Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, and so do the rest of the characters, apart from minor OC - those are created by me. The plot also belongs to me, so I am to blame for every plot-hole you might see in the future :)
xxxx
CHAPTER ONE: HERMIONE WINSLOW-EVERETT
Mr. and Mrs. Winslow-Everett were no ordinary wizards as some would expect them to be. They lived on Sylvester Road, just two minutes away from Barham Park and it usually took them a total of four minutes to reach Wembley train station, so overall they were satisfied with their location.
However, living in one of the busies cities in the world had its perks and in no way limited their magic usage - on the very contrary, living in a lively area like Wembley meant hundreds and hundreds of people coming and leaving every day. How low were the chances of someone noticing something unusual, save for their quiet neighbours?
Mr. Winslow-Everett previously held a single surname - Winslow - and changed his surname to a double-barrelled, along with his wife, after they got married. His physical appearance was, for the lack of other words, disgustingly ordinary. Ironed crispy shirt, black suit, tie that never stood out; his hair was always up, usually fixed by tonnes of hair gel and sprays. If one saw him in a crowd, he would forget Mr. Winslow-Everett a few seconds later as there was absolutely nothing memorable about him.
Similarly, Mrs. Winslow-Everett, nee Everett, was a perfect example of a housewife from 40s, save for the way she dressed. She always had her hair tied back, with a hair band ensuring nothing got into her eyes while she was cleaning the house or doing something else. Unlike her husband, Mrs. Winslow-Everett didn't wear casual clothes; instead, her wardrobe was filled with summer dresses and baggy t-shirts, some of which included slang words that she was completely unaware of. And while her husband was said to be smelling like a pile of books and old documents, her scent was a mixture of home-cooked meals and flower beds.
And yet, no one was aware of the fact that this couple was, in fact, no ordinary couple. In fact, they were so un-ordinary, that even the couple that lived on the other side of the street - Jenna and Rufus who were constantly taken to the police office due to different offences - were seen by the two as ordinary. That was, of course, because they were wizards, but that wasn't the end of it.
Mr. and Mrs. Winslow-Everett were pure-blood wizards who wanted to have children for quite a few years now but, after seven or so years together, they weren't able to. This, of course, was a tragedy itself: a couple, consisting of two pure-bloods, couldn't have a pure-blood child? Everyone in the wizard world were overly aware of how little pure-blood families still existed and every single one of them was encouraged to have children, to continue the pure-blood branch.
The obvious resolve to this was, of course, breaking some wizard rules and visiting a few shops in Knockturn Alley, but Mrs. Winslow-Everett said straight out that she won't be engaged in any sort of dangerous or suspicious business and her husband could do nothing but agree with her.
Unfortunately for the two, the fact that they were pure-blood wizards that couldn't have children wasn't the only thing that was so odd about them. The issue was that Mr. Winslow-Everett has being previously exposed to Crucio and has never been the same since then. Unlike the majority that experienced the use of this spell on themselves one or two times, he experienced far, far more than that and this has severely damaged him, both mentally and physically.
As a result, it wasn't unusual for Mrs. Winslow-Everett to wake up in the middle of the night with her husband's hands around her waist with the latter one quietly whispering 'Help' and 'Save me' in his sleep, with a frown on his face and beads of sweat rolling down his chin. On some rare occasions, she would even wake up because something - more accurately, her husband's hands - were squeezing her throat, hence leaving her breathless. She never once mentioned it during their breakfast - or lunch or dinner, for that matter - and usually covered her bruised neck with a scarf or two. Of course, at the back of her head she believed that she deserved far better than this - anything would be better than waking up in the middle of the night with your loved one unconsciously killing you - especially seeing as she was a pure-blood, but they have lived together for over seven years and she had no intention of throwing it out of the window in hopes of finding a better husband.
About two years ago, Mr. Winslow-Everett began having some absolutely crazy ideas about That-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named suddenly attacking them because they were pure-bloods but didn't support his beliefs and decided to live in London, surrounded by muggles and everything muggle-made. Some time later, he began blabbering about Him being reincarnated and that reincarnated version becoming an evil wizard just as he did. She only shook her head and quietly drank her tea, thinking that it was just something that will stop in a due time.
Overall, they were managing their more or less ordinary existence. Mrs. Winslow-Everett cleaned the house, ironed and washed the dishes using charms and her loving husband cast a spell or two whenever he struggled cooking something - being one of the main cooks in an expensive restaurant was extremely stressful.
So when her husband didn't come home at six sharp on a Friday evening sometime in June of 1983, Mrs. Winslow-Everett knew that something was off. A rational part of her suspected that it was because he went to pub with his mates and celebrated Conservative's victory - in the end, they both supported Tories and Thatcher's success was indeed something to celebrate - but it has already been more than a few days since the general election. That, plus it was unusual of him to go and have a drink without telling her upfront.
A single ring - and she was already on her feet, rushing towards the phone.
"Hello?" she said hoarsely and coughed.
"Good evening. Am I speaking to Mrs. Winslow-Everett?" said a feminine voice on the other end of the line.
"Yes, yes. Did something happen to my husband?"
"No, he is completely alright. Unfortunately, he got into a car accident and the passengers in the other car-"
She didn't feel the need to listen to the end of her phrase and, after hanging up the phone, Mrs. Winslow-Everett, a pure-blood witch that lived on Sylvester Road and did shopping on her own, was out of the door, not forgetting to lock them on her way.
She used a spell that helped her find her husband and she was only able to get to the hospital in twenty or so minutes, thanks for the traffics and the extremely slow bus driver.
It didn't take long before she found out her husband's exact coordinates, so she walked up the stairs, trying to remain as composed as possible. He was alive and this was all that mattered.
A doctor just outside his room had to stop her before she entered. "I suppose you are his wife, Ma'am?"
"Yes, and I'm in a hurry," she said with a huff and finally entered the room. For extra privacy, she closed the door behind her and kept the sneaky (as she supposed) doctor out of this.
There, on a white hospital bed, sat her husband and he looked, pretty much, fine. In fact, he didn't seem to have a single scratch or wound on him, but it wasn't anything she didn't expect; in the end, he was a wizard, and that meant a few precaution spells while using muggle-made cars.
"Are you alright? Does anything hurt?" she let out worryingly, running up to her husband and giving him a tight hug. He responded to it with similar passion, but his voice trembled when he spoke up.
"I got into a car accident and two passengers in the other car... oh, Thalya, they died!"
Thalya stepped away and then sat down next to him, "Rowan, I'm sure that this wasn't your fault. Tell me exactly what happened."
And so he did. He told her how he was riding home from work, front lights of his car fully functional, and when he was about to turn right, a car rode right into his at amazing speed. The next thing he knew - the front of his car was smashed and he only survived, thanks to the protection charms.
They sat and spoke quietly for a few more minutes, each thinking of the bitterness of this situation, but it didn't erase the fact that Thalya was thankful for her husband's well-being; she didn't know what she would do if he died, too.
"But Thalya, that's not the whole story."
She instantly looked up, her gaze cautious and calculating. What more could there be?
"The two of them - a married couple, Grangers, if I'm not mistaken - have... had a daughter."
Thalya covered her mouth in horror. Now, it wasn't only about two people dying - now it was also about a girl that was left without her parents as a result of a car crash. Oh, God, that made everything so much worse.
"D-Did they tell-"
"Hermione. Her name is Hermione - that's all I know. Apparently, she doesn't have any grandparents, so doctors - or whoever it is that in charge of these things - will give her up for adoption or something. The house will be taken away. She really is an orphan now."
Thalya didn't utter a word; instead, she stood up and stretched out her hand. There was really nothing more to add to it. "Is she here?"
"I think they have already brought her here - I heard someone mentioning her name."
She nodded and urged her husband to take her hand, so he followed her lead. "Where are we going?"
Silence. "We have to see her, Rowan."
Rowan gasped and looked at her in disbelieve. "You can't really expect me to-"
"Only I do," she cut him off sharply, wheels still moving in her head. She licked her lips and nodded towards the door. "I don't expect you to burst into the room, crying about how sorry you are, because it was neither your fault nor you should be held responsible for it. I just want you to... see her. I think she needs to see your face."
"This face will haunt her forever, if she sees it!" he shouted out and Thalya shooshed at him.
"It's hospital, for Godric's sake! And stop blabbering some nonsense - everyone knows that it wasn't your fault, so stop acting like it was."
Mr. Winslow-Everett opened his mouth in order to argue with his wife, but she already opened the door and told him to follow her. There was nothing more he could do but to follow her.
Corridors on this floor turned out to be much cleaner than those on a floor below, noted Thalya to herself. Everyone were pretty busy, especially the nurses - she could barely catch a glimpse of them before they ran past her, sorting out some paperwork on the way.
Even though it was quite late, life in hospitals was never quiet, and if it was then something was definitely going to happen in the near future.
When Mrs. Winslow-Everett asked one of the doctors about Hermione Granger, the frown on his face deepened as if she just asked about Hermione's dead parents.
"Follow me, please."
It turned out that the room that Hermione was currently occupying was just a few rooms away from Rowen's, so the latter didn't have enough time to emotionally prepare himself for this meeting. Surely, she will be shouting at him, if not actually try and attack-
And imagine his surprise and the loss of words that he felt when, instead of an image of some twelve-years-old girl that he already made up in his head, he was presented with a small girl with bushy hair, no older than four.
She was just a child. An innocent, completely clueless child, by the look of it - she simply set on one of the chairs and talked to one of nurses at the best of her abilities, all the while swinging her legs back and forth with a toothy smile on her face.
Rowen felt his wife tense and a single look told him as much - she wasn't so sure anymore as seeing this little girl completely threw her off.
"Oh, hello, did you want something?" said the nurse with a bright smile. "I was just explaining to Hermione that her parents disappeared but they will definitely be back, right, sweetheart?"
"Of course! And they will bring me lo-o-oads of chocolate!" said Hermione as she giggled to herself.
Thalya controlled the sob that almost left her lips. Why would they do it? Why would they lie to her, before giving her up for adoption? Doesn't she deserve to know the truth?
"I'm sorry, who are you?" the nurse asked them, tilting her head to the right. "I wasn't informed of any visitors."
"Ah, we are... that is, we-"
"They are your new parents!" said a cheery voice from behind, while caused Mr. and Mrs. Winslow-Everett to swiftly turn around. There stood a doctor, no older than forty, who was smiling brightly at the small girl. It looked fake to Rowen's eyes but a simple child wouldn't be able to differentiate between an honest smile and a mere attempt of it. "Well, not new parents - I'd rather refer to them as people who will take care of you until your parents come back. How does that sound like?"
"I'm sad that my parents are away, but I guess I can't do anything about it..." said Hermione with a pout.
"Sorry, can we go outside for a moment?" said Rowen quietly and tried to put up a smile but it was pointless - he just wasn't the kind of person that smiled for no reason.
"Sure, sure."
When they finally left the room - Thalya went along - it took all of Rowen's will power not to take out wand from his back pocket and attack this poor excuse of a doctor. "What the hell was that?"
"Mr. and Mrs. Winslow-Everett, I presume?" said 'Dr Harley', as it was stated on his badge. His smile was gone in a second, and now his face reminded Thalya that of an old man that went through so much, he no longer cared or got surprised about anything.
"Yes."
"And Mr. Winslow-Everett here was the one that ran into Grangers' car?"
Rowen took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerve and the feeling on his wife's hand on his shoulder was partly doing the job. "Yes, but-"
"Police is doing their jobs, you know," said Dr Harley as he tried to calm down his messy hair. "They are catching criminals, putting them into prisons, do their best to ensure our safety, and they simply don't have enough time for these kind of occurrences."
"You call a car accident an occurrence?" sneered Mrs. Winslow-Everett; she was never violent and she barely got angry, but right now this doctor's arrogant attitude and absolute coldness was just pissing her off. "Admittedly, this was an accident, but police still has to investigate and prove that my husband-"
"Wasn't guilty?" he finished for her. "We know. That's why two cars will be removed from the road overnight and there will be no charges held against Mr. Winslow-Everett. How do we know that? Well, we don't simply trust people who got out of a car accident completely unharmed, but we already called a few mechanics to give us an overview. It seemed that Grangers' car was partially broken and we can only assume that they were careless enough as to completely ignore the damage - and that became their undoing."
Pause. Winslow-Everetts glanced at each other, waiting for Dr Harley to continue, but he simply stood there, waiting for their further questioning.
"I'm glad that I'm not pressed with any charges, but it doesn't change the fact that what you told to that young girl was completely mad."
"Mad, you say?" asked Dr Harley with a longing look. He then snapped out of it and crossed arms on his chest. "It only seems fair, doesn't it? Nowadays, way too many people are giving their kids up for adoption, especially teen mums who were too ashamed of keeping their babies. I just wonder what caused this sudden rise in sexual intercourses and pregnancies, as a result..."
"Nevertheless, you seem like a perfectly normal couple. I was already given your files - all the crimes you've done, how many kids you have, whether you ever showed some sort of extreme violence, whether you were ever charged with drug usage, et cetera - and all these files stated that you will be perfect parents. You don't have any children yet, do you? Ever wanted children?"
Thalya couldn't stop thinking 'mad, mad, this man is completely mad', but somewhere deep inside she knew that he had a point. They wanted to have children - or just a child - for so long... And here was someone that was practically offering them to take one without dealing with any files and any arising casualties...
"We need to think," said Rowan sternly and took his wife's hand. She followed him silently before they entered an empty room and both on the sat on chairs, facing each other.
Thalya didn't know what to say; sure, she was brave enough to tell him to go see Hermione and face his fears, but now? Whatever she said on the matter would sound wrong. Take the baby? Well, her husband was in a way responsible for her parents' death, although not in a way that even police would see him as guilty. Leave the baby? But didn't Dr Harley say that they were going to give this baby up for adoption anyway? Besides, the list will be long... and what were the chances that she will have normal parents - although, who were they to call themselves anything close to normal?
"I-I don't know," Rowan finally said with a sigh and Thalya couldn't agree more. "This is a baby - a small human being - we are talking about. I was quite literally the reason she became orphan."
"Don't say that," whispered Thalya, looking down at her dress - today she was wearing a white dress with roses and petals, nothing unusual. Even she had to admit it to herself that some of her dresses had patterns much 'weirder' than this. "There isn't anyone to blame for this - only their broken car, okay?"
Rowan didn't seem as convinced by her words but she realised that this time she had to take actions in her own hands. Was it fate? Just how lucky - yes, it was a sick luck, but luck nevertheless - were they? The realisation that they were about to adopt a baby and see her grow finally hit Thalya. It seemed like her husband was closely watching her face expression as a moment later he swiftly sat straight and began massaging his forehead.
"Even if we adopt her, even if we accept the fact that this baby isn't ours and I was partly to blame for her parents' death... how will you deal with the fact that she isn't a wizard?"
"We wouldn't know for sure," Mrs. Winslow-Everett said after a short pause. Neither she nor her husband cared about blood purity all that much - only their parents - but it would be indeed unfortunate if the girl was a simple muggle. Even if they were able to present her to others as their own daughter, people will make assumptions that she is a squib and treat her worse that they treat muggles. On the other hand, if they were to tell people they adopted this child, people will still look at them in disapproval, thinking to themselves that they were so desperate, they didn't even mind adopting a muggle baby.
Thalya refused to succumb under the pressure; she ached to just lay down, squeeze her temples until it hurt and get at least an hour or two to think this over. But Dr Harley made it crystal clear that there was nothing to change about this situation; they were either going to excuse themselves and drive home like they would on an ordinary Sunday, or they will take care of Hermione, muggle or not.
"So... do you want to adopt her?" Rowan finally asked the question she dreaded the most. Mr. Winslow-Everett knew that he was asking too much - he was, quite frankly, making his wife make this crucial decision.
"I-I do," she finally said and this was it.
xxxx
"Miss, are we going to your house now?" Hermione asked innocently as they took a bus just down the street towards their house. Thalya made sure Hermione didn't leave their sight, so she kept holding her small hand in hers and smiling.
"Mmhmm, and this means that you will be able to try out some of my dishes. Oh, and you don't have to call me 'Miss' - Thalya will do."
"Tha-lya," Hermione repeated and grinned; her smile was so heart-warming, even the ever-grumpy Rowan couldn't resist but smile back.
"That's right, and this is Rowan."
"Ro-wan. Rowan and Thalya."
Hermione didn't make any noises for a few minutes and she seemed to be deep in her thought. The couple couldn't help but notice that she seemed quite smart for her age; her vocabulary was much better than that of an ordinary three years old, plus she seemed to apply some logic to her words. The girl was smart indeed.
"What are we having for dinner?" she finally asked and stumbled when the bus turned to the left.
"What would you like to have for dinner?" Thalya asked in return, exchanging glances with her husband who acted unnaturally quiet.
"Hmm, my Mum likes to make lasagne and couch-potatoes whenever dad comes home extremely hungry."
Rowan's heart squeezed - she still talked about her parents in present tense. He dearly hoped that she will stay completely unaware for at least a few more years.
"Then this is exactly what I will make, we'll just have to get the ingredients from a nearby shop. Want to go and help me with shopping?"
Hermione's face practically lit up as she vigorously nodded at the suggestion and squeezed Thalya's hand even tighter.
When the three of them got off the bus, Hermione and Thalya waved at Rowan who waved in return and headed towards their house.
Thalya tried acting as cheery as she could around this tiny human being; she read somewhere that children, like dogs, were extremely sensitive and over-aware of the emotions that their companion is experiencing. It was something innate and sometime even the slightest shift of mood could lead to a baby crying and sobbing because she or he didn't understand what was happening but something just wasn't right.
And Hermione seemed to like her this way; she told Thalya dozens of stories about her parents, the little adventures she had with them, like travelling abroad and visiting lots of different places, and lots of other different things that she could remember. Quite frankly, Mrs. Winslow-Everett was shocked at just how good her memory was - were kids at this age that smart? Or, perhaps, she was a special case?
But the images that she painted were amazing and Thalya couldn't stop thinking about all these little things: sunny beaches, seagulls, strong - almost sickening - smell of popcorn.
Shopping went quicker than she expected and they were next to house that rightfully belonged to Winslow-Everetts.
"Shopping with you was fun!" announced Hermione while Mrs. Winslow-Everett was searching through her pockets for the house key.
"Well, that's good, didn't want to seem like some boring old hag," she murmured and was about to use Accio but mentally slapped herself. It didn't matter that Hermione was young, she would still understand that a sudden appearance of keys was unusual.
"Honey," she called out, hoping that her husband was in the house, instead of being at the backyard where he usually went while she was cooking their dinner. The ring next to their door broke months ago but neither was bothered by it, along with the fact that whenever they did think about it, they simply waved it off and thought about fixing it some other time.
When no answer came, she knocked on the door three times and sighed in relief when it was finally opened. "We bough some ingredients for dinner, along with a chocolate bar."
"Chocolate bar? My, I'd rather have some chocolate frog, if we have any in the cupboard," said Mr. Winslow-Everett which caused his wife to glare at him in annoyance and then swiftly nod towards the little girl to her right.
"You have chocolate frogs? Can I have some?" Hermione enquired with a big smile, but only received a confused exchange of looks between two adults.
"Ah, when I say 'chocolate frogs', I refer to the cookies in a form of frogs that are covered in chocolate," Rowan quickly amended, but it didn't seize her interest - in fact, she wanted to try one of those even more.
"O-o-oh, but can I have some?"
"Sorry, love, we are out of chocolate frogs... for quite some time now," Thalya explained with a soft smile and walked towards the kitchen, little Hermione following her a step behind. "Is little Miss going to help me with cooking?"
"Yes, Ma'am," she cheered; it was all that Mrs. Winslow-Everett needed to know.
xxxx
The next five years passed in a bliss - or that's what ordinary people would define their current situation. Just as Thalya expected, Hermione turned out to be an extremely smart and witty girl. At times it was difficult to separate her from books.
Mr. and Mrs. Winslow-Everett made sure she won't be able to find anything magic-related, including books and moving photos, so they had to hide it under a bunch of blankets in the basement. It was truly strange to have someone who couldn't use magic in their house; now they were extremely cautious in their own house and only used magic when she wasn't around. Hidden meaning: never.
Yet it didn't make them upset, nor it annoyed them - even the slightest bit. Truth to be told, it was nice to finally have someone else around, apart from themselves, who was able to lighten up everything around them by simply being there.
It didn't take them very long to get accustomed to each other. Due to Hermione's bright character, sometimes she would just sit on the kitchen table, wiggling her legs, and tell Mrs. Winslow-Everett about some little details and snippets of her past with the latter one cooking and occasionally nodding. Thalya, in return, told her a bit about herself - how she was born in a rich family and how everyone expected her to go on and be someone well-known and rich, yet she failed to do so and now lived with her husband in one of the busiest cities in the world. Of course, she didn't utter a word about magic and her being a pure-blood, but that was as much honesty as Hermione was going to receiver from her.
And in the end, years took their tall. Hermione began forgetting about her parents, she began forgetting about her life before she was adopted by Mr. and Mrs. Winslow-Everett, and eventually began referring to them as 'Dad' and 'Mum'. Although the two were alarmed by it at first, it wasn't as if they were to deny her this right and remind her of her real parents; and so they accepted. They treated her like their real daughter; they visited circus, went to the only zoo around, travelled around the country and didn't have a single care in the world. And when asked by others - be it their friends or random strangers - they would always say, "This is Hermione. Our daughter."
It was around the winter of 1988 that Mr. and Mrs. Winslow-Everett had to experience yet another shocking event.
"How was school today?" Thalya asked her nine-years-old 'daughter' as they walked back home and were about to cross the road.
"All girls in my class are talking about this new book - 'Matilda' - yet I can't find it in the library," Hermione said timidly and looked up with a hopeful look on her face. "Will you buy it for me, Mum? Please? Pretty please?"
"Hmm," she hummed, pretending to think. "This depends on what you've got in your last Maths test."
"I got full marks, Mum! You can even ask Ms. Rogers. She showed my paper to everyone and said that I'm the best student in the whole school."
"Mmhmm, so she did."
When they entered the house a few minutes later, Hermione ran towards the living room, only to sigh and sit on the lounge next to their telly. Her dad was fast asleep - it looked like he came home for a lunch break and decided to take a nap, but instead fell into a deep slumber. It wasn't unusual for him to do so, and Hermione simply sat on the lounge, tapping her knees and waiting for her Mum to come into the living room.
"You-Know-Who is reborn... You-Know-Who... will attack again.. the Boy with the Scar will be the Chosen One... he will bring misery and despair to all of us..." she heard he Dad's murmur in his sleep but didn't pay much attention to it.
In all truthfulness, this has being going on for as long as she could remember. Whenever she saw her Dad sleeping, he was always murmuring some gibberish about 'You-Know-Who' and some boy with a scar. She didn't know anyone with a scar and she even asked her Mum if she was familiar with a boy that had a scar, but Thalya always waved her off and said that her Dad was just becoming old, hence all these illogical dreams. But Hermione could clearly remember an incident two or so years ago.
It was rather late - definitely after midnight - and Hermione couldn't fall asleep for some reason. After turning and tossing around in her bed for good four hours or so, she got up and slowly walked towards her parent's bedroom. What she was presented with when she entered it, however, still shook her to her core.
Her Dad was half-sitting on their bed and his hands were placed securely on her Mum's throat; at the same time, Thalya held tight onto his hands and seemed like she was struggling to breath.
That's when it hit her: her Dad was strangling her Mum. And he was going that in his sleep.
She remember in a haze how Thalya was finally able to break Rowan's tight grip; she practically fell out of the bed and quickly picked up small Hermione, dashing out of the room and closing the door behind herself with a loud 'snap'.
They never discussed the nature of Dad's nightmares since then, but her Mum assured her that it never happened again. Hermione wasn't 100% sure whether she was telling the truth.
"Is Dad asleep?" Thalya asked when she finally entered the living room with a book in her hand. Upon further inspection Hermione realised that it was the infamous 'Matilda'!
"Oh, Mummy, you bought it!"
"I did, indeed, and it was hard pretending that I didn't," she said with a soft smile. "Now go to your room while I wake Dad up and send him off to work."
Hermione began nodding vigorously and ran up the stairs a few seconds after said words, only to enter her own room a moment later.
She had to admit that her room wasn't exactly the cleanest room in the whole world. All of her clothing was placed in the wardrobe and there was no rubbish laying around, like empty cans - it was her bookishness that cause the room to be so messy. She loved books so much she just never had enough of them, so sometimes she reread the same book two or three times, before her Mum took her out to a library or, even better, a book shop. So it was natural that sometimes she fell asleep with books on her face; when woken up in the morning, she had to place a certain book on a visible place, so that she would finish reading it when she got home. And usually this 'visible place' was the floor.
No matter how much she wanted to clean up at the moment, she just couldn't wait to finally open the book in her hands and begin reading. Hermione quickly changed, threw her stuff in a plastic bag by her doors (for all the dirty clothing) and jumped on the bed, opening the book and indulging into reading...
The book turned out to be one of the best books she read in a while. It was so realistic - save for her powers to move objects - that Hermione couldn't help but love the main character. She was somewhat jealous of her, of course - who wouldn't like to have some supernatural powers? - but she totally understood the situation poor Matilda was in. She was constantly undermined and bullied by her own parents and had to deal with all this abuse on her own... but she responded with as much as she got. And this true bravery, this internal strength impressed young Hermione so much that she ran out of her room and down the stairs until she reached the living room, with only her Mum there.
They had a long and interesting discussion about the book - that is, after Hermione quickly summarised it to her Mum - and then Thalya left to cook dinner for the three of them (Rowen was still working).
"I wonder if I can do something as extraordinary," Hermione huffed to herself as she followed her Mum and sat on a chair with a frown on her face.
"Well, it's all fiction, honey."
"I know, but I would love to do something... something that other people can't do," she explained and looked at the fork on the kitchen table. "Then I would be able to move objects and stuff."
"But that's not physically possible - and I know how much you believe in science."
"I do, but..." Hermione trailed off and looked at the fork with a certain tension in her eyes. Oh, if only she could do something like that.
Something inside her urged her to try it. It was stupid and completely unimaginable, yet every single part of her little body told her to try it. Was it foolish? Yes. Was this idea just a load of bollocks? Maybe.
But she was a child, wasn't she?
And there won't be any harm in trying.
Move. Move. I tell you to move
Move.
And then it did. A muggle fork on a muggle table in their muggle house moved.
Hermione's eyes widened while her mother let out a gasp.
She did it.
She moved an object without touching it, just like Matilda did in the book.
She didn't know what it meant yet, but Thalya mentally smiled and couldn't help but internally dance, as it could mean one and only one thing.
She was a wizard.
xxxx
Note 1 - From now on Hermione will be constantly referred to as 'Hermione Winslow-Everett'. Pretty obvious, I guess. Double-barrel surnames are pretty cool, so I couldn't help myself, heh.
Note 2 - I have no idea how long I want to stretch this story our for; same goes for the length of this story and how many years will be described (next 3 school years in Hogwarts? All 7? I doubt that but let me hope) Though I have to say that I already have a general outline for the next 3 years that will go rather different from the plot in the books... and Hermione might or might not be the only one that was slightly changed for the sake of this story *spoilers*
Note 3 - I hope you enjoyed the first chapter and will leave a review; if, however, you found it tedious or you simply couldn't/can't stand my poor grammar, well... I'm sorry to disappoint and I will be eternally grateful if you find me a beta, as English isn't my first language.