Mind Games

Chapter 1

Hermione Jean Granger wasn't a normal girl. Normal girls didn't study advanced coursework five grades above their level when they got home from school. Normal girls didn't memorize their textbooks by heart. And normal girls didn't have a wizard for a father.

Hermione woke up early, as she had every morning since her eleventh birthday. She didn't want to miss the owl carrying her Hogwarts letter, confirming what she had known since she was five when her father had decided he could trust her with something that she had to keep a secret. Even from her mother. Forcing herself to look away from the window, Hermione reminded herself that she had to be perfectly patient at Hogwarts. Like her father said, all good things come to those who wait, and besides she would never gain respect if she seemed too exited or to care too much. It just wouldn't do. Shaking her head, Hermione walked downstairs.

After eating her breakfast, she began to do her hair. Even that would be tricky. As a half-blood she was already at a disadvantage. In order to do things, she had to be clever and gain respect instead of just relying on money or the power of her family's name. She couldn't seem like she cared too much, but she had to look as close to as that as possible.

"Hello, father." She said, walking into the kitchen.

"Hermione, do sit down." Hermione slid into the chair across from him, smiling.

"Around what time are we going to go to Diagon Alley?" She asked.

"I have scheduled an overnight camping trip this weekend. Your mother, of course, will believe anything I tell her as long as it gets you out of the house."

"Are you sure? She's smart. Don't you think she'll notice something's up. Because she hates me, she's more likely to be suspicious." Hermione reasoned.

"She's a muggle." He said shortly.

"Not all muggles are stupid. Some are smarter than wizards." Hermione insisted. "Emma's smarter than Mr. Goyle. So's Jason. And Kyle. And even Bethany. You married one."

"Never, never, say that at Hogwarts." Her father said in a grave voice. "Muggles are inferior to wizards. You're better than that. And I'm very disappointed in you."

"Yes, father." Hermione said, looking downwards. She couldn't believe she had been so stupid. Her father was right to be disappointed in her. She was better than that. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Hermione." He reached across the table to hold her hand, looking sad. "I only want the best for you. You just need to be careful. I want you to succeed, as you want for yourself."

"I understand." Hermione was glad her father was there for her, that he had taught her so much. "I'll be more careful in the future."

"When I married your mother, I was young and stupid. My family disowned me, and I didn't care. Only later did I realize my mistake and I've been dealing with the consequences ever since. I don't want that for you." Hermione nodded as her father continued. "You're a smart girl. You can make your way. Forge alliances. Develop connections. One day you could find yourself close to the top of the ministry." He smiled at her before getting up.

"What do I say if people ask about it at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Whatever you must. You can tell them that it was necessary, or that I made a mistake, just as long as it will help you. And whatever you choose, you must, must, be dismissive of your mother. Do you understand? She's just a muggle."

"She's just a muggle." Hermione echoed.

Hermione ran down the stairs, skipping every other step. "Father! You're home!" She said, smiling.

"What's all the excitement about?" He asked, although Hermione was certain he already knew.

"I got my letter!"

"Excellent. And your mother did not see?" He asked.

"Of course not. I went to get the post because she was still sleeping, and there it was! Seal and everything!" She was practically jumping up and down now.

"Well, it's just in time!" Her father said. "Our 'camping trip' is tomorrow."

Hermione couldn't sleep. When the clock read 3:00 a.m., she stopped trying and got dressed in the too-large set of robes that had been her father's. She would be wearing new ones to Hogwarts, of course, but seeing as she had none of her own and it would not do to be seen in Diagon Alley with muggle clothing, she had to wear these. It took forever to make sure that she didn't look silly in them, but eventually she managed it.

Her father took her on a train to London. As they traveled, he took out the magical textbooks that he kept hidden from Hermione's mother. Hermione rarely got the chance to look through them as she knew what would happen if her mother saw them. She would throw them out of the house, Hermione at least, and even if she didn't do that she would tell everyone who would listen. Then they would get in trouble for breaking the International Statute of Secrecy. Once, she had asked why they couldn't just tell their mother, why witches and wizards had to live in secret. "Muggles are hateful." Her father had responded.

"But wizards are hateful sometimes too." She had insisted.

"Wizards are outnumbered. If the muggles found out, it could be a disaster. Image thousands of mosquitos swarming around you. One you could crush, but that many? Not a chance. This needs to be kept a secret. Do you understand, Hermione?"

"Yes, father." She had said, but she still didn't think it was fair to say that muggles were like mosquitos. It just felt wrong.

"Tell me something about Wendelin the Weird." Her father questioned, pulling her out of her memories.

"Er – she lived during the time when they, muggles I mean, would burn witches. She liked the way flames felt with a flame-freezing charm so much that she was burned a bunch."

"Good." Her father said as the train rolled to a stop. "You'll do just fine at Hogwarts."

Hermione followed her father through the streets until she reached the Leaky Cauldron. "Why can't they see it?" Hermione asked, remarking on the way the muggles' eyes slid from one building to the next without ever stopping on the Leaky Cauldron.

"Their perception is limited. They couldn't see it even if they tried." Her father answered, smiling slightly. As they walked into the inn, Hermione stood up straight and tall. It was not only necessary because she needed to look confident; it was the only way she could avoid tripping over her robe.

Her father tapped on several bricks and an archway appeared. Behind it was a winding, busy street full of people moving about.

Hermione got her textbooks at Flourish and Blotts, and after looking through them she decided that she most looked forwards to Transfiguration, although potions was a close second. Her liking for potions, however, was immediately turned off when she entered the shop for potions materials. The smell alone was enough to make anyone want to throw up.

Before long, Hermione found herself at Ollivanders. "A respectable family." Her father commented. "And the best wand-maker in the country! Indeed, in my opinion he is the best wand-maker in the world!" She wondered why her father seemed to approve of him so much. "He was a Ravenclaw, you know. His son was in my year at school. A good ally."

Hermione entered the strange store filled with boxes of wands. Mr. Ollivander, who had been searching through his stack of wands muttering "curious", turned to face her. "Ms. Granger, and your father! It's good to see you!" Her father smiled slightly.

"Well, here to buy your wand? Excellent. Try this one." He took a light colored wand out. "Birchwood. Unicorn hair. 10 inches and springy.

Hermione waved the wand about and a few wands shot out of their places on the shelves like bullets. "Definitely not." Mr. Ollivander informed her. "Vinewood. Dragon heartstring. 8 and a half inches, and firm."

The second she began to wave it, Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of her hand. "Much too short. Try this." It seemed that it was difficult to find a wand to match. At one point she tried a vinewood wand, which Mr. Ollivander stared at for a long time before shaking his head. During this time, Mr. Ollivander and Hermione's father had started up a conversation.

"You knew my son at Hogwarts." Mr. Ollivander remarked.

"Yes, we were good friends." Hermione's father said.

"Hmmm. I see." Whether this was towards her or her father, Hermione wasn't sure. "Ms. Granger, try this one. Willow, nice and springy, with a dragon heartstring core. Ten and three-quarters inches."

He passed it over to her delicately, seeming a bit tired. As soon as she touched her wand, Hermione knew this was the one. It just felt so right – not joyful, but right, as if it had been part of her from birth. It took a few seconds to realize she was hovering an inch off the ground.

"Excellent, excellent." Mr. Ollivander said, clapping his hands together. Hermione payed for her wand and walked out with her father.

"Got everything?" Hermione looked at her school list.

"Yes." She responded.

"All that's left is to get you a pet. Not having one would make it seem like you can't afford one, but you cannot have one that's harmful to your reputation." Her father told her as they walked to the pet shop, Magical Menagarie.

Inside, it was chaos. Owls hooted, cats meowed and hissed, toads leaped, rats performed tricks in little cages, colorful snails oozed about, and it smelled horrible. Hermione's eyes immediately fell on a scruffy orange kitten mewling in the corner. "Father, can I have that one?" She asked pleadingly.

"I wouldn't get that one if I were you." The witch at the counter said. "He's poorly behaved, and no one wants him."

"Please?" Hermione asked again.

"No. It would harm your reputation and besides, I don't have an owl so you should have one to contact me and such. Very useful." He insisted

"Father, there are school owls." She reasoned.

"You may have to contact me from somewhere else. And you're not getting that cat. Which owl do you want?" Eventually she found a tiny pygmy owl that could carry letters and not much more. Owls were expensive, but having an owl was incredibly useful and it showed that you could afford one.

She named her owl Archimedes, after the wizard scientist who had shared his discoveries with the muggles. Her little Archimedes was foolish but intelligent, so the name fit perfectly.

They stayed in the Leaky Cauldron overnight as they were supposed to be camping. As they took the train home, Hermione studied her textbooks, trying to take her mind off the way her mother would yell at her when she got home. Her mother hated her for her strange powers, and her father couldn't protect her all the time. I'll be free of her in a few weeks, she told herself again and again, I shouldn't be afraid of her. She's only a muggle.

She's only a muggle.