My Once and Future Self

Hermione smiled as she stared at the large scarlet engine that was currently filling platform nine and three quarters with steam. The air was buzzing with excitement as students milled around bidding goodbye to parents, meeting up with friends, suddenly realizing what it was they forgot to pack (the most common item was a toothbrush - not all cases of which were accidental) or (in the soon to be first years' cases) looking extremely nervous.

"Brilliant isn't it?" Sirius asked from somewhere near her ear. His breath on the side of her face made her shiver. Unconsciously, she took a step back and smiled nervously at him. He only smirked in response and sauntered off towards the train.

Remus snorted.

"Come, you can stay in our compartment," he said kindly, then reached down and lifted her trunk. Fortunately for Remus (who, despite his gentlemanly intentions was now stuck carrying his trunk and Hermione's) he was aided by James.

They shuffled down the hallway in the train, dodging three lost looking first years, a fat boy with a large obnoxious toad, a gang of boys so surly that Hermione was certain they must be Slytherins, and finally made their way to the end of the train.

"Ah! Excellent," Sirius said before tossing his trunk rather haphazardly onto the rack and turning to Hermione. "Welcome, darling, to the great compartment of the Marauders!"

He paused as if waiting for applause.

James, showing his intelligence, took that as an opportunity to walk into the compartment and flop down on the seat. Remus and Peter piled in after him, both dragging Hermione's trunk in and depositing it on the rack.

Hermione stood awkwardly in the doorway, feeling distinctly like she was intruding on something very personal.

"Have a seat, there's no need to stand on ceremony," Peter said teasingly.

She blushed and sat down in the corner, hoping that the trip would pass quickly.

It didn't.

At first it seemed as if things would be all right. Hermione brought out her new spellbooks from her trunk and began to read through them for the third time (much to the amusement of the other occupants of the compartment). She had just reached the section in her Transfiguration textbook that dealt with changing the appearance of one's ears when someone poked her in the knee.

Starting slightly (she had become immersed in her reading and had long since forgotten that there was anyone else in her general vicinity) she was surprised to see everyone staring at her expectantly.

"Erm... sorry. What?"

Sirius smiled widely. "I just wanted to know if you wanted to play chess."

She spied a chess set reassembling itself after what appeared to have been a gruelling game.

"I just beat James, you see," continued Sirius.

A sound of protest was heard from James' corner of the compartment.

"So at this time I'm the undisputed champion. I took his queen with my knight, which was his downfall really. Because with his queen gone my bishop was free to check his king and it was all downhill from there."

Hermione nodded, wondering absently if he had always rambled this much. Or would ramble this much. Stupid tenses.

"So would you like to lose a game of chess?" The insult of the query was dulled by the charming smile that accompanied it.

"Since you put it that way: no."

And with that she returned to Chapter 16: Transfiguring Your Ears for All Occasions. Larger ears for eavesdropping, stronger ears to hold up particularly large earrings, multi-coloured ears to impress your friends and even tiny ears in the exact shape and size of the keyhole of your choice so that you won't miss anything that goes on behind closed doors.

She had read nearly a paragraph when she felt another poke.

"What?"

"Would you play if you'd win?"

She stared at him for a moment. "Do you want me to play?"

Peter said, "Yes," at the same time as Sirius said, "Not really."

Hermione looked sceptical.

"Sirius, James, Remus and I always play. Sirius always beats James -"

"--Does not!" said the rather delusional James.

Peter ignored him. "Remus always beats me. Remus beats Sirius, and James and I lose about equally."

"But it never really matters because I always win," Sirius said, smirking broadly.

"Except when you play Remus," James put in snidely.

"Hey, leave me out of your domestic disputes, guys."

"Yes, it's bad enough that you act like an old married couple in private, but must you do it while we have company?" Peter teased.

Hermione snorted at the sudden mental image of Sirius in a frilly apron waving a feather duster at James. Old married couple indeed.

Sirius pointed theatrically at James. "It's bad enough you inflict everyone you meet with your rampant egotism."

"My egotism? What about your spontaneous theatrics?" came the response.

"Your poor flirting skills, your delusions of grandeur, your stupid hair!" This was said equally theatrically.

"Exhibitionism! Wounded inner child!" James paused suddenly. "Hey! My flirting skills are way better than yours!"

Hermione turned bright red from the effort not to giggle.

Sirius frowned. "What's that condition where one always has to have the last word?"

"Marriage," Remus quipped, then turned to Hermione and asked conversationally, "Do you play chess?"

She was momentarily unable to respond due to the pain from the rib she had most likely cracked whilst trying hard not to laugh. In a vain attempt to regain some semblance of dignity, she looked away from Remus. She immediately realized this was a mistake as the first thing she set eyes on was Sirius sulking petulantly in the corner. That particular sight was her breaking point and she collapsed into hysterical giggles.

The Marauders, kind and generous souls that they were, would never let a lady laugh alone, so they eagerly joined in.

After they had all suitably laughed themselves into exhaustion, James piped up from his position on the floor, "So, do you play chess?"

"No." She smiled, remembering the fifty points Ron had won for Gryffindor for the 'best played game of chess Hogwarts has ever seen'.

She was brought out of her reverie by Peter's disappointed sigh.

"Do you play cards?" James asked.

"No."

Sirius snorted. "Do you play anything?"

She shrugged. "Not really."

"You're boring," Peter blurted out suddenly.

Hermione went very still. "Am I?" she said harshly.

Peter seemed to shrink into himself.

"Hey, calm down. He was only kidding. Besides, you are boring if all you do is read textbooks. What do you do for fun?" Sirius drawled from his position on the floor with his head on Remus' stomach.

She shrugged.

"Nothing? You can't think of anything you do for fun?"

She shrugged again, feeling exposed and stupid under their scrutiny.

"Well," said James suddenly, sitting up, knocking into Remus and sending Sirius flying, "we'll just have to teach you then. We can't have young ladies wasting away. It's unethical. It's immoral. It's... it's..."

"Wicked!" exclaimed Sirius.

"Yes! Wicked, and vile! And..."

"Unprincipled, dishonourable, disreputable," put in Remus helpfully.

"And just plain wrong," finished Peter.

And with that, they shoved the chessboard in front of her and James proudly declared, "You play black."

It was then Hermione realized that she wouldn't be getting back to her book anytime soon.

...

Hermione had gotten into a carriage without thinking after leaving the train. It was only halfway through the carriage ride that she realized she hadn't been sorted yet. Suddenly all traces of hunger were gone.

Not that she wanted to go with the first years. She thought going by boat was lovely for those seeing the castle for the first time, but the prospect of being the only sixteen year old in a crowd of eleven year olds was not appealing. But what was she going to do when she got into the Great Hall? She couldn't exactly waltz up and plop down at the Gryffindor table.

Furthermore, what if she wasn't sorted into Gryffindor? True, Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad, and she'd be away from anyone that she'd know in the future. But James, Remus, Sirius and surprisingly, Peter were the only people she'd gotten to know, and she didn't want to be separated from them now.

Far too quickly the ride was over and students began piling out of the carriages and into the school.

The first thing Hermione noticed as she entered the Great Hall was that it was exactly the same. It didn't matter that she didn't recognize any of the students, or that she didn't know quite a few of the teachers, it was still the same. Dumbledore caught her eye and gestured for her to come forward. Smiling gratefully, she did.

"Stand off to the side if you please, Ms. Granger," he said. "I'll introduce you after the new first years have been sorted."

"Do I need to be sorted sir?"

He looked at her and smiled. "Of course, my dear. Every new student needs to be sorted."

She nodded, feeling stupid.

"Now, off to the side if you please."

Hermione immediately decided she didn't like standing at the side of the head table at all. For starters she was facing the hall. Secondly, she stood out like a sore thumb this way, and already heads were craning to get a look at her. A whisper, like a ripple, spread through the hall, getting louder as more and more people noticed her presence. She occupied herself with making sure that her shoes were clean. She noted that a splatter of dirt had managed to make it up onto the toe of her shoe and tried to inconspicuously rub it off with her other foot.

Finally, when she thought she could bear the scrutiny no longer, the first years marched in. She almost smiled, noting that they looked nearly as terrified as she felt.

After "Young, Todd," was sorted into Hufflepuff, Dumbledore stepped forward and Hermione's stomach gave an unpleasant lurch.

"Welcome, welcome to another school year. I trust you have all had a long enough break this summer to have forgotten everything you've learned."

A few people laughed.

"It gives me great pleasure to introduce Ms. Granger," he gestured for her to step forward. "Who will be joining us for her sixth year of education. I trust you will all make her feel welcome." He nodded towards the stool.

Hermione stepped forward far more confidently than she felt, well aware that every set of eyes in the hall were directed at her as the brim of the Sorting Hat cut off her vision.

After a small moment of panic in which she was sure the hat was going to refuse to sort her, or send her to Slytherin, the brim opened and announced to the whole hall: "GRYFFINDOR."

Nearly shaking with relief she stood and placed hat back on the stool before rushing off to the Gryffindor table and sitting at the only available spot - the one right at the end. But it didn't matter. The table was familiar, even if the people weren't, and she wasn't able to stop smiling.

Barely refraining from laughing at the amazed gasps of the first years as food filled every platter in the room, she happily dug into all the food Hogwarts had to offer. No longer nervous and unsure she took the time to look around the hall.

Over at the Slytherin table she noted a boy with long greasy dark hair and a scowl affixed to his face as if he found the whole world beneath him. Nearly bursting out into hysterics, she mentally noted that her future Potions professor seemed to have the same temperament at sixteen that he had at thirty-three.

The only other person she recognized was a red haired Gryffindor chatting animatedly with her friends. She looked up at Hermione and smiled kindly. Hermione nearly fell off the bench. She recognized the girl from the album Harry had of his parents.

So there they were. Now she'd seen the whole set. She was going to school with her best friend's parents, his godfather, her old Potions professor, and her favourite Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

It was all very absurd.

But it didn't matter. After the feast Hermione was swept up in the crowd of people heading for the Gryffindor common room, and from there found her way up into a dorm already inhabited by three other girls (one of which was Harry's mother).

Hermione collapsed onto the four-poster bed and grinned manically at the ceiling.

Finally, she was home.