10 Poor Hermione!

As the late evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow across the bustling King's Cross Station in London, it was time for students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to make their way to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

Families and students moved through the station's bustling crowds, some dressed in traditional wizarding robes while others wore Muggle attire to blend in with the non-magical world, sporting trunks and cages filled with magical creatures were wheeled or levitated along with them. I was capped in a shimmering black cloak, the material being made from Acromantula silk, as my mother personally charmed it, making the glow almost radiate. My silk dark grey tanktop went well with my black trousers. My mother nodded in approval, muttering about looking like my father as she told me to try different ones to see how I looked. She eventually opted for the muggle/wizard approach, which was fine by me. I'll make sure to ask her about him when I return. The poor woman clearly gets a little distraught after mentioning him.

The platform itself was obviously hidden from the view of Muggle onlookers, concealed behind a solid brick wall. But for those who knew the way, it was a matter of approaching the barrier between platforms nine and ten with confidence. With a brisk, determined walk, students and their families would pass through the seemingly impenetrable wall, vanishing from sight as if swallowed by the station's facade.

The platform was bathed in the soft, supernatural glow of magical lanterns that hung overhead, casting warm, flickering light on the gleaming crimson of the Hogwarts Express. The magnificent steam train stood there, billowing white plumes of steam, its carriages polished to perfection. My mother packed the suitcase. It stood in stark contrast to the heavy-looking trunks and modest-sized cages of familiars that other students were lugging, creatures in desperate need of respite in the outside world. With trembling hands, she cupped my cheeks, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and uttered a single word, heavy with emotion.

"Go."

I locked my gaze with hers, the deep pools of her eyes mirroring my own. Tenderly, I reached up to caress her soft face, sharing a smile that conveyed all I could. The distant sound of the train's urgent roar reminded us that it had only about ten minutes left before departing.

Reluctantly, I began to let go of my mother, feeling her fingers slowly release their hold on me as well.

With one final glance, we parted ways, knowing that this separation was only temporary.

The hustle and bustle of students reuniting with friends and saying their farewells to family members filled the air with an enthusiastic but somber energy. Owls hooted from their cages, and cats and toads nestled comfortably in their carriers.

I quietly made my way to the door, a bombastic lady with fiery red hair holding a long and dirty mouse, yelling at her son to not lose him. I quickly recognized one of the trio. Smiling, I took a final look at my mother and embarked on the journey onwards.

The Hogwarts Express prepared to depart on its journey to the magical castle in the Scottish Highlands.

There are no seats anywhere! I was starting to get annoyed, bobbing and weaving through armies of children, trying to at least get my foot in a cart before being told that there were no spaces.

Accompanied by weird looks and intense stares from the upperclassmen, I never forgot the amusing looks that the young witches gave me. Straight up a protagonist rundown, I guess. Even Harry had to deal with this to some degree.

Walking the hall of the car, I caught sight of the familiar feminine finger of brown hair. Her locks floated as they cascaded down her back, Surely reminding me of my mothers, as I already was feeling homesick because of the woman.

'Mama's boy' I heard her say.

I take that back.

Reaching out my hand to gently touch her shoulder, she appeared visibly startled before she turned around.

She was... cute. I don't want to be insensitive, I mean, It's a 14-year-old girl, what was I expecting? Prime Emma Watson? The girl widened her eyes, a loss for words for some reason. Did I get my tone wrong? Hopefully, I didn't say it too weirdly.

"Umm, I would like to know if there were any empty carts? The ones I've been to are filled". I asked, the girl still looking at me awkwardly, her furrowed brows puzzled, but also nodding slowly.

[Hermione]

It had undeniably been a peculiar day so far. From my unexpected encounter with Harry at the Leaky Cauldron to the unsettling news of Sirius Black on the loose, and now the arrival of a new student at Hogwarts.

New students were a rarity at Hogwarts, as the school typically admitted those starting from the very beginning of their magical education.

I had been about to search for a trolley to stock up on snacks for the train ride when this boy approached me, seeking some kind of assistance.

He was remarkably easy on the eyes if you catch my drift. Such sights were a rarity in my life, Only imagining and seeing things in books or commercials, but given that most of the boys I met were either fervent Muggle supremacists or wholly absorbed in their studies and I, well, leaning toward the latter category, I was never in a situation quite like this.

His attractiveness was like something out of a dream—a dream I hadn't known I'd had until that moment. His light blue eyes were like two pools of sky, each harboring fluffy, miniature clouds. His jawline, striking and mature beyond his years, gave him an air of sophistication that only made him more alluring.

And then there was his height, an advantage he wielded effortlessly. It was as though he was on the verge of growing even more, promising to reach greater heights in the future, though you could tell he was still our age. But it was his hair that truly set him apart. Pure white, those long dreadlocks that were tied up as they cascaded down. It framed his face like an ethereal halo, and his long, white lashes and brows mirrored this starry effect. I couldn't help but catch a small glimpse of a tattoo riding up his neck, two black lines jutting just from his collarbone.

His brown skin was smooth, and it radiated a healthy, natural glow that seemed to come from within. He was more than just attractive; he was like a living work of art, a masterpiece painted by a divine hand.

I quoted one of the adventure fantasy books I read when I was a little girl.

"Maybe beautiful wasn't the word. He exuded a kind of charismatic pheromone . . . A physical and emotional heat that clouded her mind and left her breathless."

My heart couldn't help but flutter.

"Ummm. Yeah!.. Yeah! we have a free occupance over here. Just follow me." I exclaimed, my voice trembling at execution. The boy beamed at me, his smile making me feel weird.

Why do I feel so... strange? The boy spoke again, clearly bewildered by my stupid behavior.

"Thank you for this, what'd you say your name was?" He inquired, his voice graceful and resigned.

"Hermione. Hermione Granger," I said meekly.

[Harry]

The Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, found himself in a peculiar predicament. He was both thrilled and eager to share the latest developments regarding the criminal Sirius Black with his friends, but a new distraction had emerged.

A blue-eyed, white-haired teenager had entered, accompanied by Harry's bushy- brown-haired friend in hot pursuit. Harry's other companion, Ron Weasley, sat beside him, sharing in the bafflement caused by the newcomer's arrival.

To the duo, the white-haired boy's face appeared unnaturally perfect, and it wasn't the kind of perfection that made them question their own preferences. In fact, it unnerved young Ron to the point of voicing his discomfort.

"Hermione! Don't tell me you've gone mad and gotten boy-crazy over the holiday!" Ron blurted out, The white-haired teen made an awkward expression. Damn, Ron! That was a bit rude don't you think? He thought as he sighed in resignation. "Blunt as always huh?" He stated.

Hermione blushed deeply, resembling a ripe tomato, her teeth gritting in a mix of anger and embarrassment. The white-haired boy, however, seemed unfazed by Ron's comment, offering a hearty laugh as he patted Hermione's back reassuringly. Her vulnerability gave way to determination as she stomped her foot and, in a moment of accidental magic, unleashed a burst of uncontrolled power that flared her brown hair, briefly illuminating the cart.

"No!" Hermione exclaimed, her voice trembling with indignation. "He said there were no more carts! I just wanted him to avoid spending half an hour of the trip searching for an empty..."

Hermione paused dramatically before declaring, "Seat!" The force of her kick caused Ron to yelp in pain, holding his shin.

"Oww, Harry! She's gone mental!" Ron whined, nursing his throbbing shin, while Harry couldn't help but snort loudly, the white-haired enigma laughing with him. Maybe he isn't so bad...

[Yumi]

It was actually cute how she behaved around me. I guess my appearance really is an oddity in this world even by wizard standards. This just makes me all the more interested in what my father looked like, as I assume people blessed with magic grow up to be extremely attractive. No doubt Ollivander was a handsome lad in his younger years, no homo. And my mom spoke for herself.

"Are you alright, mate?" Ron's concerned voice brought me back from my thoughts.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," I replied, shaking off my stupor. "I was just lost in thought for a moment."

I joined Hermione as she settled down, having already put my suitcase in a baggage cart. She expressed her apologies for her earlier behavior and inquired about my name, making it clear that she wasn't too fond of Ron. Ron, in turn, couldn't hide his chagrin at her statement.

"No worries," I chuckled. "I'm Yumiranj Concordia. Nice to meet you. I have to admit, though, I didn't introduce myself earlier when I asked for your name, hehe."

I then gestured toward Harry and Ron, The raven-haired boy uttered a greeting with a smile, "I'm Harry!" While Ron next pointed at himself, puffing his chest in pride. "Ron Weasely. Your eyes are weird, mate!"

But all three were seemingly so interested that I didn't know the blue-eyed boy's name. They seemed to initiate a double-take. Asking me for my name again, and to my amazement, both Hermione and Ron reacted with expressions of astonishment. Ron was the first to speak up.

"Concordia!? Are you related to Aesira Concordia by any chance?" he exclaimed, causing my eyebrows to shoot up in confusion.

"Yeah, that's my mother. How do you know her?" I asked, genuinely intrigued. Mother is in the lore? That's got to be funny.

The two of them exchanged surprised glances before Hermione launched into a description of my mother that sounded like something out of legend.

"Of course, we know her! You mean she never told you? The Queen of Charms, The Mistress of Fate, Ring any bell? One of the wizards capable of contending with Dumbledore himself actually. I read it in a book about Magic History." Hermione said matter-of-factly.

My mother had always been a bit mysterious, but I hadn't realized she was held in such high regard in the wizarding world. I scratched my head, laughing nervously. "Well, I did notice some wizards in Diagon Alley looking at her strangely, but she hasn't really shared much with me yet. I've only just started learning about magic, you see."

I could see the nervous glances exchanged between Harry and Ron in response to my revelation. My connection to Aesira Concordia was more significant than I had initially thought. Should I be worried? I knew she was hiding something, and it had to be along these lines, but I never could have thought she would be THIS well-known. Being the son or a daughter (especially a daughter) of a powerful individual always spelled out trouble. I could make an educated guess of where she would be on the power hierarchy, but she couldn't possibly be there for me all the time and forever.

"It's alright Yumiranj. We can go to the library so I can show you! Well, as soon as you're sorted that is." Hermione smiled, her cheeks reminding me of cherries. Aww, she has a little crush. I guess I'll take her up on her offer. "Please, call me Yumi. And I would love to" smiling back.

The train ride began rather calmly, the Hogwarts Express gliding smoothly along the tracks with an almost supernatural ease. Knowing the brown-haired girl had some answers, I couldn't help but chalk it up to magic, knowing she would go off on a tangent. I wisely decided to save my questions for later.

Harry proved to be the epitome of kindness, and we delved into discussions about our respective home lives. I was particularly curious about the lightning bolt scar on his forehead, a mark that had become emblematic of his fame in the books.

Speaking of books, I was joining the story in book three, while Harry shared a remarkably hilarious tale of blowing up his aunt like an oversized, obese balloon—an act he had in this universe, intentionally committed. He explained that he had been practicing wandless magic under the radar, as the Ministry of Magic couldn't track it. We both broke into laughter, Harry thinking I was laughing at his story while I was mostly amused at his wandless magic.

"Wow, Harry, that's actually impressive," I praised, "My mother does things wandlessly all the time. I guess I'll practice on my own time. Maybe Hermione could help tutor me in first and second-year spells. I'm a bit behind the curve." I said nervously. Hermione nodded in agreement, pink cheeks and all. This is just too cute.

In return, Harry asked about the intricate tattoos that adorned my neck, which snaked their way across my body. Curious, I temporarily removed my robe to reveal the intricate designs on my arms, prompting Hermione's complexion to light up like the ripest tomato one could ever imagine. Clearly, I had earned some brownie points. I explained that I had carried these tattoos since birth, and Hermione seemed utterly intrigued by their significance. On the other hand, Ron reacted with a mixture of shock and amusement, proclaiming my tattoos to be the most wicked birthmark he had ever seen.

As the train journey continued, I couldn't help but feel a growing sense of friendship with these people. Going from knowing them as fictional characters all my life to actually having the opportunity to meet them in person was jarring yet not entirely unwelcome. I had come to realize that these fictional characters were, in fact, human beings with their own quirks and personalities. It was a realization that took me by surprise, as seeing someone on an oversized screen or reading about them in a book had never truly prepared me for the depths I'd have to get used to.

The compartment fell into a tranquil silence, with the world outside growing darker as raindrops pattered against the window and distant thunder provided a soothing backdrop. Seizing the moment, I closed my eyes and feigned slumber, allowing the trio to converse freely among themselves.

Harry's voice broke the silence, speaking softly to Hermione and Ron. "Is he asleep?" he inquired, skepticism assaulting his features.

Hermione, with a keen eye on the teen, nodded in response. "Yep," she confirmed with a gentle smile. "He looks peaceful," she observed, her cheeks once again tinted with a faint blush. Must've been the 10th time blood has rushed to her face today.

Harry and Ron noticed her behavior but wisely chose to keep quiet. For fear of her wrath, and obviously because they were relieved.

Ron huffed. 'She's your problem now mate.' he grinned.

Harry was the first to speak up, his eyes narrowing in seriousness.

"So, Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban to come after you? Blimey, mate, are you sure we shouldn't just tell a professor?" Ron inquired, a worried expression in his eyes as he cradled and massaged Scabbers, his delicate pet rat.

Harry shook his head adamantly, his determination clear. "It's something I wasn't supposed to know. I don't know if I can risk my safety by just telling any adult we come across, Ron," he declared, briefly recalling his past encounters with dangerous situations involving adults, such as with Professor Quirrell.

Hermione lowered her gaze, deep in thought as she pondered their options. "They'll catch him, won't they? It's hard to believe Azkaban can be escaped, let alone that they would let their prisoners run free. They must have something to put a stop to him, right?" She offered, her expression reflecting her bewilderment.

Ron seemed to deflate, fear etched across his face. "It's just that nobody's ever broken out of Azkaban before, and... well, he's a loony, a murderous one too," he mumbled, causing Harry to deadpan.

"Thanks, Ron"

BAM!

The train rocked with a violent shake, The four teens being rocked off balance, struggling to sit upright. The train then halted to an abrupt and sudden stop, wheels now screeching across the tracks as it descended. The deafening sound of fierce winds and barrages of rain pelting against the glass, making the faint whistling sound chilling to the spine

"Shoooom"

I sat up out of my act of sleeping, seeing the startled and shocked faces of the trio, looking around in confusion. The lights that had previously fallen to a dim, were now completely off as I briefly peered out the window. "What happened?" I pressed, Harry being the one to answer me. "I don't know, maybe we've broken down." He said, a tone of uncertainty. He made his way to the door of the cart, pulling it open only to be thrown down by another violent shake.

BANG!

The cart rocked once more, causing me to lose my posture, Hermione fell into my chest as she was too frightened to notice.

I then heard a familiar and deadly call of the creatures that I longed to see in person, fascinated with their biology.

As frost permeated the windows, freezing a water bottle sitting in front, A long black cloak, torn on its ends flowed wildly as if in the wind. We all witnessed its long slender fingers reach for the compartment doors, slowly and surely breaching its entrance.

The now frigid compartment made an audible creak as it grabbed the handles, tenderly opening the doorways.

Creeaak

And there it was, a dementor in all its splendor and horror. A creature of the underworld, one that fed on happiness and Joy. On human souls. Its dark visage was humanoid, its long and skinny arms outstretched in cold indifference as its long cloaked appearance flickered slowly in and out of existence.

It was hungry.

No emotion. No thought. Simply a mindless creature of cold calculation. It made a long, almost guttural sound as if it was breathing heavily. Raspily, as if gasping for air.

It turned its attention to me, moving ever so slowly in my direction.

'Oh?? You're approaching me?' a sick smile plastered onto my face.