How the Mighty have Fallen

Lucius Malfoy was no fool. The Head Boy position was well suited to his personality and currently the position called for a calm but prompt response so with graceful agility he silently cast a hover charm on Hermione to alleviate the pressure, which was undoubtedly causing her pain, on her internal injuries.


“Don’t just stand there Severus find the Headmaster or another Professor,” Lucius said sharply.


Hermione took a long look at the boy when he said “Severus”, “unbelievable”, she thought, she would have never recognized him.


“Of course,” he replied and quickly turned on his heel to do just that.


“Where are you hurt?” Lucius asked concerned.


“Ribs” Hermione replied.


“I’m Lucius Malfoy and you are?” he questioned


“Hermione,” she answered without a thought.


“Hermione, a transfer” he stated.


“An idiot,” Hermione thought more aptly described herself. And she flinched at her own stupidity.

Mistaking the action he quickly added, “You needn’t talk if you’re in too much pain.”


Hermione gave him a sardonic look that clearly said, “I would have never guessed.”

The Headmaster rushed to Lucius’ side concern clearly etched on his kind face. “I have sent for Madam Pomfrey and she shall be here shortly; in the meantime we will relocate you to the hospital wing,” Headmaster Dumbledore directed his comment to the injured girl.


Once Hermione was settled in the hospital wing her wait was cut short as she heard Madam Pomfrey’s purposeful steps and turned her head to watch the witch enter but the witch chided saying, “don’t move your head,” followed by, “ you’ll be alright in no time dear,” she said much more kindly.

Half an hour later she was good as new.


“Sir, may I have a word?” Hermione questioned Headmaster Dumbledore.


“Certainly,” Professor Dumbledore replied agreeably, “Ah, but first you need to be sorted; you are a transfer student, correct?

“Of sorts,” Hermione muttered.

“Let’s get you sorted before breakfast is over. Rather unconventional, sorting during breakfast, but there is no time like the present.” And he punctuated his enthusiasm with hands that gestured to the hospital wing exit.

“But sir it is rather pressing…” Hermione started urgently, but was interrupted when Professor Dumbledore raised his hand in a silencing gesture.

“I’m sure it is. And you will have my full attention after being sorted,” he stated simply.

Although Hermione was no stranger to Hogwarts she felt distinctly out of place and nervous. It didn’t help matters that her brain was clouded from fatigue but she forced herself to devise a strategy. Headmaster Dumbledore presumably announced what was to occur and summoned the sorting hat and a stool; but Hermione was so caught up debating what house would be better suited to remain anonymous, Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff? That she didn’t react at all when he told her to take a seat.

“She was likely to get into Ravenclaw if she asked the hat to place her there but Hufflepuffs were less likely to discover her secret.” “Well that settles that, Hufflepuff was the safer choice she’d ask to be sorted there.”


“Miss… can you please take a seat?” Albus repeated

“Yes, sorry sir,” she apologized as she walked to the seat and sat down to a chorus of soft laughter.

The sorting hat was placed atop her head but before the hat could decipher which house would house the witch she cut in quietly, but firmly, “place me in Hufflepuff and if you can’t then Ravenclaw; but I can not be a Gryffindor…” she trailed off.

The hat replied, “You’re pushy and “I know just where to put you, Slytherin!”


Hermione looked dumbstruck before this final shock crashed her system and she promptly fainted failing backwards off of the stool.