A/N: I don't own Harry Potter.

I was in my room when a knock sounded on the front door.

"Hermione, dear, can you get the door?" My mum called from downstairs. "I'm making dinner and your father is in the shower."

"Okay mum," I responded. I walked downstairs to the door and opened it. There was a woman there, but she looked very odd. She was wearing an emerald-green cloak and holding what appeared to be a long wooden stick.

"Hello," the woman said. "I am Professor Minerva McGonagall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. May I come in? I have something to discuss with you and your parents."

"O-okay," I said, not understanding a word she said, but nevertheless holding the door open. She swept regally into our living room and took a seat on a nearby chair. Her posture was rigid and straight, and her mouth was set in a grim line.

"Mum? Dad?" I called. "Someone's here who wants to talk to us."

"I'll be there in a moment," I heard my mum say. "Let me just put the food in the oven." I heard my dad come clumping down, and desperately hoped that he was wearing more than just a towel.

Luckily for me, he was clothed in more than a towel. He started into the living room but froze upon seeing Professor McGonagall.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" he asked. The stranger's eyebrows raised; clearly, she had not anticipated being spoken to like that.

"Perhaps I should explain once your wife comes in?" the woman suggested. My father gave a short nod, sat down on the couch, and fell silent.

After a short while, my mother came in and sat next to my father.

"Good afternoon," the visitor said. "My name is Minerva McGonagall. I am a professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am here because Hermione is a witch. Now, before you get the wrong idea, in our world, yes, I am a witch as well, a witch is a good thing; it simply means a female with magical powers. I have here with me," here she produced a yellow envelope with green ink, and handed it to me, "A letter that will tell you everything you need for school. All of this can be found in Diagon Alley. I will come by tomorrow to take you there and show you where to get everything. After we have finished shopping, I will escort you back here, and you will have about three weeks until you must go to King's Cross station. The platform number is nine and three-quarters. You get there by running through the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Do you or your parents have any questions?"

My mind was still reeling from all of the information that was being thrown at me. How could this be? I wondered. How could I be… a witch? I'm not magical. I'm just… Hermione. Just Hermione. Although, it does make sense that I could be magical because of all of the unexplainable accidents that have been happening over the past years. Like the time when I fell off of the tree but landed softly. And the time when I made that annoying girl's crayons melt together because she was making fun of my artwork.

I suddenly realized that both my parents and Professor McGonagall were looking at me. Have I voiced my thoughts? I hope not; that would be mortifying.

"Ummm…" I said, trying to guess why they would be looking at me. "I don't have any questions." Professor McGonagall stood up then, straightening out her cloak.

"Well, that will be all, then," she said. "Hermione, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodbye, Professor," I replied, testing out the title on my tongue. It felt natural. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Fin