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SIYE Time:18:39 on 28th March 2024
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Harry Potter/Granger And The Philosopher's Stone
By Marcus S Lazarus

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Category: Alternate Universe
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger
Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama
Warnings: Violence
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 82
Summary: Harry is badly beaten by the Dursleys and is sent to an orphanage, where he befriends a girl who shall become his sister in every way that matters... Hermione Granger. How would things change from this one moment?
Hitcount: Story Total: 44166; Chapter Total: 2586







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Any hopes that Harry and Hermione had possessed that Ron would be less on-edge around them after they had nearly ended up dog food together quickly proved fruitless; if anything, Ron was even less comfortable in their presence now than he had been prior to their little 'Cerberus' encounter. Hermione, the psychology 'expert' out of the two of them, assumed that Ron was embarrassed that it was his choice of door that had nearly resulted in them being eaten, and was therefore trying to avoid talking to either of them about that or, indeed, anything at all.

The two of them, however, had more to occupy their minds than this minor problem. Having worked out that the package in vault seven hundred and thirteen had been transferred to somewhere in Hogwarts had given Harry and Hermione something new to focus on, now that they know that there'd been an actual purpose behind the action, but as all they knew about the object was that it was around two inches long, and was either very valuable or very dangerous, their chances of guessing what it was without an additional clue seemed slim. Given their lack of progress as far as solving the mystery of the dog went, all they really wanted right now was a chance to do something that would really annoy Malfoy, and, much to their joint pleasure, the chance for them to do just that came only a week after the famous/infamous flying lesson.

As the owls flew into the Great Hall (Hedwig bringing a letter from Alan and Jane about recent events back in the muggle world), everyone's attention was instantly drawn to a long, thin passage that was being carried down by no less than six barn owls. As Harry and Hermione looked up at it, to their amazement, the package was deposited in front of them, nearly knocking over Harry's goblet as the owls flew off. Ripping open the letter, Harry and Hermione read it simultaneously.

DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE
It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everyone knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one.
Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch pitch at seven o'clock for your first training session.
Professor M. McGonagall

"A Nimbus Two Thousand…" Hermione breathed, as she turned to look at Harry. "That's meant to be the best one there is!"

"Wow…" Harry said to himself, staring down at the package, before quickly swallowing his last sausage and glancing hastily over at his sister. "Let's get it up to the dorms before anyone else starts asking awkward questions."

Nodding in agreement, Hermione quickly ate her last egg, Harry picked up the parcel in his left hand, and the two of them headed towards the main doors. Unfortunately, when they were only halfway across the entrance hall, they ran straight into Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, the resident Slytherin gorillas baring the way while Malfoy snatched the package from Harry, giving it a brief inspection before looking back at Harry with a malicious grin.

"You're for it now, Potter," he said, as he tossed the package back to Harry, although Harry didn't need an expert to know that Malfoy was barely concealing a tinge of jealousy and attempting to emphasise his spite to cover it up. "First years aren't allowed broomsticks-"

"Oh, and did that seem to bother you back in Madam Malkins?" Hermione interrupted, smiling slightly at Malfoy's momentary shocked expression. "I don't know who you think you're scaring with this ridiculous attitude of yours, or why you think anyone is even remotely impressed by it, but, quite frankly, you can just go and jump in the lake until someone's interested in talking to you, OK?"

Malfoy seemed about to say something in retaliation, but then the 'conversation' was interrupted by Professor Flitwick appearing by Malfoy's elbow.

"Not arguing, I hope, boys and girl?" he squeaked.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," Malfoy interjected quickly, evidently eager for a reason to get Harry and Hermione into trouble.

"Oh, it's here already?" Flitwick said, beaming at Harry. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter- congratulations, by the way; your parents would be proud. What model is it?"

"It's a Nimbus Two Thousand, Professor," Harry replied politely, trying to conceal his glee at the horrified expression on Malfoy's face; the spoilt brat evidently couldn't believe the idea that a 'mere' muggle-born could be openly allowed a broomstick when he, with all his money and his 'pure-blood' supremacy, had to smuggle one into school if he wanted it. "And," he added, grinning slightly as he turned back to look Malfoy in the eyes, "it's all thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it."

Taking advantage of Malfoy's stunned silence, Harry and Hermione quickly ran up the stairs to the common-room, somehow managing to smother the worst of their laughter despite a few giggling fits.

"Well, it's true, isn't it?" Harry chortled as they reached the top of the marble staircase. "I'd never have known I could fly like that if he hadn't tried to steal the remembrall…"

As soon as they'd reached the currently deserted common room, laughter now subsided, Hermione quickly checked the stairs to make sure that nobody else was coming (The common room seemed, somehow, the more apt place to open the package; after all, it was something that would affect all of Gryffindor House), and then Harry quickly tore the wrapping paper off, leaving the broomstick lying on the table in the middle of the common room.

"Wow…" Hermione breathed, as she and Harry stared at the broomstick before them. They may know nothing about brooms as a whole, but this one looked incredible; sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the top…

It was brilliant.

Harry couldn't wait to try it out that evening.


A few hours later, their lessons over, Hermione headed off to the library to look up some information for an essay the two of them were working on (Her reading abilities were significantly faster than Harry's, making it easy for her to find a specific piece of information in a remarkably short time), and Harry headed for the Quidditch pitch via the most discreet route possible, determined to avoid any questions about his broomstick until he was ready.

Having reached the stadium, Harry spent a few moments studying it, taking note of the vast amounts of seats and the three hoops at either end (Rather like what he and Hermione had used to blow bubbles back when they were younger) before he took to the air for a brief practice flight, managing to get around the stadium at least three times before Wood arrived. The rules of Quidditch turned out to be fairly easy to get your head around- Harry quickly found himself sorting it into three 'different' games in his mind, with the Keeper and the Chasers playing in one game, the Beaters the second and the Seekers the third- and, when practicing with the golf balls being thrown around, Harry easily caught all of them. Gratified by Wood's enthusiasm for his skills, coupled with the feeling of being good at something that it seemed he wouldn't be competing against his sister in, Harry smiled gratefully as he landed.

It was official; he was definitely going to enjoy this, although he wondered how Alan and Jane would feel about him being on a school sports team; he'd never been a very athletic personality back at school…


It came as a significant surprise to Harry when he checked his calendar and found that it was already Halloween; he and Hermione had been at Hogwarts for two whole months, and the castle already felt as much like home to them as their house had back when they were growing up. Even the lessons were becoming more entertaining rather than trying now that they'd mastered the basics, although a few of the other students still seemed to be having trouble in some classes; Neville still went to pieces in Potions, and Ron in particular often had some trouble when it came to pronouncing his Charms incantations correctly.

It was most likely this factor that prompted the argument in Charms on that fateful Halloween. At first the lesson seemed like it would be perfectly pleasant; Flitwick was finally teaching them how to make objects fly, something they'd been longing to do ever since he made Trevor, Neville's toad, fly around the classroom during their first lesson. The class were divided into pairs to practice, Harry working with Seamus Finnegan while Hermione ended up partnered with Ron, who seemed determined to avoid looking at her unless it was absolutely necessary.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of the pile of books that he seemed to need just to address the students; Harry wondered if he ever read any of them. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too- never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

A part of Harry wondered how that could have happened- the spells for making objects fly and the spell for turning an object into a buffalo couldn't be that similar, could they?- but he soon found himself with more to concern himself as he and Seamus proceeded to attempt to move their feather. He managed to pull it off fairly easily- it took him a bit more time than Hermione, who seemed to have a natural art for magic, but he still made it fly a few feet- but Seamus was a lot less capable; he accidentally set the feather on fire when his turn came, and Harry had to ask for a new one.

Ron, on the other hand, was clearly getting frustrated; Hermione had tried to be patient and allow him to go first, as part of a way of apologising for what she and Harry had put him through during their near-death encounter with the dog, but he was proving woefully inadequate at getting the feather off the table.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" the red-haired boy shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill and failing to make any impression on the feather before him.

"You're saying it wrong," Harry heard Hermione snap, causing him to sigh slightly; he loved his sister, but she did tend to go a bit over-the-top where school subjects were concerned at times. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa; you have to make the gar nice and long

"You do it, then, if you're so clever," Ron snarled.

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her robes, flicked her wand, and said, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Instantly, their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

"Oh, bravo!" Professor Flitwick cried, clapping as Harry, in a spirit of fun, borrowed a feather from a nearby table and sent it up to hover alongside his sister's. "Everyone, see here, Mr Potter and Miss Granger have done it!"

Glancing over at Ron as the rest of the class politely applauded, however, Harry was quick to realise that his dorm-mate wasn't as happy about it as the rest of the class; on the contrary, he was glaring at Hermione as though he was nearly ready to blow his top at somebody.


As it turned out, Harry missed the actual confrontation due to being held back at the end of Charms (He'd somehow ended up giving Seamus more miniature lessons on how to levitate the feather than he'd expected), but he was told all about it by Hermione later when they met in their next class and Ron was nowhere to be seen.

"He just blew up and started yelling at me as soon as we were out of the classroom!" Hermione said, looking at Harry in a mix of confusion and shock as they worked on potting the plants they had to work on in Herbology. "He kept on yelling about how he was trying his best, there was no need for me to put anyone else down just because I was practically Harry Potter's sister, it was a wonder anyone could stand me…"

Sticking his current plant in its pot, Harry took off his gloves, leaned over, and pulled his sister into a comforting hug.

"Relax, Hermione…" he said, patting her reassuringly on the back as she shook slightly in confusion and rage. "It's OK… you know you're not putting anyone down deliberately… he was just frustrated… it's nobody's fault…"

But even as he held his sister, feeling her calm down as they spoke, he privately made a mental note to have a few words with Ron the next time the two of them saw each other.

Ron being cool towards him was one thing.

Being angry at his sister… the first person he'd ever met who genuinely cared about him…

Harry wouldn't tolerate that.

If Ron didn't apologise soon, he and Harry were going to have words


The subsequent decorations at the Halloween feast, however, put any thoughts of the still-absent Ron (According to Dean Thomas, Ron was roaming the school corridors as though trying to work through his anger) right out of Harry's mind. A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet, and Harry was just about to have a baked potato when the main doors opened and Professor Quirrell came charging into the hall, screaming "TROLL! There's a TROLL IN THE DUNGEON!"

Instantly, everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to look urgently at Quirrell. However, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher wasn't very forthcoming with further information; he simply blinked a few times, said, "Thought you ought to know…" in a significantly quieter voice, and then collapsed to the ground in the middle of the hall in a dead faint.

After the initial silenced shock that accompanied a statement of that nature, for a few moments, there was an uproar as everyone stared around at each other and began to talk in increasingly more panicked voices about what had just taken place, but then Dumbledore stood up at the staff table.

"SILENCE!" he yelled, and everyone fell quiet as they turned to look at him. "Prefects, lead your houses back to their common rooms! Teachers, come with me to the dungeon!"

Naturally, Percy Weasley was in his element, gathering all the younger students together, proclaiming that they'd be perfectly safe so long as they did what he wanted, he was a prefect, all that stuff…

It was only after they'd left the Great Hall that Harry realized something.

"Hermione!" he hissed, grabbing his sister's sleeve and yanking her into a side corridor. "Ron doesn't know about the troll!"

Hermione briefly looked like she was about to protest- not that Harry could blame her; Ron had been overly harsh after Charms- but she shook that off and simply nodded.

"All right, fine," she said, jerking her thumb behind her. "I'll go this way, you go the other way; trolls are generally rather slow and stupid, so we should be able to get away from it if it tries to attack us when we find it."

Then, letting the scholarly side of her drop for one of those rare moments that only her family ever saw, she leaned over and hugged Harry, giving him a brief kiss on the cheek as she pulled back.

"Take care, OK?" she said to him.

Harry smiled back at her and patted her briefly on the shoulder.

"Always do," he said, before the two of them turned around and ran down the corridors, each scanning their surroundings for the distinctive red of Ron's hair.

After a few moments, however, Harry quickly began to suspect that he may have made a mistake in suggesting that they split up. He was already fairly sure that he'd turned back on himself at least twice, and currently had no idea where he was in relation to the Great Hall, never mind where he was as far as possible locations where Ron may have gone to…

Then, as he rounded yet another corner, he saw Ron standing at one end, staring out a window, and smiled in relief.

"Hey, Ron!" Harry yelled down at his fellow Gryffindor, who looked back at Harry briefly before turning back to look at the window, only giving a brief grunt to indicate that he even acknowledged that Harry was even there.

"Look," Harry said, as he walked up beside Ron to stare at his dorm-mate. "I know Hermione can seem a bit… fussy… at times, but trust me; once you get to know her, she's really not all that bad."

Ron just grunted again, and Harry groaned.

"You know, you're not doing anyone any favours by hanging around down here," he said, glaring critically at Ron. "We've got a troll walking about the place, and Hermione and I abandoned the chance of hiding away in the common-room for the sole reason that we wanted to make sure you were all right, so if you'd rather we just left you out here to get-"

A sudden scream tore through the air, and Ron looked sharply at Harry.

"What was that?" he said, a sudden expression of fear on his face.

Harry didn't bother to reply; quickly scanning his surroundings, he noticed a door at the end of the corridor, a door that hung open…

And had a troll in it.

At least, Harry assumed it was a troll; it was around twelve feet tall, with grey granite-like skin, and resembled a boulder with long lanky arms and a large club in one hand.

Following Harry's gaze, Ron swallowed slightly as he saw what Harry was looking at, and then turned to look nervously at the 'Boy Who Lived'.

"You can't seriously be thinking…" he began.

"We don't have a choice!" Harry yelled, indicating the door. "We don't have time to get someone else to deal with this, in case you hadn't noticed!"

Ron seemed about to protest, or at least run away, but Harry grabbed his arm and stared at his fellow Gryffindor.

"You're in Gryffindor," he said simply. "I need you to act like it."

After a moment's hesitation, Ron nodded, Harry smiled, and the two of them turned and ran towards the door. As they entered the room, they saw that it was an old classroom, apparently one of the numerous extra rooms that seemed to be in the classroom these days…

Then Harry realised who'd screamed, and his blood ran cold.

It was Hermione, currently cowering under a desk as the troll advanced towards her, its club raised as though it was prepared to crush her.

"NO!" Harry yelled in horror, causing the troll to turn and stare in the direction of the noise that had just been made.

Harry didn't even stop to think; he yelled, "Confuse it!" over to Ron, grabbed a leg from a desk that the troll must have broken upon its entry and hurled it towards the troll, following it up by yelling to his sister, "Hermione, MOVE!"

As the troll turned to look in the direction of the yell, Hermione didn't stop to protest; she just dived out from under the desk and headed straight for the nearest wall, already trying to find her wand in her robes.

"Hoy, pea-brain!" Ron yelled, throwing another desk-leg at the troll as it began to advance towards Harry. As before, the yell rather than the leg was what attracted the troll's attention; as it turned towards Ron, Harry glanced over at his sister and saw, to his horror, that she was still trying to come up with a spell to deal with the troll; she was good in the classroom, but evidently needed more practice when it came to thinking on her feet in a crisis.

She always does this… Harry groaned, remembering their bullying encounters back in school; he'd jokingly commented to Hermione once or twice that, if faced with a mugger or similar criminal, he'd be the one who'd just try and knock the guy out, while Hermione wouldn't make a move until she'd consulted a book on the weakest points of the human anatomy and how hard you needed to hit them in order to put the other guy down for the count.

He just wished he hadn't been so right in that assessment.

With the troll advancing on Ron and his sister as good as useless for the moment, Harry did something that was both brave and stupid; he took a great running jump and landed on the troll's back, wrapping both arms around its neck in a desperate attempt to buy his sister and Ron some time. The endeavour was only partially successful; his intent to distract the troll just with his own weight failed, but he did manage to stick his wand up its nose; the item in question had been in Harry's hand as he jumped onto his opponent's shoulders. Roaring in rage, the troll raised both hands, grabbing at Harry with the left while waving the club around in a threatening manner in the right…

"Wingardium Leviosa!" a voice came from off to one side.

Ron? Harry thought to himself in surprise. But…

Then the troll's club floated out of its hand, and Harry didn't have time to wonder how Ron could have mastered a spell that had been giving him trouble only a few hours ago; desperately, he dropped off the troll's back as the club landed squarely on its owner's head. For a moment, the troll just stood there, blinking dazedly, and then it leaned forward and collapsed onto its face, as though it was so idiotic that not even its nerves operated at a normal rate.

As it lay on the ground before them, Harry got to his feet and walked over slowly to Hermione, who was staring at the form before her in silent horror. Reaching over, Harry placed a hand on her shoulder, and instantly Hermione had grabbed him and was holding him in her arms, once again shaking and sobbing into his shoulder, much like she had the first time she gave him a hug, shortly after they first met…

"Uh…" Ron said awkwardly from off to one side, indicating the troll as Harry and Hermione parted and turned to look at him. "Is it… dead?"

Looking at the troll, Harry shook his head.

"I don't think so," he said, as he walked over to look at the troll. "I think it's just knocked out."

As he pulled his wand out and wiped the troll bogies off it on the troll's trousers, he smiled over at Ron, still standing with his wand held out in front of him. "By the way, thanks; I wouldn't be here right now if you hadn't done that."

Ron looked at Harry in surprise for a moment, as though unwilling to believe that the 'Boy Who Lived' had actually, genuinely needed his help…

Then McGonagall, Quirrell and Snape burst into the classroom, and the potential bonding moment was gone; someone must have heard the racket the three (Or four, if you counted the troll) of them had been making. Quirrell turned slightly pale and staggered out of the room upon seeing the troll, clutching his heart, but Snape and McGonagall were glaring at the three of them with such rage that any hopes Harry might have entertained of winning any points for this incident were quickly dashed.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Glancing over at Ron, Harry was slightly put out to see that the other boy was still holding his wand; he looked like he was about to cast another spell. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Harry looked sheepishly at his head of house, trying to come up with an explanation that wouldn't get everyone into more trouble, when Hermione spoke up.

"Please, Professor McGonagall, they- they were looking for me."

As Hermione walked forward slightly, the better to address McGonagall, Harry stared incredulously at his sister. It had been his idea to come looking for Ron that had got them into this trouble, and here his sister was, taking the blame for it…

Why?

"I was looking for the troll because… I-I thought I could handle it; I've read all about them." Swallowing nervously, she walked forward slightly to look McGonagall in the eye as she continued. "But I was wrong. If Harry and Ron hadn't come and found me… Harry distracted the troll and Ron knocked it out… I'd probably be dead."

Ron looked incredulously at Hermione, but Harry just looked at McGonagall, fingers crossed as he hoped and prayed that she'd accept his sister's admittedly rather feeble excuse…

After a moment looking at Hermione in a critical manner, McGonagall sighed.

"Miss Granger, how could you even think of tackling a fully-grown mountain troll on your own?" she said, holding up a hand to stop Snape's most-likely-instinctive attempt to say something that would try to put blame on Harry as well. "Five points will be taken from Gryffindor for your serious lack of judgement. As for you two…" she added, turning to Harry and Ron, before giving them a small smile. "I just hope you realize how fortunate you are; not many first year students could take on a fully-grown mountain troll and live to tell the tale. You will each win Gryffindor five points; I shall inform Professor Dumbledore of this. In the meantime, you may go back to your common room; students are finishing the feast in their respective houses."

Looking at each other, Harry, Hermione and Ron nodded briefly in agreement and ran out of the classroom; Harry was sure he felt Snape's eyes glaring at the back of his head as they hurried away. He and Hermione hung back slightly as Ron hurried on ahead, his appetite evidently overcoming his earlier fear, but Harry didn't mind; it gave him a chance to talk to Hermione.

"Why?" he asked, looking at her inquiringly. "It was my idea to go after Ron-"

"And you already had one black mark on your record when you disobeyed the rules and went after Malfoy on your own," Hermione pointed out, looking critically over at her brother. "I haven't broken any major rules yet; it only made sense for me to take the fall this time round."

She shrugged. "Besides, you and Ron saved my life; the least I could do was help you out."

The common room was packed and noisy, with everyone eating the food that had been sent up from the Great Hall. Ron, however, stood alone by the door, evidently hungry (Based on the eager glances he kept shooting in the direction of the table), but equally evidently wanting to wait for them to arrive. There was a very embarrassed pause as the three of them stood around the portrait hole for a moment. Then, none of them looking at each other, they all said "Thanks," and hurried off to get plates

But from that moment on, Ron Weasley was their friend. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them, especially when, as in Ron's case, it helped him see Harry Potter as Harry Potter-Granger, rather than Harry Potter, 'the Boy Who Lived'.

To Ron, Harry was now more of a normal person, rather than a boy who had been famous from the moment of his birth.

And Harry wouldn't have it any other way.

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