Hermione Granger and the Philosopher's Stone
Chapter One – The Boy Who Lived
Mr and Mrs Granger, of number eighteen, Tryon Street, were proud to say that they were currently living in a very nice area of London, and were intelligent and well-educated people. They were not, perhaps, the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, but they were probably high up on the list.
Both were dentists. Mr Granger was a tall, skinny man with a long thin neck and a smattering of stubble across his chin and upper lip. Mrs Granger was slim and dark-haired and spent much of her time further studying dentistry, despite already being extremely well-educated on the subject. The Grangers had a small daughter called Hermione and in their opinion there was no finer girl anywhere.
The Grangers had everything they wanted.
When Mr and Mrs Granger woke up on the dull, grey Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr Granger hummed as he picked out a blue stripy tie for work and Mrs Granger talked away happily to a gurgling Hermione as she coaxed her into her high chair.
None of them noticed a large tawny owl flutter past the window.
At half past eight, Mr Granger picked up his briefcase and pecked Mrs Granger and Hermione on their cheeks. He started to leave before having a change of heart and turning round and giving Hermione an affectionate tickle under the chin. They both chuckled. 'Be good for mummy,' chortled Mr Granger as he left the house. He got onto his bike and sped out of number eighteen's drive.
As he cycled towards the centre of town he thought of the long list of appointments he had to face that morning, including a particularly nasty case of gum disease. He shuddered.
But as he neared central London, gum diseasey patients were driven out of his mind by something else. As he cruised past the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr Granger couldn't help being amused by people who dressed in funny clothes – the get-ups you saw on young people these days were enough to make anyone chuckle. He supposed this was some new fashion. He braked slightly as he hit a gentle downhill slope and his eyes fell on a huddle of cloaked people standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr Granger was confused to see that they weren't young at all; why, that man had to be at least forty, and wearing a royal-blue cloak! How odd. But then it struck Mr Granger that these people were probably collecting for something... yes, that would be it. He passed them by, and a few minutes later, Mr Granger arrived in the dentist's car park, his mind back on teeth.
Mr Granger always sat facing the window when completing paperwork in his office on the second floor. However, that particular day, he had very little paperwork to complete, and spent the majority of his day with his back to the window, peering into the mouths of people of various ages and tooth-types. This was lucky, for if he had been sitting at his desk, he might have found it extremely difficult to concentrate on his work that morning. He didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down on the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at night-time. Mr Granger, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He gave stickers to five different well-behaved children. He did not give stickers to a further seven badly-behaved children. But he was in a very good mood when midday came around and he left the building to cycle home, and to buy himself and his wife a sandwich each, and perhaps a little something for Hermione, from the little café down the road.
He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the café. He eyed them curiously as he passed. He didn't know why, but they interested him. This lot were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collection tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching two large sandwiches and a tiny slice of banana cake, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.
'The Potter family, correct, or so they say-'
'-of course, their boy, Harry-'
'-The Boy Who Lived-'
Mr Granger could catch no more without stopping and looking suspicious. He felt a shiver trickle down his spine, but he wasn't sure why. He looked back at the whisperers, almost contemplating asking them what all the fuss was about, but thought better of it.
He was so lost in thought as he strolled back to his bike that he walked straight into someone.
'Oh, gosh, sorry!' He stammered, as both men stumbled. It was a few seconds before Mr Granger realised that the man was wearing an indigo cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being bumped into. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a raspy voice: 'Not at all, good man, I am in a mood so joyful that nothing could deter it! Celebrate, for He Who Must Not Be Named is finally rid from our world! Muggles too, including yourself, should rejoice this brilliant day!'
And the man heartily shook Mr Granger's hand and walked off.
Mr Granger stood rooted to the spot. Had that man just called him a Muggle? Whatever could that mean? He was bamboozled. He hurried to his bike and set off home, hoping that nothing else peculiar would happen to him on the way.
He pulled into the driveway of number eighteen and let himself into the house.
Mrs Granger had had a nice, normal morning. She told him over their sandwiches that Hermione had said her first word ('book'). Mr Granger didn't mention the odd occurrences of the day to his wife – by that time, they were gone from his mind.
When Hermione had been put to bed for her nap and Mrs Granger had left for work, Mr Granger went into the living room to catch the end of the news:
'And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern.' The news reader allowed himself a grin. 'Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more shower of owls tonight, Jim?'
'Well, Ted,' said the weatherman, 'I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early – it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight.'
Mr Granger sat thinking in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place?
When Mrs Granger arrived home from work that evening she made them both a cup of tea and sat with Mr Granger in the living room. He could not get the day's strange events out of his head. He'd have to say something to her. 'Do you know, dear, there was some very strange stuff on the news today. Owls... shooting stars... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town...'
'Oh yes, I saw them!' Mrs Granger sipped her tea and widened her shiny green eyes. 'Wearing cloaks and muttering to each other, these lot.' Mr Granger nodded his head, eager to discuss them.
'Yes, quite! They made me feel rather...'
'Inquisitive? Confused? Unnaturally interested?' His wife smiled slightly. 'Yes, me too.'
Mr Granger laughed. 'Listen to us, jabbering away like old conspiracy fools. How superstitious and stereotyping of us to be confused by a few oddly dressed people!'
'And a couple of owls and shooting stars.' Added his wife. They looked at one another, the thirst for knowledge blazing in their eyes.
'Well, there's really nothing we can do about it. I propose we see what tomorrow brings.' Said Mr Granger, getting up and making his way through to the kitchen to make a start on dinner.
He didn't say another word on the subject as they ate dinner and went upstairs to bed. Mrs Granger fell asleep quickly but Mr Granger lay awake, turning the day's events over in his mind. His last, comforting thought was that tomorrow would probably be just another normal day (which he was very right about) and that he would probably never see another day-flying owl or cloak-clad person.
How very wrong he was.