Year 1: The Beginning Of The End (Hermione Granger X Male Reader)

A Weasel And The Winter's Tale

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September 1st.

10:47 am.

I was standing at King's Cross, staring up in front of me.

The sight in front of me gave me a small twinge of discomfort.

There was a big plastic number nine over one of the platforms here. And a plastic number ten over the other one next to it. And there was absolutely nothing in between the two.

You see, something I hadn't realized when I got the ticket, was that it was for platform nine and three-quarters.

Which isn't here..

For the past month since Diagon Alley, I had been squatting around the area surrounding the station.

It was slightly more difficult considering I now had to lug a small trolley with all of my things on it.

But in that time I'd read nearly all of the books I had purchased. Which, to put in perspective, was quite a few. Like roughly double or more what was required.

My new owl was remarkably easy to deal with.

All I really had to do was let him out the cage a couple times a day and he'd go off in search of food.

Speaking of the owl, It took a week or two, but I eventually named him.

Savitr.

And frankly, I'll admit, I may have attempted a few spells but nothing particularly dangerous.

Such as the Impervius Charm for whenever it would rain.

Or the Wand-Lighting Charm, mostly at night so I could then read more.

Speaking of books, Harry Potter was actually mentioned in quite a few of them. Like Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century, Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and many many more.

Apparently, the dark wizard he and Hagrid mentioned, Voldemort, went to kill him and did manage to kill his parents. But unfortunately, he (somehow) died while trying to kill Harry.

And for some reason, they practically worship Harry now.

Which, now that I've read more about the situation... I understand even less!

I mean, he didn't do anything. He was a literal baby.

If anything this merely shows Voldemort's ineptitude due to somehow failing to kill a literal infant.

If you're going to kill someone... at least be capable of doing so and not fail spectacularly.

The sound of wheels scraping along the ground and coming to a stop get my attention. I glance over to my left, not surprised by what I see.

It was the Boy Who Did Nothing.

Harry had come to a stop with his trolley just beside me. He was looking up at the platform numbers ahead of us. He quickly glanced over at the clock (which now read 10:50), and looked slightly panicked.

Harry merely says, "I've been here for forty minutes. When I asked one of the guards here about the train that left at eleven.. he just laughed at me."

"That's not surprising," I replied, "Most people here are likely Muggles."

Harry nods, clearly having realized that already.

"Frankly, I'm just glad I saw you in the distance. I was starting to suspect I may have hallucinated some things," he tells me.