The two continued to talk for a good five minutes. About what little they both knew about wizarding politics and history. About the incredibly vague definitions of Pureblood, Halfblood, and Muggleborn. About the vast number of unwritten rules that mark Muggleborns as outsiders. About how in the otherwise highly secular Wizarding Britain, it was a horrible faux pas to take the Lord's name in vain, so most people use "Merlin!" as a generic expletive.
"Honestly," said Harry. "I only care about this stuff because ... well, because my father, James Potter, is from a very old Pureblood family. And someday, Merlin willing, I'll inherit his seat in the Wizengamot, so I'm trying not to accidentally insult anyone important needlessly."
"Merlin... willing," she repeated while shaking her head. "That's going to take getting used to. Any other major blunders I should avoid making? Bearing in mind that I don't plan on changing my principles just to appease bigots."
"Me neither. And like I said, I don't think most wizards care about etiquette unless you do something veryoffensive or the wizard is a Pureblood from a very old family, but better safe than sorry." Harry thought for a second. "Oh, here's a big one that's important to us since we're just now starting school. Never raise your hand in class."
"What?!" Hermione said incredulously.
"Well, more specifically, never raise your hand in class unless you're asking the teacher a question or they have clearly asked for a volunteer, usually after someone else has tried to answer and flubbed it. Whenever the teacher first asks a question, he usually has someone specific that he plans on asking but is just giving the student a few seconds to prepare an answer.
My ... my mother was very specific about this. Apparently, when she was a First Year, she was treated as an outcast and couldn't figure out why. Finally, someone took pity and told her that raising her hand every single time the teacher asked a question implied that she thought her classmates were too dumb to know the answer if called upon."
"Wow," she said. "I would never have considered it like that if you hadn't explained it to me!" She blushed slightly. "Before Hogwarts, I went to a gifted school where classroom participation was a big part of the grade. I'd have made a complete fool of myself if I'd gone into Hogwarts with the same attitude."
Harry nodded sagely. "There's a lot of fiddling stuff like that can cause newcomers to this world like us to stick out like a sore thumb if we're not careful. Basically, Miss Granger, you and I are about to start our first year at Oxbridge, you as a scholarship student, me as a legacy raised abroad, and neither one of us having been raised to know anything about Oxbridge culture."
Hermione looked down at the floor. It was a lot to take in. "Do you think, Har... Mr. Potter, that I'll be discriminated against because my parents are Muggles?"
Harry hesitated. "I'm ... not sure. Personally, I reckon I'll be treated like an outsider to some degree, at least at the start, and I'll have to figure out to react from there. I'm sure some people will be biased against both of us because of our heritage. Of course, not everyone will feel that way, and even the bigots will hopefully be somewhat restrained since their side lost the last war." He paused. "Have you thought about what House you want into?"
"I was hoping for Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. Why? Do they have different attitudes towards Muggleborns?"
"Well, all I really know on that topic is what my parents told me, so take this with a grain of salt. A lot of Slytherins followed You-Know-Who during the last war, and I'm sure some of their children will be among our peers, so I'd expect them to be hostile to Muggleborns and probably to the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived. Not all I hope, but it's to be expected. The Ravenclaws are the most academically focused, so you might like that, but they're very traditional and have a reputation for elitism, so it might be kind of cutthroat. The Hufflepuffs pride themselves on tolerance and accepting everyone, but the price they pay for it is to be looked down upon by the other Houses as lacking standards. My father called them the House of Duffers, but I doubt that's true, seeing as how there have been more Hufflepuff Ministers of Magic than any other House. Surprisingly, my birth mother said that Muggleborns do best in Gryffindor. They're the closest thing to a House of Rebels we'll find, and apparently they embrace Muggleborns and Halfbloods just to thumb their noses at traditionalist Purebloods. They're also the ones least interested in formality and etiquette so they'll be more forgiving of minor social mistakes. Of course, she was a Gryffindor herself, so she might be biased."
Hermione rose. "Well, you've given me a lot to think about, Mr. Potter. But I suppose I'd better go and find Neville ... Mr. Longbottom, I mean, and see what luck he's had with his toad." She turned at the door. "Mr. Potter, what books would you recommend to learn more about what we talked about?"
Harry smiled, genuinely this time, and he rattled off the names of three etiquette books. "If they don't have those in the Hogwarts library, just ask and I'll let you borrow my copies."
"Thank you." She paused while trying to remember how the people in Pride and Prejudice talked to one another. "And Mr. Potter, if I am not being presumptuous in saying, I would be gratified if you would call me Hermione," she said with a smile of her own.
Harry laughed. "You are not being presumptuous at all, Hermione. And I would be equally pleased if you called me Harry."
She nodded and left the compartment, as Harry returned to his etiquette book, pleased at having made his first tentative friendship. About ten minutes later, the door flew open and Jim entered, along with the red-headed boy Harry had encountered twice before.
"Hey, there you are!" exclaimed Jim. "I've been looking for you for ages. This is Ron Weasley. He'll be in our class. Ron, this is my brother, Harry!"
"Good to meet you, Harry," said Ron enthusiastically.
"Likewise," said Harry blandly. Internally, he thought "Oh, yeah, definitely Gryffindor." Out loud, he said "Actually, I think we've already met. We were getting fitted together at Madame Malkin's."
"Oh, yeah! I remember you. You should have told me you were Jim's brother!"
"Well, I'd just found ... never mind. Let's just say it was a stressful day and I didn't think about it."
"Well anyway," said Jim, dropping into the seat next to Harry, with Ron opposite them. "I'm sorry we got caught up with those photographers. It's a pain sometimes. But Ron here introduced me to his brothers and they introduced me to the Gryffindor Quidditch team." He paused. "Say, do you know anything about Quidditch, Harry?"
"Not much. I know it's a strange combination of water polo, dodgeball, and capture the flag but played in the air on high speed flying broomsticks."
"Oookaay. I don't know what any of those are. But don't worry. Dad was an awesome chaser when he was in school, and he got me my first practice broom for my fourth birthday. We'll get you up to speed in no time."
Harry, who had spent his fourth birthday learning how to cook bacon and scrambled eggs for the Dursley's (with the threat of a frying pan to the head if anything was burnt), smiled that painful smile again. "I'm looking forward to it."
Suddenly, the compartment doors opened again, and yet another person barged in. This one was a thin, blond boy with aristocratic features. Behind him out in the corridor stood two stocky boys who would probably grow into hulking brutes within five years.