The Transfer

Disclaimer: Still don't own any of this. If I did, I would at least have my license so I could go buy a fast car and drive it. Yeah, I'm talkin' to you JKR!

So I was thinking—I have 16 chapters already written. If I really did post once a week, it would be June before I had everything posted. By then, Deathly Hallows would almost be out, and no one is going to read this piddly little story with that on the horizon, right? So I decided to step it up a bit. Enjoy!

Ch3 Sorted out

Neville and I entered the compartment to find Ron sleeping against the window as Luna and Hermione read the Quibbler and Daily Prophet respectively.

“So, how was it?” asked Hermione as she folded the paper and placed it neatly on her lap.

“Uh, it was…” stuttered Neville.

“Interesting,” I finished for him. “Slughorn is quite a character.”

“How so?” she asked, looking out the door for Harry to arrive.

“I think everyone there had famous or powerful relatives of some kind. Well, except for Ginny.”

“Ginny was there?” said Ron incredulously, suddenly very much awake, “Why did she get invited and not me?”

I told him about Slughorn's interest in her hexing Zacharius Smith and kept my real theories on her invitation to myself.

“Oh, yeah she's always had a talent for that one,” said Ron, making me wonder if he had been on the receiving end of it a few times.

“So who all was there,” asked Hermione.

Neville and I went down the list, stopping for Ron or Hermione to comment on each.

“Oh his Uncle is in the Ministry.”

“Yeah, one of his relatives invented The Wolfsbane Potion.”

Then we got to Zabini.

“He's a git,” Ron said simply. Hermione didn't seem to need to add anything more to that appraisal.

“Git?” I asked. The word wasn't familiar.

“Right, well it's - uh…” Ron's face contorted into a mash of freckles and wrinkles as he tried to figure out how to describe the word.

“It's an insult,” offered Hermione.

Suddenly I heard the word in my head being sung by John Lennon.

“Oh wait, I have heard that word before. It's like that Beatle's song right?”

I sang the lyrics just as Lennon did on the song `I'm so tired'

And curse Sir Walter Raleigh
He was such a stupid git.

Neville, Luna and Ron stared at me like I had just grown a second head. Hermione beamed and nodded, “Yeah, that's it. It's like calling someone stupid or a jerk, I suppose.”

“Oh, ok,” was all I said back, but I couldn't help but feel that she and I had made a connection that no one else there shared. Whether Ron was her boyfriend or not, I liked the feeling.

“Why do you know so much about Muggles?” asked Ron.

“Do I?”

“Yeah, I mean, none of us know that -- Buggle's song,” he pointed to Neville and Luna, “Do we? Hermione would know it, but her parents are both Muggles, so that figures. Your Dad is in the Ministry though, so I know you have wizard parents.”

“Oh, your folks' are Non-Magical?” I asked Hermione.

“Yeah, Dentists” she said with a nod.

“Well that explains the nice smile,” I said quickly, and Hermione blushed. I regretted it the moment I had said it. I had just met her and already I was laying it on pretty thick. The way she was sitting there looking at me though, I couldn't help it. It just -- slipped out.

To my surprise, Ron didn't get mad. Instead he snorted back a laugh and said, “That smile has nothing to do with her parent's Muggle medicine mate, believe me.”

I looked at Hermione for an explanation, but she simply said, “Just ignore him.”

“I guess the reason I know so much Non-magic culture is because that is the only culture there is in America,” I said to Ron, “The States are a very different place than the U.K. It's probably because of how few wizards are there. I read somewhere that there are more wizards in Ireland than America. Well, schooled, practicing wizards, anyway.”

“How few? But America is like,” he held his arms out wide, “and Britain is like,” then closer together.

“True, but there isn't the infrastructure in the U.S. that there is here.”

“Infra-what-now?”

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. “Infrastructure Ron. There isn't the school system or government in America that there is here in England.”

“Exactly,” I agreed. The train began to slow and I realized that I was the only one still not in my robes so I stood up and rummaged through my bag for them.

“It's really the school system that is keeping things down,” I continued, “Families like yours and Luna's and Neville's would all be ok. Your parents would know where to take you for school because it's where they went to school, right?”

“Yup, my Mum and Dad both went to Hogwarts. Makes sense.”

“OK, but what about Hermione? What if the owl with her entry papers never came to her house?”

“What?” cried Ron, “They don't have owls in America?”

“No, they have owls, but they don't have the means to tell if a child is going to turn out magical or not, especially if they are born to Non-Magical parents. The spells and enchantments that recognized the abilities in Hermione aren't there. My parents are both wizards so they knew how to get in touch with the Principal of my school and how to enroll me.”

“So if Hermione was born American,” said Ron contemplatively, “then she wouldn't have gone to a Wizarding school?”

“Probably not.”

I looked at Hermione and thought maybe she was considering what her life would have been like if she hadn't become a witch. Before I could ask her anything about it though, Luna dropped her magazine and cried, “But that's horrible! You mean there are witches and wizards out there who aren't getting to go to school? How are they living like that?”

“They're living the way they have always lived,” I replied calmly, “as Non-Magic people.”

“But wouldn't their abilities cause them trouble?” she went on, “I mean, before I went to Hogwarts I was already causing things to break and loads of other magic things. Wouldn't their parents know there was something different about them?”

“Well Luna, with enough therapy and denial, you can repress a lot. The ability is still there, but the belief gets forced out of them.

“My school,” I continued, “is on an island off the coast of California. It's hidden by enchantments and wards to make it invisible to anyone looking for it who isn't magical, so there's no way a wizard or witch with Non-Magic parents could find it, even accidentally.”

Luna's dreamy expression had faded into a gloomy pallor. I looked at Neville and Ron and they didn't look much better. I suppose it probably was shocking to hear that there were wizards out there who would never know what they really were, or would ever know the life that they could have led. That knowledge was something we all took for granted sometimes.

The train stopped and everyone slowly rose to depart. It was dark outside and I couldn't make out what was waiting for us beyond the window. I stood up and ripped that paper wrapping off my robes, shaking out the folded creases and began to dress.

“Virgin robes, eh?” asked Ron, apparently trying to change the topic to something lighter.

“Well -- at least the robes are virgin,” I replied, chuckling quietly.

Luna didn't hear me as she had already pushed out to the passageway, but Neville's face had gone red and he seemed embarrassed by the fact that someone, somewhere, sometime had ever had sex. He quickly left to follow Luna.

Ron just laughed, probably thinking I was joking. Hermione's face also flushed, though she turned to avoid my gaze as I noticed.

“Sorry,” I offered.

“Don't apologize to me,” she said in an apathetic tone, “Apologize to the poor girl involved in the incident.”

Ron laughed harder still and the three of us made our way off the train.

The platform was lit by torches and lanterns that cast a dull light over the scene. I could see the village of Hogsmeade just off the platform and up on a hilltop in the distance, was Hogwarts castle. It looked like the pictures in Hogwarts, A History but I couldn't help but be impressed, finally seeing it in person.

I followed Hermione and Ron towards a line of carriages that looked ready to take us to the castle when Hermione said, “Has anyone found Harry yet?”

“No, but he was under his cloak right? Could be standing right here for all we know,” said Ron as he grasped at the air in front of him.

“Oh, I hope he's all right. We never should have let him go off on his own--,” worried Hermione.

I felt guilty since I was with him when he disappeared and made no real attempt to stop him. I had figured, he's Harry Potter, he knows what he's doing.

We were almost off the platform when I heard a booming voice calling out, “Firs Years! Firs Years this way please!” I looked down at the far end and saw a huge, hairy man swinging a lantern and calling out to the smaller students.

“Oh, I guess that's me. Isn't it?” I asked Hermione. I was reminded that it was, technically, my first year.

Ron gave me a laugh and said, “Hope you brought your swimsuit, Shipmate. You've got a boat ride ahead of you.”

“No, Ron, they can't expect him to go over on the boats,” said Hermione, though she sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as him.

“Sure he can. We both did our first year, right?”

“But I don't even think he'll fit in the boat,” said Hermione looking up at me.

“Nonsense! Hagrid fits just fine, remember? He's not anywhere near as big as Hagrid!”

“Oh, Hagrid!” she said, with sudden realization, “Come on Vinny, we'll go ask him. He'll know.”

She called back to Ron to go on without her and lead me back across the platform, her small hand gripping my wrist tightly.

The closer we got to the man with the lantern, the larger he became until I had to crane my neck to try and look him in the face.

“Hagrid!” yelled Hermione, launching herself at him with a fierce hug. As he patted her back she disappeared and reappeared behind his gigantic hand.

“Ello `Ermione! Good Summer, then?”

“Not bad, how about you?” she replied, smiling up at him.

“Oh, well as kin' be expected,” he said. “Got me Beaky friend back wi' me.”

“That's wonderful Hagrid. I'm happy for you!”

She looked back and seemed to remember that I was waiting behind her.

“Oh, sorry! Hagrid this is Vinny DiFranco,” my hand disappeared in his as he shook it, “He's a new student from America, and we were wondering if he could ride with us in the carriages or if he needed to go with you, since - it is technically his first year here.”

“Ah yeah! Mr. Dee-Franco, right. McGonagall told me `bout him,” he seemed to give me the once over which made me a little uncomfortable. I had never met anyone as big as him before.

“He can ride wi' you lot ter the castle but he needs ter wait with McGonagall outside the grea' hall fer sorting.”

“Great! Thanks Hagrid!” she said, giving him a waive and turning to head back to the waiting carriages, “See you at the feast!”

I turned to follow her but Hagrid caught me by the shoulder and said, “So, your fathers in the Ministry, is he? Had a bit o' trouble with the Ministry last year, sure ya heard. Will I be havin' ter keep an eye on you, Yank?”

He spun me around and bent down low to look me in the eyes. Surprisingly, for such a big guy, he had a kind face and warm eyes, not intimidating like the rest of him. Suddenly feeling an odd burst of courage I said, “I never believed what I read about Harry, if that's what you mean. He seems like a good guy, I met him on the train.”

“Met him on the train, eh?” he said, eyes searching mine, taking a measure of me.

“Well, least you seems to've fallen in wit' the right crowd,” he said, nodding towards Hermione as she waited just out of earshot. “Take me advice and stay close ter that one, brightest witch of her age, she is.”

I nodded to him, but in my head thought, Oh, I plan too.

I caught up with her and we walked back to the carriages as she told me that Professor Hagrid was the Care of Magical Creatures teacher. I told her that I didn't think I would have him as a teacher then. Magical Creatures wasn't a topic that my school in California offered.

As we closed in on the line of carriages, I noticed that the horses bridled before each of them weren't horses at all.

“Woa! Thestrals!” I cried.

Hermione smiled at my enthusiasm and said, “I was going to ask if you saw anything ahead of the carriages.”

“Can you see them?”

“No, “she replied, and I could tell that she wanted to know what they looked like. Not for any morbid reason, she might have been the most inquisitive person I had ever met. It was just her nature.

“I'll draw you a picture sometime,” I said with a grin. She smiled back and said, “Really? That would be nice.”

There was a moment of awkward silence and I knew she wanted to ask, so I saved her the trouble. “My Grandpa. I was about eight, I think. I barley remember it, so you don't have to feel sorry for me.”

“Oh, ok.” She said with mild relief.

“Hmm. Thestrals in America are lighter in color. Sandy brown or white. These ones are black and - scarier.”

“You'll have to draw me that picture, then. Now I am curious.”

As we went from carriage to carriage looking for Ron, she asked, “Wait, I thought you said they didn't teach any Magical Creatures classes at your school. How did you know about Thestrals?”

“Like I told Ron, it's a different place, Hermione. Instead of `Care of Magical Creatures', we learn `Don't Get Eaten by Magical Creatures'.” Her eyes went wide in astonishment and I continued, “There are wild herds of Thestrals and Sand Hydra - even Dementors out in the deserts and back hills of Southern California. My Mom and Dad have been taking me camping to Glamis and Ocotillo, places far away from towns and cities, since before I could walk.”

“Wow,” she said, “Wild Dementors? They don't obey any Ministry - well, Government instruction there?”

I chuckled and said, “From what I hear, they don't obey any Ministry instructions here either.”

“True,” she replied darkly.

I regretted saying it. The conversation ended on that note and her mood didn't brighten until we finally found seats with Ginny and two other Gryffindors; a tall black boy named Dean and a shorter, ruddy-faced Irishman named Seamus, who I liked right away.

As we rumbled off to the castle and Ginny introduced the two of them, I noticed she put her hand in Dean's as if to tell me that he was her boyfriend and any eyebrow waggling or other flirtations were off limits while in his presence. She didn't realize that with Hermione sitting next to me, I didn't feel the need to flirt with her anyway.

“So how are you getting on here in the U.K., Vin?” asked Seamus, speaking to me like he'd known me his whole life and putting me at ease.

“Not too shabby, Seamus,” I replied matter-of-factly, “I seem to have fallen in with a good crowd,” I bumped against Hermione next to me, “and I didn't have to row my way to Hogwarts with Hagrid, so things are going well so far. I'm concerned about the sorting though, I could still end up a big, bad Slytherin you know.” I raised my hands and wiggled my fingers menacingly at them as they all laughed.

“Not a chance. If Hermione's been with you since the train and you're still in one piece, there's no way your Slytherin!” said Seamus. “She'd of hexed you bollocks off after about ten minutes, eh Hermione?”

“Well the jewels are still intact, so I guess I passed that test,” I laughed.

“It's like I said Vinny, I am a pretty good judge of these things,” said Hermione as she narrowed her eyes and leaned in close to me whispering, “and despite the virgin robes, I think you'll end up in a good house.” I felt a pleasant heat wash over me and realized I was quite comfortable shoulder to shoulder with her in the back of the carriage.

The ride was surprisingly short, and before much else was said, we were disembarking, climbing the steps to the castle entrance and entering a large room past two huge oak doors. Just inside, a sunken-faced, disheveled looking man waited for us with a long, wand-like device that he poked and prodded at each student in turn.

“That's Filch, the groundskeeper. You'd be well off if you never saw him again after tonight, Vin,” said Seamus as he took his place in line.

I lined up behind Hermione and whispered to her, “Is this some kind of security measure? Reminds me of a metal detector at the airport.”

She whispered back, “I'm not sure, they never had us do this before this year.”

We waited our turn and Filch took his time with Hermione, I almost objected as he prodded her with the long, thin instrument. He seemed to be enjoying himself far too much.

When he got to me, my wand caused his detecting device to glow red and he looked down at a very small man at his feet for instruction on what to do next. Because of the crowd of students, I hadn't been able to see him until now, but he was obviously a dwarf of some kind, though, when I looked at him closer, I couldn't help but wonder if he might have been part goblin. He seemed to have some magical blood in him.

“What have you got there, Lad?” said Filch as he passed the detector over my sleeve again, watching it glow.

“That's my wand Sir,” I replied, reaching in and pulling it out.

The small man at my feet gasped and gestured for Filch to hand him my wand as he took it from me.

“Oh, I've heard of this before, but I never thought I would see it. Ebonyscale, isn't it?” said the dwarf.

He was referring to the Dragon whose heartstring and scales were used to make the wand.

“Yes Sir, “I replied, as he handed the wand back to me.

“Very well then, go on ahead, son,” he said and I was pushed by Filch to the main area of what seemed to be the entrance hall of Hogwarts castle.

The other students were all entering what I assumed was the great hall, but Hermione grabbed my wrist again and led me away, this time before an older witch with square framed glasses and a very serious look that was standing off to the side of the room.

“Professor McGonagall, this is—, “ began Hermione.

“Yes Miss Granger, I am quite aware of who he is and I thank you for escorting him this far. I think I can handle things from here,” she interrupted.

Hermione didn't argue or talk back to her; instead she turned to me and simply said, “See you at the Gryffindor table, Vinny.” Then she followed the other students into the hall, the door shutting behind her.

I watched her until the door shut and then turned back to the Professor, ready to tell her how happy I was to be here and how much I looked forward to being a student. It wasn't a lie to placate her either. I really was excited about being there. The look on her face changed my mind, however. She looked annoyed with me for having been born.

“So, uh, what subject do you teach, Professor?” I asked tentatively.

“Transfiguration,” she replied, her face unchanged and tone almost robotic. She didn't seem to like me very much. Hagrid had known that my father was in the Ministry. Maybe that was the problem.

I should try to butter her up a bit.

“I'm pretty sure I'll be in your class then. I was taking Transfiguration back at my old school,” I reached up my sleeve for my wand, “Here; I'll show you what I was tested on last year for my final.”

“I would appreciate it if you didn't perform any transfiguration until such time as you are in my classroom and I request it of you. Is that clear Mr. DiFranco?”

“Uh, yes Ma'am. Sorry Ma'am.” Well that went well, I thought as I tucked my wand away. Butter her up huh? Lucky I wasn't in detention before I was even sorted.

A herd of first years came tromping through the doorway, saving me from any further interaction with McGonagall. She told us all about the four houses of Hogwarts and that we would sit with whichever table that hat told us to go to. I nodded, like the rest of the little first years, and then we were marching through the doorway, into the great hall.

There were suddenly a thousand sets of eyes on me as I tried to stay next to McGonagall, ahead of the younger students so that maybe they would think I wasn't one of them. She led us to the front of the hall and turned around to face the crowd, all seated at four long tables, a house banner and a number of lighted candles floating over each one.

The Sorting Hat that I had read about was produced and placed upon its three-legged stool where it sang a song of unity between the houses and cooperation in these troubled times. Everyone cheered as it finished and McGonagall unrolled a scroll, calling Lauren Adamsen to be sorted first, followed by Robert Byron.

At least it's in alphabetical order, I thought to myself. I won't have to stand here for too much longer.

I had forgotten about my father's overenthusiastic job of filling out the enrollment forms and my head hung low when McGonagall said “Vincenzo Giovanni DiFranco.” She mumbled a soft “oh” after she said it, as though she wasn't expecting all those syllables and was surprised that she had managed to get her tongue around them all and had kept them in order.

I stepped up to the stool, hearing sniggers and murmurs from all four tables behind me. I couldn't blame them, I would have been laughing too if I was in their position. I must have looked pretty ridiculous standing there with all those little kids.

“You can just call me Vinny, Professor,” I said softly to McGonagall as I stepped next to her.

“Sit down, Mr. DiFranco,” she said in a tone that let me know she would be the one that decided what she was going to call me.

I turned and slumped down onto the stool, my face going red as I realized the seat was so low that I was practically squatting on it. I must have looked like a complete dumb-ass.

McGonagall mercifully placed the hat atop my head and I was struck by the fact that it actually fit me and that it was now whispering in my ear.

“Hmmm, interesting,” it said softly, “Haven't had a mind like this in a while, a long while actually. So much more experience than I usually see. I wonder where I would have put you five years ago, eh? Probably a different person now. Hmmm.” It was an unsettling feeling, knowing that your fate was in the hands of a talking headpiece, but it continued, “Well, there is a definite good streak here. Lot's of talent too. Impressive, in fact. Could use a bit more dedication maybe, but the mind looks good all around. One place for you then, off too, GRYFFINDOR!”

I felt myself exhale as the hat came off my head and I headed towards the Gryffindor table. Most of them were clapping and cheering loudly and down the table a ways, I saw Neville and Hermione standing. I sat down next to Neville, across from Hermione and Ron, feeling relief as the eyes in the room shifted to the hat's next victim.

“Brilliant!” whispered Neville, offering me his congratulations. “Never a doubt,” said Hermione. Even Ron's mouth turned in a slight smile as he shook my hand firmly.

The sorting seemed to go at light speed from there on until the hat and stool were retired and a man that I recognized as Albus Dumbledore stepped up to the podium at the center of what must have been the teacher's table to speak.

“Well, I do have some wise words to impart upon you, however, like the rest of you, I could eat a Horntail if it were on my plate, so it will have to wait. In the meantime,” he raised his hand and waved it over the tables, “Tuck in!”

Suddenly, there was more food than I had ever seen in my life on the table. Mountains of it. So much that it could have been breakfast and lunch the next day, as well.

Ron dove in and filled his plate with everything within reach. I started in myself, but noticed Hermione was fiddling with a piece of chicken and not eating.

“Worried about Harry?” I asked. I looked down the length of the table to make sure I hadn't missed him

“He hasn't had a very good record when it comes to being at the Welcoming Feast,' she said, “but he was on the train and no one has seen him since.”

“He didn't say where he was going when he slipped the cloak on, right Neville?” I asked.

“Nope,” he replied, mouth full of potatoes. He looked up at Hermione and Ron to add something but then looked past them and shouted, “Harry!”

We all turned and looked as Harry, still in his street clothes, entered the Great Hall with a man dressed all in black. The man had greasy hair that framed his face like the blonde haired boy I met hours ago. The hair was not the only similarity; they both had a certain air about them that made you want to look over your shoulder when you were in their presence.

He shoved Harry towards our table and then continued on to the teacher's table at the front of the room.

“Dude, what happened to your face?” I said as Harry squeezed in between Ron and Hermione across from me. He had a layer of dried blood caked to his mouth and one side of his jaw. He looked like he had the shit kicked out of him to be honest.

“Malfoy,” he said under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear as Hermione cleaned his face with her wand.

“Who's Malfoy?”

“Oh, just our resident Death Eater, right Harry?” said Ron casually.

“WHAT?” I bolted out of my seat, reaching in my sleeve for my wand.

“Sit down Vinny!” said Hermione in a loud whisper. “He's isn't really a Death Eater. Harry is just--,”

But she stopped speaking when she caught the look Harry was giving her. Apparently this was an ongoing debate that had still not been settled.

Harry, Ron and Hermione began whispering to each other just softly enough so that Neville and I couldn't make out what they were saying. Hermione appeared to be trying to glean some information from Harry but he kept insisting it could wait.

“Have any idea what they're talking about?” I asked Neville.

“Nope,” he replied, finally swallowing his potatoes, “I try to stay out of their affairs. Learned my lesson after first year when Hermione Petrificus Totalus'd me.”

“Oh.”

The three of them kept on until the meal was over and Dumbledore stood up to speak again.

“The very best of evenings to you!” he said, stretching his arms wide to get everyone's attention.

“His hand!” gasped Hermione.

His right hand looked black and shriveled, like it had been overcooked in an oven.

Dumbledore quickly shrugged his robes over the hand and said, “Nothing to worry about, now. “ He started a speech that I assumed he gave every year at the beginning of term. He talked about the year of education ahead of us and how anyone who wanted to tryout for Quidditch, should speak to his or her head of house. All the while, Ron, Harry and Hermione continued to whisper to each other, just out of my range of hearing.

When he introduced Professor Slughorn as the new Potions teacher, however, they stopped and took notice.

“Potions?” said Harry, incredulously.

“But you said—,” Hermione began to ask.

“Professor Snape then,” continued Dumbledore, apparently oblivious to the chattering of all the students in the room at the news, “will take over as teacher of Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“NO!” yelled Harry. He wasn't the only one who seemed to disapprove, but he was the only one who had given voice to his fears.

I looked up at Snape, the man in black who had escorted Harry into the Great Hall. I could tell who he was by the expression of smugness on his face. He was supremely satisfied that Harry found this new piece of information so unacceptable.

“Is Snape as bad as Harry seems to think he is?” I nudged Neville.

“Worse”, came his ominous response.

Dumbledore settled everyone again and began speaking about the new security measures placed around the castle. How, even though it was one of the safest places anywhere, we should still obey all rules and make sure we did not go wandering at night.

Ron, Harry and Hermione continued to whisper on the other side of the table. I have to admit, I was getting jealous. Partly because I really wanted to know what they were talking about, but also because I wanted to have my face that close to Hermione's hair...

“But now your beds await you. Warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish. I know it is your top priority to be well rested for tomorrow lessons so, Pip Pip!” Dumbledore finished.

With that, every bench at every table in the hall scraped the floor as the students rose as one. It was deafening. If you took all the benches and put them end-to-end, they would have been a quarter mile long, I bet.

Ron and Harry loitered at the table, but I got up and followed Hermione out to the entrance hall as she rounded up a group of smaller students and lead them, very motherly in her tone, towards a staircase.

“Oh, Vinny! Good you're here too. I mean, “she looked suddenly nervous at what she was to say next, “you are technically a first year, at least when it comes to getting around the castle.”

“Yes Miss Granger!” I squeaked in a prepubescent voice.

She laughed and led the group up a series of staircases and passageways, past talking paintings and gliding, shimmering ghosts, all the while giving out useful information and careful warnings. I couldn't help but notice that the speech sounded practiced and somehow familiar. Like she was quoting directly from a safety pamphlet I might have once read - or maybe even from Hogwarts, A History.

We reached the seventh floor and Hermione led us all to a large portrait of a plump woman in a gaudy pink gown.

“This is the entrance to the Gryffindor common room,” she said to the first years. “To get in, you have to give the fat lady the password or she won't open up. Now, when you hear me say the password, make sure you remember it!”

I looked down at the faces of the students as she spoke to them and couldn't help but feel a little piteous. They all tried hard to pay attention to her words, but it had been a long day and they had seen so much in the last few hours. I was pretty sure Hermione would be finding quite a few of them stranded outside the common room trying to bargain their way in after forgetting the password.

“Defigo,” she said. The woman in the painting bowed politely and the picture swung out on a hinge revealing a hatch-like passage. The first years piled through as Hermione and I waited behind them.

“So the common room is where we spend most of our time when we aren't in class, right?” I asked.

“Yes, it's the educational, as well as social center of the House of Gryffindor. You'll find that - what?”

I had raised an eyebrow at her as she responded to my question. Educational and social center? Where was she hiding the cue card she wrote that on?

“Why don't you just say it's where everyone hangs out?” I offered.

She colored slightly and ducked through the portal saying, ”Sorry, I guess I got carried away with the whole `Prefect Thing'. I've been looking forward to leading the first years to the common room since I found out I was made Prefect last year.” She put her hand to her forehead, “Merlin! You must think I am some kind of Mother Hen, don't you?”

I laughed as I followed her into the common room and said, “Maybe a little.”

I stepped next to her and fought the urge to put my arm around her, actually raising my arm up behind her back but then dropping it back down. “God knows I would never have found my way up here without your expert mothering, Mrs. Hen.”

I looked around the room, taking it all in as Hermione chuckled, “Yeah, yeah,” and elbowed me gently in the stomach. It was well worn but somehow, not run down. Comfortable looking chairs and couches of all kinds where placed at random intervals around the room's perimeter. A warm, inviting fire crackled in the large fireplace that dominated half of the space while a pair of staircases adorned the opposite wall.

“Wow, it feels - homey,” I said after a moment. “Like, I have been here before somehow. Does that make sense?”

“Actually, yes,” said Hermione looking up at me so I could see the fire reflected in her eyes. “The sorting hat is never wrong. You should feel at home in your own common room.”

As I looked down at her, I started to suspect that it was the company more than the décor that was causing this comfortable feeling, but before I could say anything to that effect, she turned to the first years and continued with the tour.

“Everyone, if I can have your attention again please!” she said over the oohs and aahs, “The staircases lead to the dorm rooms and your beds where your trunks have been brought. I would suggest you follow Professor Dumbledore's advice and get a good nights rest so you can be ready for tomorrow's lessons. Are there any questions?”

I watched as the heads all turned back and forth, like they were watching a tennis match in fast forward with vacant, tired eyes.

“Then girls to your left, boys to your right. You'll know you've found your bed when you've found your trunk! Have a good night, and if you need anything, ask a Prefect!”

As they trudged up the stairs I said to Hermione, “Hope they don't find Ron if they need help with anything. Something tells me he wouldn't be very helpful.”

“Probably not,” she said with a smirk. “He isn't really a bad person, he just doesn't take the job as seriously as I do. If someone really needed help, I'm sure he would help them.”

“Yeah,” was all I replied. I was hoping to maybe get a feel for her relationship with Ron, but her answer was as ambiguous as her behavior towards him.

“Well, I have some quick notes to organize for tomorrow,” she said, heading towards the girl's staircase. “You might want to find your bed and get some sleep. Harry and Ron will probably tell you that we will have an easy day tomorrow, but don't believe it. Sixth year is going to be very full.”

I wondered what notes she could possibly have to organize the night before her first day of school and for a moment even thought she might be ditching me, but she looked back at me as she reached the stairs and her expression seemed to say that we would have plenty of time to get to know one another. Regardless of how full she had just said the year would be.

“OK Hermione,” Uh… sweet dreams? Sleep tight? “See you tomorrow,” I decided before the moment became awkward.

“'Night,” she replied, and disappeared up the stairs.

AN- Come on back next time for a Serenade!