Hermione Granger and the Displaced Sorting

Chapter 14

Hermione Granger and the Displaced Sorting

Harry Potter Fanfiction

Chapter 14

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.

New A/N: Sorry. Life got in the way a bit. School's rough this year, so don't expect another update until maybe Christmas break. I haven't published a book since April. For reference, I usually publish 3 books a year, so I'm very far behind. All of my spare time after teaching is directed into that. But, I'm also a serial procrastinator, so you get this gem today! Savor it if you can.

October 14th, 1992

Hermione hated Wednesdays, and this one was no different. She always started exhausted and tempted to snooze her morning training by the time six o'clock rolled around after the midnight astronomy class where they used their three hours of lectures into practical application by gazing at the stars.

Why the professors thought young students needed to wait until midnight when the sky darkened in the Scottish Highlands around eight, she would never know, but she always felt herself dragging the next day.

As a double dose of unpleasantness, she also had flying class, and after curfew, she'd have to try to pay attention to Farley and Sallow's "tutelage" while trying not to shift in awkwardness as they fought in their strange way with one another.

It was going to be a long day.

She powered through the next two hours of endurance and training before returning back to the dorms. She dozed with her head against the stone wall as the showerhead rained hot water over her taxed muscles. Only a stinging hex to her shoulder brought her back awake with a hiss.

She grabbed her shoulder with her free hand, her shield springing back in place as she glanced around at the shocked look of Tracey Davis. Somehow, the idea that the girl hadn't even really intended to land a hit only added insult to injury, mostly because of the implications.

The idea that it was second nature just to try to harm her with a spell implied that they wouldn't give up, and she'd have to constantly be on her guard.

Hermione detested the idea of not feeling safe enough while isolated in her living quarters to go without her shield. It was exhausting—probably why she had lapsed in the first place.

Barely managing to keep her eyes from flaring magnesium white, Hermione held eye contact with her dormmate as she flicked her hand out to her side, low near her hips with her palm up, purposefully overpowering her shield so that it was very, very visible.

Davis's eyes rounded and her face paled as she stumbled back a step.

Figuring she'd given the girl enough time to really appreciate the significance of her control over the wandless magic, Hermione slowly raised that hand up, the shield expanding with the movement.

Tracey's eyes widened even further as she dropped her towel and clothes, fumbling back a few steps.

Hermione stalked forward, slow and careful as she threw her sweaty shirt back on to protect her modesty. She'd have to shower again, but it was baggy enough to cover everything, and she wouldn't have to sacrifice a hand holding up a towel if something happened.

By now, the shield had grown big enough that both Parkinson and Greengrass had to back away from the sinks where they'd been performing their regimen of beauty charms.