From her very first days at Hogwarts, Hermione threw herself into her studies. She found almost everything interesting, even History of Magic, which many of her classmates had already declared unbearably boring. But it was Transfiguration that fascinated her most. Turning one object into another seemed to Hermione one of the most extraordinary things she had learned about magic so far. She was especially impressed by transformations of inanimate objects into living creatures. She still remembered the mug Professor McGonagall had turned into a cat when they first met.
Much to her delight, Hermione discovered that Transfiguration came more easily to her than to most of her classmates. From the very first lessons, Professor McGonagall noticed how quickly she grasped her explanations and handled the practical exercises. With every new lesson, this became more obvious. Hermione's hand was almost always the first to shoot into the air whenever the professor asked a question or invited someone to demonstrate a new spell. The Head of Gryffindor was clearly pleased with her progress, and before long some of Hermione's classmates began calling her McGonagall's favourite.
Defence Against the Dark Arts, however, presented Hermione with unexpected difficulties that had nothing at all to do with her abilities. The problem was Professor Quirrell.
Rumours went around the school that he had encountered a vampire during his travels in Romania and had never quite recovered from it. Hermione did not know how much truth there was in the story, but one thing was certain: the professor was afraid of almost everything. Any sudden noise in the corridor made him fall silent in mid-sentence, and once the creak of a door interrupted his explanation for a full minute before he finally recovered.
As a result, he barely mentioned truly dangerous dark magic in his lessons, preferring to describe the abilities of some of the less terrifying magical creatures. One day, visibly nervous, he finally dared to tell the class about the Hypnosaur, which could completely paralyse a person with a single glance.
"The ef-f-fect is somewhat similar to the P-Petrificus Totalus spell," Quirrell explained, constantly adjusting his enormous turban. "B-b-but if you ever encounter a real Hypnosaur, I strongly recommend that, above all, you d-do not look it in the eyes. B-b-better still –"
Suddenly, a loud crash came from the back rows. Quirrell gave a shriek and disappeared beneath the teacher's desk. Only the top of his turban remained visible above it. For several seconds, the class was silent. Then someone sniggered.
"You can come out, Professor!" one of the pupils called. "The Hypnosaur's gone!"
The class burst out laughing. Hermione frowned. The professor's behaviour was certainly rather strange for a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, but mocking someone simply because they were afraid was downright disgusting.
She quickly looked around and saw Neville picking up the book he had dropped.
"Professor Quirrell, it's all right," she said, trying to make herself heard over the laughter. "It was only a book that fell."
The turban rose slightly. Then two huge, frightened eyes appeared above the edge of the desk.
"Are you s-s-sure it was a b-b-book?"
"Quite sure."
Quirrell raised his head a little higher.
"Not a Bub-b-bogon N-n-noisix?"
Hermione was confused.
"A what?"
"A Bub-b-bogon N-n-noisix. A very d-dangerous creature. When it gets angry, it makes exactly that sort of n-n-noise."
The class began to giggle again.
"No, Professor," Hermione repeated patiently. "It was a book."
"I s-see..." he said at last, cautiously beginning to climb out from under the desk. "Right. Where were we..."
BANG!
This time, a book fell at the other end of the classroom. Quirrell shrieked, darted back under the desk and banged his head against it. An inkwell toppled over, and a scroll lying near the edge fell straight onto the professor's head, making him let out another, even more blood-curdling scream.
By now, the whole class was roaring with laughter.
Hermione looked around. One of the pupils was picking up his book from the floor, which this time he had apparently thrown down on purpose.
"Enough!" she exploded. "This is completely unacceptable! We came here to learn, not to mock people!"
The laughter died down a little. Then a sneering voice came from behind her.
"Oh, look. Mrs Filch has come to tell us off."
Hermione spun round and glared at Ron Weasley. He was sitting there with a smug grin on his face.
"You... That's not very Gryffindor of you!"
Ron blinked in surprise.
"What did I do? I wasn't the one who said it!"
"Of course you weren't," Hermione snapped. She sat back down, still seething with anger.
Meanwhile, the turban appeared above the teacher's desk again.
"Miss G-Granger..."
"Yes, Professor?" Hermione replied irritably.
"Are you sure that was a b-b-book as well?"
Hermione clenched her teeth. Now she was a little angry with him too. It was his cowardice that had just made her look like a tiresome little prig in front of everyone yet again.
"Yes, Professor," she replied curtly. "It was a book."
Quirrell waited another few seconds, then cautiously got to his feet.
"Right. Then... let's c-continue. The main thing when facing a dangerous magical creature is not to p-p-panic."
Hermione stared at the professor in disbelief and shook her head as laughter rippled through the classroom again.
After that, his explanations were interrupted more than once by an accidental noise or another prank from one of the pupils. Such incidents were hardly unusual in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and it was sometimes very difficult to learn anything genuinely useful in those lessons.
Unlike Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts, Gryffindors shared some subjects with pupils from other houses. The Ravenclaws joined them for Charms, while the Slytherins joined them for Potions.
Charms was taught by Professor Flitwick, the Head of Ravenclaw. He began with magical theory but quickly moved on to simple spells, giving the pupils a chance to practise them.
Miranda Ravenclaw soon stood out in his lessons. She had already attracted a good deal of attention because she came from an old and respected wizarding family. But it soon became clear that it was not just her background. Miranda proved to be one of the most capable pupils, mastering new spells with ease and always seeming confident and friendly. Among the Ravenclaws, she quickly earned the nickname 'Princess of Ravenclaw'.
Hermione, who had already proved herself in other subjects, soon began to see Miranda as a worthy rival. She could not help feeling jealous whenever Miranda was the first to master a new spell or received praise from Professor Flitwick. At times, Hermione also felt that Flitwick favoured Miranda slightly. Perhaps there was some truth in that. As Head of Ravenclaw, he was naturally pleased to see one of the best pupils in his house doing so well.
Potions, however, turned out to be nothing like Hermione had imagined after her visit to Diagon Alley. No one wore a cook's hat or stirred bubbling mixtures with a ladle. Instead, the pupils spent most of their time carefully measuring and preparing ingredients before adding them to their cauldrons. Hermione, who had always been meticulous, found a certain satisfaction in the process.
The lessons took place in a damp, cold dungeon near the Slytherin common room. Professor Snape, the Head of Slytherin, seemed to belong perfectly in those gloomy surroundings. His stern, unfriendly appearance suited them. Snape clearly favoured the pupils from his own house, but even among them, Draco Malfoy received special treatment. 'Perhaps his family connections had something to do with it,' Hermione thought as she watched Snape offer Draco advice in an almost friendly manner, while showing far less patience with the other pupils, especially when they got something wrong.
The Gryffindors, of course, were subjected to far more cutting remarks and mockery from Snape than the Slytherins. When Nancy Magwort's potion boiled over and filled the dungeon with an unbearable stench, Snape gave her only a mild reprimand. With the Gryffindors, however, he never let even the smallest mistake pass. He seemed to have taken a particular dislike to Harry Potter, who was criticised both when he deserved it and for no reason at all. In any other situation, Hermione would already have said something in Harry's support when faced with such unfairness, but for some reason she was genuinely afraid of Professor Snape and could not bring herself to speak up against him.
***
The library was a real discovery for Hermione. The first time she entered, she stopped in delight. Tall shelves stretched far into the room, packed with hundreds of books about magical plants and creatures, spells, magical objects and the properties of the strangest materials.
Hermione slowly walked along the nearest shelf, reading the titles on the spines. She wanted to read them all and could not decide which book to start with.
"Can I help you with something, Miss...?" came a dry voice beside her.
Hermione started and turned around. Standing in front of her was the thin school librarian, Madam Pince, holding a feather duster.
"Yes... I mean, no. I'm just looking."
Madam Pince gave her a careful look.
"I see," she said with a nod. "When you decide exactly what you're looking for, come and ask."
She moved on, brushing nonexistent dust from volumes that were already spotless.
Before long, Hermione was going to the library every day. After lessons, she would choose a few books, settle down at a table and lose herself in reading until dinner. She could talk about her studies for hours and eagerly shared everything she had learned with those around her. But most of her classmates did not have the same enthusiasm and quickly lost interest in such conversations.
Hermione talked to Neville more than anyone else. He reminded her a little of Tommy, whom she had often stood up for at her old school, and she was always willing to help him in lessons. They got on quite well, but Neville tended to keep to himself, so they never became particularly close.
Hermione remembered her mother's advice to try to make friends at Hogwarts, but it proved harder than she had expected. Even with the girls she shared a dormitory with, her relationships remained fairly superficial. Lila was usually the one to start conversations, while Hermione sat nearby surrounded by textbooks, only occasionally looking up from the pages to add a few words.
Besides Lila, two other girls shared Hermione's room. One of them was Olivia Lightflame, a short, slender brunette with brown eyes. She was rather reserved and rarely spoke to anyone at school, becoming noticeably more animated only when the conversation turned to the last wizarding war. Near the very end of the war, her father had left home and never returned. Neither Olivia nor her mother ever found out what had happened to him.
Hermione sometimes saw her in the library, usually in the History of Magic section. Perhaps Olivia hoped to find some information there about her father's disappearance. Then again, it was just as possible that she had inherited her interest in the subject from her mother, a professor of History of Magic. She specialised in the study of ancient magical scrolls whose original meaning had been lost.
Hermione's last roommate was a tall, slightly plump girl with curly light-brown hair. Her name was Nora Scarleton. Nora's father was a Muggle and worked as a taxi driver. According to his daughter, he had an incredible sense of humour and could spend all day telling stories about his passengers and his adventures at work. Nora seemed to have inherited her love of talking from him. Her mother was a witch who treated magical animals and ran her own veterinary clinic, where Nora had spent a great deal of time before coming to Hogwarts. Most of the stories she loved to tell came from the clinic, and Nora herself found them absolutely hilarious.
"You won't believe this," Nora told them one day. "Not long ago, a baby dragon was brought into Mum's clinic. Only instead of breathing fire, it was blowing soap bubbles!"
"Soap bubbles?" Lila's eyes widened. "How is that even possible?"
"Just like that," Nora replied with a pleased smile. "All the healers spent several days trying to work out what was wrong with him. They examined him with all-seeing spells, gave him a fire potion to drink and even tried lightning therapy on him –"
"Lightning therapy?" Hermione repeated. "What's that?"
"That's when they use weak bolts of lightning to try to restore an animal's fire-related abilities," Nora explained with the confidence of someone who knew what she was talking about. She liked showing off her knowledge of magical animal treatment whenever she got the chance. "But nothing worked, and the dragon just kept blowing more and more bubbles. A lot of them burst right on his snout, so it was covered in soap suds almost all the time."
"And what happened? Did they save him?" Lila asked anxiously.
"One day, a wizard came to our clinic because his owl had suddenly stopped delivering the post. While he was waiting to be seen, he overheard the healers talking about the dragon and got interested. It turned out he was a specialist in Transfiguration. He was the one who realised that someone had put a curse on the little dragon that turned his fire into bubbles. Apparently, someone thought it would be funny."
"And did that wizard save him?" Lila asked hopefully.
"Yes. But if he hadn't happened to come to our clinic, the poor little dragon would still be spitting bubbles. Unless he'd choked on the soap suds first, of course," Nora finished.
Nora had countless stories like that and could tell them for hours. She also loved joking around and messing about, which Hermione did not particularly appreciate, since she usually tried to study in the evenings.
One evening, Nora and Lila were laughing especially loudly at yet another story, and Hermione finally lost patience.
"Could you please keep it down? In case you haven't noticed, I'm trying to study!"
The laughter stopped. Nora looked at her in surprise, then at Lila. Lila suppressed a laugh and gave a puzzled shrug.
"In case you haven't noticed, we live in this room too," Nora replied. "And we have every right to talk and laugh in here. Not everyone spends all their free time buried in books like you do. And anyway, this isn't a library!"
She turned back to Lila and carried on with her story, now deliberately speaking even louder. Hermione flushed and was about to answer, but Lila quietly said something to Nora, and Nora finally lowered her voice. Hermione went back to her textbook, but for a long time she stared at the same line, unable to concentrate.
After that, she and Nora began arguing more and more often, and not only about the noise, but also about things left lying around and other little annoyances. Nora thought Hermione was an awful bore and never missed a chance to say so in front of others. And although Lila remained friendly towards Hermione, she spent far more time with Nora. As a result, Hermione increasingly felt like an outsider even in her own room.
Unable to make friends with the other girls in her year, Hermione spent more and more time with her books and wrote to her parents more often. She told them about school, her lessons and her successes, and sometimes admitted that she felt lonely there. Her parents were always supportive and encouraging. The only thing that worried them was that she still had not made any real friends at school.
***
"Today we finished studying the most basic technique in Transfiguration," Professor McGonagall announced. "Some of you have done extremely well."
She gave the faintest smile and nodded at Hermione. Hermione straightened with satisfaction and quickly glanced around to make sure she was not the only one who had noticed the professor's praise.
"The rest of you, however, need to work harder. Lessons alone are not enough. Each of you should spend at least an hour a day practising what we have covered."
A murmur of discontent ran through the classroom.
"You may go. Miss Granger, stay behind for a moment."
Hermione gathered her books and remained at her desk, wondering why the professor had asked her to stay. When the door closed behind the last pupil, McGonagall walked over to her.
"You are making astonishing progress, Miss Granger. And, as far as I know, not only in Transfiguration. I cannot remember another first-year learning new spells as quickly as you do."
Hermione flushed with pleasure.
"I study a lot after lessons and go to the library every day," she explained eagerly. "I think that's why I'm making progress so quickly."
"That is commendable, but I doubt it explains everything," McGonagall said thoughtfully. "You manage some spells on your first or second attempt. Usually, even the most gifted and hardworking pupils need much more time."
"Perhaps I just have a natural talent for magic?" Hermione suggested.
McGonagall did not answer at once.
"Perhaps. Although natural ability is rarely equally strong in every branch of magic."
She studied Hermione for another few seconds, as though hoping to see something in her that Hermione herself had not yet noticed.
"You may go, Miss Granger."
When Hermione stepped into the corridor, she almost bumped into Neville, who was leaning against the wall and peering behind a nearby suit of armour. The rest of the pupils had already gathered outside the next classroom.
Neville moved aside, muttered an apology, then asked, "What did Professor McGonagall want?"
"She said I learn spells unusually quickly and that I have very strong magical abilities," Hermione replied, sounding pleased. "What are you looking for?"
"Trevor's disappeared again. He probably jumped out of my bag when the professor turned into a cat. I think he's afraid of cats."
Neville finally spotted the toad under a nearby bench, picked him up and put him back in his bag. They headed towards the others.
"That's strange," Hermione said thoughtfully. "When the professor turned into a cat, I had the feeling I'd seen that cat before."
"Where?" Neville asked without much interest.
Hermione frowned, thinking about it, and suddenly it came to her.
"I remember! A few months ago, in the park near my house. I was sitting under a tree doing my homework when it started to rain. She hid under a bench nearby and kept watching me the whole time. Even then, I wondered why a cat was watching me so closely."
They had just reached the rest of their classmates when Lila heard the last few words and turned to Hermione.
"It's quite possible the professor really was watching you," she said.
Hermione looked at her in surprise.
"Why would she do that?"
"As far as I know, they started keeping an eye on some children from Muggle families about ten years ago," Lila explained. "People say it had something to do with the last wizarding war. They watch some of them before they come to Hogwarts. Not everyone, though. Only children around whom strange or dangerous things have happened."
She looked Hermione over curiously.
"Maybe you were especially dangerous around Muggles? Didn't maim anyone, did you?"
Hermione immediately remembered Barbara, her singed hair and the police arriving at the school. She felt her cheeks burn.
"Of course not," she replied quickly.
Neville gave her a sideways look and took half a step back.
"But why do they watch children like that?" Hermione asked.
"No one really knows. They say it has something to do with You-Know-Who. But for some reason, adults don't like talking about it."
At that moment, the door to the next classroom opened, and the pupils began filing inside. Lila hurried in with the others. Hermione went in too, but she could not stop thinking about what Lila had said. Why had someone been watching her before she even came to Hogwarts? And why had even Professor McGonagall been surprised by how quickly she was learning magic?
That same evening, Hermione went to the library and started looking for books that might answer at least one of those questions. But she could not find a single word about children from Muggle families being watched. The books on magical ability said that how quickly someone learned depended on natural talent, hard work and precision in casting spells. But even taking all of that into account, Hermione's progress still seemed unusual.