Chapter 3
Hermione
As the group of Eighth years gathered in the Great Hall, Hermione looked around anxiously. She hadn’t realized until they’d all been seated and she saw the Sorting Hat that the pen-pals were being assigned by him– er, it ? She supposed it made sense and was actually rather clever to have the Hat decide who would be best matched based on personality traits. When it was her turn, she walked up to the front, perching somewhat nervously on the stool and allowing the Hat to be placed on her head. It felt surreal to be sitting here again with the Sorting Hat on, almost as if she were the nervous, awkward, bushy-haired eleven-year-old Hermione again.
“Hmm… interesting… yes, hmm…,” she heard the Hat muttering to itself. “That’s settled then,” it said, and Hermione looked up to see McGonagall’s mouth quirk into a brief smile as Hermione’s name appeared on the parchment in front of the Headmistress, presumably next to her newly assigned pen-pal. So McGonagall thinks it’s a good match? Or maybe it’s not, and she was amused? She pondered to herself as she rejoined Harry and Ron at the Gryffindor table. With a dawning horror, she wondered if it was Malfoy. That could explain the smirk of amusement on McGonagall’s face– how ironic would that pairing be? Did they have anything in common? Anything the Hat may have thought merited matching them up? Surely not , she thought as she visibly shuddered at the thought of having things in common with Draco Malfoy. There were plenty of other choices, she reminded herself. Plenty of potential for friendships. Although she’d scoffed at Parvati and Fay’s silly list and their obnoxious questions, she couldn’t pretend to hate the idea of the whole pen-pal thing leading to something, well, romantic.
It’s not that Hermione had never experienced romance. Viktor had been quite taken by her, in fact, she had felt a bit overwhelmed with how much he’d seemed to like her. He complimented her often, behaved like a perfect gentleman, and wanted to spend as much time with her as he possibly could. It was nice, but she didn’t really feel a strong connection between the two of them. At first, she really believed there was something between her and Ron. Perhaps there had been, at least for a time. The first time they kissed, standing in the Chamber of Secrets, she’d gotten butterflies and felt her body buzz with something . The second time, however, they both pulled away looking at each other with discomfort, eventually laughing when they realized neither of them had any desire to do anything remotely physical with each other again.
Then there had been the Muggle boy next door, Cameron. The summer before Sixth year, he had come round her parents’ house a few times asking her if she’d like to go out with him. She’d politely declined the first time, but her mother had urged her to “go out and have fun” while she was “still young.” As it turned out, she actually had enjoyed herself, aside from having to invent an entirely different life for herself in order to be able to answer his questions about where she went to school, what her hobbies were, et cetera. They’d spent a few weeks enjoying each other’s company, snogging a bit, and he’d even managed convince Hermione to tap into her wild side and sneak out to drink with him and his friends. It had been fun, but it was certainly not the romance she’d dreamed of since she was a little girl. None of them were. Hermione secretly feared that most boys ( men? ) her age were simply too immature, too unambitious, too… hormonal for her standards. Not that her standards were incredibly high– she just wanted someone who cared about the same things that she did, was capable of holding an intelligent conversation, and who had decent enough manners. She also wouldn’t necessarily mind someone who did things like buy her flowers, write her love notes, things of that nature. Hermione had become fairly convinced that didn’t really exist, at least judging by the boys her age that she’d interacted with.
When she got back to her room that evening, she found a small black notebook sitting on her bed with her name written on the front in gold lettering. Opening it, she found the very first prompt and immediately sat down at her desk to respond, ready to begin her journey to cultivate a friendship that otherwise may never have blossomed . She snorted as she began to write.
What is your favourite holiday and why?
Hello, Pen-Pal!
At the risk of being a cliché, I would have to say my favourite holiday is Christmas. I know, I know. Me and the rest of the world. But I digress. Ever since I was a child, I’ve loved Christmas– building gingerbread houses, baking cookies, decorating the tree, you get the idea. But after I entered the wizarding world–
She paused, unsure if she should reveal her Muggle background or not. Was that considered sharing her identity? Would she be reprimanded somehow? After a moment of consideration, she decided she should lay all (well, one) of her cards on the table immediately. If this person had a problem with her being Muggle-born, maybe she could ask McGonagall for a different pen-pal. After all, it didn’t seem right to ask her to cultivate a friendship with someone who had an issue with her very existence. She continued writing.
– I fell even more in love with the holiday. The Christmas feast at Hogwarts, for example, was simply the most exciting thing in the world to 11-year old me. It still is, honestly. The first time I experienced a snowfall in the Great Hall, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but you get the idea. Honestly though, my favourite part of Christmas is giving gifts. I have lots of fun picking gifts out for my loved ones– there’s so much joy in the process of searching or making something that I know that person will find useful or really enjoy. But the best part is getting to watch them open it! Some of my best childhood memories happened during Christmas Time, so it will always be particularly dear to my heart. Anyways, I hope I haven’t rambled on too much. And reading this back, I realize I sound like an unbearably cheerful person. I promise I’m not always so peppy.
-Your Pen Pal
Hermione closed her notebook and pulled out her Ancient Runes textbook, determined to make some headway in her research for the essay that hadn’t been assigned yet but she had seen upcoming on the syllabus. She’d barely been reading for ten minutes before her notebook began to glow a faint golden, indicating there was a response waiting. Excitedly, she began reading her pen-pal’s response, noting their near-perfect handwriting with a twinge of annoyance.
Hello, Pen Pal
It’s nice to meet– er, write? you. For the record, I don’t think loving Christmas is a cliché, it’s one of the world’s most popular holidays for a reason. I can imagine why you’d find Christmas in the wizarding world so exciting– it is pretty, well, magical (for lack of a better term). It sounds like you are a wonderful gift giver, and I’m sure your friends and family appreciate you and your gifts very much. I hope the gifts you get in return are just as thoughtful. In your opinion, what was the best gift you ever gave someone? The best gift you’ve ever received from someone?
I think it’d be a tie for me between Christmas and Halloween– mainly because I also enjoy the Hogwarts traditions associated with both.
What’s your favourite Christmas memory from your childhood? I’d love to hear about it if you’re willing to share.
-Your Pen Pal
P.S. You weren’t rambling on at all. And I like peppy.
Hermione was thrilled that her pen pal seemed just as enthusiastic about chatting as she did. She had worried that she would scare them away, imagining that most people had probably written a few sentences at most. She always held onto that lingering insecurity, one that she’d had since she was a child– the fear that she was too much for people– too loud, too swotty, too friendly, too excitable, too much hair, the list went on and on. Her pen pal’s response, however, had been just as eager, and they’d even managed to slip a few compliments in there. She felt her cheeks heat as she reread their entry. Her pen pal had actually been quite complimentary. Hermione found herself almost hoping they were a boy, for some strange reason. Pulling out her quill, she began responding almost immediately. After all, they’d said they didn’t mind her rambling, after all. Hopefully they didn’t mind her being a bit over eager as well.
Hello again!
I’m glad you don’t seem to mind my lengthy response. I was worried I’d be stuck with someone who gave me one-word answers. Clearly it’s my lucky day!
You seem very kind, pen pal. I like to believe my gifts are appreciated, as well. Hmm… let’s see. The best gift I ever gave someone was probably something I made for my best friend a few years ago. He doesn’t have any real family of his own and has had a lot of pretty miserable Christmases, so I try to help make it as special as I can for him. It took a lot of digging, but I was able to find a Quidditch playbook that my friend’s father had created. It was only a few pages, but since he lost his dad at a young age, I knew he would appreciate anything that might make him feel closer to him. He was quite touched by it, and he still keeps it close by to this day.
As far as my favourite gift I’ve ever received, I’m a bit boring. I’ve pretty much always received books as gifts since I was small. I do really appreciate when people find books they know I’ll appreciate– I really couldn’t ask for more!
I’m just now realizing you’ve told me very little about yourself, but you’ve asked many questions. So, now it’s your turn to ramble and my turn to ask questions! What do you like about Halloween? Do you have a favourite childhood memory from Halloween? Or Christmas!
-Your Pen Pal
Hermione quickly realized her pen pal seemed to have their notebook open at the moment, because she could see them writing back in real-time. She had worried that she’s revealed too much about herself when she shared the story about Harry, considering everyone in the wizarding world knew his parents had died when he was young and that he played Quidditch, but decided she didn’t particularly want to worry about small details like that revealing her identity. She thought it might ruin the fun of the whole thing. Hermione also realized, as she sat transfixed in front of her journal, that this whole pen pal thing might become a problem– she had barely gotten any work done because she was so engaged in their back-and-forth. She read their response eagerly.
Hi again– do you think we need to keep greeting each other or do we just jump into conversation? I’m still learning the etiquette of the pen pal world, you see.
I suppose it’s my lucky day too– I was worried about the exact same thing. Imagine my pleasant surprise when I discovered my pen pal was, in fact, a fantastic conversationalist. Wow, that’s an incredibly special gift you gave your friend. I can’t even imagine what something like that would mean to me if I were to receive it. You sound like a very good friend. By the way, pen pal, loving books does not make you boring. In fact, in my book (ha), it makes you significantly more interesting. If you had to pick three books to bring to a desert island, which would you choose? This is a question I sometimes ask myself, just for fun.
As for learning more about me, I’m afraid I’m rather boring, too. I find it much more intriguing to learn about other people, and I am finding it particularly intriguing learning more about you. I hope you don’t mind the questions. I never really did much to celebrate Halloween as a child, and my Christmas memories are also rather generic. Decorating the tree, exchanging presents, all that business. I wonder if there’s a limit on how much we can write back and forth? I hope not.
-Your pen pal
P.S. Should we call each other something besides “pen pal?”
Hermione was writing back before she could stop herself. She had certainly not expected to be getting nervous butterflies and laughing to herself whilst writing to her assigned pen pal, but here she was.
Hi yourself. I suppose we don’t need to do the whole greeting thing– I believe it’s frowned upon in some circles of the pen pal world, but why not throw caution to the wind?
The feeling is mutual. As in, I happen to think you are a fantastic conversationalist as well. I will admit, I was not expecting to enjoy this mandatory activity as much as I am. Especially now that you’ve said loving books makes someone more interesting– in that case, you’ll find me absolutely fascinating. That’s a wonderful question about the desert island, albeit nearly impossible to answer! There are so many books I’d hate to part with, but if I had to choose only three to read for (presumably) the rest of my life whilst stuck on this hypothetical island, they would be:
- "One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi" by Phyllida Spore (for practical reasons, I have to survive somehow, right?)
- This one’s a bit embarrassing but… “Hogwarts: A History." (I know, I know, but it was the first magical book I ever read, and it has a very special place in my heart).
- Whatever Muggle book I’m reading at the time, probably something Fiction.
I’d love to hear yours as well! Hm, pen pal, you seem to keep things rather close to the chest. I can almost guarantee I will not find details of your life boring. Are you a bit of a private person? I apologize if that’s overstepping, but I had to ask. As for nicknames, since we have to maintain our anonymity and you’ve given me very little to work with on my secret quest to figure out who you are (kidding– or am I??), I think I should call you Mystery. Hope that’s okay with you– I’m fine with whatever you’d like to call me, as long as it’s not insulting (I don’t know why I felt the need to say that– you haven’t insulted me in the least bit thus far).
As much as I’ve enjoyed talking to you, I really must get some studying done and then attempt to get some sleep. I’ll look forward to tomorrow’s prompt, Mystery!
--------------------
Before she went to bed, Hermione couldn’t stop herself from picking up the notebook that had been glowing on her desk for the last few hours. She’d restrained herself in order to focus on studying, but she had to know what Mystery had to say.
I hope you’re not still reading this and that you’ve already started studying– hopefully I’m not disturbing you, is what I’m trying to say. I just wanted to tell you that I’m really enjoying writing to you as well, and I love your choice of books. My picks are fairly similar, believe it or not. I think I’ll call you Wildcard, since you seem to be full of surprises.
Also, I’m sorry that I haven’t volunteered much about myself. To be perfectly honest with you, you were correct in that I am a very private person and I’m not used to sharing things with other people. I promise I’ll try to be more forthcoming, and I hope you won’t hold it against me that it can be a bit difficult for me. I’m afraid I’ll regret being so vulnerable, but under the guise of anonymity, I’ll give it a go. I think part of the reason I tend to keep things to myself is because I’m afraid people like you wouldn’t want to know me if they learned more. I’ve never really been able to talk to anyone like this before, and I realize that’s a bit of a red flag. I hope I don’t scare you off. Shite. Maybe I should’ve just stuck with “happy studying, talk to you tomorrow!” Sorry. Goodnight, Wildcard.
-Mystery (I feel quite silly referring to myself as that, but who am I to question you?)
When she read their response, her heart sank a bit. It’s not that she was disappointed, but she felt herself wishing she could reassure her pen pal, let them know that she was sure they were worth getting to know. She wondered what they meant by “people like you” not wanting to know them once they learned more. Hermione got the sense that perhaps this person had not had a particularly happy childhood, and the thought made her chest feel a bit tight.
She thought for some reason of Harry when he was small, living in that cupboard under the stairs, watching his cousin be showered with love and gifts while he was treated so poorly. It always made Hermione cry to picture him like that, made her wish she could go back in time and comfort him, tell him that one day he would be surrounded by people who loved and cherished him. She attempted to push the image of tiny, lonely Harry from her mind, but once the dark thoughts began creeping into her mind, she found it difficult to stop them. As the painful memories came surging forward, Hermione recognized the all-too-familiar sensation of a panic attack. Her vision went dark, and her throat began to close. She forgot Forcing herself to inhale as she gripped the headboard of her bed, Hermione said the words aloud to ground herself– “My name is Hermione Granger. I am safe. I am at Hogwarts. My friends are safe. I can breathe. ” Eventually, finally free of the grips of her panic attack, Hermione laid down.
Searching for a memory to make her happy, to bring some warmth back to her body, she thought of her exchange with her pen pal a few hours ago and found herself smiling. Hermione was shocked to feel a genuine connection to someone she’d only interacted with on paper, and they seemed a bit… complicated, but there was something about them that drew her in. Yes, she thought, there was definitely a darkness to her friend Mystery. But then again, she realized, there was a darkness to herself as well. Before she could stop and think it through, she grabbed her notebook and scribbled a quick response before turning off the lights with a flick of her wand and falling asleep at last.