As Sophie Roper and her father made way for the next person in line, Hermione received quite a shock - or rather Harry did when he was bonked on the head.
"Why didn't you tell anyone you were funding the Hopefuls?" the new girl asked with an odd look on her face. It was Katie Bell, the Gryffindor Chaser from a year above them; she hadn't even seen her there.
"Er - I didn't know," Harry said honestly as he rubbed his head, drawing a skeptical look from the girl.
Instantly Hermione felt a spike of fear and uncertainty as a horrible realization occurred to her. Here was a girl Harry actually knew, had spent hours playing Quidditch with, and had even changed clothes in the same locker room several times. Katie could understand the sports-loving, more relaxed side of him better than she would. She'd always been the one to harp on him about studying, why would he want to be with her when he could have fun with Katie?
Hermione took a breath and tried to calm herself. If Katie had been interested in Harry she could have said something a hundred times by now. 'Yes, but that was before she knew he had literally changed her life, ' that fearful part of her said.
"Friend of yours Harry?" Charlie asked with a raised eyebrow as Bill was drawn into another conversation off to the side. "Or should I rough her up a bit and stick her head in the toilet?"
Katie's eyes popped at that, but not for the reason she thought they would.
"You're Charlie Weasley," the girl said excitedly, completely ignoring Harry. "I remember you from first year."
"Nope, you must be mistaken," Charlie said at once. "I'd remember being in the same year as someone as short as you."
"What? No, I meant my first year," Katie clarified. "I've heard all about you from Fred and George. Is it true you went for dragons instead of Quidditch? Everyone was sure you'd play for England…"
It was a much more relaxed Hermione who sighed in relief as Katie went on to hog the attention of one of her Quidditch heroes - at least until a tiny explosion of light blinded her with a brilliant flash.
"All right, Harry? I'm Colin - Colin Creevey," Hermione heard as she tried to blink the after-image away so she could see again. "Professor McGonagall just said I made it in, isn't it great? I hope to be in Gryffindor too."
"That's - that's great Colin," the purplish-white blob obscuring Harry's face said as he seemed to be recovering too.
Thinking this would be a good opportunity to stretch her legs, and for Harry to branch out and make new friends, Hermione abandoned her boyfriend before the excitable new boy could blind her permanently with the antique camera he had. Remembering what Harry had said about never knowing when you'd get your next meal, she stopped by the refreshment table to help herself to a ham and cheese sandwich and some wizarding drink called butterbeer.
Looking out of the windows as she ate Hermione was struck by how unremarkable the view was from here. With the windows being such a prominent feature of the room she'd expected something grand, but really it just gave her an awkwardly cramped feeling of being tucked under the eaves. The butterbeer made up for it though; it was really good.
The room was situated directly above the entrance to Diagon Alley, but you couldn't see the back courtyard that led to it, only some of the nearest shop faces and a bit of the street itself as it winded its way below her. There was a slow but steady trickle of people coming and going, including the blonde woman in green they had seen earlier, but still the bony white building of Gringotts jut out over everything.
She wondered if that was supposed to make a statement. It almost seemed to say that no matter what happened, or how prejudiced magical people got, that building would remain and there was no getting rid of it. It was the only bank and with a monopoly like that they'd have an amazing amount of power if they ever chose to use it. Perhaps that's why the goblins had - no matter how violent the history between the two peoples - remained a functional part of society for so long; wizards couldn't cope without them.
Turning from the window, Hermione saw the brightly colored girl again, only this time she was sitting alone picking the lettuce out of a club sandwich and eating the layers in different orders. The lettuce she kept on her knees for some reason; she seemed to be saving it. She glanced around to see where Mr. Lichfield had gone and found him a little ways off talking to the girl's father, leaving the girl completely forgotten.
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