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Hermione Granger and the Displaced Sorting
Harry Potter Fanfiction
Chapter 8
A/N: This is going to be a running author's note, but if you read on and enjoy this story, make sure to have my username saved in case my account is deleted. I post on AO3 and Wattpad as well under the same name.
We've got our official sorting now. Congrats to those of you that guessed where she would be going based on the title "Displaced Sorting."
September 2nd, 1992
There was a small snag with her "eat and flee" plan, and it all revolved around the fact that they would be getting their timetables during breakfast today, and she was the only person in the entire, echoing room—including the absent staff.
With a sigh, she resigned herself to having to wait around.
"I'd have to face the music eventually, right Ignis?" she questioned, feeling the critter do a little wiggle in reply. "Might as well get some studying done, I suppose."
Hermione opened the book, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, something she hadn't cracked open yet in her goal of passing her first year required subjects, and then later getting to know the secrets of Hogwarts. However, the "invisible" skeletal horses weren't in Hogwarts: A History, so either they were a fairly new thing, used after the book was published, or it'd been left out as unimportant.
She would get to the bottom of these "horseless" carriages. In addition, she needed to attend her classes, read ahead, complete any homework, write her parents, and track down the library.
Already, her day was packed full.
The first of the students began to trickle in, and Hermione dipped her chin low, her bushy hair falling forward and blocking more of her face. Hopefully, they'd just see her as another child first-year student beneath their notice.
It was only the first- and second-year students she worried about. Sure enough, as students filled the room, a group of the girls she'd joined with the prefects sat nearby but apart from her, close enough for her to hear their whispers, speculating about her, her heritage, her whereabouts from the night before…
She kept her eyes glued to her book. So long as they kept their conversation to a believable whisper where she could just pretend to be absorbed in the reading material and not hear it, she would be happy.
The longer breakfast went on, though, the braver they got, until one finally cleared her throat and spoke up. "You're Granger, right? We didn't see you in the dorm last night. Did you get scared of us real snakes and crawl into some dark hidey hole?"
Hermione paused, placing a bookmark in her spot as she considered how to answer, but hundreds of swooping owls flew in, carrying an interruption with them.
"RON-ALD WEASLEY!" a woman's voice screeched, causing all the chatter to die down. A red envelope jumped into the air, contorting into a mouth that yelled at the young boy with a face burning brighter than his hair. "HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR?! I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED! YOUR FATHER'S NOW FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, AND IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT! IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE, WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME!"
A resounding silence echoed around the room as the letter turned to a familiar redheaded girl. "—Oh, and Ginny dear, congratulations on making Gryffindor. Your father and I are so proud."
The letter huffed once more at what had to be another one of Ginny's six brothers that she'd mentioned on the train ride, blew a raspberry with its ribbon tongue, and then shredded itself up in some self-destruct sequence.
Hermione felt for her friend, and even for this older brother, Ronald, but she couldn't deny the relief she felt when the inquisition she'd been facing shifted onto to the latest hot gossip.
And before the excitement of what they were calling a "howler" died down, the Heads of House were walking around with stacks of parchment.
Hermione cast a quick glance up at the Ravenclaw table, her eyes shifting from the beacon of bright blonde hair that was Luna and scanning for Professor Flitwick's short stature, but it proved difficult to spot him with all the students standing, waiting for their name to be called.
Maybe she'd be in luck and have class with him today.
"Granger, Hermione," Snape's melodic voice drawled.
Luckily, she was near the faculty tables already, so she didn't have far to travel.
He stared at her impassively. "Flying class will commence next week and run through the end of October."
With that, he held her schedule out.
Anxious to leave, she collected it and disappeared into the crowd, slipping away from the students that'd been paying enough attention to realize her name had been called in with the second years after Gregory Goyle and before Daphne Greengrass.
Out in the hall, she found a place out of the way beside a statue and glanced over her schedule. Today was Wednesday, so she had two blocks of History of Magic with a Professor Binns, followed by Transfiguration with McGonagall.
No Flitwick, not even after lunch.
She scanned further down the list, realizing she wouldn't actually have Charms class until Friday. Disappointment weighed her shoulders down until she noted the classroom numbers and realized she had no idea where to go.
She rushed to follow the mass of students, hoping that wouldn't lead her wrong. They crossed over a viaduct bridge into a separate section of Hogwarts, divided by a stream. The view was breathtaking, looking up from so low to the ground to see the staggering height of the stretching towers up close. The castle's footprint, paired with the cool water and shadowed stone, turned the area into a wind tunnel of sorts, so she had to brace herself as a gust nearly knocked her off her feet.
Her knapsack helped anchor her down. She'd prepared it for the day earlier, unshrinking it and all of her books since she didn't want to be caught doing wandless magic in front of her professors. Her trunk was still shrunk in her robe pockets.
She jogged a little to catch up with a taller Hufflepuff student. "Excuse me, can you tell me where classroom 4F is?"
The taller girl smiled. "History of Magic? Sure, no problem. I'll pass by it on my way to class. It's on the ground floor, luckily, as is your other class before lunch, Transfiguration in 1B."
A quick smile quirked her lips. As long as she found the first classroom, the rest of her classes would just require her to follow her fellow Slytherins.
Wait… of course!
She wanted to slap her forehead. Why hadn't she just followed her second-year housemates. They'd share all the same classes since with them since the schedule clearly denoted which house would join them—Ravenclaw as it was for this particular double-period, followed by Hufflepuff. She'd paid attention enough to be able to trail the big guy, Gregory Goyle, since she'd been paying hyperattention during the leadup to claiming her schedule.
Either way, she'd be more careful about this to learn their faces.
"This is the Central Hall, you can access lots of places from here, including the Transfiguration Courtyard where we're heading."
Hermione glanced around with wide eyes, positive she'd never seen so much polished marble in one place before.
They entered a courtyard full of brushes, paving stones, a gnarled tree, stone benches, and a water fountain statue of a dragon with a sphere on its back.
"In the winter or if it's rainy, most students stick to the covered breezeway on the edges, but when the weather's nice, it's faster to cut across the center when heading to Professor Binns' class. It's directly ahead here. If you go left there, you'll be in the transfiguration class."
Hermione breathed a little easier. "Oh, that's great news. Thank you so much!"
"Of course. Also, it's only just before eight. You're a first-year student, so you don't start classes for another hour."
Hermione bit her lip, wondering if there had been some sort of mix-up that landed her in the wrong times, until the girl continued. "First and second years start later and finish earlier since you don't take any electives, so you have some time to kill. You're pretty lucky having transfiguration and history together so you don't have far to walk in between classes either."
"Oh," Hermione replied without correcting her, hoping to cross another task off her list without taking too much time. She could explore over the weekend. "Where's the library?"
The girl smiled and hooked a thumb over her shoulder. "I'm afraid you'll have to backtrack a bit. It's just there, but you can only enter from the Central Hall we passed through. Take the door with a sun above it. You should have to go down some stairs, but it'll be there. Good luck!"
Hermione glanced in the direction she'd indicated, attempting to temper her excitement at the idea of seeing the place she'd only read about in description. "Thank you, again."
An hour to kill—she beelined for the library the second the helpful upper year student had left her sight. Luckily the girl had mentioned the stairs, otherwise, she might've thought it was the wrong place.
With so many stairs at Hogwarts, she wouldn't have to block out any time for cardio. She'd get it automatically.
Still, now that she had her classes, she'd have to sit down and chart out her time. She didn't want to halt the training she'd been doing at MI5 with Trainer Hart. The mixed maneuvers and magic had saved her more than once. Without that, the nundu would've eaten her alive—if it'd even gotten the chance. That one goblin with the power to weave earth would've probably put an end to the trials then and there.
At the bottom landing, she stepped into the library annex.
And boy, did it not disappoint.
Tables similar to the ones in the Great Hall filled in where they could, the second story windows allowed for a bright and airy atmosphere, and it was so large that it had a mezzanine as the second floor, accessed by the twin spiraling staircases ahead.
So many books.
"So little time," she whispered, just taking a moment to absorb this feeling. The thought of all that knowledge at her fingertips. She'd always treasured the powers of intellect, but in the Wizarding World, that held even more value. Who needed to be big and brawny when you could just as easily knock back dangers with the flick of a wand?
And now, she would have six years to access all this information—the possibilities were infinite…
She didn't check out a single book. Being the first day of classes, no other students were present, so she just sat in the middle, taking in the view around her, committing it to memory before she glanced at her watch and decided to head back out.
She backtracked her path, only getting one turn wrong, and soon she'd arrived at the History of Magic classroom with ten minutes to spare. A quick peek inside showed that Professor Binns either didn't teach the upper years, or that the classes ended early enough to ensure students would have ample time for travel.
Hermione entered a little surprised that the professor wasn't around yet. Perhaps he'd stepped out for a second. She hoped he wasn't the type to arrive fashionably late if this was his first class of the day.
As the classroom filled, Hermione made herself as small as possible, hunching down in a chair near the back, all the while wondering where her courage had gone.
"Come on, Hermione," she coached herself sotto voce, as she straightened up, making sure the green trim on her robes was more prominent. If ever there was a time to announce your presence as a brand new second-year student, it was in the controlled, relatively small grouping of a classroom setting.
"Let the rumors begin, Ignis."
To keep busy, she pulled out parchment and a pen to begin her letter to her parents, eager to checkmark another task off her to-do list.
The students that'd already seated themselves were predominately Ravenclaws, and they mostly just focused on pulling their supplies out.
However, the closer it came to nine o'clock, the more Slytherins entered, and they definitely noticed the foreign presence.
A short, black-haired girl with narrow features approached, trailed by a bored looking strawberry blonde. The shorter one, the leader of the two, sneered at her. "I was going to ask if you're related to the Dagworth-Grangers, but obviously you're Muggle."
Hermione followed her pointed look to the pen she'd been using to write with. "Well, since you're obviously from the Wizarding World, I'm a little disappointed that you didn't realize that the correct term for me is Muggle-born, not Muggle. But I'll excuse your error. I'm sure you're not normally so incorrect."
Mentally, Hermione closed her eyes in resignation, because she'd found her missing courage.
The black-haired girl snarled, but the dirty blonde girl placed a hand on her shoulder, saying, "Pansy, come on, you can't get in trouble the first day of class."
Hermione carefully placed the pen down and shifted subtly in her seat. She wasn't unfamiliar with physical fighting, and if this Pansy wanted to throw fists, Hermione was ready.
Pansy's face twisted, but she didn't crowd her space any further. "You want to talk about dumb people, then look no further than your own reflection, mudblood!" Several gasps from the Ravenclaws they shared the class with sounded out, making Pansy's lip curl in satisfaction, helping regain even more of her composure. It obviously wasn't a word said in polite company, and Hermione could take a guess at what it meant given the glaring context. "This is a class for second-year students, so you obviously must be too dense to read something as simple as a timetable."
Hermione watched her bask in her triumph for a second, noting how the strawberry blonde seemed eager to win Pansy's approval as she smiled in encouragement at their seeming victory. Ms. Walker had taught her a thing or two about people and their motivations. She wondered why this girl, who was better looking than Pansy, would be so desperate for approval.
"Actually, though I might have missed a year of schooling, I assure you, I am exactly where I'm supposed to be, but thank you for your concern."
Even more heads turned in their direction at her assertion, made in a calm voice that carried. Whispering started.
While keeping the now red-faced Pansy in her peripherals, she scoped out the other Slytherins for their dynamics.
There were two other girls, a large one and a thin, willowy one with wavy, golden hair, sat apart from each other though both were tuned into the action.
There were five boys total for their year, including the big one with the square jaw, Gregory Goyle. She didn't know the names of the rest, though Gregory Goyle seemed to seek the approval of a platinum blond boy, much like Pansy's shadow who had to grab Pansy's arm as she tried to come at Hermione.
"You're lying! There's no way they'd let a mudblood skip a year of magical schooling!"
Hermione pretended nonchalance even as she spooled raw energy into her hand. She gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Believe what you will, but I had to come in to take my exams two weeks ago to demonstrate my mastery of the material."
The strawberry blonde shifted. "Pansy, you could get detention."
Pansy growled. "Oh, shove off, Tracey! It's just Binns. He wouldn't notice if the Dark Lord himself returned from the dead and danced around on his desk!"
The girl, Tracey, looked hurt, but again, she obeyed the irate black-haired snob. Hermione found that very telling, again wondering what hold Pansy had on Tracey.
Whatever else was going to be said, the professor chose that time to enter—through the chalkboard, spotted her and said, "Oh, hello," before he began a droning lecture, not even acknowledging that Pansy and Tracey were still standing.
Pansy smirked at her open-mouthed shock. "Yeah, he's a ghost. Still confident you know it all?"
Hermione hated that she'd gotten the last word. The only thing their confrontation had accomplished was that she was now thrust into the spotlight as whispers circulated the rest of the class.