"Hermione dear, I found something you might like at the library today." She handed the five-year-old a book. "It's by that man Roald Dahl."
"Thank you, mummy." Hermione said, walking over to her favorite reading spot. Her mom smiled at the precocious five-year-old before walking out of her room.
Hermione opened the first page.
It's a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is
the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think that he or
she is wonderful. Some parents go further. They…
Soon Hermione found herself immersed in the book, so it was an hour later when Hermione finally closed the book. The description of Matilda was a lot like herself, she thought. I wonder if I could do that…
Experimentally, even though she knew such things as magic didn't exist, she perched on her seat and stared hard at one of the books on her shelf. Come on, move, just a little bit…
Was it her imagination? Or was one of the books tilting ever so slowly out of their place… Yes! She thought. Keep going!
Jean Granger walked in her daughter's room, only to find her with her back to the door, staring hard at one of the books. She tried not to laugh, and looked at the book Hermione was staring at. Her eyes widened, and her breath caught in her throat. The book was moving!
