Chapter Three: Surprises at Hogwarts

The Great Hall looked magnificent as always, with its flagged stone floor, velvety

starlit ceiling, and sea of candles floating through the air, illuminating the four long house

tables and the staff table, with lustrous gold plates and goblets waiting to be filled with

scrumptious food for the start-of-term feast.

Hermione took a seat across from Parvati Patil, who was listening to Lavender Brown

tell her about how she'd spent the summer in Paris. Uninterested, she looked near the staff

table; a door opened, and out came the new students. As they lined up in front of

everyone, the anxiety notable in their appearance and demeanor, Professor McGonagall

brought out a familiar three-legged wooden stool and placed the frayed, patched Sorting

Hat onto it. There was a silence, and all eyes fell onto the hat, and it began to sing its

song. The song changed every year, but the puzzled looks in some of the first years' faces

did not, Hermione noted. Once the Sorting Hat finished, applause echoed through the Great

Hall.

McGonagall then unrolled a large parchment scroll, as she did every year, and began

to call names from it. One by one, the students came forward and sat on the stool, waiting

for the Hat to yell the name of a House. As the line dwindled, Hermione remembered how

almost every year, she had sat near Harry and Ron and they had watched the sorting...

except for second year, when the pair had taken Arthur Weasley's enchanted car and

crashed it into the Whomping Willow. She almost smiled... almost. It was difficult to

believe that after all they'd been through, Ron and Harry could still be so immature. She

thought back to the train ride to school...

The day had started out pleasantly enough, with the traditional trip to Daigon Alley

and then the Hogwarts Express. The train ride had been uneventful, up until they started

talking about school. Hermione had received all Outstandings in her OWLS, and Harry had

done fairly well, too. Ron had done okay, but he seemed a bit jealous of the fact that the

other two, or probably more specifically Harry, had done better. Then came the subject of

summer homework. Ron already seemed a bit worked up, and when the assignment for

Potions was mentioned his eyes opened wide. He looked as though he was going to spasm,

but then glanced at her, and said, "You'll let me see yours, right, 'Mione?" "No," she had

snapped. "Ron, you need to be more responsible. How can you expect that every time... I

mean, look even Harry did his..."

That had been it, Harry. Ron was jealous. But jealous of what? They were best

friends, the three of them, right? Every time that Harry did something she commended him

for, though, Ron's ears seemed to go pink. She remembered listening to him before he had

made the Quidditch team himself, during matches when Harry, then the youngest member

of the team, would fly around gracefully, looking for the snitch, having a better winning

record than any other player at the time. She rembered how he'd acted during the

Triwizard Tournament in fourth year, how he hadn't believed Harry had not put his name in

and was jealous that he got to compete. She couldn't blame him for wanting to be noticed,

but he could act a little more mature about it. She didn't get as much attention as Harry,

and she never let it get to her.

Ron had looked at her in disgust, and thrown harsh words at her, after which she left

the compartment, so he would not be able to see the tears streaming down her cheeks.

She'd even run right into Draco Malfoy, who had looked at her with a trace of...

concern... He didn't even recognize her, or realize who she was. 'Amazing what a new

hairstyle can do,' she thought. Ron hadn't paid notice to it, and neither had Harry, but

Malfoy seemed to. He hadn't even given her the traditional insults or called her a mudblood

or anything...

At that moment, Dumbledore spoke -- taking everyone from their thoughts -- from

the front of the Great Hall, at the staff table. One of the chairs was empty, but all the staff

of former years seemed to be there.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. This might be an especially difficult time for

us, in light of all the bizarre happenings of late, but you will be safe within the walls of this

school. For that reason, no students are to go roaming about outside after sundown.

Hogsmeade visits may be suspended, as well. These measures have been put in place for

your own safety, and I trust you will comply with them." He paused and looked at Harry

and Ron. "Also, this might be more happy news to you all; we have decided to have a

Quidditch Homecoming Ball before the break. To lighten up and allow you all to relax, you

might say. More information will be forthcoming, from your heads of house. We also have

a new addition to our staff, who is unfortunately unable to join us right now, as she has

taken ill. However, I have no doubt that Defense Against the Dark Arts classes will start as

scheduled. Well, enough of that now, so thank you all, and let us enjoy the start-of-term

feast."

The plates filled themselves with mashed potatoes and turkey and all the delightfully

mouthwatering food one could imagine.

At the Slytherin table, Draco looked over at the Gryffindors. Halfway through dinner,

and he was bored already. Crabbe and Goyle's abilities with interesting conversation were

quite limited. All they were good for was standing around and cracking their knuckles. It

turned out they had been going from compartment to compartment looking for him on the

trip, but had somehow gotten distracted when they reached the one with Pansy and

Millicent. He scoffed. Then he wondered how they had spent the rest of the trip, and could

have kicked himself. What had happened? It was as though something had been pulling at

him to leave the compartment... and then...

Deciding to take his mind off things, he turned his sights to the Gryffindor table

again. He spotted Potter and the Weasel, but where was Granger? He searched the table

for her, and then... No, surely that could not be... He rubbed his eyes... But it was... The

girl who had been crying on the train... She was the same one he had taunted and called a

mudblood, and basically tried everything in his power to make her life miserable... She had

changed... changed so much... He wondered how things might be different if... But no, it

was too late, there was nothing he could do...

Author's Note

Hope you enjoyed the third chapter... No romance yet, but it'll get there... Anyways,

please R&R... or you could read the next chapter first : )

E. C. Miltoni