Chapter 13: Li

I know my daughter is hiding something from me.

Actually, I need to rephrase that. She isn't hiding something from me. She simply isn't giving me the complete picture of the whole thing.

And I am sure that she knows that I know that she isn't giving me the complete picture.

She usually has this beautiful smile, that lights up her entire face when she greets us on the other side.

But this time, the smile was absent. She had a rather distracted look on her face and she waved at us only half heartedly. Every couple of seconds she would turn to look at that boy in glasses who was walking beside her, but with his head bowed. Harry, his name is if I am not mistaken.

On her other side, walked a tall gangly redhead. This has to be that Weasley boy, Ron, again if my memory serves me right.

It was not difficult to see that the three were walking as slow as possible without it being considered impolite. It was as if they didn't want to leave each other's company now that their holidays were over.

The slow pace was actually a very smart thing, assuming that a part of the planning into it had been deliberate.

Most would have missed it, but I am not most. I am her mother after all and these things are as apparent to me as stripes on a zebra. Kudos for them trying though.

My little girl, no scratch that, she was no longer little, my girl was wincing with every other step she took. It could be seen on her face, not easily, but if you knew what you were looking for, you would find it. And it seemed the other two were struggling slightly as well. It seems like my daughter has gotten into yet another adventure and this time she has been hurt grievously.

I know her. I know she will play it off as nothing. Play it off that it was a trick of the light and nothing else. Play it off by being extra springy in her steps. All the while biting her inner lip so that she doesn't cry out from the pain.

But I won't be fooled. I share a quick glance with my husband of so many years and see the same sentiment as mine written on his face.

We might not say anything until she says something but there is no doubt that we will not be fooled.

Stephen might not be the most articulate person around, but he is plenty smart when it comes to dealing with people, especially children and adolescents. And that is why he has been so successful treating the younger ones, while I take care of the adults.

We both notice Hermione giving Harry a hug, and then holding him at arms length and telling him something. I have no idea if the boy has even heard her, for his head still remains bowed and he didn't return Hermione's hug either.

With a handshake to the other boy, Hermione finally turned towards us. She had acknowledged us earlier, which had led me to remark on her strained smile, and so knew where we were waiting for her.

Well, we would have waited at the portal if we had been able to, but unfortunately as we were not magical, we had to wait just outside like fools, not knowing if the train had arrived or not.

I hated it. It may have been five years now done, but I still hated it.

Before you mistake me, let me categorically tell you that it is not magic that I hate nor is it the fact that my daughter is magical.

No, that was not the problem.

I hated the fact that we were effectively barred from the wizarding world. That seven years of her life would be spent in a world where we could not help her, not see her for major part of the year and could not share experiences with her.

It was literally the most brutal way to sever the bond between children and their parent. We see our eleven year old children enter the world and at the end, we meet a seventeen year old young adult who is as much a stranger to us as we are to them.

And I hate it.

I could fill several more pages with my rambling, but suffice to say that it infuriates me that there has been no effort made to even try and integrate the parents who are non-magical.

They send us a damn letter, one person shows up claiming to be the Headmistress of a school we have never even heard of and is at times condescending, and they expect us to send our flesh and blood to be under their supervision for seven years. Parent teacher meetings seem to be nonexistent, cultural programs seem to be foreign to them and the list goes on and on.

I will save my rambling for later.

My daughter has reached as has been the tradition in our family, it is Stephen who greets her first with his traditional bear hug.

He has never said it, but of the two of us, I reckon he missed her more.

Again, I saw the wince on Hermione's face and before she could help it, an audible groan escaped from her lips.

Stephen quickly realized what he had forgotten in his happiness in seeing his daughter and pulled out of the hug.

Next was my turn. And once again, family tradition was that I give her a hug as well, usually one that rivals in strength to Stephen's.

I will find out what it is that my daughter is hiding from me or my name isn't Lisa Granger!

A/N: Halfway through. Should get started on the next set I suppose. No?