"Trevor!"
"I got him!" Hermione shouted diving for the toad.
She had a hold of the round-faced boy's toad for about half a second before the bloody thing leapt from her hands and out of the compartment. There she was on her stomach, her reaching hands empty. The girls on the bench opposite them giggled relentlessly as she got to her knees and she turned to the boy.
She couldn't be certain which of the two of them they were laughing at. The boy's round face pinked and his blue eyes threatened to brim over. Hermione had a chance to make a friend here and she completely blew it! He seemed so upset, she just wanted to fix it.
"I got this!" she leapt to her feet. "I promise!"
"Looks like the hairball has a thing for big fat cry-babies!" Pansy Parkinson cackled.
The blond girl and the brown-haired girl on either side of her giggled harder.
"That was uncalled for!" one of the dark-skinned twin girls snapped.
The other blonde girl in between the two twins stopped giggling after both girls shot her a withering glance.
"Ignore them," Hermione squeaked, taking the boy's hands. "I'll take the back end, you take the front. We'll cover more ground that way. Besides," Hermione cast a withering glance at Pansy Parkinson. "I can barely hear myself think over that Banshee's wail that qualifies for laughter. Honestly, I'd rather listen to a banshee."
"I'm Neville Longbottom," the boy said after they left the compartment, his eyes still downcast.
"Hermione," she smiled. "And we'll find your toad, Trevor, was it?"
"Yeah," he said.
Hermione stalked the narrow corridors between the compartments before swallowing her fear and knocking on each of the compartment doors.
"Aren't you Snape's brat?" asked an older Gryffindor girl.
"Katie," A boy with dreadlocks rolled his eyes-Lee Jordan that was his name.
"Can you blame me?" she hissed, obviously unaware Hermione could hear. "Her father's a complete monster and she probably is too!"
Lee Jordan sighed and turned to Hermione. "Was there something you needed?"
"I-er-I" she gulped and turned her gaze to her feet. "Aboylostatoadhaveyouseenone."
"I-what?" answered a tall girl with long black hair. "Could you repeat that?"
Hermione repeated herself after a deep breath and focused on her words. The interaction was both embarrassing and fruitless as they hadn't seen the toad. She wished she could purge it from her memory. She'd read enough about self-memory augmentation to know that was nothing more than a fever dream. The girl named Katie was not the only one to recognize her of the upper year students. None of them were particularly kind or patient. One of the cruellest stood out to her.
All the other compartments so far had been full, but this one only had two third year Slytherin students. One she believed was named Heather George, a girl who seemed popular and keen on picking on the vulnerable from what little Hermione saw. She once heard her say: "I feel just awful for the poor thing, she's a wee bit of a social retard".
The other was a boy with long red hair that sat opposite her that Hermione recognized from somewhere. She must have seen him around.
"Oh my God," Heather George laughed. "You aren't starting school this year? Oh daddy's ickle labradoodle is in for a hell of a time."
"Why are you even here?" the Irish boy groaned. "Was everywhere else full or did you finally realize being seen within three metres of you is social suicide?"
"I-erm-" Hermione wanted to find her spine again, but after countless interactions like that she simply couldn't. Sorry, Dad, looks like you did raise a withering wall-flower.
"O'Malley," Heather George said. "Don't torment the pathetic thing."
Hermione left. If the two saw the toad they probably would have burnt the thing alive just to watch it burn. Small wonder her father kept her locked in her room (more or less) for the past eleven years. They were going to eat her alive!
"You can do this," Hermione told herself under her breath, staring back into her own red-rimmed eyes. "You're supposed to be clever, fix this!"
She ran off to the toilet after that last compartment to compose herself. If she kept her head down and her hair in her face, it might not look like she'd run off to cry. I am so pathetic! This was hardly acceptable behaviour and she knew it. She just had to get out there and find the damn toad. Sure, once Neville found out who she was he wouldn't come within three metres of her. But she gave him her word, and Hermione was a lot of awful things, but she was also someone who kept her damn promises.
Finally, more first years! Hermione knocked and slid open the compartment to see two boys her age in muggle clothes surrounded by an assortment of sweets.
"Sorry," she said quietly. "But-er-have either of you guys seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one."
"Sorry," the dark-haired bespectacled boy said. "Are you okay?"
"Of course," Hermione forced a laugh and averted her eyes.
That was when she caught the tall red-haired boy holding his wand over his rat.
"Sorry-erm-" she trailed off. "But are you doing magic? I haven't seen anyone my age cast anything before..." Hermione covered her face. "No, no, forget I said anything!"
"And you're sure you're alright, then?" the red-haired boy grimaced.
Hermione shrank on the spot. What the hell was she doing? Could she fake being okay for a moment? At this rate she would be isolated for the next seven years. She should have just left, and she was about to when the red-haired boy spoke.
"I don't mind if you watch," he offered, pointing to the bench across from them. "Sit down, then."
Hermione obliged with a weak closed-mouth smile. Keep it together, you stupid little girl.
The boy puffed his chest out and cleared his throat. He seemed so certain. She wondered if he was going to transfigure the poor rat, or maybe enlarge or shrink it. That could be amazing! She leaned at the edge of the bench to examine it critically. If the boy was this confident, she would be sure to mimic it.
"Sunshine daisies..."
The rat continued to nibble sweets on his lap, still grey and unfazed. The red-haired boy's ears turned pink as he beheld the rat with complete disappointment. "My brother swore it would work..."
"Maybe he lied to you?" Hermione offered, drawing her own wand. "Most spells have a base in Latin. Like-erm-" she looked around for something to fix. "Oh! Your specs are broken. Is it okay-erm-if I fix them?"
"Sure," the dark-haired boy said curiously, handing them to her. "Not terribly keen on the idea of starting school with cello-taped glasses."
"Repairo!" Hermione recited and the nose piece mended. She gingerly unwrapped the tape to reveal the clean, solid metal beneath. "Here."
"Thanks," he said beaming before putting his glasses back on. "I'm Harry."
Wait...Harry Potter? she thought. She spied the lightning scar beneath his untidy dark fringe. I've read so much about you...don't say that! He's probably heard of me too, and I don't want to judge him based on something he doesn't remember. I know how unfair that is... She must have been silent too long.
"Yeah," his cheeks flushed pink. "I keep forgetting about that. I-erm-don't really remember anything. I was raised by muggles."
And probably not kind ones, she thought. He was nothing like what she pictured. Her father got after her for neglecting to eat and blaming her stature on it, but Harry Potter, the Harry Potter looked legitimately under-nourished. His cheekbones were very pronounced and bony hands protruded from gigantic sleeves. He wasn't short, but he was definitely too lean. And he seemed kind. She had expected to be face-to-face with arrogance incarnate, but instead she was met with empathetic green eyes with a desire to shrink away into nothing. Something Hermione knew too well.
"So you probably only have what you've read to go off of," Hermione said. "That can't be easy."
"I-erm-actually haven't really read anything about it either..." Harry admitted.
"Really?" Hermione asked. "I'd want to know everything if it were me...You could have any answer you want!" You have access to the past you can't remember. It's right there at your fingertips. Why didn't you?
"Well, I'm not you, am I?" Harry snapped.
Maybe I was wrong about you...
"Is it somehow his fault he just found out about everything now then, is it?" the red-haired boy scowled. "Sorry we didn't live up to your expectations, little miss Latin. Why don't you run along on your toad hunt, then?!"
Of course he just found out about all this now. You are a monster! If he was raised by muggles who couldn't be bothered feeding him, how could she expect him to have access to the past?
"Sorry," she sighed. "I just-" choose your words carefully and don't cry. This is all your fault, now fix it. Fix something! "I'm sorry, to both of you," she stared at her hands and reopened the cut on her finger. "Because of my father's work I've never really gotten to meet other people before. At least not for long. So, I'm kind of-well-a bit of a social retard. I never know what to say." Why'd you say that?! "Shit! Forget I said anything! Just if you see a stray toad, there'll be a first year boy with black hair and blue eyes named Neville. He'd appreciate it. I have to go."
"A bit mad that one, isn't she?" the red-haired boy said before she was out of earshot.
"Ron!" Harry hissed.
A fruitless search and hours later Hermione heard the squeal of the train breaks, the momentum jerked her forward and she fell to her knees. "Shit," she muttered. She tried to get to her feet but fell over as the crowds pushed forward. Older students walked through or over her in droves as she tried to squeeze between them.
"FIRS' YEARS!" a familiar voice called.
She weaved her way through to the place where first years were supposed to gather and bumped into Neville.
"Did you find him?" he asked with a small voice.
His blue eyes grew to the size of dinner plates and he wavered between despair and hopeful. Was that what she looked like when others compared her to a baby creature? A dry lump formed in her throat as she bit her lip and dug her nails into the back of her hand. She had one thing to do and she screwed it up. She could barely stand his disappointment. But now she had to sit next to him on a boat and feel it.
"I'm so so sorry, Neville!" she said.
"Thanks for helping me look, though," he smiled at her.
I failed...why are you thanking me?
Just her luck, Hagrid had guided first years into a boat and Hermione was not only squeezed in with Neville, but the other two they shared the boat with were Harry Potter and the red-haired boy, Ron. Hermione sat with her knees to her chest wishing she could disappear, surrounded by those she disappointed. They all must have hated her so much. Maybe she deserved it.
She's a smart girl, she's a good kid. Severus told himself as he watched the older students file into the Great Hall. Whoever she shows up with, wherever she's sorted I am going to be okay with it. He had been trying to convince himself of this since she left in the morning. He had convinced himself to talk to her about the Yamato boy, it's not like he could monitor her mail now anyway, and a boy half a world away posed no threat. Hermione would be thrilled to hear that, but he also knew he had to be okay with whatever group of girls she found herself in. Other parents didn't have the luxury of seeing what their child was up to, and he had no choice but to allow her the freedoms other children had.
"Y-you d-don't n-normally at-attend th-the s-s-sorting ceremony," Quirrell observed beside him.
They had to assign the position to the old muggle studies teacher, didn't they? Whatever happened to him on the continent, the man acquired more than a stutter. Something was off about him. He would have to keep an eye on him.
"No, I suppose I haven't," he said, eyes still on the doors. "Things change, something I imagine you are acutely aware of."
Silence followed that comment.
McGonagall was the next to come through the doors holding her list of first years' names. She paused at the stool and lifted the sorting hat. The forty or so first years followed in after her, double-file before falling into a semi-circular mass. His eyes scanned the crowd looking for Hermione. I am going to be okay with whomever I find her with. She's perfectly capable-Damn it, baby girl, not him!
Hermione stood clustered with three boys, all of which towered over her. One had to be the newest Weasley, the fatter of the three huddled in close to her as if the small girl could protect him from something, and the last was none other than Harry fucking Potter. He looked so much like his arrogant prat of a father that he could barely see a trace of Lily.
Severus tried to establish eye-contact with Hermione, but she, of course, wasn't paying attention. Weasley muttered something into Potter's ear and Severus stood corrected. Potter had one trace of his mother, her eyes. Bright green, almond-shaped and so misplaced on his father's features behind those glasses. He made eye-contact with the boy and he winced in response, rubbing his scar.
Honestly, Hermione? she fell for whatever his little act was, placing an almost maternal hand on his shoulder. She asked him something as well as the Weasley boy. Potter muttered something. The three of them exchanged glances before Hermione stood on her tiptoes to check Potter's forehead. Weasley said something to Potter again and Hermione shrank, muttering something. The boys looked at her sceptically and she shrank further, biting her lip and clasping her hands, likely digging her nails in between her fingers again.
Did she not pay attention? She read all about Potter's father's exploits. His daughter should have known better.
"Abbott, Hannah!" McGonagall called.
Severus turned his thoughts to the almost complete lack of interhouse relations in the school. Hermione would likely never see him again outside of class. That he could live with. After everything James Potter did to him, his son was not going to destroy his little girl's life.
"Longbottom, Neville!"
The round face boy cowering next to Hermione stepped up. After what looked to be a few encouraging words on her part and ushering him forward. The two exchanged a glance and she smiled at him. It was so strange to see, almost maternal. At least the coward would be safe for her to be around.
The hat took longer than he expected with him. And he had to suppress a laugh when the Longbottom boy was sorted into Gryffindor. How the hell did that happen? Amusing as it was, he lost interest as he returned to watching Hermione and the boys.
"Potter, Harry!"
The boy came forward to hushed whispers from both his cohorts and students at the tables. Was he actually nervous or was he milking the gazes of the idiots around him? Like Longbottom before him, Hermione and Weasley encouraged him to go forward. Don't fall for it, you're smarter than this! Potter must have gotten all the attention he craved as the hat took forever to sort him.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
What a fucking shock! Did it honestly take that long to place the boy? What other prospects did he have? No way he was humble enough to be sorted into Hufflepuff, he doubted the boy had his mother's love of reading, firmly taking Ravenclaw out of the equation, and there was no way in hell someone so self-righteous would be placed in Slytherin.
He joined a loudly cheering table sitting beside Longbottom opposite the Weasley twins. It took an additional five minutes to shut the stupid lot up before McGonagall could continue down the list.
This is going to be a long seven years.
"Snape, Hermione!"
Hermione did not receive even remotely similar treatment from the Weasley boy. Upon hearing her last name his jaw dropped and he stared at her with a mix of shock and disgust. No kind words or encouraging smile. Just a hissed question he couldn't make out and Hermione slinked forward like a frightened little kitten. She wrung her hands together and shrank beneath the silent glares. He tried to establish eye-contact with her, but her gaze was glued firmly to the ground.
He was right, the hat did take forever with her. Where Potter had no prospects outside of Gryffindor, he could see her being perfectly split between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Trying to suss out whether she was more loyal or wise would be difficult. Hermione had both in spades. Her desire to be invisible, which she was demonstrating quite well, making herself as small as she could, would probably land her in-
"GRYFFINDOR!"
What the absolute hell?!
"Everything alright, Severus?" Dumbledore whispered. "You look as if you just had vomit flavoured bean."
"Looks like you won the jackpot, headmaster," he whispered, trying to keep an even tone.
He watched Hermione slink over to the Gryffindor table. One of the Weasley twins did what the rest of the table seemed to deem unthinkable and flagged her over. She looked up for an instant, and the twins made room between them, where Hermione shrank, once more trying to vanish.
He was not surprised when Ronald Weasley was placed in Gryffindor, and given the boy's incessant chattering in Potter's ear before he was sorted, he was also unsurprised by him sitting next to Potter.
He kept his eyes glued on Hermione through-out the feast. She didn't touch her food and shrank at pointed questions from Potter and Weasley. The new Weasley said something that caused Hermione to cover her face with her hands. I swear to God, if that boy made her cry...
One of the twins said something to Weasley-he would have to find a way to mentally separate the three- and the boy shrank.
"You're going to have to be gentle with those boys," Dumbledore said wistfully. "I have a distinct feeling that those three are going to be very close friends."
Are you watching the same table I am?
However, Dumbledore had a way of knowing things. He hoped he was wrong here.
This was going to be a very long seven years, indeed.