Through Her Eyes

Chapter 4: The Sorting

"Hermione Black?"

The voice caught Hermione's attention as she lifted her head slightly, blinking at the long and somewhat unnerving face of Horace Slughorn standing before her,

'He's the head of house,' Hermione thought to herself, 'don't snap at him,'

She wasn't exactly fond of the man whom 'collected' people. But she merely placed her book aside and nodded,

"Hello professor,"

"I just came by to welcome you back. I was so worried when I heard about your accident,"

Hermione wanted to lift her brow in suspicion, but kept it in place as Quitz appeared with her cup of tea. Taking it with a soft mumble of thanks, Hermione addressed her former and current potions professor,

"Of course. That bloody boy could have killed me," She spat, mouth tasting sour at the words Hermione Black was putting forth, "but I'm not one to give up that easily,"

Slughorn laughed and nodded excitedly, holding the edges of his dark plumb robes with his hands as he leaned forward ever so slightly,

"Surely you'll be coming to dinner this weekend. The club has missed you,"

Hermione hid her grimace as she shifted slightly in her chair. The 'Slug Club' was Slughorn's way of showing favoritism to his students. She had no interest in being a part of it, but apparently Hermione Black was already a member,

"Perhaps, professor. I only just  returned to a normal routine,"

Hermione lied swiftly and easily, hoping the man would leave her alone. His smile twitched before he nodded his head rapidly,

"Of course dear, but we really do need a trend setter like you at the table. Anyway, good luck on your potions, I will see you all in class tomorrow,"

Then he was gone, back up the stairs as quickly as he appeared. Shaking her head and scoffing slightly in irritation, Hermione stood from the chair and picked up her textbook. She thought it best she retreat into the dormitory before Lucius and Narcissa decided to have at it again.
The next day wasn't much better, as she was a Slytherin now, and spent most of her time with her housemates. (How anyone could put up with such cruel people, Hermione couldn't begin to understand). Even so, she still spent much of her spare time hauled up in the library, ignoring the questioning stares of Madame Pince, as well as the many Ravenclaw students often hogging the tables. It was just after Transfiguration when Professor McGongall called Hermione to stay after class. She did so studiously, but with slight nervousness. McGongall was no longer her head of house, and therefore she was under much scrutiny,

"You asked for me, Professor?" Hermione asked, standing by the Anamagi's desk with stiff shoulders. She missed the casual air between students and teachers during the war,

"Indeed I did, Miss Black. Professor Dumbledore has asked me to send you to his office,"

Hermione stiffened. She had only been in this new timeline for a week and already she was in trouble!

'It must have come in the 'how-to-be-a-Slytherin' guide for dummies,' Hermione grumbled inwardly, nodding as Professor McGongall dismissed her. Sighing, Hermione walked towards the hallway where the golden Griffon stood guard over the staircase. She had never really visited the headmasters office much when he was alive, and therefore was unable to push the unease out of her gut,

"Pumpkin Juice," Hermione spoke clearly, watching the Griffin turn it's back on her as the stairway began to ascend. Following it up, Hermione's nerves mounted even more. Coming upon the wooden door of the Headmasters office, she didn't even have time to knock before,

"Enter!"

Sighing deeply to calm down - a nervous Slytherin is a pathetic Slytherin - Hermione entered. The walls were lined with books and scrolls, all covered in a fine layer of golden dust. In the middle of the room was a heavy, intricately carved desk, and behind that perched a bird. It observed Hermione with bead eyes as she gazed in awe upon his beautiful feathers. Harry had told her about Fawkes the Phoenix at one point in time, but she had never seen the bird in person,

"Miss Black. Thank you for coming on such short notice,"

Dumbledore appeared - practically popped from thin air - from behind a large tower of books, smiling under his whitish beard as Hermione nodded stiffly,

"You...wanted to speak with me, Professor?"

Dumbledore blinked before stroking his facial hair carefully, walking closer to his desk and grabbing a handful of beans from a bowl on his desk,

"Yes. Since waking from your accident, Miss Black, there has been an extraordinary change in you. As observed by myself and other teachers here at Hogwarts,"

'That's cause I fell off a bridge in 1998 and woke up 20 years in the past as a new person,' Hermione hissed in her head, blocking out the Legitimacy Dumbledore was attempting to use on her,

"I'd appreciate it if you stayed out of my head, professor," Hermione snipped sharply, causing the old man to pull back and laugh lightly,

"So sorry, dear, force of habit. As I was saying, I think this change permits me to re-sort you,"

"Re-sort me, sir?" Hermione asked, eyebrow shooting up as a frown pulled down her lips. She had never heard of someone being resorted halfway through the school year before, not even in Hogwarts: A History (Hermione's favorite book). Dumbledore nodded, waving his wand as the Sorting hat came down from a high shelf. The burlap and wrinkles didn't seem as deep as in her own time, but it was still rather pathetic looking, if Hermione were to admit,

"You certainly have become a different person upon awakening my dear. This seems most fitting of the situation. Now if you'll take a seat please?"

Hermione hesitated but did as she was told, plopping down into a chair across from Dumbledore's desk as the hat slowly descended down onto her head,

'Well, well,' it whispered, 'what are you now, Slytherin? So different then what you were before,'

"Get on with it hat," Hermione mumbled, sitting back and folding her arms stubbornly as the hat chuckled deeply,

'Still got some Slytherin in you then,' it mumbled, 'but what is this? Ah, you've seen things...terrible things,'

"I don't want to talk about it,"

'No, I'm sure you don't. I think you belong now in...GRYFFINDOR!"