Hermione's parents had forced her to try a new approach. And, she had to admit, it was working; even if by the wrong reasons. That Saturday, Emma and Daniel had cancelled all their appointments at their dentistry and had taken their daughter to the poshest shopping mall at Crawley. There, they bought everything she needed to replace her damaged school materials, and more.
As Emma loved to say, the hardest one tries to flaunt one's riches, the poorer one are. The Grangers had been respectable well off since Hermione's grandparent's generation, from both sides. Daniel and Emma had only grown the family's fortune, while having the proper education to back their position. They thought it was due time for Hermione to receive such teachings.
She had got a replace for her ruined bookbag, but instead of an off the shelf one, they bought (over Hermione's protests) a limited edition Victor Hugo bag for her, all made in reddish leather and with her name fashionably engraved on the golden clasp. They also got her high branded clothing, like skirts, shirts and Mary Janes. The shirt was customised with the school emblem, and the skirt matched her uniform colour, sneakily replacing the pieces with quality ones without overly changing anything. Even her socks were made of silk now.
Come Monday, there was a subtle difference in Hermione Granger, most of her classmates found out. Maybe not so subtle, as for the first time ever, a BMW parked in front of the school and dropped out a bushy haired girl. When she arrived at her class, word of mouth had already crossed around the entire place, and the kids had trained judging eyes on her.
The finer clothes, giving her a slight difference from the other's uniforms, the simply drool worthy handbag with her shiny new books and name-engraved writing tools, and the tiny real diamonds studded in her ears they could glimpse when her mane of hair moved around, hints to a wealth few of them ever had seem.
They dropped the bullying like hot potato. Hermione had to admit flaunting really worked, but they couldn't just roll over and die, they were still attracted to her, but for a new motive. They wanted to be her friends.
Hermione concluded they weren't being hypocrites. They simple had some kind of short circuit in their brains, that was the only explanation. And probably though she suffered from the same ailment. As if she could simply be chumming with people who had scorned and hated her just a few days prior. It was even sadder than before, for they had hated her for what she was, now they loved her for something her parents were.
Nonetheless, it made life at school a little better. Even when her newfound fans would save her a spot at their table at lunch, even when girls would try to follow her to the loo, even when Amanda Worthby would greet her with air kisses every goddamn morning, Hermione felt life had gotten better.
Everything changed on Friday.
She couldn't take the bus anymore, not with diamond earrings and with a top-brand handbag. So, the Grangers had decided Hermione would wait for them at the school library until the Dentistry's close time. Then, her mother or her father would give her a lift home, and that day was no different. Daniel kissed her forehead and used his right hand to mess up her hair. She laughed, while rolling her eyes at him. Even if it was endearing, Daniel Granger could be such a father sometimes.
"So, my little pumpkin", she really cringed at the horrible nickname. She was almost twelve, for God's sake! "How was your day?".
"Normal", she answered laconically, deciding to punish him a little for forbidden endearment. Really, she was six, it was Halloween, who could blame her if she ate so much homemade pumpkin pastries she had tummy ache for three days and could never eat it again without becoming violently ill?
"Normal bad or normal good?", tried him, taking a surreptitious look at her. Probably checking her for bullying signs, the girl concluded. She gave him a somewhat bright smile, instantly forgiving him for his slight.
"Normal better", she answered. "They leave me alone at class now, but still want to become my… friends".
"They will give up soon", prophesied him, not taking his eyes from the road. "Happened to your mother and me, you know. When we got into med school, our classmates started sucking up to us. I thank the God your mates aren't old enough for romance yet. Your mother had to beat greedy suitors with a stick", they laughed at it, Hermione imagining her petite, affectionate mother physically attacking men in suits carrying roses bouquets. "It still happens at some parties we go, you know. The sucking-up thing, I mean. There are social climbers everywhere, these days".
Hermione believed him. Not only about the social climbers, but the fact nobody tried to court her mother anymore. At 6'4", Daniel Granger could tower over almost everybody, and he had never stopped his training regimen after leaving the Army. With his bulging arms muscles and big hands, it was fascinating to watch him handle the delicate tools during a dental surgery. He would usually joke that his first time patients would be so nervous to be around him they wouldn't even notice when he'd plunge a needle on their gums.
They stopped at their favourite pizza place, and talked over some juice while they waited. Hermione carried the boxes on her lap during the trip back home, feeling the warmth seep into her legs, chasing off the evening cold. The next Friday would be her last day of school. She hoped the somewhat cold and rainy spring would finally give place to a warm and clear summer. Her parents were talking about a trip to France again that year. With a tinge to her cheeks, she though it would be nice to go to the beach, now that her breasts where starting to develop.
She fiddled with the piece of tape closing the pizza box, while thinking at her father's words. Her classmates still had their brains filled to the brim with football and games, with no interest yet for romance. At least the male ones. But she couldn't help thinking about how would be to have a boyfriend. She knew from her books that she was at the start of puberty, and her interest in love and… Other things… Would increase for the next year. She had already started thinking about kissing and how would it feel.
Just, she couldn't even imagine kissing one of her classmates. Maybe in the future they would grow up and become good people, but she would always remember them as nasty bullies that destroyed her things and belittled her. Closing her eyes and tracing the box contours with her fingers, Hermione thought she needed to change schools, after all. Maybe in another place, now that she had found out a little gold and brand items could hold bulling at bay, she could make some real friends. Find a nice boy that loved books almost as much as she did, and… Well, she had heard about snogging, and had saw some older students doing it. It looked somewhat gross, but she could try it, at least for research purposes.
Her father parked the car in the garage, and opened her door. He shook her arm lightly, and the girl opened her eyes with a start.
"What are you daydreaming about?", asked him. She felt her face heat up to the point of boiling, but kept her mouth shut. Daniel wiggled his eyebrows at her, and she couldn't help but giggle.
"I'm thinking I need a new bikini for the summer", she answered, and then gave him a mischievous smile. "I heard some girls at school talking about something called 'string bikinis', do you know what they are, daddy?".
He squirmed a little, taking the boxes from her. Without looking at his daughter, who was having trouble containing her laughter, finally answered.
"Yes, I know, and I'm forbidding you having one until you're thirty, ok?".
Hermione rolled her eyes at his father's back, entering the house. Her mother was in the kitchen, humming softly while squeezing oranges for juice. She was going upstairs to change her uniform for pyjamas when the doorbell rang. She kept still, a foot hovering above the next step. It was unusual for them to have guests at that hour in weekdays. Maybe it was someone from school, to talk about her money flaunting? She knew some teachers had quietly disapproved her daily entrance, dropping from BMW's every day and stepping under the spotlight every time she walked out class.
"Mr. Granger?", the voice was unknown. She perked up her eyes, trying to spy the door, bending over the handrail. Her mother would kill her if she saw her daughter doing it. But she could only see his father's back. "My name is Minerva McGonagall and I'm here to talk about a scholarship for your daughter at my school".
Hermione almost toppled over, something not advisable when one is almost straddling the stairs handrail. She quickly got down and rushed downstairs, her mind running a mile a minute. She had given up all hope about that Hogwarts business, when no contact had arrived that week. She had been afraid her small stunt at hacking the school network would come to bite her in the ass, but as Friday came and almost had gone, the girl had pushed it to the back of her mind. But someone had come, and a tiny part of her was glad it wasn't that Professor Snape. Not all gold in the world would convince her parents to send her somewhere near a man like that.
"Hermione?", her mother's voice called her. "I know you are there, come here please. There is someone who wants to meet you".
They were in the sitting room, around the coffee table. The woman was very different from her fellow employee, even if she had the same rigid posture. Maybe it was a Hogwarts thing. She had greying auburn hair, tied in a tight bun, a thin face, and sharp, dark brown eyes behind small wire framed glasses. Mrs. McGonagall was wearing a silky looking bottle green dress, and pointed low-heeled shoes. Hermione thought she was old enough to be her grandmother, but her lean frame and catlike graceful movements, and that sharp glaze that focused on her as soon as the girl entered the room, made her think that woman was far from being just an old lady.
"Good evening, Miss Granger", greeted her, with a thin smile, while shaking her hand with a firm, somewhat delicate, grip. "My name is Minerva McGonagall, and I'm deputy headmistress at Hogwarts School for the Gifted".
"It's a pleasure, ma'am", answered Hermione, her well ingrained good manners kicking in even when she felt bewildered by the situation. Why the very own deputy headmistress would come to her house at Friday evening? She had said it was about a scholarship, but maybe they had found out about the hacking? Was she in trouble?
"Well, please sit down, Professor", invited Emma, gesturing to the big sofa. "Can I offer you something to drink?".
"Some tea would be marvellous, if it's not much trouble", answered the woman, while sitting primly at the edge of the sofa, her hands in her lap. She had a leather handbag with her, that she placed on the ground. "I've had a full day, talking to parents of prospective students. You are the last ones, and I apologise for the hour".
"No problem at all, is Earl Grey fine?", at the Professor nod, Emma departed to the kitchen. The sofa was U-shaped, around the coffee table, and Daniel took a seat across the woman. Hermione sat at the bottom of the U, while Dan scooped over a little, leaving a spot for his wife. Professor McGonagall praised their house, and made some small talk about the chilly spring, while they waited for Emma. After about ten minutes of chit chatting, Hermione's mom came back, carrying a tray with tea and biscuits, that she placed at the table.
When they finished stirring their teas, the Professor took a small sip, before placing her teacup on the saucer.
"As I've said, I'm deputy headmistress at a school for the gifted", started her, taking her handbag from the floor and placing it at her lap. "I don't know if your daughter told you about it, but last week we applied a small test at her school".
At the Grangers nod, she opened the handbag clasps, before taking a few folded sheets of paper.
"This is a copy of our test, we applied the same tests on over three hundred schools this year. It was designed by our teachers, with counselling from educators from Cambridge, Oxford, the Imperial College, St Andrews and Durham. Its level is so high, high-school graduates struggle to pass it".
The Grangers unfolded the papers and took note of some of the questions, shifting around the pages, the test was exactly like Hermione remembered it. The professor took another paper from her bag.
"Your daughter's got full marks on it".
Hermione blinked, while Emma's eyes jumped from the girl to the test. A sense of pride flooded the petite girl's body. She knew it was a difficult test, but something created by Professors at the best universities in the country? And she had aced it!
"You can understand our immediate interest in your girl. Hogwarts excels in special courses for the gifted, and it would be our pleasure to have Hermione enrolled in our First Year class, next term".
Professor McGonagall took some folders from her handbag, spreading them on the table. She took Emma's teacup and placed it a little bit to the left, then pushing Dan's with the back of her hand, to properly open one of them. Hermione raised from her seat, her eyebrows going up in excitement, the picture showed a castle!
Professor McGonagall gave a low chuckle at the girl almost bouncing in her place, flashing her another thin smile.
"Yes, Hogwarts is a restored Middle Ages castle, course we updated it with electric energy, heating and insulating, and even some lifts. They're staff only, I'm afraid, as we encourage students to exercise".
She pointed one of the interior photographs, depicting a classroom, with rows and rows of dark wooden desks. Another showed a huge greenhouse, filled with exotic flowers, while another showed a circular room with ten four-poster beds placed against the wall.
"Our installations are simply the best, with solid, custom made furniture, top of market appliances, high technology and a well thought blend of modern and traditional environments. We also love to boast about our unique greenhouses, extensive gardens, preserved natural forest and Olympic-sized indoor pool, even if students insist in swimming in our lake".
"As we are a board school, students are divided in four groups, each with its own wing, dormitory, common room for mingling and chaperon. The Head of each Wing is responsible for the student's wellbeing, providing counselling, dismissing fights, punishing bullying and preventing our famous parties from going pear shaped".
"Parties?", Emma had attended college in the seventies, and the thought of locked dorms full of teenagers nowadays was a real worry.
"It seems I've explained things in the wrong order", said Professor McGonagall, placing other folder over the Hogwarts map. "Hogwarts is attended only by gifted students. Not just academically gifted, like your daughter, but also by any student who excel in some area of interest. Not only we have the best minds of this generation, but also our future athletes, artists and politicians. Our school is a truly elite one, and we house the heirs of England's richest and well-connected. Each student who passes through our hallowed halls finds him or herself part of a network of the next generation leaders. We don't just teach students, but raise our society top, people who will make a difference in the future".
"While our academic course is strong and very demanding, we also have teams for some sports, and we encourage some beneficial competitively between our four groups. Not only there is inter-group games, with even a trophy at the end of the year, but we also have academic competitions, a debate club and a system of rewarding points for students who complete challenges and have good behaviour, inside and outside class. The group with most points at the end of the year receive benefits like extended curfew hours, longer library dues and exclusive use of some of the facilities, like the pool and computer rooms. As good willed competition is instilled on our students, we allow chaperoned parties at the end of each game, and we offer many social gatherings between all our students, to prevent this competition from becoming social exclusion. We encourage our pupils to make friends with people from every group, and most of our classes are shared between two or more groups".
Hermione felt some trepidation at the idea of been alone in a school full of children, but if all of that was true, she wouldn't be short in opportunities of making friends. Also, students would share dorms, and it was hard not to become at least cordial with someone who slept in the same room for most of the year. If that room depicted in the folder would be full, she would have at least nine roommates.
"Where?"
There was a pain in her mother's voice, as if she was bracing herself. Hermione thought she was just nervous about the fact she would be in a boarding school full of mean children. Maybe it was in London, her parents could catch the train at the parent meeting.
"Scotland", Professor McGonagall answered, making her parents close their eyes. Hermione never had been in Scotland. She was getting excited.
"A boarding school, in Scotland", her father murmured, almost stunned. Hermione frowned, was it really such a strange affair for a boarding school to be in Scotland? Weren't there boarding school around all United Kingdom?
"Our term starts in the first of September, and the Christmas break happens from the second Sunday of December to the Third of January. Classes are suspended again six days before Easter, and returned seven days after. The term ends in the first week of June. Students can receive letters through Fax, each weekday, and every Monday packages from home are delivered, we have an internal Post Office to deliver them in hands. There are Mail Boxes in all major cities in the United Kingdom to receive those packages, every weekday, and if parents want to send food or sweets, we recommend them to bring it personally at our nearest Mail Office, and we'll keep them refrigerated and fresh for delivery".
"No calls?", asked Emma, almost painfully. Hermione winced at her tone, she was start to suspect her parents where somewhat against the scholarship. Professor McGonagall inclined her body slightly, her eyes full of some thing the girl strangely thought to be empathy.
"Mrs. Granger, Mr. Granger, I can understand your preoccupation, but you must comprehend our school is really advanced, and I'm not saying it just for advertisement sake. Our workload is very demanding, and we need students to focus on it. Also, the amount of contact between students and parents is something we already tested by trial and error since our school opened in its modern configuration. We don't want students to become homesick, or dependent on their parents. Family is important for us, and we never will try to replace it in the lives of our students, but our school focus on creating leaders, a task that is challenging enough when our pupils aren't under their mother's skirt", she gave them another thin smile. "But to answer your question, twice a week, after dinner, 15 minutes, tops".
"Doesn't this isolation curb their social development?", asked Hermione's father, dejected.
"None at all. They have daily relations with their peers and teachers, students and staff dinner together and we offer many activities outside classroom so they can mingle and interact. Also, each group Head offers counselling, and after Fourth Year, each student has to participate in individual projects, offering a more informal setting between professor and student. Also, as I've said before, students have a Common Room to mingle, that means our First Years, aged 11 and 12, divide space with all older students, up to our Seventh Years, aged 17 and 18".
"You said your school can prevent bullying?", asked Hermione, speaking for the first time. The idea of diving space with older kids was difficult for her, as her previous experiences were that the older the child is, the meanest they get.
"We absolutely abhor bullying. Our school have a 'nip in the bud' philosophy. When you do something wrong, you are punished. The heavier the slight, the heavier the punishment. By your looks, I need to clarify: we don't believe in physical violence as punishment. I assure you our dungeons are purely for decoration. No, we believe it's better to punish a wrongdoer by making him or her do something productive. As such, we don't believe in writing lines as serves no purpose. Students usually serve detention cleaning the halls or the bathrooms, washing, hanging and ironing clothes, polishing cutlery, mowing, cooking, or, when they are older, correcting homework and essays from younger years. Every punishment is done under supervision from a Staff member, and if the student skivvies off a detention, he is punished longer. We also don't try to slave kids, nor our school runs on wrongdoer's labour. Detentions are measured in time, not in workload, so we balance it for the appropriate age. We also have a list of permitted detentions, all of them can be done by either genre. We discovered that assigning lighter detentions to females does more bad than good".
The Professor gave a little sip at her cup, prompting the Grangers to do the same. Hermione's tea was cold, but she rolled the liquid in her tongue, thinking fast. Maybe if all her bullies had been punished when they started picking on her, they would repent and cease to confront people. Maybe this school was the right thing for her. The woman placed her cup again at the saucer, and changed folders.
"Hogwarts is old. Before our modern approach to teaching, it was a Monastery, about a thousand years ago, in the Middle Ages. Princes and noble heirs would gather there to learn writing, law, medicine, theology and engineering. With time, we started to accept plebeians, and shifted our focus from noble students to gifted students. We quickly found out it was better to teach bright, even if poor, people than the rich, but dim. Nowadays the Queen's government invest quite a hefty sum in Hogwarts, permitting us to offer scholarships to students who couldn't otherwise afford our school. Ninety-nine percent of our students finish their Seventh Year already accepted by one of the top-twenty universities in the UK. The small percentage left is comprised of students who doesn't want to pursue higher education and instead are employed on their family's business. Most of our former students are directly or indirectly employed but the government. A small amount works for the private sector, mainly in consulting, after working for the Queen. The government never does something without gain, so the donations that keep our scholarships going are reverted in excellent professionals who will assume positions of leadership and excellence in our country".
"It may sounds like the government thinks of Hogwarts' students as simple investments, and it's probably true. But we, Hogwarts staff, think of our mission as molding our country's future, through the next generation. We think your daughter can make a difference in the future, that she can change our world into something better. This test in your hands prove without doubt your girl is different from other children. You can pretend it's not true and confine her here where she'll never be understood, when her skills will never be properly polished. Or you can send her to my school, where she could find people like her, people who never really fitted in with their peers before. She can be your little girl here, or become a woman to make you proud, in Scotland".
Hermione believed it. She could sense it in the rush of her blood, in the creaks of her bones. She could feel it in her heart, and in her incredible brain. She needed to go to Scotland, to Hogwarts, to her kindred souls and future friends. She prepared herself, for the second time that month, to grovel and beg and please. But her dad's had a strange look upon his face.
"I… I think I hear the phone calling", said him, a little too fast for it to be normal. Also, complete silence remained in the house, and Hermione knew there was a phone in that very same room. He stood up suddenly, almost knocking over the coffee table. He coughed, a slight blush raising on his cheeks. "I… will answer it".
He almost ran out the room, walking a little funny. Hermione was slightly ashamed about it, even the little girl could understand that was quite rude of him. What could be possibly the emergency…? Emma stood up too, one of her hands pressing her stomach.
"I'll bring some more tea, this one is cold", she tripped upon walking out, and had barely passed through the doorway before breaking into a run. A run! Hermione shifted her eyes to Professor McGonagall, almost expecting some comment about her parents strangeness. But the old woman was sipping her teacup once again, almost absentmindedly, her eyes dancing in some weird amuse. Hermione felt her mind click in place.
"You've done something to them", she accused, her voice low, full of some kind of dread. A cold, invisible hand gripped her stomach, and her eyes hopped around the room, while the woman stood still, silently judging her. Hermione's gaze fell on the cold tea, still in their cups. "You put something in their tea. When…", her mind supplied some information she hadn't completely assimilated before. "When you place the folders on the table, you moved their cups, pouring something in them!".
She stood up, suddenly afraid of the results from her outburst. The strange Professor, if she really was a Professor at all, had poisoned her parents with such a straight face, what she could do to her, the only witness?
"Sit down, Miss Granger", there was a edge of steel in that order, for it was no request. Hermione's knees bended before her brain even registered the words. She sat down, folding her hands in her lap, could sweat running down her back. Professor McGonagall placed her teacup on the table for the last time.
"I haven't poisoned your parents, if this is what you're worrying about", answered her, crossing her long legs under her bottle-green dress. "It was just a unharmful dosage of a potent laxative. It'll give us about half an hour for a more… Private conversation".
"I can yell", told Hermione, in a steady, cold voice that surprised even her. Her hand sled over the table, slowly, searching. "They'll come, my father was in the Army, you know?"
"I know. In fact, before coming here, I've learnt everything there is to know about your family. I know how your parents met, where they work, how much they earn, where you were born, even the content of your knickers drawer".
The cold grip in her stomach was suffocating her, the lungs constricting painfully. She had something in her hand, and she was holding it so tightly the thing was biting in her hand.
"I've lied to you", admitted the Professor, and Hermione's heart sank. "At least, I haven't be entirely forthcoming. I've come today to offer you a scholarship in my school, Hermione, but Hogwarts isn't a place for intelligent people only".
Professor McGonagall removed a black folder from her leather bag, sliding it to her. There was no title, and no photographs. Hermione didn't dare move to take it. She just faced the woman who had just admitted poisoning her parents just to corner her alone.
"Hogwarts is a school for hit-men".
Hermione blinked. That was unexpected, to make a gross understatement. There was a pain in her right hand, but she hadn't moved her eyes from McGonagall. The woman looked undisturbed by her own words.
"Young talents people come from all U.K. to learn the arts at Hogwarts. Self-defence, shooting, surviving skills, cryptography, counter-intelligence, infiltration, poisoning… Assassination. Every student leaves Hogwarts as an intelligence agent, fully trained to take any mission, their talents sharpened to be a weapon".
"And why does it concern me?", asked Hermione, her voice broken and constricted. "I… I've never killed somebody. I've never even been in a fight! Until last week I was my classmates' punching bag! WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME?".
She was standing, a strange rage filling her to the brim, on the verge of spilling and drowning her. There was pain in her, not only on her gripping hand, but in her heart too. She was unbelievable weak, she had always been. That dangerous place wasn't for people like her, and it felt as that woman was rubbing it at her face. Her own weakness, her own inability to stand for herself against mean people. Assassination? Self-defence? It could only be a joke.
"It's in your blood, Miss Granger. If not, why would you be threatening me with a blade?".
Hermione opened her hand, and the blunt butter knife slipped out, falling on the floor with a loud thud. She couldn't explain for the life of her how she had obtained the knife from the tray. She also noticed she was standing, and immediately sat down, feeling disconnected with her own body. Professor McGonagall flashed her that damning tight-lipped smile.
"You would be a valuable asset to our group. You feel weak now, but I've seen a strength in you, and Hogwarts can mold it in a blade sharper than the one you just let go. Everything I've said to your parents is true: Hogwarts condemn bullying, and encourage unharmful competition. Our goal really is to raise the next generation leaders, not only future agents or soldiers, but true leaders. People who do want need to be done, in this day and age".
Hermione fidgeted under McGonagall unwavering gaze, and thought about all the things she had learnt that day. About underworlds and agents. The Grangers had all the works by Ian Fleming somewhere in the study-slash-library upstairs. To plunge into a novel-like world made her head spin. Spies, thought her, a little dazed. It sounded so far-fetched!
"You guys… Kill people?", she blurted the question thoughtlessly, but didn't regret it. "I will kill people?".
"Do you want to kill people?"
"Of course not!", shrieked her, feeling affronted with the question.
"So you probably won't kill people. Nonetheless, you'll learn how to do it, if the situation demands it. Ultimately, everything resides in your choices. Hogwarts will not train you to be an assassin, but an intelligence agent, a person who can deal with any situation. Some of our pupils use violence to solve their problems, others use wit, others try to avoid conflict entirely. You'll decide, if the need arises, what to do about it".
The Professor gave her another thin smile.
"But, gathering from your question, can I assume you want to be enrolled?"
Hermione closed her eyes, feeling tired. The choice weighted over her. The girl knew if she really wanted to go, she would convince her parents to sign the forms. But that would mean a whole life of lies and deception, just like Professor McGonagall had used poisoned tea to create an opportunity to talk to her. She thought about how her parents where probably suffering from the laxative, and asked herself if she could manipulate people like that. Not now, she concluded, but only God knew what kind of person she would become after seven years at Hogwarts.
But, above all, McGonagall's words had resounded deep in her heart. There were people like her in this world, and they gathered at Hogwarts. Maybe her schoolmates had been so mean to her because they felt that thing — the one that made her threaten a complete stranger with a blade, no matter how blunt —, that… Darkness in her, that could made an assassination class be normal. Darkness that could make an underworld of spies and murderers sound… Exciting.
With a start, Hermione noticed she was excited about the prospect of becoming an "agent". Her thirst of knowledge wouldn't settle down anymore, after finding such a world existed under everybody's noses. Maybe all that unwavering need to learn, that exhilarating feeling of exploiting her knowledge, like the hacking and switch-hooking, every little experiment was just her blood demanding her to become… that. To embrace her Darkness and to give up her normal life for one she could never tell her parents about.
The Grangers walked back inside the room, startling her and breaking her dark thoughts. They were sweaty and clammy, so pale! Hermione felt a burning rage inside, looking at them. She would never do that to her family. She would protect them. Now that the girl knew where to find it, she would obtain a strength enough to shield her precious parents from suffering. Never again they would need to console her, to kiss away her tears, to worry about her wellbeing, locked in a school full of enemies. Hermione would be strong, instead of weak. She would be unbreakable.
"You can give your answer until next Friday. Here is my card, if you have any doubts, any at all, call me. Read the folders, there is much I haven't explained about Hogwarts in them, you can also contact our Post Office about communications with the school, if you want to know more. I'm sorry, but it's getting very late, and I need to go".
They stood up, and Hermione accompanied them to the door, holding the black folder, the one for her eyes only, against her stomach skin, under her blouse. The secret now burned inside her, like fuel to a potent engine. She latched on it, holding the secret in her heart.
The pizza was very cold, when they finally sat down to eat. Her parents hadn't even offered to reheat it, but Hermione was okay with cold pizza, that night. They sat in silence, but her parents shared strange glances between them, holding a conversation only a long married couple could have. There was a shadow in their eyes when her parents finally looked at her.
They were going to miss her, understood Hermione with a start. And her heart hammered in her chest, and her breath was taken away. Because they were going to miss her. And she would miss them dearly, but she couldn't calm her heart. Because they would miss her, and that could only mean a single thing.
Hermione Granger was going to Hogwarts.
You will soon find out I love Author's notes.
First, THANK YOU ALL WHO READ AND REVIEWED THIS STORY! It was absolute success in my opinion, and FF net has some sweet graphics for me to drool over so many readers, followers and reviewers. I tried to answer each review, and if you want to review the first chapter now, don't worry, I'll answer it!
Now WhenTheWorldEnded has asked me why I rated this story as M. After carefully reading the site rules, I decided that M was the best rating for the book. While I won't write explicit sex (and, for God's sake, little Hermione is 11/12!), this is a story about intelligence agents. So, it's going to have violence, some cursing, and some sexual innuendo. The whole Deadly Series will be rated M. I know it makes the story harder to find (as the filters always exclude M by default), but I don't want to lead you guys on to something this story isn't, and I don't want to get the boot for posting it with the wrong rating.
So, I'm waiting new reviews :D Tell me what you liked about this chapter, what you think I could change, your doubts and fears and worries. There was a lot of information about this new world Hermione is stepping into, it may take some time to process it all, but this is a important chapter not only to explain most of the basics about the story, but also to stablish Hermione's character.
Soon, other characters will pop up, tell me if you have a favorite! Just reinforcing it, this story is strictly non-magical, as I said last chapter. But I'm drawing many parallels between magical Hogwarts and my Hogwarts, so don't think this will be just a Die Hard rip-off or, worst, a Spy Kids one. There will be new, interesting things, so... see you guys next chapter!
WARNING: this chapter hasn't been beta'd. So, take care! A reviewed version will be uploaded this week. I'm trying to write fast enough so I can upload a chapter per week, and a reviewed one, too! Wish me luck.
