Then Shall I Know

Chapter Eight: Something Less Than a Warm Welcome

"Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all."

-Helen Keller

Breakfast was an interesting experience, though devoid of all conversation. It appeared to be a House tradition that all Slytherin students appeared at breakfast on the Sunday before class; the table was as populated this morning as it had been the evening before. They appeared to be the only House with such a tradition, however--and Hermione privately wondered who they thought they were impressing, when not even a quarter of the rest of the students were also in attendance.

She chose a seat on the opposite end of the table as the night before, telling herself that she wasn't as much avoiding anyone ('anyone' really meaning Snape) as she was comforting herself with the close proximity of the High Table. Dumbledore was there, as was most of the rest of the faculty, and when she directed her gaze in his direction, he winked at her reassuringly. Hermione was again filled with a rush of love for the Headmaster of Hogwarts--whether in 1977 or in 1997 he was still one of the best people she'd ever known.

Thoughts of Dumbledore caused her to glance toward the Gryffindor table almost by reflex, and before she could look away, she saw a familiar face--and the back of someone she was sure she'd recognize, too. Hermione couldn't force herself to look away, the curiosity at seeing what Remus Lupin had looked like, did look like in 1977 was far too strong.

His face was smooth and unscarred--well, she reasoned, mostly smooth; Sunday mornings seemed not to warrant a shave before breakfast. He was talking animatedly to the redhead sitting across from him, periodically tossing his head back to free his eyes from an errant lock of hair or to laugh. She hadn't realized how grey his hair had gone in her time until she saw it in his, a thought that made her feel a little guilty. She considered herself his friend, after all.

Hermione couldn't see much of Lily--it had to be Lily, she was sure of it--besides the back of her head, and as much as she wanted to keep looking in that direction, she was afraid of calling attention to herself. It wouldn't do for the newest member of Slytherin House to be staring longingly at the Gryffindor table, after all...

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Remus Lupin laughed heartily as he reached for a pitcher of honey to pour on his porridge. Lily's descriptions of an outing to Diagon Alley with James and his mother were classic, and worth getting up early for. She had finished her muffin quickly, moving her plate full of crumbs aside as she demonstrated Prongs' package-laden walk from the merchant district to the nearest fireplace.

"That isn't nearly as amusing as it could be," he said around a mouthful of food. "You should stand up and do it."

"Nice try, Moony," Lily said with a grin. "A roomful of Slytherins and not much else, and you want me to stand up and start swaying around like a buffoon?" she had to laugh when his response to her comment was to wink at her broadly. "Not bloody likely!"

"I doubt it would do your reputation any damage," he said with mock gallantry. Lupin looked to the faraway table of Slytherins. "Besides, only one of them is looking over here."

It was the transfer student, her long brown hair held back with one hand as she tried to skin a banana with the other. She looked over at him again, the shock evident in her eyes even at this distance, as though she hadn't expected him to notice her. They regarded each other across the room for a long moment, at the end of which she did something that surprised him greatly--she smiled. Surely she'd been told about the enmity between their houses? They'd had the whole night to indoctrinate her... Remus wondered what she'd think of the Gryffindor/Slytherin rivalry, having not participated in it for the six previous years like the rest of them. He smiled back as she gave up on her hair and started on the banana with both hands.

"She smiled at you," remarked Lily, who'd shot a quick glance over her shoulder to see to whom he'd been referring. "Do I detect a Shakespearesque love story in the making?"

"Who?" teased Lupin, who had read the bard's work since childhood, his blank expression reminding Lily of James' reaction the first time she'd brought up the subject of sonnets. "Nah," he shook his head. "She's got too much hair--I like 'em bald," he explained in a rough accent.

Lily collapsed in laughter.

"So that's why you let James ask me out," she joked.

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That trip to Hogsmeade is going to have to happen sooner rather than later, Hermione told herself grimly. Her love for bananas was swiftly becoming frustration as she stripped sticky fruit out of her hair and cursed her lack of anything to hold the bushy mass back with. Almost half of the students had gone by now, and her end of the table was completely empty save for herself and an impossibly small-looking First Year sucking on a pineapple. Hermione smiled encouragingly at the girl, who just frowned in reply and turned her back.

How to make friends and influence people, Hermione thought wryly. So much for House solidarity. Another large group of students stood up and started for the double doors at the other side of the room, and Hermione decided that she couldn't spend the whole morning wrapping her hair in banana skin and staring at Professor Lupin. Remus, she told herself firmly as she stood up--but the thought of calling him that seemed so odd that it nearly sent her into a fit of laughter.

Hermione managed to get up and start for the door without spending five minutes or so looking for a bag of books to take with her, an accomplishment that made her grin broadly at Lily Evans as she walked past. The surprised and pleased expression on the other girl's face made Hermione feel almost at home.

She walked out into the courtyard, pulling her new sweater tighter around her shoulders as a chilly northern wind swept through. The friendly looks on both Lupin and Lily's faces caused her to feel optimistic about her time here--and something else as well. Hermione felt an irrational giggle bubble up inside her as she thought about what the redheaded girl in the other room would think about having James Potter's son. Sure, she knew some pretty awful things, but if she dwelled on them she'd never get through the next four months, she decided pragmatically. Not all the secrets she knew were bad, though, and as she tramped across the thick grass heading to the library, she amused herself with the thoughts of the good things she knew.

The last thing she thought of before settling herself in a corner of the library with a stack of books was the look on Hagrid's face if she were to tell him that in 20 odd years he'd be a Hogwarts Professor.

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With their fingers stuffed desperately into their ears, Remus and Lily climbed through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room, earning themselves three pairs of strange looks from their friends. They didn't have to explain, however.

"She's singing again?" Peter guessed. Lily nodded, grimacing.

"They need to invent some way to shut some portraits up," remarked Sirius darkly. James didn't comment, as his mouth was full of muffin. The three boys had their own private feast, complete with a pitcher of pumpkin juice and two platefuls of pastries.

"I see you've managed to reestablish your relationship with the house elves," Lupin said to Potter.

"I don't know why I even bothered to go to breakfast," grumped Lily, plopping herself down on the couch beside James and stealing a crumb from his plate.

"Why darling, did you miss me?" cooed James, wrapping an arm around her ostentatiously.

"No," she said in an adoring voice, reaching around him for a raspberry tart. "They were out of tarts at our end of the table!" she said, biting into her prize with a sigh of ecstasy.

"How sweet of you," Sirius laughed.

"You all missed a look at the new girl," remarked Lupin from his lounging position on the floor.

"I knew you liked her!" cried Lily.

"I don't fancy her, I just thought her behavior was odd," Remus said, completely undisturbed by her accusation and subsequent reaction to his denial. He noted her disappointment with a grin. "Sorry, Lils--no star-crossed romances to gloat over."

"Star-crossed?" asked Peter.

"Transfer student was sorted to Slytherin," Sirius said.

"Maybe Snivellous will find true love," quipped James.

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A few hours later, Hermione was feeling incredibly silly. She'd gone to the library--the mere thought of her intentions made her blush, now--so she could look up the events that happened in the 70's in the books she'd known were there in the 90's. Of course, they weren't there, and even if they had been, they wouldn't have had any information for her anyway. Time travel, she decided, took a more than a few days to get used to.

She cheered herself up by remembering what it was she'd been doing in the library right before her exploration of Dumbledore's office--looking for pictures of the 1977 Quidditch Pitch. Well, no need for pictures now, she thought to herself in satisfaction. Seeing no one in the immediate vicinity, Hermione permitted herself a rare luxury--she ran.

Ron and Harry were definitely right about their suspicions, she saw that the second she got there. There was simply nothing to climb--no trees, no observation tower, no power lines (Hermione's analytical mind added this before she had a chance to really think about it). She walked along, eyes fixed on the airspace that one of the Gryffindors had undoubtedly floated in to take the picture of James. She wondered who it could have been; she couldn't picture Professor (Remus!) Lupin on a broom, but Sirius seemed like a likely choice. She didn't know much about--

Hermione walked right into the person she was thinking of.

"Good Lord, I'm sorry," she said, her eyes widening a bit when she saw who it was. Peter Pettigrew looked slightly winded, having about as much warning as Hermione had--his back had been turned.

"Its nothing," he said, bending over to tie the shoe he'd nearly tripped over when she unbalanced him. "No harm done."

She stood still for a moment watching him, a myriad of emotions washing over her. Had he already begun his terrible work? Was he still deciding? What would tip the scales? Hermione saw movement in the corner of her eye, and looked back up at the spot above them to see what had caused it. There was nothing there.

"Must have been a bird," she muttered to herself. Then, louder, "you're all right, then?"

"No worries," Pettigrew assured her, glancing up nervously at the area she'd been staring at.

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Sirius Black held onto the broom for dear life, having nearly fallen off when the new girl walked blindly into Wormtail. It didn't help that the thing was shaking from Lupin's laughter.

"I told you we're too big to do this anymore," he scolded Moony, to no avail. "I'm sure she saw us, she was staring right at--"

"Are you sure nothing...fell out?" gasped out Remus, as he clutched at the Invisibility Cloak against the sudden wind. The glare he got in response was too much, and he started to laugh in earnest now that the brown-haired girl had wandered off in the other direction.

"Just--" Sirius stopped himself from screaming and continued in a more moderate voice, "just land this thing before my fingers fall off." As soon as the broom reached a safe enough altitude, Sirius let go and dropped onto his back, the landing made worse by the fact that Peter hadn't been expecting to see him fall out of nothingness.

"Tough day for you, eh Wormtail?" he said, laughing as Peter managed a weak smile. Pettigrew chose to ignore this observation.

"Did you get a good look? For the picture, I mean," he asked, referring to the reason they'd been flying under the cloak.

"It'll be perfect," asserted Lupin, as he folded the Invisibility Cloak and tucked it into his bag. "That is," he said with a sly look at Sirius, "if Padfoot doesn't get distracted by...anything."

"Or anyone," laughed Peter, grasping his meaning.

"Anyone I'd like to be distracted by would undoubtedly be attending the match," protested Sirius with a naughty grin. "Besides," he said with a friendly nudge to the werewolf, "you saw her first."

"Peter talked to her first," said Remus, passing the nudge along.

"If I were going to talk to a Slytherin girl, she wouldn't be my first choice," Peter surprised them by saying. "Come on," he said, quickly changing the subject after he saw the speculative looks on his friends' faces, "nearly time to eat."

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Hermione was tempted to skip dinner, but didn't think she was going to be able to last until breakfast--and she certainly couldn't sneak into the kitchen to grab anything to eat. House Elves had long lifespans, and she didn't think they would be able to understand what it would mean, seeing the same exact person twenty years later. The thought of Dobby trying earnestly to explain to her that the House Elves in the castle knew her already--this being years before she stepped into the mirror--well, she'd certainly think he was crazy.

Luckily this time she'd brought a book--the new Charms textbook that had caught her eye last night. Absently chewing on her Shepherd's Pie, she traced out the correct movement with her wand for a defense charm she'd not recognized.

Unexpectedly, the book was yanked out from underneath her hand and the sudden movement had her responding in reflex. Hermione traced out the movement she'd just been practicing and said the incantation for the stinging charm, pleased to see that it worked the first time she tried it. The thief dropped her book with a muffled curse, and she looked up into the steely eyes of Lucius Malfoy.

"That was a foolish thing to do," he snapped at her, rubbing at the new sore spot.

"I would tend to agree," she said coolly, retrieving her book with one hand, while the other still held her wand at the ready. He glared at her, settling himself in the seat opposite her when he realized he was garnering attention from many of the students nearby.

"Studying already?" he said, sneering at the textbook he'd wrested from her, eyes narrowing when he recognized the title. Hermione saw the dawning comprehension and decided to goad him a little.

"Yes--quite some nice defensive charms in there, wouldn't you say?"

He seemed to ignore her words, choosing instead to say in a nasty tone, "Think you should have been in Ravenclaw, eh? Too late for that, isn't it?"

Hermione was confused, but didn't allow herself to show it. What a strange thing to say, she thought, recalling the movement she'd seen at the Slytherin table right before her unfortunate sorting. She filed this new development away to think on later.

"You have a very strange way of advertising your House pride," she said with a quirked eyebrow.

"You as well--attacking your classmates," he said, still holding his injured hand; a red welt started to form on the back of it. Great charm, she thought with satisfaction. The substance of what he'd just accused her with registered, and instead of saying anything, she simply stared at him, evenly. The scrutiny proved to be too much for him, and he stood up and stalked back to his clique, turning his back on her as if the inability to see his face was some sort of punishment.

The apple didn't fall far from the tree, she thought wryly. The new textbook beckoned, however, and she was soon wrapped up in her studies once again.

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The day had one more surprise in store. Hermione chose not to offend her Slytherin classmates by appearing in the common room--no first years were there, either, and she seriously wondered if it was a rule or terror that kept them away. The space was certainly not the comfortable, homey place it was in the Gryffindor Tower. As she started down the steps to the girls' dormitories, she wondered what kind of deterrent was in place to prevent the boys' entry. As amusing as the thought was of Lucius Malfoy sliding down a sudden slope of steps ala Ron Weasley, she knew it wouldn't work here--here, the stairs went down, not up. She shrugged. It was probably something horrible like electrocution or transfiguration.

If it was the latter, she sincerely hoped that it chose a white ferret for the entire Malfoy clan.

Upon entering the Seventh Year dorm, she immediately registered that something had changed. The beds seemed to be closer together than this morning, and her bed--Hermione did a quick turn to verify that it was missing, and found the bed and all her new belongings by themselves in a corner nearest the door. A large gap of space existed between it and the next nearest bed, as though the girls she'd met this morning wanted her to think she was contagious or something.

Hermione laughed out loud. The snobbish Slytherin Seventh Years had punished themselves by limiting their own space, just to make her feel like an outsider? They needn't have bothered, she thought derisively, not that I'll tell THEM that. If they wanted to give her extra breathing room, that was fine with her.

The short, girl named Olive popped her scarf-clad head into the room just then. Hermione assumed it was to gauge her reaction to their little prank. The slightly sheepish and apologetic look on her face told Hermione that she was most likely not the ringleader of this little stunt.

"Good evening," Hermione said, jutting her chin out slightly and correcting her posture to assert her inner strength.

"Oh," said Olive in a small voice, as if she'd expected Hermione to yell at her. "How are you...liking it...here..." she trailed off, looking over guiltily at Hermione's things piled on her bed in the corner.

"Just fine," Hermione said, changing her mind about the way she was going to react. "I thought I was going to have to ask for more room." She turned her back on Olive and started to arrange her clothes in the trunk. Hermione heard a very soft-spoken 'oh,' from the other girl but didn't turn to acknowledge it. She refused to allow herself to get upset at this new development--after all, she had no particular attachment to any of the items in this room, barring her schoolwork. That she could take with her everywhere, and often did, anyway.
Hermione decided to go to sleep early. She had no intention of giving each of her Slytherin classmates the satisfaction of seeing her reaction to their prank, one by one. Besides, if this was to be indicative of her experience in Slytherin, she would need her rest.