Chapter Text
Stars were firmly embedded in the midnight sky, a swirl of dazzle radiating in front of Hermione’s eyes. The wooden bottom of the boat shook slightly beneath her, a small wave of salty water lingering underneath. She felt the tiny jump of the sea a little too greatly for her liking. She made herself not look at the glistening pool of liquid, as beautiful as she knew it was. Her vision was enraptured by the massive galaxy of dark colors above her. She saw the peak of what looked like a tall stone castle, but she didn’t want to avert her eyes from the engulfing atmosphere just yet. As another bump hit the planks of their little ship, she jolted lightly, and brought her attention to the school. They were nearing a large and empty field of grass that led upwards to the building. As they came close to the shore, Hermione compared her rocky train ride to the serene boat journey she had just experienced.
She was definitely not expecting to run into Harry Potter himself, or his red-headed friend. After her encounter with them, she did reckon that she might’ve been a little bit too cold and had shown off, but truth be told, she was just very excited as well as extremely nervous. As a matter of fact, she hadn’t expected to run into anyone. At first, she believed this to be some sick joke, but on second thought, she realized that being the product of humiliation and ending up in some random far-away place was anyways a lot better than remaining at home with her parents. She had stumbled upon her first mistake as well: she had failed to find Neville’s frog, Trevor, and reflexively noted down that not being able to help a possible friend was strike one, at least in her book. To be perfectly honest, she didn’t have too much interest in the boy, on the contrast, he seemed quite dumb and naïve, which did not up mount to her standards. Did she even have standards? She thought mindlessly. All she knew is that she didn’t necessarily want to associate with that boy, or with the orange-haired Ron Weasley, as he had called himself. This judgement was quite harsh on her behalf, she gathered, but in all fairness, this was her only good shot at acquainting herself with others, and her pal group (or pair) had to be perfect. It must not be overseen that she makes the ideal friend or friends, for she had never had one before.
The dingy cruisers touched down on the ground with a nimble puff, tipping backwards ever so lightly. Hermione stepped out carefully, inspecting her surroundings closely. She couldn’t see too well; her vision was compromised by the blackness of the still night. Gingerly stepping on the soft grass, she followed the hairy giant who she recalled was named Hagrid, trying not to get pushed by the kids around her. She felt a lot smaller than the rest. Probably because she was. She hadn’t remembered a time when someone hadn’t told her that she was very little, and her bony knees and pointy elbows definitely did not advantage her lesser height. Peering at the taller heads above her, she continued on her way. Everyone was chattering amongst themselves and squealing whilst skipping along. Well, all except Hermione. Appearances were important, and she couldn’t be seen jumping around like some little kid. Not that it was in her nature either. Pushing her brown curly locks over her shoulders, she strode forwards confidently, finding a gap in the mass of children.
Ascending the path, she saw a few carriages, with no horse attached or coachman to tend to it, might she add. Hagrid signaled them onto the means of transport which led them away into the deep corners of a dense forest, where the only thing visible was a twinkle of very light, platinum hair.
***
Entering the castle, she adjusted her robes so that they wouldn’t drop down off of one of her shoulders. She ensured that all her buttons were neatly done and that her skirt was wrinkle-free and straight. Oh God, how she hated skirts. She was instructed to wear one on their arrival at Hogwarts. Why, she wasn’t sure, but she hoped that the following days (and for the rest of the school year) she would be allowed to put on the multiple pairs of trousers she had brought with her. Her legs were getting cold, her stupid flats not keeping her warm. Another item added to the list of things she would burn, along with those pesky skirts.
Once again running a hand through her thick hair, she flicked it backwards and out of her eyes. She had cut her bangs in a flawlessly straight line, above her long eyebrows, so that they wouldn’t bother her.
They stomped across a flight of marble stairs huddled altogether. Hermione never liked crowds or being part of a straining collective group, but she had no choice. She couldn’t help but feel a little claustrophobic. She wasn’t scared or intimidated by small places, just by people all knit together in a designated area.
A tall, graceful woman appeared before them, dressed in green velvet from head to toe. She was, by all means, very old, and her emerald eyes gazed at every single student vividly. Her hair was stiffened in place, by what Hermione could only assume was some very high-quality hairspray, under her quirky hat. No grey hair stuck out; they were all plastered against her scalp. Must’ve taken a hell of a time for her to get that hairstyle.
“Welcome to Hogwarts,” her voice was pointy and clear, although it was a bit shaky. “I am Professor McGonagall. In a few moments, you will pass these doors and join your classmates. However, before you can take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses.”
Houses…
Hermione had read about the four houses in a book called ‘Hogwarts: A History’, straight after she purchased it in a shop on Diagon Alley.
She went on to name all of the possible houses, Hermione recalling every single one, and how the students sharing a house are like a family. The Professor referenced the rules and consequences of breaking them, as well as points given for being vigilant, which could lead them to the House Cup. Mid-speech, a rather large boy se recognized as Neville stumbled forwards, yelling “Trevor!” So, he had found his missing toad. Everyone snickered, but they were instantly hushed by the woman before them.
Professor McGonagall marched away with an elegant posture, her heels clinking in the distance. The second she turned a corner, the idle chatter they were instructed not to commence, started. The first proper tone stood out lurid and strong:
“So it’s true then, what they’re saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts.”
The sliver of white hair that she’d seen in the dark emerged, walking up to where Harry potter stood. She looked at his pale face and piercing blue eyes. Came from somewhere in the North, that one did.
He continued as everyone muttered ‘Harry Potter’s’ golden name under their breaths as if it was sacred. Hermione on the other hand, did no such thing. She just stared promptly at the two very contrasting boys, eyebrows furrowed.
“This is Crabbe and Goyle,” the smirking boy motioned with the tilt of his head to two boulder-like children. Their faces were round and bulky, eyes small and pressed inside their fat heads. “And I’m Malfoy, Draco Malfoy,” he said proudly, inching closer to Harry whilst pushing away some other kid.
Ron Weasley carelessly snickered, gaining a threatening look from Malfoy.
“You think my name’s funny, do you? Don’t need to ask yours. Red hair and a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley.” Ron looked at him displeasingly and saddened, as Malfoy went on to face Harry. “You’ll soon find out that some Wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there,” He stretched out a ghost-like hand, offering Harry a shake. In turn, Harry looked down at his proposal, and declined with a smart comment:
“I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks.”
In that same moment, Malfoy’s irritated stare was interrupted by the Professor taping his shoulder with what looked like some sort of paper tube. Hermione was amused by Harry’s actions as she walked away, led by their teacher.
They all sauntered into a great hall filled with long, dark-brown tables. Other pupils older than them were already sat down, cheering when the first years entered. Hermione gawked curiously at the bewitched ceiling and the candelabra, as well as taking in the tall, cream, rock walls. Everything looked sculpted out of a fairy tale, only she didn’t like or believe in imaginative children’s stories. Yet here she was, living one.
The group all gathered up in front of what was presumed as the teacher’s dining table, and surprisingly, a tiny timber stool. Questioning faces glanced at each other, until they were silenced by Professor McGonagall directing her head towards an aged man with a long, pearl-white beard, and a very dubious, colorful outfit. His name, as Professor McGonagall pointed out, was Dumbledore.
He instructed everyone on more follow-up rules, at which Hermione yawned. She found the forbidden corridors and floors interesting, but the idea of not entering them bored her. She was even more intrigued to pursue them after the given description, presumably looking for trouble. She knew what would happen at home when she was up to no good, but surely that wouldn’t happen here, right? Her parents' attitude was far from normal or decent, that she knew. A few points taken away by a teacher would probably be her punishment. No biggie. Who would care about some dumb points anyways?
As Dumbledore’s speech ended, McGonagall brought out a battered Wizard’s hat and placed it on the stool. It looked very dirty and somehow old. All of a sudden, it started talking, a long song quivering from its… lips?
The tuneful poem mentioned the four houses, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin, as well as their specific traits. Hermione for one, was interested in Slytherin; it sounded the most badass and mysterious. She eyed Malfoy intensely, knowing for sure that that rude little boy would be placed in Salazar’s house. She was slightly enamored by him, but she had no idea why, as from first impressions he seemed like an insolent, disrespectful idiot. What could she say about respect though, when she was planning on not following the rules?
A few names were called before she heard her own. They were all said alphabetically by their last name, she noticed, and ‘G’ wasn’t too far along. Everyone would be placed in their fitted house by the Sorting Hat, and sonorous applauses would erupt through the hall. She broke through the heated pack of children, and positioned herself on the chair comfortably. Her feet dangled a few centimeters off the ground, reminding her of how short she was. She paid no further attention to that, and focused on the talking hat that was aimed above her head. It said a couple of things she hoped only she could hear, but judging by the grins and babble going on between the students, the hat’s thoughts weren’t only for her to catch.
I see a lot of bravery… followed by undeniable mischief. A clever mind as well, yes very intelligent… Yet it doesn’t possess the depths of empathy or understanding. I see cold lingering… I sense mystery and… darkness. You’d do well in multiple houses… Not Hufflepuff. Shall it be Gryffindor? Ravenclaw? No… you most definitely fit perfectly in… SLYTHERIN!