A Time to Mend
It
was breakfast time at Hogwarts, and the owls began arriving in their usual
flurry. A handsome gray owl dropped a small package on Hermione's head before
fluttering into the morning. "Hey, Hermione, who's that from?" asked Ron, toast
crumbs spitting out of his mouth.
"Just
my parents," she replied, forcing a smile as she tried to discretely cover up
the return address. In truth, Hermione heard from her parents just about as
often as Harry heard from the Durselys. This would be her fifth year at
Hogwarts, so it had been over five years since she last talked to her parents.
The date of their last conversation had been August 3, 1991, three days after
she had received her Hogwarts letter. The day she had announced to her parents
that, for better of for worse, she was going to attend Hogwarts. She still
remembered the last words her father had spoken to her.
"You
are no longer my child. You are dead to me. In two hours, I expect you to be
gone forever. Here's enough money to get you to your Aunt Barbara's. Perhaps
she'll take you in." He then handed her a fistful of coins and turned his back.
Her mother never even looked at her. Hermione grabbed the few belongings she
wished to take and walked to the bus station.
Hermione
paid the fare and sat down. While she waited, the memory of three days earlier
played like a video inside her head. Hermione had shuffled down the stairs that
morning, yawning. "A little late, aren't we, Miss Sleepyhead?" her dad asked in
a condescending tone. Hermione recognized the look in his eyes. It spelt
trouble.
"Dad,
it's only seven thirty, besides, it's Saturday," she whined. "Sir," she added
on as an after thought.
"Don't
let me hear you take that whiny tone anymore."
"No,
Sir!"
"Here
you go, darling," her mom said as she tossed Hermione an envelope. "This was in
the mailbox today. I wonder what it is."
Hermione,
who hardly ever got mail, tore eagerly into the stiff envelope. "It says that I've
been invited to a school of witchcraft and wizadry."
Hermione's
dad suddenly ripped the letter out of her hands, slicing open one of her
fingers in the process. He quickly scanned it. "You know witches are of the
devil, Hermione. If I hear that you were even thinking about considering going,
you will be in for the beating of a lifetime. I want you to forget about this
letter." Hermione's father pulled a lighter out of his pocket and burned the
letter. "That's what they should do to the witches. Those new age lesbians
saying 'Wicca isn't of the devil, it's a bout nature.' Pshaw to that. It's from
Satan and nothing is going to change my mind."
Hermione
got up slowly from the table and began to leave. Her mother grabbed her arm. "Honey,
he only does that because he loves you."
"I
know," Hermione lied. She then sprinted up to her room. When she looked into
the mirror, she noticed that the paper cut had dripped blood all over her new pants.
They would need to be laundered now. Happy would not be the word that described
her dad when he found out.
Ralph
Granger was the pastor of an extremely small, extremely fundamentalist church,
and his wife, Eliza, was his secretary. Once Hermione arrived at Hogwarts, she
could never bear to tell anyone about her true family situation, pretending her
parents were dentists and even introducing her aunt and uncle as her parents.
Despite,
and perhaps because of, the way her parents raised her, Hermione had become a
free spirit. Always questioning the purpose of each and every little rule, and
breaking those that she felt were unfair. The same night her Hogwarts letter
arrived, Hermione got hardly any sleep. She sat up all night thinking, hoping,
wishing, and praying about an answer. Finally, she forcefully whispered to God,
"Lord, I really want to go to Hogwarts. If You do not wish for me to go, strike
me down, for I'd rather be dead than spend a minute more time in this house than
I have to. If nothing happens to me, I will leave for school with Your blessing."
She cautiously opened one eye, then the other. Well, she wasn't dead. The hard part
would be telling her parents. It had taken the better part of three days to work
up the nerve, but she had done it.
Hermione
had been jolted back to the present when the bus rolled in. She got on and arrived
at her Aunt Barb and Uncle John's house. They immediately took her in and began
preparing her for her new life.
When
Hermione arrived at Hogwarts, she continued to get excellent grades, she began following
every rule to the last letter. She felt if she broke too many rules at her new school,
God would revoke His end of the bargain and strike her dead. Slowly, and little
by little, Hermione relaxed. Every day she acted more and more like the
Hermione she had been before Hogwarts.
She
smiled to herself as she sat in the crowded dining hall. Why, just last night,
all the Gryffindor fifth years had snuck out and played Commando. She tore into
the package. On top of a mound of fudge, sat a letter.
Dear Hermione,
We
spoke to your parents yesterday. Your mother just gave birth to a seven pound, eight-ounce
girl. Her name is Alison Hermione Granger. They told us that the Hermione is
after a daughter they had lost in childhood. We know you'll be angry, but we
thought you needed to know.
With
all our love,
John
and Barb
Hermione
felt her eyes tear up and left immediately for her dormitory. She had a good
cry, and when she was done, she sat up with a brilliant thought. In these five
years, she had grown up a lot. Perhaps, her parents had, too. Hermione began
her letter.
Dear Mom and Dad,
I
want you to know that no matter what, I love you. I know I have disappointed you,
but you have disappointed me. My love for you is unconditional, like Someone
else we both know.
Love
for always,
Hermione
Hermione
sent the owl off, hooting softly as it soared to its destination. Maybe her
parents would respond, but maybe not. All she knew was that it felt good to
have the responsibility of mending their relationship in the capable hands of
her parents, and of course, God's.
