Hermione Granger and the Philosopher's Stone

The Train Part 1

Hermione peeped one eye open. Huh, looked like that portal had worked after all. Satisfied that she wasn't going to crash into a wall, she cracked her other eye open as well. As she took everything in, she felt a deep sense of awe sink in. It was just like Diagon Alley. There were people everywhere, men and women in long robes accompanying their children. Owls were screeching and families were hugging. There were bunch of boys laughing and girls kissing each other on the cheek, giggling, and an entire clan of redheads was being fussed over by their equally ginger mother! Hermione realized she didn't just feel awe though, but a sense of belonging as well. She could now honestly say that this year was going to be different.

Hermione was ecstatic. Grinning, she immediately started pushing her cart forward. She had to get on the train. Otherwise she wouldn't have decent compartment. Plus she had to get their early so she could start introducing herself to the other children. 'Friends', Hermione thought, 'here I -' the sound of a throat being cleared behind her shook her out of her thoughts '-... come'

"Sweetie," her dad said, looking amused and something else Hermione couldn't define, when she turned around, "aren't you forgetting something?"

Hermione felt her eyes widen comically. Forgetting! How? She had checked everything at least three times. Not to mention she never forgot anything. Literally! Her eyes shifted from her dad's to her mom's face as if she'd be able to read the answer on her forehead. She was wearing a smile that seemed to strain her muscles in a way that couldn't possibly be comfortable. Her eyes were twinkling with what could either be pride or unshed tears. Overall she seemed kind of sad, but determined not to show it.

Her dad's deep chuckle drew her attention away before she could open her mouth. Looking around she saw him crouched down on the station floor, his arms wide open. "Come here, pumpkin," he said, still laughing slightly.

Hermione ran right into his arms, clasping her hands around his neck. Suddenly she felt herself being lifted into the air and giggled as she went. He hoisted her up and Hermione instinctively placed her hands on his shoulders to keep herself upright. He too was wearing a grin that seemed way too teary for such a cheery occasion.

Frowning she tried to reassure them, both of them. "It's only until Christmas," she said.

His grin widened, but Hermione was sure it was only for her benefit. If anything he seemed sadder than before. Opened her mouth to say something, anything, but no words came out. What could she possibly say to make them feel better when she didn't even understand what was making them sad in the first place? Then he put her back on her feet and before she had the chance to think something up she was being enveloped again, by her mom this time.

"Honestly, I'll be back before you know it," Hermione told her mom when she finally broke the hug. She had the same reaction as her father, though; she looked as if she was seconds away from crying and yet she kept her smile firmly in place.

Parents, Hermione didn't think she'd ever understand them. How they could be sad on such a wonderful occasion was truly beyond her. After a few more glances at each of their faces, Hermione decided to give up. They'd already made their way into each other's arms; they'd be fine. They'd probably be much better at consoling each other than she would. Thus with one last wave in their direction, Hermione hopped back to her card and started making her way through the mass. She quickly dropped her luggage of, boarded the train and started making her way through the long corridor.

She passed a few compartments, but those were mainly filled with children that seemed a bit too old to associate with her. Hermione was fairly certain that particular social rule counted even in the Wizarding world. Either way, she wasn't willing to risk it. Most of the first years, she found, sat in the back of the train. She had planned to pick a compartment with not too many people in it and then introduce herself to everyone, but – well – she kind of froze up every time she passed one. A tidal way of insecurities hit her hit her each time she paused in front one. What if they didn't like her? What if there were some weird wizard customs she didn't know of? She hadn't bought any books on etiquette – what if it was completely different – she'd never know. Each time she passed a compartment she steeled herself and each time she ranted herself out of actually going in.

Eventually, she found an empty compartment and sighed. It didn't look like she was going to enter any of the other ones so she might as well sit down in this one. Friends could wait, she supposed. She put her bag down on the seat and then installed herself beside it. She pulled her now favorite book, Hogwarts, A History, out of her bag and started to reread some of her favorite passages, specifically those describing the Hogwarts Houses.

Ravenclaw, known to prize intelligence, wit and knowledge, would be the obvious choice. Hermione was smart, that much was certain, and she supposed she could make a lot of intelligent friends there. The thought brought a smile to her face. Then again, she could make them all hate her by overshadowing them at every turn. That thought made her smile came right off again. Then there was Huffelpuff, which values hard work, fairness, and patience, was possible as well. She had always been dedicated after all and she did believe in fair play – no point in winning if you didn't beat your opponent fair and square. It could work; though the book did mention the house had a bit of a reputation when it came to its members being a tad dimwitted and, well, that would not do. Another house was Gryffindor, which was described to hold only the brave and the bold. Truth be told it was what she was hoping for. This house seemed to produce the heroes, the adventurers, but most of all everyone loved them, not liked as the Huffelpuffs, but truly loved. The book hadn't explicitly said it, but Hermione could tell they were the darlings of the school. There was nothing wrong with wanting to be adored? It probably wasn't in the cards for her though; she'd probably get put in Ravenclaw, nothing wrong with that.

She supposed she could get into the last house as well. Slytherin was the house where only the ambitious, cunning and resourceful thrived. Now she wasn't sure about cunning. Sure she was smart, but cunning was an entire different matter. The same counted for resourcefulness. She didn't really know as she'd never really been placed in a situation she had to think herself out of: every time her former classmates got a bit too much for her, something, which she now knew was magic, would blow up in their faces.

Also, Hermione had read that the founder Salazar Slytherin left the school because he refused to let muggleborns, like herself, into the school. This was, of course, at least a thousand years ago, around the time when muggles were still actually hunting witches and thus completely understandable. It was obviously outdated now though so Hermione didn't understand why it was so heavily featured. She had to admit though, there was one aspect of the house she did have though and she had it in spades: ambition. Whatever house she'd be sorted into, whatever courses she'd decide to take and whatever job she'd decide to practice, Hermione Granger would be someone, someone to write book about and quote in school. Hermione Granger would be someone to remember, because she refused to be anything less.