Hermione Granger and the Displaced Sorting
Harry Potter Fanfiction
Chapter 13
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.
New A/N: There isn't a lot of information on the comings and goings of the upper year Slytherins due to the 3rd limited POV Harry Potter is told in, so the two seventh years are not canon—except for Gemma Farely's name.
September 19th, 1992
Hermione cleared her throat, staring at the upper year and wondering what her ulterior motives could be.
Farley straightened from the wall to circle Hermione, and she refused to turn to keep the head girl in sight. That would be a sign of weakness. Instead, she kept her confidence in her shield and glued her gaze on the door to freedom, so close yet so far.
"You know, Granger. There's been a lot of speculation surrounding you."
Hermione's brow arched, a mirror image of her expression after she single-handedly froze two dozen pixies with a single spell. "Are there."
Farley reappeared in her line of sight, her head tilted. "You didn't phrase that like a question."
"That's because it wasn't. This is only my third week at Hogwarts, and it's disappointingly obvious how much stock the students here put into gossip. Why would I be surprised to find out there were stories circulating about my admittedly odd arrival?"
Farley hummed, her bright red lipstick and perfect teeth smiling in an empty expression. "Yes, let's start with that, shall we? How did you come to be a second-year student in your first year?"
"Yes," a male voice agreed after a quiet pop, making both the girls startle to see Lucan Sallow standing there, glancing down at a small elven creature, different but most certainly sharing some characteristics with Erl. "I second that motion."
Both girls didn't move.
Sallow patted the small creature on the head without losing his hand or finger, so the tiny elf was certainly tamer than even Erl bound. "Thank you, Moppet. You're a true gem, as always. Hogwarts is lucky to have you."
The creature smiled before popping away.
Sallow transferred his charming smile to them. "Now, where were we? Discussing Hermione Granger's origin story?"
Farley stalked forward, finally finding her words. "You can't be in here, Sallow. It's against the rules."
Sallow shrugged. "Would a Hogwarts' elf really help a student break the rules? Lighten up, Farley."
Hermione had straightened. "Hogwarts has elves?"
Sallow and Farley ceased their bickering as they noted her question. Hermione cleared her throat, trying to act less eager as she relaxed her stance.
Sallow laughed. "Ha, she's hopeless!" He fixed Hermione with double raised brows. "How did you end up in Slytherin? The second years are going to eat you alive!"
Hermione frowned. "They can try."
Oddly enough, Sallow seemed inclined to agree. "That's true." He began wandering around the room, inspecting the beds. "What with your wandless—" He glanced at Farley and emphasized, "—nonverbal magic." He began rifling through drawers.
"What are you doing?" Farley all but shouted, none of the cool, collected demeanor in sight. "You can't just help yourself to the girls' dorms and then proceed to further invade their privacy."
Sallow glanced up, a dark twinkle in his eyes as he shut the bedside drawer without fuss. "Oh, yeah, this is definitely your bed." He hopped up and sprawled flat, arms folded beneath his head as he stared up at the Slytherin green canopy and wiggled around. "Hmm. Not much better than the standard. Tell me, Farley, what are the perks of being a stuck-up Head Girl if you don't even get a better mattress?"
Farley regained her cool and with a casual flick of her wand, upended the impertinent boy from her bed, dumping him on the floor with a surprised "oof."
To be fair, he didn't seem all that ruffled by the action as he popped back up into view—at least his head did as he rested his chin atop his folded arms, an action that sent the Head Girl's eye twitching. "So, I guess we can rule out all the rumors about you attending a magical school before. There's no way, even as a Muggle-born, that you wouldn't have been exposed to House Elves by now if you'd attended Beauxbatons or Ilvermorny."
Hermione's brows shot up, but again, Farley didn't seem shocked by the seemingly blasé boy's astute conclusion.
"I've got this under control, thank you," Farley repeated. "Now get off my bed!"
Sallow grinned, rolling his head horizontally so he could flash that charm up at the irate seventh year. "Why, Gemma? Worried you'll have naughty dreams of me by association?"
"For Merlin's sake, Sallow. Can you not? She's twelve!"
Hermione fidgeted, her cheeks warming, and it didn't seem like the best time to bring up that, as of today, she was actually thirteen. It seemed a little too much like something an immature person would say when they wanted to be included in "adult" stuff, and she wanted nothing to do with this weird back and forth between the two.
In fact…
Farley, without breaking her staring contest with the unrepentant boy, shot a warning hand out unerringly in Hermione's direction. "I don't think so."
Hermione froze.
Sallow rolled back up onto his chin, turning his charm on her. "Going somewhere, Hermione Granger?"
Hermione cleared her throat. "Well, it just looked like you two were busy, so I thought I'd give you some privacy…"
Farley all but leapt back, increasing the distance two-fold by the same amount Sallow's wicked smile grew, as if their reactions were a balanced equation: acceptable distance equals Sallow's amusement squared.
"We do not need privacy, you presumptuous, childish little—"
Sallow climbed to his feet, interrupting Farley's angry retort. "Now, now, Gemma, we don't need to gang up on her. As you pointed out, she's only twelve."
"Thirteen, actually," Hermione corrected, unable to help herself after Farley's insulting words that'd directly attacked her maturity.
Sallow tilted his head. "So that part's true." He shared a look with Farley. "Her birthday's today."
Despite Farley still looking put out, Hermione felt like they were playing some elaborate, convincing form of "good cop, bad cop," and she'd once more walked right into their interrogation technique, volunteering information like an ice-cream bribed four-year-old.
Hermione bristled, squaring her shoulders. "I plead the fifth."
Sallow blinked. "What?"
Hermione sighed. "Right, purebloods."
Farley huffed. "Right, Muggle-born." Hermione scowled at her, and Farley continued. "You started it, Granger."
"Really? I started the blood prejudice?"
Sallow stuffed his hands into his pockets and leaned against Farley's bedpost. "Yeah. Not all Slytherins are like that." He paused as he tilted his head. "Well, technically, you are the only Muggle-born sorted into this house in—well, who knows how long, so maybe we did start it."
Farley shook her head, slashing her hands through the air. "Look, this is barmy. We're here to help you, so just tell us everything we need to know so that we can sort out how to guide you."
Hermione crossed her arms. "I don't need your guidance, thanks."
Sallow laughed, turning to his classmate as he cast a thumb in Hermione's direction. "Doesn't need our guidance? Do you hear that, Gemma?"
"I do," Gemma deadpanned, keeping her scrutiny on Hermione. "You know, most people would die to get taken under the wing of one of the upper years like this, and you've two of the most powerful seventh years offering just that without any strings attached."
Sallow scoffed. "Not two of the 'most' powerful. The two most powerful seventh years, between Gemma's Head Girl status and my, well, everything else."
Hermione blinked at them. "Are you serious?" She glared at Farley. "No strings attached? You just finished telling me to always suspect everyone has ulterior motives."
Sallow laughed. "Hey, she's a fast learner. Maybe the second years won't swallow her whole, after all."
Hermione really wished she'd been given more opportunity to study the demiguise once she'd gained more understanding of her powers because she could really use one of its disappearing acts right about now. "Look, don't worry. I take all responsibility for whatever happens between myself and my classmates. You are hereby absolved of whatever motivated you to single me out in the first place."
"Can't, pet. I'm afraid the orders come from a much higher authority than you," Sallow replied. "So, adopt a stiff-upper lip, because you'll be getting a breakdown on all things Slytherin."
Hermione relaxed a fraction, hearing that they were operating under orders.
Farley huffed. "And there you go again, taking what someone says at face value. What if he'd been lying just to get you to do exactly that, drop your guard?"
Hermione tensed back up, her gaze bouncing between them.
Sallow laughed at her unease. "Don't worry, Granger. If you don't believe that someone ordered us, at least believe this. You're the most curious person at Hogwarts right now, and that includes the actual Boy-Who-Lived on the roster."
Hermione frowned at the name, but didn't mention anything, though she did add to do some reading into recent history. Considering how far back in time they'd begun in Binns' class, she doubted they'd reach anything pertaining to this century before the end of term, and if there was a student currently enrolled with a title like that, she figured she needed to brush up on recent events.
"Now, since we're on your side, tell us everything."
Hermione gave him her best skeptical face.
"Okay, fine," Sallow wheedled as if this were a negotiation. "Tell us how you managed to skip your first year of Hogwarts and where you learned to do wandless, nonverbal magic, and we'll go from there."
Figuring they wouldn't let her leave without some sort of explanation, she thought quickly. "Well, my magic has always been rather strong. And I think, perhaps something about that helped keep me hidden from Hogwarts until some time after I turned twelve. I still don't really understand it all myself. And since I've been using magic from a rather young age, without a wand, I guess it just comes to me more instinctively."
A beat of silence passed before Sallow snorted. "Okay, fine, keep your secrets for now. But you're still going to be getting a lesson in subterfuge, because that lying you just did? Atrocious. Troll, even. Poor marks all around, Hermione Granger."
Farley nodded. "What he said, so just suck it up. We're giving you lessons. Let me see your schedule."
"And don't deny you've got one. You're always moving like you've got to put out a fire somewhere," Sallow added.
Hermione sighed and pulled her schedule out, handing it over to them.
They glanced it over, and even Farley's brows jumped. "Three hours of library a day? And an hour with Flitwick before dinner? Classes officially end at five."
Hermione cleared her throat. "Oh, ah, it's remedial charms. As an agreement to start in my second year with my peers, I had to take and pass the tests for the subjects I'd missed. Charms was my lowest score."
"Hmm," Sallow replied noncommittally. "And flying too, since it's on your schedule." His brows lowered as he pointed to something over Farley's shoulder. "Hey, what's this? MMMA, six to eight, every day."
Hermione was glad she'd used an acronym for her nickname of mixed magic and martial arts because that'd certainly bring up questions about her past. "Oh, it's just a muggle type of dance exercising, like Zumba. I like to keep my stamina up."
Sallow snorted. "Okay, that's a better lie. Not quite a troll, but we've definitely got our work cut out for us. How about this? We'll meet with you after curfew in the Slytherin common room."
Frustration welled within her. "But—"
"No buts," Farley warned, pointing her wand at Hermione's timetable before handing it back.
And there, in black and white, added magically with a different penmanship that projected her lack of choice in the matter was "Slytherin Business with Farly and Sallow," every other night at nine.
October 1st, 1992
Hermione sighed, closing yet another useless book on bonds as she glanced up at Flitwick.
Noting her frustration, he continued grading assignments as he asked, "What's troubling you, Hermione?"
She glanced over at Erl who'd taken up lining the walls with wood carvings. "I just can't find any information on the type of forced bond I performed, nor how to free him."
Flitwick tilted his head. "It's still early yet. It's only been a month since you started school, so be patient. We'll find an answer in time. Would you prefer to do something a little more hands on now? It might be good to work out some of your frustrations."
Hermione sighed again, propping her chin on her hand as she switched to her metavision, studying, for the hundredth time, the netting that kept Erl captive to her whims. "No."
Flitwick sat down his quill at her short response. "Okay, there must be something more going on than just the bond. You've never sounded more like a sullen teenager than you did just then."
Hermione leaned back and crossed her arms. "Well, I am officially a teenager."
"Yes, but you've been helping to solve murder cases since you were six, exposed to more death than most people would encounter in a dozen lifetimes, and agreed to fight a nundu for a man you barely knew. You normally don't react like a normal teenager."
Hermione scowled down at the table. "Just because I don't usually react that way doesn't negate the fact that I am one."
Flitwick considered her for a moment before returning to grading. "Of course, you're right, Hermione. My mistake."
Hermione's jaw loosened as she stared at him, continuing nonplussed as if she wasn't dealing with an existential crisis.
She blurted, "That's it?"
Flitwick gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Not much I can do about teen romance and heartbreak, I'm afraid."
Hermione spluttered, indignant at his assumption that she'd tie herself in knots over something so pedantic. Then, she recognized what he was doing, and her expression soured further at taking the bait so quickly.
So much for my Slytherin training classes.
She sighed. "Okay, fine. Farley and Sallow have taken me under their wing, of sorts."
"Seventh year?" Flitwick asked, giving her his full attention. "What for?"
"I'm not entirely sure why, but they're trying to teach me to be more… Slytherin."
"Ah. And you don't like that?"
It was Hermione's turn to shrug. "What they're teaching me has made me take a good long look at the people in my life, the ones that matter, anyway, and their motivations."
Sharp like his house, Flitwick narrowed his eyes. "And you don't like what conclusion you've drawn. Tell me, Hermione, who is it that's left you twisted up like this?"
"The scientists, Dr. Hampton and Dr. Saxon. It's just looking back on it with a fresh perspective, I realize how questionable some of the things they allowed me to do were. I thought they were my friends, but they had to have known what was going on. MI5 was grooming me. If they'd truly been my friends, they wouldn't have allowed that, right?"
Flitwick didn't have an answer other than to say, "I'm sorry, Hermione."
She looked away, her throat clogged with tears as she whispered, "Yeah, me too."
A/N: Sorry for the slowed updates, but I'm afraid I'm back to my day job. Unfortuately, until I can make enough money on my writing to not be a teacher, them's the breaks. Since it is an especially busy time of the year right now, this might be my last post for a while.
