A/N: Hello, this is a slightly lighter chapter; maybe because my current playlist is Abbey Road (those of you who haven't read my fics before should know that I am greatly influenced by the music I am listening to, from The Kinks to Coldplay, though I am determined not to use song titles as titles in this fic…) Anyway, cheers for the reviews, I really think my writing has improved since a year ago, I hope you do too.
- CHAPTER THREE -
The Sorting
Hermione heaved her trunk into the luggage rack and sat down beside the window. A few students rushed past the compartment door as they looked for empty seats, the train shuddering out of the station with great bursts of steam. She pulled Crookshanks out of her bag and laid him on the seat next to her where he remained asleep. She closed her eyes, listening to the hiss of the steam and the pistons as they turned the huge clunking wheels.
She heard her compartment door slide open and a small giggle. She opened her eyes immediately to find a tiny girl standing overshadowed by the doorway, chewing the ends of her ginger plaits.
"I'm very sorry," she whispered in a soft Irish accent, "But there aren't any more spaces on the carriage."
"Don't worry," Hermione gestured to the seats in front of her. "Come and sit down."
"Thank you," the girl tittered nervously, she tried desperately to push her trunk into the luggage rack; Hermione smiled at her kindly, raised her wand out from the pocket of her ruby robes and gave the trunk a sharp push into the rack.
The girl stared at her in awe, "First-year?" Hermione asked, the girl nodded, "Muggle-Born?" the girl looked confused, which answered the question. "Muggles – Non-magical people," she added.
A dawn of comprehension spread over the girl's face and she nodded shyly. "I'm sorry, I really don't know very much. I've got the books and everything, but I don't understand them, and I still get a fright every time I see magic."
Hermione smiled, "Don't worry, my parents are Muggles too, but you'll get the hang of it soon enough. Sorry, I don't even know your name…"
"Oh," the girl looked twisted her hands, "I'm Isolde O'Dolan."
"That's a lovely name, Isolde, Isolde," she repeated it a few times; she was going to have to start learning names sometime. "I'm, well Professor Granger." She shuddered, "I'm just as new as you; I haven't been inside those classrooms for six years."
"You went to Hogwarts?" Isolde was looking at her feet as they swung from her seat inches above the floor.
"Yes, this is all a bit weird for me." An old witch with the trolley pushed it past the compartment door. Isolde got up and looked out, terrified, she came back and sat down. "Don't you want anything?"
"No, it all looks strange."
"Yes," Hermione sighed, "but they're a lot more exciting than Muggle sweets and they taste better."
Isolde got up again and fumbled with a leather purse, Hermione watched her counting out the coins in her hands and passing them uncertainly to the lady, in return for one chocolate frog. She returned to her seat at carefully unwrapped it. The frog made a leap, and Isolde squealed, Hermione caught the frog as it bounced towards her.
"Here, hold it tightly; it'll stop wriggling once you start eating it." Isolde's eye widened in shock even more, if it was possible and gently nibbled on one of the frog's spindly toes. Hermione heard her breathe a sigh of relief, but she was not looking at her, she was looking at the card that lay disregarded in the wrappings. Harry's face beamed as he saw her and waved wildly, trying to get her attention as he did in all the photos she had of him. She picked it up, and smiled down at him, before turning the card over and reading the caption:
Harry Potter, the Chosen One.
Potter was the only person ever known to have survived the killing curse,
which was pointed at him when he was one-year-old
by Lord Voldemort, known as the greatest dark wizard of all time.
Potter fought Voldemort on six separate occasions,
and eventually defeated him. However his own life was lost.
All people today owe their lives to the young boy who dreamed
of defeating the Dark Lord, and playing Quidditch for England.
Hermione brushed away the tears that had began to well up in her eyes and chuckled. She suddenly became aware that Isolde was watching her. She held out her hand and looked at the card.
"Did you know him? He's pretty much the only wizard I know anything about," she turned the card over her hands.
"He was my best friend, I met him on this train thirteen years ago and we hardly left each other's sight. We – my friend Ron Weasley, went with him whenever he faced Voldemort."
Isolde looked at her for a few seconds and then said, "I'm so sorry. Did you love him?"
Hermione almost laughed, "he was the best friend I could ever have, and he had his fair share of admirers – though there was only one girl for him, but in the end he couldn't let her be bait." She thought of Ginny, her fierce spirit nearly broken, but how she had been the one to pull the rest of them to safety. She was the bravest, most loyal woman she'd ever known; she didn't deserve to have had her happiness ripped from her.
Isolde looked down at her feet again, and sat back down. "What house will I be in?" she blurted out.
Hermione dropped the card she had been flipping over in her fingers. "The Sorting Hat decides that."
Isolde was looking worried again, "Hat?"
"Yes, it's put on your head and it looks through your brain and decides which house to put you in. You shouldn't really stereotype, but generally the clever people go in Ravenclaw, the cunning in Slytherin, the brave in Gryffindor and everyone else in Hufflepuff."
"Well I'm not very clever, not cunning and definitely not brave! I'll probably be in Hufflepuff."
"Don't be too sure, the Hat can see things you don't know about, it can see the potential you have, and what is in your heart." Isolde was obviously anxious about the thought of going to wear a hat that would look in her brain and her heart.
The sky outside was darkening and Hermione could the outline of mountains growing in the distance. "You better get changed; we'll be there soon." She ran a check through her bags whilst Isolde changed; her creamy white skin splattered with freckles looked gaunt against her voluminous midnight black robes. She walked a few steps forward and tripped over her robes, falling flat on her face. Hermione Shrank them down to a better size and then straightened the sleeves of her red and gold robes, rather nicer than the Gryffindor Quidditch robes and pulled a long black cloak from her trunk.
She fastened it up to her neck and pulled her hair loose from it, ready to feel the cold fresh air on her face again after so long. The train drew up to Hogsmeade station and she lifted Crookshanks of his seat and into the crook of her arm, she held her bag in one hand and her wand in the other, which directed her trunk out of the luggage rack. She stepped onto the platform and saw the Thestral drawn carriages, this time seeing the Thestrals themselves. She helped Isolde take her trunk down and when she turned she found herself shadowed by a gigantic figure.
"Hermy!" Grawp bellowed as if she was very far away, every student on the platform jumped almost a foot in the air and turned to stare at him.
"Hello Grawp!" Hermione shouted up to his huge head, "You're taking the first-years are you?"
"Yep, firs' duty as Keeper of Keys an' Grounds." He stuck his finger into his enormous chest proudly. "Firs'-years! Firs'-years! With me!"
A small group of first-years began to collect around his tree-trunk size legs, whispering apprehensively. Grawp swooped his arms around them and lifted them out of the crowd of students. "See you at the feast!" Hermione called after him,
"Nah," replied Grawp, "Don't fit through door."
Hermione chuckled and climbed into a carriage, peering out of the window to catch a glimpse of the castle in the darkness. When she reached the Entrance Hall she found Professor Flitwick waiting for the first-years.
"Miss Granger," he gave her a low bow so his nose touched the floor, "Or rather Professor Granger. Brilliant to have you back, there's a place for you on the left of Minerva."
She walked into the Great Hall, the thousands of floating candles warming her face as she looked up at the starry ceiling. She took her seat next to Professor McGonagall, and waited whilst the other students and teachers came in. Her eyes glanced around the staff table, she must have been the only new teacher as she recognised all the other members of staff, and she looked to her left and saw that she was sitting next to Snape. She looked away as he lifted his hooked nose to look at her, she slid the ruby ring up and down her finger nervously, whilst Professor Flitwick entered; holding a scroll, a stool and the old battered Sorting Hat, leading a group of terrified looking first-years. He put the hat on the stool and stood up on a pedestal and waited as the Hat opened its brim to sing.
It's just a hat I hear you say,
You couldn't be more wrong;
My mind can look into your head,
It even wrote this song.
It is my job to make the choice
Of the house where you'll reside,
The four noble houses to choose from,
But yours I will decide.
It could be Ravenclaw for you,
If your head is clever,
And your mind sharp and engaged,
They'll support your endeavours.
It could be pure Slytherin,
If you are sly of mind,
Seeking power and great knowledge,
That's where you'll find your kind.
It could be Hufflepuff's house,
For those kind and careful,
Who with gentle minds and ways,
Would swallow treachery in one mouthful.
Or could it be in Gryffindor?
Where bravery is strong
If you are bold with watchful eyes,
This is where you'll do no wrong.
But which one will it be for you?
Sit down and try me on,
I'll have a look inside your head,
And decide where you belong.
Professor Flitwick uncurled the scroll and read in his squeaky voice the first name; "Alvey, Craig." A tall boy with a dripping nose stood forward and sat down on the stool and lifted the hat over his head.
"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted. Hermione clapped enthusiastically as the first new member of her house took his place at the long table. Eventually Hermione found herself gazing at the ten new members of her house including Isolde O'Dolan whilst Flitwick left the Great Hall with the hat and stool.
Professor McGonagall stood up, looking very powerful with her emerald green robes sparkling under the light of the candles, her hat ablaze with hundreds of shining stars. "I have a few things to say to you before dinner is served, but I will not keep you long as I know you have had a long day.
"Firstly I am pleased to announce that Mister Grawp commences his duties as Groundskeeper today, I hope you will join me in congratulating him in his absence." There was an explosion of clapping; Grawp was obviously popular with the students now. A huge dark shape passed over the windows and his beaming face appeared peering in.
"And I am also very pleased to welcome Professor Granger back to Hogwarts where she shall be teaching Transfiguration and serving as Head of Gryffindor House." Professor McGonagall turned to Hermione and began to clap; she blushed as the whole hall looked around at her and joined Professor McGonagall's applause.
"Now I think we should dine." Professor McGonagall sat back down and golden platters appeared all along the tables. The students immediately began to eat and around her teachers were talking. Snape leaned towards her and sneered as though he couldn't resist; "enjoyed being the centre of attention again Granger?"
Hermione ignored him and served herself some pork; he muttered something under his breath that she couldn't hear. She didn't exchange conversation with many of the teachers at dinner, they obviously all had their own friends and she could tell that she would have to work hard to get in with with her old teachers.
A/N: How was the song? ;) Hmm, not brilliant, but my talent is not poetry, nor is it prose but there you go. I hope everyone's having a good summer (or winter depending on which hemisphere you're in). I was in Edinburgh for the beginning of the festival, no JK unfortunately, but the city is mad, anyone who's been there around the Fringe will know what I mean. Whole place goes crazy…