Ok, guys, here is the chapter! Sorry it took so long, but I was very busy with school last week. Anyway, enjoy the reading, and Read and Review please!

Chapter 7: Of Skirts, Books and Funny Red Spectacles

Mr Lovegood dropped me right in front of Madam Malkin's, where Aunt Elspeth was waiting, an impatient Emma holding her hand and shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"See you tomorrow!" called Luna from the car window, waving at me. I waved back, smiling, and almost lost my balance when Emma launched herself at me, chattering at top speed about how much fun she had had at school and how she had made three friends yet. I laughed, holding tight to my crutches to prevent myself from falling.

"Hey, Em, slow down: I almost can't understand!"

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, looking like someone who has to explain again something obvious to a little kid. Jeez, she was really creepy sometimes: since when did five-years-old look so adult?

"Come on, sweetie," said Aunt Elspeth, ruffling her bushy hair, "You can tell her everything while we do the shopping." Emma nodded enthusiastically and took her hand, looking like an adoring puppy.

"What about your school, dear?" asked Aunt Elspeth, turning her bright eyes on me. I grinned, feeling the excitement I had kept under control the whole day raising in my chest.

"It is wonderful!" I said, following her to the shop. "I mean, the fact that it is actually in the castle is already incredible itself, and the lessons are really great, as well as most of the professors." She smiled at me, nodding with a satisfied look on her face.

"And in which house did they sort you in, dear?"

Oh, I was waiting for that question! I puffed out my chest and smiled widely.

"Gryffindor," I said proudly, "Where dwell the brave at heart." The smile Aunt Elspeth gave me was so happy and bright it made me blush slightly, but I didn't lower my eyes from hers.

"Really? Oh, that's wonderful! I am so, so happy, dear! A Gryffindor! I am so proud of you!" She pushed the door of the shop, and the happy sound of a small bell announced our arrival.

"Martha!" called Aunt Elspeth, waving happily at the old woman behind the counter. "We need a Gryffindor uniform!" The eyes of the woman sparkled as she looked at me.

"Really? A Gryffindor? Oh, how wonderful!" She jumped off a stool and quickly came to greet us.

She was short and round, with dark, shiny eyes and soft billows of grey hair falling around her face.

"You know, your aunt and I went to school together, many more years ago than I like to admit. We were both sorted in Gryffindor," she told me with a kind smile, guiding me towards the piles of neatly folded clothes on the shelves.

"So, now let's see…God, you are such a small thing! You'll need the smallest size I have!" She looked at me in disapproval, shaking her head. "Too thin, too thin," she muttered under her breath, taking several items in her arms.

"Well, these should fit. So...here, try this one on. I don't have smaller ones, so if it is large you can only put on some weight." I nodded, blushing slightly, and lowered my eyes for a moment.

"Can I sit down?" I asked sheepishly. "I still can't stand without my crutches, and I need my hands to be free to try the jumper on…" Her eyes softened, and she led me to a changing room hidden behind a thick curtain.

"Here, dear. Tell me if the jumper fits, and then we will take care of the rest of the uniform." I nodded and quickly sat down on the stool, putting on the red jumper embroidered with the Gryffindor emblem. It was a little loose, but it was no big deal: with the incredible amount of food Aunt Elspeth cooked every day, I would have filled it in no time, I was sure.

"That's perfect," I said, taking it off and handing it back to Madam Malkin. She nodded, satisfied, and put it on the counter, along with other things.

"So, a small for the jumpers…Perfect, perfect. Now…I bet a skirt would be wonderful on you. No trousers, you are thin enough, those shapeless things would make you look even smaller…" I chewed my lip, blushing.

"I don't think it's a good idea," I murmured, thinking about what skirts implied. Madam Malkin shook her head forcefully, pushing me into the changing room once again and handing me a dark grey skirt with a red-rimmed hem.

"Oh, don't be silly: you will be wonderful. Now try it on, honey, try it on." I sighed and obeyed, quickly replacing my black jeans with the skirt. Luckily there was no mirror in the changing room, and I carefully avoided looking down at my bare legs -I would have refused to come out if I did so-.

When I stepped out I heard two simultaneous gasps, but I ignored them and went to the large mirror by the shelves. The skirt fitted perfectly and hung just above my knees; I would have loved it if it wasn't for the thick, dark pink scars which ran on my fair skin from under the hem of the skirt to mid-calf, ugly and swollen like ropes enclosed in my body. I felt warm tears welling up in my eyes, and I fought to hold them back, refusing to cry for such a tiny, stupid thing: I had seen those scars before, why was I so upset?

I sighed and turned my head, trying to smile at Aunt Elspeth and Madam Malkin, both of whom were looking at me with mirroring worried expressions on their faces.

"That's why I prefer trousers," I muttered, chewing my lip. Madam Malkin looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, and then grabbed a black bundle from a shelf.

"These will solve the problem," she said, a glint of sadness in her dark eyes. I took the small package, curious, and smiled: black tights. With those on, my scars would have been perfectly concealed.

"Thank you," I said softly, running my fingers on the thick cotton fabric. The old woman smiled, winking at me.

"You are welcome, dear. Now, what else do you need?"

We got out of the shop half an hour later with two large bags containing my school uniform: three skirts like the one I tried on, four plain white shirts, four jumpers -two grey, one red and one black- embroidered with the rampant lion of my house, two red-and-gold ties and a pair of plain black shoes, plus a few pairs of dark grey and black stockings -I would have needed them like I needed air-. I really didn't expect I would have needed so many things just for the uniform.

"Now we need to go to Flourish and Blotts. Do you have the list of your textbooks, dear?" I nodded and quickly took the folded paper from my bag. I hadn't even read it before, so I quickly scanned it, trying to get an idea.

The Advanced Book of Trigonometry, by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Modern Times, by Bathilda Bagshot

One Thousand Herbs and Fungi, by Phyllida Spore

Transfiguration of Literature and Poetry Through the Centuries, by Emeric Switch

Chemistry and its Basic Applications, by Arsenius Jigger

Latin Made Easy, by Lawrence Runes

Primary Colours: A Guide to Art and its Many Branches and Interpretations, by Cassandra Vablatsky

Ok, those were the strangest books I had ever heard of: I mean, Transfiguration of Literature and Poetry?

That was odd! I didn't say anything, though, and followed Aunt Elspeth to the other side of the street, where a wooden sign which reported Flourish and Blotts -Books for Every Occasion- in an elaborate cursive caught my eye.

The letters, carved in the honey coloured wood, were painted a bright yellow which reminded me of sunflowers, and had branch-like green spirals and arabesques decorating them; the effect was quite nice, and it stood out against the cloudy sky.

We got in, and I widened my eyes, looking around in wonder.

The shop was huge, and there were books everywhere: they filled the shelves of the ceiling-tall bookcases and stood in unstable-looking stacks placed here and there; there were average-looking paperbacks and economic editions, and also other books which were absolutely untypical and incredible, some large as paving stones and bound in leather, some the size of a postage stamp in covers of velvet or silk.

I had never seen a similar place before.

"Please, tell me I'm not dreaming," I whispered, still looking around. "I want to live in here. Do you think the owner would agree putting a cot in a corner for me?"

Aunt Elspeth laughed softly, shaking her head in amusement, and led me to the Hogwarts Textbooks section, under a tag which said 7th years. It didn't take much to find everything I needed, and we were done soon -too soon for my taste-. I would have come back after school one of those days, though: I was dying to spend an afternoon among those books, and I needed some new readings.

The three of us squeezed into Aunt Elspeth's old car, a black, shiny beetle-like little thing which had probably been new in the early twenties -at least-, and we slowly headed home, the car jerking alarmingly at every hole in the ground.

Note to myself: stay away from this car from now on.

When we got home I stumbled up the stairs, trying not to fall, but as soon as I got to the top I bumped in a stack of maroon boxes, and it was only due to pure luck if I didn't end up on the floor.

"Wha-?" I started, confused, bending slightly to rub my knee where I had hit the box.

"Oh, I am sorry, dear, I forgot to tell you: the courier came here this morning and delivered your things," said Aunt Elspeth, coming up behind me carrying the bag of clothes from Madam Malkin's.

I smiled, blushing slightly: I had completely forgotten that our things were to arrive today. I had had so many things to think of, it simply slipped out of my mind.

To be honest, I hadn't thought about my former home at all those days. And-Lavender! God, I had totally forgotten about her! How could I? I made a face, sighing.

"Aunt Elspeth, is there an Internet connection in the house?" I asked sheepishly, chewing my lip. "I just remembered I hadn't checked my mail since I got here, and my best friend might think I got lost or something like that if I don't reply her messages." Aunt Elspeth laughed, probably amused by my expression, and nodded.

"Of course there is, dear: I got it installed years ago. I might be old, but that doesn't mean I don't want to keep pace with the times. You can use the phone jack by your desk."

I nodded and thanked her, quickly pushing the boxes of books in my room with a crutch and switching my computer on. The server was a little slow, but it didn't bother me: while I waited I pushed a chair by the bookshelf and opened the first box, putting my beloved books in place. I felt relieved having them there, they were familiar, with their battered covers and slightly crumpled pages.

A faint beep told me the computer had found the connection, so I opened my mail, nervously biting my lip. There were three incoming messages, each shorter than the previous.

Dear Hermione,

How was the flight? I bet you slept the whole way there, thirteen hours seem like an eternity on a plane.

How is England? Is it how you expected? Better? Worse? I looked at Ottery St Catchpole with GoogleMaps, and it looked a very nice place, with a lot of green around it; it's quite small, but I like it. But you know it better than me, since you are there now. And the house? And your aunt? Sorry for all of those questions, but I'm just curious: it's the first time we don't visit someplace together, and I want to know everything about what you think of Old England. This way it's almost like I'm there too, isn't it?

I miss you, Mione! I have lost my older sister, my best friend and my confident altogether! I can't believe I won't see you until Christmas break! That's not fair! But I hope you don't miss me that much: it sucks, really.

Mum and Dad told me to say hi to you and Emmy; they hope you are alright and that you don't miss home too much.

Tommy has stayed in his room the whole day, do you know that? He didn't want me to come in, but I suspect he has been crying: you know how much he was attached to Emma, he misses her like crazy. I think the little prankster has a crush on your baby sister, by the way: I have never seen him so sad and silent.

Write me back soon!

Love and hugs,

Lav

Dear Hermione,

Today is Sunday, the day we usually took little Em and Tommy to the park and chatted while they ran around and played. It's sunny -what a surprise!-, but Tom is still in his room, and I don't want to go alone.

Have I already said I miss you? Probably yes, but I'll say it again: I miss you, big sister. Who will I talk to now that you are gone to the other side of the world? Who will tell me I am a dummy when I do something very stupid, or shush me when I start to babble senseless and become too bubbly, or talk me out of some stupid crush I have on some stupid boy who dumped me?

But I am such a selfish person: I bet you are feeling much worse than me, all alone in foreign land, without anyone to talk to. So if you can't talk, write! And soon, because I am going crazy not knowing how you are!

Hugs and kisses,

XOXO Lav XOXO

Dear Mione,

How are you? Today school without you was hell: I sat alone in every class and now I am having lunch (alone) in the IT classroom -I'm using one of the school's computers to write to you now-.

The teachers miss you a lot -you were the top of our year, of course they miss you!- and Miss Montgomery told me to say hi to you. The woman absolutely adores you, she said no one could write best essays for her English class.

Tommy is better, at least he came out of his room today, so it's a start. But he is still very quiet, and he doesn't even play with his noisy videogames. He misses his best bud too much to have fun without her.

But why haven't you wrote back yet? I am starting to get worried! If you don't reply soon, I swear I will phone the American Consulateto denounce you as missing!

Write!

Lav

I sighed and replied quickly, trying to calm her.

Lav,

I am sorry, but I got no time to breathe -or to check my mail- these days.

I am alright though, so don't worry, I am alive. More or less.

H

I sent the short message, and then wrote a longer mail where I told her everything about the house and my aunt, the town and, above all, about how amazing, incredible and…magic Hogwarts was.

I told her about the sorting, about Dumbledore and Snape, and described Professor Trelawney in the detail, wondering what she would have thought of her; but I didn't tell her of Luna and Ginny, and of Ron, who had introduced himself sending me a note in Art Languages and who had been so kind to me when we talked after the lesson.

I didn't know why I didn't want to tell her; maybe because I was afraid she would have felt betrayed if I had already made friends here, or because I didn't want to sound so carefree and happy when she obviously was missing me a lot more than I was missing her. I felt guilty for that, but there was nothing I could do to change things.

I sent the mail, and then went back to my books, neatly placing them on the shelves and singing softly to myself, smiling and thinking again about how life seemed to be so wonderful since I came to England.

Ron's POV:

I ran outside, in delay for football practice as always, my bag bouncing on my back as I sped to the field. I skidded to a halt in the changing room, breathless, and my teammates laughed as they greeted me.

"Hey, Ron. Late as always, huh?" asked Dean Thomas, grinning.

"Aww…Is ickle Ronniekins late again?" I glared at my brother as he flashed a huge smile at me, kicking him as I passed.

"Very funny, Fred," I said bitterly, almost throwing my bag in my locker.

"Aw, c'mon, little brother, just kidding," said George, ruffling his hair and smiling identically as his twin was already doing. I hated when they acted like that.

"Were you just kidding this morning too, when neither of you came to wake me up?" I asked not looking at them, quickly changing into my football uniform. They shrugged simultaneously, looking more identical than ever.

"It's not our fault," started Fred.

"If you sleep as soundly as a troll," finished George.

Perfect, now they were starting ending each other's sentences again. I ignored them, smashing my locker shut and running out, wanting to get away from them. They were only a year older than me, but they always treated me like a little kid, especially in front of others. I knew they did it just to joke, but when you had five older brothers who treated you like that, it starts to get really annoying.

"Hey, mate, how did it go?" Harry asked, plopping down on a bench next to me. I shrugged, looking down at my feet.

"What?" I asked, rubbing the side of my trainer to clean it from a bit of dirt. Harry scoffed, ruffling his hair.

"Did you talk to her?" I smiled, looking up, and felt my ears warm up a little -I knew I had blushed, but I ignored it-.

"Yes, I did." He grinned, lightly punching my shoulder.

"So, what do you think?" he asked as our teammates started to get out onto the field. I smiled sheepishly, getting up.

"Dunno. She's pretty shy, but really nice. And smart, a lot: I mean, she has Latin. And she thinks Trelawney is totally mad, so she's ok." I looked up to the cloudy sky, thinking for a moment.

"But she looked a little sad, you know. Ginny told me her parents died a few weeks ago in a car crash; she survived, but got injured pretty badly. And now she is here, living with an aunt she didn't even know and with a little sister to take care of. It mustn't be easy for her." Harry smiled and nodded, pushing me forward towards the others.

"We'll help her with that, mate. I bet we will become good friends in no time." I rolled my eyes, but smiled.

I hoped he was right.

I had just finished putting my things away when the doorbell rang downstairs. I went to the staircase, curious to see who it was since it was almost dinnertime, and I smiled when I saw Emma sitting on one of the lower steps, spying intently into the hall.

"Who is it?" I asked her softly, standing by her. She made a face, wrinkling her nose.

"A woman, I saw her coming from my window. Blonde, with red funny glasses." She waited for a moment, then added: "I don't like her the littlest bit." Just then Aunt Elspeth called us downstairs; she sounded a little annoyed, though.

"Hermione, Emma, come down! There is an old friend of your father come to meet you!" Was it my impression or she had spoken the word friend with heavy sarcasm? I stumbled down, Emma close at my side, and looked at the woman with a mixture of incredulity, amusement and dislike.

Her bright blonde hair was set in unnaturally rigid curls, contrasting strongly with her heavy-jawed face. She was wearing acid-green jacket and skirt, and she was clutching a crocodile handbag just a shade darker than her clothes. I noticed her nails were two inches long and painted a dark crimson, matching her jewelled, butterfly-shaped spectacles.

"Oh, you must be Hermione," she said, jumping forward and grabbing my arm, almost knocking me over. I pushed away from her, wanting to put some distance between us.

"Yes, I am," I said coldly, not even trying to be kind or polite.

"And this little girl must be your sister: so cuuute!" she said, pinching Emma's cheek. Emma looked at her in open dislike and didn't say a single word.

"My name is Rita Skeeter, I am the founder of our local gazette." She flashed a brilliant smile at me, and I saw at least three gold teeth behind her bright red lips.

"I'll go make some tea," said Aunt Elspeth, looking coldly at her and heading to the kitchen. She didn't like that woman, I was one hundred per cent sure.

"So, can I ask you a few questions?" said Rita Skeeter, taking my arm again and dragging me to the sofa. I plopped down heavily, trying to look the less collaborative possible, and Emma climbed up with me, curling up into my side.

"Why?" I asked, putting an arm around my sister. Rita Skeeter smiled again.

"But for a small interview, of course!" she said, like it was something obvious.

"Wouldn't it be nice if I wrote a few lines about you? Just another way to welcome you in our town."

I didn't think it was nice at all, but before I could agree or say anything she took a block-notes and a pen from her handbag and settled down in the armchair in front of us.

"So, Hermione…what do you think of our England?" I tried to smile: maybe she really wanted to do that to be kind.

"Well, it's wonderful. Different from where I used to live, but still very charming, with all of this space and green around." She scribbled something quickly as I spoke, and I tried to ignore it.

"Of course it must be hard for you, becoming an orphan at the age of fifteen…"

"Seventeen," I corrected her quietly, forcing another smile. She got on like I hadn't talked.

"…Such a great loss. Do you miss your parents a lot?" I glared at her, getting really annoyed.

"Of course I do!" I almost shouted, losing my temper. "What do you think? That I am happy I will never see them again for the rest of my life?" She looked at me with a sympathetic look on her face, and shook her head, still writing. I looked at her block notes, and I felt my face getting hot with angriness.

Hermione Granger, fifteen, says she is so happy to be here in England, where everything is so different from the poorness of the city she had lived before. Mentioning her parents, her eyes fill with tears, and she says she hopes they are fine, wherever they are, and that they are watching her right now.

"I didn't say any of that!" I said hotly, resisting the urge to snap the block notes from her hands. She shrugged.

"And, tell me, how did it happen? I know your father was driving when you had the accident, and I can't help but thinking: was he drunk then?" I felt my blood boil with indignation.

"Are you saying my father was an alcoholic, or that he would have been that irresponsible?" I said, now really wanting to hit her, hard. She glared at me, her eyes turning cold.

"Your father wasn't that saint you think, sweetheart, you have to make a reason of that. He was just a liar and a-" I cut her off, jumping to my feet with a strength I didn't know I had.

"He was a good man!" I snarled, my heart pounding in my chest. How dared she, coming here, into my house, to insult my father? If she thought she would have gone away with that, she was really wrong.

I took her arm and dragged her with me, stumbling to the hall and holding onto the wall to prevent myself from falling, but refusing to use my crutches. I would have done it alone.

"Out," I said quietly, glaring at the woman before me. "Now."

I snatched the block notes from her hands and threw it at Emma, who caught it.

"And this stays with us."

Rita looked outraged, and I felt pleased with myself at that. I opened the door and gestured for her to step out of it.

"If I see even a single word about me, or my parents, or anyone in my family on your gazette, I swear I will sue you with the accuse of defamation and privacy violation," I warned her coldly as she exited, her nose up in the air.

Then I closed the door right in her face, leaving out her and any comment or insult she wanted to throw at me or my family.

When I turned, Emma looked like she was suppressing laughter, sniggering behind her hand, and Aunt Elspeth, on the kitchen door, was looking at me mesmerized. I made a face at her.

"Sorry, Aunt," I said, blushing slightly and leaning in the wall, my legs suddenly feeling wobbly and weak.

"I shouldn't have thrown her out like that, but she had really crossed the line with what she had said." To my surprise, she laughed.

"You are sorry? It was about time someone did that to her! That woman is unbearably nosy, gossiping and malicious, no one can stand her anymore, she and her hateful behaviour! I know people who would want to duct-tape that large, malevolent mouth of hers and just throw her in some shed to stop her from meddling in other people's business! If you hadn't thrown her out, I would have done so in the next five minutes!" I laughed along with her, feeling relieved and light hearted that I had apparently done the right thing.

But somewhere in the back of my mind Rita Skeeter's words still burned: Your father wasn't that saint you think, sweetheart, you have to make a reason of that. He was just a liar.

And I couldn't help but wondering what she knew about him that made her say so.