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Torn by kiwibee
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Torn

kiwibee

-AN- Thanks for checking out my story. It's my first story here and I'm so excited to share my stories. I've gotten a lot of mixed opinions about how I went about with this story, so hope you like it. Thanks again and review! :) -

Ok, so my life's not perfect. But it was. Oh believe me; it was. It started with a letter.

Dear Ms. Granger,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry . . .

It all took off from there. My parents were dentists, muggle dentists, so it took a lot of explaining and convincing on Professor Dumbledore's part. I always knew wizards and witches existed, I read about it in a very old, very classified book I once stumbled across. I had no idea that I myself was a witch.

My parents allowed me to go. I spent the rest of the summer reading my school books. They were fascinating; I always had a love for books. I read about spells, magical cities, my school . . . and then I read a book about famous people. That's where I first heard his name. Harry Potter. There were photographs of a baby, bright emerald eyes and a thin scar on his forehead. This was the boy that vanquished the Dark Lord, this little baby? No, there was another picture. The same bright green eyes, the same scar . . . only he was my age. My age? I thought long about him. I hoped he would be going to Hogwarts. If only I knew then. If only I knew.

September first. The day everything started, everything became so different. I went to King's Cross with my mother. I had read how to get onto the correct platform, so I said goodbye to my mother and walked into the barrier between platforms nine and ten. I heard my mother gasp behind me. I turned around and waved goodbye.

The train was beautiful, red and powerful looking. There were students all around me, showing off spells they had learned and chatting animatedly with each other. That's one thing I never was good at. Making friends. Come to think of it, I never really had any friends in primary school. I attended a small private school with snobby little girls who had rich parents. I didn't like them. They didn't like me either; I was too keen on reading and expanding my knowledge.

I walked aboard the train. I remember all of this as if it were yesterday, not the ten years it has been. The train was chaos, kids running everywhere. Some older students had taken charge and kept yelling. A boy my age came up to me and asked me to sit with him.

"I'm Neville Longbottom, this is my first year," he said proudly, yet timidly.

"Hermione Granger, and it's my first year also," I responded, not wanting to go with him but feeling obliged to. We settled into a compartment with two other people.

"Hi! I'm Lavender," said a tall girl, standing as we walked into the room.

"Seamus, and you are?" a short boy said from the far corner.

"Hermione," I replied. 'Why are all these people talking to me' I remember wondering. No one had ever talked to me at school. How quickly all that changed. How quickly my life had changed.

I left the compartment after lunch, with the excuse that I would go look for Neville's missing toad. I just wanted to get away. What a horrible mistake. If I knew now . . . if I knew the trouble that would come out of leaving . . .

I walked into an open compartment at the very end of the train. Two boys were sitting in there.

"Have you seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one," I said, trying not to sound as shy as I was. I was glad I hadn't said anymore, I nearly choked when I saw whom I walked in on.

I felt my entire body tense.

I remember saying, "Hermione Granger, and you are?"

"Ron Weasley," stated Ronald, a small boy back then.

"Harry Potter," Harry nervously said. He looked at me as my eyes flicked up to his scar. Our eyes met briefly. That's when I knew. I knew that I could spend forever gazing into those emerald pools.

I don't really remember everything I said. I know I sounded stupid. I began telling Harry all the books he was in and how I memorized all of it. He looked even more nervous now. If only . . . only I had known . . .