Harry Potter's revenge

The Gryffindor glanced to her, saw the crest, saw the ring, and paled. "H-Heiress Slytherin? I-I'm sorry but I don't have anything for you, my parents didn't say anything—"

Oh hell. "—Please." She held up a hand and sighed. This was the second person to panic like this. "I am not Lord Slytherin's daughter. I am Lord Slytherin's vassal, and no-one knew I would be joining Hogwarts today as such."

"O-oh. Ah, okay then." The girl didn't look like this was much better, but did manage to finish her social ritual with Daphne and exit the compartment with only minor blushing.

Tracey giggled. "Maybe we should start a pool on how many times someone loses themselves when they see you, Hermione?"

She grumbled.

Blaze smirked. "I'll put a sickle on five times."

She made to look incredulous. "Oh, come on." "No, really," Tracey continued. "Maybe we could get them to faint by telling them you're a muggleborn too?"

She paused. "Already did that with a pair of red-headed Gryffindor twins."

"The Weasley twins?" Tracey gasped. "No way!"

"Well, they didn't actually faint, but—"

"If we're quite finished," Daphne interrupted, "I'd like to bring it to your attention that the boy from the Dark is late."

She frowned and inspected a piece of parchment in front of her. She didn't strictly need a parchment record, but there were times when having to keep retrieving things from her mind-scape library was tiresome. "Well if he doesn't get here soon we're going to have to move Cooper up to the next slot and—"

*Knock* *Knock*

"—And never mind," she finished.

The door slid open to reveal a tall boy with slicked over mahogany hair, wearing closed silk robes and an expression of haughty indifference — an expression that was spoiled somewhat by the redness of his cheeks and the shortness of his breath. He wore the crest of the Noble House of Nott on his robes.

"Heiresses Greengrass and Davis and Heir Smith?" he half panted.

"Yes?"

"Yes?" "Yes?"

The Nott heir straightened his robes, took a deep breath, and bowed. "I am Heir Theodore Nott of the Noble House of Nott. I believe we have met before, Heiress Greengrass. And what is that?" He pointed to Freekey sitting on a pile of books on the small compartment table.

Daphne smiled. "She is Freekey, my familiar. And yes, I remember seeing you at last year's winter festival. Perhaps you would care to take a seat?" She motioned those of her bench to budge up, which they started to do. "You're looking a little winded."

"Ah, it's nothing, Heiress Greengrass." Nott muttered.

"Nonsense, I insist." Daphne's eyes glittered. He sat.

"Besides, our ambassador to the Light is about to depart now anyway. Isn't that right, Hermione?"

She frowned. No. She wasn't leaving for another five min… oh. She half-sighed, half-smirked. "Yes." She stood and dusted down her very expensive black, silk closed robes so the crest was clearly visible to their guest.

Nott's gaze slid to her as she stood, travelled up her body to her face, studied it for a split-second, then jerked back down to the crest. He stood back up so quickly his feet left the ground. "Heiress Slytherin." He bowed again. "My sincere apologies. I had no idea you would be joining us today." Tracey giggled.

"Please, Heir Nott," she said.

Nott straightened.

"I am Hermione Granger, of the House of Granger, vassal of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Slytherin."

Nott's jaw slackened. "Vassal?"

"Yes." She dipped into a shallow curtsey. "My lord expressed the hope that we might get along over the next few years, as he is of the fullest confidence that you, like me, will be sorted into his house."

Nott straightened. "Of course, Vassal Granger… er…" he looked uncertain. "Do I call you Vassal Granger or what? I was never taught…" She suppressed a smile, though the other girls were not bothering to hide their amusement. "Miss Granger is fine if you wish to be formal. Or just Granger or Hermione as you like."

"Very well, Miss Granger."

She nodded, brushed past the boy, and left the compartment.

She walked down the corridor. It was time to meet the fake-boy-who-lived, Harry's brother, and the boy who, in six years of so called 'friendship', hadn't given her one single lesson in wizarding culture.

The small girl with long burnt-brown hair tiptoed up to the door of the first compartment and shook. It was so late now. Could she really face them all after being so late? She teared up. Her breath shuddered. No. She couldn't do it. She was a disgrace, a failure. The girl turned and fled back up the train, locked herself in the toilet, and sobbed.

In the last compartment, John Potter sat chatting and joking with Ron and Susan. Occasionally, Neville would join in, or Lavender, Sally, Padma, and Hannah would add their share. Every few minutes, like clockwork, another older witch or wizard would arrive to present some gift or other. After sometime of this, the compartment table was starting to spill over, and even Ron was having difficulties keeping up with the flow of food.

Hannah sat up a bit straighter, holding a piece of parchment. "John."

"Mmm?" "Next is the ambassador from the Gray."

He too sat straighter. "Oh, really? And they are?" "Umm… the parchment doesn't say."

He sighed. "Always with the freak'n secrecy. Would it kill them to at least tell us that much?" Neville shrugged.

"Well, whatever. You know the drill. Be friendly, cautious, and try to remember everything you can."

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