Erasing Time's Tracks
Chapter 11
Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to J. K. Rowling.
- - -
Hermione Granger had been prepared – she thought – for what was ahead when she accepted Slytherin, yet to be singled out three times in the first night at Hogwarts was really too much.
She guessed – quite correctly – that Dumbledore's and Higgs's well-intentioned interventions might, in the long run, make things worse. She noticed how the prefect had tried to justify his statements based on what were apparently pragmatic notions of Slytherin behaviour; that is, he might not have much cared for the blood purity issue, but he could not afford to say so.
She had not missed the poisonous glances from that stringy boy – Nott? – who had rudely insulted her at the dinner table, or those from the pug-faced girl – Pansy, she believed the name was. She attempted to calm down by mentally cataloguing all the spells that she had come across in her Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook, which were in truth few, but at least she could defend herself, she supposed, if anyone attacking her was not overly far ahead in terms of ability.
Unfortunately, her first taste of the seamy side of Slytherin was to be had that night. Ronald Weasley had nervously asked her if she would be all right, and she'd said not to worry. He didn't seem to have wholly believed her, but they'd said goodnight to each other and parted. Around then, she noticed most other students also heading off to bed.
As Hermione warily eyed the girls' dorm, she noted that her trunk was set by the bed nearest the door. Unfortunately, Pansy decided she wanted that bed, and the disdain the pug-faced girl showed was clearly evident as she sneered at Hermione.
"Get your trunk away from that bed, you Mudblood," she said haughtily. "I'll teach you to respect your superiors."
Knowing anything she was going to say would be of no help, she decided she had to make some kind of stand anyway. Therefore, Hermione retorted, "And what's it to you? I've never known you before today, and all these beds are exactly the same. You could have just asked nicely to switch beds, you know."
The two other girls, whom she recalled were Greengrass and Davis, seemed to be unconcerned with what was going on, but a particularly heavy-set girl, who Hermione believed was named Bulstrode, barked, "Stop arguing with her, Granger, and just move your bloody trunk! You're not going to help yourself."
Hermione was incensed, and was about to respond when she saw, unbelievably, that Pansy had whipped her wand out. Before she could react, she heard the girl cry, "Tarantellegra!"
The hex hit Hermione, and she wobbled about, trying to regain some dignity as the humiliating Jelly-Legs jinx caused her to trip and fall to the floor, her legs still twitching. Exasperated, the big girl snapped out the counter curse, yanked the poor recipient up off of the floor by her robes, and unceremoniously dragged Hermione's trunk over to the unused bed by the bathroom door.
The girl, Bulstrode, turned to her friend, snapping out the words as she spoke. "Parkinson, would you just get to bed already? I'm tired and you two duelling isn't going to let me get to sleep any faster. That's why I put a stop to this. You think I want a bloody prefect coming in here?"
Pansy just sneered again, and moved her trunk up next to the bed she had 'appropriated' from Hermione, as the hag-like girl eyed Hermione and said in a low voice, "Look, I did you a favour helping you with cancelling that jinx and moving your trunk. It's not like I have to do anything for you, you know. You're a Mudblood. I just don't want to be here watching an argument when I can be sleeping, so now you owe me a favour for getting Parkinson off your back. Now get on to bed. And don't think I won't hex you myself if you let this get around."
Hermione swallowed and nodded uncertainly. She quietly got ready for bed, all the while watching Parkinson and Bulstrode carefully out of the corner of her eye. She resolved then and there to learn as much about magic as she could—and Pansy Parkinson would soon regret that she had ever tangled with Hermione Granger.
The next morning, when Hermione woke up, she noted that the rest of the girls were still asleep; she therefore decided that discretion was the better part of valour as she tended to her morning ablutions as swiftly as possible. Once finished, she headed to the Great Hall for breakfast. Just as she left the room, she saw – or thought she saw – Millicent Bulstrode moving towards the bathroom.
At the Slytherin table, the first years were congregated at the end near the High Table; Hermione took a seat nearest where Professor Snape usually sat. Some fried eggs and toast appeared before her, along with a glass of that strange liquid, called pumpkin juice.
As she began eating, she noticed that the Prefect, Higgs, seemed to be regarding her a bit sympathetically, whereas the other older Slytherins paid her no attention. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle appeared to be engaged in an impromptu contest to see who could consume the largest breakfast plate, and grunted at her as she ate her (quite modest, by their standards) breakfast.
About halfway through Hermione's solitary breakfast, a familiar redhead slid into the seat next to her. "Morning, Hermione," Ron said. "Did you…sleep all right?"
Under her breath, Hermione said, "It was all right, Ronald, but Pansy Parkinson insulted me last night and forced me to move to a different bed." At the look of outrage on his freckled face, she hissed, "Don't make an issue of it! Even if you never read Hogwarts: A History, you should know as well as I do what a fair number of Slytherins tend to think about Muggleborns! Even Draco warned us, you know."
The boy did not appear to want to be terribly rational about the situation, but acquiesced, remembering that Slytherins had to at least pretend all was well when in public. So he remained next to Hermione, fuming a bit as he waited for his own pumpkin juice and breakfast. As the two began eating, she noticed Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy entering the Great Hall, sitting next to Crabbe and Goyle. The blond's voice carried well as he said, "Oi, Vince, Greg, you two finished yet?"
More grunts from the gustatory duelling duo were the response he got.
Draco rolled his eyes; however, Hermione got the impression that he had not meant for anyone to see his apparent exasperation with the pair. He turned to Harry and plucked the boy's sleeve slightly to get his attention. The two began conversing in tones too low for Hermione to easily hear, but she did notice that the latter had a habit of hesitantly eating, as though he expected someone to tell him he couldn't eat more.
Ronald was bolting his food as though he expected anyone else to snag a piece off his plate, and she resolved to improve his manners. She said, "By the way, Ronald, what electives do you think you'll take in your third year?"
The poor boy's look of astonishment at Hermione's attempt to map out all seven years of her schooling in one go would have been worth framing in a picture.
- - - - -
Draco Malfoy noticed Granger sitting at the far end of the Slytherin table, with Weasley next to her. He really was not all that upset by Vince and Greg's non-communicative nature when eating, and had rolled his eyes in good-natured exasperation as he sat down. He reminded himself, however, that it would not do for a Malfoy to be too gauchely familiar with his minions.
Harry had sat next to him, and the blond plucked at the bespectacled boy's sleeve, only half registering that he seemed to have started that habit of his to get the other boy's attention. They began discussing in low voices what sort of classes one took at Hogwarts, while Draco noted that his retiring fellow had a tendency to hesitate a bit after eating a few bites. This reinforced his suspicions and made him say, "By the way, Harry – remember that examination by Madam Pomfrey, okay?"
The black-haired boy nodded a bit guardedly, and was about to reply when Snape swooped down on the Slytherin table, startling some of the first-year students, who had trickled in by dribs and drabs over the course of the morning. The man handed out schedules to them all, and said, "Be punctual to all of your classes. That is my only warning."
The man then assumed his normal spot at the High Table and balefully grimaced at the Gryffindors, particularly the two boisterous twin redheads. Draco smirked to himself as he remembered their multitude of pranks, and wondered if he could use his connection to Weasley to get an "in" with them. They had practically worshipped the ground Potter walked on after fourth year, although Draco had no idea why.
It was as the blond finished his breakfast, with Harry a few seconds behind, Lucius's pet owl, Mabon, swept into the Great Hall along with the other post owls. Hedwig swooped in as well, hooting amiably at Draco before preening in front of her owner, who grinned and ran his fingers through her feathers before feeding her a bit of toast.
The package Mabon bore read "To Draco, from your Mum," and contained some high-quality sweets that Narcissa knew Draco liked. His mouth watered at the thought of a chocolate snack, but he promised himself that he would save them for later.
Well, most of them.
The real entertainment of the day, however, came when the Howler, borne by an ancient owl, bonked Weasley on the head and began puffing before the boy frantically tore it open, while the ancient owl nearly caromed off the far wall and landed, panting and wheezing, on the long table.
"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY! HOW ON EARTH DID YOU GET SORTED INTO SLYTHERIN?! I HAD TO HEAR IT FROM PERCY, AS THOUGH YOUR OWN MOTHER WEREN'T GOOD ENOUGH TO WRITE THE INSTANT YOU GOT SORTED! IF YOU PUT ONE TOE OUT OF LINE OR IF I HEAR ABOUT YOU LEARNING ANY DARK ARTS, SO HELP ME MERLIN, ARTHUR AND I WILL HAVE YOU HOME IN TWO SHAKES OF A KNEAZLE'S TAIL!"
The older Slytherins were snickering and not trying to hide it very well, while the first-years looked on in awe or surprise, as they saw Ron's freckled face turn pale at the threat, before oddly, the Howler zoomed over to the Gryffindor table.
"AND DON'T THINK I'VE FORGOTTEN ABOUT YOU, FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY! I SAW THAT WATER BUCKET YOU CHARMED TO FALL ON POOR GINNY'S HEAD IF SHE WOKE UP BEFORE NINE O'CLOCK AND I MANAGED TO DESTROY IT BEFORE IT SPLASHED ALL THAT WATER ON HER! ONE MORE LIKE THAT AT CHRISTMAS AND I'LL HAVE YOU DE-GNOMING THE GARDEN WITHOUT ANY WARMING CHARMS!"
The Howler exploded brilliantly, and the three Weasleys affected by said Howler regarded each other in a kind of resignation and alliance. The Slytherins were openly guffawing at the Gryffindors for the most part, and even Draco felt hard-pressed to resist openly snickering.
Harry, in awe, said, "What was that?"
Draco replied, "A Howler. Trust me, you don't want to get one."
Harry nodded, then looked at Ron and smiled slightly as the boy looked around for any kind of moral support after that episode of Mrs Weasley's formidable lung-power.
Draco wondered if maybe Molly Weasley would ever know she inadvertently paved the way for a … unique Gryffindor-Slytherin alliance, though he didn't doubt that Ron Weasley would still be the butt of pranks every now and then.
- - -
The first day of classes was pretty mundane as classes went; the Slytherin first-years had no choice about which classes to take, so they trooped around as one from room to room as the bell rang. In the morning they had Herbology with the Ravenclaws, and Hermione rapidly proved to be her usual overenthusiastic points-obtaining self as she hauled down fifteen points for Slytherin in rapid succession for knowing about the three different plants that Sprout had them sketching in their books; after that, they got essays assigned about researching their properties. The tour of the greenhouses was boring, but not for the reasons Draco had had before. He had never had a high opinion of Herbology in the first place, but now things were mostly just a "re-do". It was not fun to think he would essentially have to write all the essays, tests and examinations twice.
Ugh.
History of Magic with the Gryffindors was as somnolent as always, with Binns droning on about how this Goblin Rebellion was the key beginning of the formation of Gringotts and the beginning of a shaky alliance… Harry's and Weasley's heads had drooped to the table somewhere around the time Fiststrap the Goblin had slain some unsuspecting wizard who had offended against some Goblin customs. Even Granger seemed to be valiantly struggling as she took notes. She apparently gave up trying to wake up Weasley when the boy's head thunked on the table for the fourth time in five minutes.
The other Slytherins openly showed a complete lack of interest in the subject, having been informed of Binns by their parents, older siblings or family friends (there was one advantage to all the purebloods knowing each other, thought Draco).
Draco himself had long since quit bothering to listen as he noticed even the tatty rat that the redhead owned had fallen asleep. Why did that damn animal keep nagging at the back of his head? Other thoughts percolated their way through his head about which 'extracirricular' spells he ought to teach Harry first off. The warding and silencing charms were part and parcel of many a Slytherin's Hogwarts experience, but the real value was in learning hexes and jinxes to defend oneself. The boy's whip-crack reflexes could only enhance his ability with them.
The bell rang, mercifully ending the soporific droning, and the Slytherins, groggy and puffy-eyed, staggered off to lunch. The blond decided the hell with it and asked for two good strong cups of tea for himself and Harry, who gratefully accepted a cup and drank greedily from it. He seemed more awake after, and said regretfully, "I wish History of Magic was actually interesting. I bet there'd be so much to learn."
Draco nodded. "I've heard all Binns does is go on about Goblin Rebellions. You'd think we'd learn something about the fact that there were so many, or even just learn about wizards and witches. Why, Merlin himself—"
Harry stared at him wide-eyed. "He's a real person?"
Draco snorted and said sardonically, "Of course he's real, Harry. We don't say 'Oh, Merlin', for nothing, you know."
A bit abashed, the latter said, "Nobody ever told me."
Shrugging, the other boy told him, "That's what I'm here for. Come, let's get some sandwiches and then we'll be off to Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws, then Charms with the Hufflepuffs."
Minerva McGonagall was every bit as strict and terrifying as she had been for several years, and Draco permitted himself only the ghost of a smile as he looked sideways at Granger, who was apparently acquiring a case of heroine-worship of McGonagall. The two women did have oddly similar tendencies to be stern and merciless when it came to insisting on work being done properly and with alacrity; he'd heard her shrill voice nagging Weasley often enough before.
The desk-into-a-pig-and-back-again stunt was still impressive, especially considering that he, Draco, had only just started that kind of transfiguring work in sixth year, whereas the work the old teacher set, which was turning a matchstick into a needle, was familiar ground. He was cautious to procrastinate at first, and then midway through, he "got" it, and tugged Harry's shoulder briefly; he whispered to his friend, "Try concentrating on the vision of it as being a needle when you do the spell."
Harry seemed to have better luck after that, and managed to partly turn his matchstick into a needle. Granger, of course, got the transfiguration done by the end of class, and Draco and Hermione each pulled down five more points for Slytherin.
He smirked inwardly as he heard the pure-blooded Slytherins beginning to mumble about a 'Mudblood showing us all up.' They would never know that Draco had had a hand (however murky it might have actually been) in getting Slytherin House's biggest secret weapon for the next seven years – the veritable points machine Hermione Granger.
The last class was Charms, and Flitwick took the entire class to cover the basic theory of Charms and how they differed from other spells such as Defence-related hexes and jinxes, or Transfiguration of objects. Draco expected no less from a Ravenclaw, and was not disappointed by the time the final bell rang. The first-years began to scatter off, and some started to write letters to their parents and post them that night.
Others did so later that night, or the next day, after having some encounters in the Slytherin Common Room, or in the hallways of Hogwarts.
- - - - -
Dear Father and Mother,
I have been Sorted into Slytherin, as expected. Harry Potter has been Sorted into Slytherin, as well! We have become friends, I think; at least, we have had a few words and he seems content to let me take him under my wing. I shall introduce him to the rest of Slytherin and show him how to put his best foot forward in our house. I am taking your advice to heart and ensuring that the Malfoy name will be associated prominently with the Boy-Who-Lived.
Some surprises happened, as well. You may remember Arthur Weasley in the Ministry – one of his sons has also been Sorted into Slytherin. I was surprised, to say the least, that the son of a blood traitor would enter our House. There may be some hope, Father, for the Weasleys if I can befriend his son. What do you suggest?
Finally, the largest surprise of all – we have a Mudblood in Slytherin! Her name is Hermione Granger, and I am quite sure there have been no Grangers in wizarding families for the last several hundred years, if not longer. I am not sure what the Sorting Hat was thinking, but in any case, Pansy Parkinson will handle her appropriately, I am sure.
Mother, things are going well here at Hogwarts, and thank you for the chocolates. I think I will have a good time of it here.
Your son,
Draco.
oOoOo
Dear Father,
You will never believe this, but that blood traitor Weasley has a son who has made it into Slytherin! Of all the disgraces to our House, I cannot imagine a worse one; even the Mudblood in Slytherin is not as bad as that Weasel. At least she will know to keep her mouth shut and her head down if she wants to make it out of Hogwarts alive.
Unfortunately, Father, I have forgotten my special Dictating Quill. Could you please ask Mother to send it by the next owl post? It will help me a lot when I do my homework assignments.
Your son,
Theodore.
oOoOo
Dear Mother and Father,
I have to share a dormitory room with a Mudblood, of all people! A Mudblood! I have been Sorted into Slytherin, and that stupid Hat made some mistake and Sorted a girl named Grunger, or Glanger, or something, into our House. I am appalled at the carelessness with which Dumbledore seems to treat our House's ideals.
Professor Snape refuses to be of any help; Dumbledore wrote an order to make sure the girl stays in Slytherin. What that old coot thinks he is doing, I have no idea!
Your daughter,
Pansy.
oOoOo
Dear Mum and Dad,
First of all, please don't be alarmed about the owl. Her name's Hedwig and she's such a nice, intelligent and beautiful owl! My friend, Harry Potter, let me use her to send you this letter. He assured me she would know to be discreet when she arrived at home.
Professor McGonagall said during the orientation that coming to Hogwarts would be the best way to control my accidental magic. You may remember the time I somehow shattered the kitchen window when I got angry thinking about that childish bully Warren Ringelbaum at our primary school. However, I admit to being a bit uncertain, as this is the first time I will have an extended stay away from home. I would let you know if I feel unsafe to the point of needing to leave Hogwarts.
Unfortunately, there are some prejudiced people that believe Muggleborns (like me) shouldn't be brought to Hogwarts. This means that those prejudiced people sometimes call me "Mudblood", which is about the foulest thing you can call someone. It would be like calling a black person one of those rude words which I won't write here.
However, things have been kept under control. Headmaster Dumbledore is known to be sympathetic to those who believe the so-called blood distinctions are meaningless, and he makes sure incidents like this do not get out of hand.
One of my friends, Ronald Weasley, has been quite supportive and refuses to back down when anyone starts in on me. Harry Potter, another friend, has similarly stared down some people once or twice. I don't understand it fully, but his eyes seem to radiate this intensity on occasion when he registers displeasure. I suspect it is part of the "Boy-Who-Lived" mystique that surrounds him. He will be fascinating to watch as time goes on, I think.
Please give Hedwig a small bit of toast or bacon before she leaves. I think she deserves it for taking such a long trip!
Your loving daughter,
Hermione.
oOoOo
Dear Mum and Dad,
It's still hard to believe I'm in bloody Slytherin! Sorry about the language, and not writing you before, Mum, but I really didn't expect this and I kind of forgot.
Besides me, there's Harry Potter, and a muggleborn named Hermione Granger (I had to ask her how to spell that name). It looks like we three are pretty much on our own here.
Can you ask Ginny how she does that Bat-Bogey Hex, and to write to me so I can learn it and get them all back good! I won't be sorry when they stop calling me a "blood traitor".
Tell Fred and George they can stop pranking me, too! If I have to deal with another set of pink robes it won't be too soon.
Your son,
Ron.
Author Note:
Hey, all. :-)
First off, thanks go to Maddevillechilde, Talriga and Kirinin for their excellent beta work. :)
Second, I've managed to get back into the groove of updating this fic, and with any luck I'll be a bit more regular about it. As always I welcome any con-crit regarding weaknesses, omissions, or just plain mistakes. :) I plan to explore the Harry-Hermione and Ron-Hermione dynamic a little more in the following chapters, particularly as relates Harry's reaction to Hermione being bullied. As we know, Harry's quite sensitive to others being bullied, thanks to Cousin Duddy Dinkydums.
fydyan's review made a good point, and after discussing it with my betas as well as reviewing canonical instances of how close (or not) Hermione is to her family, I think she would selectively mention things to her parents. I have therefore revised her letter home; it does cut out what could be a good subplot regarding her parents, but canon has shown that even Gryffindor!Hermione doesn't seem to be that forthcoming to her parents.
Further, she has a tendency to believe in authority, but has shown an interesting tendency to justify to herself reasons for why she would omit information. Her letter is classically Slytherin - dribble out just enough information to reassure the other party, and keep the rest for later.