, except the Sorting of course, and getting our timetables, and really I wanted to tell you three in private. I don't want anyone else to know. It's none of their business."
"I want you to know we're here for you, Mione, if you need anyone to talk to. That was a dreadful thing to happen! I can't believe your parents did that! Doesn't it hurt?"
She rolled her eyes. "Of course it does! But if you can't change something, you have to move forward and adapt to it." Snape had said that. "I don't know if I'll ever not feel regretful about it, since I still love them and I kind of hope they still love me, somehow, but there's nothing I can do about it so going to pieces any more would be ridiculous."
"How could they be so bloody stupid?"
"I can see their point of view, Ron. I'm okay with it. Honest."
"Well, if you're sure that you're alright…"
"Positive. C'mon, I don't want to miss the first glimpse of the school."
Hermione got up and looked out the window. Thoughtfully, she decided that that had gone rather well. She felt almost awkward talking to her friends now, at least knowing how much she hadn't told them. A wistful smile crossed her face. While she was looking forward to classes starting again, these last holidays had been a lot more fun than she had ever thought. They just about tied with those before her third year, when she'd gone to France with her parents. Maybe they were even better, since she hadn't had the Luggage then.
That was the one other major thing that she hadn't mentioned. Of course, it was going to come out soon, but how could you tell someone you owned a homicidal suitcase? And one with such a sterling reputation? Hermione would have been surprised that Dumbledore didn't seem to mind the Luggage being at Hogwarts, when it always seemed to cause so much trouble, if she hadn't heard him say he knew the trunk himself. And she'd seen it treat him with grudging respect. Obviously, in the hierarchy of travelling accessories, school Headmasters ranked higher than caretakers, lower than potions professors, much higher than deputy headmistresses, and about the same as gamekeepers. And all of them ranked much lower than a seventh year student. Even she came in second to a six-week-old kitten.
It wasn't something one could start to explain in the last few minutes of a train journey, that was for certain. The complicated nature of the luggage's relations would just have to wait until she saw how the three Gryffindors fitted into the spectrum.
"Hermione, look! There it is!" Hermione looked along the length of Ginny's finger and there, sure enough, was Hogwarts coming right around the corner. A warm feeling started in the pit of her stomach and suffused right through her.
In a dreamy voice, she said "I can't believe this is our last year here. This is our last trip to school…"
"Yeah, ours." Ron rolled his eyes. "You can take the train every year once you're a teacher."
"Who said I was going to become a teacher?"
"Who didn't? Mione, you're born to be a teacher. Everyone knows that you're after McGonagall's job."
"Oh, really, Ron," Hermione sighed. She was really rather relieved when they had to board the carriages to take them the last part of the way to school.
But she was nervous by the time they walked into the Great Hall. From the carriages to the castle, she had seen no suitcase. Students milled around like black robed locusts, but nowhere among them lurked a trunk with hairy little feet.
"Who are you looking for?" Harry asked in a low voice.
Hermione forced a false smile onto her face. "Oh, no-one." Well, that was technically true.
"Really?"
"Really, I'm not looking for anyone."
The Sorting Ceremony passed her in a daze. Hermione's attention only forgot the absent, bloodthirsty Luggage when Dumbledore rose to his feet and gestured for silence.
There was not a pair of eyes in the Hall that did not fall upon his face.
"Once again, we are here to start another year at Hogwarts," he began, smiling broadly, "and once again I commend you for arranging to arrive here all at once. Most remarkable. Quite convenient of you, such a lovely gesture, I'm really glad I thought of it. Makes my job so much easier."
"Balmy, I tell you," muttered Ron.
"Every year, two seventh year students are selected to lead the school, both as an example to lower years and as people any student can turn to. I am happy to say that this year, we have selected Miss Hermione Granger, of Gryffindor House, and Mr Ronald Weasley, also of Gryffindor, as Head Girl and Boy. Miss Granger, Mr Weasley, if you would come to the front to receive your badges? Thank you."
"I think we have a problem," Hermione whispered, looking down. She'd jumped up when Dumbledore made the announcement. Ron had fainted.
"Well, poke him!" Dean Thomas suggested.
In desperation, Hermione did. Hard. Ron didn't move.
"Think of something!"
"I just did!"
"Something else!"
"Tip a glass of water over him," Ginny offered, and the pitcher was handed down the table. Not wanting to waste time, Hermione upended the entire pitcher. Ron woke up spluttering.
"Is there something wrong?" Dumbledore enquired in an innocent voice.
"No, everything's fine," Hermione called out, and half-dragged Ron out of his seat. "C'mon, don't make me look like an idiot! We have to go up to Dumbledore!"
"Why?"
"To get our badges, silly! Do you think he's going to throw them over here?"
"It'd be nice. Mione, why'd you have to drown me?" Ron looked at her pathetically.
"You fainted, did you think it was your B.O.?"
"You know, the queerest thing happened to me this morning," Ron told her almost a week later as they walked to breakfast. Their rooms were no longer in Gryffindor tower, but in the same section of the school that held the rooms of those teachers who were not House Heads.
"Really, what?"
"It's going to sound stupid…"
"C'mon, tell me."
"I opened the door and there was this…this suitcase sitting outside my door. Only it was standing. It had feet."
"Where did it go?" Hermione stopped in mid-step and turned on Ron, staring up at him. "What did it do? Did it say anything?"
"Hermione, suitcases don't say anything," he said puzzledly. Gently, as if he weren't exactly sure of her sanity.
"This one does," she replied grimly. "What did it do? It didn't hurt you, did it?"
"No, of course not! It was just a suitcase, Mione, nothing else."
She laughed, a shade wryly. "Um, not exactly. Go on."
"It stood there. I took a step forward, I wanted to see if it had a name on it or something, and its lid jerked. It made this funny vicious sound, like its lock was grating. I went back inside and shut the door. When I opened it again a couple of minutes later, the suitcase was gone. It was just bloody weird. I wonder who the thing belongs to, anyway?"
"I don't," said Hermione.
"What?"
"Wonder, that is."
"Mione, sometimes you're pretty weird too."
"Thank you for noticing."
They walked the rest of the way in silence.
During breakfast Ron kept giving her funny looks. "There's something she's not telling me," he confided to Harry in a low whisper. His best friend shrugged. "Maybe she's just out of sorts," he whispered back. "You know Mione. The NEWTs are at the end of the year, that's like next week according to her!"
"Yeah, it's just…"
"Don't let it get to you, she's probably just distracted."
Hermione, who had heard their entire conversation, couldn't agree more.
She spent two slices of toast and a glass of orange juice trying to catch Snape's eye. But he was involved in a furious disagreement with Professor McGonagall over something to do with House quidditch teams, and didn't notice. When he stormed out of the Hall in exasperation, with an exaggerated flourish of robes, she assumed McGonagall must have won a point. But it gave her a chance to speak to him, so Hermione quickly jumped up and pushed her plate back.
"I have to get to the library, I've just remembered something I have to put in my Tranfigurations essay!"
"Ugh, essays," Ron said, and made a face. "Don't get too involved, we've got Charms first, remember."
"I won't forget," Hermione promised, and darted from the room.
Ron looked helplessly at Harry. "I'm telling you, there's something she's not telling me."
"Yes, like the page numbers and the quotes she's going to put in her essay," Ginny interrupted. "Stop being such an idiot, Ron, and pass the marmalade."
Hermione was completely out of breath by the time she spied the Potions Professor at the other end of the hallway. Why did he have to have such long legs, anyway? It was almost impossible to catch up with him!
"Professor Snape! Can I talk to you a moment?"
He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. Like he wanted nothing more than to deduct points from the Head Girl, he crossed his arms and waited.
"Yes?"
"Professor." Hermione held up a hand while she got her breath back.
Snape raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Running in the corridor, Miss Granger? Tut, tut. Hardly appropriate behaviour for the Head Girl…you're supposed to be setting an example for the younger students."
"I am!"
"Really?"
"Well, I didn't say it was a good one." Hermione then looked worried. "Professor, I haven't seen the luggage since school started."
"Maybe it's become shy. Though the likelihood of that…"
"According to Ron, it threatened him this morning."
"What?"
"It ambushed outside his room and gnashed its lock at him. I somehow get the feeling that Ron isn't very high on its list of favourite people, Professor."
"Perhaps it has a grudge against him… Once again, I find I cannot fault your case's judgement, Miss Granger. An excellent judge of character. Quite a beautiful intellect. Do you think it would consider taking seventh year Potions? I could assign it to work with Mr Weasley."
"Do that and I'll switch all the labels around on the ingredients in your storeroom!" Hermione threatened.
"You forget the door is locked and I have the only key."
"You forget I have the Luggage."
"Not at the moment, though."
"I had wondered if it might be at Hagrid's, but-"
"It's not?"
She shook her head miserably. "I went to see him two nights ago and he said he hasn't seen it since the first day back, either."
"I – Miss Granger, running in the corridor is supposed to be beneath you. Ten points from Gryffindor!"
Hermione didn't need to turn around to sense McGonagall's disapproval. "Severus, you can't go around taking points from the Head Girl for running! That's ridiculous. She probably has a class to go to. It would be much worse if she were late!"
"Why, is she required to actually teach the class?" Snape sneered coldly. "I most certainly can take points from the Head Girl, and I already have. Rest assured, Minerva, if I see the Head Boy running in the hallways I will deduct a similar amount of points from him as well!" He stalked off.
McGonagall lay a light hand on Hermione's shoulder and glared after Snape's retreating back. "Never mind him, Miss Granger. He's just in a nasty mood because I've booked the quidditch field for the Gryffindor practice match tonight and he wanted it for his House. Sometimes I can't stand that man."
"Oh, I detest him on all occasions," Hermione said solemnly.
Snape's back gave a snort of quiet laughter.
Despite still not knowing the whereabouts of the maddening trunk, Hermione felt better than she had all day. It was with a much lighter heart that she set off for the library.
However, her good mood would not last much longer. Luggage, without the Mistress' knowledge, had made other plans.
As soon as she stepped onto Platform 9¾, Hermione saw Harry and the Weasleys. Both Harry and Ron were a full head taller than the sixth year Ginny, who clung happily onto Harry's arm, chattering away furiously to two older versions of Ron with identical jumpers. Gred and Forge had come to see the 'young 'uns' off.
They saw Hermione before the others. "Hey, Head Girl," one yelled. They both waved at her. Rolling her eyes, she dodged through the crowd to join them. "Hello, you lot! Holy Cricket, Ginny, you're brown! I thought Romania was supposed to be gloomy! Harry, Ron, did you have a good holidays?"
"It is-"
"Alright, we saw a few local quidditch matches, would you believe they play by different rules?"
"-those two decided I could do with a suntan sundae…"
"A what?" That was something Hermione had never heard of.
Ginny grimaced good naturedly. "A suntan sundae. The latest crazy idea from the twins. I've only just gotten back to a reasonable colour. I spent most of the holidays looking like a lobster."
"Well, you were the one who was complaining you weren't going to get a tan!"
"We decided to help you out a bit!"
"See? Brothers, can't train 'em, never know what to do with 'em."
"Ginny, that was uncalled for. Hello, Hermione dear, how were your holidays?" Hermione smiled at Mrs Weasley and accepted a quick hug.
"Not too bad," she replied.
"C'mon you three, let's grab a carriage to ourselves," Harry interrupted, steering both girlfriend and two closest friends towards the train. Molly Weasley demanded another last minute hug from each of them before one of the twins pressed a small wrapped parcel into Ron's hands. "Don't forget this, little brother."
"No. I won't." He shoved it quickly into his pocket and nodded as he followed the others onto the cherry red express.
About fifteen or twenty minutes later, Ron was patting Hermione's arm solicitously and giving her sympathetic looks. Hermione privately thought he looked more like he'd eaten too many chocolate frogs than anything else, but she kept that to herself.
She'd decided to tell her friends most of the story of her holidays. Ginny and Ron, who had grown up in a magical household, wore identical expressions of horror when she explained why she'd ended up at Hogwarts. Harry looked understanding. Choosing her words with care, Hermione left out nearly all of the Snapeish detail from her story. "He brought me to school," she said, shrugging, "He disarmed my father when Professor Dumbledore brought my parents to Hogwarts, and he threatened him a bit. Professor McGonagall fussed over me, you know what she's like-"
"Ah, no, but I'm not exactly her favourite person." Ron, sheepishly.
"And that's about it. My stuff's already all there, of course, but I've always felt the train ride to be the best part of the start of the year, except the Sorting of course, and getting our timetables, and really I wanted to tell you three in private. I don't want anyone else to know. It's none of their business."
"I want you to know we're here for you, Mione, if you need anyone to talk to. That was a dreadful thing to happen! I can't believe your parents did that! Doesn't it hurt?"
She rolled her eyes. "Of course it does! But if you can't change something, you have to move forward and adapt to it." Snape had said that. "I don't know if I'll ever not feel regretful about it, since I still love them and I kind of hope they still love me, somehow, but there's nothing I can do about it so going to pieces any more would be ridiculous."
"How could they be so bloody stupid?"
"I can see their point of view, Ron. I'm okay with it. Honest."
"Well, if you're sure that you're alright…"
"Positive. C'mon, I don't want to miss the first glimpse of the school."
Hermione got up and looked out the window. Thoughtfully, she decided that that had gone rather well. She felt almost awkward talking to her friends now, at least knowing how much she hadn't told them. A wistful smile crossed her face. While she was looking forward to classes starting again, these last holidays had been a lot more fun than she had ever thought. They just about tied with those before her third year, when she'd gone to France with her parents. Maybe they were even better, since she hadn't had the Luggage then.
That was the one other major thing that she hadn't mentioned. Of course, it was going to come out soon, but how could you tell someone you owned a homicidal suitcase? And one with such a sterling reputation? Hermione would have been surprised that Dumbledore didn't seem to mind the Luggage being at Hogwarts, when it always seemed to cause so much trouble, if she hadn't heard him say he knew the trunk himself. And she'd seen it treat him with grudging respect. Obviously, in the hierarchy of travelling accessories, school Headmasters ranked higher than caretakers, lower than potions professors, much higher than deputy headmistresses, and about the same as gamekeepers. And all of them ranked much lower than a seventh year student. Even she came in second to a six-week-old kitten.
It wasn't something one could start to explain in the last few minutes of a train journey, that was for certain. The complicated nature of the luggage's relations would just have to wait until she saw how the three Gryffindors fitted into the spectrum.
"Hermione, look! There it is!" Hermione looked along the length of Ginny's finger and there, sure enough, was Hogwarts coming right around the corner. A warm feeling started in the pit of her stomach and suffused right through her.
In a dreamy voice, she said "I can't believe this is our last year here. This is our last trip to school…"
"Yeah, ours." Ron rolled his eyes. "You can take the train every year once you're a teacher."
"Who said I was going to become a teacher?"
"Who didn't? Mione, you're born to be a teacher. Everyone knows that you're after McGonagall's job."
"Oh, really, Ron," Hermione sighed. She was really rather relieved when they had to board the carriages to take them the last part of the way to school.
But she was nervous by the time they walked into the Great Hall. From the carriages to the castle, she had seen no suitcase. Students milled around like black robed locusts, but nowhere among them lurked a trunk with hairy little feet.
"Who are you looking for?" Harry asked in a low voice.
Hermione forced a false smile onto her face. "Oh, no-one." Well, that was technically true.
"Really?"
"Really, I'm not looking for anyone."
The Sorting Ceremony passed her in a daze. Hermione's attention only forgot the absent, bloodthirsty Luggage when Dumbledore rose to his feet and gestured for silence.
There was not a pair of eyes in the Hall that did not fall upon his face.
"Once again, we are here to start another year at Hogwarts," he began, smiling broadly, "and once again I commend you for arranging to arrive here all at once. Most remarkable. Quite convenient of you, such a lovely gesture, I'm really glad I thought of it. Makes my job so much easier."
"Balmy, I tell you," muttered Ron.
"Every year, two seventh year students are selected to lead the school, both as an example to lower years and as people any student can turn to. I am happy to say that this year, we have selected Miss Hermione Granger, of Gryffindor House, and Mr Ronald Weasley, also of Gryffindor, as Head Girl and Boy. Miss Granger, Mr Weasley, if you would come to the front to receive your badges? Thank you."
"I think we have a problem," Hermione whispered, looking down. She'd jumped up when Dumbledore made the announcement. Ron had fainted.
"Well, poke him!" Dean Thomas suggested.
In desperation, Hermione did. Hard. Ron didn't move.
"Think of something!"
"I just did!"
"Something else!"
"Tip a glass of water over him," Ginny offered, and the pitcher was handed down the table. Not wanting to waste time, Hermione upended the entire pitcher. Ron woke up spluttering.
"Is there something wrong?" Dumbledore enquired in an innocent voice.
"No, everything's fine," Hermione called out, and half-dragged Ron out of his seat. "C'mon, don't make me look like an idiot! We have to go up to Dumbledore!"
"Why?"
"To get our badges, silly! Do you think he's going to throw them over here?"
"It'd be nice. Mione, why'd you have to drown me?" Ron looked at her pathetically.
"You fainted, did you think it was your B.O.?"
"You know, the queerest thing happened to me this morning," Ron told her almost a week later as they walked to breakfast. Their rooms were no longer in Gryffindor tower, but in the same section of the school that held the rooms of those teachers who were not House Heads.
"Really, what?"
"It's going to sound stupid…"
"C'mon, tell me."
"I opened the door and there was this…this suitcase sitting outside my door. Only it was standing. It had feet."
"Where did it go?" Hermione stopped in mid-step and turned on Ron, staring up at him. "What did it do? Did it say anything?"
"Hermione, suitcases don't say anything," he said puzzledly. Gently, as if he weren't exactly sure of her sanity.
"This one does," she replied grimly. "What did it do? It didn't hurt you, did it?"
"No, of course not! It was just a suitcase, Mione, nothing else."
She laughed, a shade wryly. "Um, not exactly. Go on."
"It stood there. I took a step forward, I wanted to see if it had a name on it or something, and its lid jerked. It made this funny vicious sound, like its lock was grating. I went back inside and shut the door. When I opened it again a couple of minutes later, the suitcase was gone. It was just bloody weird. I wonder who the thing belongs to, anyway?"
"I don't," said Hermione.
"What?"
"Wonder, that is."
"Mione, sometimes you're pretty weird too."
"Thank you for noticing."
They walked the rest of the way in silence.
During breakfast Ron kept giving her funny looks. "There's something she's not telling me," he confided to Harry in a low whisper. His best friend shrugged. "Maybe she's just out of sorts," he whispered back. "You know Mione. The NEWTs are at the end of the year, that's like next week according to her!"
"Yeah, it's just…"
"Don't let it get to you, she's probably just distracted."
Hermione, who had heard their entire conversation, couldn't agree more.
She spent two slices of toast and a glass of orange juice trying to catch Snape's eye. But he was involved in a furious disagreement with Professor McGonagall over something to do with House quidditch teams, and didn't notice. When he stormed out of the Hall in exasperation, with an exaggerated flourish of robes, she assumed McGonagall must have won a point. But it gave her a chance to speak to him, so Hermione quickly jumped up and pushed her plate back.
"I have to get to the library, I've just remembered something I have to put in my Tranfigurations essay!"
"Ugh, essays," Ron said, and made a face. "Don't get too involved, we've got Charms first, remember."
"I won't forget," Hermione promised, and darted from the room.
Ron looked helplessly at Harry. "I'm telling you, there's something she's not telling me."
"Yes, like the page numbers and the quotes she's going to put in her essay," Ginny interrupted. "Stop being such an idiot, Ron, and pass the marmalade."
Hermione was completely out of breath by the time she spied the Potions Professor at the other end of the hallway. Why did he have to have such long legs, anyway? It was almost impossible to catch up with him!
"Professor Snape! Can I talk to you a moment?"
He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. Like he wanted nothing more than to deduct points from the Head Girl, he crossed his arms and waited.
"Yes?"
"Professor." Hermione held up a hand while she got her breath back.
Snape raised a sardonic eyebrow. "Running in the corridor, Miss Granger? Tut, tut. Hardly appropriate behaviour for the Head Girl…you're supposed to be setting an example for the younger students."
"I am!"
"Really?"
"Well, I didn't say it was a good one." Hermione then looked worried. "Professor, I haven't seen the luggage since school started."
"Maybe it's become shy. Though the likelihood of that…"
"According to Ron, it threatened him this morning."
"What?"
"It ambushed outside his room and gnashed its lock at him. I somehow get the feeling that Ron isn't very high on its list of favourite people, Professor."
"Perhaps it has a grudge against him… Once again, I find I cannot fault your case's judgement, Miss Granger. An excellent judge of character. Quite a beautiful intellect. Do you think it would consider taking seventh year Potions? I could assign it to work with Mr Weasley."
"Do that and I'll switch all the labels around on the ingredients in your storeroom!" Hermione threatened.
"You forget the door is locked and I have the only key."
"You forget I have the Luggage."
"Not at the moment, though."
"I had wondered if it might be at Hagrid's, but-"
"It's not?"
She shook her head miserably. "I went to see him two nights ago and he said he hasn't seen it since the first day back, either."
"I – Miss Granger, running in the corridor is supposed to be beneath you. Ten points from Gryffindor!"
Hermione didn't need to turn around to sense McGonagall's disapproval. "Severus, you can't go around taking points from the Head Girl for running! That's ridiculous. She probably has a class to go to. It would be much worse if she were late!"
"Why, is she required to actually teach the class?" Snape sneered coldly. "I most certainly can take points from the Head Girl, and I already have. Rest assured, Minerva, if I see the Head Boy running in the hallways I will deduct a similar amount of points from him as well!" He stalked off.
McGonagall lay a light hand on Hermione's shoulder and glared after Snape's retreating back. "Never mind him, Miss Granger. He's just in a nasty mood because I've booked the quidditch field for the Gryffindor practice match tonight and he wanted it for his House. Sometimes I can't stand that man."
"Oh, I detest him on all occasions," Hermione said solemnly.
Snape's back gave a snort of quiet laughter.
Despite still not knowing the whereabouts of the maddening trunk, Hermione felt better than she had all day. It was with a much lighter heart that she set off for the library.
However, her good mood would not last much longer. Luggage, without the Mistress' knowledge, had made other plans.