Hermione Granger and the Displaced Sorting
Harry Potter Fanfiction
Chapter 14
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: Sorry. Life got in the way a bit. School's rough this year, so don't expect another update until maybe Christmas break. I haven't published a book since April. For reference, I usually publish 3 books a year, so I'm very far behind. All of my spare time after teaching is directed into that. But, I'm also a serial procrastinator, so you get this gem today! Savor it if you can.
October 14th, 1992
Hermione hated Wednesdays, and this one was no different. She always started exhausted and tempted to snooze her morning training by the time six o'clock rolled around after the midnight astronomy class where they used their three hours of lectures into practical application by gazing at the stars.
Why the professors thought young students needed to wait until midnight when the sky darkened in the Scottish Highlands around eight, she would never know, but she always felt herself dragging the next day.
As a double dose of unpleasantness, she also had flying class, and after curfew, she'd have to try to pay attention to Farley and Sallow's "tutelage" while trying not to shift in awkwardness as they fought in their strange way with one another.
It was going to be a long day.
She powered through the next two hours of endurance and training before returning back to the dorms. She dozed with her head against the stone wall as the showerhead rained hot water over her taxed muscles. Only a stinging hex to her shoulder brought her back awake with a hiss.
She grabbed her shoulder with her free hand, her shield springing back in place as she glanced around at the shocked look of Tracey Davis. Somehow, the idea that the girl hadn't even really intended to land a hit only added insult to injury, mostly because of the implications.
The idea that it was second nature just to try to harm her with a spell implied that they wouldn't give up, and she'd have to constantly be on her guard.
Hermione detested the idea of not feeling safe enough while isolated in her living quarters to go without her shield. It was exhausting—probably why she had lapsed in the first place.
Barely managing to keep her eyes from flaring magnesium white, Hermione held eye contact with her dormmate as she flicked her hand out to her side, low near her hips with her palm up, purposefully overpowering her shield so that it was very, very visible.
Davis's eyes rounded and her face paled as she stumbled back a step.
Figuring she'd given the girl enough time to really appreciate the significance of her control over the wandless magic, Hermione slowly raised that hand up, the shield expanding with the movement.
Tracey's eyes widened even further as she dropped her towel and clothes, fumbling back a few steps.
Hermione stalked forward, slow and careful as she threw her sweaty shirt back on to protect her modesty. She'd have to shower again, but it was baggy enough to cover everything, and she wouldn't have to sacrifice a hand holding up a towel if something happened.
By now, the shield had grown big enough that both Parkinson and Greengrass had to back away from the sinks where they'd been performing their regimen of beauty charms.
"If you don't want to share amicably," Hermione began in a calm tone that contradicted the crackling display of power. "Then, fine. We won't share."
She'd backed them to the doorway by now, and she'd made sure they wouldn't hit anything before giving a final burst of expansion, effectively knocking them off their feet and into the dorm.
Bulstrode, who was a notoriously late sleeper, ran into view, her wand tip glowing, only to catch sight of Hermione and pause.
Hermione didn't drop the shield. "I'll let you know when I'm done, girls."
Bulstrode snorted and walked forward, pocketing her wand at the last second and manually shutting the bathroom door for her.
Hermione sagged, running out of power to maintain such a strong protective shield, but unwilling to drop it entirely. Wanting to make her point, she allowed it to thin instead of shrinking. It was invisible now, but they still wouldn't be able to just waltz back into the room without working for it.
She ripped her baggy, damp shirt off as she stumbled to the sinks, wincing at the sight of her swollen shoulder.
She'd either have to get that checked out in the Hospital Wing or have Flitwick fix it. Neither really appealed to her at the moment, considering the long list of tasks she had ahead of her.
Her morning today consisted of double herbology followed by history. Neither of those required any wand-waving as Snape would call it—and she tried her best to keep a straight face anytime he did use the phrase in a derogatory way, not insulted at all since she still recalled the reverent way the goblins had called her Wand-Waver—after succeeding in the trials, of course.
So, both of those classes would be doable since they didn't require physical exertion, especially as the hex had struck her non-dominant arm. She could endure and debate which option sounded better before lunch and then have an hour to get it fixed.
She finished getting ready, shrank the size of her shield and left it invisible, not wanting them to see any fear, and strode out into the dorm with her head held high. No one spoke a word, not daring to move, apart from Bulstrode who entered the bathroom before Hermione fully made it out into the moat hall where the dormitories more resembled townhouse front stoops with their twin lanterns, ornate walnut doors, and arched brick façade.
Underfoot, various fish swam almost in time with the rumbling tempo of the intricate wrought iron catwalk. The fencing and bright light filtering through the stained-glass mermaid scenes overhead further added to the outdoor feel. She had to hand it to Salazar Slytherin. Despite being buried so many feet below ground and beneath the lake, the space certainly didn't feel like a typical castle dungeon, apart from the ever-present chill.
She'd been grateful for Ignis more than once when she'd been sleeping, only for a Hogwarts ghost to make themselves known, compounding the cold ache that inched up her outer extremities. Ignis just had to curl into her neck and share his fire to help chase away the worst of it.
Thankfully, there weren't as many unadjusted ghosts at Hogwarts, so the visits were few and far between, though she had enjoyed her talks with the ghost everyone called the Bloody Baron, or as she'd taken to calling him, Baron Bernard.
Hermione hadn't understood how the stinging hex would continue to affect her, swelling bigger the longer she ignored it, until her face was constantly pinched in pain, drawing the notice of others.
"What's wrong, mudblood?" Malfoy asked. "Does the thought of being so closely related to animals keep you up at night?"
Hermione turned, frowning at him.
The fact that Parkinson, or any of the Slytherin girls, hadn't at least tittered in support seemed to unsettle Malfoy. She drank in his disconcertion as he glanced around for support no one offered. That reaction would have to suffice since she lacked the energy for anything more elaborate.
She sat in the back of the classroom in History of Magic, hoping to put her head down for once, like any other student in Binns' class, and breathe through the pain, but luck wasn't on her side.
"Miss Granger, are you alright?" Professor Binns inquired as he phased through the blackboard right on time, a piece of chalk hovering near him to begin writing key aspects of his lesson on command.
With great effort, she heaved herself upright and flashed a tight smile. "Yes, professor."
To make a bad situation worse, the brief interaction, far outside the norm, had students taking notice, and yellow and green alike had already begun eyeing the exchange with interest, if not downright shock.
Professor Binns hesitated for a moment before he shook his head. "No, I'm quite certain that you're not alright. You're doing exceptionally well in your studies, so it won't be any bother for you to miss one lecture. I'm sending you to the Hospital Wing, post haste."
With little choice left in the matter, and not wanting to remain within earshot of the whispers and side-eyes cast her way, Hermione nodded, gathered her possessions with some difficulty using her good arm before deciding that while she was still injured and vulnerable. It wouldn't exactly hurt to show the girls that the bathroom incident hadn't been a fluke. She flicked her good hand, enclosing her belongings into an invisible shield and floating them along behind her.
Even though the talking rose in alarm, Binns resumed teaching the lesson as if he didn't notice the real lack of attention from his audience, if he noticed his audience at all.
With Flitwick currently teaching, she had no choice but to make the long trek back across the waterway into the residential side Hogwarts. The Hospital Wing was fairly empty when she arrived, apart from a student with dark brown tentacles growing from his head and a student, dead asleep from some mishap or another.
Despite feeling that the ear tentacles were a bigger problem, especially when one viscous, suction-cupped appendage wetly slapped the poor Gryffindor across the face, the matron ignored the boy's discomfort as she moved to Hermione, only calling back over her shoulder, "You really should've known better by now, Mr. Jordan. You and the twins need to stop testing experimental potions on each other."
"Yes, Madam Pomf—eee!" One of the tentacles had shoved into his nasal cavity.
Hermione's eyes widened now that she recognized the voice, too focused on the sight of actual animated tentacles coming from a person's head to identify the owner. "Lee?"
Lee fought to pull the tentacle from his face, each suction cup popping off painfully, one at a time. "Hey, Granger."
Hermione glanced at the matron. "Isn't there anything you can do?"
"I'm afraid not, was it Miss Granger, he said?" Hermione nodded in affirmation, unable to help but feel for the fourth-year boy. The mediwitch continued. "I'm Madam Pomfrey. What brings you here?"
"Oh, Professor Binns sent me. He said it was okay to miss the lesson."
Lee sharply turned in her direction at the statement, shaking his hands frantically. She watched in morbid fascination as the tentacles seemed to transmit the boy's urgency, curling in a frenzy. Hermione didn't know what he was trying to warn her against, until the matron gave her a sharp look.
Madam Pomfrey's lips thinned. "Ah, Miss Granger. I remember you now. While I'm well aware this is your first year, don't think I'll go easy on you for bluffing. As knowledgeable as Professor Binns is on the history prior to his death, he is not the keenest of observer of the living, as evidenced by his curriculum that doesn't include anything beyond the last goblin rebellion. So, what really brings you here?"
Instead of arguing, Hermione tossed aside her robes and jerked the neck of her jumper to the side.
Madam Pomfrey's eyes narrowed as she turned to get something while Lee's widened, the tentacles around his face flinching back.
Hermione marveled at whatever experiment the Weasley twins and Lee had been doing that ended up with such sentient appendages that so closely mirrored the host's thoughts.
Unwilling to hide her thoughts, Hermione allowed a tremulous grin through her pain as she told Lee as much, and succinctly summarized with a breathless, "Brilliant."
Lee straightened while each of the tentacles did a proud little wiggle, dusting themselves off.
"Oh, don't encourage them," Madam Pomfrey ordered as she returned with a pestle of paste. "They're already intractable to their own detriment, as evidenced." Madam Pomfrey waved her wand, drawing the curtains shut for privacy. "Between you and me, I could've figured out how to undo whatever shenanigans they'd pulled off, but I thought it'd do him some good to suffer through a teachable lesson."
The smug twinkle in the stern matron's eyes pulled a full grin from Hermione. Since Lee didn't yelp in protest, she could only assume that Pomfrey had also cast some sort of aural privacy charm as well. "So you're going to leave him like that?"
The Mediwitch gestured for her to remove her top and began applying a paste that smelled strongly of herbs and spearmint. "No, he's been here for half an hour already. I was on the verge of giving in when you arrived, giving me the fortitude and excuse to prolong his suffering a bit more."
Hermione tilted her head. "He does look a bit like a kicked puppy."
Pomfrey's stern expression returned once more, drawing the curtain on a glimpse of the cheeky, smart girl she must've been in her youth. "You know, if you'd come by earlier, we might've been able to do something to mitigate the worst of the stinging hex."
Hermione's gaze dropped. "I didn't know that."
"Is there some reason you decided to prolong your suffering instead of coming straight here?"
"I didn't want to miss classes."
"Miss Granger, sometimes things are more important than academics—"
"I know that, but… I didn't want to give them the satisfaction." That stopped Pomfrey's lecture. Hermione cleared her throat. "I had double herbology and history, neither of which required any wand-waving. I thought I could power through until lunch."
Pomfrey was quiet as she sent three coils of gauze material wrapping not just her shoulder but a good portion of her upper arm and torso as well.
Just how much had the spell spread?
The soft material contained some sort of cooling agent that nearly brought Hermione to tears at the instant relief from the hot swelling.
As Pomfrey cleaned up with efficient flicks of her wand, she said, "You're Muggle-born, right?"
"And in Slytherin," Hermione affirmed, wondering why it was so easy to confide in this virtual stranger. She should've had difficulties trusting women authority figures after Ms. Walker at MI5. But Madam Pomfrey, much like Professor McGonagall, seemed to slip beneath her armor.
"Yes. You know… your head of house might seem unapproachable, but you might be surprised—"
"No!" Hermione blurted before deliberately calming her reaction. "I mean, I'm confident this incident won't be repeated, and it's fairly isolated considering the circumstances." Mudblood. In Slytherin. She was extremely lucky only her dormmates had done anything. "But if I'm seen whinging to authority figures—"
"No need to explain Ms. Granger. You know, most students assume I was in Hufflepuff, I'm sure. They'd probably be aghast to realize I used to be a snake."
"Y-You? But—"
"Quite," Madam Pomfrey snipped. "Recall the scene you arrived to here."
Right, slyly teaching a student a lesson by allowing him to suffer through his own consequences.
The matron held out a thin hospital gown since there was no way her shirt would fit over the plethora of bandaging making her resemble a marshmallow. "Now, if you're not going to allow anyone to intervene on your behalf, I'm afraid I must insist that you remain here for the night. No arguments, Ms. Granger."
Hermione barely had time to pull the hospital gown up over herself with a yelp before Pomfrey sent the curtains flying back open.
Lee had been standing just on the other side of the curtain, and he and his dark brown tentacles jerked back with a start.
"That'll be enough trying to spy, Mr. Lee. One would think you'd been a regular patient here enough to know you can't beat the privacy runes."
Lee, for his part, didn't appear too ruffled. He rocked back on his heels, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he offered a smile. "Not yet, Madam Pomfrey, but we will."
"Call if you need anything, Ms. Granger. I'll let the House Elves know to bring your lunch and supper here."
And that was that.
A/N: This chapter sort of got away from me. I outlined a 30 chapter story like I do for all my books for Year 2, and both Lee Jordan and Madam Pomfrey were a surprise. This chapter was supposed to involve Luna and classes. This exact reason is why I've warned that now we're at Hogwarts and within the overwhelmingly tempting playground of JK Rowling, that all pacing and reasonable word counts are off. Hope you're prepared for the long haul, folks.