Why hello there :)
So this idea just came to me, out of the blue one day. I was probably in the shower, where life's most profound thoughts and feelings take place.
So there will be approximately 4-6 chapters per character, centered around different events. This is the first Hermione chapter, set right before she leaves for her first year of Hogwarts.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter = NOT MINE
*acgormy3
August 1991
Surreal.
This was the only word suitable for what was going on in Hermione's life. Had it really been almost two months since she found out she was a witch? Two months since she'd come home from her last day of primary school to find a sharp looking woman in a green cloak sitting in her living room? Two months since her life had changed forever?
That day had turned her world upside-down. As she sat, sandwiched between her parents on their living room sofa, she remembered thinking that this was some kind of cruel joke; that someone had decided this was too good to save for April Fool's Day. It was only when the woman (Minerva McGonagall, she had called herself), pulled out a thin stick of wood and turned their television set into a sheep and back again that everything had begun to fall into place in her brain. That time when the bullies who had been pulling locks of her bushy hair had been suddenly pelted with books from the shelf across the classroom. That other time when everything in her pencil case that had been knocked out of her hand was suddenly pointed like arrows at the two boys who had done it. The other strange occurrences that had been taking place lately; they all made sense now. Witchcraft. Even though it went against all the logic her parents had instilled in her since she could first walk and talk, she had no trouble accepting that this was now going to be a huge part of who she was. As Minerva McGonagall began to explain more about Hogwarts, she listened with rapt attention, all the while staring at the stick of wood still sitting in the woman's lap. She could feel a quiet power emanating from it; that must be the magic, she thought.
There was no longer a doubt in her mind. She was a witch. There was a whole new world out there.
This fascinated her. Ever since she was in nursery school and beginning primary school, she had always been curious and inquisitive and amazed by new things. When Professor McGonagall handed her the official Hogwarts letter, she sat without opening it for quite some time, running her hand over the thick parchment, the green ink, and the red wax seal with the strange crest. When she stepped through the brick entranceway to Diagon Alley, she was speechless; running from shop to shop and pressing her face to the windows, staring for so long that her breath would fog up the clear glass. But she didn't care. She was too busy absorbing everything around her. And it didn't stop once she got home; she shut herself in her room and obsessively read all of her textbooks, cover to cover. She drank in the information like a sponge. She walked around her bedroom in her full set of robes, and would twirl her wand between her fingers constantly. Once, she twirled it so fast and for so long that sparks flew out the end. She had let out a scream and dropped the wand onto the pink rug on her bedroom floor, but she had never been so elated in all her almost twelve years. She'd been counting down the days until she took the train to Hogwarts; marking an X through each day on her calendar before she went to bed with her favorite blue fountain pen.
But now that there was only one more box on her August calendar clear of a blue X, the world that had fascinated Hermione for the better part of two months was beginning to terrify her. Tomorrow she was going to leave not only her parents and her house, but her entire world behind until she came back for a short while at Christmas. What if she wasn't prepared? What if she had no idea what she was doing? What if people were mean to her because she hadn't grown up around wizards? What if she was so horribly behind with magic that her professors branded her an idiot for all seven years?
As Hermione lay on her bed, these worries began to multiply, so much so that she felt a physical weight on her chest. Although she had always been hugely praised by her parents, teachers, and other adults, she had a tendency to be very insecure with herself. She knew she would never get to sleep if she stayed up here with just her own thoughts for company. The elephant that seemed to be sitting on her chest would make itself far too comfortable if she stayed alone in her room. She swung her legs over the edge of her bed, stood up, and padded down the hall and down the stairs in her sock feet.
She saw her parents still sitting in the living room. Her father was sitting in his easy chair; glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he scanned the news section of The Daily Mail. Her mother was sitting on one end of the sofa; feet curled underneath her with her whole lower body covered in an afghan as she made her way through this month's novel. Hermione felt her heart swell. Although her parents had been more than a little confused when Professor McGonagall showed up that fateful June day, they had been nothing but supportive of her; driving her all the way to London and allowing her to drag them through Diagon Alley as if she had them on a leash. She knew they would never fully understand the world she was about to enter, but she also knew they would never cease to love her and giver their undying support. She was going to miss them more than anything. Her father looked up from his newspaper as he heard her step on one of the creaky parts of their hardwood floor.
"Hermione, darling!" Her father exclaimed, checking his watch. "You should be in bed, dear! You need to be well-rested for your trip tomorrow; it's going to be a long one."
Hermione sighed and walked into the living room, sitting down on the couch next to her mother and snuggling against her arm. Her mother took the afghan off herself and threw it over Hermione's legs. When she continued to stay silent, both of her parents put down their reading material and looked over at her; she was studying her hands in her lap and kept on taking deep, calming breaths. Her mother put an arm around her and began stroking her bushy brown hair.
"What's wrong, dear?" Her voice sounded concerned. "It's not like you to not be able to sleep."
Hermione took one last deep, calming breath. She didn't like announcing her weaknesses; she had always projected a strong and confident exterior, even around her parents.
"I'm scared." She said in a voice so small she could barely hear it herself. However, her parents knew her well enough to know what she was trying to say.
"For tomorrow?" Her father asked. She nodded, still looking down at her hands.
"Sweetheart, that's only natural." Her mother said soothingly. She looked fondly down at her bushy-haired little girl, who was usually so confident, looking nervous and unsure of herself. "You're going somewhere completely new tomorrow. You have nothing to compare it to, and you have no idea what to expect. Of course you're nervous!"
"I won't have any idea what I'm doing." Hermione said, finally looking up into her mother's eyes, identical to her own. "Everyone else has been around magic their entire life. What if I make a mistake or a faux pas and everyone thinks I'm an idiot?"
Her father, recognizing his daughter's distress, got up from his recliner and plopped down on the couch on Hermione's other side. He put an arm around her and gave her a reassuring squeeze.
"Hermione, dear, there will be plenty of other people in your exact situation. Even the kids who've been around magic their whole lives won't have been to Hogwarts before." Her dad assured her. "They won't know what to expect either. They'll get lost, be late to class, and mess up spells too. They'll probably even more likely to, because they haven't done all the research they can, read their textbooks seven times each, or pored over a map of Hogwarts day and night, the way you have. It'll all even out."
This speech left Hermione feeling slightly better, but the elephant on her chest had only slightly reduced; it was only about the size of a rhinoceros now. She put aside all her confidence and pride for this one moment and finally asked the real question that had been plaguing her; the one that riddles all pre-teens everywhere: "What if I don't make friends? What if I don't fit in?"
Both her parents felt their hearts break as they heard their daughter's small voice finally spill her insecurities. They were sad that this was what she was focusing on instead of being excited about the new journey ahead of her, like she had been the past two months.
Her father took both her shoulders in his hands, and turned her so that she was entirely facing him, looking directly into his hazel eyes with her chocolate brown ones. "Hermione, you listen to me," he began. "You are one of the most wonderful people I have ever met. You're kind and curious and sympathetic and smart. That is the kind of person people want to be friends with. You're going to find your niche very soon, and it's only going to get better as the years go on. Just go in there and be yourself. You're going to wow them."
Hermione's eyes were shining with tears as she hugged her dad harder than she ever had. "I'm going to miss you two," she said as she turned to her mother and squeezed her with all her might. "I'm going to write you all the time."
All three of them had tears in their eyes as they formed a giant three-person hug on their sofa, as the rhinoceros residing on Hermione's chest slowly shrunk until it disappeared, replaced with a flame of excitement and pride.
She was going to wow the Wizarding World.