DISCLAIMER: Still not JK Rowling...

2 Years Old

Hermione walked confidently over to the matron. "Excuse me, could I please have some water?" She said. The woman's face went white. Toddlers do not speak like this, she thought to herself. There is something wrong with this child. She must be kept away from the other children.

4 Years Old

The room was plain. A single cupboard with six shelves—one for each girl, and six beds. There was only one girl in the room though, reading a large book. She had curly brown hair, brown eyes and pale skin. Hermione sighed. The other children did not like her very much. She had mad a grave mistake in revealing her intelligence so early on. She supposed she made them nervous. Hermione idly wondered how they'd react when she got her Hogwarts letter. She twisted a brown curl around her finger and examined it. She didn't look exactly the same as she had before. She could see her old face staring back at her, but the shape of her hands and feet, the long slender fingers, the soft curls instead of an untameable mane—she supposed she had Death to thank for those.

6 Years Old

Hermione was bored out of her mind. She sat in class, and leaned her chair back so that only two legs rested on the ground. They were taking a "test". She'd finished the whole thing in about five minutes. What a waste of time. She could have been in the library, reading. She could've gone to Diagon Alley again. She smiled fondly as she recalled her first foray into the wizarding world. It'd been a year ago, when she'd been particularly bored and lonely. She'd suddenly realized there was nothing stopping her from visiting the wizarding world. She'd already called up Harry, Ginny and her parents several times. She could use the wand to help direct her magic, and the invisibility cloak to conceal her. Closing her eyes, she had imagined pulling the cloak over herself. She'd cracked open an eyelid and seen that it had worked. Then she'd turned on the spot, and apparated right in front of the Leaky Cauldron. She had gone into the back, unnoticed, and tapped the appropriate brick with her finger, sending magic into it. She'd stepped through into Diagon Alley and looked around in wonder. It had been maybe the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen. She'd stood there, taking it in, for several minutes before heading to the first bookstore she could find. Unfortunately, Hermione did not have a lot of money… Her chair fell back onto all four legs as she had an epiphany. INVESTMENT! She screamed mentally. As soon as this class was over, she'd go to London and open a bank account. Would they let her open a bank account? She scowled. She'd ask the matron.

8 Years Old

Hermione sat alone in the bathroom, a purple potion in a small flask in front of her. Taking a deep breath, she chugged it and immediately fell into unconsciousness. She was in what seemed to be the Forbidden Forest. As she walked, she heard a rustle behind her, and a Thestral emerged to accompany her. On its back rode a young boy whom she recognized at once. "Death?" she asked. He scowled. "I do have a name you know," he said, petulant. "Really?" "No, but you could give me one. It's getting very tiresome just being called Death all the time. So morbid. Can I be Theo?" He asked. Hermione wasn't quite sure if he was being serious. "What are you doing in my Animagus dream?" she asked. "Dunno. Got bored. Oh look, there it is!" A large form seemed to be hurtling towards Hermione from the sky. She ducked as it wheeled past her head and came to settle on her shoulder, snapping its beak. Death looked at it for a moment. "Very fitting." The eagle owl hooted softly. "You should be waking up soon, see ya around, Mistress."

Hermione jerked back into consciousness. She groaned, and rubbed her head. She had a pounding headache. Stupid potion. She gathered up her cauldron—he very expensive cauldron that she'd managed to purchase after a tip from Hermione's grandfather had led to a good investment. She was very glad she'd figured out how to make money. For a while, she'd seriously considered stealing the books and materials she needed to learn magic. Focus, Hermione snapped at herself. She slid the cauldron under her bed. She now only shared her room with one other girl, named Mabel Schaffler. Mabel, like the other children, did not want to speak with her or spend time with her, which suited Hermione just fine. She did not need anyone else. Hermione massaged her temples, and began her chemistry homework. At least she'd finally gotten placed in an appropriately challenging class. She now attended high school, and was still at the top of her class.

Ten Years Old

Hermione sighed. She'd hoped to be in college by now, but unfortunately, it seemed as though she'd miscalculated the amount of time necessary. As she filed out of the hall, graduation cap in hand, she felt her heart quicken with anticipation at entering Hogwarts. One more year, she thought to herself. So close. She should begin reading up on wizarding etiquette. And perhaps she should begin replacing the worn clothes in her closet with more tasteful outfits. She wanted to make a good impression. I wonder if Dumbledore will come to give me my letter? She wondered idly.

Eleven Years Old

"Good morning Ms. Hastings. My name is Albus Dumbledore. I would like to speak to you about one of the children I believe you have in your care. A Ms. Hermione Granger?" Hermione had been sitting with her back to the railings of the staircase when she heard the familiar voice. She immediately froze and strained her ears to here more. "Hermione? Yes of course, come in." Ms Hastings opened the door to the orphanage and invited Dumbledore in. "My office is right this way, Mr. Dumbledore," she said. "Excellent." Hermione returned to her room. She no longer shared it with other children. She surveyed it with a gimlet eye, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Over the past year, she'd gotten rid of almost all her magical possessions in anticipation of this meeting. The only things in the battered closet were her newly purchased clothing items and her muggle school supplies. She rubbed her wrist absently. The brand of the Deathly Hallows had faded into a silvery scar. She hoped Dumbledore wouldn't notice, but if he asked, she would tell him the truth as the rest of the orphanage knew it—that she'd had it for as long as she could remember. She changed out of the orphanage uniform and into a plain white blouse, red plaid skirt and black knee socks.

"I must warn you, Hermione is not quite…. Normal. I don't know how to explain it. Ever since she was a child, there's been something off about her. She was a very odd baby. Never cried. And one day she just got up and began walking and talking. I didn't know what to make of it. The other children avoid her, mainly. She's extremely intelligent—first year in the local college already—but there's just something not right about her, Mr. Dumblrdore. I hope you know what you're doing sir. That's her room, right there." The hushed voice came closer. Hermione knew that Ms Hastings had not meant for her to hear, but she could not have known that Hermione's eagle owl form had led to her developing exceptional hearing. Hermione made sure she looked neat and presentable, tying off her braids again, and seated herself on the bed, cross legged, and waited to meet Albus Dumbledore for the first time in this world.

The door swung open and Ms Hastings peered in, dislike clear in her eyes. "Hermione, there's a man here to see you. Something about a scholarship to a school. Mr Dumbledore-" she gestured for him to enter, and turned on her heel. Hermione waited for Dumbledore to come it, and her jaw dropped. Dumbledore was a red head! She could barely contain the giggle that threatened to escape her lips. She must be very careful not to reveal herself as having more knowledge than she should.

Dumbledore walked towards her bed, hand outstretched. "Good morning Ms. Granger. My name is Professor Dumbledore, and I'm here to invite you to join my school." Hermione rose gracefully and shook his hand firmly. "It's a pleasure. May I ask which school you represent? I am unaware of applying for any scholarships." She said, politely. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "No, I suppose you would be. You see, Ms Granger, I teach at a very special school, for very special people."

Hermione inclined her head. "What kind of special school?" She asked. I really have become quite a superb actor, she thought to herself dryly. She could imagine Harry laughing. "I teach at a school of magic." Dumbledore said. Hermione nodded. "Alright, show me." Dumbledore smiled down at her. "What would you like to see?" Hermione smirked. I wonder if he could turn Ms. Hastings into a mouse, she mused. "I don't believe that Ms. Hastings would appreciate that very much," Dumbledore said sternly, frowning down at her.

Hermione realized she had spoken out loud, and mentally swore. Dumbledore gazed down at her, then waved his wand. Hermione's closet caught fire. She started. "My things are in there," she said, shocked. But she needn't have worried. With another flick of his wand, the fire died down. She calmly turned back to Dumbledore. "I would like to accept my place at your school, sir," she said respectfully.

"Excellent," Dumbledore said. His eyes were not twinkling as much as they usually did. "There are a number of things you will need. There will be no need to worry about the money, Hogwarts has a fund for students without resources, and other that maybe purchasing a few of your books secondhand, you should be fine. He handed Hermione her school list and a bag of galleons. "That won't be necessary, sir. I have my own money," she declined politely. "indeed?" Dumbledore asked, curiously. Hermione nodded. "I was not aware that Ms Hastings provided allowance," he asked probingly. "It's my money sir," Hermione said.

Dumbledore seemed to accept this as he continued. "The place to buy your magical supplies is called Diagon Alley, here in London. I can accompany you there today, if you find that agreeable." Hermione beamed up at him. "I would like that very much, sir." "Excellent!" said Dumbledore. "Ms Granger, I must ask, you are very unsurprised by all this. Why?" Hermione shrugged. "I've always known I was different. I can do things the other children can't. Finding out it's magic makes sense to me." Dumbledore peered at her searchingly, before nodding. "Very well Ms. Granger. I shall speak to Ms. Hastings about a quick shopping trip. I have one more student to visit today. Would you like to accompany me, or wait for me here?" Hermione's curiosity was piqued. "I'd like to go with you, sir," She said. "In that case, I shall speak to Ms. Hastings immediately." He left the room, Hermione trailing after him.

"Professor Dumbledore? Where are we going?" Hermione asked, as they left Winding's Orphanage behind. "Wool's Orphanage, on the other side of London," Dumbledore replied genially. "There is another potential student that lives there. It will be an excellent opportunity for you two to connect before school starts on the first of September." Hermione nodded, wondering who the other student would be as she clambered into a buggy.

Hermione had not expected Wool's Orphanage to look very different from her own, and she was not disappointed. It was a gray building, very non-descript, and quite ugly. She followed Dumbledore up the steps, and knocked once. After a moment or two, the door was opened by a scruffy girl wearing an apron. "Good afternoon, I have an appointment with Mrs. Cole. I believe she's the matron here?" Dumbledore asked. "Oh, um… jus' a mo', MRS. COLE," she called. She turned back to Dumbledore. "Come in, she's on her way." Dumbledore looked down at Hermione. "I shall find you shortly, Ms. Granger," and Hermione recognized herself being temporarily dismissed, as a skinny woman came bustling towards them.

Hermione decided to explore the orphanage. She wandered aimlessly, following the helpers and children. "Who are you then?" a girl asked suspiciously. "I'm here with a teacher. Apparently someone here's won a scholarship. You wouldn't happen to know anyone like that would you? They might make strange things happen sometimes or—" At this, the girl's face twisted in fear. "Oh, you're like him. You'll be looking for Tom, I suppose? First door on the second floor." And the girl abruptly turned and hurried away from her.

Hermione blinked, staring after her. She hadn't offended the girl had she? Shrugging, she climbed the stone steps, turned off the second landing, and faced the door. She raised her hand and knocked. "Hello?" she called. The door opened, and Hermione's breath caught in her chest. Tom Marvolo Riddle stood, scowling down at her, a book in his hand. He was very tall for an eleven year old. "What do you want?" he said. "To meet you of course, there's no need to be rude," Hermione said, recovering from her shock. Lord Voldemort. This will become Lord Voldemort. She thought to herself, disbelievingly. She hadn't expected to meet him so soon. He hasn't done anything yet, Hermione. Be nice.

"May I come in?" she asked. "No." He said. "What do you want? Who are you anyway?" Hermione's fingers twitched to her scarred wrist. "I'm Hermione Granger. You're about to get invited to go to my school. Professor Dumbledore's just speaking with Mrs. Cole now." Tom's frown deepened. "What sort of school?" He snapped. "Tell me!" he commanded, forcefully. Now it was Hermione's turn to frown. "You're not very polite, are you? He'll be up in a minute, don't worry, and we can get supplies together. What's your name by the way?"

Tom ignored her. He was gazing at her in surprise, obviously unused to resistance to his magically enhanced commands. "Honestly," Hermione huffed. "That might work on Muggles, but it certainly won't work on me. Or Professor Dumbledore." "What are Muggles?" Tom asked, brown eyes narrowing. "Ordinary people, of course. Not like us. Non magic people." Tom looked at her appraisingly and indicated that she should come inside. The room was very plain, similar to her own. There was a single bed, a cupboard, and a desk with a chair. "Tell me," he said. This time it was not a command. Hermione smiled. Voldemort! She had to stop Tom Riddle from turning into Lord Voldemort. In the years of her childhood, she had thought about how to do so very often. She had come to the realization that murder was not the best option. Not only because she didn't think she could kill a child, but also because she didn't feel like spending her life in Azkaban thank you very much. As a result, she'd decided to befriend Riddle, and try to steer him away from darkness. It didn't look like he would make it easy on her. "Haven't you always known you were different? Special?" She asked him, as she settled on the bed.

"Yes," he breathed. "Always. I can do things other children can't. I can make animals do what I want without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt, if I want to." "Do you want to?" Hermione asked. "Sometimes." Tom shrugged. "So can I," Hermione said. "Prove it," Tom said, standing over her. Hermione twitched her fingers. She didn't even need to channel her magic through the Hallow scar. She'd gotten quite proficient in wandless magic over the last ten years. Birds appeared from midair, and she made them chase each other around the room. Tom stared at them, eyes glinting oddly. "Teach me how you did that," He demanded. "Only if you ask nicely," Hermione shot back. Tom glowered at her, then his face changed into a sickly sweet expression. "Would you please teach me how you did that, Hermione?" he said, so politely, Hermione was amazed. "Stop that," she snapped. "Put your real face back on." Tom dropped the act, amused. "It's easy, just… want it hard enough I guess," Hermione lied.

"For example," she levitated the chair. Tom stared hungrily at her. "And you learned this at a school?" He asked, eagerly. "No, but I'm going to learn magic at a school. So are you. That's Professor Dumbledore now, I think," she cocked her head. "He'll explain everything much better. And then you should come to Diagon Alley with me and I'll show you where you can get spell books and things." Tom stared at her. "You'll come with me? I don't need you. I go around London all the time by myself. I like to do things alone." Hermione shrugged. "I didn't say you needed me. But you should. We can get to know each other better, since we'll be in the same year anyway, and you can show me your magic."

At that moment, Mrs. Cole announced Dumbledore, who strode in. "Ah, Ms. Granger. I see you have found Mr. Riddle. Mr Riddle, allow me to introduce myself, I am Professor Dumbledore. I'm hear to tell you about Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Has Ms. Granger told you anything about magic?" He eyed the conjured birds. Tom nodded, shaking Dumbledore's hand. "I'm going of course." He announced. Dumbledore nodded, and briefly explained the wizarding world, just as he had done to Hermione. Tom at one point demanded a demonstration. Hermione groaned inwardly, as she saw Dumbledore's eyes narrow momentarily, and he set Riddle's cabinet on fire. Riddle howled in rage, but like Hermione's it was undamaged. However, a rattling sound now came from the cabinet. "Is there anything in there that you shouldn't have, Mr. Riddle?" Dumbledore asked, sternly looking down his nose at Tom. Tom opened the cabinet and took out a small box of assorted items. "I'd advise you to return these items to their proper owners. Thieving is not tolerated at Hogwarts, Tom." Dumbledore reprimanded. Tom nodded, his faux polite mask firmly in place. Hermione watched with bated breath as Dumbledore announced the trip to Diagon Alley. "I can show you where to get everything," he said. Tom glanced at Hermione, before nodding tersely. "Excellent!" cried Dumbledore. "We shall leave at once. Ms. Granger, am I correct in assuming your funds are non-magical?" She nodded. "Then first, we shall stop at Gringotts bank. If you two would kindly follow me, we shall be there quite soon."

Once again, Hermione followed Dumbledore into a horse drawn buggy. This time, Tom sat beside her. "I can speak to snakes," he said suddenly, as the buggy started moving. "Is that normal?" Dumbledore considered Tom Riddle carefully. "It is not unheard of," he hedged. Tom nodded. "I've always wanted a pet snake," Hermione sighed. "Can I get one, sir?" Dumbledore smiled genially at her. "Unfotunately, Hogwarts usually only permits toads, cats or owls as pets. I believe there was once a student who brought a dog, but it upset a lot of cat owners, and she had to leave it at home." Hermione pouted. Ron had had a rat… she thought to herself. Her relationship with Ron had returned to normal after a while, though Ron now teased her mercilessly for becoming a child.

"I believe we have arrived," Dumbledore announced some ten minutes later. He paid the buggy driver, and Tom and Hermione stepped out in front of the Leaky Cauldron. "In here," Dumbledore ushered, and the two orphans followed obediently. Tom's eyes were wide as he stared around the pub. "Wait till Diagon Alley," Hermione whispered into his ear. "It's absolutely stunning." Tom glanced coldly at her. "We aren't friends," he said abruptly. "I don't need friends." Hermione rolled her eyes. "That doesn't mean they aren't good to have, Tom." She snapped. Tom glared at her. "I don't want friends." He ground out, as they followed Dumbledore out into the back of the tavern. "Too bad," Hermione hissed back. She felt Tom's magic shift and something shoved her, hard, towards the floor. Flinging out her own hands, she stopped herself from falling flat on her face with a cushioning charm. Dumbledore, hearing the commotion, turned around. "Something wrong?" He asked mildly, eyes sharp. "Nothing professor," Hermione growled, glaring at Tom as she righted herself. "I tripped." Tom sneered at her, and she sneered back. When Dumbledore's back was turned, she wiggled her fingers and hit Tom with a mild stinging hex, sticking her tongue out for good measure. His scowl darkened and he turned away, getting his first look at Diagon Alley. "Sir, I think I'll be fine now," Tom said, in his overly polite tone. "I like doing things by myself. I don't need you," Dumbledore looked slightly startled as Tom headed into Diagon Alley along. "I'll go with him, Professor. He's being very rude," Hermione grumbled. "I know my way back to Windings, don't worry. Thank you very much for the letter, sir." And shaking Dumbledore's hand, she followed Tom Riddle into Diagon Alley.

"Why are you following me?" Tom demanded coldly, after he had looked back and seen Hermione tailing him. "Because I want to," she said stubbornly. "Go away." He demanded. "You're very rude, you know." "Good. Maybe it'll make you leave me alone." He snapped, continuing to stride down Diagon Alley, his sharp brown eyes taking in every detail greedily. "You just passed Flourish and Blott's by the way," Hermione said. "That's where the spell books are." Tom didn't answer. "Oh don't try to ignore me, that's so dull." Hermione complained. "You don't even know where you're going." Tom glared at her, but said nothing. "Come on, Riddle. Play nice. Where do you go to school, anyway? What's your favorite class? Mine's chemistry. I think it's a lot like potions isn't it? You realize I'm just going to keep talking until you stop ignoring me right?" Hermione pestered. "Oooh! Look! Owls!" she seized Tom's wrist and attempted to drag him into the Emporium, but he wrenched his hand out of hers with surprising strength. "Don't touch me," he spat. Hermione had enough. "Look, I'm the one who told you about all this in the first place. I don't know why you decided to come along if you were planning on being this rude and awful the whole time. Stop acting like a spoilt child!" She snarled.

Tom glared at her, eyes full of fury. "I don't know why I came with you either," He hissed back. "I wish I hadn't. I thought you'd be more useful. But as I already told you, I prefer being alone. I don't need you around. I don't want you around. So leave me be." He turned on his heel and stalked off. Hermione watched him go, frustration evident in her eyes. Ignoring him, she turned around and entered the emporium. It was cool and dry inside, and smelt like a normal muggle pet store.

She breathed deeply, inhaling the comforting scent. She'd always liked the smell of animals. "Hello human," came a strange, throaty voice from above her. Startled, she looked up to see a screech owl perched in a cage. "Stupid human," the voice said again, as the owl opened its beak. Impossible. She thought. Was she speaking to the owl? Perhaps this was a side effect of the Animagus transformation. After all, Sirius and Crookshanks had managed to communicate somewhat effectively, and they hadn't even been the same time of animal. "I resent that." She said. "Maybe not so stupid after all," the owl said, staring down at her. Hermione sniffed, and looked around. She saw a witch sitting behind a counter, reading the Daily Prophet, and headed over. "Er…. Excuse me Madam, but I was wondering if you had any cats for sale? Or kneazles?" The witch squinted up at her. "In the back. Just had a litter of kittens, kneazle mother, cat father. Those will cost extra." Hermione nodded, and headed towards the cat section.

She left the shop several galleons lighter. She was glad that Dumbledore had left, as the money she kept in her wallet was actually mostly wizarding currency, and that might have required some explaining that she didn't want to do. In her left hand, she carried a cat carrier with a small, dark grey kitten in it. She also carried a bag of supplies in the right hand. The next stop for her was Flourish and Blotts, where she purchased all her school books, and then some. After that, she headed to Madam Malkins and got fitted for a full set of robes. Hermione found her arms getting quite tired now, and when she was sure no one was looking, she waved her hand over her things and shrank them.

Stuffing her bags into her pocket, she now only had to carry her new cat, who was sleeping soundly. She then bought the rest of the things on her list, as well as a few extra odds and ends that she thought she might need, before heading over to Ollivander's. As soon as she stepped inside, she heard a high pitched noise that seemed to emanate from somewhere in the shop. Ollivander appeared almost immediately, a box in his hand. "Well, well," he said, eyeing her curiously, "you are a very easy customer. Vine, dragon heartstring, 10¾ inches. A very strong reaction. This wand knows it wants to belong to you."* Hermione gently picked the wand up, unsurprised. She had expected as much. Something similar had happened the first time she'd visited Ollivander in her own world. "That will be seven Galleons, Ms…?" Ollivander trailed off. "Granger. Hermione Granger." Hermione introduced herself, producing seven galleons. "Thank you very much, ." Turning, she saw Tom walk into the shop. "I'll see you around, Riddle," she said mildly. He inclined his head, his previous anger at her replaced by cool indifference.

Hermione left Ollivander's and ambled down the street. It was still early. They had left Wool's Orphanage at noon, and it was only three or four in the afternoon. She glanced down and all her things and, slipped into a back alleyway. She rubbed the scar on her wrist as she called upon the power of the invisibility cloak, and apparated back to Windings.

She landed in her room with a soft pop and unpacked her belongings. She had invested in a nonstandard trunk, without any pre-existing enchantments, and set about adjusting it to her needs. The year she had spent hunting Horcruxes with Harry had taught her never to carry things too large to hide, so she began by shrinking the trunk until it was only slightly larger than her own palm. She then began layering protective charms and jinxes over the trunk, warding it against being stolen by other students. She then added an undetectable extension charm, and began packing her books, clothes and other items into the trunk. She did not have much to pack. She needed to play the role of first-year muggleborn orphan, after all.

*Pottermore: Vine wands seem strongly attracted by personalities with hidden depths, and Garrick Ollivander himself has found them more sensitive than any other when it comes to instantly detecting a prospective match. Reliable sources claim that these wands can emit magical effects upon the mere entrance into their room of a suitable owner, and this has been noted to have occurred twice within Ollivanders Wand Shop.