Hermione awoke the following day refreshed and excited to head back to Hogwarts. Nothing else could have raised her spirits like going back to school and learning as much as possible about all things Wizarding World- including House Elves.
Unfortunately, the others didn't seem to share her excitement. There was a definite end-of-the-holidays gloom in the air as the Weasleys and Harry did some last-minute packing for the trip back to Hogwarts. As Hermione folded her school robes (she'd change into them on the Hogwarts Express), she heard Mrs Weasley bellowing up the staircase.
"Arthur!" she yelled. "Arthur! Urgent message from the Ministry!"
Hermione ran out of the room and followed Mr Weasley down the staircase. She nearly ran into the boys on the first-floor landing, but together, they all joined Mr and Mrs Weasley in the kitchen. Mrs Weasley was rummaging anxiously in the dresser drawers. "I've got a quill here somewhere!" she was muttering.
Hermione's eyes shifted to Mr Weasley, who was bending over the fire, talking to… himself? Hermione leaned forward for a better look and nearly fell back in shock. There, in the middle of the flames, Amos Diggory's head was just floating there, talking incredibly fast. He seemed wholly unperturbed by the sparks flying around him and the fire flicking his ears.
"...Muggle neighbours heard bangs and shouting, so they went and called those what-d'you-call-'ems- please men. Arthur, you've got to get over there-"
"Here!" said Mrs Weasley breathlessly, pushing a piece of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a crumpled quill into Mr Weasley's hands.
"...it's a real stroke of luck I heard about it," continued Mr Diggory's head. "I had come into the office early to send a couple of owls, and I found the Improper Use of Magic lot all setting off. If Rita Skeeter gets hold of this one, Arthur…"
"What does Mad-Eye say happened?" asked Mr Weasley, unscrewing the bottle of ink and loading up his quill to take notes.
Hermione watched Mr Diggory's head roll its eyes. "Says he heard an intruder in his yard. Says they were creeping towards the house, but they were ambushed by his dustbins."
"What did the dustbins do?" asked Mr Weasley, scribbling frantically.
"Made one hell of a noise and fired rubbish everywhere, as far as I can tell," said Mr Diggory. "Apparently one of them was still rocketing around when the please men turned up."
Mr Weasley groaned. "And what about the intruder?"
"Arthur, you know Mad-Eye," said Mr Diggory. "Someone creeping into his yard in the dead of night? More likely, there's a very shell-shocked cat wandering around somewhere covered in potato peelings. But, if the Improper Use of Magic lot get their hands on Mad-Eye, he's had it. Think of his record! We've got to get him off on a minor charge, something in your department. What are exploding dustbins worth?"
"Might be a caution," said Mr Weasley, still writing very fast, his brow furrowed. "Mad-Eye didn't use his wand? He didn't actually attack anyone?"
"I'll bet he leapt out of bed and started jinxing everything he could reach through the window," said Mr Diggory, "but they'll have a job proving it. There aren't any casualties."
"All right, I'm off," Mr Weasley said, and he stuffed the parchment with his notes on it into his pocket and dashed out of the kitchen again.
Mr Diggory's head looked around at Mrs Weasley.
"Sorry about this, Molly," he said, more calmly, "bothering you so early and everything... but Arthur's the only one who can get Mad-Eye off, and Mad-Eye's supposed to be starting his new job today. Why he had to choose last night…"
"Never mind, Amos," said Mrs Weasley. "Sure you won't have a bit of toast or anything before you go?"
"Oh, go on, then," said Mr Diggory.
Mrs Weasley took a piece of buttered toast from a stack on the kitchen table, put it into the fire tongs, and, much to Hermione's shock, transferred it into Mr Diggory's mouth.
"Fanks," he said in a muffled voice and then vanished with a small pop.
Mr Weasley rushed around the house, trying to get ready to go into the office while wishing all of the kids goodbye. "I'd better hurry. You have a good term, boys," Mr Weasley said to the twins. He threw a cloak over his shoulders and prepared to Disapparate. "Molly, are you going to be all right taking the kids to King's Cross?"
"Of course, I will," she said. "You just look after Mad-Eye. We'll be fine."
As Mr Weasley vanished, Bill and Charlie entered the kitchen.
"Did someone say Mad-Eye?" Bill asked. "What's he been up to now?"
"He says someone tried to break into his house last night," said Mrs Weasley.
"Mad-Eye Moody?" said George thoughtfully, spreading marmalade on his toast. "Isn't he that nutter –"
"Your father thinks very highly of Mad-Eye Moody," said Mrs Weasley sternly.
"Yeah, well, Dad collects plugs, doesn't he?" said Fred quietly as Mrs Weasley left the room. "Birds of a feather…"
"Moody was a great wizard in his time," said Bill.
"He's an old friend of Dumbledore's, isn't he?" said Charlie.
"Dumbledore's not what you'd call normal, though, is he?" said Fred. "I mean, I know he's a genius and everything…"
"Who is Mad-Eye?" asked Harry.
"He's retired, used to work at the Ministry," said Charlie. "I met him once when Dad took me in to work with him. He was an Auror – one of the best - a Dark-wizard-catcher," he added. "Half the cells in Azkaban are full because of him. He made himself loads of enemies, though; the families of people he caught, mainly .. and I heard he's been getting really paranoid in his old age. Doesn't trust anyone anymore. Sees Dark wizards everywhere."
Soon, it was time to go. Unfortunately for the poor Muggle taxi drivers, Bill and Charlie decided to come to King's Cross for old times' sake. It took three large taxis to carry the party of nine with all of their luggage, owls, cats, and Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Hermione was surprised the poor cabbies didn't drive off without them after Fred's trunk sprang open, releasing several Dr Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat fireworks, which promptly went off. Not only was the driver completely caught off guard, but Crookshanks clawed his way up the man's leg.
The journey was one of the worst Hermione ever had to King's Cross. Crookshanks took such a long time to recover from the shock of the fireworks that, by the time they finally arrived, Hermione, Harry, and Ron were covered in scratches. A torrential downpour greeted them as they finally arrived and soaked them to the bones as they unloaded the taxis.
Wet, miserable, and tired, they decided to enter the barrier of Platform nine and three-quarters in groups so as not to attract the attention of Muggles. Hermione, Ron, and Harry went first with their trunks, owls, and Crookshanks and inconspicuously leant against the barrier and slid sideways through it. As they did so, platform nine and three-quarters materialised around them.
As wet and miserable as she felt, Hermione couldn't help but smile broadly. She was almost home. The Hogwarts Express, a gleaming scarlet steam engine, sat regally in the station, steam billowing from it. Hundreds of Hogwarts students and parents on the platform were milling about in different stages of stress. Some seemed as excited as Hermione, and others appeared as disappointed as Harry and Ron. Most of the parents, however, looked relieved to be finally dropping off their young Witches and Wizards after a long summer holiday.
Hermione, Harry, and Ron ran to find seats and stow their luggage in a compartment. They finally found some room for both in a compartment halfway down the train. Once their luggage was secure and their pets were saving their seats in the compartment, they hopped back down onto the platform to say goodbye to Mrs Weasley, Bill, and Charlie.
"I might be seeing you all sooner than you think," said Charlie, grinning, as he hugged Ginny goodbye.
"Why?" Fred asked.
"You'll see," said Charlie. "Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it. It's 'classified information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it' after all."
"Yeah, I sort of wish I was back at Hogwarts this year," said Bill, hands in his pockets, looking almost wistfully at the train.
"Why?" said George impatiently.
"You're going to have an interesting year," said Bill, his eyes twinkling. "I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it."
"A bit of what?" said Ron.
But at that moment, the whistle blew, and Mrs Weasley chivvied them towards the train doors.
"Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs Weasley," said Hermione with a smile as they climbed on board, closed the door, and leaned out the window to talk to her.
"Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs Weasley," said Harry.
"Oh, it was my pleasure, dears," said Mrs Weasley. "I'd invite you for Christmas, but, well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with one thing and another."
"Mum!" said Ron irritably. "What d'you three know that we don't?"
"You'll find out this evening, I expect," said Mrs Weasley, smiling. "It's going to be very exciting. Mind you, I'm very glad they've changed the rules –"
"What rules?" said Harry, Ron, Fred and George together.
"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you. Now, behave, won't you? Won't you, Fred? And you, George?"
The pistons hissed loudly, and the train began to move.
"Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts!" Fred bellowed out of the window as Mrs Weasley, Bill and Charlie sped away from them. "What rules are they changing?"
But Mrs Weasley only smiled and waved. Before the train had rounded the corner, she, Bill, and Charlie had Disapparated.
Hermione tried to search the recesses of her brain for a lost piece of Hogwarts' trivia that could explain Mrs Weasley, Bill, and Charlie's behaviour. Obviously, it was something "gaming" related since Ludo Bagman was involved. Likewise, international relations were definitely at play.
She resolved to pull out her favourite book, Hogwarts A History when they returned to the compartment. The rain splattering the windows made it very difficult for them to see out of them, which was a massive disappointment to Hermione, who rather liked watching the English countryside race by.
As Hermione started hunting for her book, Ron tossed things around in his trunk. Finally, without much flourish, he pulled the most atrocious ugly maroon fabric out of his trunk and threw it over Pigwidgeon's cage to muffle his hooting.
Ron fell into his seat with a huff. "Bagman wanted to tell us what's happening at Hogwarts," he said grumpily. "At the World Cup, remember? But my own mother won't say. Wonder what –"
But Hermione wasn't paying him any attention. She had heard a familiar drawling voice from the next compartment over. "Shhh!" she whispered suddenly, pressing her finger to her lips and pointing. Harry and Ron went over to listen with her.
"...Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the Headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore - the man is such a Mudblood lover - and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riff-raff. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defence rubbish we do…."
Hermione had heard enough. She got up, tiptoed to the compartment door, and slid it shut, blocking out Malfoy's infuriating voice.
"So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?" she snarled. "I wish he had gone. Then we wouldn't have had to put up with him."
"Durmstrang's another wizarding school?" said Harry.
"Yes," said Hermione, trying not to roll her eyes at Harry's lack of Wizarding World knowledge. "And it's got a horrible reputation. According to An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, it puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts."
"I think I've heard of it," said Ron vaguely. "Where is it? What country?"
"Well, nobody knows, do they?" said Hermione, raising her eyebrows.
"Er – why not?" said Harry.
"There's traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal their secrets," said Hermione.
"Come off it," said Ron, starting to laugh. "Durmstrang's got to be about the same size as Hogwarts. How are you going to hide a dirty great castle?"
"But Hogwarts is hidden," said Hermione. "Everyone knows that. Well, everyone who's read Hogwarts: A History, anyway."
"Just you, then," said Ron. Hermione gave him a look. "So go on – how d'you hide a place like Hogwarts?"
"It's bewitched," said Hermione. "If a Muggle looks at it, all they see is a mouldering old ruin with a sign over the entrance saying DANGER, DO NOT ENTER, UNSAFE." Hermione's parents confirmed this when they visited her while she was petrified during their second year.
"So Durmstrang'll just look like a ruin to an outsider, too?"
"Maybe," said Hermione, shrugging. "Or it might have Muggle-Repelling Charms on it, like the World Cup Stadium. And to keep foreign wizards from finding it, they'll have made it Unplottable –"
"Come again?"
"Well, you can enchant a building, so it's impossible to plot on a map, can't you?"
"Er... if you say so," said Harry.
"But I think Durmstrang must be somewhere in the far north," said Hermione thoughtfully. "Somewhere very cold because they've got fur capes as part of their uniforms."
"Ah, think of the possibilities," said Ron dreamily. "It would've been so easy to push Malfoy off a glacier and make it look like an accident... shame his mother likes him."
They sat in silence for a bit, interrupted by the lunch trolley. Harry bought a large stack of Cauldron Cakes for them to share. Pigwidgeon must have smelled them because she started to fly wildly about her cage under the fabric.
"What on earth is that, by the way?" Hermione asked, pointing to whatever it was that Ron had thrown over Pigwidgeon's cage when they first entered the compartment.
"Apparently, my bloody dress robes," Ron spat.
"That's… unfortunate," Hermione giggled.
"Unfortunate?!" Ron exclaimed. "I can think of a hell of a lot more words than 'unfortunate' to describe that bloody thing."
"I wonder why we'll be needing dress robes?" Harry asked.
"Probably has to do with whatever is happening at Hogwarts this year," Hermione mused. "How bad are your dress robes?"
Harry blushed and looked down. "Mrs Weasley got me new ones," he said.
Hermione immediately felt horrible. She knew Ron was quite sensitive to his family's lack of money, and Harry getting new dress robes when Ron had to get those hideous ones was probably a bone of contention.
Luckily for her, their conversation was interrupted by Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom coming to visit their compartment. Seamus, Dean, Ron, and Harry immediately started recounting every single second of the Quidditch World Cup. Neville, a round-faced, extremely forgetful boy who had been brought up by his formidable witch of a grandmother, was less interested in the match and engaged with Hermione instead. Hermione always had a soft spot in her heart for Neville because he was her first-ever friend at Hogwarts.
"How was your summer holiday?!" Neville asked after giving Hermione an excited hug.
"It wasn't too bad," Hermione said. "I'm excited to be going back to Hogwarts, of course. How about yours?"
"Would've been better had my gran got tickets to the Quidditch World Cup," Neville replied with an envious glance towards the other four boys.
"You didn't miss much," Hermione said. "I honestly thought the match would have gone on much longer. With how expensive the tickets were, I'm surprised there weren't more people complaining for their money back, not to mention the riot afterwards."
"I am glad I missed that," Neville said. "It sounded terrifying in the Daily Prophet."
Hermione shuddered involuntarily. "It really was."
Neville leaned forward and gave her a huge hug. Hermione hadn't realised how much she needed it. She could feel herself calming in his friendly embrace. "You always know how to make me feel better," Hermione said, smiling. "Thank you."
"Any time," Neville said with a warm smile.
"How's your gran otherwise?" Hermione asked.
"She's the same," Neville said with a sarcastic chuckle. "Mean as hell and proud as can be. Besides skipping the Quidditch World Cup, we had an eventful summer full of practising magic."
Magic had never come naturally to Neville, unfortunately. For most of his childhood, his family thought he was a Squib- a non-magical person with Wizarding parents.
"Oh, brilliant!" Hermione exclaimed. "I bet you'll have an easy go of it this year!"
"Doubtful, but thanks for the vote of confidence," Neville smiled. "Not like I could ever catch up with the likes of you in school."
"Don't be daft," Hermione said. "You're much better at Herbology than I am. We just have different academic strengths." Hermione knew she was a much stronger student than Neville, but she didn't want him to start the year already doubting himself.
They chatted for a few more minutes until Neville's attention was stolen by Harry finally noticing Neville and asking him if he went to the Quidditch World Cup. Hermione knew the Quidditch World Cup conversation would be yet another spirited retelling with some offensive jokes sprinkled here and there and decided to do something much more productive. She pulled out her copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, and started to study the Summoning Charm as the boys blathered on about sportsball.
"Gran didn't want to go," he said to Harry and Ron miserably. "Wouldn't buy tickets. It sounded amazing, though."
"It was," Ron said. "Look at this, Neville!"
He rummaged in his trunk up in the luggage rack and pulled out the miniature figure of Viktor Krum. Hermione glanced up and rolled her eyes.
"Oh, wow," said Neville enviously as Ron tipped Krum onto his chubby hand.
"We saw him right up close, as well," said Ron. "We were in the Top Box –"
"For the first and last time in your life, Weasley."
Draco Malfoy had appeared in the doorway. Behind him stood Crabbe and Goyle, his enormous, thuggish cronies, both of whom appeared to have grown at least a foot during the summer. Evidently, they had overheard the conversation through the compartment door, which Dean and Seamus had left ajar.
"Don't remember asking you to join us, Malfoy," said Harry coolly.
"Weasley, what is that?" said Malfoy, pointing at Pigwidgeon's cage. A sleeve of Ron's dress robes was dangling from it, swaying with the train's motion, the mouldy lace cuff very obvious.
Ron made to stuff the robes out of sight, but Malfoy was too quick for him; he seized the sleeve and pulled. Hermione knew this wasn't going to be good.
"Look at this!" said Malfoy in ecstasy, holding up Ron's robes and showing Crabbe and Goyle. "Weasley, you weren't thinking of wearing these, were you? I mean… they were very fashionable… in about 1890!"
"Eat dung, Malfoy!" said Ron, the same colour as the dress robes, as he snatched them back out of Malfoy's grip. Malfoy howled with derisive laughter; Crabbe and Goyle guffawed stupidly.
"So, going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There's money involved as well, you know. You'd be able to afford some decent robes if you won."
"What are you talking about?" snapped Ron.
"Are you going to enter?" Malfoy repeated. "I suppose you will, Potter? You never miss a chance to show off, do you?"
"Either explain what you're on about or go away, Malfoy," said Hermione testily, over the top of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4.
A gleeful smile spread across Malfoy's pale face. "Don't tell me you don't know?" he said delightedly. "You've got a father and brother at the Ministry, and you don't even know? My God, my father told me about it ages ago; heard it from Cornelius Fudge. But then, Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry. Maybe your father's too junior to know about it, Weasley. Yes, they probably don't talk about important stuff in front of him."
Laughing once more, Malfoy beckoned to Crabbe and Goyle, and the three of them disappeared.
Ron got to his feet and slammed the sliding compartment door so hard behind them that the glass shattered.
"Ron!" said Hermione, pullout out her wand and muttering, "Reparo." The glass shards flew back into a single pane and back into the door.
"Well, making it look like he knows everything and we don't…" Ron snarled. "'Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry.' Dad could've gotten a promotion at any time. He just likes it where he is!"
"Of course he does," said Hermione quietly. "Don't let Malfoy get to you, Ron."
"Him! Get to me! As if!" said Ron, picking up one of the remaining Cauldron Cakes and squashing it into a pulp.
Hermione was afraid that she had been the impetus for this meltdown with her comments about Ron's dress robes (which were then repeated, albeit with much more malice, by Draco). She honestly didn't understand why his family's financial status meant so much to him. There was no rational explanation for it. His family was pretty much near perfect, regardless of income. They were kind, compassionate, welcoming, and understanding. They were everything Hermione wished her family would be. If only she could get Ron to understand that, though she knew better than to attempt to reason with him when he was as worked up as he was.
Ron's bad mood continued for the rest of the journey. He didn't talk much as they changed into their school robes, and was still scowling when the Hogwarts Express slowed down at last. Finally, the giant steam engine and compartments rolled to a stop in the inky darkness of Hogsmeade Station.
Even Ron's mood and the weather couldn't dull Hermione's excitement deep down in her core. She was home.
As the train doors opened, there was a deep rumble of thunder overhead. Hermione bundled Crookshanks up in her cloak, and Ron left his dress robes over Pigwidgeon as they left the train, heads bent against the downpour. The rain was now coming down so heavily that it felt as though buckets of ice-cold water were being emptied on their heads.
A large, lumbering shape appeared at the end of the platform. "Hi, Hagrid!" Harry yelled. Hermione attempted to wave but nearly dropped Crookshanks in the process.
"All righ' Harry?" Hagrid bellowed back, waving. "See yeh at the feast if we don' drown!"
Rubius Hagrid was the Keeper of the Keys and Grounds of Hogwarts and their Care of Magical Creatures professor. But, most importantly, he was their good friend. Hagrid was always there to offer help whenever they needed it. Hermione didn't necessarily think he was the best professor they could have, but she knew that he genuinely cared about all the magical creatures he taught them about. Hagrid's other responsibility was to ferry the first-year students across the lake to the castle, which, in this weather, sounded absolutely dreadful.
"Oooh, I wouldn't fancy crossing the lake in this weather," said Hermione fervently, shivering as they inched slowly along the dark platform with the rest of the crowd. She had hoped to engage Ron in a mindless conversation about the weather to get his mind off of Malfoy's ignorance, but Ron just half nodded in agreement without engaging.
A hundred horseless carriages stood waiting for them outside the station. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville climbed gratefully into one of them. The door shut with a snap, and a few moments later, with a great lurch, the long procession of carriages was rumbling and splashing its way up the track towards Hogwarts Castle.