Although this magical world was fictional back on Earth, the timeline was rigid. Harry Potter was born on July 31, 1980, which meant this story was unfolding in the early 90s.
Hermione—or rather, the soul inhabiting her—sat alone in her compartment. As a "Muggle-born" heading to Hogwarts, she naturally didn't have any friends along the way. Unlike the proud, somewhat bossy, and complacent image of the original Hermione Granger, this version acted with extreme caution.
Even when she first boarded the train, stepping through the steam that swirled around Platform 9¾, she avoided other magic students, keeping her head down and trying not to make eye contact.
It wasn't until she slid the compartment door shut, sat down on the plush velvet seat, and stowed her luggage that she finally dared to breathe a sigh of relief.
Careful. Always careful.
She began to mentally review her actions, examining every word and gesture since her time travel began for any loopholes or mistakes.
Reflect on oneself three times a day.
This was a necessary quality and habit for survival.
Her mind drifted back to the System's initial offer. When the light curtain had first appeared, Option 2—the pressure cooker—had left her speechless with its absurdity. Option 1 (Attribute +1) and Option 3 (Magic Book) were the only real contenders.
She hadn't chosen Option 1 because she was too eager to gain actual magical means.
In the original story, Hermione Granger was born into an ordinary Muggle family yet successfully used the Oculus Reparo spell the moment she met Harry and Ron. To the new Hermione, this felt scientifically impossible.
She had tried in private. Although she could feel a hum of wizarding power in her veins—a strange, static-like buzz beneath her skin—she didn't actually know the incantations.
Worse, she didn't have a wand. Although the time-traveling Hermione was annoyed by this oversight, there was nothing she could do about it. The admission letter hadn't come with a shopping trip to Diagon Alley included in the immediate narrative.
Compared with a simple stat boost, starting with a Primary Magic Book felt like the more affordable, practical investment for survival.
Hermione looked around the empty compartment to ensure she was truly alone, then pretended to read a textbook while surreptitiously pulling out the Primary Magic Book from the ether of her inventory.
The text swam before her eyes. The spells seemed difficult.
Isn't Hermione supposed to be a genius school tyrant in the original play? she thought, frustration knitting her brows. Why is my brain struggling to grasp this?
In order to survive in this different world, Hermione rationally felt that she should start reciting a few magic spells properly. She needed an arsenal.
Fearful of being discovered with a book that didn't exist in the curriculum, she quickly put the Primary Magic Book away, relying on the limits of her memory to recite the incantations silently.
The train rattled rhythmically over the tracks for some time. Outside the window, the English countryside rolled by in a blur of green and gray.
Suddenly, a sound from half a century ago echoed in the corridor. The sliding door rumbled open, and a chubby middle-aged woman appeared, pushing a cart overflowing with colorful packages.
"Anything off the trolley, dears?"
The air in the compartment was instantly filled with a mouth-watering sweetness—pumpkin, cocoa, sugar, and mystery. It made one's stomach rumble involuntarily.
Perhaps it was her nature as a time traveler, but Hermione found herself analyzing the situation with detachment. Compared with the Muggle world, the population of magicians was small. Logically speaking, this kind of niche market couldn't be very large. And what kind of factory produced snacks specifically for magicians? Was it actually profitable?
Hermione felt her thoughts drifting off-topic. She shook her head and instinctively touched her pocket.
She didn't have much pocket money. In fact, compared to Ron Weasley, who was famously struggling, Hermione wasn't any better off. Unlike the Harry Potter of the books, who began his journey by inheriting a vault full of gold, she was starting from zero.
"No, thanks," Hermione said politely, though her eyes lingered for a second on a Chocolate Frog.
The trolley witch nodded and moved on. What Hermione didn't expect was for the trolley to stop just a few feet away, at the compartment directly next to hers.
Then, a familiar voice rang out—the sound of sudden, local wealth.
"We'll take the lot."
The middle-aged conductor sounded delighted; she clearly liked customers with heavy pockets.
Hermione froze. That was Harry Potter.
She hesitated, chewing on her lower lip. Should she go over? Say hello? Maybe get something to eat and drink?
But her good education, her desire to maintain a lady's decency, and her inherently cautious character made her plan to stay put. It was safer here.
However, the System was restless.
Suddenly, the translucent blue text floated in front of Hermione's eyes again, blocking her view of the empty seat opposite her.
[Option 1: Close your eyes, meditate, and ignore the outside world. Reward: 1 Frying Pan.]
[Option 2: Go to meet Harry Potter and Ron and accept them as your younger brothers (subordinates). Reward: 1 Set of Magic Clothes.]
[Option 3: Pretend to meet by chance, and use magic to repair Harry Potter's glasses. Reward: Basic Attribute +1.]
Hermione stared at the text. She wasn't quite sure whether the "Magic Clothes" in Option 2 were ordinary student uniforms or high-tier gear with special stats. However, there was no doubt that Option 2 was the most difficult.
Harry Potter was a brave, upright hero, the protagonist of this world. He wouldn't be accepted as a "younger brother" or subordinate so easily.
Therefore, compared to the frying pan (seriously, a pan?), it was much more reliable to choose the basic attribute boost.
Hermione coughed to clear her throat, stood up, and smoothed down her skirt. She checked her reflection in the window—hair orderly, expression calm—and strode out of her compartment to the open door of the next one.
Inside sat two boys amidst a mountain of candy.
"Did you see a little frog that got lost?" Hermione asked, her voice steady.
Hermione was beautiful. Although the character was described as plain with buck teeth in the novel, in the movie universe, Emma Watson had set a different standard. But here, a certain rule seemed to have been broken even further.
This Hermione possessed an ethereal beauty, her temperament excellent, carrying herself with the natural grace of a lady.
Harry Potter and Ron Weasley looked up at Hermione at the same time, mid-chew.
Harry had messy, strange black hair and bright, arresting green eyes. He looked a bit like a "bad boy," his appearance sharper and more handsome than the novel's description. But the most impressive thing was his glasses.
There were many little boys wearing glasses, but Harry Potter's round frames seemed to possess a kind of magical charisma, making him look mysterious, like a true wizard in the making.
In contrast, Ron Weasley looked ordinary. Although his features weren't inferior to Harry's, his temperament always carried a shadow of insecurity. He had flame-red hair and blue eyes. Despite his pure wizard blood, his clothes looked worn, hinting that his family was not rich.
In the original story, Hermione eventually married Ron. But this Hermione—a low-key little princess from another world—felt no flutter of attraction. She would not easily fall in love with that boy. Not even Harry Potter.
Ron swallowed the candy in his mouth. "Confused frog?" he asked curiously. "What is that?"
Hermione was cute and beautiful, and Ron, being a normal boy, was naturally flustered and attracted to her presence.
Hermione replied smoothly, improvising, "Probably a magical jumping and flying frog."
Harry Potter, who was a magic student for the first time himself, spoke up modestly, though without lowering himself. "We didn't see it."
Hermione's gaze shifted deliberately to Harry's face. Specifically, to the bridge of his nose. There was a restoration spell in the Primary Magic Book she had just recited.
She was cautious. There were many elementary spells, and she had deliberately selected this one to learn for exactly this kind of scenario.
In the original series, the Muggle-born Hermione recognized Harry Potter instantly from books. Hermione didn't intend to play that card here. It was too eager.
But in order to complete her System task, she stepped into the compartment.
"Your glasses are broken," she observed softly. "And I just know a magic spell, so I'll fix it for you."
Harry looked pleasantly surprised, his heart beating a little faster at the girl's confidence. "Thank you so much."
Hermione fully entered their small box. The faint, clean scent of the girl—like vanilla and old paper—made Harry and Ron sit up straighter, feeling extra energetic.
Hermione sat on the edge of the seat, then paused. She coughed lightly, feigning a sudden realization.
"I left my wand at home," she lied effortlessly. "Do you have any wand to lend me?"
She knew Ron had a wand in his pocket, but she maintained her act of polite ignorance.