"Happy birthday Hermione!"
Hermione rubbed her eyes and yawned sleepily, brushing her bushy hair away from her eyes as her mother and father rushed into her bedroom, expressions of delight on their face.
"Thanks, mum…dad…"
"Now we can't stay for long, because we're needed in the clinic, but we just wanted to wish our daughter happy birthday before we left," Her father said, peering down at her, beaming.
"Seventeen! All grown up! It feels like yesterday you were just…" Her mother's voice trailed away as she pinched Hermione's cheeks irritatingly.
As soon as she heard the front door slam, Hermione leapt out of bed, heart racing. She was seventeen now, so she no longer had the Trace on her! She plunged her hand into her neatly packed school trunk and removed from it her wand. Turning round, she spent a good ten minutes making various objects in her room whizz through the air. It wasn't until a delicate glass paperweight smashed into A Standard Book of Spells: Grade 6 that she decided to go outside and practice on less valuable objects.
Meanwhile, 15-year-old Sam Bennett gazed at the Granger house from his bedroom window. He wondered what Hermione was doing now, whether she even knew he existed. Ever since he had caught sight of her when he moved into Number 6 he knew she was special, different. He just couldn't quite fathom how.
His heart leapt as he watched her front door open for a second time and Hermione swept from it, looking flustered. She was tucking something into her jacket pocket… was it a twig? He seized his coat from a hook behind the door and went out into the crisp morning air to follow her. He stayed at a distance, following her until she reached a riverbank. He watched eagerly as she sat down on a hollow log and pulled out the object – it was definitely some sort of stick – from her jacket and began twirling it between her fingers. He furrowed his brow. Sam had never been a typical teenage boy, but he was sure that even this was not normal.
Sam had to clasp his hands to his mouth to stifle a gasp as, before his very eyes, he watched a fish, shining silver and sleek, leap out of the river and do a sort of pirouette mid-air. It hovered there for a moment, before diving gracefully back into the water. This was Hermione's doing, he was sure of it… but how absurd was that idea? Did the girl have the power to control animals? Make them do her bidding? Or was this much more than that? Of course not, Sam, he told himself, don't be stupid.
For a second time, he was almost forced to swallow his fist to stop himself shouting out as Hermione twirled the stick in her hand and a dozen birds from the trees above swooped down and performed… but surely he was imagining it… they began to perform a dance. One bird swooped lower and in sync they mirrored each other's moves, graceful and orderly. This is messed up, he thought, scratching his head, I'll bet she's just as surprised as I am.
Unsure of what he was doing, he called out.
"Hey!" He began, but stopped, unsure of what to say.
Her head whipped round and her eyes widened at the sight of him. She quickly began to stuff the twig back into her jacket, and forced a half-smile onto her face.
"Oh, hel-hello there… I was just… You're that Sam boy from Number 6 aren't you?" Realization seemed to dawn on her face. "Wait… you didn't… did you follow me here?"
"Yes!" he said defiantly. "And I've seen what you can do! You… you can get locked up for that! You're… you're weird… I need you to show me how you do it. Teach me!" he demanded.
To his dismay, she shook her head sadly. "You don't understand. You don't know what you saw."
"Yes, I do! I saw you making those animals do weird things with that stick of yours. Odd things. Unnatural things. But you don't need to worry because I'm different too. We're the same, me and you. Outcasts. We're misunderstood…"
Hermione's face flushed. "I am not an outcast! Well, maybe in the Muggle w-" now it was her turn to clasp her hands to her mouth, but too late.
"Muggle? What does that mean? There's more to this… are there more of you people? Tell me! I want to join you!"
To his surprise, Hermione simply seated herself back down on the log, head in her hands. "You don't understand, Sam. It's not something you can just… learn. I'm really sorry I have to do this."
"Sorry? Wha-"
But Hermione, her hands trembling, was removing the stick from her pocket once more. This time, she pointed it directly at his forehead, took a deep breath, and,
"Obliviate."