Harry has lined up all his ducks in a row, he's laid the foundations, he's put all his shit in one sock—he's prepared. Now let's send Harry and Hermione to Hogwarts.

Just as in "Daphne's Letter from the Future," in this story, Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis are friends; and Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode are first cousins.

Chapter 10
Not the Same Train Trip

Ten minutes later
Sunday, 1st September, 8:40 a.m.

Harry was amazed that none of the Grangers, not even Hermione, remarked about what he had done with his hair this morning.

The Grangers plus Harry were in Dan Granger's big BMW sedan, beginning the slog through traffic from Crawley (located a bit north of the English Channel and definitely south of London) to King's Cross Station (in northwest London). The children's school trunks were in the boot; the children themselves were in the back seat, with Hedwig's empty cage resting on Harry's lap. The mood amongst the four people was happy and excited.

Which was quite different from Harry's previous lifetime, when Harry made his first trip to King's Cross Station in the Dursley car, with angry Vernon Dursley driving. During that trip, not a word had been spoken during the drive.

Once the Grangers-plus got near King's Cross Station, parking was a nightmare—Lily's first-year diary had quoted her father making the same complaint. Yet by 10:17, two dentists and two children were standing on the platform for tracks nine and ten.

Emma asked, "So how do you get to...?" She knew better than to finish that sentence aloud.

Harry pointed to a solid-metal barrier between the tracks. "You run into that barrier. If you're magical, Mum wrote that it's not solid, it feels like cobwebs on your skin."

Hermione looked torn. "Is it okay if we go through now? I want to board the train with plenty of time to spare—but Mum and Dad, I don't want you to think I'm eager to get away from you."

Harry said, "Why don't I go first, since I already sort-of know what the process is? If you don't follow me within a minute, I'll come back for you."

Harry passed through the magical barrier with no problem, then suddenly he saw the scarlet steam locomotive and its carriages. Few magicals were on Platform 9-3/4 at the moment, since the time now was forty-two minutes before the train would leave.

Hermione and her trunk came through the barrier about half a minute later. She took one look at the Hogwarts Express and said, "Brilliant." She looked relieved.

Harry pulled Hermione away from where she and her trunk just had come through—on this side, the exit to the Muggle world was a wrought-iron archway with the words "Platform Nine and Three-Quarters" on top. But instead of pulling Hermione and her trunk towards the train, Harry pulled Hermione away from the train.

"Hermione," Harry said, "before we are near other magical kids, and before we get to Hogwarts, I need to tell you two things."

A second later

Harry pulled out his elder-wood-and-thestral-heartstring wand and cast "Muffliato," intending for himself and for Hermione to not be overheard if anyone tried to listen in.

Also, Harry cast this particular spell to make a point.

Hermione gasped. "What was that spell you cast?"

"Muffliato. It's a sixth-year spell—"

The question-bombing began: "Is this a spell in the diaries? How many spells do you already know? Why haven't you taught me this?"

"Hermione," he said. She quieted, though her face still was stormy.

Harry continued, "Two things I have to tell you now. First of all, from time to time I'll know things—things that it is impossible that I know, yet I know them. It'll drive you mad, and you'll be desperate to know how I know X. But don't ask. And especially don't ask when anyone else can hear you asking."

"Harry, why are you keeping secrets from me? I thought we were better friends than that."

"I promise, I'll tell you everything on your sixteenth birthday, 19th September 1995. I'll even give you proof."

Hermione asked, "Did my parents tell—?"

"Your parents have never told me your birthday. Your birthday is something else that I can't know, yet I know it."

Hermione looked confused now. "I don't know what to say."

Harry said, "I've one other thing to say to you here, then we'll board the train. It's something else that no way can I know this, yet I do—

"The headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. He left me on the Dursleys' doorstep, instead of giving me to any of the magical people whom my parents wanted me to be raised by. He appointed himself my magical guardian, but has taught me nothing. However, over half a million pounds has gone missing from the Potter family vault, and I think he took it, but there is no proof yet. Anyway, rant over.

"Dumbledore isn't kind and he isn't caring, but he's good at pretending he is. Everyone in the world, whether it's Professor Snape or a Muggle-born firstie from Crawley, is just a chess piece to him. He feels no shame in moving you about the board to further whatever secret scheme he has. As soon as he realises that you and I are close friends, he'll try to get you working against me—"

"Harry, I'd never betray you!" Hermione huffed. "Impossible!"

"Oh, he'll never ask you to walk up and stab me in the back. He's too subtle for such. No, he'll say 'Poor Harry is'—too stupid, too immature, too distraught, too something—'and you must do X behind his back for his own good.' That's how you'll know he's trying to catch you in his web: the words 'It's for Harry's own good' and 'We must keep this a secret from Harry.' "

Hermione looked unhappy now. "You don't believe at all that Professor Dumbledore wants what's best for you?"

"No, and there's no doubt in my mind. If he were truly good and kind, he wouldn't have left me with the Dursleys. As Chief Warlock, he would've ordered that Sirius Black be given a trial back in 1981."

"I need to think about what you said."

"One final thing I need to tell you. If Dumbledore asks you a question about me, tell him firmly, 'Go ask Harry himself' or 'Go ask a professor.' Don't answer Dumbledore's intrusive question. Another nasty quirk of his is that he's greedy to know other people's secrets—but the secrets he knows, he never tells.

"Now, let's go board the train."

As Harry dispelled the Muffle Charm, Hermione smacked him on the arm. "Will you at least tell me why, for the first time since I've known you, you're wearing your hair in a pompadour?"

Harry grinned mischievously at his very best friend in two lifetimes. "Remember how freaked out you got when you realised that I didn't have a forehead scar? I want several hundred people to also feel your confusion."

As Harry and Hermione (and their freight) moved towards the train, they moved close to two Aurors. The tall, dark-skinned man in the Auror regular red robes was Kingsley Shacklebolt (though Harry pretended not to know this). The young woman standing next to Shacklebolt had grey robes, an Auror's blue wand—and eyeball-stomping pink hair.

Harry asked her with a straight face, "Pardon me, are you Auror Cadet Nymph—Nympho—Nympho-dora Tanks?"

Shacklebolt chuckled as the now-red-haired woman snarled, "The name is Nymphadora—but don't call me that, either! Call me 'Tonks'! With an 'o'! Now, what's your business with me, first-year?"

"I'm Harry Potter. My grandmother was Dorea Black. Your mum is—she's a constellation, she's a constellation—"

"Andromeda. My mum is Andromeda Black Tonks. So you and her are related. Mum is a Healer at Saint Mungo's; my dad is a law-wizard."

"What does that mean? When someone lies in court, does he hit them with a spell?"

"No, you goofball! It means my father is a solicitor and barrister for legal stuff in the magical world."

"Brilliant! I want to hire your dad."

"Why? Why would an eleven-year-old need a law-wizard?"

Harry could not speak his real reason (because then Shacklebolt would tell Dumbledore to beware). Instead, Harry said, "You know those books by Roy Locke in the bookshop, about the supposed adventures of Harry Potter? Harry Potter and the Vampire Village and that lot? They're all fake."

"Fake, really?"

"Quite fake. 'Dora Tonks is queen of England' fake."

"Too bad," said Shacklebolt. "I like the idea of Queen Nymphadora the First."

Tonks smacked him on the chest. "Worthless prat!"

Shacklebolt, standing next to Tonks, laughed as if he were Father Christmas. Then he said lowly, "I'm pleased to meet you, Harry Potter."

Tonks peered closely at Harry's face. "You're really Harry Potter?" Her hair turned bright yellow, as her face showed a wide smile.

"Wait, what?" nearby childish voices asked. "Where's Harry Potter?"

This was how Harry "met" many wizard-raised first-years—and "met" one Muggle-born first-year. Hermione had to explain to Justin Finch-Fletchley who "Harry Potter" was, and why him being here, now, was a big deal.

"Are you sure you're Harry Potter?" Zacharias Smith said sceptically. "You've no scar."

Hermione said, "This is definitely Harry Potter."

"How do you know? I don't know you. Are you a mu—Muggle-born?" challenged Smith.

"Lose the attitude, whoever you are," Harry growled. "This is my best friend, Hermione."

Hermione said, "I am Hermione Granger, daughter of New House Granger." She curtsied to the mob of firsties—

—who went into shock. This was a proper wizard-etiquette self-introduction—done correctly by a Muggle-born.

(A Muggle-born who had borrowed two books on wizarding etiquette from her friend Harry, and who had read those books closely.)

The eleven-year-olds who now surrounded Harry and Hermione introduced themselves by the rules of wizard etiquette. The last to introduce himself was Zacharias Smith—

—who said, "You still haven't convinced me you're Potter."

Hermione huffed. "He's Harry Potter, don't be silly. Professor Snape told me this boy is Harry Potter, and I've read three of his mum's diaries."

"What about the scar?" Millicent Bulstrode asked, looking confused.

Harry said, "I got the scar ten years ago, people. The scar healed."

Millicent Bulstrode, Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass shared a look. Then Daphne said, "Heir Potter, once the three of us grab a compartment, you're welcome to sit with us during the trip to Hogwarts."

Daphne was not so rude as to explicitly say that Hermione was not invited.

Harry replied, "Hermione and I plan to grab our own compartment, then we'll drop in on everyone else during the trainride. See you later."

As Harry started to move towards the train, with Hermione following, Harry called out, "Nice to meet you, Cousin Tonks! The pink hair is wicked!"

Minutes later, Harry and Hermione had claimed an empty compartment. Harry put his freight, and Hermione's freight, in the overhead racks "the hard way"—without feather-light charms and without Wingardium Leviosa.

As Harry took his seat, Hermione said, "In three and half years' worth of your mother's diaries, she never mentions James Potter's relatives' names. I can't imagine that Lily would write about such things in the three and a half years' worth of diaries I haven't read yet. So how did you know the name of that girl, her mum and your father's mum?"

Harry grinned at her. "Would you believe, the Oracle of Delphi told me?"

Then Harry pulled out his wand. "And speaking of 'Delphi knowledge'..." Harry wordlessly bespelled the compartment door, then put his wand away.

"Are you going to tell me what you just did?" Hermione asked.

"On your sixteenth birthday, yes."

Hermione huffed.

Amazingly, neither Draco Malfoy nor Ron Weasley found Harry Potter's compartment during the trainride, though they each searched hard to find it.

When the train had been rolling for a half-hour—long enough for Ron Weasley to give up trying to find Harry Potter and to park himself in a compartment somewhere else—Harry looked over at Hermione. Who now was reading a Muggle geology book.

The girl in front of him, the girl who sat in the compartment reading, was not quite twelve years old. But Harry remembered Hermione at eighteen.

It was during the horcrux hunt. Ron had deserted them. Harry and Hermione were in the wizard's tent; outside the tent, it was raining. The Wizarding Wireless Network radio was playing music.

Harry and Hermione danced—a spur-of-the-moment activity. Harry ached to kiss Hermione. He got the distinct impression that she likewise wanted to kiss him.

Because Harry and Hermione were soulmates, amazing magic would have happened afterwards if they had kissed.

But because of the Loyalty (to Ron) potions in both their bloodstreams, they did not kiss.

Soon Ron returned, and was undeservedly forgiven. By the time, months later, when Harry walked out alone to face Voldemort, it was obvious that Hermione was Ron's lapdog. Ron's potioned lapdog, Harry found out after he died.

Ronald Bilius Weasley had a lot to answer for—even if right now, he could not even levitate a feather.

Harry cleared his throat. He said to eleven-year-old Hermione, "I'm headed out to visit all the compartments. Let all the other first-year students meet Harry Potter. Tell them that the real Harry Potter is not that boy with glasses and a scar, who vanquishes vampires when he's not eating homemade apple pie in the blue palace he lives in." Harry rolled his eyes.

Hermione smirked. "I wonder how many kids will look at you, the real Harry Potter, and say that you can't be you because you don't look like those book covers."

"Hopefully, not many." Then Harry looked at Hermione. "When I visit other firsties, I'd really like for you to come with me."

"Oh? Why do you want me there?"

"Two reasons. One reason is quite Hufflepuff, and one is quite Slytherin—Salazar Slytherin. Hufflepuff first: I want to be loyal to you and to tell everyone, 'This is Hermione, she's my best friend, she's brilliant in both senses of the word and my life is richer because she's in it.' "

Hermione blushed and smiled, even as she asked, "What's your Salazar Slytherin reason?"

"To let the blood-purity bigots know that yes, you're a Muggle-born, but you're a Muggle-born who is close to me, and whom I'll fight to protect. By the way, Salazar Slytherin would be disgusted"—Harry almost said is disgusted—"by what Slytherin House has become."

Hermione marked her place, closed her book and put it on the seat cushion. "Let's go."

Both George Weasley (closer to the door) and Fred Weasley (sitting next to Lee Jordan) were grinning at Harry. Together they held out a platter. "Here, innocent ickle firsties, have one of our special homemade candies."

Hermione said primly, "No thank you. Sweets are bad for your teeth."

Harry, grinning, said, "Likewise no thanks. Your reputation precedes you, Weasley Twins."

Both twins put on faces of exaggerated disappointment.

George asked, "So if you're real, Harry Potter, then the stories in those books must be real, right?"

Harry laughed. "I'm real, the last time I checked. Those books are cover-to-cover lies."

George: "Gin-Gin will be—"

Fred: "—so disappointed."

Percy sneered. "If those books are lies, why did you let them be published?"

Harry snapped, "Why did I let them be published? Let them? What kind of gormless pillock question is that?"

Perfect Prefect Percy got pissed off then, and looked like he would have docked points from Harry's house if Harry had had a house then.

Ignoring Percy's angry face, Harry continued, "Nobody asked me to tell my story, and nobody asked me if it was okay to use my name. However-much money those books make, all that money goes to the liar, not to me!"

The youngest Weasley male said, "So you're already rich, but now you're cheesed off because you're not raking in even more money? That is, if you're really Harry Potter. I see no scar, no glasses."

Harry said, "What did you say your name was again? Bilious? Well, gosh, you're right, Bilious, you caught me out. My real name isn't Harry James Potter, it's actually Fool Foodchomper. Come on, Hermione, let's go."

As Harry was shutting the compartment door, he heard Ron say, "I knew it!"

As soon as Harry shut the door to the Weasleys' compartment, and Harry and Hermione were out in the carriage's corridor, Hermione asked, "Why did you call the youngest redhead boy 'Bilious'? He called himself 'Ron Weasley,' and the other boys called him 'Ron.' "

"I called him 'Bilious' because One, his middle name is Bilius, B-I-L-I-U-S; and Two, bilious pretty much describes him, trust me."

"But nobody in there called him that before you called him that. Is this more Delphi knowledge?"

With a sigh, Harry nodded. He'd been trying to score a cheap point off Ron, but he'd forgotten that Hermione was listening, and that Hermione had a mind like a supercomputer.

Harry opened up the compartment door and peered into the compartment. Harry saw Blaise Zabini, a homely brunette girl (Pansy Parkinson), two big boys (Crabbe and Goyle), and a boy with white-blond hair that was slicked back. Jackpot, Harry thought.

Harry looked at Draco and said, "Is it true? They're saying all up and down the train that Draco Malfoy, Heir Malfoy, is in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

Draco puffed up. "I am he. Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Hermione snickered, then murmured, "Secret agent Double-Oh nine-and-three-quarters."

Draco continued, "You have me at a disadvantage, sir. Who are you?"

Harry Potter introduced himself (as "Harry Potter, Heir Potter"), then bowed, then introduced "my best friend, Miss Hermione Granger of New House Granger." Hermione curtseyed to the Purebloods. Draco properly introduced the other four first-years in the room to Harry and Hermione—though his introductions of Crabbe and Goyle clearly were halfhearted.

Then Pansy Parkinson curtsied to Harry and (clearly reluctantly) shook Hermione's hand. Harry shook hands with the four future Slytherin boys. Each Pureblood boy kissed Hermione's hand.

But now, with the obligations of etiquette out of the way, Pansy was free to be insulting: "Heir Potter, how can you be friends with a mudblood?"

Harry smiled. "Heiress Parkinson, I could just as easily ask, 'How can I be friends with an ignorant inbred?' Are you aware that these two words describe how the Muggle-born magicals see you Purebloods? Prone to genetic problems that cause problems with fertility and the birthing of Squib children, and laughably ignorant about the larger world?"

Draco said, "We Purebloods aren't 'inbred,' we're superior!"

"A funny thing about that, Heir Malfoy, Heiress Parkinson. My mother, Lily Evans, walked into Hogwarts, starting her first year, as a Muggle-born. Six years later, she walked into Hogwarts as Head Girl. Blood-purity doctrine says such is impossible, yet my mother did it. Then there was that little disagreement with Lord Voldemort on Halloween of 1981. Everyone gives credit to fifteen-month-old me, but I am convinced that somehow my mother defeated Voldemort."

Pansy sneered, " 'Defeated'? Your mudblood mother died."

"She did. But in the same room as her corpse, they found Voldy's robes and Voldy's wand, but no Voldy. Meanwhile, I was perfectly healthy, except for a scarred forehead."

Draco took a breath to speak.

Harry continued, "And don't try to tell me that Voldy didn't try to use the Killing Curse on me, because I remember the green flash!"

Blaise asked, "Why are you here with us, Heir Potter?"

Harry replied, "First, to become friends with Draco Malfoy. I'm told that our Houses are enemies, so we might become enemies later in life; but as schoolboys, I want Draco and me to be friends. This is subject, of course, to the rule that, just as I don't insult or otherwise disrespect Draco's friends here in this compartment, Draco respects my best friend Hermione Granger."

Seven people went silent as Draco stared intently at Hermione.

At last, Draco's gaze shifted to Harry. "Agreed. Friends whilst we're at Hogwarts, but no promises once we both leave Hogwarts or either of us becomes Head of House. I'll respect your Muggle-born friend."

Harry and Draco shook hands.

Blaise said to Harry, "You said 'First.' This implies a 'Second.' What's your second reason for coming here?"

Harry's grin was sharklike. "Blood-purity doctrine really offends me. It's what he believed—the monster who killed my parents. I want to prove it's wrong, so I want to make a bet."

"What bet?" asked Draco.

Harry asked, "Am I correct that all five of you are considered to be Purebloods?" When all five future Slytherins nodded, Harry said, "Whoever of you wants to take the bet: At the end of the school year next June, I bet a hundred galleons of my money against a hundred galleons of yours, that Hermione will have higher marks overall than you."

Hermione squeaked. Harry turned to her and said, "Relax, you've got this. And when I win, you'll get half."

Blaise asked, "What will you do if they cheat?"

Harry replied, "I trust that Professor Snape—or whoever your Head of House is—will keep you from cheating."

In the end, Blaise wrote up a document about the bet, Draco, Pansy and Harry signed the parchment as participants, and Blaise and Hermione signed as witnesses.

"Merlin," Draco breathed after all the signatures were written. "Wait till my mother hears about this. Her other sister married a Muggle-born."

When next Harry and Hermione were giving their undivided attention to walking through the corridor in a train carriage, Harry found Neville Longbottom walking along the same corridor, with his eyes roving over the ground.

But Harry had to pretend he did not recognise Neville. "Hello," he called out, "do you have a problem that we can help you with?"

"My toad, he's escaped," Neville said. "I'm looking for him."

"That is a problem," Harry said. "I'll, erm, go and find a prefect. He or she should be able to help you."

Hermione smacked his arm. "Honestly, Harry! Instead of you finding a phone booth to change in"—Neville's face showed total confusion because of Hermione's words—"let me handle this." Hermione turned to Neville and asked, "What's your toad's name?"

"Trevor. He's Trevor."

Hermione waved her wand (correctly, of course) and called out "Accio Trevor the toad."

Seconds later, Neville had his toad back.

Harry then asked him, "What's your name?"

"Neville Longbottom, Heir Longbottom."

Harry introduced himself and Hermione, then asked, "Are you related to Alice Longbottom?"

"She's my mother. Why?"

"My parents wrote it in their wills that if a man named Sirius Black could not be who raised me, then Alice Longbottom was their second choice. Neville, we could've been brothers!"

Then Harry put his arm around Neville's shoulders, and all but dragged the boy back to Harry's and Hermione's compartment. "Neville, I need to get to know you! I can't tell you how long I've wanted a brother."

"Me too," Neville said.

Hours later, in dark Hogsmeade Station

As Harry and the other first-years were attempting to gather round Hagrid and his raised lantern, Ron Weasley sidled up to Harry. "My brothers convinced me you really are Harry Potter. You and I are going to be best mates in Hogwarts."

"No way, Bilious," Harry snarled.

A legs-sweep—it is such an easy martial-arts move to learn, Harry learnt it from Godric Gryffindor, and practised it to expert level, in three minutes. Ever better, it leaves no magical signature. Best of all: Right here, right now, it was dark outside. So in no time at all, Ron was flat on his back—

But he promptly jumped back up. When Hagrid was loading Harry, Hermione and Neville into their boat, Ron was headed towards that same boat with a determined stride.

But Harry was likewise determined; he held out his hand to Millicent Bulstrode. "Miss Bulstrode, please join us."

As Millicent stepped into the boat, Ron yelled, "Get out of the boat, troll! I'm sitting there."

Harry said, "No you're not. The boat is full now, Bilious, so sorry."

During the boatride, Harry listened to the others ooh and ahh. Harry did not need to fake his own amazement; Hogwarts Castle at night, seen from the boats, was an amazing spectacle—even seen the second time.

As the four first-years were stepping out of the boat, Millicent asked Harry, "You preferred riding in the boat with me, who's from a Grey family, to riding with Ron Weasley, who's from a Light family? The Potters have been Light for centuries."

Harry chuckled. "Correction: I preferred riding with you, who seems like a nice person, to Ron Weasley, who is an utter berk."

As soon as Harry was out of his own boat, he made friendly greetings to the other first-years who had already arrived, or were arriving seconds later: "Now the fun starts, Justin. I hope you get the House you want, Heiress Greengrass. Chin up, Heir Malfoy, make your parents proud. Neville my godbrother, the Sorting will be a piece of cake for you—relax. You two Patil girls from India, your real adventure starts in a few minutes."

Harry ignored Ron, pretending he did not see him.

Zacharias Smith was nasty and rude—Harry wanted to hex him, but smiled like a car salesman instead.

All the other children relaxed a bit. Harry Potter clearly was not worried about the Sorting, so why should they be?

Hermione Granger and Professor McGonagall, each for her own reasons, looked at Harry in amazement.

Minutes later, in the Entrance Hall

The firsties were waiting for Professor McGonagall to return and to start the Sorting. Everyone except Harry looked nervous—Neville and Draco looked especially nervous.

Harry spoke loudly: "At least one kid here is worried that he or she won't match any House, that he or she will be sent home on the train. Don't worry, I won't ask for a show of hands."

Harry heard much nervous laughter.

Harry continued, "But don't worry, an hour from now, we'll all have Houses, and we'll all be eating a delicious dinner."

Zacharias Smith snarled, "Yeah? How do you know, Potter? You're a first-year like the rest of us!"

Harry's smile was soft, calm. "My mum kept a diary during her first year in Hogwarts. Nobody got sent home during her Sorting, so I figure us fifty or so kids all are safe. Bottom line? Relax, you'll sail through this."

The rest of Harry's yearmates looked calmer now. Hermione smiled at Harry, looking proud of him.

Harry thought back on what he had just done, speaking up to reassure the other first-years. Harry thought, I'm quite a different person than during my last lifetime.

In his last lifetime, Harry in Hogwarts wanted to be "just Harry," but this never happened. He was famous at eleven, which was why both Ron and Draco sought Harry out on the firstie train. And in the years after the firstie train, sometimes Harry was praised and admired, and sometimes he was insulted and scorned, but never, not for one minute, was Harry ignored. In 1998, few of Harry's yearmates had an opinion on what sort of person Morag MacDougal was, but the entire school had opinions on what sort of person Harry Potter was.

Then during his fifth year, Harry formed and ran Dumbledore's Army. "Just Harry" did not want to be the one in charge—Hermione all but nagged Harry into taking the job—but Harry discovered that he excelled at teaching other students, and he excelled at leading students.

Now in 1991, with Voldemort skulking about, Harry's yearmates needed a leader. In this lifetime, Harry resolved, he would be their leader, from the very beginning.

A bit later, in the Great Hall

The Sorting was in progress.

"Goldstein, Anthony," McGonagall called out.

A half-minute later: "RAVENCLAW!" the Sorting Hat shouted.

"Goyle, Gregory."

Five seconds after the Sorting Hat went on the boy's head, the Hat yelled out, "SLYTHERIN!"

"Granger, Hermione."

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head. Harry chuckled.

In Harry's previous lifetime, Hermione had caused a hatstall, followed by a Sorting into Gryffindor. This time, no hatstall happened; the Sorting Hat's announcement came quickly.