King's Cross station was a whirlwind of noise and movement, with the sharp hiss of train brakes and the low murmur of conversations filling the air. The bustling crowds seemed endless, a sea of hurried travelers with faces blurred by the rush of the morning. Hermione Granger wove through the throngs of Muggles, her gaze focused on the familiar path ahead. The station, bathed in the soft morning light filtering through the arched glass ceiling, felt like a bridge between two worlds—one she was leaving behind and the one she was about to reenter. Her trolley rattled slightly as it bumped along the uneven tiles, the clatter echoing faintly off the high walls. The weight of her trunk and the restless shifting of Crookshanks made it harder to navigate the crowd.
"Sorry," Hermione mumbled quickly as she accidentally nudged a businessman with her trolley. He glanced down at her with a brief frown, his briefcase swinging at his side as he hurried away, already forgotten in the tide of people.
Finally, the sight she'd been waiting for appeared before her—the solid, unassuming barrier between Platforms 9 and 10. The brickwork, aged and soot-stained, seemed ordinary to the passing Muggles, but to Hermione, it held the promise of another world. Taking a deep breath, she pushed her trolley forward, feeling the odd, familiar sensation as she crossed over into the magical world.
The transition was seamless yet profound. One moment, she was surrounded by the drab grays and blues of Muggle London; the next, she was immersed in a world of rich, vivid colors and the unmistakable buzz of magic. The Hogwarts Express stood proudly on the tracks, its scarlet engine gleaming in the morning light as a thick plume of steam billowed overhead. The platform was alive with the vibrant hues of wizard robes—deep purples, bright greens, and inky blacks swirling together as students and their families milled about. The air was filled with the excited chatter of students reunited after the summer, the occasional hoot of an owl, and the faint tinkling of a distant bell.
Hermione paused for a moment, taking in the scene. The familiar scents of the wizarding world—fresh parchment, polished wood, and a faint, comforting whiff of something sweet and spicy—wrapped around her like a warm blanket. The sounds, the sights, the smells—it was like stepping back into a memory, one she had sorely missed during the summer holidays. There was a sense of belonging here that she never quite felt anywhere else.
As she stood there, savoring the moment, Hermione's eyes wandered over the platform. First-year students clung nervously to their parents, their wide eyes taking in the overwhelming sights. A small girl with curly brown hair clutched her mother's hand, her bottom lip trembling as she looked up at the towering train. Older students greeted each other with shouts of joy, exchanging tales of their summer exploits with loud, animated gestures. Luggage trolleys clattered over the uneven stones, adding to the cacophony that filled the platform.
Seventh year. Her final year at Hogwarts. The thought filled her with a mix of excitement and melancholy. How had time flown by so quickly? The years had blurred together, a rush of classes, friendships, and battles fought in the shadows.
Steeling herself, Hermione adjusted her grip on the trolley and made her way towards the train. The Weasley family soon came into view through the throng, their familiar red hair like beacons among the crowd. Despite the dwindling numbers on Platform 9 ¾, the sight of the Weasleys always brought her comfort. Ginny was the first to spot her, abandoning her trolley with a grin and rushing over, her long hair bouncing with every step.
"Hermione!" Ginny's voice was bright with excitement as she threw her arms around her in a warm hug. "Can you believe it's your last year?"
Hermione returned the hug, the warmth of Ginny's embrace soothing some of the nervous energy that had been building up in her. "I know, Ginny. It feels surreal. I can't believe I'm leaving you all alone next year," she said with a playful pout, pretending to wipe away a tear.
Ginny laughed, a carefree sound that rose above the din of the platform. "Oh, please! You'll be off doing something amazing, and I'll be here managing without you."
"Who says you won't be the one doing amazing things?" Hermione teased, nudging her back as they began walking towards the rest of the Weasley clan. The stones beneath their feet were warm from the morning sun, their steps echoing in the space between the bursts of laughter and conversation. "Have you heard anything about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"
Ginny shook her head, her expression turning thoughtful as she scanned the crowd. "No idea. I guess we'll find out soon enough. Though, considering the position's been cursed for years, whoever it is probably won't last long."
Hermione chuckled softly, the sound barely audible over the clamor around them. "True. It's almost tradition at this point, isn't it?"
As they reached the Weasleys, Hermione wasn't surprised to see Harry standing next to Ron, both of them looking just as eager to board the train as she was. Harry's trolley bore Hedwig's cage, the snowy owl peering out with sharp, intelligent eyes, her feathers ruffling slightly as a group of giggling third years passed by.
"Hermione, dear!" Mrs. Weasley's voice was warm and welcoming as she pulled Hermione into a tight hug. The smell of freshly baked bread and the faint scent of floral perfume clung to Mrs. Weasley, a comforting combination that reminded Hermione of the Burrow. "It's so good to see you!"
Hermione hugged her back, feeling the familiar comfort of Mrs. Weasley's embrace. "It's good to see you too, Mrs. Weasley."
Mrs. Weasley's eyes sparkled with warmth as she released Hermione. Harry stepped forward, his green eyes bright behind his round glasses.
"Hey, Hermione!" Harry greeted her with his usual lopsided grin, pulling her into a quick hug. "Miss us?"
Ron, standing beside him, offered a mock-sulky look as he shook her hand. "Yeah, missed us and our bickering?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. "Of course I did. Who else would I have to remind me to lighten up every now and then?"
Their laughter mingled with the sounds of the platform, a welcome reminder of the camaraderie they had built over the years. The warmth of the moment made the chilly breeze coming off the train tracks feel less biting, wrapping them in a cocoon of friendship. But before long, the train whistle blew, a sharp, clear note that signaled the time for goodbyes.
"All aboard!" a conductor called out, his voice cutting through the hubbub.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley hurried them onto the train, their goodbyes tinged with the usual mix of pride and worry. "Now, don't forget to write as soon as you get settled," Mrs. Weasley instructed, her eyes misty with tears that glistened in the sunlight.
"We promise, Mum," Ron assured her, giving her one last hug before they boarded. The train began to move just as they found an empty compartment, the wheels clattering against the tracks as they pulled out of the station. The vibrations of the train hummed through the floor, a steady rhythm that matched the thrum of excitement in the air.
As the Hogwarts Express chugged along, the compartment soon filled with lively chatter. The rhythmic clatter of the train on the tracks provided a steady backdrop to their conversations, a familiar sound that lulled them into a comfortable rhythm. Ginny was recounting the highlights of her summer at the Burrow, her voice animated as she described the chaotic family dinners and impromptu Quidditch matches in the orchard. The sunlight streamed through the windows, casting warm, golden patches on the worn, burgundy seats and the polished wood of the compartment. Outside, the countryside blurred past in a mosaic of green fields, wild hedgerows, and distant, rolling hills, occasionally broken by the glittering flash of a stream or the solitary silhouette of a farmhouse.
The door slid open with a soft creak, and Luna Lovegood drifted in, her ethereal presence bringing a touch of whimsy to the already cozy space. She carried a slightly dog-eared copy of The Quibbler under her arm, the edges of the parchment curling slightly from use, and her radish earrings swung gently with each step she took. The scent of ink and old paper followed her in, mingling with the earthy smell of the countryside that seeped through the slightly open window.
"Hello, everyone," Luna greeted them, her voice soft and melodic, as if she were sharing a secret with the air itself. She settled into the seat beside Ginny with a serene smile. "I've been on the trail of Blibbering Humdingers all summer. No sign of them yet, but I'm sure they're out there, just waiting to be found."
Ginny grinned, clearly entertained by Luna's ever-curious nature. "You'll have to take me along next time, Luna. Sounds like a real adventure."
Luna's eyes brightened at the suggestion, the corners of her mouth lifting into a dreamlike smile. "Oh, you'd love it! We could make a whole expedition of it—just imagine what we might discover together. The world is full of wonders if you know where to look."
The compartment door slid open again, this time with more force, as Neville Longbottom joined them, his face alight with enthusiasm. His cheeks were slightly flushed from excitement, and he carried a small pot with him, the leaves of a plant peeking over the rim. "You wouldn't believe how fast my Mimbulus mimbletonia's been growing! I swear it's doubled in size over the summer."
Hermione leaned forward, genuinely impressed as she inspected the plant. The Mimbulus mimbletonia's dark green, knobby surface was dotted with tiny, pulsating boils that looked ready to spray Stinksap at the slightest provocation. "That's brilliant, Neville," she said, nodding in approval. "You'll have to show me once we're back at school. I've been meaning to brush up on my Herbology—maybe I'll come by the greenhouses more often."
Neville's face lit up even more, if that were possible. His eyes sparkled with the joy of sharing his passion. "Anytime, Hermione! I've got a few other plants I think you'd find interesting too. I've even started crossbreeding some—"
Ron, sprawled lazily across his seat with one arm draped over the backrest, groaned dramatically, interrupting Neville's enthusiastic explanation. "Blimey, Neville, you're starting to sound like Hermione with all this 'studying' talk. We're supposed to be relaxing, remember?"
Hermione shot Ron a mock glare, though her eyes twinkled with amusement. "Some of us enjoy learning, Ron. Not everything has to be about food and Quidditch, you know."
Harry chuckled, nudging Ron with his elbow. "Don't worry, mate. We'll have plenty of time for both."
The sunlight outside began to soften, casting long, golden rays across the compartment. The light played off the polished surfaces of their trunks and the rich, wooden paneling, giving the space a warm, almost nostalgic glow. The countryside had started to darken with the approach of evening, the colors outside deepening into shades of amber and shadow as the sun dipped lower on the horizon.
Ginny leaned back in her seat, her eyes narrowing playfully as she looked at Harry. "Speaking of which, we need to get our Quidditch team sorted this year. No more slacking off in practice, Harry. We've got the Cup to win."
Harry grinned back, his competitive spirit clearly piqued. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking with Ginny's in a playful challenge. "Is that a challenge, Weasley?"
"Absolutely," Ginny shot back without missing a beat, her tone confident. "You'd better be ready, Potter. I'm not going easy on you this year."
Luna watched the exchange with her usual serene smile, her voice drifting into the conversation like a soft breeze. "Maybe we'll find some Wrackspurts on the pitch this year. They tend to hang around places where people concentrate too hard."
Ron rolled his eyes, though the corner of his mouth twitched with suppressed laughter. "Great, just what we need—more distractions."
Hermione laughed, the sound blending with the rhythmic clatter of the train and the soft rustle of pages as Luna flipped through her magazine. As the countryside outside began to fade into twilight, the interior of the compartment grew more intimate, the warm light of the setting sun casting long, comforting shadows. The world outside felt distant and serene, while inside, the warmth of friendship kept the cold at bay.
"Well," Hermione said, glancing around at her friends, her voice softening as she took in the familiar faces around her, "whatever this year brings, I'm glad we're all in it together."
"Cheers to that," Harry agreed, lifting an imaginary glass in a playful toast, his grin widening as the others followed suit.
"Here's to another year of adventures," Ginny added, her tone filled with excitement and a hint of mischief.
"To another year of dodging Snape's detentions," Ron chimed in, earning a round of laughter from the group.
The others echoed his sentiment, their voices mingling with the steady rhythm of the train as it carried them onward.
The train gradually slowed as it pulled into Hogsmeade Station, the familiar whistle echoing through the crisp evening air. Outside the window, the platform was bathed in the soft glow of the station lamps, casting long shadows that danced across the cobblestones. Hermione felt a flutter of excitement as she stood, smoothing out the creases in her robes and making sure everything was neatly packed away in their compartment.
"Ready?" Harry asked, his voice tinged with the same anticipation Hermione felt.
"Absolutely," Hermione replied, glancing around to ensure they hadn't left anything behind. Crookshanks, already awake and alert, meowed softly as she secured her wand in her robe pocket.
They stepped off the Hogwarts Express, the cool night air biting pleasantly at their cheeks. The familiar, comforting scent of pine trees and damp earth filled Hermione's senses, bringing back memories of all the years before. As they made their way down the platform, they spotted Hagrid, towering over the sea of first years who gathered around him, wide-eyed and chattering with excitement.
"'Ello, you lot!" Hagrid greeted them with a broad grin, his beetle-black eyes twinkling under the brim of his large, shaggy hat. "Good ter see ya back! Been keepin' well, I hope?"
"Hi, Hagrid!" Harry called back, waving. "We're doing great! How about you?"
"Busy as ever," Hagrid replied with a chuckle, ushering the first years towards the waiting boats. "Gotta get these little ones across the Black Lake. Can't wait fer them ter see the castle fer the first time—it's a sight, that's fer sure."
Hermione smiled, watching the first years as they followed Hagrid towards the boats, their faces lit with a mix of nervousness and awe. The sight of the castle from the lake was one of her most treasured memories, a magical moment that had marked the true beginning of her journey at Hogwarts.
As they left the platform and joined the other upper-year students, they made their way to the carriages that awaited them, each one pulled by Thestrals. The skeletal, winged creatures stood patiently, their white, eerie eyes gleaming in the dim light. Hermione's gaze lingered on the Thestrals for a moment. When Harry had first asked if she could see them, she had pretended not to, unsure of how to explain the strange, almost paradoxical beauty she found in their gaunt forms. They were hauntingly elegant, their leathery wings folded neatly against their sides, and though they might have seemed intimidating, they held a quiet grace that Hermione had come to appreciate.
"Strange how something can be so ugly and beautiful at the same time," she murmured to herself as they climbed into the carriage.
The journey to Hogwarts was peaceful, the carriages trundling steadily along the darkened path that wound through the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The dense canopy of trees above cast shadows that flickered and shifted with the movement of the Thestrals, creating an ever-changing tapestry of light and dark. Inside the carriage, the conversation flowed easily, a mix of light-hearted banter and excitement about the year to come.
"You think the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor will be any good?" Ron asked, leaning back in his seat, his voice carrying a hint of skepticism.
"They can't be worse than Umbridge," Ginny replied, her tone dry.
Harry nodded, his expression thoughtful. "As long as they actually teach us something useful, I'll be happy."
"Well, whoever they are, they've got their work cut out for them," Hermione added, a note of seriousness in her voice. "This year's going to be intense—N.E.W.T.s and everything else."
Neville, who had been quietly listening, nodded in agreement. "I just hope they're someone who knows what they're doing. We could really use that."
As the castle finally came into view, the conversation quieted. The towering spires of Hogwarts loomed against the backdrop of the night sky, illuminated by the silvery glow of the moon. The sight was breathtaking, the ancient stone walls and turrets bathed in an ethereal light that made the castle seem almost otherworldly. Hermione felt a familiar swell of emotion—nostalgia mingled with the anticipation of what lay ahead. No matter how many times she saw it, the sight of Hogwarts always filled her with a sense of awe.
The carriages came to a halt, and they stepped out, their feet crunching softly on the gravel path as they joined the throng of students making their way to the castle. The great doors loomed before them, and as they crossed the threshold, Hermione felt the warmth of the castle envelop her like a comforting embrace. The soft glow of the torches lit the way as they entered the Great Hall, the enchanted ceiling reflecting the star-filled sky above.
Hermione took her usual seat at the Gryffindor table, surrounded by the familiar faces of her housemates. The Great Hall buzzed with the excitement of students reuniting after the summer, their laughter and chatter filling the space with a joyful energy. Plates and goblets appeared on the long wooden tables, gleaming in the warm light of the hundreds of floating candles that hovered above.
"Tell me everything about your summer!" Lavender Brown demanded, leaning across the table with an eager grin.
"Oh, it was nice—mostly just reading and spending time with my parents," Hermione replied, smiling as she listened to the animated stories her friends shared. "How about yours?"
Lavender launched into a tale about a particularly dramatic trip to Diagon Alley, complete with an exaggerated reenactment that had everyone at the table laughing. Seamus Finnigan jumped in, recounting a chaotic day when his cousin accidentally turned their family's pet dog into a footstool, causing another round of laughter.
"That's nothing," Ron said, shaking his head with a grin. "Fred and George came up with some new prank sweets—they gave one to Percy without telling him, and he turned completely blue for a whole day. Mum was livid, but we couldn't stop laughing."
"That sounds like something they'd do," Ginny added, smirking. "They've been up to all sorts of things this summer. I'm just glad they didn't test any on me."
"Did you try any of their new stuff?" Neville asked, his eyes wide with curiosity.
"Not willingly," Ron replied, shuddering slightly. "They tricked me into eating one of their Canary Creams—feathers everywhere."
Hermione rolled her eyes, though she couldn't help but smile. "You'd think you'd be more careful around those two by now."
"Oh, believe me, I'm careful," Ron said, his voice full of mock indignation. "But they're sneaky. They've got tricks you wouldn't believe."
As the laughter died down, Harry leaned closer to Hermione, his voice quieter now. "Still wondering who the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor is?"
"Constantly," Hermione admitted, glancing towards the staff table where the professors were taking their seats. The empty chair at the center of the table seemed to draw her attention like a magnet. "I can't help but be curious. It's such an important subject, especially now."
Dean Thomas, who had been listening in, nodded in agreement. "Whoever it is, they've got big shoes to fill. We've had some pretty tough professors in that role—Lupin, Moody… even Snape."
"Not to mention Lockhart," Ron added with a smirk, causing the others to groan in unison.
"Let's just hope they're not another fraud," Hermione said, her tone only half-joking. "We really need someone who can prepare us for what's out there."
Neville glanced at the staff table, his expression serious. "Do you think it could be someone we know?"
"Could be," Harry said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the possibility. "But I guess we'll find out soon enough."
Yet, even as she laughed and chatted with her friends, her curiosity about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor remained. The empty seat at the staff table seemed to loom larger as the evening wore on, a quiet reminder that this year might bring more changes than any of them could foresee.
The lively chatter at the Gryffindor table was suddenly interrupted as the massive oak doors of the Great Hall swung open with a soft creak. All eyes turned towards the entrance, where Professor McGonagall stood tall and composed, leading a line of nervous first years into the hall. The room fell into a hushed anticipation, the excitement in the air replaced by the solemnity of the moment. The flickering candlelight above reflected off the polished marble floor as the new students followed McGonagall to the front of the hall, their wide eyes drinking in the grandeur of the enchanted ceiling, which mirrored the starry night sky outside.
Hermione felt a familiar flutter of excitement as she watched the young students approach the ancient Sorting Hat, now placed reverently on the four-legged stool at the front of the hall. The hat, tattered and worn, seemed almost alive as it shifted slightly on the stool, preparing for its yearly duty.
"Remember when we were up there?" Ron whispered, a nostalgic smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Feels like forever ago."
Hermione nodded, her eyes never leaving the Sorting Hat. "It does. I remember being so nervous—wondering where I'd end up."
"Like there was any doubt," Harry added with a grin. "You were always meant to be in Gryffindor."
Before Hermione could respond, the Sorting Hat's brim opened wide, and it began its song. The hall fell silent as the hat's voice filled the space, recounting the founding of the school and the unique qualities valued by each of the four houses. The song was different each year, and this time it spoke of the strength in unity and the importance of courage in the face of adversity.
As the last note of the song echoed into silence, McGonagall stepped forward, unrolling a long scroll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will come forward, place the Sorting Hat on your head, and be sorted into your house," she instructed, her voice firm but kind.
The first name was called, and a small girl with curly red hair stepped forward, her hands trembling slightly as she picked up the hat and placed it on her head. The room held its breath as the hat considered for a moment before shouting, "Hufflepuff!"
The Hufflepuff table erupted into cheers, and the girl hurried over, looking relieved. Hermione clapped politely, a warm smile on her face as she remembered her own Sorting. She glanced around the hall, noticing the different reactions from the older students—some watching with keen interest, others chatting quietly among themselves.
As the Sorting continued, Hermione felt a sense of connection to each new student who passed under the brim of the Sorting Hat. She watched as a tall, gangly boy nervously approached the stool, his knees knocking together. The hat barely touched his head before it called out, "Ravenclaw!" The boy's face broke into a broad grin as he hurried over to join his new housemates.
A few more students were sorted—one into Slytherin, two into Hufflepuff—before a girl with a long braid and freckles was called. She walked up to the stool with a determined look, though her hands shook slightly as she placed the hat on her head. The hat took a bit longer with her, mumbling to itself before finally declaring, "Gryffindor!"
"Another one for us!" Seamus Finnigan said, clapping enthusiastically as the Gryffindor table cheered and welcomed their new housemate. The girl, blushing furiously, hurried over to the table and took a seat, looking both excited and overwhelmed.
Neville leaned over to Hermione and whispered, "I always wonder what the hat's saying when it takes a while like that. Must be trying to decide between two houses."
Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "Probably. It's a big decision, after all."
As the Sorting continued, more names were called, and the four tables filled with new faces. The last student, a boy with a shock of white-blond hair and a serious expression, was called forward. He took the hat in his hands and placed it carefully on his head. The hat deliberated for a moment before shouting, "Slytherin!"
The Slytherin table erupted into applause, their cheers slightly more reserved but still proud. The boy walked confidently over to join his housemates, taking his seat with a nod of acknowledgment.
With the Sorting complete, Professor McGonagall rolled up the parchment and stepped back, her expression as composed as ever. Dumbledore rose from his chair at the center of the staff table, his presence commanding immediate attention. The hall fell into a respectful silence, the anticipation of what was to come hanging in the air.
"Welcome, welcome, to another year at Hogwarts," Dumbledore began, his voice resonating through the hall. There was a comforting familiarity to his tone, a blend of warmth and authority that had a way of putting everyone at ease. He spoke briefly about the year ahead, reminding the students of the school rules and emphasizing the importance of unity and respect.
As he spoke, Dumbledore's gaze shifted towards a door to the side of the staff table, and with a graceful sweep of his arm, he gestured towards it. Every head in the hall turned as the door opened, and in walked a man whose appearance immediately captured Hermione's attention. He was not at all what she had expected.
The man was of average height, his sandy hair slightly tousled as though he had run a hand through it one too many times. His robes were neat but worn, and there was a certain tiredness in his posture that suggested he had seen more than his share of hardships. But what stood out most were his eyes—soft and kind, with a depth that spoke of quiet wisdom and an enduring patience. There was a gentleness in his expression that seemed at odds with the rumors that had circulated about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
As he approached the staff table, Dumbledore continued, his voice carrying a note of sincere respect. "Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to introduce your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for this year, Professor Remus Lupin."
The Great Hall erupted into a wave of whispers and murmurs, curiosity buzzing through the crowd like electricity. Students exchanged glances, some looking surprised, others intrigued. Hermione could hear fragments of conversations around her—questions, speculations, and a few skeptical comments—but she remained silent, her gaze fixed on Professor Lupin as he reached the table.
He acknowledged the applause with a humble nod, his lips curving into a small, almost shy smile. There was something unassuming about him, a quiet confidence that didn't demand attention but instead invited it. Hermione couldn't help but feel a sense of intrigue, her mind racing with questions. This man, so different from the imposing figure she had expected, had already sparked her curiosity.
Ron leaned over, his voice low as he whispered to Harry, "Blimey, he doesn't look like much, does he?"
Harry shrugged, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched Lupin take his seat. "Maybe that's the point. Dumbledore wouldn't hire someone who couldn't do the job."
Hermione nodded, still watching as Professor Lupin settled into his chair. "There's more to him than meets the eye," she murmured thoughtfully. "He looks like he's been through a lot. I bet he knows exactly what he's doing."
Across the hall, Luna Lovegood's dreamy voice floated through the conversation. "He has kind eyes. I think he'll be a good teacher."
The trio fell silent as Dumbledore continued his speech, but Hermione's thoughts lingered on the new professor. There was something about him—something that made her feel both curious and hopeful. As Dumbledore finished with his usual, "Let the feast begin," and food appeared on the tables in a magical display, Hermione's gaze drifted back to Professor Lupin. She wondered what kind of lessons he would bring, what experiences had shaped the man sitting quietly at the staff table.
As she reached for a platter of roasted chicken, Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that this year, with Professor Lupin at the helm of Defense Against the Dark Arts, was going to be different. She just wasn't sure how yet.