Chapter Text
Hermione was sitting alone in her compartment on the Hogwarts Express, attempting—for the umpteenth time—to read her new fifth-year Charms textbook. She knew the names of the spells by heart, along with their applications and the precise wand movements required, but the noise coming from the rest of the students on the train was driving her up the wall. She was completely unable to concentrate, even with the compartment door closed.
It’s unbelievable that they still behave like children, she thought, peering out into the corridor. There, she spotted four Hufflepuff students lifting another by his arms and legs, laughing as they did.
She snapped her book shut and stepped out of the compartment, striding toward them with firm determination.
At last, she could reprimand troublesome students without them being able to protest. She had achieved something that seemed impossible to others: she was a Ravenclaw prefect. It didn’t surprise her. She was, by far, the best student of her year—more mature than her peers and always meticulous when it came to rules.
“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” Hermione demanded, folding her arms and fixing them with a sharp stare.
The four immediately dropped their friend, who hit the floor with a dull thud.
“Nothing,” one of them replied, letting out a laugh that the others quickly echoed. “We were just taking him to the loo because he wasn’t feeling well.”
Their laughter rang even louder down the corridor.
“Do you really think I’m stupid?” Hermione snapped, frowning. “You’d better stop right now, or I’ll start deducting points before we even reach the castle.” She lifted her chin slightly, making sure they could see her prefect badge.
The five exchanged irritated glances before finally walking away, muttering amongst themselves.
Hermione checked her wristwatch: fifteen minutes until the first prefects’ meeting. She intended to be the first to arrive, so she headed toward the designated carriage.
As she walked, she mentally reviewed her list of proposed improvements for prefect duties, determined to present them to Professor McGonagall.
The meeting had been going on for nearly twenty minutes when the door suddenly opened. Everyone present—including Hermione—turned at once.
The newcomer was a red-haired boy, thin and far too tall for his age. His Gryffindor robes were improperly fastened, his hair a mess, and he was breathing heavily.
He had clearly been running.
Hermione recognized him instantly: Ronald Weasley. Someone she deeply disliked. He constantly interrupted lessons with stupid jokes that Hermione reprimanded him for, which inevitably led to arguments between them. And when he wasn’t doing that, he was getting into trouble with Potter or picking fights with Malfoy.
How is he a prefect? she thought. Potter isn’t much better, but at least he’s a bit more serious. Have the standards really dropped this low this year?
“I was beginning to think you wouldn’t grace us with your presence today, Mr Weasley,” McGonagall said, frowning. “There’s an empty seat here at the front, next to Miss Granger.”
Hermione noticed Weasley scowl as he approached. She had the distinct impression the antipathy was mutual.
Weasley dropped into the chair with a mixture of laziness and indifference that irritated her immediately. How was it possible that he didn’t take his duties as a prefect seriously?
“As I was saying,” McGonagall continued, “this year the night patrols will be conducted in pairs from different houses, with the aim of improving relations between them.”
She said this while looking directly at Weasley and Malfoy. Malfoy scoffed; Weasley complained openly.
“It’ll be useless, Professor,” he said. “Unless the idea is to spend the night listening to Malfoy complain about how unfair the world is when he doesn’t get his way.”
Several laughs rippled through the room.
Hermione was just about to reprimand him—he was late and making jokes—when she noticed that even McGonagall allowed herself a small smile.
That only irritated her further.
“Very well. That’s everything you need to know about your duties as prefects,” McGonagall concluded. “If there are no questions, you are dismissed.”
The prefects began to stand. Weasley was already near the door when the professor’s voice rang out again.
“One moment, Mr Weasley. Miss Granger has a question.”
“Oh, come on, Hermione,” he said. “It’s a prefects’ meeting. They’re not going to give you twenty points for participating again.”
A few laughs sounded behind her.
“Maybe being a prefect doesn’t interest you, Weasley—just like the rest of your classes and anything that isn’t Quidditch,” Hermione shot back, looking at him with disdain, “but it does matter to me.”
The laughter grew louder.
Hermione watched Weasley turn red as he returned to his seat beside her.
“Miss Granger,” McGonagall interrupted, visibly annoyed, “if you’ve finished arguing, what is your question?”
Hermione blushed and scolded herself internally for letting herself be provoked. She couldn’t always stop herself from rising to his bait.
“I’m sorry, Professor,” she said, sitting up straighter. “It’s not exactly a question—more of a suggestion.”
She paused briefly, organizing her thoughts.
“I’ve noticed that prefects don’t begin our rounds until after this first meeting. I believe that leaves an unnecessary period without supervision during the journey.”
She lifted her chin slightly.
“Perhaps it would be more efficient for this meeting to take place before boarding the train—or even before the school year begins—so that we can assume our responsibilities from the moment students step aboard. It would help maintain order from the very start of the trip.”
The boos came immediately, just as she had expected.
“Maybe Granger gets bored being surrounded by Muggles all summer,” Malfoy remarked, “but I actually have fun things to do.”
Pansy Parkinson nodded enthusiastically.
“Silence,” McGonagall ordered. “Mr—”
“Her next brilliant idea will be having us help Filch with his chores,” Weasley muttered to Ernie and Hannah, before noticing the professor’s glare. “Sorry.”
Hermione shot him a smug look.
“Miss Granger, your proposal is quite interesting,” McGonagall said, “but as you can see, your fellow prefects do not share your enthusiasm.”
“A very astute observation, Professor,” Weasley added, giving Hermione a crooked smile.
How she hated that smile.
Hermione was seated in the Great Hall, waiting for the moment to guide the Ravenclaw first-years to their dormitories, when Luna Lovegood sat down beside her.
“Hi, Mione,” the blonde greeted cheerfully. “How were your holidays? Did you see any Nargles?”
Hermione liked Luna. Despite her absurd theories about nonexistent creatures and her peculiar way of dressing, she was the only one who didn’t tease her for her love of books—probably because they didn’t share classes.
Hermione had tried many times to reason with her, but Luna always insisted. Eventually, Hermione had simply given up.
“Fine, thank you,” she replied. “My parents took me to Switzerland to go skiing.”
She paused briefly.
“I also studied for my O.W.L.s and designed my study plan for this year. It’ll be the most demanding one yet. If I don’t follow my schedule to the letter, I won’t get the twelve ‘Outstandings’ I need for my career.”
“My dad and I were looking for Aquavirius Maggots in Loch Ness,” Luna said casually, “but we didn’t find any. You should come someday— with your intelligence, I’m sure we’d find one.”
“You shouldn’t worry so much about your O.W.L.s,” she added. “You’re the most studious person I know. You should watch out for Wrackspurts more, Mione—they muddle your brain.”
“Studying is serious, Luna,” Hermione replied, frowning. “And stop calling me Mione. You make me feel like I’m eight years old.”
“You should relax, Mione,” Luna said, completely ignoring her. “I met the perfect boy for you today. He’s in your year, too.”
“Luna—”
“I’m not joking,” she continued. “I met him on the train. He’s very funny. He’d help you relax and take all that pressure off. I can’t remember his name, but if I see him again, I’ll ask and tell you.”