Inell's Fanfiction Archive

Clever Mischief, Chapter 6: The Welcoming Feast
Date: Thursday, September 1, 2005
Location: Great Hall
Character: Hermione, Kingsley, Neville
Rating: Any Age

There were more students this year than any other since Hogwarts reopened six years ago. The Great Hall was crowded, full of laughter and conversation. The last of the students had just been sorted and now everyone was eating and talking to new and current classmates.

Hermione was seated at the back of the hall. Normally, she’d sit at the front with the professors, but she never did for the welcoming feast. Tradition stated that only professors should be seated at the main table and, well, she wasn’t a professor. It was a tradition she didn’t mind overlooking the majority of the time. For the welcoming feast, however, she liked to follow the old ways that she’d read about during her multitude of readings of Hogwarts: A History.

Besides, it had been a busy week and tomorrow would be the busiest day of the year for the library so she liked having the opportunity to eat quietly without having students stare at her. She hated the attention she received simply because of her name. She was proud of her actions during the war and the support she’d given Harry in his fight against Voldemort, but she couldn’t stand the notoriety that being Harry Potter’s best friend seemed to bring.

Thankfully, the interest in all three of them had faded over the years. Once the press realized that they were living normal lives and had no interest in interviews or photographs, they’d found a new flavor of the month. Harry still had problems and always would, but he’d gotten accustomed to the attention and tried to ignore it. Ron had welcomed it, at first. However, he’d quickly grown tired of it all and now loved his quiet life with Luna. She’d been fortunate to go almost directly from St. Mungos to Hogwarts. There’d been very little written about her after the war.

There had been enough, though, that people knew her name and most recognized her face. The new students would usually come by the library a lot for the first week. Then they’d realize she was just a boring librarian and not some daring heroine like the papers had often made her out to be in various articles in the Daily Prophet. Since she really hated when people stared at her, especially when they added whispering and, more often than not, disappointed sighs, she was always glad after the initial ‘she helped Harry Potter defeat Voldemort’ awe faded.

For the first meal of the school term, she was eating roast beef, peas, and potatoes. The food was delicious but she never had much of an appetite the first day of school. More often than not, she felt as nervous and excited as she had her very first day at Hogwarts so many years ago. During the entire sorting ceremony, she could feel butterflies in her tummy and remember her fear and anxiety when the hat had first been placed on her head fourteen years ago.

The sorting hat had been the first person, not that you could really call it a person, who had seen more to her than simply books and intelligence. She’d desperately wanted to be in Gryffindor because she wanted to be brave and wanted to be more than just the annoying know-it-all she’d always been in primary school. Before she’d gone to Hogwarts, she’d read about all four houses and had worried she’d simply be put in Ravenclaw without hesitation. While she would never speak against any house, even Slytherin, she’d wanted more than just being the quiet bookworm with no friends.

It had taken others longer to see what the hat must have seen that first night. For months, she’d felt just as she had in Muggle school. No one spoke to her, no one wanted to be her friend, and they made snide comments about the fact that she actually listened in class and studied. Before Ron and Harry had grudgingly, at first, become her friends, she’d often hid in the library or studied around the school in quiet places where people would leave her alone.

She didn’t fail to see how easily she tended to slip back into that behavior even now. When she felt nervous or awkward, she tended to lurk in shadows or hide. Seamus usually forced her to stop hiding. Kingsley and Neville, however, tended to hide with her. Perhaps that’s why she got on so well with them both. She glanced at the head table and saw that Neville was talking to Oliver. Well, Oliver was talking and Neville was nodding occasionally. If Oliver’s hand gestures were anything to go by, he was talking about Quidditch. Again. Poor Neville, she thought with a slight quirk of her lips.

Her gaze scanned the length of the table until she found Kingsley. She did grin when she saw that he’d seated himself with no one on his left and Sybill on his right. Sybill was talking on and on, still completely oblivious after two years that he probably couldn’t hear a word she was saying. Dark eyes looked up and caught her stare. She winked at him and he glowered at her across the distance of the great hall. He looked to his right and then back at her before he quickly made a face that was so fleeting most would have missed it. She giggled and picked up her glass of pumpkin juice to conceal the fact that she was laughing at seemingly nothing.

If she kept that up, the students would decide she was a dotty old spinster who heard voices and wouldn’t care that she was only twenty-five. True, if she kept going in the way she was headed, she would be a dotty old spinster in a few more decades, but that didn’t mean she wanted them thinking she was daft. Hermione focused on her food and began to eat while she mentally planned the rest of things she needed to do before bed and what had to be done in the morning.

After Fred and George had assisted her by charming the Arithmancy books into their proper places, she’d been able to finish all the first year supply sorting sooner than anticipated. She really had more done tonight than she had during the previous years. There was normally a few last minute things she somewhat deliberately left to be done after the welcoming feast so she’d be tired enough to sleep soundly. Tonight, there was only reviewing the lists and ensuring that nothing had been misplaced.

She considered owling them a brief note to scold them for playing such a prank before thanking them for the help, but they could very well be back in Canada by now. There was a chance they’d stop in to say good-bye since they’d taken the time to see her after their visit with Oliver, but she’d never dare to predict what they might do. When she’d asked Oliver if he knew if the twins would be back to see him before they left Britain, he’d choked on his milk and just gaped at her before he’d quickly stammered that he had no idea and changed the subject to Quidditch, which was a surefire way to get her to leave him alone.

“The roast is already dead,” a deep voice said quietly from behind her.

“I like to make sure,” she said as she looked up and gave him a serious look. “You never know if the roast will suddenly sit up and attack.”

He cocked an eyebrow and glanced at her plate. “I’d be more afraid of those potatoes if I were you,” he told her in a hushed whisper.

Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes. “I’ve mashed them already so I assume that means I’m safe,” she declared before she scooted down to give him enough room to sit down. She watched as Kingsley carefully sat down and then she took his cane to rest against the free bench beside her as she had more room than he did at that end. He put down a bowl of pudding and she grinned. “You even brought dessert. I knew you were my favorite Darts Art professor for a reason.”

“Touch it and I’ll hex you, Granger,” he grumbled as he pulled the bowl towards him and gave her a warning look. “I know hexes that even you wouldn’t know, young lady. The pudding is the best part of these bloody meals.”

“You don’t enjoy the sorting ceremony?” she asked with a hint of amusement as she tucked in to her meal.

“Hmph,” he grunted and gave her a look that suggested she might want to check her head for fluffy bunny ears for even daring to suggest he might enjoy something as silly as a sorting ceremony. “How are your preparations for the students coming along?”

“I’m actually slightly ahead,” she admitted after she finished a bite of roast. She wiped her mouth with her napkin and smiled. “Of course, that doesn’t mean that I won’t be triple checking everything before I retire for the evening, but it’s rather nice knowing things are caught up. I couldn’t have done it without the help of my friends, though, so thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said firmly as he looked at her from the corner of his eyes. “And I mean that. Don’t. I do not require a thank you for helping a friend, especially one who has helped me quite a bit.”

“Don’t mention what?” she asked with an easy smile.

“I hate Quidditch.”

Hermione looked up and watched Neville sit across from them and run his fingers through his hair. “Here, have some pudding,” she offered as she pushed Kingsley’s bowl of pudding towards Neville. Before Kingsley could voice his objection, she requested another bowl for each of them.

“He doesn’t shut up,” Neville muttered as he gave them a pained expression. “I don’t care what Quaffle or Bludger hit which player during his first year with Puddlemere. I don‘t even ride a broom.”

“Stop whining. You’re ruining my dessert,” Kingsley complained as he glared at Neville.

Instead of simply smirking and ignoring Kingsley’s grousing, Neville flushed and looked as if he was about to apologize. Hermione kicked him under the table and shook her head once. Kingsley hated apologies unless they actually meant something and there were very few events that he deemed worth wasting words to say ‘I’m sorry’.

“Are you both ready for tomorrow?” she asked her friends. Neville shook off Kingsley’s growling and began to excitedly tell them about his plans for this term. Kingsley spoke quietly and added his own plans to Neville’s in between bites of his pudding. She listened to them, to the laughter and conversation at the tables around them, and smiled as she began to eat her pudding.