Did you know baseball is a minor sport in the U.K.? Probably worth a google.
I went into anaphylactic shock this week and had to be taken to the hospital in an ambulance. This year is not going too well…
Finally, finally, finally, Hermione's booklist came in for Hogwarts. Cedric said that more than likely they would just have to buy Standard Book of Spells Grade II and whatever book the new Defense professor required. Easy peasy. Mum and Dad also wanted to buy her another robe since she grew a bit taller and then she would still have to get parchment and ink and whatnot.
"Whoa, that's a lot of books," she said, unfurling the list. "Break with a Banshee, Gadding with Ghouls, Year with the Yeti."
"I thought those were informative fiction," said Beatrice. "They read like it."
"I got more of a beauty pageant vibe," said Roger. "All he wants is world peace."
"Even so, he must be brilliant to accomplish so many things," said Hermione. And he was handsome.
Very handsome.
"If we go to Diagon Alley next week I can get them all signed," she continued. "You know how much I like book signings."
Pop!
"Good morning," said Tavi, bowing her head slightly. "Master Cedric kindly requests that you all meet next week at the Leaky Cauldron for back-to-school shopping."
"We'd be delighted," said Beatrice.
"I will let him know—"
"Wait, please," said Hermione. "How is he? Truthfully."
Tavi hesitated and wrung her hands.
"Master Cedric has not been sleeping well and I think if Tavi wasn't around he wouldn't be eating either," she said. "T— I am glad he has been visiting here. He is always in high spirits when he comes home. I also believe going on holiday did him some good."
Another thought occurred to Hermione.
"Tavi, could you tell me who Dobby the house-elf belongs to?"
"He belongs to the Malfoys." Tavi looked around and leaned in conspiratorially. "They treat their house-elves horribly. Almost as bad as the Blacks did. I only met Dobby once, about thirty years ago, and he is the only elf I know who wishes to be freed." She shuddered as if it were the worst thing in the world. "It takes a lot to drive an elf to that point it does."
Hermione sat down in a chair, so she could be closer to eye level.
"Could he have been ordered to steal mail from Harry Potter?" she asked.
Tavi gasped. "Certainly not, miss! It is illegal to tamper with mail." Her bat like ears twitched. "Master Diggory is calling. Week from today, twelve o' clock, Leaky Cauldron."
"We'll be there," said Roger.
"Very good." Tavi bowed and disappeared.
Next week, they showed up at the Leaky Cauldron. Mr. Diggory and Cedric were already there, dusting themselves off from use of the floo network. Mr. Diggory looked rather apathetic but kept up his appearance and neatly trimmed beard and mustache. Cedric had a tired look about him like always, but his clothes weren't wrinkled, and his hair was damp from a recent shower.
"Hi, Cedric," said Hermione, holding out her fist.
He pounded out their secret handshake replying, "Hi, Mimi."
"So, Gringotts?" said Roger.
"Yes," Mr. Diggory rubbed his forehead. "I can't believe how many textbooks we need to buy for Defense this year. It's ridiculous. You'd think the witch teaching this class would have some sense."
"The books are rather spread out with information," said Hermione. "But it is good information. Perhaps Flourish and Blotts will have a bundle deal."
"You know what I think?" said Beatrice. "I think Gilderoy Lockhart is your new teacher."
"What makes you say that?" Amos asked.
"Only pretentious professors push students to buy the books they write," she explained. "I had several like that in University and it was the worst. Especially, when they were expensive, and we didn't even use them."
"What did you do with them?"
"She sold them to a friend who turned them into art," said Roger. "Pretty pieces too."
"There's an idea," Mr. Diggory muttered.
Their first stop was Gringotts and Diagon Alley was as crowded as ever. A line of middle aged witches was out the door in Flourish and Blotts. Hermione hated to think about how crowded the inside was. At least she just needed the one book.
"Still want to get your books signed?" Beatrice asked.
"Ay… no," Hermione said, shaking her head. "It's not worth it."
In Mr. Puckle's vault, Hermione gathered her coins and chose her books for the year. She ended up with a rather large tome on Magizoology. Perhaps she and Luna could look through it and find creatures similar to the ones the younger girl claimed existed. She also chose a book on advanced wandless magic, and a Spanish translation of the Tales of Beedle the Bard. It seemed like an interesting read.
"Can I borrow it sometime?" Cedric asked. "I want to practice reading Spanish."
"Ask me in Spanish," she said.
"Er…" he screwed up his eyes as he tried to remember what she taught him. "I like to borrow the book, please. I to want practice Spanish reading."
"Close enough," she said. "I don't mind you borrowing it."
"Gracias."
"De nada."
"Very good, Cedric," said Mr. Diggory, puffing up with pride. "Three languages under your belt. Who else can boast that?"
Hermione raised her hand the best she could.
"Mimi speaks English, French, and Spanish," said Beatrice proudly. "Roger and I like to tease her sometimes. I talk in Spanish, he talks in French, and we see if she can figure it out. Hasn't noticed yet."
"You do that?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Well now she knows," said Roger, grinning.
Hermione would have crossed her arms if they weren't full, so she settled on glaring which only made her parents laugh. It wasn't easy being trilingual. She always had to have somebody read over her essays to make sure she didn't switch languages in the middle and she easily forgot the names for things. She dumped the books in a reusable shopping bag and tried not to pout.
When they left Gringotts, Hermione spotted a large figure pushing his way out of Knockturn Alley and beside him was a skinny boy with a mess of hair and round glasses.
"Look! It's Harry and Hagrid!" she said and pushed her way through the crowd to greet them, her shopping bag bouncing heavily against her hip.
Her parents laughed, happy to see their girl so excited about seeing someone from school. All the other times, she'd try and make them turn the other way or hide behind them as they passed.
Hermione grinned as she stopped in front of them. "Harry! Hagrid! How are you? It's wonderful to see you both."
"Hello, Hermione," said Hagrid cheerfully.
"Hello," said Roger. "I'm Dr. Granger. Hermione's father."
Confusion crossed the giant man's hairy face as he realized how different Hermione looked from Dr. and Dr. Granger.
"Pleasure to meet you," he said slowly and shook their hands.
"Nice to meet you, too," said Beatrice trying not to show her surprise at the height of the large man.
"Well, I mus' be off. Lots ter do," said Hagrid. "Try not to get los' now, Harry."
"I won't," he said. "See you at school."
"We were just at Gringotts," said Hermione. "Did you get any of my letters back from Dobby? I was worried when I didn't receive a reply. Ron said that you were locked up."
"Locked up?!" Dr. and Dr. Granger gasped.
"It's fine," Harry said quickly. "I'm fine."
"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley shouted. "There you are dear, we were wondering where you stumbled off to."
The Granger parents were lost now and began to murmur to themselves about Harry's home situation. If the child truly was being locked up and, by the looks of his thin frame and hand-me-downs, neglected, they should probably involve Child Protective Services. It was a little late at this point, but next summer definitely.
"Wait for us, will you?" Ron asked. "We just have to get to our vaults and then we can go 'round Diagon Alley."
She looked at her parents for permission.
"We're in no rush," said Beatrice. "How about we wait for you at that ice cream parlor? Our treat."
Ron brightened up. "Wow, thanks."
Hermione turned to invite Cedric and saw he was already being mobbed by Daven, Red, Lisha, Joanna, Chevonne, and a few others. He looked over and waved goodbye to her. She waved back and followed her parents.
Inside the ice cream parlor, Hermione rested her chin in her hands and studied all the brightly colored bottles of syrups along the back of the wall. The whole place had a Victorian feel to it with patterned tile floors and white counters trimmed with pastels. The sign on the wall boasted: Never melts! No mess! With a picture of a sticky faced child wearing a dopey grin.
Harry and Ron came in about thirty minutes later, grinning and ready to go. Beatrice and Roger bought them each an ice cream cone in that day's specialty flavor: raspberry jam and peanut butter swirl.
"We'll meet you at Flourish and Blotts at two o'clock," said Beatrice. "Have fun."
"Don't spend too much money," Roger added. "And no candy! This is your sugar quota for the week."
"And be safe."
"Don't forget to floss?" Hermione chimed in.
The three laughed, much to Ron and Harry's confusion.
The Gryffindor trio made their way down the twisty, cobble-stoned street. Ron stared longingly inside the window at the Quidditch store, until Hermione dragged him off to buy ink and parchment at Scribbulus Writing Instruments.
"Hello," said the cheerful young woman at the register. "We just got in a new type of quill. Dip it once in the ink well and you never have to dip again."
"We have those in the muggle world," said Hermione not intending to sound snobby or sarcastic. "We call them pens."
The witch was entirely unamused. Ron and Harry hid their snickers with coughs and each grabbed a pot of Standard Ink Well No. 2. The next store they went to was a joke shop where they found Fred, George, and Lee Jordan gathering up their stocks for this year's rounds of pranking.
"Some of these sound a bit mean," she commented as she looked at some of the prank items. Nose-biting tea cups, shrinking keys, Insta-Hair Remover.
"It's all in good fun," said Lee.
She twisted her mouth to the side and raised an eyebrow to show she didn't believe them. "All in good fun is replacing somebody's punch with Jell-O. Although I don't know why you'd spend eleven sickles on Insta-Hair Remover when Nair costs three pounds, that's about two sickles." She picked up the bottle and turned it over. "Does this have to be ingested or direct contact?"
"Direct contact," said the twins.
"Why don't girls just use this instead of shaving?" she mused and handed it back to them. "Must be so much easier."
None of them had a response to that, because they were boys and boys didn't shave until the novelty of facial hair wore off.
In a tiny junk shop full of broken wands, lopsided brass scales, and old cloaks covered in potion stains they found Percy, deeply immersed in a small book called Prefects Who Gained Power.
"A study of Hogwarts prefects and their later careers," Ron read aloud off the back cover, Hermione reading over his shoulder. "That sounds fascinating. . .."
"Go away," Percy snapped.
"' Course, he's very ambitious, Percy, he's got it all planned out. . .. He wants to be Minister of Magic . . ." Ron told Harry and Hermione in an undertone as they left Percy to it.
"Is that such a bad thing?" Hermione asked. "To want to be successful?"
"Well… no," said Ron, truthfully. "But he's so obnoxious about it and never lets in any room for fun. Bill was ambitious, but he knows how to have fun. Remember?"
"Yes, I remember."
Hermione supposed she could see his point. Even with her pursuit of knowledge and desire to succeed and achieve great things, she liked to relax and let her hair down a little. Watch movies, play games, and those kinds of things. It was just easy to get sucked up into school work when there was nobody to snap you out of it. With someone like Percy, it would seem like it wouldn't be a problem with Fred and George as brothers.
At 2:00, as planned, everyone met at Flourish and Blotts.
"Crikey O'Reilly," Hermione whispered.
Flourish and Blotts was crowded beyond belief, even more so than when they arrived, with middle-age witches and young students alike. A line went out the door of the little wooden shop and twisted down the street. Inside the glass window was a big standee of Gilderoy Lockhart. In large purple and gold letters read:
Gilderoy Lockhart will be signing copies of his autobiography Magical Me today between 12:30 and 4:30p.m.
Beatrice and Roger hurried over to stand on either side of Hermione and took her hands, ready to keep the crowd from closing in on them.
"Do you want to get your books autographed, Mimi?" asked Beatrice.
She did, but one look at the long line and she already felt overwhelmed. Like all the sounds were squeezing in on her brain and making her vision pulse. The magic in the air didn't help either. She shook her head and gripped their hands tightly, her shopping bags hanging heavily on her arm. As much as she would love to meet such a talented and handsome wizard, the din alone was already getting to her.
Ron and Harry caught on and moved to the front to help push their way in so they could get their textbooks. The rest of the Weasleys were already inside. Molly and Arthur were in line with Ginny. All of their second-hand books they purchased in a cauldron the youngest Weasley was carrying.
The wizard of the hour was dressed in forget-me-not blue robes and was smiling broadly for the camera. His wavy golden hair was topped with a wizard cap, tilted back so that it wouldn't cover his fringe.
"He has very nice teeth," Beatrice commented.
"How much you want to bet they're all dental crowns," said Roger, mildly annoyed. In fact, all of the men in the shop seemed annoyed at the handsome wizard who was stirring up all the fuss. Most of all the photographer who was dancing around to get shots. Hermione vaguely wondered if he was part veela but wasn't sure if there were male veelas.
"Crowns?" Cedric asked. Wait. How long had he been standing there?
"Yes, you see when people don't like how their teeth look, they get their real teeth filed down and then perfectly straight and perfectly white artificial teeth, called 'dental crowns', are put over their real ones," she explained. "Not everyone has pearly whites like Hermione. Never had a cavity. Of course, she'll still get braces next year."
Subconsciously, everyone who heard the conversation poked at their teeth with their tongues.
Ron yelped in pain when the photographer stepped on his foot. Lockhart looked over to see what the commotion was all about and gasped. "Why it can't be Harry Potter!"
The photographers immediately turned to take snapshots of the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry immediately backed away, bumping into Roger, who put a protective hand on the boy's shoulder.
The famous author swooped down bumping the Grangers out of the way and put an arm around Harry. "Big smiles for the camera please."
"Rude," Beatrice muttered.
He turned and saw Hermione. "And who is this? Potter's girlfriend no doubt. Pretty thing aren't you?"
"Thanks, I'm twelve," she said drily, too overwhelmed to be excited, and looked up at her parents. "I want to leave."
They nodded and moved through the crowds just as Lockhart gave Harry a set of his books for free. Ginny looked like she was about to faint when Harry put them in her cauldron.
"He had no idea," Lockhart continued, giving Harry a little shake that made his glasses slip to the end of his nose, "that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Híjole…
The counter was temporarily free, giving them enough time to get Hermione's textbook and pay for it, before the crowd surged forward again.
"Hermione," said Roger, into his daughter's ear, "You are either going to have a really good teacher or an absolute dimwit. No in between."
Certainly, he would know what he was doing. Dumbledore hired him after all. Well… then again, Dumbledore also trusted Snape. She had to concede that Snape did know his subject, but he was terrible with children.
"Why you—!"
Everyone gasped as Arthur Weasley tackled a regal looking man with shoulder length platinum blond hair to the ground. Gilderoy Lockhart looked pleased as if it was about him and the Weasley confusion clamored over one another either egging on the fight (Fred and George) or begging them to stop (Mrs. Weasley and Percy).
By the time they got out of Flourish and Blotts, Hermione was so overstimulated she wasn't gathering any new information. She was vaguely aware of her parents leading her to Magical Menagerie.
"Mimi."
"Nn?"
"Would you like to get a pet? I know you can't replace Pongo, but an animal is good for you."
"Nn-nnn."
"Use your words, Hermione," said Beatrice, gently. "¿Quieres un gato?"
Did she want a cat? She still missed Pongo with all her heart, but it would be nice to have a companion to come back to every day. Honestly, she thought that she'd get an owl, but Harry didn't mind sharing Hedwig with her.
"S-Sí," she stammered, the atmosphere taking its toll on her entirely.
Beatrice opened the shop door and the family went inside. It smelled like a pet shop, but didn't quite look like one. There were cages of owls of course and some with rats that rolled spools of thread and played jump rope with their tails. There was a turtle with a jewel encrusted shell and several bowls full of fish that seemed to be made of pure silver or gold. Along one shelf was an array of toads in all shapes, sizes, and colors. The cats seemed to just roam around the shop rather than be cooped up in cages. There were black cats and white cats, kittens and adults with a little gray around their noses, brown cats, striped cats; sleek cats and fluff balls.
"Hello," said the shopkeeper, a woman who looked quite a bit like an owl herself with her big eyes magnified by coke-bottle glasses and large brown robes. "How may I assist you today?"
"We're looking for a cat for our daughter," said Roger. "Preferably one that likes to cuddle."
"Well, we have lots of cats as you can see. Oh, dear not that one."
Hermione jerked her hand away from an orange Persian that could have passed for a small tiger.
"He's been here forever and has a bit of a temper. Nobody wants him," she said. "His name is Crookshanks."
Crookshanks gave the woman a dirty look and leapt onto Hermione's shoulder. He began to purr loudly and rub his cheek against her temple. She giggled and scratched his chest.
"I think we have a match," said Roger with a smile.
"How much?" Hermione asked.
The shopkeeper smiled, relieved. "Five galleons. He's half-kneazle so he's very smart. You see, Kneazles were the first familiars for witches. They are more intelligent than the average cat and can detect frauds."
"Oh, well remind me to bring him with me when there's a salesman at the door," Beatrice teased.
They stopped at a regular pet store on the way home and bought all the essentials for Crookshanks, including food, a litter box, and some mice that you could put food in to simulate hunting.
At home, Hermione brought Crookshanks to her room and set her stack of books on her desk. The cat sniffed around every nook and cranny, rubbing his cheek across most surfaces to get his scent down. After a while, he plunked down on her comforter and lay on his side. Hermione grinned and laid down across from him burying her face in his fur. She giggled when he nosed her forehead, whiskers tickling her skin.
"I love you, too," she whispered.
