Hermione Granger and the Philosopher's Stone

The Train Part 3

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," the redhead said. Obviously, he was rude as well. Hermione mentally put him in the 'Only in Case of Emergencies' category, which was even lower than Neville; at least Neville was a nice person. It was only than that she noticed he had his wand out. The wand looked rather battered and something wide glinted at the end. That must be the core sticking out. She may not have gotten her hands on a wand making book yet but she was fairly certain it wasn't supposed to do that. Nevertheless, she was intrigued.

"O, are you doing magic?" she said, sitting down, "Let's see it, then."

She held her head raised so high she had to peer down to see what he was doing, her back as straight as a plank. The boy looked surprised and more than a little nervous. Hermione just hoped he wouldn't do anything that wasn't in their books. What if he did some complicated spell he'd learned from his parents as soon as he got his wand? She'd look like an absolute fool! Her foot started to tab and she couldn't bring herself to stop it.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow

Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

Nothing happened. Hermione allowed the corners of her lips to tug slightly upwards. He had waved his wand, but nothing had happened. She carefully breathed out. The rat was as grey as ever and still fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" Hermione drawled, taking the time to raise one very deliberate eyebrow before she continued: "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple just for practice and it's all worked for me." – Well, she'd practiced the incantation and the wand movement, but she hadn't actually attempted to do any magic since the first page of each of her school books clearly stated that magic by minors in muggle-inhabited areas. It didn't seem like they knew that though and she sure wouldn't be the one to tell them – "Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard – I've learnt all our set books off by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough – I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

Their faces were almost comical; their eyes were equally wide as they swallowed simultaneously. Then they looked at each other, quite obviously stunned. That's right! Hermione may not have had the advantage of growing up around magic, but she was more than capable of making up for it.

"I'm Ron Weasley," the rude redhead muttered.

"Harry Potter," the black haired boy with the glasses said.

"Are you really?" said Hermione, her eyes flying open with both astonishment and excitement, "I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

Why, Hermione was in the presence of a Wizarding celebrity! She grinned. Grinning makes you look kinder; at least that's what her mom told her. Maybe he'd want to be her friend. You became friends with people you have a lot in common with after all: they were both rather exceptional after all and didn't look like much. Looking at Hermione you wouldn't be able to tell she was a child genius either. Though, this boy took that into the extreme. Hermione was pretty sure he was a bit skinnier than was healthy and his clothes were at least three sizes too big for him. He also wasn't very tall. If it weren't for the lightning bolt shaped scar she spied on his forehead, she wouldn't believe him. Frowning, she thought: 'Shouldn't the vanquisher of the Dark Lord be a little more impressive?'

He also looked a bit dazed, as if he wasn't sure what was happening around him. Then it clicked; after all the books had stated he had disappeared shortly after it was done.

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione dumfounded. Hermione desperately wanted to ask if he remembered anything, if his scar hurt sometimes, if ..., but that would be rude and she really couldn't afford to make him angry. In fact he already looked uncomfortable as it was. Bullocks! Being a celebrity, Harry Potter was sure to be popular and when popular people disliked you everyone disliked you. 'Alright, Hermione,' she thought nervously, 'just change the subject.'

"Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best, I hear Dumbledore himself was one, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad..."

He was still staring at her as if her hair had just simultaneously turned pink. Well, that wasn't working. 'Best to just remove yourself from the equation,' she decided.

"Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon.

Then she grabbed Neville by the wrist and dragged him along with her, out of the compartment. The toadless boy looked like he couldn't believe what had just happened. He had had a look of such ridiculous disbelieve on his face that Hermione had been two seconds away from snapping her fingers in front of his face, when he finally broke out in a grin and started gushing about The Boy Who Lived.

Really, Hermione didn't think the skinny boy she'd just met warranted the blind admiration Neville had for him. From what she gathered he'd only been a babe when he got the scar that had made him famous. Modern Magical History had clearly stated that he was only two years old when the dark wizard Voldemort attempted to kill him and disappeared. Thus it was much more likely that it was a preventive measure taken by either one of his parents, who had both died during the attack, or Dumbledore, who'd been hiding the family, that had actually saved him. Still, it was better that he didn't dislike her. That's why Hermione decided to let Neville continue his search for his toad alone and to go up to the driver herself. That way she could give the boy a much more accurate calculation of when they'd arrive.

She turned to tell Neville just that when – "Hey!" Hermione shrieked as she felt something collide with her throwing her to the ground. She landed flat on her butt. Angrily she blew the locks of hair that had fallen in front of her face away and clenched her fists, readying herself for the tirade of a lifetime, but then –

school.