Chapter Three
Hermione devoured as many of her new books as possible in the days leading up to her departure for Hogwarts, particularly her textbooks, as she wanted to learn as much about her new classes as possible. Then, she got through Hogwarts, A History; Modern Magical History, and the Pureblood Directory, which told her a lot about the people she’d be attending school with—as well as telling her a lot about her own family. And through that book, as well as her father’s potions textbook, she learnt a lot indeed.
She discovered how smart Regulus was, even in his first year. How he brewed potions for fun and worked on the standard instructions to better his potions. She learnt about their family's famed ability: Metamorphagism, which allowed the person with that ability to change any part of their body (though this ability hadn’t been seen in anyone in their family up until Nymphadora Tonks, Andromeda’s daughter, had been born), their strength in the Mind Arts, and their affinity for the darker forms of magic, like blood magic, that others tended to stray away from. Unfortunately, though, she discovered that more often than not in their family, they tended to be Pureblood Supremacists—people, she learnt, who believed that all those without magic, or who were born to non-magical families, were lesser than and below Purebloods.
It was both disturbing, fascinating and intimidating to know that that was the legacy she was inheriting.
Hermione wasn’t sure if she was better or worse off for knowing it.
In those weeks, they’d managed to track down the address of Andromeda Tonks, and Hermione had laboured over a piece of parchment before eventually sending a letter off. Unfortunately, though, Narcissa Malfoy’s wasn’t publicly listed anywhere and she’d been unable to send one. Though she wondered if perhaps Mrs Tonks could assist her there.
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Dear Mrs Tonks,
You don’t know me, but my name is Hermione Jean Granger. I am about to embark on my first year at Hogwarts, and a few days ago, I discovered via Gringotts that I am the daughter of your cousin, Regulus Black.
This came as quite a shock to me, as my mother—Amina—had never discussed him with me, and didn’t know that he was (or had been? I’m not sure which tense to use for a missing-presumed-dead wizard whose not technically been declared dead) a wizard.
Griphook, the bank manager, suggested we reach out to either you or Mrs Narcissa Malfoy for more information if we should wish to. However, I was unable to find Mrs Malfoy’s address listed publicly anywhere.
I’ve never had a family—my mother hasn’t spoken to her parents in many years and was an only child. The only family I’ve ever had were close friends of my mother's, so to know that I have a real family out there has been very exciting to me. However, I am also aware that meeting me may not be something you’re interested in. Still, I thought that I should reach out to you and introduce myself, in the hopes that you might be interested in getting to know me.
If you are, I am contactable at Hogwarts, though I don’t have an owl as my mother’s fairly scared of birds. Additionally, my mother said you can reach out to either of us at the return address I’ve written on the back of this envelope, and she will forward the letter to me.
I hope that this letter finds you well.
Warm regards,
Hermione J. Granger
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Since Hermione would be at Hogwarts for her birthday, which was on the 19th of September, her Mum had decided they’d celebrate the night before she went to Hogwarts instead.
Her Mum had taken the week off of work to spend it with Hermione, and so the morning of her mock birthday, they went shopping for some new Muggle clothing for Hermione. She ended up getting two pairs of new jeans and trousers, a couple of skirts, and some tops. They also did a very generous top-up of the products and toiletries Hermione always used so that she’d have enough for the year.
When they got home in the afternoon, they dragged a mattress downstairs and set up a girl’s night. They baked a cake, giggling madly over the sounds of ABBA as they did their absolute best to decorate it—which wasn’t good at all because both girls were not creative in the slightest. They made Hermione’s favourite meals for dinner, chicken souvlaki pitas, with roast vegetables, homemade hummus, and a quinoa tabbouleh salad, and ate it while watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s, before spending the rest of the night watching their other favourite movies while packing the last of Hermione’s trunk.
They fell asleep to The Breakfast Club and when Hermione woke up in her mother’s arms before the sun had even risen, she lay there as still as possible, taking in the warmth of her mother’s arms and the smell of perfume for the last time until Christmas.
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The Hogwarts Express was a cacophony of noise when Hermione boarded, handing her trunk over to a station officer who was hauling all of their trunks into one of the storage carriages. As she headed into the carriage, she passed students greeting one another as they made their way to their seats. She glimpsed students exchanging presents from summers aboard and overheard two older girls talking about a breakup between two of their friends. Throughout the train, older students—already dressed in their robes, with Prefect badges pinned to them—were herding lingering students out of the doorways and walkways.
Hermione painstakingly made her way down the train in search of somewhere to sit. The train was set up with a mix of closed compartments, and entire open sections that were filled with tables and booths for students to chat more openly with one another, and already so many of them all were taken.
Finally, near the back of the train, Hermione found an empty compartment and she practically threw herself inside. She settled by the window and pulled off her satchel, peering out into the platform that was emptying as the train gave a warning hoot.
The train was pulling from the station and shuttling along through London when the door slid open. Lily Moon, one of the Muggleborn students from Diagon Alley, was standing in the doorway in a blue plaid dress over a white t-shirt, her hair pulled out of her face in two long French braids. “Hi! It’s Lily—we met in Diagon Alley?” she posed it more like a shy question even as she smiled.
“I know. It’s nice to see you again!” When the girl continued to stand in the doorway, unsurely, Hermione gestured to the seat across from her. “Would you like to join me? I bet it’s pretty full by now.”
Lily looked relieved as she closed the door behind her, carrying an owl cage in her hand that she stored on the overhead shelf, the brown barn owl snoozing away inside with no worries about being jostled about.
“Your owl is beautiful,” Hermione complimented, “What’s its name?”
“Persephone, but I nicknamed her Seph! I bought her in Diagon Alley.”
“I thought about getting an owl, but my Mum is scared of birds. She said I could get a cat instead if I liked, but I was worried I would be too overwhelmed getting used to Hogwarts. I might get one next summer, though.”
“I thought about getting a cat, too, because I have three at home, but I wanted to be able to communicate with my Mum and Dad. And my Mum wanted a way to be able to send me a care package—she’s pretty distraught over not being able to see me till Christmas, so this is her way of keeping up with me.” Lily blushed as if she thought Hermione would find her Mum’s care for her to be embarrassing. Hermione found it endearing. “I’m an only child. My Mum couldn’t have any more kids so they can be pretty . . . nervous and involved.”
“My Mum’s like that, too. It’s just us and she was worried about me being away from her for so long because we’ve never really been away from each other. But she has a busy job—she’s a dentist and owns her own practice—so I hope that keeps her busy enough not to get too worried.”
“Your Dad’s not around?” wondered Lily. As soon as the words left her mouth, she gasped, as if realising what she said could’ve come across as invasive to ask someone you hardly knew. “Oh, I’m so sorry . . . that was so rude and insensitive to ask. My Mum keeps telling me I speak without thinking sometimes.”
“It’s alright,” Hermione assured. She liked Lily already. Sure, she was talkative, but it was refreshing for Hermione who was usually the one keeping conversations going. Not to mention, Lily had the kind of smile that lit up a room and made you feel warm, and Hermione thought that was a brilliant quality to have as a person. “Uhm . . . he disappeared when my Mum was pregnant. I only found out in Diagon Alley that he was actually a wizard—though I don’t really know what happened to him. The goblins said he disappeared before I was born and hasn’t been seen since.”
Lily frowned sadly. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what that must be like,” she said, “I know we don’t know one another, but if you’d like to talk about it, I’m here.”
Hermione smiled gently. “Thank you. I didn’t know him, but you know . . .” shrugged Hermione, trailing off awkwardly.
Lily picked up on Hermione’s changing mood, and suggested, “Let’s change the subject—what was getting your wand like? Mine took forever.”
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Hermione had eaten her lunch earlier and then when the trolley cart had come around filled with wizarding sweets of all kinds and pushed by a woman named Prue, she and Lily had shared a mix together. They tried Chocolate Frogs—both she and Lily frowning at the enchantments that made them realistic, jumping about and attempting to escape consumption. Hermione had gotten the card of Rowena Ravenclaw, the Founder of Ravenclaw House, and Lily got Cliodna, an Irish druidess who’d first discovered the properties of Moondew. They’d also gotten Pumpkin Juice, which Hermione hadn’t enjoyed but Lily did, and an assortment of sour sweets that had their faces screwing up.
They were discussing where they thought they’d be sorted when the door slid open again. A tall, thin boy with vibrant red hair stood dressed in Gryffindor red and gold-lined robes, and he had one of the Prefect badges pinned to his robes. “Excuse me . . . have either of you seen a toad? Neville, here, has lost his.” He gestured behind him to a small, dark-haired boy who had tears brimming in his green eyes.
He clearly was distraught. She was already stressed enough with the busy day, and to add losing one's pet on the train on top of that? Hermione felt for him immediately. “No, sorry,” she said but she knew she wanted to help. “But I can help you look if you would like?”
“That would be helpful, thank you,” said the older boy. “I’ll continue heading up the left side of the train toward the Prefect carriage if you’d like to look in the other direction. My name is Percy Weasley, by the way, if you need to find me again.”
He turned and disappeared before she could say Nice to meet you or introduce herself, so Hermione shrugged and tucked her things back into her satchel, cleaning up the small mess of snacks in the small bin available in the compartment. “Would you like to come?” she directed at Lily.
Lily agreed and shot Neville a small smile. “My name’s Lily Moon,” she introduced, “And this is Hermione Granger. We’re in our first year.”
“I–I’m a first year, too,” said Neville, shuffling his feet and fiddling with the sleeve of his wizard's robes. “My name’s Neville L–Longbottom, and my toad’s name is Trevor. He runs off a–a lot. My Gran will be s–so mad if I lose him.”
“It’s alright, we’ll help you look,” Hermione reassured as they stepped into the hallway. “He couldn’t have gotten far. I’m sure the train must be overwhelming to animals, he might just be hiding from all the noise.”
“Toads and frogs like dark spaces where they can hide, so he might be somewhere you wouldn’t expect,” Lily pointed out, and when she noted their curious expressions, she added, “My Mum’s a vet and we have a lot of animals at home—including amphibians. I know a lot of random facts because of my Mum. Like did you know frogs are cannibals? Mostly only in places where there are lots of frogs and not other varieties of food. And because frogs are carnivorous when fully grown, they need meat to survive and won’t eat plants—except for tadpoles, who are omnivores and eat plants and meat. Frogs are very fascinating . . . I admittedly don’t know a lot about toads, but you chose a good pet, Neville.”
Hermione grimaced, not finding it very fascinating, though it seemed to cheer Neville up somewhat.
The trio headed through the train, searching compartments, and potential hidey-holes, and asked older students if they’d seen or heard a toad—which got them some odd looks.
Hermione ducked her head into one of the last compartments at this end of the train, hoping that Percy Weasley had had more luck than they did. “Have any of you seen a toad? Neville here has lost his,” Hermione asked the compartment's inhabitants.
A dark-haired boy with a large lightning bolt-shaped scar across his forehead was sitting inside beside a girl with a mass of dark curly hair that was drawn out of her face by a hair clip with stars decorated on it. Across from them sat a red-headed boy—the latter girl staring at him with an unimpressed expression—who was holding her wand at a rat who was squirming and squeaking madly in his grip. He looked a lot like Percy, Hermione noted, but she was distracted by the sight of an apparent magic attempt. She stepped inside with her curiosity, followed by Lily and Neville.
“Are you doing magic?” asked Lily, eagerly.
The boy’s ears turned red at Lily’s question, but he held the wand a little firmer. “Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow; turn this stupid, fat rat yellow.” He waved his wand, but nothing happened, which turned his face a fuschia shade of red with his fury and embarrassment. “It was probably my brothers playing a prank on me again . . .”
“I did warn you that was probably the case,” said the curly-haired girl.
“Well, your pronunciation was great!” Hermione complimented, smiling in a way she hoped was reassuring and made him feel less embarrassed. She doubted any of them could do spells yet—Hermione hadn’t tried, because of the wards on her wand that alerted the Ministry to underage magic use out of Hogwarts, but she was eager to try. “I’m Hermione Granger, and this is Lily Moon and Neville Longbottom.”
The curly-haired girl greeted Neville familarly. “My name’s Adeline. I’ve known Neville and Ron, here—” she nodded at the red-headed boy, “Since we were toddlers. All Pureblood children usually know each other because our families tend to be pretty close,” she explained, which made Hermione wonder: if she had been raised with her father, would she of already known Adeline, Neville and Ron? “Oh, and this is Harry Potter. I met him in Diagon Alley.”
Hermione instantly recognised the name, though the scar should’ve given it away. It seemed that Neville and Lily both recognised the name, as they both gaped a little, though Lily did her best to level her expression.
Harry looked at them warily and Hermione did her best to change the subject from the boy who looked rather uncomfortable at their attention on him. “Ron, we met your brother, Percy, before. He was helping Neville look for his toad.”
Ron rolled his eyes. “I hope he wasn’t a prat. He’s always been bossy, but ever since he found out he was Prefect during the summer, he’s been absolutely insufferable. He’s always telling me what to do at home, and now he’ll get to tell me what to do all year.”
Ron went on to explain that he had six siblings—something Hermione, as an only child, couldn’t imagine. He had five brothers and one sister, and it seemed that all of them were rather interesting. Bill, the eldest, was a Cursebreaker for Gringotts bank and was currently on assignment in Egypt. He worked to make the jobs of archaeologists safer by clearing out tombs and pyramids of curses and hexes or purifying cursed objects, which Hermione thought was fascinating and she had to hold back from asking him a world of questions. Charlie, the second eldest, had graduated last year and ran off to train to be a dragon handler and trainer at the Romania Dragon Reserve. Hermione didn’t even know places like that existed—Dragons being real was enough of a shock to her when she read about them in one of her textbooks.
The next three siblings all attended Hogwarts still. There was Percy, who was looking to go into the Ministry of Magic once he graduated as a lawyer in the Wizengamot. The twins—Fred and George—were second-year Gryffindors, but where the other Weasley children tended to be studious and gatherers of accomplishments, the two cared for nothing but causing the most amount of trouble possible. They wanted to open a joke store once they left Hogwarts, which supposedly angered their mother to no end.
The youngest child, Ginny, was the only girl in the family and would join them at Hogwarts next year. Ron said that because she was the baby of the family, she was spoiled by all of her brothers, but that she was a fiery girl even at ten, who would no doubt be relishing the emptiness of their house—the Burrow—for the year.
Ron’s father had once been an Auror during the war but retired to work in the Ministry of the Magic as the Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office so that he had a safer job as his kids got older. He worked in tandem with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to both protect the Statute of Secrecy and ensure that wizards didn’t misuse magic to harm one another or Muggles. Ron’s mother had been a midwife at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies, until she’d gotten pregnant and decided she wanted to be a stay-at-home parent until her children got older. Supposedly, she was thinking of returning to the career next year once Ginny was off to Hogwarts.
Harry was an only sibling, and surprisingly—at least to Ron, Adeline and Neville, who were Purebloods and understood the world much better than Hermione, Lily or Harry did—had been raised in the Muggle world by his aunt and uncle, alongside their son. Hermione didn’t understand the implication of this, but it seemed the Purebloods did, though they didn’t elaborate. Harry didn’t speak much about his family, but judging by the threadbare, oversized clothes that he was wearing, Hermione didn’t think it was the best of homes. But Hermione didn’t speak her mind on this. Unless Harry was being hurt or was at risk, it wasn’t Hermione’s place to ask questions or get involved when she didn’t even know him.
Neville had been raised by his Grandmother after his parents—who’d been Aurors, which were magical police, Hermione remembered—became unable to. None of them asked what he meant by this, but Neville and Adeline grimaced enough that Hermione read between the lines that it had been grim circumstances.
Lily told them all about her Mum, a veterinarian, and her Dad, a landscaper. Harry bonded with Lily over a shared love for gardening and animals, with Adeline chiming in now and again, though she was quiet for the most part.
Adeline was the only one who didn’t share much information about herself.
She was a very pretty girl but had a serious look about her that Hermione attributed to her facial structure. She had grey eyes that constantly seemed to be assessing the room around her, high cheekbones, pale skin and full lips. And other than telling them that she lived with her aunt and uncle, the conversations about gardening and animals, and asking Neville how his summer had been and if his grandmother was doing well, she remained silent. Hermione wasn’t sure if she was nervous, or just a more introverted person, but something about her felt familiar, though Hermione just shrugged it off as them both having rather wild curly hair.
The stars were high in the sky and twinkling for them all to see now that they were well away from London’s light pollution.
Hermione checked her watch and gasped. “Oh! We’re due to arrive in thirty minutes,” she told them all, “We should change into our robes.”
“I should check on Persephone, too,” said Lily, standing from her seat and brushing the creases from her dress.
“What about Trevor?” Neville exclaimed, clearly having forgotten their original purpose when entering the compartment.
“The train is charmed against anything falling out the windows or doors, or from anyone leaving once it’s set off,” explained Adeline as she pulled a pair of plain black uniform robes over her long skirt and blouse. “As long as you had him on the train when we took off, he’ll be somewhere. Perhaps when we deboard you can ask Hagrid, the Gameskeeper, or one of the station officers—they always do a sweep of the train when they collect our trunks and pets to make sure nothing’s been left behind.”
“O-Okay,” agreed Neville after a few moments, looking a little more reassured as he said his goodbyes and left the compartment to go get dressed.
Back in their compartment, Hermione and Lily pulled on their outer robes and made sure they had all of their things organised as the train came to a stop in Hogsmeade Station.
Students deboarded onto the lantern-lit platform, the Prefects and Station Officers directing students to a procession of waiting carriages, that slowly began to pull them up toward the castle. Meanwhile, an enormous man with a scraggly beard and a bundle of wiry, black curly hair beckoned over the first years, introducing himself as Hagrid, the Keeper of Grounds and Keys at Hogwarts.
After counting them all to make sure they were all there, he led them down a rocky pathway that followed the edge of the Forbidden Forest, eventually opening up to the shore of the Black Lake.
It was there they got their first glimpse of their new home.
Hogwarts loomed on a mountaintop, overlooking the enormous lake. Turrets and towers reached high into the sky as if yearning to befriend the stars. Windows glowed and felt like a beacon pulling them in. Hermione had never seen something so beautiful, but simultaneously haunting.
Awe-filled whispers spread throughout the crowd of first years as Hagrid helped them into a fleet of little boats, Hermione and Lily getting into one with two other girls. With the point of a pink umbrella, Hagrid directed them off of the shore and they began their journey to the other side of the shadowy lake. Once they reached the cliffs, their boats proceeded one by one into a channel that opened up into an expansive underground cave. The waves lapped at the boats as they carefully scrambled onto shore and to the base of a grand stone staircase while Hagrid checked their boats for any forgotten items.
In one, he reached for something and when he stood, a croaking toad was cradled in his hands. “Anyone lost this?”
“Trevor!” Neville cried in relief, reaching for his pet, but Hagrid kept a firm hold of him.
“You won’t be able to take ‘im into the Great Hall—pets aren’t allowed at feasts. I’ll keep hold of ‘im till ya sorted, then I’ll put ‘im in your room,” he answered in his thick accent—possibly a West Country one, but Hermione wasn’t sure. Hagrid tucked Trevor into the enormous pocket of his fur coat and trumped up the stairs, the first years shuffling along after him. He knocked thrice on the massive door with a scarred fist and it cracked open.
On the other side stood Professor McGonagall, assessing them with her dark, serious eyes.”Thank you, Hagrid. I’ll take them from here.” Without another word, Hagrid shoved back past them and set to directing the boas across the water to a nearby boathouse.
Professor McGonagall led them into a cavernous Entrance Hall, made of stone that was scuffed and chipped in areas from thousands of years of rowdy teenagers living in its midst. Lining the walls were hundreds of moving portraits that greeted them as they passed, crowding into one another’s frames to get a look at the new students. Hermione could hear Harry explaining to Ron that photos and portraits didn’t move in the Muggle world. Ron seemed to be disturbed by this fact—Hermione thought it was more disturbing that they did move.
In a small side room off of the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall gave them a small speech about what the feast would entail, as well as telling them about the houses and the House Cup. When she left to see if the older students were all sitting and ready, there was a mad scramble to straighten robes and hair. Hermione helped to quickly re-braid one of Lily’s plaits that were coming loose, and in turn, Lily brushed a crease from Hermione’s robes. Behind them, they heard a yelp of fear and Hermione turned to see what the commotion was.
Ghosts were floating through the walls and into the room. Sure, she’d read that the school was occupied by many ghosts, but seeing them in real life was an entirely different story. Hermione wasn’t sure if she liked them, they unnerved her.
The ghosts floated about, talking to students and looking them over. “New first years!” said one with an excited voice, “I am the ghost of Hufflepuff, the Fat Friar! If you shall need anything, you must only seek me.” Hermione thought it was a rather disrespectful name, but didn’t comment on it as getting on the bad side of a ghost on her first day probably wasn’t in her best interests.
Professor McGonagall re-entered the room. “Mr Friar, Sir Nick, leave the students be!” They went flying back through the wall at her scolding, floating through Ron as they did, leaving the boy shivering madly. The stern woman turned back to them all. “Gather in two single file lines and follow me.”
She led them back into the Entrance Hall where they approached the two doors that led into the Great Hall. Towering at least twenty feet into the air, they were made of pure gold and the Hogwarts crest etched into them. Professor McGonagall extended her wand and with a flick, the doors swung open, giving them entrance into the Great Hall.
The Great Hall was—as its name suggested—great. Longer than it was wide, it was entirely carved from stone, but the walls had been covered by paintings and banners that depicted the Hogwarts crest and each house's emblem, as well as portraits of famous witches and wizards. Above them, hundreds of candles floated beneath an enchanted sky that took the place of the ceiling. Today, it showed a clear night sky and its endless stars, making them feel as if they were outside in the grounds, instead of in the warm, lively hall. Four long tables filled the majority of the room, all occupied by students who sat beneath hanging banners for their houses. At the far end of the hall, two teacher’s tables were set onto a slightly raised platform, one in front of the other—Hermione guessed that the one in front, which was occupied by Professor Dumbledore, was the one for teachers of the most seniority—and inset in the wall behind them were four stained glass windows, all depicting a house crest.
It was unlike any room Hermione had ever had the pleasure of seeing before, and knowing that all of her meals for most of the next seven years would be held here was an indescribable feeling of disbelief and childish glee.
Professor McGonagall led them through the mass of students, all scrutinising them, to a stool that had a dusty old hat sitting on it. A tiny wizard, who reminded Hermione of the Gringotts goblins, handed Professor McGonagall a scroll which she held in her palms as she addressed them, “Before you can be sorted we will hear the Sorting Hat’s song of the year.”
A wide brim opened up on the Sorting Hat and began to sing to them. When it finished, the Hall burst into applause. The hat bowed to each of the houses and then settled again. Somewhere nearby, Hermione could hear Ron whisper to Harry that his brothers, Fred and George, had told him he’d have to wrestle a troll.
“Now, when I call your name, you will step up to the platform and take a seat. I will place the Sorting Hat on your head and you will be sorted.” Professor McGonagall unrolled the scroll and called, “Abbott, Hannah!”
A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of the group and put on the hat, which fell over her eyes. Hermione recognised her last name as the first one listed in the Pure-Blood Directory, and she knew that her aunt, Ida, currently served on the Wizengamot. After a moment of silence, the hat called, “HUFFLEPUFF!”
The table on the right, donned in yellow-lined robes, broke out into applause as Hannah went to join them, Mr Friar the ghost waving at her merrily. Another girl named Susan Bones joined Hufflepuff next, Ron whispering behind Hermione that Susan’s aunt, Amelia, was the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and had once been his Dad’s boss. Terry Boot joined Ravenclaw, the table of students dressed in blue-lined robes, as did Mandy Brocklehurst. Lavender Brown was the first student to join Gryffindor, the house wearing red-lined robes, and Hermione spotted Ron’s siblings clapping loudly for her along with their house.
Millicent Bulstrode was the first student to join Slytherin followed by Tracey Davis, and Hermione frowned at how quiet their applause had been from the other houses. Justin Finch-Fletchley, a boy that Hermione recognised as being part of the group that Professor McGonagall took to Diagon Alley, joined Hufflepuff next.
As more and more students were sorted, Hermione noted that some students took more time to be sorted than others—such as Seamus Finnegan, who took a whole minute to be sorted into Gryffindor, and Daphne Greengrass, who took almost two minutes to be sorted before she was placed in Slytherin.
“Granger, Hermione!” Hermione’s stomach dropped at her name being called, and with a pat on the arm from Lily for good luck which she returned with a smile, she steeled herself to step up to the stool.
Professor McGonagall dropped the hat onto her head, and a voice whispered in her ear, loud enough to make her jump, “Hello, Miss Granger. What an interesting mind that you have,” The voice spoke, “You’re very brave and determined, something that would make you a great addition to Gryffindor, but you’re too interested in theoretical pursuits to care about heroics—though you could do so one day if you applied yourself. You care much for the oppressed and unseen of the world, like many in Hufflepuff, who value those who are good-natured and value hard work. But I feel you are much closer in similarity to those in Ravenclaw and Slytherin, who value knowledge, dedication and the pursuit of academic achievement. However, where Slytherin values these things for personal pastimes, Ravenclaw is single-minded about their intelligence and values it over many other aspects of their lives. Because of this, I believe you will be best in a place where you may be able to use your desire for knowledge to form strong relationships with those who might need you as much as you need them, while also still being challenged. Therefore, let it be—” The hat paused as if for dramatic purposes before it projected its voice to the entire hall. “SLYTHERIN!”
Professor McGonagall plucked the hat from her head, and while Lily clapped eagerly, and others clapped gently, Hermione could feel the reluctance from her new house, who assessed her as if she were a wild animal. Hermione approached the table cautiously and took a seat beside Millicent Bulstrode who nodded at her in greeting but said nothing in the way of a greeting. Unsure of what was going on, Hermione turned back to the Sorting, deciding to focus on that for now.
“Lestrange, Adeline!” The girl they’d sat with on the train was called next, and the room went quiet.
Hermione recognised the last name as one on the Pure-Blood Directory. It is mentioned that one of Regulus’ cousins, Bellatrix, had married Rodolphus Lestrange. Hermione suddenly understood why she had thought Adeline looked familiar—it was because they were related, and Hermione was seeing much of the same features in Adeline that she and Regulus both shared. However, Hermione also realised that this meant that Adeline was the daughter of one of Voldemort’s closest supporters, Bellatrix, and was the daughter of two incarcerated Death Eaters. That must’ve been why everyone had gone quiet.
Adeline didn’t seem bothered by the silence. She took a seat with a raised chin, refusing to look cowed. The hat fell over her eyes and two minutes later called, “SLYTHERIN!” Most within the hall didn’t clap for her sorting, so Hermione did. Adeline smiled at her in thanks as she sat beside her with the other first years.
Luckily, the room picked up in mood as Neville was sorted into Gryffindor, followed by Morag MacDougal, who went to Ravenclaw.
“Malfoy, Draco!” A pale boy with white-blond hair swaggered up to the stool, and before the hat was settled on his head completely, it made its decision: “SLYTHERIN!” Draco Malfoy hopped off the stool with a confident smirk and sat down beside Millicent to the claps of Slytherins, many looking at him proudly. Malfoy—another name Hermione recognised. After Griphook had mentioned Narcissa, she’d looked her up in the Pure-Blood Directory, and knew that like Bellatrix, her sister, she’d only had one child: Draco. That meant the slightly cocky-looking blond was also her second cousin.
This whole ‘Regulus-Black-was-her-Dad’ drama was beginning to make things a lot more complicated for her.
Lily went to Hufflepuff to the sounds of Hermione’s joyous cheering and sat with Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott. Pansy Parkinson, a girl with very short black hair and green eyes, looked at Hermione warily as she sat down across from her. Parvati Patil went to Ravenclaw, her twin, Padma, to Gryffindor, Sally-Anne Perks to Hufflepuff and then Harry was called.
If Hermione thought the room went silent for Adeline, it did the opposite for Harry. Whispers erupted all over the house tables—even Slytherin, which Hermione was realising was very stoic by nature. “The Harry Potter?” Hermione heard someone behind her at the Ravenclaw table whisper to their friend, “He’s smaller than I’d imagined.”
The hat fell over Harry’s eyes, hiding him from the students vying for a glimpse at him like he was a zoo animal; students who all waited with bated breaths for where he’d be sorted. After a minute or so, the hat called, “GRYFFINDOR!” Gryffindor exploded with noise. The entire house stood to welcome a very embarrassed-looking Harry to the table with celebratory pats on the back. Harry ended up sitting beside Neville, who welcomed him with a soft smile.
After Harry, the final students were sorted. Slytherin gained Alana Runcorn, Theodore Nott Jr, and Blaise Zabini, while Gryffindor was joined by Dean Thomas and Ron—the applause from Ron’s brothers overshadowed the entire hall, it seemed, but Ron seemed to bask in the praise of his siblings.
Once Professor McGonagall had removed the hat and stool, their Headmaster stood from his ornate, throne-like chair. He looked to be easily over one hundred years old. Hermione privately thought that his long-white hair, even longer-white beard and colourful wizard's robes reminded her of Gandalf from the Lord of the Rings books. Dumbledore opened his arms wide as he addressed them with a beaming smile and pale blue eyes, “Welcome, welcome, to another year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words—and here they are: Nitwit; Blubber; Oddment; Tweak!”
Hermione was unable to ponder his strange introduction to them all as food appeared on the tables.
Her Mum had grown up cooking every night, no matter how tired she worked, and on the weekends, she would often bake goods for Hermione—and their neighbours, when she inevitably made too much—but even her Mum’s feasts were rivalled by the amount of food spread out across the Slytherin table.
Trays were overflowing with meat of all kinds: roast beef and chicken, chicken wings and thighs, pork and lamb chops, sausages, bacon, steak, and even duck! Pots of steaming potatoes, carrots, peas and pumpkin were infused with the mouth-watering smell of herbs. There were salads, gravy, white sauce, ketchup, butter, small platters of chips, dinner rolls, pastries and puddings. In large pitchers were water, milk, orange juice, pumpkin juice and non-alcoholic Butterbeer, which Hermione had never tried but seemed to be a favourite of many students.
Hermione dished her plate up with a heaping of vegetables—something her Mum had never had to force her to eat as Hermione had always loved them—as well as some salad and a small side of roast chicken, which she preferred over beef and pork. She added a buttered dinner roll to her plate and poured herself some orange juice before digging in.
“So, Hermione, was it?” asked a girl’s voice. When she looked up, Pansy Parkinson was looking at her with assessing, brown-almost-black eyes. “Are you related to the Dagworth-Granger family?”
The name sounded oddly familiar, but Hermione couldn’t pinpoint it. “No, I’m not.”
“You’re a Mud—Muggleborn, then?” she asked bluntly.
Hermione blinked at her in surprise. She’d known that some—or rather, most—of the Slytherins were Purebloods and that many of them looked down on Muggles, and by association, Muggleborn students. However, she hadn’t expected it to be so openly questioned before they’d even gotten through dinner. She thought about lying at first, wanting to keep her parentage a secret, but why should she? She had nothing to be ashamed of. Her father was probably dead, and she would never know him. She deserved to at least have a part of him in some sense of the word, but she also didn’t feel like having to explain herself to anybody who didn’t know her.
“No, I’m not,” declared Hermione, “But my mother is a Muggle.”
“A Muggle? Not a Muggleborn?”
“Yes. Is that a problem?” Pansy didn’t answer, but judging by the way her nose wrinkled as if she’d smelled something bad, and the whispers breaking out down the table—older students looking at her wearily—it clearly was a problem to many.
“A half-blood is one thing, but a Muggleborn mother?” snorted Draco, “That’s not right. You don’t belong in Slytherin.”
“Well, that’s entirely ridiculous. Muggleborn Slytherins are rare, but not unheard of,” interrupted Daphne Greengrass, who was cutting up a pork chop, rather than biting into it. “She must have something Slytherin in her to of been sorted here, otherwise she wouldn’t be here, Draco. Let her prove herself first before you cut her off.”
Daphne looked like a rich girl if Hermione had ever seen one. She had blonde hair only slightly darker and warmer than Draco’s, and gleaming blue eyes. She sat with perfect posture, and wore a string of real pearls around her neck, with matching pearl studs in her ears. She reminded Hermione of some of the girls at St. Catherine’s.
“I don’t make a habit of spending time around Mudbloods,” Draco sneered, but he didn’t seem very confident as he spoke. Maybe he was just trying to play himself up in front of the others in their House, she wondered, but didn’t want to bring it up and have him snap that word about her again—because this word was something that she did know, and it wasn’t something that felt particularly lovely to be called, even if she wasn’t one by definition.
“None of us but Hermione know why she was put into Slytherin,” said Adeline suddenly, her voice full of ire. “But she’s at Hogwarts to learn like the rest of us. You don’t have to be her friend, but calling her slurs before she’s even attended a single class is low class, even for you, Draco.”
The table was significantly cowed in the wake of Adeline’s words—particularly Draco, who didn’t look up from his dinner until the plates had disappeared and dessert took its place.
There were puddings, bowls of ice cream in every imaginable flavour, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs, jam doughnuts, strawberries and other fruits, jelly, rice pudding and more.
Hermione had never had much of a sweet tooth, so she only grabbed a small bowl of vanilla ice cream, eating in silence and letting the sweet soothe her hurt feelings.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
After dessert, Dumbledore stood once more, shushing the crowd of stuffed, exhausted students who were eager to get to bed.
“I have a few start-of-term notices to give you, now that we are all fed and watered. First-years should note that the forest on the grounds beyond the marked boundary is forbidden to all pupils without a staff escort—a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well,” Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins. “I have also been asked by Mr Filch, our caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used in the corridor between classes. Additionally, Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone looking to play for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch, as well as anyone looking to join the school Quidditch Skirmish Club. All other extracurricular clubs and study groups will begin in the second week of term—information for which can be found in your common room once times and locations are confirmed by the staff. Finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death.”
Hermione blinked in shock at his words . . . A corridor that could cause death in a school full of children? She thought he simply must be joking, but when she looked at the hard expression on his face, and the confusion on the faces of students, she knew he was very serious indeed.
“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” cried Dumbledore excitedly. He waved his wand and a long golden ribbon flew out the tip, rising high above the tables where it twisted snake-like into words. “Everyone pick their favourite tune and off we go!”
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
The Slytherin first years were led out of the Great Hall by this year's fifth-year Prefects, Terrence Higgs and Gemma Farley. Terrence was brown-haired with brown eyes and was both tall and rather muscular—Hermione heard Draco tell Blaise Zabini that the boy was a Beater for the Slytherin Team, and had been paid by Draco’s father, Lucius, over the summer to learn evasive manoeuvres on a broomstick for when Draco joined the Slytherin Quidditch Team. Gemma Farley was tall for a girl, but very thin, and her dark, pin-straight hair was pushed out of her face by a headband that accentuated her sharp jaw and arched eyebrows.
They were taken down below the first floor, to the castle dungeons where the Slytherin Common Room was located. Hermione did her best to remember the route from the Great Hall, but with all of the numerous passageways that were lit only by torchlight, everything began to look the same. It was an almost ten-minute walk before they spotted a Slytherin student up ahead slip through a gap in the wall—Hermione guessed this must be the entrance to the common room.
“This is the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room. This week’s password is Salazar, which is purposely easy for your first week. However, it changes weekly. The new password is posted every Monday on the house bulletin board by Professor Snape, our Head of House. Memorise it, but do not write it down. We don’t need other houses sneaking in because you left the password lying around on a scrap bit of parchment.” Judging by the eye roll Gemma let off when she said this, it had happened before.
The entrance had closed so Gemma repeated the password, and they watched as the stones folded in on themselves similarly to the entrance to Diagon Alley. The adjoining hallway was narrow and lit only by a singular torch, but the other end opened up into a larger room, which Gemma led them into, Terrance bringing up the rear of their group.
The Slytherin Common Room was a colossal space of rough pale stone walls, and a domed ceiling, from which hung a chandelier. The centre of the common room was lower in the middle and surrounded by three steps that led up to areas built for studying. On the far end of the room, the wall was made entirely of glass, which allowed them a view into the murky depths of the Black Lake—chairs and couches were set up in front of the glass for students. Four fireplaces roared throughout the room, and students had already claimed some of the chairs and couches closest. Many of the already gathered students looked at Hermione curiously, but she paid them no mind as she surveyed the rest of the room. To the left and right were stairs leading upward, but she couldn’t see what they led to.
“Find somewhere to sit or stand,” instructed Terrance, “Snape doesn’t like interruptions, so keep quiet once he begins talking. When he’s finished, stay here. I will take the boys up to their dormitories, and Gemma will take the girls.”
Terrance and Gemma both disappeared off to their friends while they waited and were eagerly welcomed into conversation, as did many of the other first years. Some students tried to rope Adeline into conversation, but she seemed uninterested. Hermione remained where she was, comfortable to observe for now.
It was only a few minutes before a lull fell over the room as a man swept into the common room from the entrance. He was very tall, and looked like a patron for the colour black: he had black hair, and black eyes, and his robes were black from head to toe. He looked them over with a serious, sneer-like expression on his face. Hermione could feel the power he held over the room, who waited on his words like followers waiting on a prophet.
“Welcome to Slytherin House,” he said in a deep, slow drawl. “I am Professor Snape. I am your Head of House and Hogwarts’ Potions Master. Before I get to announcements, I have these words to say to the first years joining our House: Slytherin House does not need disrespectful, unambitious, lazy students. Anything other than your very best is unacceptable. If you have come to Hogwarts to be anything but talented and successful, and a credit to Salazar Slytherin’s hallowed house, you need to reassess your motivations. In Slytherin, you will learn to value what your skills can be applied to; you will forge relationships and allies to last a lifetime, but only if you apply yourself in everything you do. I expect you all to arrive on time, prepared and undistracted by trivial, teenage worries in every class. I expect you to ensure each other’s success and to set a standard for one another, and those to come after you. I do not like to be disappointed, so do not disappoint me.”
Hermione straightened her spine at his words. She’d never in her life done anything other than her best. To her, the thought of a Professor being disappointed with her work ethic and dedication in any capacity was terrifying to a girl who had put so much stock in the opinions of others. Suddenly, she was very glad she had remained cooped up inside for those final weeks of summer, reading her school books and doing her level best to understand what she’d be learning this year.
“Next, I would like to congratulate this year’s fifth-year Prefects: Miss Farley and Mr Higgs. I would also like to congratulate Mr Tiberius on his new status as Head Boy. As you all know, this means he will spend the next year sitting in on Wizengamot meetings with the Head Girl, where they will be granted the prestigious opportunity to not only learn about the inner workings of the Ministry but they will be allowed to bring forth the favour of the students to the Wizengamot and contribute to voting. At the end of the year, should they do well, they will be offered jobs from any number of Ministerial Departments. Let that be a reminder to you of where you can ascend to should you strive for it.
“Finally . . . Headmaster Dumbledore and the faculty have not yet finalised the timetables for Quidditch, extracurriculars or study clubs. If you were on the Slytherin Quidditch Team last year, or were a club leader, and are unable to commit to those responsibilities this year, see me first thing tomorrow so I can advise the faculty before the finalisation of timetables. Prefects will need to see me tomorrow morning to receive their duties for this year.” He didn’t bother saying goodbye before departing the common room with a sweep of his cloak.
Slytherin House disappeared in different directions—either to converse with friends or make their way to bed. Meanwhile, Gemma and Terrance re-grouped with the first years. They were shown the study areas, fitted with desks and bookshelves that were filled to the brim with the House’s personal library—the books that had been left behind by previous students and professors, which had Hermione positively ecstatic to explore. They were instructed not to interrupt the fifth or seventh years once January commenced as they’d be studying for exams.
“We also take pride in our common room,” said Terrence, “If you make a mess, you clean it up—the same goes for your dormitory. The castle might be cleaned by house elves, but Professor Snape will have your head if you treat the common room and your space like a dumping ground. That also means no eating or drinking near any of the house books, and unless you have express permission from a Prefect or Professor Snape, the books aren’t to be removed from the common room.”
“Regarding dormitories: the girl’s dormitories are to the left, and the boys to the right. There are no express rules banning you from one another’s dorms, but if you are caught after curfew, it’ll be a month’s detention,” explained Gemma, “Girls, follow me and I’ll get you settled.”
They followed Gemma up a small flight of stairs to the first landing, where there were even more couches, tables, chairs and bookshelves. From there, they went up another flight of stairs that opened to a hallway. Gemma led them to the end and turned to face them. “Bathroom is to the right. It can get busy in the morning and before bed, so be mindful of one another’s time.” She showed them inside, where there was a long line of toilet stalls, shower stalls, and sinks—in front of which some girls were getting ready for bed.
Back in the hallway, they were led to the left, There were seven doors along its length—three on one side, and four on the other—and each door had a year level imprinted on it. Theirs was at the very end of the hallway. Inside, the dormitory was much larger than Hermione had expected. It had seven beds, three on one side and four on the other, that were named for each student. Hermione’s was on the left side, closest to the window that looked out into the Black Lake. Her trunk was already set at the end of her bed, waiting to be unpacked.
“The room is magically extended to adjust depending on the number of girls in the year, and the window is charmed to be impenetrable—something we all learnt last year when a first-year tried a blasting charm in the dorms that ended up ricocheting into the glass,” said Gemma, “You each have a dresser, bedside table, wardrobe and desk. Inside your wardrobe is a hamper—any dirty clothing should be put there and the house elves will wash and return it to your room when they clean during class. Once a week, Prefects perform a dormitory check. If it’s a mess, you’ll all lose points, so be thoughtful enough to keep it in check. You all share a couch, as well as a bookshelf that will adjust for the amount of space you need. I will be by at eight tomorrow to collect you all for breakfast so that you can receive your timetables and a map to help you get around. Usually, breakfast begins at six-thirty every morning to account for Quidditch players, and ends at ten, to account for morning free periods.”
With her speech concluded, the girls all began to unpack their things. Meanwhile, Hermione was called into the hallway by Gemma, who closed the door for privacy.
“I heard what Malfoy and Parkinson said at dinner,” she began, “I won’t lie to you, Granger . . . while many students in the castle won’t bat an eye at a difference in heritage, many in Slytherin will, and they’ll make your time difficult until you prove yourself.”
“But why . . .” murmured Hermione, “I’m just trying to learn.”
“I understand. I have no qualms about your placement, but many will purely because of history. Don’t let them get to you. The Sorting Hat placed you in Slytherin for a reason, and that’s all that matters. If you focus on your studies and succeed here, nobody can hold your heritage against you, no matter their opinions on the matter.” Hermione smiled in thanks for the girl's words. “Now get to bed. It’s been a long day and I already have a headache.”
Hermione slipped back into the room and beelined for her bed, eager to get organised for tomorrow and get some sleep, as the exhaustion of the day was finally getting to her. She could hear Pansy Parkinson whispering to Millicent Bulstrode, but she ignored it. Instead, she unbuckled her trunk and set to unpacking.
Clothes were moved to her wardrobe and her undergarments and pyjamas to her dresser. On her bedside table, she deposited her wand, watch, walkman, camera, empty photo album, cassette tapes and journal. She filled her school bag with stationary for tomorrow, though she couldn’t pack her books yet as she didn’t know what classes she would have yet. She folded her blanket over her Slytherin green duvet and set her elephant on her pillow. She unpacked all of her books—except her father’s, which she left safe in her trunk—onto her desk and gathered her toiletries. Once clean, she climbed into bed, closing the curtains around her.
She fell asleep to the sounds of her roommates: Adeline tacking posters to the wall that had Pansy complaining to Daphne who didn’t seem to be listening, Millicent and Tracey talking about classes, and Alana organising her books alphabetically.