A/N: Thank you for your time!
Chapter 7: Janus
The ceiling was breathtaking.
Hermione caught Neville staring at the twinkling stars, mouth agape, and smiled.
"The ceiling is enchanted to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History," she whispered to Neville.
Hermione tried to keep her eyes on the stars and the floating candles to distract herself from the stares of the older students. She had always been painfully shy - in social situations at least - and found herself grateful for her mass of chestnut curls as her ears burned bright red.
Led by Professor McGonagall the first years huddled near the front of the great hall before a dusty, heavily patched wizard's hat perched on a shabby three-legged stool. Everyone including the professors sitting at the long table at the head of the hall stared intently at the hat. After a confused glance at Neville, who shrugged, Hermione stared at it too - jumping when a rip near the brim moved and the hat began to sing. Hermione blinked, astonished.
"We just have to try on an old hat?! I'm going to kill Fred!"
Ron's furious whisper carried to Hermione and she couldn't help but giggle as a taller, older version of Ron at the Gryffindor table grinned cheekily at them, his twin mirroring him at his side. Professor McGonagall stepped forward at the conclusion of the Sorting Hat's song with a scroll in her hand. Clearing her throat, she began calling names in alphabetical order and Hermione watched anxiously as the hat promptly began to allocate houses to her fellow first years.
"Hermione Granger!"
Hermione felt Neville pat her on the shoulder as she stepped forward, head bowed to allow her hair to fall forward and obscure as much of her face as possible without looking absurd, and turned to sit on the chair. Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on her head and she jumped when it spoke in her mind, the ragged brim slipping over her eyes.
Miss Granger.
Its voice was strangely androgynous and echoed as if it were speaking many times over.
Yes, Mr - Mrs - er, sorry. Yes, Professor Hat?
A chuckle reverberated in her skull as she pushed the brim back up to her forehead, blushing in mortification. Hermione tried to distract herself from her embarrassment by attempting focus on each echo in the hat's voice but found herself, quite atypically, unable to concentrate.
'Hat' will do. You're an interesting one.
Oh?
Wisdom indeed. You will be a credit to Ravenclaw's legacy.
Hermione had reasoned as much when she had read about the four houses. Ravenclaw prized intelligence and wit and Hermione wasn't shy to admit that they were her best qualities. She had actually thought Hufflepuff would be a close second as she had always been a very hard worker. She wasn't a Slytherin, that much she knew - she had never been very cunning - and she certainly didn't possess the famed Gryffindor valour either.
You underestimate yourself, child.
Hermione blinked and waited for the hat to announce her house.
You are a true Ravenclaw. It's almost as if you were born for it.
The hat sounded almost amused and Hermione shivered as she could feel its magic pressing at her temples, chills racing down the back of her neck and leaving fine hairs standing at rigid attention in their wake.
You can feel my magic.
Yes.
How very interesting.
Hermione began to wonder why she was still sitting on the stool. She could hear murmurs growing in volume from the four long tables that took up the majority of the Great Hall and her face was burning at the attention.
They've termed this a hatstall.
The hat sounded derisive and Hermione couldn't help but smile a little at its high handedness.
I have never once failed to sort a child. That is to say, I have always known where a child needs to go the second I settle on their heads - sometimes even before then.
Then why wait?
For the pleasure of your company, of course.
Hermione shook her head and laughed, curls bouncing merrily around her shoulders.
I suppose you've met some interesting people over the years?
You have been the most interesting person I've met for a very long while.
Hermione had absolutely no idea how to respond to that - she didn't think she was very interesting at all. Her feet started to tap against the polished stone floor.
Impatient, aren't you?
I'm not really sure what to do to help you, Hat. You weren't in any of the books I read about Hogwarts.
Then you clearly weren't looking in any of the right places. Regardless, your role in the Sorting - at least, your active role - is limited. I have everything I need right here in your brilliant little head.
Hermione didn't know whether to be annoyed at the Hat's dismissal of her research, pleased at its compliment or uneasy that it was able to rifle through her mind as if it were an open book.
You're hardly an open book. An extensive library perhaps.
So I'm a Ravenclaw then?
Most definitely. However, I find myself leaning in another direction for your Sorting. You wanted to make friends, did you not?
Well, yes, I suppose I -
But before she could finish her thought, the Hat shifted importantly on her head and exuberantly announced a house that sent her eyebrows shooting skyward.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Hours later, Hermione lay ensconced within her four poster bed with its thick velvet hangings drawn tightly around her. The crimson bedlinen was deliciously comfortable and she found herself sighing blissfully at the softness of her pillow, full and drowsy from the spectacular welcoming feast.
Her Sorting had been an absolute surprise. Hermione had remained on the stool in disbelief for a few seconds after the Hat's pronouncement and had to be ushered in the direction of her table by a pleased Professor McGonagall, the Hat's parting chuckles echoing oddly in her mind.
Neville had been thrilled. He had bounded to the Gryffindor table so quickly after his Sorting that he had forgotten to take off the Sorting Hat, which had winked at her audaciously as it was being jogged back by a blushing Neville amidst gales of laughter. In a short time they had been joined by both Harry and Ron, to the general excitement of the table, and the feast had begun after a few truly odd words from their new Headmaster.
Never had Hermione enjoyed a meal with her peers and felt like she truly belonged.
The twins had taken it upon themselves to make Hermione laugh at every available opportunity, perhaps sensing her initial discomfort, and despite Hermione's usual dislike of needless tomfoolery even she could see what a brilliant pair they were. Hermione had learned to value cleverness in whatever form it came - and kindness doubly so.
Conversation had flowed easily, lubricated by good food and drink (even pumpkin juice had somehow gained a new appeal) and the sense of excitement that accompanied a shared new adventure forged quick friendships. She had spoken to each of her year mates at least once, nudging Neville to do the same, and found herself, conceivably for the first time, comfortable around new people.
By the time the feast had wound to an end with the most ridiculous rendition of a school song she had ever heard and the prefects had led them to the portrait of the Fat Lady that guarded their common room Hermione was absolutely and most contentedly exhausted.
The feeling of magic, even high in the dormitories, was strong and thick but not suffocatingly so, an intoxicating combination of a warm blanket and a summer breeze that she wondered how she had lived without for all this time.
The scent of rain lingered in the charged air as her eyes drifted slowly shut, lulled into a deep and comfortable sleep by the soothing thrum of magic around her.
A/N: Sorry for the short chapter, but I needed something to set the scene. Please leave a review!