Hermione made some final adjustments to her robes before sliding the door open. It was a good thing the little window on the door had a curtain, otherwise she wouldn't have felt comfortable changing in the compartment even though Harry was outside.

The boy in question turned and regarded her. He was already in his uniform, having changed first; he hadn't even bothered to ask Hermione to leave when he had, simply throwing his robes on over his muggle jeans and T-shirt.

"Well, well, Hermione Granger, look at you. Add a pointy hat to that getup and you'll be right at home in a Disney film."

Hermione wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a compliment or not, but she thought it might be. She was starting to understand that Harry Potter's mind worked in rather mysterious ways. Plus she got the feeling Harry never felt the need to hide his opinion from anybody.

So she said, "thank you. It was a bit of a learning curve, but Madam Malkin was ever so helpful, she taught me all about how to properly wear and care for my robes."

"Huh, lucky you. She was completely antagonistic towards me, kept going on and on; quit fidgeting, don't touch that, you broke it, he's getting away!" Harry sighed as he walked back into the compartment. "And they say sexism isn't a thing."

Hermione just shook her head, easily realising the joke for what it was. Well, she hoped it was a joke anyway.

The train slowed and came to a stop then, and Hermione and Harry went to the window and spotted lit houses in the nightscape of a snowy village.

The Hogwarts Express had gotten to Hogsmeade.

Hermione began to climb up to bring down her luggage, but Harry said, "don't worry, leave it. The elves will get them."

Hermione turned to him in confusion. "Elves? Hogwarts has no elves. Hogwarts, A History never mentioned anything of the sort."

Harry shrugged in a way that suggested that he'd expected her words. "Can't say I'm surprised, really, people hardly talk about them. But yeah, Hogwarts has elves. Not the Tolkien kind though," a wistful expression came over Harry's face, "God, I wish they were the Tolkien kind... anyway no, they're uh, short, and thin, with big eyes and flappy bat ears. Kinda scary-looking actually, but they're harmless. Mostly."

Hermione was quite dubious of Harry's claim, especially since she wouldn't put it past him to pull her leg so. After all, none of her books mentioned anything about any elves.

Before Hermione could come to a decision though, an older boy wearing a prefect's badge walked past the door, announcing loudly. "First years, leave your luggage on the train; the house-elves will get them."

Oh. But—"but none of my books said anything about house-elves," Hermione said.

She didn't know why it bothered her so much. No, wait, she did know. What she didn't know was how an entire species could just not be mentioned in books that were supposed to teach muggleborns about the Wizarding World.

House-elves were part of the Wizarding World too, right?

Harry shrugged again. "Like I said, 'I'm not surprised'. On the bright side though, you can use this as a learning moment; not all books are trustworthy, sometimes authors just use them as a medium to spread their bias. Or worse, propaganda. My mother told me that one."

Hermione comprehended how... unlikely, Harry's last sentence was, considering his mother had died when he was one, at the same time the boy's own eyes widened and he quickly said, "um, I mean, that's the kind of thing I like to think my mother would have said. Yeah. Totally. Definitely that second one. Anyway why don't we head over to the castle?"

Hermione thought about saying something, but then she decided that it wasn't any of her business. "Okay, let's."

As they left the compartment, and all of the evidence of their earlier "spellwork" behind (Hermione really hoped those effects wore off soon like Harry had said they would), Hedwig perched on Hermione's shoulder, earning the bird a stink eye from her owner.

They exited the train among the throng of students, and Hermione started as a booming voice shook her all the way to her bones.

"First years. First years, over here."

The source turned out to be a very noticeable, and noticeably hairy, man in a thick fur coat. He was so tall that no one in the crowd of students came past his stomach, and the width of his shoulders seemed like it might be up to four times her father's.

"Is that a giant?" She asked Harry, eyes wide.

How could a man be so big and tall and still move easily under his own power like that? Was this magic?

Harry made a so-so gesture with one hand. "Half," he said, and Hermione looked at him, because she hadn't actually expected an answer. "But don't tell him I told you though. I don't think I'm supposed to know."

Hermione just nodded mutely.

"First years, this way," the giant half-giant man kept shouting, holding a lantern above his head, which made it higher than the ceiling of a house for everyone else.

"Come on," Harry said, pulling her ahead.

The man was no less intimidating closer, and when Hermione and Harry stopped before him, his big eyes (which were actually quite small for his huge face) focused on them. No, it focused on Harry.

"Hey, Hagrid," Harry called, and the man's wide mouth split a line through his very bushy beard.

"Harry," he boomed (or maybe that was his normal voice?). "How are yeh?"

"I'm fine. Great even. This is Hermione, by the way. Hermione Granger."

"Hello there, Hermione," Hagrid said, and Hermione managed a small "hello" in return. "Harry, why don't you bring Hermione over for some tea tomorrow. I can show you around like yeh asked."

"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry said. "Hermione?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I would love to come. Thank you, Hagrid."

"Don't worry about it," Hagrid said. "Now, first yea—oh," Hagrid stopped, realising that all the first years seemed to have gathered while they talked. "That should be it," he muttered (although with his size the dead probably would have heard him), then said, "alright then, children, follow me. And watch yer steps now."

Hagrid walked off, leading the way with the lantern, and as Hermione and Harry made to follow, a familiar and offended voice said from behind them, "you lied to me."

The two children turned to see Draco Malfoy and... actually he'd never introduced the other two boys.

"Say what now?" Harry asked the annoyed blonde.

"You lied to me," Malfoy repeated, his words beginning to draw the attention of some of the students around them. "You told me your name is James Bond, but the half-breed called you Harry just now. You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"

Harry began to respond, but then he paused and peered intently at some older students in the distance. "Sweet Merlin, do the Weasley twins have Nimbus 2000s?"

"What?" Draco asked and turned to look, and Hermione could now see that the redhead twins (Fred and George, the redhead boy had called them) she had seen in the train were walking with a group of friends, and were holding broomsticks.

Draco scoffed. "Those aren't Nimbus 2000s, they're Cleansweeps."

"Are you sure? Because from where I'm standing they really look like Nimbus 2000s to me," Harry said.

Draco looked back at the twins, then at Harry. At the twins, then back at Harry. Then he scoffed and stormed off in the direction of the twins while muttering to himself, "like the Weasleys could ever afford a Nimbus."

"Look to the scion of the House of Malfoy, people," Harry murmured, then shook his head. "Slytherin must be rolling in his grave. Come on, Hermione."

Hermione followed Harry as he walked, but she had to ask. "What was all that about?"

"Hmm? Oh, right. Well, Draco's family, the Malfoys? They're rich. And they hate the Weasleys, that's Ron's family—Ron's the boy who came in helping Neville look for his newt—and his family, the Weasleys, are not very well off. Though that might be because of all the children they have. Anyway, the Malfoys say the Weasleys are a disgrace to pure-blood Wizarding families—you know what pure-bloods are?" She nodded. "Good. While the Weasleys, on the other hand, hate the Malfoys and call them bigoted, Voldemort-loving scum. Which is true."

Hermione blinked. "So you took advantage of a long-standing family feud to avoid talking to Draco?"

"Precisely." He looked proud.

Hermione held back a sigh. She didn't want to be rude, but she was starting to think that Harry might be a problem child.

"What's Voldemort?" She asked. She thought it was some kind of French, but she wasn't really sure as she didn't speak French, only Latin and Greek.

Maybe she should have taken her father's advice and learnt more relevant languages, but she'd just assumed that she would have the time to learn them before it became important.

"You-Know-Who," Harry said, and Hermione frowned for a second in confusion before her eyes went wide in realization. "Yeah, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, The Dark Lord, The Mad Titan, whatever the hell else they call him. The point is, that guy that people are so scared of they won't even print his name despite that they believe he's dead? His name's Voldemort.

"Well, not really. His name's actually Tom, but I guess he figured no one would be scared of the Dark Lord Tom so he went with Voldemort instead."

And Hermione burst into laughter, completely ignorant of how horrified someone born into the Wizarding World would be in her shoes.

A horror that she would soon come to learn.

"No more than four to a boat," the booming voice of Hagrid came from up ahead, and Hermione and Harry hurried forward a little to find themselves on the bank of a lake. A great, big lake of twinkling black water, at the end of which, sitting on a cliff, was Hogwarts Castle.

Even Harry looked impressed.

"Get on the boats," Hagrid called again. "No more than four to one."

Hermione and Harry found an empty boat and got on, Hedwig flying to perch at the head of it, and as they settled in a girl walked up to them then called to her friend, "come on, Daphne, there's space here."

Daphne turned out to be a very beautiful girl with a noble grace to her posture. As she and her friend made to enter the boat, however, Harry stretched out, covering as much space as possible.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

"Sorry," he told the girls, "boat's full. Cheerio." He even added a little wave at the end.

The two girls blinked. "What do you mean the boat is full? I can see you trying to take up the space," the girl who'd called to Daphne said.

And with a perfectly straight face, Harry said, "I have no idea what you're talking about; the boat is clearly beyond capacity."

The girl turned red in anger, but before she could say anything, Daphne said, "Tracey, it's okay. Let's find another boat."

And both girls walked off, one rather reluctantly.

"Harry! That was beyond rude. Why would you do that?"

The boy didn't seem the least bit fazed by her outburst. "Hermione, trust me, if you had half the meta-knowledge I do, you probably would have done the same."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means," Harry said, sitting up, "that within one train ride, I've somehow managed to meet you, Ron, Neville, and Draco. Twice. I've had my fill of canon for the day, like hell am I adding fanon to it."

Hermione blinked. Blinked again. "What?" She asked, but she received no answers from the boy before her.

They ended up making the short trip to Hogwarts in silence, Hermione stroking Hedwig as she tried unsuccessfully to solve the puzzle before her. That of the boy named Harry Potter.

He knew things about the Wizarding World. Many things. Even though he supposedly didn't grow up in it. One second he was being nice and funny and casting spells with her, and the next, he was being rude to two girls he didn't even know. Or did he?

Which led her to the last thing really; all the odd things he said.

Canon? Fanon? And what about that comment about his mother?

This was all so confusing.

The boats stopped at an underground cave lit with glowing crystals of some sort, and there was Prof. McGonagall waiting for them with a displeased expression on her face.

"Hagrid," the Prof. said, "you're late."

"Sorry, professor," the huge man replied, disembarking, "had to wait on Malfoy, didn't know where he went."

Prof. McGonagall eyed the boy, who shot herself and Harry a nasty look.

Great, now Harry was getting her in trouble too.

"Come on, children," the professor said, and led them through a series of tunnels to where Hermione assumed they would have The Sorting.

As they walked, the students around her began to murmur among themselves, and Hermione began to pick up little tidbits.

"—some kind of test—"

"—it decides if—"

Oh! She realized. They're talking about The Sorting.

"—brothers said we have to fight a troll."

... Well, some of them are.

Hermione knew about The Sorting, and she knew it was a hat that did it, Hogwarts, A History had told her that much. What it hadn't told her though was how the hat went about it.

What if it was a test like that girl had said?

Hermione slowly began to panic. Was she ready to take a test? She'd read all of her school books, of course (and many more besides), but she wasn't ready for a test, she hadn't prepared!

Why hadn't she prepared? What had she been thinking? Of course, there would be a test, it stands to reason that there would be a test. How could she have thought that there wouldn't be a—

"Hedwig, peck her on the head for me, will you?" Harry asked, and surprisingly, the owl, who was once again perched on Hermione's shoulder, obliged.

"Ow! Why? That hurt, Harry!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Because you're being dumb. First of all, it's not a test. And second of all, even if it was a test you're the least likely person here to fail it."

"Oh, yeah?" A boy near them asked. "Well, how do you know it's not a test?"

"Seriously?" Harry asked. "Did you not read Hogwarts, A History at all?"

Hermione looked at him. "But you told me you didn't read it!"

"No, I didn't! I said I looked at the pictures. Those are two very different things."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she smiled all the same.

Quieter, so only he could hear her, she asked, "do you really think I could pass? If it was a test."

Harry shook his head in fond exasperation. "Hermione, I think you have the potential to be the greatest witch the world has ever seen," he said seriously.

Hermione stumbled. "What?"

"Don't give me that look," Harry said. "I mean it. I think you could be so great that one day people will say Dumbledore was almost as great as you."

"Oh don't be silly, Harry," Hermione said, quickly latching on to that one thing in an attempt to ground herself after the utter... crazy talk this boy she just met was saying. "Dumbledore is a war hero. He's a master of Transfiguration, a Charms expert, an acclaimed alchemist; he discovered all twelve uses for dragon's blood. He's the greatest wizard there is."

"For now," Harry shrugs, perfectly confident.

Did he really mean it? Did Harry really think that she could be... that?

No, Hermione decided. He didn't. This was just Harry being... well, being Harry.

Unknown to either child, McGonagall's ears, honed from years of dealing with the Weasley twins, and the Marauders before them, picked up every word.

The Great Hall was majestic. Ghosts and floating candles and the night sky for a ceiling, everything about it screamed magic.

The sorting turned out to be like Harry had said; no tests, just a talking, singing hat you wear on your head.

Hermione was still wondering how the hat knew which house to put you in when her name was called.

Without bidding, Hedwig flew off Hermione's shoulder and perched on Harry's head, and when he tried to swat her off she pecked him after which he begrudgingly left her alone.

She walked up to the chair, nervous before so many gazes, and sat dutifully as the hat was placed atop her head by the headmistress.

"Hmm," the hat hummed thoughtfully directly into her mind, causing her to almost gasp. "Very great potential, I see."

"Really?" Hermione thought back.

"Don't believe me, do you?" The hat asked, and Hermione could somehow hear his eyebrow rise.

Which didn't even make sense, because the hat didn't have any eyebrows.

"Oh no, I do! It's just my... Harry said the same thing earlier."

"Oh? Well, he has a good eye then. You should keep him close; friends like that are often too rare to come by."

Right. "So, um..."

"Want to know your house, do you? Well, any one would suit you."

"Really?" Hermione asked.

"Really," the hat agreed. "The ambition and cunning requisite to fit in with Slytherin's host; though loyalty and the determination of a 'Puff you have the most; chasing knowledge, purely for sport, like a Ravenclaw; but your heart, I think, beats same as a Gryffindor."

A beat passed.

"That was beautiful." Hermione blushed.

"I know," the hat agreed. "It's one of the better ones I've made in a very long time. However, the point remains, you can go wherever you want Hermione Granger, so which do you choose?"

Well, if she could choose then her choice was obvious. But before that though. "Um, Mr. Hat, can I please know your name?"

The hat paused, and Hermione began to wonder if something was wrong before it said, "no one has asked me that in a very long time. But my name is Nilrem, Granger."

"Okay, Mr. Nilrem, I choose Gryffindor."

"Ah, the house of the lion. Very well then, GRYFFINDOR!" The hat yelled out the last part, and the Gryffindors and some from some other houses applauded.

McGonagall took the hat off her head, and Hermione headed over to the Gryffindor table, where a seat had already been set aside for her.

Hedwig flew to join her, perching on the table this time. An older boy, yet another redhead, this one wearing a prefect's badge, eyed the bird, but fortunately said nothing.

After a few more people, it was Harry's turn, and as soon as his name was called, the entire hall silenced. Hermione even saw some of the teacher's sit up.

Was this what it was like for Harry all the time? How did he deal with it?

It was even worse because he was only this famous because of a tragedy.

Harry walked up to the chair, throwing a wink her way as he did, and Hermione suddenly got a very bad feeling.

McGonagall placed Nilrem on Harry's head, only for the boy to catch him at the final moment and ask in a clear, innocent voice. "Uh, I don't have to worry about lice or anything, do I?"

If you could hear a pin drop before, now you could hear a feather land on a pillow.

Hermione meanwhile simply hid her face in her hands and wondered if it was too late to start pretending she didn't know Harry.

Surprisingly, it was the hat himself that broke the silence. With a hearty laugh no less.

"Don't worry, Harry Potter, I don't pick up lice, or dirt of any kind really. It's the only thing that has kept me in such good condition all these years."

"Oh, okay then," Harry said and dropped the hat on his head.

One of the redhead twins at the Gryffindor table whispered to the other. "How did we never think of that, brother mine?"

"I don't know," the other responded. "But it does look like we'll be having competition this year." Then they made eye-contact and smiled devilishly in sync.

That couldn't be good.

Suddenly, Harry's voice rang out again in the still quiet hall. "Well, what can I say? I'm spurshurl." And Nilrem laughed again.

"Yes, that you are," the hat agreed out loud.

"Anyway, can we skip all this so you can just put me in the same house as Hermione?" Harry continued.

And whatever fledgling plan the girl had to pretend not to know Harry took a dagger to the heart and bled out on the streets, as every single eye in the hall turned to her.

God, no.

Nilrem laughed again and said, "very well then, GRYFFINDOR!"

No one clapped. No one booed. No one said anything for five seconds straight.

And then twins started stomping their feet rhythmically; one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four, and with every repeat more feet joined in.

On and on and on until almost the entire hall was stomping.

Harry meanwhile, calmly took Nilrem off, gave him a peck, and patted him softly, before handing him over to Prof. McGonagall.

It was at this point that the twins started chanting, "we got Potter! We got Potter!!" and all the Gryffindors quickly joined in.

Harry, hearing the chant, looked right at her with those annoyingly green eyes, smiled like this was the best day of his life, and started chanting too, but with his lines edited the tiniest bit. "You got Potter! You got Potter!!"

Maybe she could still revisit her not knowing him plan.