Hermione Granger and the Displaced Sorting

Chapter 4

Hermione Granger and the Displaced Sorting

Harry Potter Fanfiction

Chapter 4

A/N: This is going to be a running author's note, but if you read on fanfiction.net and enjoy this story, make sure to have my username saved in case my account is deleted. I post on AO3 and Wattpad as well under the same name.

We were so close. With her arriving the day before the book signing, she missed Harry and Ron! But, as a consolation prize, we've got the Hogwarts Express. Enjoy!

September 1st, 1992

"You'll write to us every day, right?" her mum demanded, but Hermione was too squished against her chest to reply.

"Emma, dear, you're smothering her. Literally and figuratively," her dad interceded on her behalf before she died by suffocation before the term could even officially start.

"Oh, but we just got her back," her mum replied, but luckily, she relented, holding her by the shoulders to get a good look at her. "You're just growing up so fast, dear."

"Mum, I've always been mature for my age." And it was true. It was hard to hold onto all childhood innocence when troubled, nightly ghosts paraded through her room, drawn somehow to her abilities.

It wasn't the troubled ones that died pleasantly, and sometimes, they were so scarred by their death that it imprinted on their soul, manifesting their mortal wounds on their ghostly existence. And if that hadn't taken care of her innocence, the psychometry sessions at MI5 did. Even the mildest of deaths were unpleasant when reading them through the echoes of their treasured belongings. A spirit didn't always move on at the time of their death, and when reading the energy embedded on items like that, she sometimes was stuck for the ride.

She'd learned more about decomposition than any person in the world could ever want to know.

But that same skill also gave more weight to the shark tooth necklace of her very first ghost friend. It was the only belonging of his that'd carried a happy memory for him, and any time she missed him, she'd hold it and switch to her metavision.

That shark tooth necklace had taken the place of pride now that she'd returned the two-way mirror locket to Flitwick.

"She'll write as much as she can, dear," her dad soothed. "But we also want her to have time for friends."

Doubly so after Flitwick's ominous word of advice the day before her exams. She didn't want to become lost to the dark side.

"Okay, now, let's go over this again," her father began. "We know how to get to Diagon Alley and use the Owl Post. You're taking the fire lizard—"

"Salamander," Hermione corrected with a put upon sigh since her dad did it on purpose.

"And we're babysitting Santa's elf from Hell—"

"Richard!"

"What? It's true. Maybe he worked for Krampus and not Santa."

Hermione shook her head, grinning at her parents before her eyes welled up, and she threw herself at them one more time, pulling them into a group hug.

"Oh, Tootsie. It'll be alright."

Her mum attempted a soothing noise, but all that came out was a wounded, wrenching cry that she cut off with extreme prejudice as she pulled away and dabbed her eyes. Her voice was a hoarse croak as she said, "On with you then, before we all change our minds."

With all the books she'd amassed, her trunk weighed a ton, but Flitwick had helped her drag it out the apparition point and demonstrated to her how to shrink and unshrink it at his house during their session that day, so she felt oddly free with her robes on, her trunk and wand in her pocket and Ignis curled against her neck. "I love you mum, dad."