Authors Note: I am well aware that Hermione is an only child and, in that case, has no brother who is a Wizard but for the sake of this story, let's just say that she does.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything, wish I did though.

Prologue: I'm A Witch?

Hermione:

A girl only turns eleven once, right? It's a special day, a day that marks the turn into what we like to think of as adulthood when really we're only in year six and definitely still children. Well, I say most girls eleventh birthdays are special, mine was downright amazing.

I awoke at precisely 6:00 to find my parents at the foot of my bed, smiling proudly at their middle child. From the noise coming from down the stairs, it was safe to assume that my siblings were already up and waiting none-too-patiently for my arrival. They didn't say anything but left me to change in peace before I made my way down the stairs.

They were, as expected, all waiting for me. On our one and only sofa my eldest sibling, Michael, sat, a book propped on his lap and his glasses pushed up his nose. Beside him sat my sister, Savanna, her blond hair that was so much like our fathers scraped into a messy ponytail at the nape of her neck. On her lap sat four year old Will, his pudgy face pulled into a pout as he was forced to wait. Last but not least and sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest, a look of utter concentration on his face, sat fourteen-year-old Jason, his wand on his lap. Jason was a Wizard; he went to Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry even though he was what they called a muggle-born. He seemed to love it there, even though none of his siblings had the magic to go.

"Honey," mum began, holding out an intricately wrapped gift with a sky-blue bow tied on top. It was small but, as mother always loved to say, the best things come in small packages. Giving her a small smile I took it and tugged the wrapping off, shaking my head, the smile still there, as I saw the plain black box that nestled in my palm. I opened this and gasped at what I saw. Lying innocently in the black silk was the prettiest necklace I had ever seen. It was plain silver but in the middle there was the faintest drop of sapphire. All in all, it was beautiful. I said as much and received a small laugh from mum but only a tight-lipped smile from dad. It was clear that the jewellery was mum's idea. If up to him, I would have received a book.

Michael pulled himself from his book just long enough to give me an unwrapped gift of, surprise, surprise, a book. It was called Wuthering Heights and from the disapproving look from my mother, she deemed it either too old or inappropriate for my eyes. I had to roll them at that, I had already read Jane Eyre and Northanger Abbey but had always wanted to read that.

Savanna had given me a simple but stunning blue scarf, while Will had drawn me a picture of the family in his childish way. Jason, however, refused to relinquish his gift until later. It seemed like he was waiting for something – or someone – but didn't want to tell us yet.

Almost half an hour later, as we were eating breakfast, there came a knock at the door. Jase jolted up, smirking at us, before he stumbled into the living room and conversed with someone in quiet whispers. When he came back in, he was grinning and muttering, "I knew it, I just knew it," over and over under his breath.

I recognised the long white beard and twinkling blue eyes of the headmaster of his school, Albus Dumbledore. Today he was dressed in long, flowing, lilac robes, but there was no sign of the smile that usually adorned his face. Instead, he looked unnaturally grave.

"Albus," mum greeted immediately, offering his a cup of coffee, which he took thankfully.

"This has never happened before," he began once finishing his beverage, "But, as your son seemed to realise years ago, your youngest daughter, Miss Hermione Jean Granger, is a Witch. We have never had two children from the same muggle family before so you can see why I was dubious." Finally I saw the familiar grin stretch the corners of his mouth as he turned to me, "As your brother is already at Hogwarts, I believe you know everything there is to know about the school. Whenever is most convenient to you, I will take you to Diagon Alley and get you your school things. Here is a list." He gave it to me and proceeded to talk to mum and dad, doing weird impressions with his hands as he did so. Jase was still smiling wickedly and I turned an accusatory glare on him, "You knew?"

"I had to keep it a secret 'Mione," He whined immediately and I laughed, suddenly inexplicably happy. I was a Witch. As if my laugh had brought him back to focus, he muttered something and I followed him into the living room, where he gave me his gift. Upon opening it, I saw a really thick book titled Hogwarts: A History. Underneath that he had bought me my first spell book, the Standard Book of Spells: Grade one.

Best. Birthday. Ever.

XxX

It turned out to be exactly a week later that the headmaster returned to take me to Diagon Alley; it seemed that he didn't trust Jase and, from what I gathered when he came home for the holidays, I wouldn't have either.

It was early, about six o'clock, but I was already ready and as he was there, we decided to leave early after it had been established that I would meet Jase at one for an ice-cream.

"Diagon Alley is situated in London," Dumbledore explained as we walked, "There is a pub called The Leaky Cauldron. It is through the back." It seemed that this pub wasn't far from where I lived and we were there within five minutes.

It was a shambles but that didn't seem to matter because none of the muggles could see it. The black paint on the door was flaking and the sign above it creaked eerily if so much as a tiny breeze blew past. The inside was only marginally better. A rickety staircase led up to the rooms above and the pub itself had dust on every table and many of the chairs had broken legs. Dumbledore, however, ignored all of this, only offering a slight nod to the bartender, Tom, as we passed through to the back.

The back had nothing to it. Brick walls blocked us in on every side and atop one lay a sleek, black cat. I looked around, wondering how we were getting to Diagon Alley. The headmaster seemed unfazed, and tapped his walking stick against the stones on the wall with the cat. To my immense surprise an archway formed and we stepped through.

Diagon Alley was a long, narrow street, with shops like The Apothecary and Ollivanders: Wands for every occasion. All in all, it looked much the same as a muggle street except that all of the shops sold things for Witches and Wizards, and everyone was wearing robes.

A tall Witch barged past me, her fly-away grey hair pinned down under a bright pink, pointed hat. Before I could say anything I was dragged further along, where the most magnificent building I had ever set my eyes on appeared.

It was tall like a block of apartments, and completely cylindrical, with a large dome on top to complete the structure. Across the front, in glittering black print, was the words Gringotts.

"The Wizarding Bank," Dumbledore said by way of explanation and led me to the front door. Upon entering I saw rows of what I could only presume were goblins working hard at desks raised up so that the goblins had to peer down at the customers. I was led to the row at the end where an extremely wizened goblin had me sign some forms so that I could get a personal vault and change some of my muggle money into galleons.

With pockets jingling full of gold, we made our way to Ollivanders to get me a wand. Mr Ollivander was an ancient man wearing robes that seemed just as old as him but he seemed friendly enough, and gave Dumbledore the biggest smile I had ever seen on a man before.

"You are, my dear?"

"Hermione," I murmured, feeling cowed under the gaze of Ollivander, "Hermione Granger."

"Try this one. It has a dragon scale core, is ebony wood and is 9 ¼ inches."

I waved it but a vase behind the desk burst.

"No, no."

He stopped and stared at me as if seeing me for the first time after a long time, before a small smile curled the corners of his thin lips. He shared a glance with Dumbledore, and nodded as if to himself, before he disappeared again. A couple of minutes later he was back, another wand in his hand.

"Vine wood, dragon heartstring, 10 ¾ inches. It is incredibly rare, even more so than the Phoenix tail feather. Purchasing the heartstring of a dragon is a very tricky and costly experience which is why most do not pursue it. I do not know of any wands in existence with this core."

I stared at it for a moment before gripping it hard with my right hand, watching as it lit up merrily. I finally had a wand.

XxX

It's not every day you find out that you are a Witch but, for obvious reasons, you can't tell the muggles. That was why, when I went over to my'friends' house later on, I couldn't mention of the newest discovery.

Dudley Dursley wasn't really anyone's friend, but he had his own little gaggle of followers who were too scared to do anything else and, while I was not scared of him, I still accepted his invitation to dine at his house with his parents and orphaned cousin.

Harry was a nice kid, bespectacled, had jet-black hair and a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. For obvious reasons no-one was friends with him, but that didn't stop them from feeling sorry for him and I always spoke to him as nicely as I could.

Anyone who knew me in later life would wonder why I – of all people – received an invitation to the Dursleys, and I couldn't blame them. In actual fact I couldn't tell you why I received this invitation, only that I did. I couldn't tell you if Dudley actually liked me, or was just doing it to show off to his mates – I suspected the latter – but I was still going.

I hesitated outside their front door for a moment before quickly knocking and entering once Petunia had opened it. The Dursleys were all seated in the living room; all had disapproving frowns on their faces as they glared openly at poor Harry. I smiled at him before taking a seat.

"How are you my dear?" Petunia asked, "I trust you and your family are well?"

"Very," I replied nervously, giving her a tight-lipped smile before Dudley dragged me up to his bedroom. I was already feeling sceptical about this invitation but decided to say nothing as I was deposited, none-too-gently, on the bed.

"I have a bet," Dudley began, "That I can get you to kiss me."

I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. I mean, I was only eleven, he was ten. That didn't seem to deter him, however, as he roughly pushed me back onto the bed and crushed his lips to mine. I let out a tiny whimper of pain, attempting to push his massive bulk off me, but to no avail.

"Maybe we could go further," he whispered huskily in my ear but just at that moment, to my immense relief, Harry entered the room to announce dinner. Dudley hauled himself off and waddled out, leaving me alone with Harry.

"Are you okay?" He hesitantly made his way to my side as if scared that I would push him away. Instead of replying, I shook my head emphatically.

"Have dinner and then go straight home, Dudley's a pig," he snapped, gently pulling me up and watching me for a moment in silence. I nodded once, giving him a watery grin, before following him down the stairs to an uneventful meal.

XxX

Luke:

I've known I was a demi-god for years – since I was six actually and heard my mum talking about it to her mirror. I know that most people think that people who talk to mirrors are generally insane but – hey – I was only six so give a guy a break.

It was barely a week after that when I entered the kitchen to see mum sitting at the table with a strange guy. He looked like a statue, all stiff and poised, but he had wild, curly hair and the weirdest stick I had ever seen. It had two snakes curled around the top which I could have sworn were talking to each other. In his hand he held an I-phone but he was staring at my mum – or more widely known as May Castellan.

"May," he was saying, his eyebrows furrowed nervously, "You cannot. If it does not kill you, then it will send you insane and who will look after Luke when that happens?"

"You," was all my May said, tipping some brandy into her mouth and wiping her mouth. The other guy – I later learned that this was none other than Hermes himself – looked briefly troubled as he replied, "I have my job on Olympus."

As first I thought he was crazy. I mean, even from a young age May had told me about the Greek legends and that's all they were: legends. Neither had noticed me so I listened for a little longer.

"It will be interesting to see if the Oracle still has the curse on her," she replied, nodding drunkenly at the man I knew to be my father, "If she does then so be it."

It was at this moment that Hermes had to look up and see me. He smiled but it seemed slightly strained and didn't fool anyone. Before he left, he turned back to mum and said, "Fine, we can try, but it will not work."

"That's all I ask."

That was the last thing she ever said while still sane. After I was tucked into bed that night she crept out and tried to become the Oracle – whatever that was – and when she came back, she was most definitely not sane. Yes, I stayed with her, but only because I had nowhere else to go, no living family that I knew of beside my God of a father.

I grew up before my time and that was why, six years later, I found myself taking the slow, deliberate steps to the park where I could think about all that had transpired since May had become – or failed to become – the Oracle.

Unfortunately, however, my usual bench already had a girl sitting on it. From where I stood I could see frizzy brown hair that flowed down her back and she was wearing a plain white summer dress even though it was September. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and she was sobbing horrifically.

I could only stare at her in shock, upset to see someone so clearly heartbroken. After a few minutes, she seemed to sense my presence and raised her eyes to mine; quickly brushing away the tears, but more kept flowing. She had beautiful eyes of a soft, honey colour and her cheeks were flushed.

"What's wrong?"

She just shook her head, unwilling to talk about it, but I was known to be curious for no reason and genuinely wanted to help her.

"Please."

That was all I had to say. She raised her eyes to mine, smiling weakly and I returned it before listening as she said, "You've heard of Dudley Dursley, right?"

"He's a year younger than me," I agreed, nodding.

"He's the same age and me a…and I we…went over t…to his earlier…"

That was all she had to say, and all she could say because more tears were replacing the first. I didn't say anything but sat beside her and put my arm around her back. Eventually I did speak, "Ignore him. You're only eleven – right? – you have your whole life ahead of you, don't waste it on Dudley Dursley."

She caught my eye and let out a weak chuckle before nodding, "Thanks."

"No problem. Now, will you tell me your name?"

"I'm Hermione Granger."

"Luke Castellan," I greeted, holding out my hand for her to take, which she did with a slight smile.

"I live in number eight Privet Drive, near to Dudley's."

"Let's not talk about him. Come on, it's early and I'm hungry, let's go get an ice-cream."

"You get ice-cream when you're hungry?" she asked incredulously but she still took my hand and stood up, grinning tearfully at me. I gently removed a stray tear and put my arm around her shoulder again, hugging her to me.

Sometimes it sucked to be twelve.