Saturday, August 3, 1991
Hermione eagerly turned the pages of her new Year 8 summer pre-reading. She was thrilled to return to her second year of secondary school and immerse herself once more in the world of academia. Her room was dedicated to the pursuit of learning, with bookshelves from ceiling to floor in her interestingly shaped room, a long desk with organized writing utensils and journals, and of course, her favorite window seat. She loved settling in for late night or early morning exam preparations with her comfy blue lap desk on her bed or among the golden pillows of her window seat.
Mrs. Granger loved cooking and gardening when she wasn't tending to her patients at the dentist's office, and the appetizing smell of lasagna wafted into Hermione's first floor room. Her stomach gave a low rumble and she stood up, walking to the kitchen with her nose in the book.
"Hermione, dear, I do wish you would speak with your father and me during mealtime. How has your week been?"
Hermione closed the book and placed it beside her generous portion of lasagna with an apologetic expression. "My apologies, Mum, the novel is quite interesting. My week has been brilliant! I was able to practice maths with the textbooks in the library."
"Was is this I hear of maths?" Mr. Granger ruffled her hair. "I thought you enjoyed reading history!"
"I quite enjoy all subjects. I've been rather busy this summer with my pre-studying for the year, but I miss the hustle and bustle of exams and such."
"Perhaps next summer, your mother and I will enroll you in summer courses at the university," Mr. Granger said, giving his wife a meaningful look. "You are almost 12 years of age, and it's as good a time to consider university as any."
"Of course, dear," Mrs. Granger smiled at her husband and daughter. "We will find a nice academic summer program for next year."
After lunch, the family cleared the table together. "What do you think of a cinema night this evening?" Mrs. Granger asked.
"A documentary?" Hermione looked to her mother hopefully. "Maybe Queen Elizabeth's era?"
"I was considering something more humorous, but if that is what you wish, we shall watch that." Mrs. Granger loved pleasing her only child. Hermione was such a help around the house with chores, always achieving top marks in school - she had no complaints about her. Yes, there had been strange occurrences through the years that she and her husband could not explain, such as Hermione's books levitating away from her when she fell asleep on the window seat, or her room fully cleaned after seeing books and clothes on the floor just five minutes prior, with Hermione visiting the loo. She and Will had disregarded these infrequent cases as a trick of the light, sleep deprivation or their failing memories as they aged, but Jean knew that her daughter was meant for something beyond a simple mundane life. She certainly charmed all she came across, being the enchanting child she was.
Mrs. Granger was shaken from a reverie by the doorbell chiming. She wondered who it could be on Saturday afternoon. She had just visited their neighbor Alma yesterday and delivered a cake to the new couple in regards to housewarming on Wednesday - her neighborly goodwill duties had been exhausted this week. She peeked through the peephole to see a hook-nosed man in a full black suit standing on their doorstep, his shoulder-length raven hair framing his olive toned face, a severe expression upon it. He held a large scroll in one hand and a letter in the other. With an irritated look, he brushed his hair out of his eyes and reached once more for the doorbell. Mrs. Granger braced herself and cautiously opened the door, the man rearranging his features into the briefest semblance of a more pleasurable expression upon seeing her. "Mrs. Granger, I presume?" He had withdrawn a note from his suit jacket and read from it. "I am here to discuss your daughter Hermione Jean Granger's upcoming academic year, as well as her subsequent educational journey. It would be best if Mr. Granger could join you, as this is a highly important discussion of the utmost urgency."
"All right, then," said Mrs. Granger nervously. She had relaxed a bit once he mentioned Hermione's education - after all, her angel was the model student. It could only be good news, right? Regardless, she did not wish to turn her back on the strange man. "Will!" she called into the house. She tentatively smiled at the man through the screen door, which she had left locked. "And you are?"
"Professor Severus Snape, Potions instructor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I have her acceptance letter from the deputy headmistress in hand." He indicated the letter with the briefest tilt of his chin.
Jean Granger's mind spun. Potions? Witchcraft? "If you say so, sir," she said before falling backward into a faint, caught by her husband who appeared belatedly, rubbing his eyes from his afternoon nap.