The Courage of Hermione Granger

Hermione Granger sat at the outdoor table of Florean Fortescues's Ice Cream Parlor, idly nibbling on a chocolate covered raspberry cone as she watched people hurry by, intent on their errands. She was actually waiting for her two best friends, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasely, so they could go gather their books and supplies in preparation for their sixth year at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Hermione had not had a chance to see or talk to her friends all summer-- Harry had gone to the United States with his godfather, Sirius Black, and Ron once again spent the summer in Egypt visiting his older brother Bill, who was a curse breaker. Usually they would have kept in touch by owl post, but Harry's owl, Hedwig, was getting old and could not make the journey,and Ron's owl, Pig, was too tiny as well.

Hermione herself had been busy as well, working at the local Muggle library and just enjoying being sixteen. Despite being the smartest witch in her year and having two boys as best friends (or maybe because of it), she had only really become interested in the opposite sex within the last two years. Gone was the little girl more interested in burying her nose in a book than checking to see if she had a zit on the end of it. Her wavier than bushy brown hair was up in a pony tail, and subtle make up highlighted warm caramel eyes.

With her eyes finally opened to the opposite gender, Hermione had learned to appreciate a good-looking guy. Such as the tall, dark, and handsome wizardstrolling down the street towards her. Hermione arched a brow and pursed her lips in silent appreciation. About 6'2, with tousled black hair and that lazy, prowling saunter that marked him as a confident male in his prime. She could not see his features, as he was busy frowning at a piece of paper in his hands, but she could make out a pair of black glasses. Shock laced through her as she made the connection.

"Harry?" She gasped.

He looked up at the sound of his name, green eyes lighting up as he caught sight of her.

"Hermione! You're early!" He called, lengthening his stride and weaving over to where she was sitting.

She could only gap up at him, hardly able to believe her eyes. Gone was the awkward, slightly self-conscious boy dressed in oversized trousers and baggy jumpers she had met five years ago. Standing before her was a man dressed casually in Calvin Klein’s Wizard Wear khakis and a black t-shirt, which revealed nicely muscled, tanned arms. High on his left bicep was a tattoo of a hawk in flight. She noticed that it matched a smaller silver pendent on a thin necklace around his neck.

"Hermione...Her-mi-own-ninny. HERMIONE!"

Hermione jerked out of her thoughts to see Harry grinning down at her. She flushed, but ignored it.

"You...grew up." She managed finally.

This drew an outright chuckle from him, and he pulled out a chair, turning it around and draping his arms over the back in a comfortable manner.

"Grew nearly a foot." He said cheerfully. "I think I nearly caught up to Ron, and that's saying something."

"Nah, you're still a runt." Ron retorted from behind him. Hermione had not even noticed him walking up. "Hey, 'Mione."

Hermione swiveled around to crane her neck up at him.

"Jeeze. I don't hear from you guys for an entire summer, and all of a sudden you're all grown up." She muttered crossly. The boys exchanged a smug grin, until she added, "unfortunately, I don't think that extends to your brains."

Ron opened his mouth to retort, until Harry stood up and smoothly interrupted.

"Well! The school year has officially begun. Ron and Hermione are back to arguing. The world is right again."

Hermione and Ron swiveled to look at him. He rolled his eyes.

"Come on, you two, let's go." He walked off without waiting for them to reply.

Ron immediately tore off after him--"Oy! Harry! Wait up!" While Hermione followed more slowly. There was something about Harry she just could not put her finger on--something not quite in balance. Of course, for Harry, that could mean anything. After all, this was the Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. When he was barely a year old he defeated the Dark Lord, Voldemort, surviving only with a lightening-bolt shaped scar on his forehead. He did it again at eleven, twelve, thirteen, and fourteen, although that had also resulted in the death of a fellow student named Cedric Diggority. Last year had been a minor battle, but major in victory, resulting in the capture of Peter Pettigrew, the rat (literally) who had framed Sirius for the murder of Harry's parents.

Therefore, as Hermione very well knew, an unusual acting Harry was not a new occurrence. However, this Harry was...harder. More reserved, more honed in a way that made Hermione vaguely nervous. She shrugged it off, and hurried to catch up with her friends, quickly getting caught up in Ron's laughing tales of his summer.

*

For once, the journey from Platform 9 3/4 to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was traveled without incident. Harry, Hermione and Ron managed to secure their usual compartment, and spent the trip speculating about the new Defense Against the Dark Arts and new Care of Magical Creatures professors. Hogwarts had yet to find a DADA professor to last more than a year (four had been servants of Voldemort, andone was a werewolf), and Hagrid, the half giant who usually taught CoMC, was on a special errand for Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Not even their worse enemy, Draco Malfoy, bothered them. Of course, rumor around the train was that Draco was 'otherwise occupied' with Pansy Parkinson, which made Ron nearly snort a Chocolate Frog out his nose.

“Ewww! That’s disgusting! Malfoy and Pansy? That’s low, even for her.”

Night had fallen by the time the train pulled into the Hogwarts Station. Unlike previous years, many parents were too scared to send their children to Hogwarts, so there were no new first years to ride in the rickety boats. In fact, only fifth years and above were allowed to be there; the rest had been transferred to other schools in Europe and the Americas.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron took seats at the Gryffindor table, subdued, yet cheerfully returning greetings to their fellows as they waited for the feast to commence. Instead, Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, stood up and held up his hand for silence.

"Before we begin, I have a few announcements to make." He said somberly. "First of all, in light of recent events, the Ministry of Magic has decreed it necessary to... re-Sort thecurrent students to re-assure them of your loyalty and faith." He raised his hands as a shocked and insulted murmur ran through the Hall. "Please understand, this is just as much for your safety as it is for everyone else's. In this troublesome time of battle and discord, you may have hidden talents that come forth. Those in Hufflepuff may have the courage of Gryffindor. Those in Ravenclaw, the cunningness of a Slytherin, and vice versa."

Harry, Hermione, and Ron exchanged a look. Dumbledore did not give the students a chance to settle down before he nodded to Professor McGonagall.

One by one, the fifth years made their way up front, and put the tattered old Sorting Hat on their head. Most were re-Sorted back into their original Houses. A few, like Ginny Weasley, transferred into Ravenclaw from Gryffindor. Ginny actually seemed rather pleased about this, and quickly took a seat at her new table.

Finally, it was the sixth years' turn. Most of the students again were re-Sorted back into their original Houses such as Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini, making everyone relax slightly. After all, if the notorious Draco Malfoy was still a Slytherin snake, then the world was still turning on its axis.

"Ronald Weasley!"

Ron nervously crept up the stairs and sat gingerly on the stool as the heavy weight of the Hat settled on his red head. Nobody could hear what the hat was saying, although Ron’s face flushed as red as his hair as the hat finally bellowed, “Gryffindor!”. He stumbled back to his seat amid cheers from his House mates.

“Hermione Granger!”

Hermione made her way up to the stool. Harry and Ron could see her lips moving as if she were talking to herself, as she had the first time they were Sorted. She gingerly sat, as McGonagall placed the heavy weight of the Hat on her head.

“So,” a small voice said in her ear. “we meet again Miss Granger. I must say, you’ve come a long way. Gryffindor has done you good, and you have proved to have the courage and loyalty to do that House proud. However, cunning and ambition will also serve you well in the upcoming months. Do not disregard the help offered to you.”

And as Hermione sat, frowning at the cryptic advice, the Hat shouted: “SLYTHERIN!”

A hushed silence came over the hall. Hermione Granger, the smartest witch in the school, sorted into Slytherin? Was the hat crazy? Slytherin House was known for two things: turning out Dark wizards and witches (the most notable being Voldemort himself), and having a distinct prejudice against people of mixed parentage (at least one parent was of non magical lineage), as Hermione was. Draco Malfoy was especially biased against what was referred to as ‘Muggle-borns’, the slur of that being ‘Mudbloods’.

Professor McGonagall gently touched Hermione on the shoulder.

“Go sit with your House, dear.” She said quietly, the look in her eyes one of compassion and regret.

Hermione slowly made her way over to the Slytherin table, where the occupants were giving her the evil eye. Draco Malfoy caught her eye and arched a brow challengingly. She found herself lifting her chin and returning his glare before haughtily sitting down. Had she continued to hold his gaze, she would have seen the faint gleam of sardonic approval in his stormy grey eyes.

“Harry Potter!”

Harry warily made his way to the stool, aware of all the eyes upon him. If the Hat had placed Hermione in Slytherin, who knew what it was going to do with the Boy Who Lived?

This time the hat was silent for a long time. Harry had a dark frown on his face, as if he were mentally arguing with it. Finally, the verdict came:

“SLYTHERIN!”

Harry was not pleased at all; he glared at the hat and mumbled something under his breath before reluctantly striding to the table and plopping down next to Hermione. He ignored the stares and glares around him, and pointedly turned to the high table, where Dumbledore was residing. That ever familiar (and occasionally annoying) half-smile was on his face, and the light blue eyes twinkled as he raised his goblet to Harry in silent recognition. Harry humped and turned away, encountering Hermione’s worried expression. He managed a reassuring smile, absently playing with the hawk charm.

“Don’t look so worried, ‘Mione. We defeated a mountain troll when we were eleven—this can’t be much worse.”

Hermione managed a wan smile.

“True. And at least we’re together.”