Chapter 4

Hermione found herself standing in a small room off the Great Hall with a stern looking witch, her gray hair in a tight bun, wearing a green pointed witch's hat. Next to her was a stool housing a, well, she supposed at some point it was a hat, but now it looked to be a pile of old brown leather.

"That's going to sort me into my new house?" Hermione asked, clarifying, just containing herself from poking the lump with her toe, because surely this was a joke.

"I assure you Ms. Granger, this is anything but a joke. Now take a seat to be sorted unless you'd like to join the first year's sorting." The woman, Professor McGonagall, said, looking over the rim of her glasses.

"You wouldn't," Hermione said, taken aback. The look the woman gave her, however, told her that she would in fact. That was all the motivation Hermione needed to lift the rags, drop onto the stool, and thrust the hat on top of her head.

Ah, well you aren't one of my first years looking to be sorted…

The voice in her mind made Hermione jump. The hat was so large that she couldn't see anything, so instead of looking more foolish she kept her gaze ahead.

A transfer student I see, how unusual. We don't typically have those, you see. It's been nearly twenty years since the last one, and he was only a second year. Not a seventh year…how odd.

'Yes, well if you don't mind moving this along. I don't particularly fancy sitting here talking to a hat in my mind.' Hermione thought, realizing that the voice was coming from said hat on her head.

Very well, if you insist…

The hat trailed off and went silent as it went to work.

You'd do well in any of the houses, I do believe Gryffindor–

'If you put me in that house with Ronald Weasley and force me to watch him consume breakfast for an entire year, I'll burn you and scatter the ashes so no one can transfigure you back to a hat.'

At first, Gryffindor had been the house Hermione had thought she'd wanted to be placed in. Harry was a Gryffindor, and while it would have been nice to be with her brother, a certain redhead ruined that idea. When he walked up with his bright red prefects badge pinned to his robes (crooked) and having seemed to have lost his tie as well, Hermione decided there was no way in the depths of hell she wanted to share a living space with him.

Not very Hufflepuff…better make it…

"RAVENCLAW!" The hat shouted aloud, even though it was only Hermione and Professor McGonagall in the room, making the flare highly unnecessary. The hat was lifted away from Hermione, and she had to blink as her eyes readjusted to the light in the room.

"Very well, here we are," the elderly witch said, pulling her wand from her sleeve and tapping Hermione's tie and then badge. The blue and bronze appeared, clearly labeling her new house. "What house were you at Ilvermorny?"

"Horned Serpent," Hermione said, raising her chin slightly with a smirk on her face.

"Hm, yes, you'll fit right in with the Ravenclaws. Your head of house will be Professor Flitwick, he's the charms professor. You can meet with him tomorrow to go over all your class options to build your new schedule. Now if you'll excuse me, you might be able to slip into a seat without anyone paying too much attention to you." With a firm nod in Hermione's direction, the woman turned and left the room, her robes swishing around her ankles as she went.

Opening the opposite door, Hermione peered into the Great Hall, happy to see that not everyone was seated. Slipping out from the room, she slipped into the crowd of the other students, heading towards those with the blue and bronze ties. When she passed Harry, he looked up and began to wave her in his direction. Upon seeing the color of her tie, his face seemed to drop a little, only to shrug, as if trying to act like he didn't care she wasn't in his house. She mouthed, 'I'll find you after,' towards him and he nodded before turning back to his group of friends.

When she finally reached the long table, Hermione slid into a seat at the end furthest from the head table. Might as well put as much distance as she could between herself and the sorting ceremony. When she looked up, however, she thought she might rather have ridden in the boats across the lake.

There sat, staring at her with narrowed gray eyes, the same blonde she'd just seen on the train. Yes, she'd much rather be drowning in that god forsaken lake right about now.