Chapter 37
Hermione
Hermione choose a carriage with the twins and Lee for the ride from Hogsmeade station to Hogwarts, leaving Harry, Ron, Neville and Luna to another. They played cards and traded jokes, until Hermione tired of the game and curled against George’s side to read as he sketched in his journal for the remainder of the journey. At the station, Harry had had a bit of a panic over the Thestrals, and the Ravenclaw girl, Luna, attempted to comfort him in her flighty way. It backfired, Harry convinced he was hallucinating and needed the hospital wing; until Lee and the twins explained what the creatures were. Hermione found the beasts fascinating, a creature she had only read about briefly and could not see herself. Fred had led her to the front of the carriage and helped her gently stroke the velvety flank of one of the beasts, and the contrast, feeling it warm and alive beneath her fingers but invisible to the eye left her head spinning. Fred explained he and George could see them because they had been present when their grandfather Septimus had died when they were five. Lee had a similar experience, having lost his grandmother right before he started school at 11. She found herself wishing she could see the creatures, but at the same time glad she couldn’t; witnessing a death seemed a heavy price to pay to view them. What a peculiar trait. What is the connection between death and thestrals? She felt the familiar urge to rush to the library and solve the mystery, learn everything she could about them, and pushed it down. I have quite enough mysteries at the moment. She told herself firmly.
Walking into the great hall created a storm inside her, happiness and anxiety fighting for dominance. The familiar, vast room, alive with chatter and laughter, the four long tables brimming with the food of the welcome feast, the thousands of candles flickering overhead was like coming home, but the fear of what this feast would bring was strong. As her eyes passed over the head table, facing the line of teachers her eyes caught on Albus Dumbledore, sitting solemnly in the middle, gazing at the incoming children with serious eyes, a jolt of panic swept through her. Will he really do it? She looked to his side, Professor McGonagall sitting at his right looking as stern as ever, her expression unreadable.
Hermione smoothed down her robes, the familiar scarlet a small comfort against the tremor in her hands. I’m still a Gryffindor. She thought firmly, walking to her table with sure strides and taking a seat, Fred and George sitting on either side of her. Ron and Harry, already tucking in to the food, sat across from them. Dumbledore’s threat to have her re-sorted still echoed in her ears, leaving her stomach twisting. She kept her hands in her lap, unable to make herself reach for the food. Her mind went back to her first sorting, sitting in on the tiny stool with every eye in the hall on her as the minutes ticked by. Whispers had started, low at first, then filling the hall like angry hornets. “A hat stall…she’s a hat stall…never seen one take this long….” The hat in question, having a heated debate mostly with itself on which house she’d be best suited for. It seemed to discount Hufflepuff fairly quickly, but couldn’t decide whether Ravenclaw, Gryffindor or Slytherin was right for her. “Brave…yes, there’s a brave heart, strong sense of justice. Thirst for knowledge, want to know all there is to know, don’t you? Too brave, too loyal for Ravenclaw…you don’t want to be alone… But cunning, yes…very cunning. A leader, full of ideas, like to be in charge don’t you…stubborn…Ambitious, you want to be the best at everything, you want to change the world…yes…Slytherin, Gryffindors are too foolhardy for you… “No please.” She’d thought fiercely to the hat. “Please, I’m a muggle born…I can’t, I just want…friends.” Blood purity is nonsense…Loyal, confidant, brave…but Slytherin is where you’d shine… “NO! I won’t!” Her eyes burned with tears, locked on the Slytherin table, where a hundred pairs of hostile eyes locked onto her. She’d be the only muggle-born ever placed in the house, they’d hate her… The hat sighed, a long, drawn out exclamation of it’d exasperation in her. Stubborn as a “GRYFFINDOR!” It finished aloud, and she’d beamed, so relieved to be running across the hall in scarlet robes, away from the sea of green and silver hatred.
Professor McGonagall, her face etched with a mixture of concern and steely determination, brought her out of her thoughts with a gentle touch on her shoulder.
“Miss Black,” the Professor said, her voice firm yet gentle. “I wanted to say…I’m sorry I was unable to get your badge back. You earned it, by right.” She pursed her lips and drew her hand back. “I put a stop to…the other suggestion. You will remain a Gryffindor. We’ll talk more tomorrow.” She nodded once, and continued down the hall to the waiting first years to start the ceremony. Hermione sagged with relief.
“I knew Minnie would pull through!” Fred said excitedly.
“Here.” George slid a plate filled with food in front of her. She smiled at him and picked at it with her fork, still too tense to eat. This was too easy. She felt as though she were still on the knife’s edge, waiting for the inevitable blow. She found herself staring at Dumbledore, and started when he met her eyes across the room. He smiled at her, and it sent a chill down her spine. He’s definitely planning something. She thought, fighting down a sudden panic that threatened to close her throat.
“Hey, where’s Hagrid?” Harry asked the table. “Did anyone see him when we got off the train?”
“Hagrid’s hard to miss, mate.” George said.
“It was Grubby-Plank with the firsties.” Fred added.
“Maybe he’s sick?” Ron said, peering at the staff table.
The debate for where Hagrid could be tapered off quickly, as they realized the potential for him being out on Order business was high, and they couldn’t very well discuss it in the Great Hall.
The feast finished with a distinct lack of celebration. After the woman, Dolores Umbridge, interrupted Dumbledore’s speech and made her own about the Ministry taking over Defense Against the Dark Arts and alluding to schoolwide changes, everyone was either disheartened or confused. Fred, George and even Harry and Ron tried more than once to start a conversation as Hermione picked at her food and dwelled on the looming worries.
Dumbledore finally rose, crossing to the podium and calling for silence. For a moment, the knot in Hermione’s belly loosened, sure he would bid them goodnight and this awful night would be over. Then, he spoke.
“Welcome, and welcome back to all our students. Before I send you off to your houses and beds, we have one more matter to attend to. We have a nearly unprecedented event here tonight; two of our students have been adopted into a Nobel and ancient Wizard family.” He paused, his gaze traveling to Hermione as he smiled. Hermione met his stare with pure venom, hoping for once he could hear her thoughts. You vile old bastard, She hissed internally.
“Now, when this happens, as has only happened twice before in Hogwarts history, our school rules set by the founders state the adopted children must go through the sorting ceremony again, to ensure their magical alignments matched their new familial standing.” He paused, allowing the news to sweep through the hall. Hermione’s stomach dropped. So; McGonagall had convinced him not to publicly punish her with a resorting, but he’d found a way to get the hat on her anyway. The familiar buzzing rose to a near roar as He waited, then raised his hands again.
“Harry and Hermione Black, please come up here.” He said calmly.
Harry and Hermione exchanged a look filled with nervous trepidation. She felt every eye in the hall on them as she rose with shaking legs. She felt Fred and George each brush a hand against her, a silent comfort. Harry seemed frozen, and still sat silent.
“C’mon, Harry.” She heard herself say, reaching her hand out. Still, he didn’t move, instead shaking his head slowly, as if in disbelief.
“Go on, mate.” Ron shoved his shoulder, waking Harry at least partially from his stupor and he finally stood, stumbling after Hermione. Heads turned unabashedly as they passed, though now, no one spoke. Instead, the great hall was utterly silent, making their footsteps uncomfortably loud.
“Come, come.” Dumbledore said jovially. “This is hardly a punishment.” He smiled at them, and Hermione was sure it was meant to look like a kind smile, but a chill went down her spine. His eyes were cold, his smile predatory.
“Minerva, the stool, if you please.”
Professor McGonagall stomped around the head table with the stood, breathing heavily through her nose and slammed the stool down before stepping to the side with her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She gave Hermione the impression of a dragon, and Hermione had to fight a nervous laugh at the idea of her transfiguration professor breathing fire all over the headmaster.
“Mr. Potter- excuse me, Harry, Black, if you please.” He gestured to the stool. Harry walked forward on shaky legs like a newborn fawn, and sat heavily on the undersized stool. Professor McGonagall stepped up and held the hat over his head, glancing at Dumbledore before dropping it on his head.
The hat twisted curiously, then shouted,
“AS I SAID BEFORE, GRIFFINDOR!” with hardly a pause. The hall exploded in applause, none louder than the Gryffindor table. Harry’s entire body relaxed and he grinned, handing her back the hat and jogging back to his seat, where he was met with slaps on the back and high fives.
Hermione smiled, her own worry lessened a fraction simply knowing Harry would not lose something that mattered so much to him. Hogwarts, to Harry was more home than anything he’d ever known. Being uprooted from his friends, his dorm mates, from his Quidditch team, would be a devastating blow…she wasn’t sure he could handle it, especially while he still grappled with the guilt of Cedric’s death. For herself; she didn’t want to be separated from her friends or boyfriends, but people in separate houses dated and spent time together…it wasn’t the end of the world. It would be a blow, but she could weather it. That is, unless it was Slytherin. Where the hat originally wanted her despite her blood status. In that house, she couldn’t say she would survive, quite literally. She couldn’t imagine life at Hogwarts without a sanctuary from the peers that routinely spit on her, hexed her in the halls, mocked her relentlessly. The thought of them having access to her as she slept…no. If the hat called out Slytherin, I’m was leaving Hogwarts. She thought frantically. No, but who would look after Harry? He’ll defiantly get himself killed if Ron is his voice of reason.
She followed Harry’s path to the stool robotically. When she sat, McGonagall curled her fingers around her shoulder and squeezed once. It felt like a comfort and an apology, as she dropped the hat onto her head.
You again. The hat’s voice crooned inside her head. Still quite the puzzle aren’t you? Most becoming clearer with age, you…Brave, no question…Brilliant, learning is a joy, knowledge a gift, quite Ravenclaw. Hard working and kind like Huffepuff…not one to act first and think later… You are a plotter, a planner, a leader. Brave, yes…but cautious…ambitious…loyal…no, Gryffindor isn’t quite right…I still think Slytherin is the place for you… “Please, understand they hate me. Their parents- they…please, please, I can’t go there…please.” Embrace your nature…Slytherin is just a house, not all bad, not all good. Gryffindor is the same…not all grow to be righteous…yes, Slytherin is for you. “No, hat!” The hat sighed, deep and resigned, then said, ‘ When will you children learn a each house is inside Hogwarts, don’t let prejudice guide you…I guess it must be…’
“Gryffindor!” The hat boomed. Hermione opened her eyes to her stunned classmates. How long had the hat stalled this time? The clapping began slowly, with Gryffindor table taking the lead, then rippled across the hall, more subdued than for Harry (of course, she wasn’t as well-liked or well known as her Quidditch star Chosen one best friend), but for Fred and George, who whooped and carried on as if they were in the stands at the World Cup. Hermione handed the hat back to McGonagall, who gave her a watery smile and glanced at Dumbledor who stared back as if trying to work out a puzzle. His voice was measured as he told her to take her seat, and turned back to his podium to dismiss the feast. Hermione walked back to her table, where she was immediately pulled into a fierce hug by Fred, while George swooped in and hugged her from the back.
“You hat stalled again.” George whispered.
“Later.” Hermione mumbled back.
“True Griffindors, twice chosen!” Fred shouted, holding one of Hermione’s arms above her head and inciting the table in a cheer, making her blush fiercely.
The walk back to Gryffindor tower was mostly a blur for Hermione, who couldn’t focus on anyone’s questions or gossip. Of course; all anyone wanted to talk about was the resorting ceremony, and she partially couldn’t blame them, to witness such an unusual even must have been exciting on the outside. She was still reeling from the experience and the implications. Hermione was sure Dumbledore wanted her out of Gryffindor house. The question was why. She couldn’t believe it was simply for fetching her best friend against his orders; it wasn’t as if she were the first to defy him…and he frequently rewarded Harry for such wild behavior. Which was another puzzle. Why exactly did he insist he wanted to keep Harry safe when his actions habitually put him in danger. Why did Dumbledore send them to rescue Sirius in 3rd year, injured and exhausted to face a werewolf and one hundred dementors? Why allow him to compete in the TriWizard tournament, there had to be some other way they could have handled that…surely the rules had provisions for cheating? Also, how could such a “powerful, magical relic” be fooled that easily? Why did he show him the Mirror of Erised, why reward him for going into the Chamber of Secrets himself…and why was he so determined to keep him at his aunt and uncle’s after their location had been compromised? It seemed to her there was a pattern here, but the reason alluded her. If Harry was so important, if he really was the key to defeating Voldemort, then wouldn’t there be more done for his safety? Why wasn’t he being personally trained in advanced magics?
“Hey.” George bumped her shoulder, bringing her out of her reverie.
“Detour.” Fred whispered, pulling her behind a tapestry on the second floor.
Expecting an alcove, Hermione was shocked to see a winding staircase concealed behind the unassuming tapestry.
“What’s this?” She asked, curiosity winning over her malaise.
The twins grinned in tandem.
“We want to show you something.” George said playfully.
“Something fun to end the night. Take your mind off things.” Fred added, bopping his finger on her nose.
“Are you two seriously asking me to miss curfew the first night back?” She asked incredulously.
They shared a glace.
“Of course!” They chirped together.
“It’s tradition!”
Hermione smiled and shook her head in mock disbelief. Of course they would.
“Well…alright then. But we’d better not get caught.” She conceded.
“Hermione.”
“As if we’d get caught.”
She followed them down the dark, tunnel-like staircase, threw a door disguised as a painting on the first floor. Portraits eyed them in suspicious silence as they hugged the walls close and continued down a corridor Hermione hadn’t seen before. At the end of the hall, they stopped before a large statue of a bullfrog. She looked up at the imposing statue, sitting larger than life on a gigantic lily pad.
“So there really is a frog statue.” She mused, reaching her hand out to run her fingers over the smooth marble. Before she could react, the frog lunged forward, opening it’s stone mouth and closing it around her. She was engulfed in darkness, spun around roughly and slid out, landing in a heap. She scurred out of the way as she felt rather than saw Fred and George following her, the latter of course landing smoothly on their feet.
“Shit I forgot it-”
“Dumps you on your ass the first few times!” Fred and George quickly lifted her to her feet, quite unnecessarily brushing her off as she batted at their helping hands.
She looked around, taking in the small room. It was quite a bit like the twin’s bedroom, two worktables side-by-side, one a makeshift potion bench, bottles and jars organized neatly on the wall behind it, the other a mess of wire, metal, paper scraps and tools. Drawings and notes were fixed all over the rough stone walls, and several crates were stacked in the corner.
“What’s all this?” She asked curiously, walking over to the inventions table and picking up a half-finished clock of some sort.
“Workroom 3.” George said proudly.
“In Hogwarts- we’ve had others,” Fred continued.
“But this one has lasted the longest. When we found this room we realized no one knew about it.”
“Or cared, at least. It was mostly empty.”
“But what if someone stumbles in?” Hermione asked, turning to them fully with creased brows.
Fred grinned broadly and clapped his hands together once.
“That’s the best part- Bill taught us a few tricks,”
“Wards, long-lasting notice-me-nots,”
“And no one can get in but us!”
“People won’t even remember the statue!” They laughed at their own brilliance, and flopped onto a small sofa in the back corner. It was flanked by piles of books being used as tables, topped with notes, pens, and a few scattered empty teacups.
“But- I just got in.” Hermione crossed, considering the sofa, where there was definitely not enough space to squeeze between the boys, before transfiguring a rag on the floor into a cushion and dropping down on it. Fred frowned.
“The floor? I think not.” He stood, reaching down for her hands and pulling her up before flinging himself back on the couch, Hermione landing in a sprawl draped across his chest, her legs across George. Fred wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned further into the couch, sighing contentedly and closing his eyes.
“Hey!” Hermione said indigently. “You can’t toss me around like a sack of potatoes.”
“I would never,” Fred said seriously, opening his eyes and locking them on her own. “Ever. Cuddle a bag of potatoes.”
Hermione laughed and swatted his chest. “You’re terrible!”
“You love it.” Fred waggled his eyebrows at her. After some maneuvering, they managed to find a comfortable way to pile together, Hermione wedged tightly between them, her legs curled around George as her head rested on Fred’s chest.
“Really though- how did I get in?” She asked finally.
“We keyed you into the Wards.” Fred answered.
“When? We’ve been together since the train?”
“Well…” George said slowly. “I…may have…keyed you in last year.”
“Last year?” Hermione attempted to sit up, but they both tightened their grasp.
“We told you,”
“George was going to ask you to the ball…”
“So when we set the wards, I just thought I’d plan ahead.”
“Sure of yourselves, were you?” Hermione smirked.
“Well the timeline was off but…”
“Here you are.” George rubbed her hip for emphasis.
“Does that mean at any point last year I could have walked down this Corridor and been swallowed by a frog statue with no warning?” She asked incredulously. The twins didn’t respond immediately and she knew without seeing they were talking above her head, silently.
“I…” George cleared his throat. “The probability of that was really low.” George said with awkward hesitation, while Fred shook with barley contained laughter.
Hermione laughed softly, then found she couldn’t stop giggling, the thought of how angry she would have been if a stone frog had randomly eaten her on the way to potions and she had ended up trapped here setting off her laugh again. She realized with a jolt that she had never laughed so often, or had spent so much time…happy. It wasn’t that she was generally unhappy at school, but so much of her life to date was lived in the unhappy shadow of her home life. Even at school, before and at Hogwarts, she was not well-liked.
Fred and George possessed this uncanny ability to disarm her, to make her forget the constant stress she carried, the looming threat of Voldemort, the constant pressure she had lived under and taken to heart to be the best. With them, everything simplified, and most of their time was filled with shared laughter and easy companionship. It was so easy it almost made her afraid this was a dream she would wake from, if not for the looming threats outside of their happy bubble.
As the last vestiges of her laughter subsided, a comfortable silence settled between them. Hermione rested her head on Fred’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, breathing in his gunpowder-cinnamon scent. She loved their chaos, Fred’s cheek, George’s quick wit, their brilliance and focus, their confidence and charm… but the way they made her feel completely, beautifully, undeniably seen…she felt she didn’t have words strong enough to express how it made her feel.