SUMMARY: Hermione has always known she was different; her parents and teachers always say so. But she'd never really ever believed she was very special. Hopefully, a visit from a woman in robes from a school called Hogwarts will convince her otherwise. Pre-Hogwarts.
"Good afternoon. Does Hermione Granger live here?"
Hermione can't help but stare as she peeks out of the crack in the door. "Yes." She opens the door wider, her eyes widening. "That's me."
The tall woman outside smiles. "Hello, Hermione," she greets. "My name is Professor McGonagall." Hermione straightens. Professors are teachers, and she has to be good for her teachers. "Are your parents home?"
Hermione cocks her head to the side as she opens the door all the way. She tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Aren't you looking for me?"
The woman smiles wryly again. Hermione takes this time to inspect the her. She's tall, with her greying brown hair pulled back and tucked under a pointed hat. Overall, the woman's outfit is quite odd. She's wearing long, dark green robes that nearly touch the tip of her black leather shoes.
"Yes, Miss Granger," she agrees. "But I am here to speak to them about you."
"Am I magical?" Her eager voice asks, then she shuts her mouth quickly. Oh, dear, now the woman will think she's crazy.
"Actually," the woman takes a step closer, but Hermione isn't scared. The soft twinkle in the woman's eye makes her excited all of a sudden. "Yes, you are." Hermione's eyes widen.
She was right! Oh, she was right! She couldn't believe it! Finally, after all those years, someone has come to back up her secret musings.
Hermione had always known she was special. She didn't like to brag, of course, but she'd always had a sneaking suspicion she was different from other children her age. And not the kind of "different" your parents tell you that you are to make you feel better. Hermione was extra different.
Because she was magical.
She'd practically known it since she was five - young, Hermione knew, but she had been quite smart for her age. At least, that's what her parents and teachers told her - the kids in her class didn't speak to her much.
Suddenly, all the memories from the day when she realized she was very very different came back to Hermione.
It was a hot summer day.
School would be starting soon - Hermione's first year, in fact. Starting Kindergarten was usually a big occasion for any child, but especially for a little Hermione Granger.
She was so excited, she believed she might burst. She was a bright little girl, so she was able to keep track of how many days before school. Her mother and father would laugh when, instead of asking them how long until school started, little Hermione would tell them how many days were left.
The day was a Saturday. Her whole family - though it wasn't too large - was home. Her father was reading a book at the table, and her mother was making lemonade.
Hermione was curled up on the big arm chair, reading one of the books she'd seen at the library in the big kids section - the little kids section was just not challenging for her anymore. The book was called Matilda, by Roahl Dahl. Hermione knew it was good, since her mother approved and smiled when Hermione picked it, and she'd also read a couple of Roahl Dahl's books before.
Hermione liked reading entire books in one sitting. It made her feel accomplished when she could pick a book up, read it, and then put it down again later, already finished.
That's what she was planning to do with Matilda too. Everything was perfect. Every fan in the house was on, but that didn't bother Hermione. The soft hums soothed her, and the sweet smell of lemonade was coming from the kitchen. Her hair was tugged back into tight braids by her mother, and she was comfy in the huge, puffy armchair that was nearly enveloping her small body.
And so she read. And she enjoyed it, too. She took a break at chapter seven when her mother brought her lemonade, but then went back to reading. But then, of course, after drinking a whole glass of lemonade, little Hermione had to rush to the toilet at chapter eleven.
Finally, though, she finished. She closed the books with a sigh, smiling.
That was a good one, she thought to herself. Matilda is rather like me, isn't she? She peered at the cover of the book, and nodded to herself. Yes, she and I are very similar.
"I finished the book, Mummy." Hermione piped up, sitting straight and turning to her mother.
"That's wonderful, love." Her mother smiled warmly as she came over. "Which one was it today? Matilda?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes. I think Matilda is like me!" She smiled.
Her father laughed. "I'd have to agree with you there. You two are very similar."
Hermione nodded and hummed in agreement, but then her smile fell. "I wish I was magic like her, Daddy."
"Oh, Hermione, you are very magical, trust me!" Her mother assured. "You're kind, and sweet, and smart. You and Matilda have a lot in common. You may not be the same kind of magic as Matilda, but we love you for you."
Hermione smiled. "I love you too, Mummy."
Her mother smiled back and headed back into the kitchen.
Hermione settled back into the armchair. Maybe she could be magical like Matilda. After all, Matilda didn't really understand her powers for awhile. Maybe if she concentrated really really really hard, she could move things with her mind just like Matilda!
Confident with her decision, Hermione looked around with something she could practice on. Furniture was too big, and her Mummy would get mad if anything was broken…
That's perfect, Hermione thought giddily when she saw the small bowl of pebbles on the table. Picking up the small, smooth stone in her hand she set it in front of her.
She took a breath. Concentrate, she told herself. She stared at the pebble, trying to remember exactly what Matilda did to move things with her mind.
For a moment, nothing happened. And then it moved slightly to the left. Hermione blinked. Her concentration was broken. Had she imagined that?
She took a breath again and stared at the pebble. Move, she mouthed, concentrating on the pebble. And it did. It moved to the left again, and Hermione smiled. But she couldn't break her concentration.
Up, she commanded. And it moved. It raised two inches, then three, and then four. It reached up to a foot above the table.
Hermione gasped, grinning. She'd done it!
All of a sudden, the pebble dropped, clattering on the table loudly. Her mother looked over at Hermione. "Sweetheart, what happened?"
Hermione stared at her. "Oh, nothing, Mummy. I just dropped the pebble." How was she supposed to tell her that she was magical? Would her parents believe her? Did she even believe herself?
All of this went against all the facts of science and math she'd ever read.
But she couldn't deny what her eyes had seen. She knew she hadn't imagined it. Her parents would have troubling believing her, though. She'd have to practice.
She looked at the pebble again, but then slid a coaster under it. That way, if it fell, it wouldn't make as much a commotion.
Hermione stared at the little pebble. She commanded it to move, or change, or do something. Show me a sign, she told it. Then she felt stupid for doing so. The rock can't think or hear, or do. It was up to her.
The rock didn't move. Not when she stared, or blinked, or mouthed, clenched her hands. It just stayed there, a pebble.
Hermione slumped in her chair after a minute. There was no point. Whatever she'd done earlier was gone now - but maybe not forever.
She decided to wait. Clearly she couldn't tell her parents now. She didn't have any proof. She'd have to wait until she did have proof; which could take awhile.
But Hermione couldn't help but have a sneaking suspicion that there were others like her - and that one day, they would come to her, and she would join them.
Because she was magical.
Hermione snaps back to the present as the Professor speaks.
"Miss Granger? How did you know you were a witch?"
Hermione grins. A witch? That was even better! That could mean she could cast spells and make potions, instead of just moving things with her mind. Hermione pursed her lips. "Well, Professor, I read a book." Hermione gave a secret little smile.
Professor McGonagall nodded and smiled, but her eyes were confused. Hermione decided she would explain everything inside - to her parents, too.
"You can come in now," Hermione held the door widely and Professor McGonagall stepped in. carefully taking off her hat and brushing off her spotless emerald robes.
"I'll bring you to them," Hermione told her. But the woman put up a slender hand in a motion to stop.
"Before we go in, I would just like to let you know, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall's eyes twinkled. "That a lot of the Wizarding World will be slightly shocking for you, but I can already tell-" the woman smiled and leaned closer so she could whisper to Hermione,
"-that you are very very special."