Harry Potter in Unexpected Situations

Hermione Granger adjusted her robes as she stepped into the next compartment on the Hogwarts Express, her new copy of Hogwarts: A History clutched to her chest. She had yet to make any proper friends, and the quiet buzz of conversation made her stomach twist with nerves.

Then she saw the girl.

A striking figure sat by the window, legs crossed with effortless confidence, dressed impeccably in a boy's uniform. Her auburn hair was neatly combed back, and how she held her head—so proud and sure—made Hermione hesitate.

The girl caught her eye, a smirk curling at the corner of her lips. "You there. Have you seen Harry Potter?"

Hermione blinked. "I—um, no, I haven't. Why are you looking for him?"

Nevina tilted her chin, folding her arms with a dramatic flair that made her presence impossible to ignore. "Because he's Harry Potter, obviously. The Boy Who Lived! I've read every book about him — twice. A legend like that deserves my attention. Maybe even my friendship... if he proves himself worthy, of course." She flashed a dazzling smile.

Hermione blinked again. "I—well, yes, but—"

"Nevina Longbottom." The girl extended a hand, her voice rich with warmth but unmistakably commanding. "You may accompany me if you wish. I could use sharp eyes on this quest. We are looking for a boy with green eyes and the scar on his forehead."

Bemused, Hermione shook her hand. "Hermione Granger. And—I suppose I could help you look."

They moved through the train together, Nevina making no effort to hide her curiosity, boldly glancing into each compartment. Eventually, they slid open the door to one where a dark-haired boy with round glasses sat beside a red-haired boy.

"Are you—Harry Potter?" Nevina's voice, proud and resonant, carried through the space.

Harry blinked. "Er—yes?"

Nevina's smirk widened. "I knew it. You have the air of someone important. I am Nevina Longbottom. It is an honor."

Harry, a bit pink, murmured, "Uh, nice to meet you."

Hermione stepped forward, eyeing the other boy, who had crumbs on his sweater and a smudge of chocolate on his chin. "You could've at least cleaned up properly," she muttered under her breath.

Ron blinked. "Wha—?"

Harry smiled at Hermione, his green eyes catching hers. "Erm, so... are you first-years too?"

Hermione felt her cheeks warm, clutching Hogwarts: A History a little tighter against her chest. "Yes, I am. Hermione Granger. I've read all about Hogwarts, have you?"

Harry shook his head sheepishly. "Not really, but... I'd love to hear about it."

Nevina's smirk deepened, folding her arms across her chest as she observed them. "A thirst for knowledge and a mark of destiny? Most promising." She tilted her head slightly toward Hermione. "Do tell him, then. Surely someone with your—" her eyes flicked pointedly to the book in her arms, "—extensive reading must be brimming with wisdom to share."

Hermione blinked, momentarily flustered, before launching into an explanation. "Well, there are four houses—Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. I hope to be in Gryffindor myself, though Ravenclaw would be quite suitable too. They say Gryffindor values courage and bravery most."

"Excellent," Nevina declared, her chin lifted proudly. "For I intend to be nothing less than the embodiment of both. Surely, we'll all be in Gryffindor together—except perhaps Weasley."

Ron, who had just finished his sandwich, frowned. "Oi! What's that supposed to mean?"

Nevina gave him a look as if she were regarding a mildly interesting garden gnome. "It means you may yet prove yourself. Or not."

Harry stifled a laugh while Hermione frowned. "That's not very kind, Nevina."

Nevina shrugged, though her smile remained. "Perhaps. But kindness is not the same as truth, is it?"

Harry, sensing the tension, shifted the subject back. "So... what happens when we get there? Do we just... go to classes right away?"

Hermione shook her head, clearly eager to return to explaining. "No, first we're sorted into houses. There's a ceremony. I read all about it—"

Nevina gave Harry a knowing look, her golden-brown eyes glinting with confidence. "See? You're already attracting the brightest minds to your side. Destined indeed."

Hermione felt her heart flutter slightly at Harry's warm smile, a strange warmth pooling in her chest she couldn't quite explain. He seemed so...different from what she'd expected.

Ron, sitting by the window and half-heartedly nibbling a sandwich, just blinked at Nevina. "Wha—? Wait, you're a girl... dressed as a boy?"

Nevina's head tilted with practiced poise, her hands resting on her hips as if daring him to question her further. "Indeed. As the future lord of the Longbottom estate, I choose to present myself however I wish. One day, I shall lead my house with strength and honor." Her gaze narrowed, voice sharpening like a blade. "As the sixth in line for heirship of house Weasley and the dirtiest thing, even filthier than the rat in your pocket, you should keep your mouth shut."

Ron paled, clutching Scabbers defensively, his ears going crimson. "He's not—! He's just—" His voice wavered, hands trembling slightly as he stroked the rat, who gave a faint squeak of protest. His eyes darted toward Harry and Hermione, silently pleading for backup.

None came.

Nevina's piercing gaze lingered, daring him to object further.

Ron's face crumpled, his lower lip quivering as he blinked rapidly, struggling not to cry. "Y-You're horrible! I don't even want to sit here anymore!" He sniffled, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve before bolting for the door.

As he fumbled it open, he added in a broken voice, "Maybe F-Freddie and Georgina will let me sit with them... At least they're nice!"

With that, he stormed off down the corridor, Scabbers dangling awkwardly from his grip.

The compartment fell silent for a moment before Nevina shrugged, entirely unbothered. She clapped Harry firmly on the back, her grin wide and fearless, as though she hadn't just driven someone out with her words. "Good riddance. Now, Potter, I've already decided—when we step foot in that castle, we'll be the finest students Hogwarts has ever seen. No—greater than that! We'll be legends, greater than the Founders, Dumbledore, even Merline himself."

Hermione blinked, torn between awe and exasperation. "You can't just declare things like that. You haven't even been sorted yet—"

Nevina's smirk only deepened. "Sorting? Mere formality. I was born for greatness." She leaned back, folding her arms as though daring the world to prove her wrong. "Trust me, this school is just the beginning. It's the world that will remember our names."

Harry, a little overwhelmed but smiling all the same, nodded. "Well... I guess we'll just have to see, won't we?"

"Indeed, Potter," Nevina said with a wink. "And when we do, you'll be glad I chose you as my friend."

Harry grinned, a little taken aback by Nevina's confidence but appreciating her straightforward nature. "Alright, Nevina," he said, his voice sincere. "If you're serious about this, then yeah, I could be your friend."

Nevina clapped Harry on the back with a grin, her confidence almost blinding for one so young. "Of course we are friends."

Hermione blinked, feeling a mixture of awe and discomfort at the audacity in Nevina's voice. It was like she was speaking with so much pride—but she was just an 11-year-old, just like them.

Nevina leaned back in her seat, stretching her arms across the backrest, as though she were already surveying the vast expanse of Hogwarts and beyond. "We're going to be legendary, Harry. I'm already planning for it. And you? You're going to be right there with me, whether you like it or not. It's fate. It was decided before we were born you know."

The compartment fell into a brief silence, Nevina's words hanging in the air like a challenge, a declaration. Harry glanced at Hermione, who was still caught in the quiet storm of her own feelings.

Hermione shook herself out of her daze and cleared her throat, trying to regain some composure. "So, Nevina... you said you're the 'future lord' of the Longbottom house?" She raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Are you a noble?"

Nevina's smirk widened a gleam of amusement in her eyes. "Oh, it's true. I'll have to live up to the expectations eventually, but for now, I'm just here to learn. And to... correct the misguided notions of those around me." Her gaze flicked to Ron's empty seat, and a small, knowing grin tugged at her lips. "Though I suppose not everyone can handle greatness."

Harry chuckled, clearly warming to Nevina's unapologetic personality. "So, what do you think of Hogwarts? Have you been here before? You seem like you know exactly what you're doing."

Nevina grinned, her tone casual but confident. "Hogwarts? I've been here plenty of times. My grandmother's on the board, so I know it inside and out. Big castle, tall towers, and the Great Hall? Nothing new to me." She shrugged as if it was all just another day for her.

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. As the conversation settled into a tense silence, Hermione's brow furrowed in thought. She glanced from Nevina to Harry, then back to Nevina again. Her voice was quiet, but the question that had been swirling in her mind couldn't be ignored.

"Wait," she began, her tone full of uncertainty. "Back at Diagon Alley... and even at King's Cross... I haven't seen a single boy. And now on the train—not a single boy except for Harry and Ron. Is Hogwarts... an all-girls school?"

Nevina's gaze flickered towards Hermione as if the question were almost too obvious. "No," she answered, almost dismissively, as if the answer were something everyone should already know. "Hogwarts is not an all-girls school. There are boys here too, of course."

She leaned forward, her voice suddenly more serious again. "But you'll notice, Hermione, that there are far fewer boys than girls in the magical world now. You've only seen witches because that's who's more likely to come to places like Diagon Alley or the train station. Most of the boys are already tucked away at home, and you won't find many of them wandering around freely."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You mean, there aren't many boys left?"

"Did you know that during the Second World War, there was a wizard who tried to change the world entirely?" she said casually, her voice taking on a darker edge. "Geralt Grindelwald—he wasn't just after power. He wanted to control love itself. He believed that if he could make Dumbledore, the greatest wizard alive, fall in love with him, then the entire world would bend to his will."

Harry blinked. "Wait—he wanted Dumbledore to fall in love with him? But why?"

Nevina's smirk returned, though this time, it was tinged with something far more somber. "Because he knew that love—real, genuine love—is the most powerful magic in the world. It's more than just an emotion. It's a magic that shapes everything."

"But for Grindelwald's ritual to work, Dumbledore would have had to willingly love him first. That was the key. He couldn't just make Dumbledore fall under a love potion. He needed Dumbledore to feel the same way, truly and deeply." Nevina paused as if weighing the consequences of what she was saying. "But Dumbledore rejected him. And when that happened, the ritual backfired—badly."

Hermione frowned. "What kind of ritual was it?"

Nevina's voice dropped low, but the certainty in it remained. "It was an ancient and dangerous ritual, one that tied love to every magical ley line on the planet. But because it failed—because Dumbledore didn't return Grindelwald's feelings—the backlash was catastrophic. The magic of love became unbalanced. It fractured the very essence of what makes male wizards... wizards, and female witches... witches."

Harry frowned, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Wait, what do you mean? How did that affect male wizards?"

Nevina's eyes grew serious, the weight of the words heavy on her tongue. "Since that failed ritual, the birth rate of male wizards has been declining. The magical world has always been male-dominated, but now… it's become much rarer for wizards to be born. And that's a problem. Without enough wizards, the magical world risks losing its what little population we have left."

She leaned forward, her voice dropping even further, as though sharing a secret only a few truly understand. "Witches are still plenty. But wizards are... disappearing. It's why there's so much pressure on the few wizards left. They're becoming more precious, more necessary to the magical community. It's not just about bloodlines or ancient houses anymore. It's survival of witch kind."

Harry stared at her, wide-eyed, taking it all in. Nevina, however, seemed to look at him with a sense of unshakable certainty, as though she understood what awaited Harry's seven years at Hogwarts that no one else did.

"So," Nevina continued, her tone returning to its usual confident cadence, "now you know why we're all here. Why does my friend Harry here matter so much? This isn't just about school."

"So, what do we do now?" Harry asked, his voice a little uncertain.

Nevina's eyes glinted with mischief. "Now? Now, we get off this train and begin the real Hogwarts. Trust me, if you think this year will be more about magical puberty and to whom Harry would lose his virginity than magic but some consider it more magical than magic itself. It's about pure pleasure. I bet there will be an article in Witch Weekly about you soon Harry." She leaned forward slightly, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "And for that, I have the perfect man in front of me."

She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice to a seductive whisper. "And for that, we'll need more than just magic. Trust me, Harry... when you're the only boy in a school full of girls, you'll soon see things a bit differently. But Hermione, as a witch your magic and instincts will already go haywire when you reach Hogwarts and you understand. It's about figuring out when, how, and where you fit in that. Witches like us? We get that kind of thing early."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled. "Wait, isn't Ron another boy at Hogwarts?" she asked, looking between Nevina and Harry.

Nevina chuckled, clearly enjoying the confusion she was stirring. "Oh, and that Ron?" Her voice dropped into a hushed, conspiratorial tone, though her smirk remained unshakable. "His mother—Molly Weasley, the fierce lioness of the Weasley brood—has him under lock and key tighter than a vault at Gringotts. Not a single witch will be batting an eye his way, trust me."

Hermione frowned slightly, her brow furrowing with concern. "Isn't that a bit... bad for Ron?" she asked, her voice tinged with genuine confusion. "I mean, he's practically being controlled by his mum."

She leaned back against the seat, arms crossed with exaggerated confidence. "You see, there's a rumor—and not just from anyone, but straight from Narcissa Black herself—says Molly didn't even want Ron to attend Hogwarts. Can you imagine? Supposedly, she begged the governors to keep him home. Why?" She raised a brow, voice thick with mock mystery. "Because he's her only son among eight children. Eight! And according to certain circles—" she waggled her eyebrows, "Arthur Weasley died of sheer exhaustion keeping up with Molly's... enthusiasm."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "That—That's absurd! You can't just—"

Nevina waved a hand with a grin. "Absurd? Absolutely. But when you live in a world where men are as rare as phoenix feathers, witches get... protective. Maybe overprotective. Some think she's trying to keep Ron from—well—for herself. Or maybe she's just hoping for 'true love,' whatever that means."

She shifted her gaze to Harry, her grin widening. "But you, Harry? You're not being hidden away. You're the Harry Potter. The only wizard in all seven years. I imagine a few witches have already noticed. Haven't they, Hermione?"

Hermione, completely flustered, looked down at her lap, her face pink as Nevina chuckled, radiating self-assured satisfaction.

Nevina's smirk never wavered as she turned to Hermione, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "You know, Hermione, it's kind of obvious, isn't it?"

Hermione's eyes widened in confusion, her face flushing. "What—what do you mean?"

Nevina leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "You've been stealing glances at Harry all this time. You like him, don't you?"

Harry, who had been quietly listening, felt his face heat up as his gaze flicked between the two girls. He awkwardly adjusted in his seat, unsure of whether to speak up or pretend like he hadn't heard. But Hermione's uncomfortable silence made him uneasy, and he couldn't help but glance at her, though he quickly looked away when their eyes met.

Hermione, now nearly as red as her bushy hair, fumbled with her hands, avoiding eye contact with Harry. "I—I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just—just trying to keep up with everything here," she stammered.

Nevina raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. "Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that. But it's obvious to anyone with eyes. You like him."

Harry shifted in his seat again, his palms sweating as he tried to keep his cool, even though the conversation was making him squirm. He could feel the tension rising, but he said nothing, too shy to bring it up.

Hermione opened her mouth, clearly flustered, but no words came out at first. After a moment, she managed to force a laugh. "I—uh—I think you're reading too much into things, Nevina."

Nevina didn't miss a beat. "Oh, I'm not. Believe me, Hermione, I've seen this kind of thing before. It's only a matter of time before you two figure it out."

Harry felt his heart race, his face burning. His fingers gripped his robes tightly as he stared at his shoes, too shy to respond. He couldn't tell if they were talking about him or if he was just imagining it.

---

The Great Hall hummed with excitement, its towering ceilings adorned with floating pumpkins and bats, casting flickering shadows across the long tables filled with students eagerly tucking into their breakfast. The warmth from the food and the soft glow of candlelight offered a brief respite from the tension that had settled over Harry and Hermione since their first days at Hogwarts.

"So, uh…" Harry broke the silence, clearing his throat as he glanced around the bustling hall. "What do you think of the Halloween feast so far? Looks like there's enough food here to feed the entire school."

Hermione's lips curled into a small smile, her eyes lighting up. "It's amazing. But I'm more excited for the pumpkins. I've read about them, but I've never actually seen them float like that before."

As they spoke, Ron stubbornly stuck to Harry's side like a shadow, no doubt because Harry was the only other boy in their dorm. Harry didn't mind too much—he appreciated Ron's company, especially with the hungry eyes of several witches across the hall, eyeing him like he was some sort of untapped treasure.

"Stick with me, Ron," Harry muttered under his breath, his voice steady despite the nervous flicker in his stomach. His eyes darted around the hall. "If they come any closer, I'm not going to the broom closet. I swear I'll hex someone."

Ron, oblivious to Harry's discomfort as he was too focused on the Halloween special sweet breakfast spread, grinned at Harry and shoved a pumpkin pastry into his mouth. "Don't worry, mate. I've got your back."

As the day wore on, the atmosphere in the Charms classroom grew tense. The students had been struggling with the Levitation Charm, and although Harry was starting to get the hang of it, Ron had been having trouble.

Hermione, ever the diligent student, had been offering advice to Ron, hoping to help him get the spell right. But it was clear Ron wasn't making much progress, and the more frustrated he became, the more impatient he got.

"Come on, Ron, just say it properly," Hermione encouraged gently, her tone full of patience. "It's Leviosa, not Levio-sa." She demonstrated the swish and flick again, trying to help him focus.

Ron's face flushed with embarrassment, and his patience snapped. "I know how to do it, Hermione!" he said loudly, his voice betraying the frustration building up inside him. "You don't have to keep showing me. Just 'cause you're a girl doesn't mean you know everything!"

Hermione's face went pale, her eyes widening in shock at the sudden outburst. Harry felt a pang of guilt as he watched her, knowing Ron's words had hit hard. Hermione, who had always been the one helping, always the one willing to teach, had clearly been wounded by the comment.

Ron, not even realizing how his words had affected her, turned away, trying again, though still with no success.

Hermione stood there for a moment, struggling to keep her composure, before she abruptly stood up. "I can't do this," she muttered, her voice strained with hurt, and walked out of the classroom without another word.

Harry glanced at Ron, his stomach sinking as he saw the expression on his friend's face. "Ron... that was a bit much," Harry said quietly, but Ron didn't seem to understand the gravity of the situation.

"What? It's just Hermione being Hermione," Ron muttered, still focused on trying the charm.

Harry shook his head, exasperated. "No, Ron, you really hurt her. She was just trying to help you."

But Ron didn't seem to hear, and Harry sighed, knowing he needed to go after Hermione. He quickly left the classroom, his mind focused on trying to find her and apologize for Ron's insensitive words.

But instead of sitting back and letting things fester, Harry made a quick decision. Without waiting for Ron to say anything more, Harry stood up and followed Hermione. He found her in the corridor, her steps quick and determined, though there was a vulnerability to her that Harry had never seen before.

"Hermione!" Harry called softly, catching up to her.

She paused but didn't turn to face him.

"I'm sorry about what Ron said. He didn't mean it," Harry began, his voice sincere. "He's... well, he's not the best at thinking before he speaks."

Hermione didn't answer, but Harry could see her shoulders trembling. She clearly wasn't ready to forgive Ron just yet. He took a step closer, his voice quieter, more earnest. "Look, I know it hurts. I really do. But... I just want you to know I don't think that way about you. You're... amazing, Hermione. Don't let him make you feel like you're anything less than that."

Hermione hesitated, still not looking at him. Then, after a long silence, she spoke, her voice soft but steady. "I just... sometimes it feels like I'm invisible. Like, with all the other girls here, I don't fit in. And when Ron said that..." Her voice trailed off, her eyes still averted.

Harry gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're not invisible to me, Hermione. I see you. And you're more than any of those witches can ever dream of being."

She didn't respond to him immediately. Instead, she turned and continued walking, heading toward the bathroom, clearly needing some time alone. But Harry didn't leave her side. He walked beside her, the weight of the moment hanging between them.

He sound of massive footsteps echoed down the hall, the floor trembling beneath the weight of whatever was coming. Harry's heart pounded in his chest as he glanced at Hermione.

"We need to get out of here," he said urgently, his voice tight with fear. "Whatever it is... it's coming."

Without hesitation, the two of them hurried down the corridor, knowing they had no choice but to face the creature head-on. They reached the bathroom, the door smashed open to reveal the towering, enraged troll. The beast was swinging its enormous club wildly, its eyes bloodshot and his face dumb.

Harry's pulse raced his thoughts in overdrive. They couldn't run. They had to do something. He looked to Hermione, her face pale but determined.

"I'll distract it," Harry said, his voice shaky but resolved. "You find a way to stop it."

Hermione nodded, her eyes filled with both fear and determination. "Okay, but be careful, Harry."

Harry stepped towards the stalls, his breath quickening as he tried to keep his focus on the troll. The creature swung its club again, and Harry barely dodged, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest. He could see Hermione moving behind the troll, gathering her courage. She had an idea, he could tell.

"Keep moving, Harry!" Hermione called from behind him, her voice steady despite the panic in the air. Harry was barely able to hear her over the roar of the troll's dumb growls.

With every ounce of courage he had, Harry kept the troll occupied, dodging its club as it swung dangerously close. The troll's massive, snarling face twisted with fury, and Harry was starting to feel the weight of the situation. He needed help.

Then, he spotted the opening. The troll swung its club again, and Harry saw it coming.

He shouted, "Oy, pea-brain!" Drawing the troll's attention toward him, his heart hammering in his chest. As the troll turned to face him, Hermione's voice rang out, clear and strong.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

The spell shot from her wand, aimed straight at the troll's enormous club. The club wobbled in the air before being lifted and sent crashing down with a sickening thud onto the troll's head. It let out a howl of pain, staggering backward, clearly disoriented.

For a moment, the troll teetered, dazed by the blow to its skull. But Harry knew this wasn't over yet. The troll was still standing, and they needed to finish this.

"Again, Hermione!" Harry urged, feeling the tension rise in his chest.

Hermione, who had been quietly preparing another spell, raised her wand again. Her lips pressed together in concentration as she moved to act.

With another powerful flick, she used the Levitation Charm once more, this time aiming to lift the troll off its feet. The creature's legs buckled under it, and it crashed to the ground with a heavy thud. The troll lay still, knocked out by the weight of its own weapon.

Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, standing over the motionless troll with his wand still at the ready.

"We did it," Hermione said softly, stepping closer to him, her face flushed with both relief and something else Harry couldn't quite place. Her eyes met his, and for a moment, everything seemed to stop.

Harry nodded, his heart still racing. "Yeah. We did."

Both Harry and Hermione stood panting, adrenaline rushing through their veins. Harry's heart raced, but there was an overwhelming sense of relief. They had done it. They had defeated the troll... together.

As the dust settled, Hermione stepped closer to him, her cheeks flushed with the rush of the battle—and maybe something else, Harry wasn't sure. She looked at him, her eyes wide with wonder.

"That was... amazing," she whispered, almost breathlessly. "You were incredible."

Harry couldn't help but smile, his chest swelling with pride as he looked at her. "You were just as brilliant, Hermione. We did it together."

Harry looked at her, his heart still racing, but it wasn't from fear anymore. He felt something in his shift, something that had been there all along but he hadn't noticed.

"Harry..." Hermione said softly, her voice trembling as she stepped closer. Without another word, she kissed him, gently at first, then with more urgency, as if all the words and hurt from earlier had found their release in that single kiss.

For the first time since he'd arrived at Hogwarts, Harry felt truly at peace. And he knew, without a doubt, that this was the beginning of something real, something that would last through the rest of their years at Hogwarts—and happily ever after.

As they broke the kiss, Hermione smiled shyly, and Harry couldn't help but grin back. They were a couple now, and as they walked back to the castle together, Harry felt a warmth he had never known before.

---

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