Orientation

By the time Hermione had lined up with the other first years outside the Great Hall, she was overwhelmed by all the magnificence and completely surrounded by nervous wrecks. She stood next to Neville, alarmed at just how anxious a boy could actually get. Even that obnoxious Malfoy boy...oh, yes. She had recognized him right away, with his white-blonde hair and his supercilious manner. He reminded her of all the worst affectations of her grandmother when he'd made such a point of insulting Ronald Weasley, calling him out in front of everyone because his family's fortune apparently had dipped a bit. How uncouth. The boy simply had no concept of good breeding.

And yet, here he was with the rest of them, worried just as much as Weasley, that he might not be accepted into the house of his forefathers.

Hermione really had no such fear. She had read as much as she could about the Houses in the carriage, and Ronald and Neville were very helpful in sharing their own knowledge as well. Both Neville and Ronald prayed for Gryffindor. Harry had made a comment about hoping for Gryffindor as well, and Hermione agreed it might be nice if they ended up in the same House as their new acquaintances.

She thought about what was important to her. Her mother had always put a high value on bravery. That would mean Gryffindor. Both of her parents felt that knowledge was the only means of transforming the human condition. So that was a plus for Ravenclaw. She did admit to a desire to be in Slytherin, despite the opinions tossed about during the carriage ride, and despite the odious Malfoy boy, only because she wished to remain close to Professor Snape and also to show him a bit of the loyalty she felt she owed him. Which most likely meant Hufflepuff.

Professor McGonagall, a frighteningly severe woman, who was also introduced as the Deputy Headmistress, managed to kick her small and reasonable anxiety over the fence into the field marked 'terror,' simply by leading her to understand that the Sorting Hat was their first test. A test. She'd never had a real test before. Her mother had quizzed her; her father had often tossed questions at her. Rebecca had tutored her studies for three years, but had never actually tested her knowledge. People failed tests.

What if she was somehow chosen for the wrong House? What if the hat couldn't decide and they sent her home? What if they took it into their heads that she wasn't really a witch, just a Muggle with one or two aberrant episodes of the inexplicable? What if she didn't actually belong here?

Hermione's stomach lurched along with the door to the Great Hall, and before she had a chance to get her bearings, she was swept along with the tide and dragged before the head table. Her first sight of Headmaster Dumbledore left her not knowing what to think. He appeared both kind and wise, as well as slightly deranged at the same time. She slid her eyes along the head table and was overwhelmed by the sheer number of intimidating personages she would have to try and impress in order to not be packed back off to London. When she finally saw Professor Snape, she nearly sagged with relief. She tried to catch his eye, but he was talking to an odd-looking fellow wearing a turban next to him. She contented herself with quietly reciting everything she knew about the Sorting Hat while listening to the strange bit of doggerel it was spouting.

Hermione knew she was babbling to herself by the time they called her name. She gave a frightened squeak but then lifted her chin and sucked in a deep breath. She wasn't aware of how many steps it took to get to the stool, and she couldn't remember what the hat had said to her, only that the smell of it was less than pleasant, and her desire not to get lice was strong. The clearest memory was the shout of 'Gryffindor!' and the look of momentary disappointment on the face of Professor Snape before he politely applauded along with the rest of the staff.

Hermione stumbled in the direction she was pointed and found herself seated at an enormous table, surrounded by happy faces. She let out a breath and smiled.

She turned her head back towards her Professor, but found him, as seemed to be his new habit, staring hard at Harry Potter.

Hermione sat at a table in the library and fiddled with the satchel of books in her lap. Her roommates, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil entered and Hermione straightened up in her seat and smiled at them hopefully. They returned strained smiles and then giggled, as they hurried off into another part of the library. Hermione sagged back down.

Her roommates were thick as thieves, and as thick as bricks. Lavender was plainly dim-witted, and Parvati was too vain. She and her twin sister Padma were two of seven spoiled daughters of an Indian Nawab who had the wealth and influence to send his twin daughters here for their education. Lavender bought into the lavish exoticism of it all, and her two roommates started a mutual adoration society that frequently made Hermione gag behind the curtains of her bed.

It was a sign of how lonely she'd become that she was actually trying to court their amiability. She had sunk rather far in her despair.

The door opened again, and she saw Harry and Ron. Harry waved to her politely, but Ron only rolled his eyes when he saw her as the two of them headed to the desk to return some books.

She looked down at her scrolls and sighed. The phrase, 'be careful of what you wish for,' echoed in her head. She hated Hogwarts. Most especially for being the answer to her prayers.

Hogwarts was wonderful, an amazingly progressive school that in no way changed the girls' curriculum from the boys'. It offered the same opportunities to both sexes and graded in the same manner. They even allowed boys and girls to eat together, study together, and even relax together in the common room after classes and on the weekends. She'd been exposed to so many new thoughts, ideas, people, creatures, and cultures it made her dizzy with happiness. The only improvement Hermione would venture to make was to allow boys and girls into the same classes and let them compete academically, the way they were allowed to compete athletically. Instead, they had two classes for each year, one for boys, and one for girls. That made no sense to her, and apparently, little to Professor McGonagall, who hinted at changes in the near future.

No, the problem wasn't the education she was receiving, by any means. It was her outsider status. Magic was wonderful, of that she had no doubts, but she was still just as alone as if she were home, without the benefit of her mother or father or even old Mrs. Crabtree and Cook to be amiable with.

It wasn't just that she was Muggle-born, either. Other Muggle-born students in the school seemed to have made good friends. It was patently obvious that no one liked her except Neville Longbottom, and he liked everybody but Professor Snape.

Harry was a decent sort, a bit excitable, but hard not to like, with his unprepossessing manner. His only problem was that he was fast friends with Ronald. Ronald was an idiot. That much was plain to see to anyone. Sure he could be agreeable when he made an effort, but his study habits were a disgrace, his eating habits were worse, and he had rebuked her for each and every effort she had put into trying to show him the error of his ways. If he wanted to flunk out and be sent home, then on his head so be it.

She wondered again how she could turn her fortune around. It was clear to everyone that the hat had sorted her wrongly. No one in Gryffindor appreciated her work habits. She should have been in Ravenclaw. Then perhaps, Professor Snape wouldn't be so hard on her.

That man was an utter mystery and another source of despair.

It was increasingly noticeable to even the thickest wit that Professor Snape loathed Harry. The why was unknown, but his bias and dislike were plain. The man might have assured her that 'hating' an eleven year old was beneath his dignity, but from the stories she'd heard of the boys' Potions class, and the nasty glares she'd seen Snape deliver during meals, he was fooling no one but himself. The boys' class seemed to spawn endless stories of some persecution or another, and anyone who tried to defend him drew Professor Snape's wrath as well.

Even in the girls' Potions class, you could see that the professor's ire was spreading to the entire House of Gryffindor. Even she was not spared, and it broke her heart. She didn't mind his constant repetition of 'foolish little girl,' or even the occasional, 'insufferable know-it-all,' he had called her such from when they had first met; it was just his way. It was her grades. Try as she might, she couldn't seem to get the same grades in Potions as she did in her other classes. She would cram as many facts into her essays as possible in the most concise manner feasible, and yet his comments ripped her efforts apart each and every time.

She worried that he did hate her, that he'd looked into her eyes and lied about not hating her. Technically, the bad grades hadn't really started until she'd turned twelve, but that was splitting desperate hairs.

She sighed. She really didn't want to be lied to anymore. She had really wanted him to be a hero. She'd needed one ever so much, and he'd appeared with a flash in answer to her prayers. Now he treated her like some sort of soft wit.

She stuffed her books and scrolls back into her satchel. Perhaps she could go find Neville in the Great Hall and ask if they could work on their essays together after dinner. Hopefully he wasn't caught up in the silliness of the Halloween feast along with the others.

She gathered up her things and headed toward the door, ending up just behind Ron and Harry.

"Nah, mate. I just think she's a nutter. I mean, did you hear her at lunch? Correcting my pronunciation? 'Win-GAR-dium Levee-OH-sa.' Someone should tell her to wait until a wizard asks for help before pushing her bossy nose into someone else's business. I mean, who would even want her help to begin with? She's too strange."

Hermione's heart twisted painfully in her chest, and she knew she wasn't going to be able to stop the tears. She had to get out of there right away. She shoved her way past Harry and bolted through the library doors.

She wandered, struggling to keep herself together, until she found an empty bathroom and ducked inside. Once out of sight, she scurried into one of the privy stalls, closed the lid, sat down on the commode, and burst into tears.

She wanted to go home. If she wrote to her parents, they would pull her out of the school right away. It would definitely be her last chance at any kind of formal education, but then, after this sort of educational environment, it was highly unlikely that she would be content to study music, deportment, painting, sewing and globes. Not once she'd managed to make feathers fly, or seen a cat turn into her teacher.

She hugged her satchel close and sobbed. It was no use. There was no giving this up. She couldn't pretend she hadn't seen it. She couldn't go the rest of her life not wanting to be as good as those born in it were. She would have to stay, and staying would slowly eat at her soul.

She pressed her head against her knees and blubbered for what seemed like hours.

Eventually, she heard the creak of the door, and she pulled herself together with a mighty sniff. When the commode automatically flushed behind her, she marveled, distractedly, at the miracle that was Wizarding plumbing. There wasn't a chamber pot in the whole castle. Even in the midst of her hopes turning to ashes, magic was still magical.

She slung her satchel of books onto her back by the wide leather strap and pushed out of the stall. She walked over to the basin and smiled weakly as it filled with water. She washed her hands, splashed at her face, dried them with a quick spell, and then shrieked like the door to hell had just opened behind her.

She threw herself to the side just as a club the size of a tree trunk smashed down and destroyed the wet sink. Even as she scrambled and screamed, her mind raced through everything she had read about magical beasts and quickly spat out the needed information.

Troll.

She was trapped in the girls' privy chamber with a troll. A mountain troll, unless she was mistaken. She screamed blue-bloody-murder as she scrambled under the partitions dividing one stall from the next, only to be showered with more bits of porcelain as the stupid beast continually smashed too late.

The door flew open again, and she heard shouts. She shrieked again and bolted for the door, only to be nearly crushed by an uncharacteristically well-timed blow. She dodged to the side and flew into the corner.

Harry and Ron threw themselves into the fray throwing bits of debris and chunks of porcelain. At one point, Harry ended up on the beast's back, while Ron shouted encouragement and advice. Harry ended up dangling upside down. The relief that the boys were here to save her was destroyed by the fact that now all three of them were going to die. She huddled into a ball and awaited her fate with shocking cowardice.

"Wingardium Leviosa! "

Hermione couldn't resist looking up in surprise as Ron finally pronounced the spell correctly and saw the Troll's club drop down onto its head and knock it out cold.

Harry came running over to her.

"Hermione, are you alright?"

"Yes. No. I have no idea. How did a mountain troll get into the castle?"

Ron explained about Professor Quirrell's sudden announcement and their realization that she wouldn't know, and was possibly in danger, because of Ron's hurtful words.

"I'm really very sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I speak without thinking a lot. It comes from being in a big family. One has to talk when one gets a chance to be heard; there isn't always time for editing. I'm awfully glad you're alright."

"Me too," added Harry.

Just then, the door flew open and three teachers raced into the room. Hermione nearly fainted at the level of fury on the face of her Head of House, but the look on Professor Snape's face made her want to be sick.

It was obvious that the boys were going to be held responsible for disobeying the order to go to the common room. They would most likely be expelled from the school for saving her life. She instantly judged her loss as less than theirs, so she stepped forward and did something she hadn't done since she was four years old and found out what soap tasted like the hard way: she lied.

"It was my fault," she blurted. "I was curious about trolls and so I went looking for it..."

The rest of her words were lost amidst the sound of buzzing in her ears. All she really understood was that it had worked, the boys were looking at her with shocked gratitude, and Professor Snape... He was looking at her with bitter disappointment.

She took a moment to find her satchel in the mess and carefully stepped around the troll and Professor Quirrell. She followed the others out of the lavatory, but when she gained the hallway, a hand clamped down on her shoulder and spun her around.

"For a young lady who puts such emphasis on truth, you lie with suspicious ease," Professor Snape said in a quiet voice as the others drifted out of sight.

He placed a calloused finger under her chin and tilted her face toward the sconce on the wall.

"Tell me the truth. Why were you crying alone in there?"

She started to protest, but he cut her off.

"DON'T... lie to me. Your eyes are nearly swollen shut from weeping, and yet there are no tear streaks through the dust on your face. This tells me that you were crying even before you encountered our unwanted guest. Last chance, Miss Granger."

Her lip trembled and she couldn't control it.

"You will think it a childish thing."

"Nevertheless..."

"It's that I had so hoped that being here would be different. That once I found people like me, I would... have friends. But I don't. No matter what I do, I cannot seem to fit in. It's not just that I'm Muggle-born, the others get on well enough. It's me. No one likes me, and I don't know why. Just before dinner, I heard someone that I had tried to help ridicule me most viciously. It... broke my resolve."

"And the mountain troll? It just happened to find you alone, didn't it?"

"Yes, sir. I don't know where it came from. I was just washing my face when all of a sudden it was behind me, trying to kill me. Harry and Ron appeared out of nowhere as well. They saved my life, sir. I couldn't let them be expelled for that. I thought if anyone was to be sent away from the school, it might as well be me."

"Potter was the one who insulted you, wasn't he?" he spat. "He'd have had no other reason to know you were missing unless he was responsible."

"Actually, it was Ronald Weasley, sir. Aside from Neville Longbottom, Harry is the only other student in the school who treats me with any decency."

He pulled his hand away from her face, and she dropped her gaze toward the floor. She saw his badly injured leg through the tear in his robes.

"Sir! You're hurt!"

"I am aware of that fact, Miss Granger, you needn't shout it to the world. It is of no consequence. Listen to me. Potter might seem charming to you, but any association with people like him will almost always result in tragedy for those around them. You told me once that you placed great store in my opinions. I would advise you now. Stay away from Potter. He is thoughtless and arrogant and incapable of thinking a situation through for any other possible outcome but the one he has already decided on. His kind is only interested in their own self-aggrandizement.

"I understand what you are going through, Miss Granger. You are neither the first, nor the last, student to have trouble finding their place in the world, regardless of magic. Do not let your need for the society of others cloud your mind. You are here to fulfill your dream of making a mark on the world based on your own merit, not to become a social butterfly."

"Yes, sir."

"Go back to your common room. I believe it has been some time since your last meal. As dinner was interrupted in such a dramatic manner, I will ask the Headmaster to have food sent to each House."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"You can thank me by heeding my words, Miss Granger."

"I will give them considerable thought, sir."

She could feel the weight of his stare and shied away from looking up.

"An honest answer, at least," he said, with finality.

With a swirl of robes he was off, displaying a slight limp. She watched his retreat with worry and sadness.

She hurried back to Gryffindor Tower and slipped through the portrait hole.

Immediately, she was surrounded by students who were congratulating her on her survival and peppering her with a thousand questions. Harry and Ron squirmed through the press and both danced about her excitedly.

"Are you alright? We saw Snape nab you. I hope the git didn't give you extra detentions!" said Ron with worry.

"No, not at all."

"You were incredible, Hermione," said Harry.

"I rather thought you and Ron were the incredible ones," she said deferentially.

"Ah, go on," laughed Ron. "We just fought a troll. You looked both Snape and McGonagall in the eye and lied for us! Now that's bravery of the highest order! And we didn't even deserve it! We were the reason you were in danger in the first place!"

"You're a little free with this 'we' business, my friend," laughed Harry.

Hermione felt ill. She was to be finally accepted based on her ability to lie?

"Listen, Ron, Harry. I cannot express to you how grateful I am that you were in the right place at the right time. I am in your debt for saving my life. I do forgive you, Ron, for the insult that resulted in my being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I am sincerely pleased that neither of you are to be expelled because you came to my rescue. Perhaps we could just call all debts paid and let it drop?"

Ron smiled warmly. "Absolutely, if that is what you want. But don't lose track of the fact that you saved my life as well. If I'd been kicked out, my mum would have killed me dead."

"FOOD!" shouted Seamus Finnigan.

There was a mass migration across the common room as everyone headed to the tables that had arrived, filled with a truncated version of the feast.

Ron dove in with a look of joy. Hermione walked over with more dignity but was just as famished. Neville smiled and made up a plate for her, and Harry somehow managed to commandeer two of the couches, so the four of them could eat in relative comfort.

She carefully balanced her plate on her lap as Ron sat next to her, and Neville sank down next to Harry.

"Did you see the cut on Snape's leg?" asked Harry after they had blunted their appetites.

"Professor Snape, Harry," she chided. Realizing what she'd done, she grimaced and looked at the others.

"Quite correct," Harry replied with a smile. "But did you?"

"I did," she replied.

"I didn't notice. I was too busy staring at his eyes. Bloody hell, that man's scary." Ron looked at Hermione quickly. "My apologies. The man scares my manners away."

Reluctant to ruin this rare moment of camaraderie, she just gave him a tight smile.

"I bet he had something to do with it," whispered Harry.

"With what?" she blurted.

"With the troll. I bet he lured the troll into the school for some dark and terrible purpose."

Hermione snorted, but Neville seemed eager to agree.

"There's something not right with him," Longbottom said. "I'm beginning to wonder if he hexes me somehow, just so I will make all those mistakes in his class."

"That's absurd," she huffed. "He's a teacher! What purpose would it serve for him to bring a troll into the school?"

"All I can say is, ever since I arrived at school, my scar has been hurting." By now, everyone knew about Harry's scar and about the dark wizard who gave it to him when he was a mere infant. "It's especially worse during meals. In fact, whenever it really starts to pain me, I can always count on looking up to find Snape staring at me."

"I have to admit," she said. "I have seen him staring at you quite a bit. I wasn't aware it made your scar hurt."

"You think it's dark magic?" asked Neville. "I've heard said that Snape was a follower of You-Know-Who."

"Weren't all Slytherins?" added Ron. "And no one is more Slytherin than Snape himself."

"Honestly, you are convicting a man on rumor and innuendo," she said in her most pleasant and reasonable voice. "I'm sure a man as wise as Professor Dumbledore would know if he had a dark wizard on his staff, don't you?"

"Hermione's right," said Harry. "If we are going to successfully convict him, we need proof. I'm going to keep an eye on him from now on."

Hermione found herself speechless as the three boys developed a strategy to prove her Professor guilty of a criminal act while stuffing themselves full of the food he had provided.

She stood up, and the three reflexively stood as well.

"Where are you off to?" asked Ron.

"I... I need to work on an essay. I'm going to head up to my room now."

"Always diving into the books, you are. Perhaps later you could look at my essay and tell me where I'm going wrong?"

Hermione was sincerely touched by Ron's peace offering, knowing how much he resented being shown his mistakes. If she wanted to encourage a solid friendship, now would be the time to close the link.

"I have a bit of a headache, actually. Probably from all of the excitement. I'll just turn in for the night when I'm done. I'm sure your essay is just fine as is."

She watched his face as he tried to understand if his gesture had been accepted or rejected.

"Good night, everyone."

She turned on her heel and left the company of Harry Potter and his friends. Professor Snape had been correct. They were a charming bunch, the three of them, but they were hotheaded and given to fantastic leaps of illogic and paranoia. She would seek solace in her studies and politely avoid them in the future.