The bustling noise of King's Cross Station filled the air as Molly, Arthur, Bill, Charlie, and Hermione made their way toward Platform 9. Hermione, pushing her trolley with her packed trunk, kept sneaking glances at her surroundings. It was a strange feeling, being back here, at the beginning of a new school year, yet in a time where everything felt just a bit off.
Bill, full of energy, skipped excitedly alongside her. "When can I go to Hogwarts?" he asked eagerly.
Charlie, barely old enough to understand what was happening, clung tightly to Molly's hand, his toy dragon clutched in his other fist. His wide, innocent eyes kept drifting to Hermione, and every few steps, he tugged at his mother's skirt, as if unwilling to let Hermione go.
"It won't be for a few more years, Bill," Molly said with a fond smile, ruffling his hair as they approached the hidden barrier between platforms. "But I'm sure Hermione will have plenty of stories when she gets back for Christmas."
Arthur was pushing the trolley for Hermione, keeping a close watch over his family. As they reached the barrier, he leaned down to Bill and Charlie. "You boys ready to see the magic?"
Bill nodded enthusiastically, but Charlie just blinked in confusion. Hermione couldn't help but smile at their innocence. It was a far cry from the lives they'd grow into—Bill as a brave curse-breaker and Charlie off taming dragons. But for now, they were just two young boys, looking at the world with wonder.
Molly went first with Charlie, disappearing smoothly through the barrier. Arthur followed with Bill almost making a game of it, and Hermione took a deep breath before stepping forward with the trolley. The familiar sensation of passing through the magic hit her, and she emerged on the other side, surrounded by the steam of the Hogwarts Express and the excited chatter of students and their families.
The platform was just as chaotic as ever, filled with the sound of trunks clattering, parents saying goodbye, and students reuniting after the summer break. Hermione's eyes scanned the crowd, and for a moment, she let herself breathe. This was familiar. This part of the experience hadn't changed.
As they made their way toward the train, something caught her eye—a family standing not far off. She immediately recognised Sirius Black from their run-in at Diagon Alley a few weeks ago, but this time, her gaze was drawn to the two adults standing beside him. His parents.
Sirius's father was speaking in a cold, low voice, his face set in a rigid expression of disappointment. His mother stood just as stiffly, her sharp features echoing Sirius's, but with none of the rebellious energy. Instead, her gaze was filled with cold judgement.
Sirius stood there, his jaw clenched, his body language screaming defiance, though Hermione could see the frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.
But as they walked past the Black family, Hermione's attention shifted to the boy standing beside Sirius—a boy who looked strikingly similar, though younger by maybe a year, and already wearing his uniform and Slytherin ties. He was standing straight and quiet, his posture the complete opposite of his older brother's, as if seeking approval from the parents who clearly preferred his obedience.
Hermione caught a snippet of conversation as they passed.
"Regulus, mind your brother this year," Mrs Black said sharply, her voice cutting through the din of the platform. "We can't have him associating with the wrong sort any longer."
Regulus, Hermione thought. She recognised the name, but only from scattered articles she had read in the future of this time. It hadn't fully dawned on her that Sirius had a brother—another casualty of the war, one who had been lost to the darkness of the Death Eaters.
She glanced at Regulus again. He seemed calm, almost distant, nothing like the mischievous spirit she had witnessed from Sirius in Diagon.
Sirius, on the other hand, looked like a ticking bomb now, barely containing his frustration. Hermione could see the tightness in his shoulders, the way his fists were clenched at his sides. It wasn't hard to see why Sirius had ended up rebellious and volatile. No wonder Sirius was so off-kilter in the future. It was clear, even now, that he was suffocating under his family's expectations. He was proudly wearing his Gryffindor tie haphazardly thrown over his clothes even before getting on the train.
It was clear from the few interactions she had seen that Sirius felt much more at home in the company of James than his parents, which made the fact that he had betrayed him all the more baffling.
She sighed softly, not wanting to dwell on it now. There was too much to process already without the added weight of future knowledge. But seeing Sirius and his family like this—along with his younger brother Regulus, who was inclined to follow whatever dark path his parents had laid out before him—left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Molly's voice pulled her back to the present.
"Do you have everything, dear?" Molly asked kindly, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder.
"Yes, I think so," Hermione said, her mind still half on what she had just witnessed.
Bill was practically bouncing with excitement. "Tell me everything when you get back, okay? I want to hear about all the secret passages and the magic tricks!"
"I will," Hermione promised with a smile, ruffling his hair.
Charlie, however, looked close to tears. He clung to her leg, refusing to let go, and whimpered, "Nooo."
Hermione crouched down and gave him a reassuring hug. "I'll be back before you know it, Charlie. I promise."
He sniffled, still not quite ready to release his grip on her. Molly gently pried him away, giving Hermione a sympathetic smile. "It'll be alright, dear. He's always a bit sensitive about goodbyes."
Arthur stepped forward and gave Hermione a warm, fatherly hug. "You take care now. And if you need anything, we are just an owl away."
"I will. Thank you… for everything," Hermione said, feeling a lump in her throat as she hugged them both. The Weasleys had been nothing short of wonderful, and it felt bittersweet leaving them, even though she was only going to Hogwarts.
With one final wave, she boarded the train, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves. This was it.
As the train began to move, Hermione wandered through the corridors with her trunk in tow, looking for an empty compartment. She didn't really know anyone yet and wasn't quite sure where to go. Most of the students she saw were busy reuniting with friends, and she felt a pang of loneliness as she walked past groups of laughing classmates.
Just as she was about to give up and settle into the first empty compartment she could find, she ran into a fiery red-haired girl in the corridor. The girl turned around, and Hermione was struck by the brightness of her green eyes.
Lily Potter.
There was no mistaking her. Though Hermione assumed her last name would be something else at this point, she just didn't know what it was yet. The resemblance was too strong. Hermione had seen those same eyes reflected in Harry's face countless times.
Behind Lily stood a boy with greasy black hair and a hooked nose. His expression was sullen, and Hermione knew instantly who he was: Severus Snape.
Seeing her old Potions professor as a teenager was almost funny. He already had that dour, brooding look about him, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. Hermione couldn't help but feel a slight twitch of discomfort. Snape had always been a strict, sometimes downright cruel teacher, especially toward Harry, but here he was, a teenager, standing beside Lily.
Lily's eyes lit up when she saw Hermione. "Oh, hello! You're new, right?"
Hermione blinked, caught off guard by the enthusiasm in Lily's voice. "Yes, I am. Hermione Prewett. Fourth year."
Lily smiled brightly. "Lily Evans. We're in the same year! Why don't you come and sit with us?"
Hermione glanced at Snape, who was glaring at her with clear annoyance. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his body language made it clear he wasn't thrilled about the idea of Hermione joining them. Still, Lily's warmth was infectious, and Hermione found herself nodding.
"Sure, that'd be nice."
Lily beamed, turning and leading the way down the corridor as Severus trailed behind, still scowling. As they walked, Lily glanced over her shoulder at Hermione. "Don't mind Sev, he's always grumpy."
Hermione hesitated for a moment before attempting a small, polite smile in Severus's direction. "Hi… Sev," she said, unsurely. It felt so wrong to call her future professor something so informal, but she didn't want to seem rude.
Snape's dark eyes flicked toward her, his lips curling into a sneer. "It's Snape to you," he grouched, his voice low and unfriendly. "My name is Severus Snape."
Lily rolled her eyes, clearly used to his prickly attitude. "Oh, stop it, Sev. She's trying to be nice."
Hermione flushed slightly, embarrassed. "Sorry, I didn't mean—"
But Snape had already turned his attention away, his mood clearly unchanged. Lily just laughed it off, waving Hermione's apology away as they entered the compartment.
"Don't worry about him," Lily said with a grin. "He'll warm up eventually… well, maybe."
Hermione smiled back, though inwardly, it felt strange to be sitting here with Lily and a teenage Snape. This was an odd thought—something she would have never imagined in a thousand years. Harry's mum and Snape being friends? It seemed surreal. She had always seen Snape as this bitter, grumpy teacher who held an inexplicable grudge against Harry from the moment he set foot in Hogwarts.
But here they were—Lily, warm and kind, and Snape, though dour and brooding, clearly close to her. What could have happened that made Snape hate Harry so much in the future? Hermione wondered, her mind racing.
Harry had always believed Snape hated him for no reason other than his connection to his father, James Potter. And then a thought struck Hermione so suddenly that she sat up straight, glancing between Lily and Snape. Was Snape so bitter… because Lily chose James over him?
The idea seemed to fall into place with startling clarity. Snape's constant grudge against Harry had always seemed irrational, but what if it wasn't just about James? What if it was about Lily? The thought made her chest tighten, and she quickly glanced away, trying not to stare too obviously at the two sitting in front of her.
"Are you all right?" Lily asked, noticing Hermione's sudden reaction, concern flickering in her green eyes.
"Yeah, sorry," Hermione said quickly, forcing a smile. "Just realised I forgot something at home. I'll have to owl Molly about it."
Snape's dark eyes narrowed slightly, clearly not buying her excuse, but before he could say anything, the compartment door slid open with a bang.
James Potter and Sirius Black swaggered in, laughing about something between themselves. James was twirling his wand, his eyes immediately locking onto Lily as soon as he entered.
"Evans!" he said with a grin, not even bothering to hide his cocky attitude. "Fancy seeing you here with Snivellus again."
Sirius smirked beside him, clearly enjoying whatever mischief was about to unfold.
Hermione's heart skipped a beat, not because of James's entrance—after all, she had seen him in Diagon Alley—but because of the sudden realisation that maybe James wasn't exactly the brave, noble person she had heard about from Hagrid and others. This wasn't the man she had imagined from stories of Harry's father. In fact, the way he was behaving now—taunting Snape and trying to show off—bordered on bullying. He was clearly full of himself, practically oozing arrogance, especially towards Snape.
James's grin widened as he sauntered over, clearly putting on a show. "How about a date, Evans? You know, I've got the first Hogsmeade weekend in mind."
Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief. This was the boy Lily ended up marrying? The boy who supposedly became a hero and sacrificed his life for his family? The arrogant, playful tone in his voice as he teased Lily made Hermione's stomach turn. It seemed so far removed from the image of the courageous James Potter she had built up in her mind. She couldn't even reconcile this picture with the James she had met briefly in Diagon Alley, who had been charming and polite.
Lily didn't even blink. She stood up, glaring at James with undisguised annoyance. "For the last time, Potter, no!"
Before James could react, she whipped out her wand and hit him with a hex that sent him stumbling back a step, his grin faltering.
"You're a complete toerag!" she snapped, her voice filled with frustration.
Sirius, however, burst into laughter, finding the entire scene amusing. "Classic, mate," he chuckled, patting James on the back as though getting hexed by Lily was all part of the fun.
Lily wasn't finished. "And you," she said, rounding on Sirius, "get out before I hex you too!"
Sirius raised his hands in mock surrender, his smirk still firmly in place. "Alright, alright, we're going," he said, but not before throwing a glance at Snape. "You got lucky this time, Snivellus."
With one last laugh, James and Sirius backed out of the compartment, leaving Lily fuming.
As soon as the door shut, Lily collapsed back onto her seat with an exasperated sigh. "Honestly, I don't know why he keeps doing that," she muttered, clearly fed up with James's constant pestering.
Hermione, still processing what had just happened, found herself speechless. How on earth do these two end up together and have Harry? Lily clearly despised James.
Meanwhile, Snape was sitting rigidly in his seat, his face twisted into a sour expression. His glare was still directed at the door where James and Sirius had just been. The tension in the compartment was thick, and Hermione could feel the animosity rolling off Snape in waves.
Snape finally spoke, his voice low and cold. "You shouldn't waste your time on people like him, Lily."
Lily glanced at Snape, her frustration still clear. "I know, Sev," she said, softer now. "But he's just… impossible."
Hermione sat there, still trying to wrap her head around everything. This was not the version of James she had expected, and seeing the clear bitterness between Snape and the Gryffindor boys left her even more confused about the future she knew.
What changed? she thought. How did James go from this to the man who married Lily and became Harry's father? It was a question that nagged at her, though it kind of explained why Snape's hatred for James—and eventually Harry—seemed so personal.
For now, all she could do was sit in silence, feeling the weight of this new, unexpected reality pressing down on her. Things weren't as simple as she had imagined, and the more she learned, the more complicated it all became.
"So, how come you are only starting Hogwarts now?" Lily asked, clearly desperate for a change in topic.
Hermione blinked, snapped out of her thoughts by the sudden question. She quickly composed herself, grateful for the distraction. "Oh, uh," she began, mentally going over the backstory Dumbledore and Molly had helped her craft. "I was homeschooled for most of my life. My parents thought it was better that way, but… they passed away recently, so I'm starting at Hogwarts now."
Lily's expression softened, and her eyes filled with sympathy. "Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that," she said quietly. "It must have been really hard for you."
Hermione nodded, trying to look appropriately sombre, though the weight of the lie made her feel uncomfortable. "It's been a bit of a difficult few months," she admitted, feeling at least that part was true. "But I'm really looking forward to starting Hogwarts."
Lily smiled gently. "You'll love it here. Hogwarts is a wonderful place. It's… it's home, really," she said, her voice filled with warmth.
Snape, who had remained silent for a while, finally spoke, though his voice was still edged with bitterness. "Better than any of the rubbish homes most of us come from," he muttered under his breath, his eyes flicking back to the compartment door where James and Sirius had exited.
Lily shot him a warning look, but she didn't contradict him. Instead, she turned back to Hermione. "So, do you know anyone here yet?"
Hermione shook her head. "Not really. I did run into Potter and Black back in Diagon in the summer, though they seemed much nicer then." She hesitated for a moment before asking the question that had been bothering her. "Why do they keep calling you Snivellus?"
The tension in the compartment shifted immediately. Lily's face darkened, and she glanced toward Snape, who stiffened at the mention of the nickname.
Snape's expression turned cold, his lips pressing into a thin line. "It's just one of their pathetic attempts at humour," he muttered, his voice bitter and full of resentment. "They think it's clever to make fun of people who aren't like them."
Hermione frowned, the harshness in his tone making her uncomfortable. She had seen James and Sirius tease him earlier, but the nickname had seemed particularly cruel. It wasn't like the playful banter she'd imagined between school rivals. This felt… mean-spirited.
Lily sighed, her frustration evident. "They've been calling him that for years," she explained, her eyes flicking to Hermione with sympathy. "It started when we were younger, and Sev… well, he used to be a bit more… sensitive. They picked up on it and just wouldn't stop."
Snape's jaw clenched. "You don't need to explain it, Lily," he said sharply, not meeting her gaze.
Lily looked guilty but continued anyway. "It's not right. I've told James to stop, but he never listens. It's like he thinks it's funny to get a reaction." She paused, her frustration deepening. "Honestly, Potter and Black can be such arrogant prats sometimes."
"I'm sorry they treat you like that," Hermione said quietly, unsure of how else to respond.
Snape gave a small, curt nod, but his expression didn't soften. It was clear that this kind of treatment from James and Sirius had left its mark on him, and Hermione couldn't help but wonder how much it had shaped the man he would become in her time.
Lily looked over at Snape with a sad smile. "You don't deserve it, Sev," she said softly. "You know that, right?"
Snape didn't answer, his gaze fixed on the window. The tension in the compartment lingered, thick and uncomfortable, and Hermione couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness for the younger version of the man who would grow into her cold, intimidating Potions professor.
She was starting to understand why the future felt so complicated between these people.
Severus stepped out of the compartment to give Lily and Hermione privacy as they quickly changed into their school robes. The train was approaching Hogwarts fast, and the excitement in the air was palpable. Hermione pulled on her robes, her heart beating a little faster as she considered what lay ahead.
As the train came to a stop and the students began to disembark, Hermione instinctively followed the flow of older students toward the carriages, just as she had done in previous years. But before she could get too far, Hagrid's booming voice cut through the crowd.
"Hermione Prewett! Over 'ere, Hermione! You should be with the first years, yeh haven't been sorted yet!"
Hermione turned toward the familiar voice and realised, with a start, that he was right. Of course. Just because she had arrived in Gryffindor robes back in July didn't mean she didn't have to be sorted under her new name. If nothing else to keep the appearances of her cover intact. The thought sent a nervous flutter through her stomach, though she quickly tried to push it aside. Waving a quick goodbye to Lily and Snape, who had already joined the rest of the older students heading toward the carriages, she turned and made her way toward the small group of wide-eyed first years.
The first-year students were huddled together, looking nervously around at the surroundings of Hogsmeade station, clearly overwhelmed by the enormity of what lay before them. Hermione couldn't help but smile slightly as she approached the group. Were they really this small once upon a time? she mused, remembering her own first journey across the Black Lake. It felt like a lifetime ago now.
She joined the cluster of first years, but none of the younger ones had the courage to approach her. They all seemed too intimidated by the idea of sharing a boat with someone who looked so much older and more confident. Hermione didn't mind. In fact, she welcomed the quiet moment as they boarded the boats.
She ended up in a boat all to herself, watching the other students pair up in threes and fours, their nervous whispers carrying across the water. The boat glided smoothly over the surface of the Black Lake, and for the first time since arriving in this strange time, Hermione found herself feeling a brief sense of calm.
Hogwarts loomed in the distance, its towering spires casting long shadows across the lake, and the sight of it stirred a familiar warmth in her chest. No matter what time period she was in, no matter what had changed, Hogwarts was home.
As her boat floated closer to the castle, the weight of the day seemed to settle over her again. The strangeness of this new world, the unexpected realities of James, Lily, and Snape—it all felt overwhelming. But for now, in the quiet of the boat ride, she let herself just be—a student returning to Hogwarts, her place in this timeline still uncertain.
As the boats approached the shore and the first years began to scramble out, in awe and excitement, Hermione took a deep breath. She wasn't sure what the Sorting Hat would have in store for her this time, but whatever happened, she knew she would have to face it head-on.
Just as in her own time, Professor McGonagall stood at the top of the stairs of the little underground harbour, taking over the first years from Hagrid. Her stern but reassuring presence felt strangely familiar, a comforting constant despite the many differences in this timeline. Hermione watched as the group of young students gathered around, their faces filled with a mixture of awe and nervousness, while McGonagall began her traditional explanation about the four houses of Hogwarts.
"Now, while you are here, your house will be like your family," McGonagall said, her voice carrying through the hall with authority. "You will have classes with your housemates, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin."
As McGonagall finished, she turned to lead the group toward the ante-chamber just outside the Great Hall, where the Sorting Ceremony would take place. Hermione followed along quietly, her heart beginning to pound with nerves. Would the Sorting Hat put her in Gryffindor again? Or would something about her new circumstances change its decision?
Just before they entered the ante-chamber, Professor McGonagall caught Hermione's eye and stepped closer. "Miss Prewett," she said softly but firmly, "stay at the end of the line. We will sort you last."
Hermione nodded, feeling a small rush of gratitude that McGonagall had taken a moment to address her directly. Sorting her separately from the first years made sense, but it also made the whole process feel even more daunting. She lingered at the back of the group as the nervous first years filed into the waiting chamber, chattering among themselves in low voices.
At last, the doors to the Great Hall opened, and Hermione stepped inside, feeling the weight of every eye on her. The murmurs started almost immediately, whispers running through the crowd, speculating about who she was and why she was joining so late. She did her best to ignore the glances, but the scrutiny made her stomach churn.
The line of first years stretched on forever, each name called seeming to drag out longer than the last. Hermione's anxiety mounted with each student sorted, her heart pounding faster as her turn approached.
Finally, McGonagall called her name. "Prewett, Hermione."
The hall fell silent, and for a moment, Hermione felt as if time had stopped. She walked forward, her legs feeling heavier with each step, and took her place on the stool. Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on her head, and it slipped down slightly over her eyes, blocking out the gazes of the students.
Then, the familiar voice of the Sorting Hat spoke in her mind.
"Ah, interesting..." it began, its tone thoughtful. "Very interesting indeed. You're talented, that much is clear. Bright, eager to learn, and yes, studious, just like the last time I sorted you."
Hermione's pulse quickened. The last time? She hadn't expected the Hat to remember her, but it seemed the magic of time didn't fool it. Then she realised she was silly, the hat wasn't remembering her, but plucking the memory of her last sorting right from her head.
"But," the Hat continued, its voice growing deeper, "there's much more to you than just a thirst for knowledge. Oh no… you have plans. Ambitions. You seek knowledge not for its own sake, but for something greater."
Hermione's heart sank. Slytherin? The thought sent a jolt of panic through her, and she nearly squirmed in her seat. She couldn't—wouldn't—be in Slytherin.
The Hat chuckled, sensing her unease. "Not so fast. You may have ambition, but that's not where your true strength lies. Your unwavering loyalty to those you care about, your determination to do what's right—even when it's difficult—and above all, your courage. Yes, you have bravery in spades, my dear."
Hermione felt a wave of relief wash over her.
"You belong where you've always belonged," the Hat said with finality, "in Gryffindor!"
The hall erupted into applause as the Hat was lifted from her head. Hermione felt a rush of warmth and pride as she stepped off the stool, relieved that she was back in Gryffindor—where she had always felt she belonged. She quickly made her way to the Gryffindor table, joining the cheers of her new housemates, her heart still pounding but filled with a sense of belonging.
She was greeted by Lily, who was beaming with excitement. Lily quickly scooted over, making room for her to sit down. "I'm so glad you're in Gryffindor!" she said brightly, her eyes shining.
She immediately began introducing Hermione to the girls sitting nearby. "This is Marlene McKinnon," Lily said, gesturing to a confident-looking girl with dark hair who greeted Hermione with a friendly smile. "And this is Mary McDonald," Lily continued, pointing to a kind-eyed blond girl with a gentle expression, who waved warmly.
"And this," she said, nodding to another blond girl with a determined look and a familiar round face, "is Alice Fawley."
Hermione's breath caught for a moment. The resemblance was unmistakable—she looked just like a female version of Neville. Hermione guessed that Alice would one day become Alice Longbottom, Neville's mother.
As she settled into her seat, she couldn't help but notice who wasn't at the table. She looked around, scanning the room, but Remus Lupin was nowhere to be seen. The full moon, she realised with a start. He must have gone straight to wherever he did his transformations from the train.
Nearby, James and Sirius were chatting, their boisterous laughter carrying over the rest of the noise in the hall. Lily reluctantly nodded in their direction. "And, well… you've already met James Potter and Sirius Black," she said, her tone lacking any enthusiasm. Hermione could sense the tension in Lily's voice but remained polite, offering them a small nod.
"Hi again," James said, giving Hermione a friendly wave. He seemed genuinely pleased to see her, as if he'd already forgotten their unpleasant encounter on the train. Sirius flashed her a grin, clearly amused by the whole situation.
Lily continued, introducing a round-faced blond boy sitting beside them. "And this is Peter Pettigrew."
Peter gave Hermione a nervous smile, his eyes darting away quickly, as if unsure what to make of her. Hermione offered a polite greeting in return, feeling pity for the boy who would one day be blown up by Sirius Black, along with twelve Muggles.
"And then there's Remus Lupin," Lily said, frowning slightly as she glanced around the table. "I'm not sure where he is. He must have come in with you, right?"
James overheard and interjected, his tone casual. "Oh, Remus was feeling sick. Madam Pomfrey took him to the Hospital Wing as soon as we arrived."
Lily looked concerned. "Poor Remus. I hope he's alright."
Hermione's heart sank a little at the obvious cover story, but she knew she couldn't say anything. She offered a sympathetic smile instead. "I'm sorry to hear that. I hope he feels better soon."
James shrugged, though he looked slightly uneasy. "He'll be fine. He's always getting over something or other."
Sirius gave a nonchalant wave. "Yeah, nothing keeps Remus down for long. He'll be back before you know it."
Hermione nodded, though inwardly she felt a rush of sadness. Nothing keeps Remus down, except for the full moon. She pushed the thought away and tried to focus on the introductions, determined to blend in and make a good start.
Lily, noticing Hermione's slight distraction, gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, you'll meet Remus soon. He's one of the nicest people in our year."
Hermione returned the smile, feeling a little more at ease. The warmth and friendliness of Lily and her friends made her feel welcome, and despite the strange and complicated emotions swirling inside her, she was grateful to be here, surrounded by these people who would become legends in her own time.
As the feast ended and Dumbledore's closing words echoed through the Great Hall, the students began to rise and head toward their respective common rooms. Hermione was about to follow the Gryffindors when Professor McGonagall approached her, her expression serious but not unkind.
"Miss Prewett," McGonagall said, her tone brisk. "A word in my office, if you please."
Hermione nodded, feeling a flutter of anxiety. She stepped aside as the rest of the Gryffindors moved past her, curious glances cast her way.
"Uh-oh, in trouble already, Prewett?" James called out, a playful grin spreading across his face. "What did you do, dump one of the first years into the lake?"
Sirius snorted, catching on to James's joke. "Maybe she's getting detention before classes even start," he teased, his eyes gleaming with mischief.
Hermione opened her mouth to respond, feeling a bit irritated, but Lily beat her to it. "Oh, grow up, Potter," she snapped, shooting them both a withering glare. "She is new, obviously she has things to discuss with her head of house, with starting her formal education late and all that."
James's grin faltered for a second, but he quickly shrugged it off, giving Hermione an exaggerated wink before turning to follow the rest of the group. Sirius rolled his eyes, clearly unbothered by Lily's reprimand, and trailed after James with a careless laugh.
"Good luck, Hermione," Lily said, her tone softening as she glanced back at her. "I'll save you a seat in the common room."
Hermione managed a grateful smile. "Thanks, Lily."
Once the other students had gone, McGonagall gestured for Hermione to follow her, leading her out of the Great Hall and down one of the quieter corridors. Hermione's heart pounded as she wondered what McGonagall needed to discuss, feeling the weight of being a newcomer in this strange time pressing down on her.
Hermione followed Professor McGonagall down the winding corridors until they reached her office. The room was neat and orderly, with a desk covered in parchment and books stacked precisely on shelves. Hermione took a seat in front of McGonagall's desk, her nerves settling a little as the familiarity of the space washed over her.
"Miss Prewett," McGonagall began, sitting down and folding her hands neatly in front of her, "I understand that you were homeschooled before joining us. To ensure that you are at the appropriate level for your classes, I'm arranging for some of our top students to meet with you for a quick assessment in each subject."
Hermione nodded, listening intently as McGonagall continued.
"For Charms, you'll meet with Lily Evans from Gryffindor," McGonagall said, checking off a list in front of her. "For Transfiguration, you'll meet with James Potter, also from Gryffindor. Remus Lupin will handle Defence Against the Dark Arts and Ancient Runes, as he has shown a particular aptitude in both. He is also in your House. For Potions, you will meet with Severus Snape from Slytherin. Alice Fawley, another Gryffindor, will help you with Herbology. Edward MacMillan from Hufflepuff will cover History of Magic, and Sanji Patil from Ravenclaw will go over Astronomy and Arithmancy."
Hermione felt a mix of relief and anticipation at the names. Some of them she knew, and others she had a feeling she knew the descendants of. Meeting each of them under such circumstances would be a challenge, but she was confident she could handle it.
"Thank you for arranging this, Professor," Hermione said sincerely. "But I don't think there will be any problem. I'd be happy to take any tests the teachers have to confirm my knowledge."
McGonagall's stern gaze softened slightly. "I appreciate your confidence, Miss Prewett. We will see how you perform with the study sessions first, and if necessary, I'll speak with your professors about testing."
Hermione realised that by having the students assess her instead of the teachers, they were subtly offering her a chance to build friendships and avoid being entirely isolated in the midst of her peers' already well-established relationships.
"Of course," Hermione said, then hesitated, gathering her courage before asking, "Professor, I was wondering if it would be possible to sit the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams for Muggle Studies without taking the class."
McGonagall's eyebrows shot up, and she regarded Hermione with surprise. "That's certainly... ambitious, Miss Prewett. Especially with your background. Are you quite sure?"
Hermione forced herself to stay composed, inwardly assuming that Dumbledore hadn't shared her true origins with McGonagall, thinking her a pureblood. "Yes, Professor. I've been doing self-study for years, and I feel quite confident in my understanding of the Muggle world. Taking four electives officially seemed like it would be too much, especially with a new school schedule to adjust to."
McGonagall studied her for a moment, considering. "That's true, there's no feasible way to manage four electives without conflicts. I could look into acquiring a Time-Turner for you if you feel—"
"No!" Hermione said, perhaps a little too forcefully. She did not want a repeat of her last year, or even hazard another accident like the one that had sent her here. She winced and quickly softened her tone. "I mean, thank you, Professor, but I'd really rather not use a Time-Turner. Self-study will be enough, and I'd be comfortable taking the Muggle Studies O.W.L. next year without attending the class."
McGonagall gave her a long, considering look, as if trying to read between the lines. Hermione held her gaze, keeping her expression steady. Finally, McGonagall nodded. "Very well. You may sign up for the Muggle Studies O.W.L. next year if you are certain. I'll make a note of it."
"Thank you," Hermione said, relieved.
McGonagall glanced down at the parchment in front of her, then looked back at Hermione with curiosity. "I notice you haven't expressed any interest in Divination. Most students at least consider it."
Hermione couldn't hold back a scoff, and McGonagall's lips twitched in what could have been an almost-smile. "No, Professor. Divination is... not for me."
"Very well," McGonagall said, her tone faintly amused. "I shall not press the matter. You are free to make your own choices, after all." There was a hint of approval in her eyes, as if she respected Hermione's practical sensibilities.
"Another matter to discuss," McGonagall continued, her expression turning more serious. "Do you have your permission slip for Hogsmeade weekends from your guardian? I understand your cousin, Molly Weasley, has taken you in."
"Yes, I do," Hermione replied, fishing the neatly folded slip of parchment from her pocket.
McGonagall accepted the note and gave it a quick, approving glance before tucking it away. "Good. You should know that Hogsmeade weekends are a privilege, not a right, and I expect you to uphold the standards of Gryffindor House while you're there."
"Of course, Professor," Hermione said, trying to keep her expression serious.
"Now," McGonagall said, her tone softening just a fraction, "I suggest you get some rest. Tomorrow will be your first full day of classes, and I expect you'll want to make a good impression."
"Yes, Professor," Hermione said, standing up and gathering her things.
"Good night, Miss Prewett," McGonagall said, her voice softer now.
"Good night, Professor," Hermione replied, heading back toward the door. She felt a weight lift off her shoulders as she stepped out of McGonagall's office, ready to face whatever challenges her new school life would bring.
To Hermione's surprise, it wasn't Lily waiting for her outside the office but James Potter. He was leaning casually against the wall, hands in his pockets, looking as if he had nothing better to do. The sight of him caught her off guard, and for a moment, she hesitated.
"Alright there, Prewett?" he asked, straightening up with an easy smile. "Get into much trouble?"
"No trouble," Hermione replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "Professor McGonagall just wanted to make sure I was truly at the right level for fourth-year classes, so apparently I'll be seeing you next week for Transfiguration."
James raised an eyebrow, surprised. "I haven't heard anything about that yet."
"I'm sure she was planning on telling you tomorrow," Hermione said with a shrug.
"Yeah, probably," he agreed, shrugging it off without concern.
Hermione studied him, trying to figure him out. He was behaving like a completely normal, polite person—so different from the arrogant boy she'd seen taunting Snape earlier in the day on the train. It didn't add up. Maybe it was Sirius's influence, or perhaps it was something about his obsession with impressing Lily that made him act like a complete tosser sometimes. Whatever the reason, Hermione hoped he would grow out of it.
She had to believe he would grow out of it. It was the only way she could make sense of how James and Lily ended up together.
James noticed her staring, and his eyebrows furrowed in amusement. "What? Is there something on my face?"
"No... it's just," Hermione hesitated, searching for the right words, "I feel like sometimes I'm looking at two different people in you, depending on the situation."
James let out a laugh at the comment, though Hermione noticed a flicker of something defensive in his eyes. "I'm always me," he said, but there was a hint of that cocky attitude she had seen before—the kind that felt like a shield.
"I didn't say you weren't," Hermione said calmly. "But sometimes other people bring out the best… and others the worst in us."
James looked at her thoughtfully, his smile fading slightly as he considered her words. For a brief moment, the arrogance seemed to melt away, leaving behind a flicker of curiosity and confusion. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and he shrugged it off with a grin.
"Maybe," he said lightly, brushing off her observation. "But I'm still me, no matter what."
Hermione didn't argue. She knew it wasn't the time or place to get into a debate, especially since she was still trying to understand him herself. Instead, she gave him a small smile. "Good night, James. Thanks for waiting."
"No problem," he replied, his tone easy. "And the password's 'Pixie Dust,' by the way. Don't forget it."
"Got it," Hermione said, feeling a mix of relief and lingering confusion. She turned to head up the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was so much more to James Potter than what he showed on the surface.
As she walked away, she heard him call out one last time, "See you next week, Prewett!"