3. Hatstalls
Hannah was the first to be sorted, and she went to Hufflepuff. Susan soon followed.
Neville gave Harry a despairing glance, but Harry smiled reassuringly, and whispered "Still friends no matter what."
Neville took a deep breath and walked over to the stool. After an agonizingly long wait, he was sorted into Gryffindor.
So- after an even longer wait - was Harry, although the hat could have been persuaded to place him anywhere. Still, with his only friend already in Gryffindor, Harry was quite pleased with that option, especially when he recalled that his parents had gone there too.
He took a seat beside Neville, trying to ignore the screams of delight from his housemates.
"We were both hatstalls," Neville whispered.
"Just means we are versatile," Harry shrugged. He had taken note of some other hatstalls: apart from himself and Neville, there were two girls who eventually ended up in Gryffindor. One was an exquisitely pretty blonde; the other a bushy-haired brunette who seemed vaguely familiar.
It was not until they were admitted to their common room that he remembered where he'd seen her. She was the girl who'd been at Portobello Road that day…the true owner of Harry's ritual book!
He swallowed hard, but forced himself to speak up and reveal what had happened. "I tried to catch the cab, but it drove off too fast. But, I'd be happy to share the book with you."
"Why should I share?" The girl said loftily. "It's my book, not yours! Give it here!" Eyes glinting greedily, she snatched the volume from Harry's hand, and flipped it open.
Her expression changed to fury. "Very funny! You better not pull something like this again, or I'll report you!"
She flung the book at the fire, but Neville caught it clumsily. The girl stormed off in the direction of the dorms.
"What did she do that for?" Harry was baffled.
"Well…you did give her a book of doodles. She doesn't seem to have any sense of humor."
"Doodles? No…" Harry stared at his precious book…the English was clear. How was it he alone could read it? Whatever the case, he was thankful the girl had discarded it, and Neville had rescued it.
He resolved to have nothing to do with such an unpleasant girl.
Harry wasn't the only one to find Hermione Granger unlikeable.
The three other girls in her dorm- Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, and Daphne Greengrass- did not seem to care much for her either.
In every class she was pushing, hand waving in the air, sometimes even talking over others to make her point.
That is…until Potions.
"In this class," Snape said coldly, "you will speak if, and only if, I ask you a question."
"But, Professor…"
"Did I ask you a question? That will be twenty points from Gryffindor, and detention this evening!"
Hermione subsided, face burning.
"That put the mudblood in her place," sneered a blond boy.
Snape did not reprove him; encouraged, the blond- Draco Malfoy- added, "What a collection of losers we have to take potions with: mudbloods, blood traitors, even…a squib!" He laughed when he looked at poor Neville, whose hands were trembling in fear.
"Everyone is not adept at potions, Mr. Malfoy; unfortunately, we must put up with the dunderheads…for now." Snape transferred his glare from Hermione to Neville.
Harry's blood boiled. He fixed his eyes on Malfoy and thought: you ought to feel what Neville feels in this class.
The Ritual of Displacement took effect, as Malfoy's cauldron began to belch smoke, and melted all over his desk.
"What do you suppose happened?" Neville asked, as they made their way to Charms. "Malfoy was bragging about how great he is at potions! Did you notice how red he got?" Neville chuckled at the memory.
"Guess he should have put his money where his mouth is," Harry grinned. He made up his mind to do the third ritual at the first possible moment, if the others were so helpful.
Just then the pretty blonde girl who'd been one of the hatstalls stumbled, and her bag spilled out all over the corridor.
Harry's quick eye caught a wand vanishing up a sleeve: Pansy Parkinson, the pug-faced girl who fawned all over that blond ponce Malfoy.
His eyes narrowed, promising retribution, as he darted forward to assist the blonde girl…Daphne?
"Thanks," she whispered, her face scarlet with embarassment.
"Parkinson cast a spell at you."
She jerked her head in acknowledgment, but said no more.
"We'd better get to Herbology," Neville said anxiously. "We have to go all the way to greenhouse one."
They hurried after the rest of the Gryffindors.
"We have this with the Hufflepuffs," Neville added, and some of the tension seemed to ease from Daphne's shoulders.