Dangerous Games

Chapter 3: On the Hogwarts Express Again, or for the first time, or... oh never mind.

"Come on," Ivory Shannen cried excitedly. "You'll like Hogwarts, Charlotte. Missy, my older sister, loved it, and the Transfiguration teacher, Professor Dumbledore, is my great-uncle, and well, you'll know what he's like when we get there, and... hey!" A laughing Slytherin bumped into her as he clambered into the massive scarlet train, his silver and green scarf trailing behind him.

"Don't mind him, Ivory," Hermione reassured the little first-year, "he's a Slytherin. They're all gits like that."

Ivory stared at Hermione in confusion. Then, "Oh, yeah, I keep forgetting you have the Sight. So that's how you know about the Houses. Okay."

Hermione smiled inwardly at the irony. She would have to tell Harry about her new 'Inner Eye.' It would be a good disguise for any event of the future that might slip from her tongue.

Mrs. Shannen grinned. "Now, Ivory, don't forget to owl me. And Charlotte, I hope you will be... fine here."

"Thank you, Mrs. Shannen," Hermione said. "And thank you for boarding me for two weeks. I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

"Oh, no inconvenience at all, dear. Go on, both of you. Have a good time!" Mrs. Shannen left the platform, and Hermione and Ivory boarded the train.

Hermione put a hand on Ivory's shoulder. "I think I'll seek out a compartment for myself, if you don't mind, Ivory."

Ivory giggled, reminding Hermione very much of Lavender Brown. "That's all right. I'll look for a compartment, too." The little, bubbly girl began running through the train aisles.

Hermione shook her head, remembering her own first year. Taking a deep breath, she prepared herself to integrate into this new (or old; sheesh, time is confusing) society.

She slid open the first compartment door to see a gaggle of sixth- and seventh-year girls and one boy near the window, looking at the sweeping landscape. The boy had tousled black hair.

"Harry?" Hermione said hopefully.

The boy turned around, a Head Boy badge glinting on his robes next to a Slytherin crest.

"What did you call me?" the boy asked civilly.

Hermione's head dropped. "I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else."

"You called me Harry?" the boy said, squinting his eyes curiously.

"Yes. But I was obviously mistaken."

"You had hoped I would be him though, didn't you?" the boy concluded from scrutinising observation.

"Never mind. He was at my old school."

"Ahhh," the boy murmured, "a transfer student then. Hope to see you in my House. Slytherin, you know."

"Yes, I know," Hermione replied, almost snarling, "but you wouldn't care for me. I'm Muggle-born, you know."

One of the girls nearest the door sneered. "Why don't you leave then, Mudblood?"

"Pleasure," Hermione sniffed. She slammed the compartment door with a satisfying crash that landed on the Slytherin girl's finger. The yelp of pain more than compensated for the 'Mudblood.'

Hermione was going to open another compartment door when the one she had shut before opened, and the boy's head popped out.

"Even Mudbloods can be accepted into Slytherin," the boy said.

Hermione faced the boy squarely, "I don't want to be in Slytherin."

The boy grinned languidly. "Pity. So many opportunities in Slytherin. So much power you could have."

"I can reach my potential just fine in Gryffindor, thank you," Hermione said coolly.

The boy cocked his eyebrow. "A shame, really. The magicking community loses more great wizards and witches to Gryffindor than to any other House."

"What does Slytherin" -she spat the name- "have that Gryffindor doesn't?"

"No limitations or inhibitions," the boy replied promptly. He shrugged. "But if you really insist on Gryffindor, Gryffindor is what you'll likely be."

Hermione turned on her heel, but she was stopped again by the boy, who by now had stepped completely into the aisle. He was tall and thin, with pensive, intelligent dark eyes and a thin mouth. He was very good-looking, but he was emitting an aura of intimidation and power, and Hermione began backing away.

"By the way, I'm Head Boy, so we'll probably meet again under tenser circumstances. I might as well introduce myself now before you are tainted by Gryffindor."

A little late for that," Hermione thought wryly.

The boy held out his hand with a slight smile.

"I'm Tom Riddle."

~888~

...nothing but a door on the lower storey and a blind forehead of discoloured wall on the upper; and bore in every feature, the marks of prolonged and sordid negligence. The door, which was equipped with neither bell nor knocker, was blistered and distained. Tramps slouched into the recess and struck matches on the panels; children kept shop upon the steps; the school-boy had tried his knife on the mouldings; and for close on a generation, no one had appeared to drive away these random visitors or to repair their ravages...

---

...And hitherto it was his ignorance of Mr. Hyde that had swelled his indignation; now, by a sudden turn, it was his knowledge. It was already bad enough when the name was but a name of which he could learn no more. It was worse when it began to be clothed upon with detestable attributes; and out of the shifting, insubstantial mists that had so long baffled his eye, there leaped up the sudden, definite presentment of a fiend...

-Robert Louis Stevenson, DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE

~888888~

Chapter 4: The Sorting... "Are you sure?"

"We have two transfers this year," Professor Dippet announced after the formal Sorting. "First, Karkaroff, Igor."

A thin, ratty boy sauntered to the Hat, sat on the stool, and placed the hat on his head.

"Slytherin!" the Hat bellowed.

The Slytherin table erupted into cheers, and the boy who Hermione recognised as the later Headmaster of Durmstrang swaggered to the noisy table smugly.

Professor Dippet nodded respectfully, then looked at Hermione, and called out, "Shannen, Charlotte."

Hermione confidently approached the Hat and watched the Hall disappear under tattered cloth.

"Well, well, apparently I've seen you before in my future and your past; very interesting indeed. You seem a bit old for Hogwarts, eighteen, but that's the Time-Turner... well... Head Girl in Gryffindor, I believe... yes... you've changed some since I last saw you. You prefer solitude and scholarly time; you still have that Gryffindor courage. But you've also developed a devious spirit that might flourish in Slytherin. Are you sure you don't want to be in Slytherin? You're thinking out of old prejudices. Maybe you should consider what is behind that noble House: Riddle enlightened you well about what Slytherin is, letting yourself free, allowing your power to blossom without anything holding you back... You are curious about everything, and Slytherin would help you there, no doubt about it... You've been suppressed in Gryffindor you think... That sparks your curiosity, doesn't it, Hermione?"

She reluctantly admitted her interest was piqued. She remembered that Tom Marvolo Riddle was a prefect, then Head Boy, top in his class, "probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen." With the memory of what Harry had relayed to her after the incident with the basilisk came a sharp pang of jealousy and competition.

"Yes, a thirst to prove your power, your intelligence. Well... keep in mind that you don't have to limit your friends exclusively to your House. Gryffindor!"

Hermione lifted the Sorting Hat from her head and went to the Gryffindor table with a withdrawn confusion. This time, she was not sure whether or not to be excited or disappointed at the Sorting Hat's decision.

Unwittingly, her eyes drifted to the Slytherin table. Riddle was staring at her as well, sombre and calculating. Then, he turned to the girl next to him, breaking eye contact.

"Glad you're here, Charlotte," said a rather pretty, raven-haired witch with a Head Girl badge next to her Gryffindor crest. "I'm Minerva McGonagall."

A few awkward seconds passed before Hermione could stop gaping at this laid-back witch that seemed to be a long mile from the stiff, strict, straight Professor McGonagall she knew. But then Hermione was distracted as Professor Dippet stood.

"Yes, yes, another year. And congratulations to our new Head Boy and Girl, Tom Riddle from Slytherin" -Hermione looked up at Dumbledore, who appeared less than pleased with the appointment- "and Minerva McGonagall from Gryffindor." The Gryffindors and Slytherins glared at each other over the Ravenclaws who divided the two House tables. "As always," Dippet continued, "the Forbidden Forest is as its name suggests, and Hogsmeade is also forbidden to anyone below third year. But now, the feast!"

Hermione grinned at the food appearing on her plate, just like before (or after).

A chicken leg flew over Hermione's head into a red-haired boy's soup, splashing him with carrots and broth.

Minerva turned around sharply. "Ten points from Ravenclaw, Percival!"

Hermione's mouth dropped open again. "Peeves?"

Sure enough, a flesh-and-blood Peeves sat cackling at a boisterous side of the Ravenclaw table.

"Ah, come on, Minnie, old girl," said the messy clown of a boy, "can't you have any fun?"

"When the fun is at someone else's expense, Percival, no, I cannot," Minerva snapped loftily.

Suddenly, a blood-spattered ghost popped his head out of the Slytherin table and glided over to where Peeves sat.

"I'll be seeing you soon," the Bloody Baron murmured. Then he disappeared. Peeves had become momentarily speechless, his face frozen in shock.

"Peeves is a Ravenclaw?" Hermione gasped.

"I know," Minerva sniffed. "He'd fit in better with the Slytherins the way he disturbs the peace."

Hermione sat back, mentally thanking the gods she was never Sorted into Ravenclaw, and snagged a small meat pie. She wondered who she would see next.

"Charlotte," came a shy voice from behind her, "could I, I mean, do yeh mind if I sit here?"

"Hagrid!" Hermione exclaimed. "No, of course, sit down."

The floor shook a little, and Hermione needed to hold her goblet before it tipped, but she was rewarded by Hagrid's regaling of the teachers and grounds and a few short cuts that he had found. He was a bit embarrassed to admit he was expelled, but Hermione whispered in his ear that she knew he was innocent. Hagrid's smile sans beard was brighter than the sun on a summer day, and Hermione thought for a moment she was back at home.

When everyone had finished the last treacle tart, they stumbled off, warm and content, to their common rooms. The Gryffindor common room looked just like she remembered it. She half-expected Harry and Ron to tumble down the stairs, laughing, telling her it was all a clever prank. But when her old friends did not come, she finally realized where she was.

"Wha's the matter, Charlotte?" Hagrid asked as two hot tears sparkled on her cheeks.

Hermione shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I'm homesick." She rushed up the stairs to her dormitory.

Both Minerva and Hagrid looked at each other and shrugged.

~888888~

Yes, I know that Percival is Percy's name as well, but it's sort of ironic, isn't it?

A short couple of chapters, but I'll get more involved.

Thanx to all my reviewers. I hadn't expected to get anything good, but it's nice to know there are so many Jekyll & Hyde fans out there with me.