Disclaimer: Mr. H. Potter and the universe in which he resides belongs not to me, but to it's author J.K Rowling.

A/N: Just some light vignettes. Compare and contrast and all of that :)

Feedback is still most welcome!

Interlude no. 1

September 1, 1991 King's Cross Station, London England

Right, this is it. This is it. You can do this. People do this all the time. Hermione practically tip-toes at the entrance while waiting for her parents to finish their study of the King's Cross station map on the wall. I hope I've read enough about how things work to fit in. Please let me be normal, just please let me be normal. Oh, please! What if they don't like me either? Her anxiety is running as high as it ever has on this foggy London morning.

As her parents lead her gently through the station to the appropriate platform her nerves finally kick into overdrive. I know they'll hate me. She was panicking now. Everyone always does. Why should they be any different?

When professor McGonagall had come to call on her and her parents, she had been taken aback, certainly, but really she had been intensely relieved to discover that she was not a freak of nature (at least not in a terribly negative way), and most important that there was indeed somewhere she truly belonged. And this muggle world was not it.

There were other children like her. What she could do really was magic.

The thought had kept her warm through the winter and summer. McGonagall had come to call already last autumn, when Hermione turned eleven. She had been given instructions on how to acquire all the equipment she would need for school in spring, and had promptly gotten everything ready when the time had come. She had spent the whole summer pouring over her school books and hoping beyond hope that she would be good enough in this new world. That other children would like her. That this would be the start of a wonderful life if she simply applied herself to make it so. Sure, she was eleven years behind, but she would do everything within her power to catch up, and hopefully eventually excel.

Now, standing by the barrier between platform nine and ten, she feels rather apprehensive and a bit queasy about the whole business. All the same, she tries a winning smile when she looks up at her parents.

'Alright, then. I better get going.' her voice cracks.
'Oh, darling. We will miss you terribly, but you are going to have so much fun! Just you wait and see. Mum and I will see you at Christmas.'

They hug for what seems a really long time. Hermione clings to her fathers strong frame, wishing he could simply carry her away. Eventually she is forced to let go, and her mother gives her a kiss and assures her they will write to her every day if need be.

And then Hermione Granger steps through to Platform 9 and ¾, entering the world in which she really belongs for the very first time.

September 1, 1962 King's Cross Station, London, England

Bellatrix let go of her father's arm the moment she steadied herself on the platform. Portkey travel was not easy for an 11-year old, but her father had insisted once it became clear how terribly busy the Floo connection was. Lots of witches and wizards preferred to simply travel to Diagon Alley and then cross through the city and enter the platform like Muggles, but Bellatrix's father thought this distasteful and dangerous.

'Are you alright, my darling?' he inquires, smiling down at her.
'I'm fine, father.' she brushes off her robes, trying not to show how ill she feels.
'You did wonderful for your first time. It's alright to feel a bit sick.' he peers at her indulgently before looking around.

She takes his hand and leads him toward the great steam engine. She thinks it is fantastic, but knows her father doesn't really approve of it. Trains, it seems, are an old muggle invention that has made its way to Hogwarts simply for being practical for moving hundreds of children through the magical barriers protecting Hogsmeade and Hogwarts.

Her eyes are evidently a bit too wide at the sight of the train for her father not to notice, however.

'It is terribly impressive, isn't it?' he asks, amused.
'A little bit, yes. I mean, I think so.' she beams. He sighs dramatically.
'I suppose I better get with the times. I'll forgive the train.'

And they walk hand in hand through the platform, admiring the train together. Bellatrix is secretly glad mother is working today, as she would not take to the hustle and bustle. But her father strolls majestically with his fine emerald robes, his long black hair tied with a silver clasp, raised far above all the confusion and noise. Bellatrix looks eagerly around, clinging to her fathers hand. She's never seen so many children in one place before. She recognizes a few of them, but she feels a twinge of longing for her sisters all the same. She wishes they were here to share this with. Andromeda especially would like this, she thinks.

'Ah, here we are. There's a free compartment here.' her father peeks through a window. 'Let's get you on, shall we?'
He consults his watch and grins at her.
'My little warrior off to Hogwarts. I can hardly believe it.' he beams. 'You will have a wonderful time, my darling.'

Her worry must have shown, because he brings her in for a crushing hug. 'Do not worry. I am not worried, Bella. Not for you. I will miss you terribly, of course, but I know you will do well. Just remember your studies are always the most important, Bellatrix, and everything else will sort itself.'

'Will you write me?' she whispers.
'Of course. Every day. I shall arrange for you to have the Prophet, as well. It is proper for a young witch to be up on the news. And of course, I am sure your sisters are composing their first letter already. You will have lots of post, don't worry.'

He draws her trunk out of his pocket and restores it to its original size before placing a Featherlight Charm on it and handing it over to her. She steps onto the train, waving at him as the train starts to move.