"Hermione Jean Granger, that better not be a toffee I see tucked in your hand!"

I guiltily squeezed the soft sweet in my heated palm, my heart thudding at being caught out doing the worst thing I could possibly do.

"Sorry, Dad," I whispered, my voice trembling as I hung my head forward, allowing my bushy hair to hide my beetroot face. "I- I just wanted to try-"

"SWEETS ARE THE DEVILS CREATION!" He bellowed, making me flinch as he slapped the offending golden wrapped sweet from my hand. "HAVE I TAUGHT YOU NOTHING?! HAVE YEARS OF SHOWING YOU PHOTOS OF ROTTEN TEETH MEAN ANYTHING TO YOU?!"

"I- I'm sorry, Daddy."

Eleven years old and I'd never had a toffee. Never been allowed lollipops or liquorice, or even a soft whippy ice cream with a chocolate flake.

Being a daughter of not one dentist, but two, sucked.

But I wasn't ever allowed to say it. Never allowed to complain or to even mention I had life bad in any way.

This made it a whole lot easier for me to erase their memories later on in life.

But that's a story for seventh year.

For now, this was where I started first year. An innocent time as I was about to board the train on Platform Nine and Three Quarters.

Absolutely ludicrous, of course. Well, that's what I thought at first.

But it turns out this Hogwarts place was real, and I did a tonne of studying on the subject the moment I received my acceptance letter.

Mum and Dad didn't believe me at first, and even laughed at the nonsense of it all ("There's no such thing as magic, our little Hermonica.")

Our trip to Diagon Alley to get all my things was treated as though we were simply having a day out to some sort of amusing theme park ("Isn't it remarkable how much effort they put into making these rides feel like you're really part of the theme!" Dad had remarked when a goblin showed us to the vault we had opened to exchange our 'Muggle' money for wizard currency.)

But even through my parents' persistence that it was all just make-believe, somewhere in the depths of my logical mind something lit up, telling me this was my calling.

So, I packed my trunk and off I went, leaving my very skeptical parents behind ("But you were supposed to go to Oxford! They don't accept these Lizard qualifications there!" "They're called N.E.W.T.s, Mum. For Nastily Exhausting Wizard Tests.")

Besides, I no longer wanted to go to Oxford. Not now I knew about this other, marvellous world. The careers open to me now were just simply fascinating and I couldn't wait to explore all these magical avenues and discover which was the right path for me.

"There's no such thing as magic!" Was the last thing I heard them cry out as I disappeared through a wall in Kings Cross station.

As I left my parents behind in the Muggle world, I looked around the bustling platform full of people clearly like me. Finally, a place I felt I belonged.

Marching purposefully towards the big red handsome steam train, I felt full to the brim with confidence and quiet anticipation as I hopped onboard.

One small step for Hermione Granger, and one giant leap for wizardkind!

******

"Have you seen my toad?"

Well, maybe they weren't all quite like me.

"Have you checked your pockets?" I enquired brusquely, instantly taking pity on this clearly hopeless boy. "That's the first thing one must ask oneself when one loses something. Pockets."

The boy, whose face was as round as the moon's and red as a cherry's quickly fumbled around his pockets, pulling from them empty sweet wrappers. I felt a stab of envy which I quickly pushed down.

When it was clear nothing hoppy was inside of them, we started our search along the train. It was a rather good way to introduce myself to my peers, I deduced.

I was surprised to discover that I was one of the few students who had come from an all Muggle family. Everyone else seemed to be old hat at this wizarding thing. I silently thanked the heavens that I'd done my research and had read all the wizarding books I could get my hands on over the summer. It meant I wasn't totally clueless. Unlike some.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

"Are you sure that's a real spell? Well, it's not very good, is it?" I scoffed as I entered a compartment to witness these two gormless first years sat amongst a hoard of junk food.

I shuddered. Boys were the absolute worst.

The one doing 'magic' was a gangly, long limbed ginger, and the other was-

"Holy Cricket, you're Harry Potter!"

"Yeah," he said goofily, pushing his fringe back as his companion glared at me.

"I'm Hermione Granger... and you are...?" I said, turning to meet the ginger boy's scowl.

"I'm... Ron Weasley." He mumbled thickly through a mouthful of food that was so disgusting I had to look away.

"Pleasure. You two better change into your robes. I expect we'll be arriving soon."

Helpfully pointing out the dirt on his nose, I skipped away, hoping to at least find some potential friendships on this journey other than Neville Longbottom (who seemed to stay attached to my side, sobbing quite tiresomely about his still missing toad).

"Look, I'm sure he'll turn up," I said as brightly as I could. "Oh look- here's a compartment we haven't tried before."

I slid open the door before Neville could protest, for some reason the expression on his face growing panicked.

"Hello!" I said, poking my head inside and beaming around at the four scowling faces. "My name is Hermione Granger and nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter. My parents are both dentists, and did not believe there was such a place called Hogwarts! I see you are all first years too. Hopefully we'll become the best of friends, and share lots of classes together. I'm ever so excited about Muggle Studies, even though we can't do it until third year, but won't it be fascinating to study something about myself?! By the way, have you seen this poor boy's toad? He's lost one, you see."

A silence. Not one single one of the compartment's four occupants smiled.

"Get out." Sneered the boy with the pale pointed face and white-blond hair.

I blinked. That was a bit rude.

The girl next to him with the razor sharp bob and scowl equally as fierce, sat up. "You heard him, out! We don't want your kind dirtying the place up."

How dare she! I stood tall, puffing my chest out. "I'll have you know I had a bath and a shower this morning!"

The two burly boys opposite the mean boy and girl started making guffawing noises, flakes of pastry flying everywhere as they continued to cram pasties into their mouths, reminding me an awful lot of that Ron boy.

Neville grappled at my elbow and I dejectedly stepped out of the compartment, feeling a little blue.

"We're here now, I think." Neville said, tears brimming at his eyes. "And I still haven't found my Trevor."

No toad for Neville, and no friends for me.

******

Neville seemed keen to share a boat with me.

He cheered up instantly when this great big hairy giant gave him back his toad. But it meant I was quite lonely on the boat because Neville now only had eyes for Trevor and I may have well been invisible as all his conversation was directed at a non speaking amphibian.

I couldn't help but constantly glance over to that Harry and Ron duo who seemed to be the best of friends. Was this a result of being Muggle born? Did everyone else already have friendships cemented?

I just hoped the Sorting ceremony would help guide me towards like minded people. After my extensive research into all things Hogwarts, I concluded that I was definitely a Ravenclaw. Ron, Harry and Neville were clearly Hufflepuffs and that mean boy and girl were most likely Slytherin.

What a surprise when I was mostly wrong (well, except for the meanies who I found out were called Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson - such peculiar names!).

So, there I was, sat at the Gryffindor table which was mostly filled with that ghastly Ron's family. Weasley's.

Still, at least I was in Harry Potter's house. I read about him, of course. I was fascinated to discover he had just been as clueless as I was before the letter arrived! How funny!

There was another Muggle-born in our year called Dean Thomas. But when I tried to strike up conversation with him over the welcoming feast, all he wanted to talk about was football. Such a bore. I tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn as he harped on about West Ham United.

I felt a little down when I climbed into my four poster bed that night. I could hear Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil giggling about some know-it-all who wouldn't stop talking and was getting on everybody's nerves.

I rolled over and wiped the lonely tear from my face.

*****

My excitement at starting lessons was soon shot down when I met our Potions Master.

Almost all the other professors rewarded me with bright smiles and house points when I stuck my hand in the air and answered all their questions correctly.

But not Professor Snape.

"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

My hand shot in the air. Oh, it was so easy. Didn't anybody else read the set books? I did, and more for good measure.

"I don't know, sir," Harry answered when Snape picked on him.

Pick me! Pick me!

"Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything."

I was practically leaping into the air at this point, trying my hardest to keep my bottom on my seat. I could hear sniggers behind me and felt something small and hard bounce off the top of my head and land on my desk.

It was an eraser with the initials D.M. inked on it.

"Let's try again." Snape said, refusing to look anywhere near me. "Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

For heaven's sake! This was killing me. I could not get my hand any higher if I tried. Almost the entire class were silently shaking with laughter now and I could feel their eyes on me, entertained by the fact I was clearly being ignored by a teacher.

"I don't know, sir." Harry eventually said quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

Yes, finally. Thank you, Harry.

But Snape just told me to put my arm down and took points off Gryffindor for Harry's cheek.

"Swot." One word behind my head. I knew it was Draco Malfoy without turning around.

Hot tears of humiliation pricked behind my eyes as Snape continued the class. But I didn't cry. I refused to show anyone my tears.

I saved that for night-time, instead.

*****