Tom and Slughorn, positioned at the entrance of Hogwarts, watched eagerly as a figure glided over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest in the distance. Drawing closer, a dark blue horse-drawn carriage emerged, lifted skyward by six winged horses.
"Here she comes," Slughorn exclaimed with palpable excitement. Meanwhile, Tom remained silent, standing stoically behind Slughorn. At the tower, Avery, Lestrange, Rosier, Mulciber, Nott, and Archon observed the scene with keen interest.
The carriage descended gracefully to the ground, prompting Slughorn to eagerly open the door and extend his hand to assist the newcomer.
With wavy brown hair, brown eyes, and an unassuming appearance, Hermione stepped down from the carriage, her presence immediately capturing Tom's attention from behind Slughorn. As she alighted, a sense of nostalgia and déjà vu washed over Hermione, enveloping her in a wave of familiarity.
"Thank you, sir," Hermione expressed her gratitude with a polite smile.
"My pleasure, dear. Welcome to Hogwarts. I'm Professor Horace Eugene Flaccus Slughorn, a Potions Master," Slughorn introduced himself warmly.
"It's nice to meet you, sir," Hermione replied, returning the greeting before noticing Tom standing behind Slughorn. Tom offered her a smile, which Slughorn took note of.
"And this is Tom, my boy. He's a prefect and a fellow student in Slytherin. He'll be your guide for today, and if you need anything, you can ask him," Slughorn said, gesturing towards Tom.
Tom approached them, extending his hand for a handshake. "Tom Riddle, Ms. Picquery," he introduced himself.
"It's nice to meet you, Riddle," Hermione accepted his hand, pleasantly surprised by his courteous demeanor. Tom had expected Hermione to be a spoiled brat, but he was taken aback by her decency. As they shook hands, he noticed her smooth, warm hands and found himself pleasantly impressed.
Hermione reciprocated the handshake with a genuine smile, glad to make Tom's acquaintance.
*****
Inside the Headmaster's office, Hermione stood in awe, taking in the grandeur of the room. The shelves were lined with ancient tomes, portraits of former headmasters adorned the walls, and a warm fire crackled in the fireplace. Headmaster Dippet, a kind-looking man with a gentle smile, welcomed Hermione warmly.
"Welcome, Miss Picquery," Headmaster Dippet greeted Hermione, his voice carrying a sense of wisdom and authority. "I am Professor Armando Dippet, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It's a pleasure to have you here."
Hermione returned the greeting with a respectful nod, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. "Thank you, Headmaster Dippet. I'm honored to be here," she replied, her voice tinged with enthusiasm.
Headmaster Dippet gestured towards the comfortable chairs in front of his desk, inviting Hermione to take a seat. "Please, have a seat. I'm sure you have many questions about Hogwarts, and I'm here to answer them to the best of my ability."
As Hermione settled into the chair, she couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at being in the presence of the esteemed Headmaster. This was the beginning of her magical journey at Hogwarts, and she was eager to learn everything she could about the school and its rich history.
Tom stood silently behind her, his mind buzzing with anticipation. He couldn't help but wonder which house Hermione would be sorted into, secretly hoping she would join him in Slytherin House.
Suddenly, a knock echoed through the room, drawing their attention. Professor Dumbledore entered, his presence commanding the room with an aura of wisdom and kindness. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she beheld the legendary wizard before her.
Headmaster Dippet began to introduce Professor Dumbledore, but Hermione couldn't contain her excitement. "Albus Dumbledore!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with admiration. "I've read so much about you. It's an honor to meet you, sir."
Professor Dumbledore smiled warmly at Hermione's enthusiastic greeting. "The pleasure is mine, Miss Picquery," he replied, his eyes twinkling with warmth. "I've heard great things about you as well. Hogwarts is fortunate to welcome such a bright and promising student."
In the Headmaster's office, Headmaster Dippet gestured towards the table where the Sorting Hat sat, its old and weathered appearance giving it an air of ancient wisdom. "Well then, let's sort you, Miss Picquery," he said with a gentle smile.
Hermione approached the table, her heart racing with anticipation. She glanced up at the Sorting Hat, its frayed edges and dusty exterior giving it a sense of mystery. As she reached out to touch it, the hat suddenly sprang to life, its tear opening like a mouth as it began to sing in a small, quiet voice.
"Miss Picquery, this is our Sorting Hat," Headmaster Dumbledore introduced, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched Hermione's reaction to the hat's lively performance.
Hermione listened intently as the Sorting Hat sang, its ancient melodies echoing through the room. She couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the magical artifact before her, knowing that its decision would determine her fate at Hogwarts.
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your black,
You're sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old,
if you have a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folks use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"
"What a beautiful song," Hermione declared, her eyes still filled with wonder from the Sorting Hat's melody.
"Now, let's sort you into your house," Dumbledore said, gently placing the Sorting Hat on Hermione's head.
As the hat settled onto her head, Hermione felt a sense of anticipation wash over her. She closed her eyes, waiting to hear the decision.
"Let's see in which house you will be," the Sorting Hat's voice echoed in her mind.
Hermione listened intently as the Sorting Hat began to speak, its words filling the room with a sense of mystery.
"Strange and fascinating, I can see chivalry and bravery like a Gryffindor has, loyalty and fairness like Hufflepuffs, a sharp mind and wisdom like Ravenclaw, and lastly, you could be cunning but in a good way. You have power yet no thirst, such a rare child. Perhaps you choose your house."
For the first time, Dumbledore, Headmaster Dippet, and Tom were surprised by the Sorting Hat's words. The hat's insight into her character left them all speechless, realizing the complexity of Hermione's nature and the unique qualities that made her who she was.
"Well, that's the first one in my entire life. You're a very special witch, then," Professor Dippet stated, marveling at the unprecedented event they had just witnessed—the Sorting Hat allowing a student to choose their own house.
Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling with fascination, observed the scene with keen interest, while Tom remained deep in thought, contemplating what house Hermione would choose.
"I choose Gryffindor, then," Hermione declared. There was a sense of certainty in her voice as if some unseen force was guiding her decision toward that particular house.
"I was hoping you would choose Slytherin, but I guess Gryffindor will do just fine," Slughorn stated, a hint of disappointment evident in his voice. Tom, though also disappointed, kept his emotions well hidden. Meanwhile, Dumbledore couldn't contain his joy at Hermione's choice, a bright smile gracing his face as he applauded her decision.
Word quickly spread throughout the school as news of the famous only child of Seraphina Picquery entering Hogwarts reached every ear. Some students were in awe, while others couldn't help but feel a sense of insecurity.
Upon entering her room in Gryffindor Tower, Hermione wasted no time in settling down. It was the middle of her sixth year at Hogwarts, and most of the rooms in Gryffindor were already occupied. She had managed to secure a room at the far end of Gryffindor, where she could enjoy some solitude—a luxury she greatly appreciated.
"Lucky, have you finished arranging all my things?" Hermione inquired, her gaze fixed on the ceiling.
"Yes, Mistress Hermione. Lucky has arranged all Mistress's belongings," the house-elf replied dutifully.
"And what about your things, Lucky?" Hermione asked, showing concern for her loyal companion.
"Lucky has already sorted Lucky's belongings in Lucky's case," the house-elf assured her. While the case might seem small to some, it housed a whole other world—a workshop for Hermione and a resting place for Lucky.
"Very well, then. Rest now, Lucky. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow," Hermione said before drifting off to sleep.
*****
Meanwhile, in the Slytherin common room, Tom sat with his gang, gathered around the fireplace. Most of the other students were already asleep, but they remained awake, deep in conversation.
"I don't think Picquery will align with us," Avery remarked.
"Why not?" Lestrange questioned.
"Picquery grew up in the Muggle world, so she may have a soft spot for them," Archon explained.
Tom sat silently on the sofa, the green fire from the fireplace casting an eerie glow across the room.
"A blood traitor, I see. But didn't you mention your family's desire for you to marry her?" Archon pointed out.
"Yes, but Seraphina Picquery declined," Tom confirmed.
"Well, why don't you make her fall for you? After all, your family holds her in high regard," Tom suggested. It was a promising idea, but the challenge lay in execution.
"Making Picquery fall for you? And how exactly do you plan to do that, Tom? She's in Gryffindor, while we're here in Slytherin," Rosier interjected.
"I'm sure Archon here is already plotting his moves on Picquery, isn't that right, Archon?" Tom said, turning to his friend. Archon's expression grew serious as he nodded in response. "Of course," he affirmed.
*****
On the train, Hermione stood amidst the hustle and bustle, her mind wandering as she observed her fellow passengers. Suddenly, her attention was drawn to a little girl standing in front of her, her face obscured from view.
As the little girl moved on to enter one of the train compartments, Hermione followed curiously. Inside, she found two boys—one with a distinctive lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, and the other with fiery red hair, attempting to perform magic.
"Have you seen a toad? A boy named Neville lost it," the little girl inquired.
"We already told him we haven't," the boys replied.
Intrigued, the little girl settled beside the red-haired boy, eagerly awaiting his magic performance.
"Are you making magic? Well, let's see it then," she urged.
The red-haired boy hesitated before attempting a spell.
"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid rat's tail yellow," he incanted, pointing his wand at a nearby rat. To their disappointment, nothing happened. The little girl, however, seemed unperturbed.
"Are you sure that's the right spell?" she questioned.
"Of course it is," the red-haired boy insisted, his confidence wavering.
Hermione found herself slowly awakening from the dream, the sound of rain pattering against the window. The dream felt oddly familiar, and she couldn't shake the feeling of déjà vu.
"Strange," she muttered, sitting up in bed and reaching for her briefcase. Opening it, she entered into another dimension—her own private sanctuary filled with books, magical herbs, and potions. Within moments, she had refreshed herself in her personal bathroom, ready to face the day ahead.
The clock struck six in the morning, signaling the dawn of another day at Hogwarts. With the class not scheduled to commence until 7:30, Hermione found herself with a precious hour and a half to explore the school's corridors.
As she traversed the Gryffindor common area, Hermione noted the peaceful slumber of her fellow students, the calm before the storm of the day's activities. Quickly gathering her belongings, she made her way to the Great Hall for breakfast, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filling the air.
Lost in thought, Hermione wandered through the hallways, each corner evoking a sense of nostalgia that tugged at her heartstrings. Since childhood, she had harbored a burning desire to attend Hogwarts, a dream her mother had steadfastly denied her.
Lost in her reverie, Hermione failed to notice an obstacle in her path, tripping and falling to the ground with an audible thud. Before she could fully comprehend what had happened, she found herself face-to-face with the boy she had encountered the previous day.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry," she apologized, hastily picking herself up. It was then that she remembered his name—Riddle. He was the boy she had met yesterday.
"No, it's my fault. I was rushing through the halls and didn't watch where I was going," the boy with striking blue-green eyes confessed.
"Is everything alright, Mr. Riddle?" Hermione inquired, noticing the intensity of his gaze.
"Err, yes, nothing to worry about. I was just...captivated by your eyes, Ms. Picquery," Tom replied, though Hermione detected a hint of insincerity in his words.
"Flattery won't get you far, but you can call me Hermione. I prefer that over Picquery," she asserted, her tone firm yet friendly.
"Only if you call me Tom, then," he countered, a mischievous glint in his eye.
"Fair enough, Tom," Hermione agreed, offering him a warm smile before continuing on her way.