8So I will not be re-writing the entire book(s). Just the parts I deem necessary. I will, however, be referencing what is going on, obviously, in their lives. I could ramble about how I'm going to do it, but I figure you just want to read it.
Also, I do not, and will never own Harry Potter. If you thought I did then you are very wrong.
Hermione sat on her bed, her eyes drooping as she laid her head back against the soft pillow that her tower had provided.
All the girls in the dormitory were finding there stuff and getting to their bed for sleep, but Hermione was already laying on her bed worn out.
Giggles were drifting about the room, and one highly annoying voice rang in Hermione's ears as she blabbered on.
Hermione cracked an eye open, staring at the girl with dark brown curls and a face that looked as if it was pinched- what was her name- It reminded her of sort-of bland colors... Lavender Brown! Yes, that was it.
Hermione flinched at her short moment of memory loss. She hoped this didn't happen in class tomorrow, she didn't want everyone to think she was stupid.
The voice of the girl (Lavender Brown) rang out still, it was too loud for her to go to sleep, it pained Hermione slightly that she would be sharing a room with this loud mouth. She hoped she didn't talk in her sleep. Now that would be a pain.
"Could you be a bit more quiet please, Lavender?" Hermione said, turning onto her side feeling extreamly tired.
She heard an indignant puff from the other side of the room where Lavender Brown was standing, "Ugh, the nerve." she heard her voice (trying yet failing to be quiet, her voice carried), "Who does she think she is? I don't even know her name! What- is she going to sleep in her robes?! How disgusting!" the comments of Lavender Brown continued on, and Hermoine felt something inside of her rise up, something close to the anger that had aroused her accidental magic that had gotten her here.
It was the same feeling she got when the mean people on the play ground had taunted her with mean words, and taken her book and torn it to shreds (as that had happened on more than one occasion).
It was the feeling she had gotten when she had been on the play ground and while everyone else seemed to have a friend to play with- Hermione was left sitting with her back propped up against the wired fencing of her school with a book clutched firmly in her hands. As much as she tried to tell herself that she was okay with that (and to an extent she was okay with being alone) there was a sort of dreadful feeling that came with isolation, and it was then that Hermione realized that she might have already dug that hole for herself again.
This startled her. Shook her, and shook her on the bed, this emotion of desperation- everyone else in the girls dormitory had already seemed to group off into there little clicks. Their groups, and Hermione was once again left, alone.
She shook her head physically now, no, no. She must be over-reacting. It was far to early to be thinking like that.
She still had chances to form bonds with her roommates, and just to show that Lavander Brown that she was a decent lady, Hermione got up to change out of her school robes and into her night gown.
She opened her trunk, reaching blindly in the dark (there was very little light in the room, as it was very late into the night) and her hand brushed against a hard surface.
She started. She hadn't packed a book at the top of her bags, all of that had been in a separate trunk, one that was not with her dress robes. It was with all of her favorite books, the school books needed for this year, and Hogwarts A History.
This book, in her robes trunk, didn't feel anything like her books that she had packed. It felt leather bound, with something akin to metal sticking out of it, but it wasn't an intimidating metal. It was more a soft metal, a comforting type of metal that swirled in patterns around the book. It felt sort of like a journal.
Maybe Mum Or Papa packed a gift for me. She shrugged, taking the book and shifting it to the side of her trunk and felt around for the soft fabric of her nightgown.
Once that was found she smiled gently to herself, and made a quick thing of changing before pulling the book back out and moving to her bed.
She had looked up spells in the books she had gotten, and she could remember one- about bringing light to the tip of your wand. She struggled to think of it for a second, and finally the name came to her head.
She smiled and picked up her wand (she had placed it on the table beside her bed) and waved it a little in front of her, whispering, "lumos," a light flickered on the tip of her wand, tiny, small, and didn't really help anything because it was so dim (but she did do a spell!) and then it flickered out.
She had a moment where she felt triumphant, before she felt a bit defeated that she couldn't hold it for more than a second.
She tried again, "Lumos." and with a wave of her wand a brighter light lit up in front of her. She grinned as it stayed, and stared at the book before her.
Usually, when Hermione Granger found a book- she dug in immediately, but this time she found herself simply staring.
The cover was a beautiful color. It was the dark red (almost crimson she supposed) color of her house- Gryffindor.
There was gold metal alligning the edges, swirls reaching towards the middle where the symbol of her house was, the lion. The spine was leather bound, and along the edge of the spine was her name scrawled (was that in her handwriting?) Hermione Granger.
Looking at it she could almost feel (nay, smell) the magic in the book. It was like the smell when you got a brand new book from the book store, except with a different twinge of something else. Her heart pounded in her chest this was the magic she had longed for for all these years.
"Will you turn that off?" the squeaky, annoying voice of Lavender Brown echoed through the room, and another girl groaned in response as if to second that motion.
Hermione felt a bit embarressed but didn't let it show on her face as she allowed the light to flicker away from her wand and murmured a quiet sorry, before she laid down her new book and wand on the table beside her bed.
She knew it was a journal now, and simply could not wait to start recording her adventures in it.
Draco Malfoy sat on his new bed, it was pressed up against the window- he was especially excited because his mother had said that that was one of the best beds you could get, one of the ones by the window, because you could look at the fish swimming in the pool. It was like what muggles would call an aquarium, and Draco loved fish, and had even suffered a brutal lashing of both words and physical blows after begging his dad to actually take him to one of the muggle aquariums. This obviously had not happened.
Draco smiled superiourly and leaned back resting his head against the windows cold comfort. This was perfect. He had made into slytherin, and despite his seeming confidence he hadn't been quite so confident as he had let on. He had been scared that the hat would yell out something stupid like Hufflepuff, or worse (his father would've killed him if this had been the case) Gryffindor. He'd even had an odd nightmare where he had somehow managed to get in both of those houses.
He could hear Crabbe and Goyle bickering amongst themselves, about what he wasn't sure, but he was able to tune them out.
The only problem there had really been with the day, he supposed, was Potter.
He cringed, what a fine chance at an amazing alliance thrown down the drain. He didn't figure he would have gotten on with Potter, anyway, now that he really thought about it, they were both polar opposites.
He was hanging out with sorts like Weasley, willingly even, and wouldn't except good help when it came to him. He didn't know a good thing when it came to him, he had been raised by his mum's relatives- muggles, which would have been almost like being friends with a muggle-born. Ew. No. No.
Yes, it was very good that he wasn't friends with Potter. They wouldn't have gotten on.
That didn't take away from the mortification of being rejected by him, it was embarrassing, and he didn't really take embarrassment well.
He was only lucky that it didn't happen in front of anyone other than Weasley, Crabbe, and Goyle. He didn't care about the opinion of Weasley, and Crabbe and Goyle were as loyal to him as two trained dogs. All this being said, if someone wasn't for you, then by definition they were against you. Especially if they embarrassed you, and to others in the school might seem to be a powerful wizard.
If he could beat the powerful wizard, even if no one else knew about it, that made him better.
Fire sparked inside of him, he would beat Potter, and he would best him.
There was no doubt in his mind, he was superior to Potter- he had been raised in a wizarding house and simply by that gave him a head start.
He grinned, pleased with himself as if he had already won some competition, because he would win.
Now, he groggily stood up from his bed and made his way to his trunk to find sleeping robes.
The trunk opened smoothly, and his eyes were immediately drawn to a large book in the middle of his trunk. It sat on top of all of his robes, and his eyes narrowed. He definitely hadn't put that there.
It was very unlike his parents to leave him a gift (in fact if he had thought about it he would have been able to piece together that between him shoving things into his trunk last minute and his parents never actually helping with his trunk there was no way they would have been able to put the journal in the trunk) but he was grateful.
It was a beautiful looking journal, elegant, but more in a simple way. It was a simple green color (the color of his house) with gold-colored binding (he assumed it was leather) and a snake was coiled on the cover. He picked it up and turned it in his hands, looking at the spine- and on the spine was his name shiny green against gold, Draco Malfoy.
He quickly changed into his night robe and then laid in bed (now it seemed Crabe and Goyle were winding down, only murmuring to each other in hushed tones while shoving any remaining food they had snuck into the room into their mouths). "Leave the candle lit, Crabe, Goyle. I'm doing something." He snapped at them when one of them went to blow out the candle.
Their stupid, slow voice found it's way to his ears, "Sorry, Malfoy."
Draco found himself beneath his covers, with a quill in his hand (wet with ink) stairing at a blank page before reaching down and writing on the top September 1st, 1991 . It was handwriting that aspired to be Calligraphy.
He grinned, someday when he was a dad, instead of having to waste time on telling his kid how his Hogwarts experience was, maybe he could just give him this. Or maybe, he would look back on this and remember himself.
Journaling was a great idea, he could reflect and remember. It was nice.
Where to start?
He grinned and put his quill to the paper, only pausing to dip his quill in the ink by his stand again.
When he was done, this is what it read.
This morning I was really nervous about leaving home, but I would never tell anyone that, because Father has told me that Malfoy's don't get scared or nervous. I had to act like a man. When mother and me said goodbye, I very much wanted to give her a hug, but father said that Malfoy's aren't to show emotion to others, and so I simply said goodbye to her. So far I think I'm doing very good following father's rules.
There was one slip up I had while talking to The Boy Who Lived (yeah, Harry Potter, I don't quite like him actually) as when I offered him my help, he said he didn't need it. It was embarrassing actually, and I think he could tell. I think my face got red. How Humiliating!
Anyway, the rest of the ride was pleasent, I got the compartment I wanted on the train (the one towards the front so that I could be the first off) and I only got out of that for a minute to go talk to Potter.
I was really nervous, really really really really, nervous for the sorting ceremony. I know all the other kids were too, but I was really nervous. I mean, I'm pretty sure father would disown me if I didn't make Slytherin.
I did, of course, and I think everyone thought that I knew I was going to make it. I really didn't. It was weird considering the hat didn't even touch my head. It just brushed my hair, and didn't even sit on my head.
I got the bed I wanted too. The bed by the window, where you can see the fish swimming by. It's so pleasant, I've already seen some fish, and I can't wait to see more. It's like an aquarium.
I guess that's my day.
-Draco Malfoy
He smiled, very content with his entry, and after giving the ink a few moments to dry, closed the book and went to bed.
Hermione grinned happily as she came back to her room after her first day of Wizarding. Could that be used as an verb? She was Wizarding? Her father sometimes used the word Wizard to describe something that was cool, so she couldn't see why it couldn't be a verb.
She walked up the stairs to her room, she had managed to impress all of her teachers with her extensive knowledge of everything they were going over (she supposed reading the books three times before showing up helped) and she didn't feel like she was behind at all. She felt like she was ahead.
As it was the first day of school there had been no homework handed out other than the reading of the night, and Hermione had already gotten a lot of that done while reading at lunch.
Neville (the only person who she really hung out with) didn't appreciate it when she shoved a text book under the table and opted to read instead of talk to people, but it was what she preferred.
Now, all the classes were over, and she had a load of free time on her hands. She supposed she could re-read the indicated passages in the books.
Or she could take a look at that journal again. She could make an entry for today and yesterday.
She grinned at this thought, and reached over to grab it, along with a quill and some ink, and walked to the common room, settling at a random desk, to begin her entry.
She opened the cover and-
What? She squinted oddly at the paper in front of her. There was childish writing on the page (though it was handwriting that was on it's way to becoming very fancy one day, she could tell) and it was an entry as if it were someone else's journal.
She read it, ( pausing to reel in something akin to shock or possibly anger at We're not to show emotion to others) and it was just like a Journal. The date read yesterday, and the only odd thing was that there was no signature.
Maybe her luggage had gotten mixed up with someone else's? Maybe just the journal got confused and somehow ended up in her trunk?
No, she flipped the book close and looked at the spine once more- Hermione Granger. Yes, yes. This was hers.
She ran her tongue along her lips, wetting them, and felt an overwhelming curiousity welling up inside of her.
This person said they were in Slytherin, there's no way that a Slytherin couldn't come up from the dungeons, which she knew the location of thanks to Hogwarts A History, take her journal, write in it, and return it. Not without far to many complications.
There was something else, too. Some of the spacing in the words wasn't... normal. For example Father has told me that we don't... There was odd spacing there. And it was always on the word we.
Hermione contemplated for a moment, trying to decide what to do, before she finally dipped her quill in ink and began to write, write as if this was only her journal.
Yesterday was very Chaotic for me. I was already packed in the morning, but it took Mama and Papa a while to find out where platform 9 three quarters was. It was quite a journey, and we managed to get there on time.
I was very pleased with the house I got. It was my first choice, and I feel I will fit in here.
I don't seem to be behind in any of the classes (thank God) . I actually seem to be ahead, I guess that's what I get for reading all the textbooks at least three times before school even starts. I can't wait to actually start school and learn more spells. To become a better Witch.
I've done a few practice spells and all of them have gone perfectly smooth.
It's a wonder, this entire school. It's so very magical.
-Hermione Granger
Despite her best efforts her hand writing looked like shite next to whoever else had written in her journal.
She found it odd that she wasn't very detailed in her Journal, but if someone was reading it (someone she didn't know, probably in Slytherin unless this was some practical joke) she didn't want them seeing personal thoughts of her own.
Suddenly, the journal seemed to glow, on the page before the one she was on (she had actually been unaware that there was one).
She stared baffled, and turned the page.
It continued to glow gold, and Hermione had to squint to even make out an outline of a paper, when it slowly started to dim. The glow was becoming confined to a small glow in tiny elegant letters.
Hermione Granger,
You have been given this book by Hogwarts Castle, founded by Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff, and Rowna Ravenclaw.
When the school was first founded things went well for the first few years before the house founders got in an argument, would they let Muggle-borns attend their school?
Salazar Slytherin was adamant that they should not be allowed in the school, and when the other three founders refused to budge on their standpoint he eventually left.
Unfortunately, this has left in it's path conflict between houses. This started out mostly between Gryffindor and Slytherin, but has escalated to all houses, and had escalated to all houses before the founders had even passed on.
This made the three remaining founders decide to do something about this, so they began to try to promote Unity among the four houses of the school. Most, if not all, of the methods used worked except the one you currently hold in your hands.
This book has been passed through the hands of a few hundred children, along with it's counterpart. There have been friendships formed through these books.
What are these books exactly? In another part of the castle, another person holds the counterpart, and this person has been picked especially for you to be your friend.
This will be hard, we do not doubt this, but stick with the person who holds the counterpart to this book. He is a very stubborn being, but is in just as much need of a friend as you yourself are currently.
Through the seven years of Hogwarts you will be here, we trust you to try and make a difference, and with most who hold this book they are given the challenge of making friends with the counterpart. With you, Hermione, we expect more. The person who has the counterpart desperately needs someone to steer them the right way, and it will take time and patience. We can assure you though, if you are kind and patient, then a difference will be made, and you will make a friend that will last forever.
There is some information, things such as your name, that will be withheld from the other until we feel the time is right.
Patience is key. Remember this.
Give him time.
Best of luck.
-The Hogwarats House
Hermione stared at the large book on the desk in front of her. Everyone else in the commons room didn't seem to notice that the book had been glowing, all going about their business with a low murmur.
Suddenly there was a faint glow on the page. Just a very faint glow at the top, and then words appeared.
Hello?
It was the writing from the previous entry. The writing was childishly elegant. Hermione stared, her heart stuttering in her chest. Wasn't this what you came here for? she asked herself To experience something magical? While that reasoning wasn't the best, her hand still found itself scrawling onto the page.
Hello.
A/n: Thank you for reading. I would love to hear what you think.