:
A second later, Dumbledore shifted his gaze, as if it had been accidental.
"Thinking too much…?"
Damn, you scared me half to death.
Whether it was just her imagination or not, Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that there was something odd about the way he looked at her just now. Shaking her head, she brushed the thought aside.
Focus on the present.
Following the usual tradition, Dumbledore recommended the must-see attraction at Hogwarts—the Forbidden Forest—and then announced the start of the Sorting Ceremony.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward with the list, calling out names one by one like it was a public execution.
"Hannah Abbott!"
Good old Hannah.
"Draco Malfoy!"
"Susan Bones!"
"Ron Weasley!"
…
"Harry Potter!"
As his name echoed through the hall, the crowd erupted into excited whispers.
As the boy famous for defeating You-Know-Who, Harry Potter's name was already legendary.
After a showdown with the Sorting Hat, Harry was finally placed in Gryffindor.
The Gryffindor table burst into cheers: "Haha! Harry Potter's one of us!"
"Hermione Granger!"
Finally, it was her turn.
Though she wondered why she was called after Harry—when by alphabet she should've gone before—this wasn't the time to dwell on it. She quickly stepped forward and placed the Sorting Hat on her head.
The hat fell silent for an uncomfortably long time.
For the second time that evening, after Harry, there was no immediate response.
"Hmm… courage, perseverance, intelligence, ambition… you've got it all. But ambition is strongest… then Sly—"
"Shut up. Gryffindor."
Hermione cut it off in her mind.
First choice. No rerolls.
God, one transmigration and I almost got tossed straight into Slytherin.
Luckily, she reacted in time.
Do I look like someone itching to become the next Dark Lord? Hermione rolled her eyes mentally.
Sure, Slytherin fit her personality in some ways, but practically speaking, it wasn't the right place for her. She knew very well that Slytherins didn't take kindly to Muggle-borns. If she ended up there, she'd be throwing punches by the next day. Not that she couldn't handle them, but it would be an inconvenience.
Plus, there was a more important reason: by choosing Gryffindor, she could keep a close watch on Harry Potter. Knowing the plot, she planned to fish in troubled waters when things started going sideways. None of the other houses offered that advantage.
"Alright, alright…" the Sorting Hat sighed in defeat. Though it could read traits and thoughts, it still had to respect the student's wishes.
Then it shouted: "Gryffindor!"
More cheers erupted at the Gryffindor table.
Ron nudged Harry. "Hey, look! That serious girl from the train compartment's a Gryffindor too. She could do spells before school even started. I thought someone like her would end up in Ravenclaw."
Harry just covered his forehead, forced a smile, and kept glancing towards the head table.
Hermione knew that scar of his must be acting up because of Quirrell, but Harry kept glaring at Snape instead.
First day of school and already misplacing blame. Classic.
Ron patted the empty seat beside him and waved Hermione over enthusiastically.
She didn't refuse. Taking the seat beside Harry and Ron, she finally had a chance to scan the staff table properly.
Snape, dressed in black, really did resemble a giant bat.
The shortest one had to be Flitwick.
Dumbledore… good grief, how did you go from looking like Jude Law to that? What kind of trauma have you been through?
Next to him was the Flying instructor… what was his name again? She couldn't remember.
And then her eyes landed on the last figure.
Dressed like Steve Jobs, minus the microphone headset—just Voldemort leeching off the back of his head.
Quirinus Quirrell, the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Voldyrell.
The villain who would fumble in year one trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone, only to be defeated by a first-year.
Lost both life and reputation.
Poor Quirrell, really.
She looked away.
The Sorting Ceremony wrapped up, and with cheers and laughter filling the hall, the feast began.
Dumbledore raised his goblet, smiling in Harry's direction. Harry gave a small nod back.
But Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that Dumbledore's gaze might've flicked her way instead—maybe because she was sitting right next to Harry.
Pretending not to notice, Hermione silently dug into her food.
The next morning.
Hermione woke early, borrowed a few books from the library, and headed straight to the classroom.
Her transmigration ability had fully recharged last night, but she didn't use it to jump back to Marvel. She obediently stayed in the dorms. Missing her first official magic class at Hogwarts wasn't an option.
Whether or not the class content mattered to her wasn't the point—she didn't want to leave a bad impression on the Professors. Especially while still establishing her image here.
At Hogwarts, Hermione had carefully built her persona, and now she had to stick to it.
This morning's class was Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall.
Hermione arrived early and, out of old habit from her past life, chose a seat at the very back—a spot reserved for those who arrived first.
She opened Hogwarts: A History, skimming through its pages.
The book recounted the founding of the school and its four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin.
Beyond brushing up on the lore, Hermione had her own reason for studying this book.
She wanted to dig deeper into the concept of Ancient Magic. While the original books touched on it, her mind immediately recalled the game Hogwarts Legacy.
Whether elements from that game existed in this version of the world—maybe she'd find clues here.
As she read, first-years trickled into the classroom in pairs and groups.
It seemed that overnight, everyone had started forming their own little cliques.
Some students spotted Hermione and seemed tempted to approach, but the aura she gave off—an unspoken "stay away"—made them hesitate and turn away.
At that moment, a gray-and-white cat leapt onto her desk, gracefully approaching her.
"Hmm?"
Hermione glanced up.
…A cat?
No—Professor McGonagall.
Hermione stiffened for a second before quickly putting it together.
It wasn't her memory of the original book that gave it away—it was the sudden pulse she felt in the magical interface within her mind.
[Charm]
[Transfiguration: Animagus (Cat) (Learned)]
The sudden notification made her eyes flicker in surprise for a brief second before she smoothed her expression back to normal.
"Huh, did Mr. Filch's cat wander in here?" she muttered casually, then shrugged and returned to her reading.
She chose to ignore the feline Professor entirely.
McGonagall wasn't bothered. In her eyes, Hermione wasn't the type of child interested in petting furry animals. Her mild surprise likely came from seeing a random cat in the classroom, nothing more.
What McGonagall didn't know was that her proud Animagus act had already been seen through by the little witch before her.
The cat walked in slow, graceful circles near Hermione's hand, as though testing her reaction.
After a while, it peered down at the open pages of Hogwarts: A History with an expression that seemed almost… puzzled.
…Why would this kid be reading that?
McGonagall frowned inwardly.
Sure, every first-year was supposed to know the school's history, and Binns' class covered it. But most kids got more excited about flashy spells and potions when they first arrived. Few cared about old school lore.
What an interesting little girl, McGonagall thought.
Seeing Hermione still absorbed in her book, McGonagall finally padded to the front of the class and transformed back into her human form at the podium, waiting for the students to settle.
Soon, the class bell rang.
The room fell silent.
Hermione couldn't help but note how orderly things were here.
As expected of a wizarding school… everyone knows how to study properly, she mused, listening to the faint rustle of pages turning around her.
Even the notorious trio—Zhuai Ge and his gang—sat quietly with their noses in books.
You can call them troublemakers, but you can't say they're slackers.
If there was one exception…
A sudden commotion broke out at the back. The classroom door banged open.
Harry and Ron stumbled in, panting heavily.
Seeing no Professor at the podium, they sighed in relief.
"Thank Merlin we made it," Ron gasped, leaning towards Harry. "If McGonagall caught us, her glare alone would've killed us!"
His whisper wasn't loud, but in the dead-silent classroom, everyone heard it loud and clear.
A collective awkward pause swept the room.
Even Malfoy rolled his eyes.