Disclaimer: I have no claim to fame.
A/N: Big thanks to the new reads, favs, and follows. Even bigger thanks to my anonymous reviewer. In answer to your question, this will likely be a rather long and slow-progressing story. However, the chapters are probably going to be somewhat short, so it shouldn't take that long to read back-to-back-chapters.
As you can see, I'm attempting to get into some sort of regular updating pattern right now. No, this does not mean I'll be updating every other day. I'll likely slow down to once or twice a week once I get comfortable with writing again.
And without any further ado,
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CHAPTER THE SECOND
When Professor Tippit finally returned with Professor Dumbledore, nearly a whole hour had passed.
The first several minutes without her had been quite uncomfortable for one Hermione Granger as Madame Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall stayed to their corner muttering about potions and asking a Professor "slugged horns" about making something else. However, the two had soon realized the girl's situation and the professor quickly engaged her in somewhat stilted conversation in attempts to spark any sort of memory - the subjects ranged from Quidditch, a sport played on flying broomsticks, and the four Hogwarts houses to the possibilities of her parents' careers.
Hermione turned to look at Professor Tippit and the mysterious man with a long beard that entered the room. "Hermione Farmer-no, Granger, yes?" - Hermione nodded - "meet Albus Dumbledore, current Headmaster of Hogwarts. I've brought him to have a few words with you," Tippit said quietly to Hermione before she looked towards McGonagall. "I managed to catch up with Miss Woolsworth and Mr. Nye a few halls away. They stuck to what they said earlier." She turned her gaze back to Hermione. "Apparently, the two of them saw you appear in the sky in some sort of shower of gold sparkles and fall head-first into the middle of the Lake, whereupon you were grabbed by the Giant Squid who tossed you off to the side onto a large rock. I am unsure how much they've said isn't exaggerated, but your condition supports their statements, oddly enough."
Hermione nodded slowly, then turned her attention towards the Headmaster. "Hello," she said softly.
"Good afternoon, Miss Granger," he said kindly in response, blue eyes twinkling with amusement, interest, and maybe something else. "I understand you are lacking some memory."
Some? Hermione wondered.
"Yes, sir," she said instead.
"I have thought of a few spells that may help you in that respect." - Hermione visibly perked up - "Most of them haven't seen use inside these walls in years, so forgive me for any… rust, you could call it." The man slowly stepped forward to her cot and smiled down at her. "The first," he began, "is a test to see how many birthdays you have passed in your lifetime - how many your body has lived through rather than your mind, fortunately. The second is a way for me to learn how much your magic is tuned - an arbitrary measure of how much use you've had of it and how much you've learned to control it."
Hermione nearly asked him why he knew these spells if he hadn't used them when he either predicted or sensed her intention and answered. "The two spells are critical in accepting exchange students. They haven't seen use, however, in a very long time because Hogwarts is not known for exchanges. In fact, you are the first student to transfer to Hogwarts instead of immediately enrolling since 1876 - nearly a hundred years."
"Excuse me?" Hermione interrupted as politely as she could. "I - I am? I'm not - I am unaware if I am transferring here at all, are you sure - ?"
"You are indeed," the Headmaster stated. "I could find no record of any missing witch in Great Britain and it is infrequent for others to visit this area at all, let alone to fall from the sky into a lake. Now, may I?" He gestured with his wand towards her.
Hermione nodded and quieted as he performed his spells with a soft murmur of his voice and a few gentle hand motions.
"Ah!" he said after a few moments. "Thirteen years of age with an estimated four years of vigorous practice. How curious."
"Indeed," piped up Professor McGonagall from the background, causing Hermione to spin around suddenly in surprise, having forgotten the existence of any others in the room. "Shouldn't it only say two years? At thirteen, her education should have only lasted two years so far."
"Perhaps it was two years with twice the amount of practice as the average," the Headmaster stated calmly, but with the slightest furrow to his brow that hinted he did not quite believe his own words. "It is a rarely used spell as well, so it is possible I miscasted it." He eyed Hermione strangely, then looked past the professors to scan the room.
"Where is Poppy?" he wondered aloud softly.
"She went to speak to Horace, I believe," spoke McGonagall.
The headmaster hummed. "Let her know to send Miss Granger to my office after she is done healing. We'll have her sorted in private before announcing her presence to the school. Although." He paused. "Although, it is highly probable the students know this already."
"Gossips they are," Tippit mumbled. The rest of her sentence was indistinguishable.
"Um, Headmaster," Hermione began shyly, worrying her lip between two well-groomed rows of teeth, "are you sure I should be joining the school? You hardly know me and I hardly know myself, are you sure this is safe?"
He merely smiled mysteriously and turned to leave the room in response.
How did this happen? Hermione wondered. And why is it happening so fast?
