Chapter Nine - The Home Visit

Wednesday 7th December, 1988

Every year, Christmas in the Potter household got just a little more manic. The seventh of December had, for six years now, marked the beginning of the most energetic, boisterous, exhausting, and entertaining period of the year for the family at number nineteen Thornbrook Avenue. The sixth had been both of Lily's parents' birthdays, and Christmas had never started until the following day when she was a child. As a teenager and young adult, it had been a family tradition that she'd continued to observe even when she was away from home, but since her parents had died, she used the tradition as an opportunity to remember them by.

This evening, Lily was trying to organise and supervise Harry and Thea as they put up Christmas decorations with reckless abandon. James, as had become annually expected, had tactically escaped the mayhem by going with Sirius to buy a tree, leaving her to manage their bundles of seemingly limitless energy by herself.

They'd been at it for about an hour at this point, and the living room was more closely resembling a warzone; there were garlands strewn about the furniture and unevenly taped to the mantelpiece, Christmas toys were haphazardly dotted around the room wherever space could be found, and Harry had managed to get himself tangled in a ten foot string of fairy lights.

Lily was trying to help him get free with one hand as he squirmed and wiggled while she held Merlin's head in her left hand from the Nativity set Remus had created for them a few years ago, but with prominent wizarding figures in place of the usual Christian ones. The scene showed the Hogwarts founders, minus Slytherin, offering gifts to Merlin and Morgana as they stood over the baby King Arthur. Really, it was as beautifully made as it was funny, so it was a shame to have seen Merlin lose his head, no matter how easy it would be to repair.

On the sofa, Thea was falling over herself as she giggled at her brother's situation, clutching a stuffed toy of Ulric the Gold-Horned Unicorn - the wizarding version of Rudolph, apparently. Last year, James had created a mystery for the children, in which Ulric had lost his horn in a forest near Mould-on-the-Wold, and Harry and Thea had to follow the clues to help him find his horn in time for Christmas. The seriousness with which he led the kids to saving Christmas had turned Lily into a puddle of sentimental goo, which had turned out to be dangerous because they'd already agreed to having no more children, and they'd come very close that night to changing that.

Blessedly, the men finally returned home just as Lily was reaching her wit's end with her bound son. Sirius barked out a laugh as soon as he walked in and set eyes on the scene, setting Thea off into more uncontrollable giggles. James came in and laughed too, but set down the shrunken tree and helped to untie a very disgruntled Harry, who promptly abandoned his efforts to hang the lights as soon as he was free, preferring to focus on hanging the stockings on the mantelpiece.

Eventually Thea calmed down enough to help the men decorate the now-restored tree, while Lily sat back and made suggestions, enjoying the temporary reprieve. An eclectic mix of normal and magical Christmas songs filled the room from the charmed turntable, and was filled with a contented warmth as Harry took his sister by the hand and spun her under his arm as they danced to songs she remembered from her childhood.

Once the tree was suitably - that is to say, suitably garishly - decorated, Sirius sat down on the floor to regale the children with his and James' adventure in bartering with a wood nymph who had apparently demanded they sing her a song in exchange for them taking a tree from her forest. They both paid rapt attention to his tale, being too young to remember him telling the exact same story three years prior.

James settled next to her on the sofa and offered her a mug of mulled wine as she shifted to lean into his side. 'He needs to come up with a new one soon,' he murmured quietly as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 'I think Harry will notice if he tells an old story again next year.'

She hummed in agreement as she snuggled further into his side. 'Definitely. We should probably tell him that tonight before he leaves. It'll take him a year just to come up with one and rehearse it.'

'You sell him short. He's been making shit up for his entire life, it's practically an art form at this point.'

'Because he's always been so talented with the arts,' she retorted sarcastically just as Sirius began to demonstrate the song they performed for the nymph. They both laughed lightly and Sirius looked up at them accusingly, making them laugh a bit harder to the confusion of the children. Maturely, he stuck his tongue out at the two of them, before returning his attention to the children.

'How was your day?' She asked once they'd stopped laughing.

'Not too bad. We're still trawling through the books to see how many laws could affect or be affected by the equal tax act, so it's mostly paperwork.' He took a sip of his drink but gestured that he had something else to say. 'Barclay popped by to ask me to ask you for a favour, actually.'

She screwed her face up, trying to place the name. 'M.U.S. Office Barclay?'

'Yeah. They've got a nine year old muggle-born girl in Newbury whose parents have booked an appointment with some specialists because of her magic. It's a perfectly happy home but the girl is super bright, apparently, and it's distressing her that nobody knows what's going on, so Barclay's decided to step in now.'

'And he reckons I could relate to her, so he wants me to tag along?'

He nodded. 'Yeah, Saturday afternoon. He didn't say who you'd be going with, but it won't be him because he's been rammed at St. Dom's recently.'

St. Domnus' House for Young Sorcerers, or St. Dom's for short, was the wizarding orphanage that had come about as a result of Alyssa's Law passing. It was privately owned by the Potters and the Longbottoms, but largely subsidised by the Ministry and overseen by the M.U.S. It had taken a few years and a lot of effort to get it up and running, but it had grown to be an amazing space for orphaned or rehomed wizarding children. Over the last year they'd been getting closer to out-growing their building, so had moved to an refurbished old manor house just outside of London with the help of dozens of volunteer house-elves.

'Alright, sure,' Lily agreed. 'I'll head over the Ministry tomorrow and badger him for details after I've dropped the kids off at school.'

-oOo-

Hermione Granger had been frustrated beyond measure. It was her steadfast belief that the answer to every question she could think to ask could be found in books, if only she looked hard enough for the right one. The problem she was having was that she'd searched through every non-fiction book in the Newbury library that could have been related to the strange things that happened around her. Once she'd exhausted that source with no luck, she'd begged her parents to take her to the Reading library, but after multiple trips there she'd still not found anything relevant.

After that, she'd convinced her parents to take her to Oxford so she could search the public library there too. The trend unfortunately continued though, and so after uncountable trips to various libraries and just as many trips to disbelieving and unhelpful doctors, her parents had gotten in touch with a specialist in children's behaviour in the hopes that they'd be able to shed some light on the matter.

They were due to visit at one o'clock today and Hermione was on tenterhooks. She was excited at the chance to finally get some answers, but the very real possibility that this specialist wouldn't know - or worse, wouldn't believe them - was looming over her like a dark cloud. From the moment she'd woken up, she'd been so antsy that she'd barely been able to stay still, and had started to make her Mum dizzy with her constant getting up to look out of the window to see if they'd arrived yet.

After an hour of nervous fidgeting and pacing, Mum had finally given up and had all but dragged her out of the house and to the local library, which is where she sat now, struggling to concentrate on the book she'd picked up off the shelf: The Many Legends of King Arthur. It was a topic she'd been reading about for the last month and something that she found inexplicably fascinating, but today she'd read the same paragraph four times over because her mind kept wandering with her apprehension.

Geoffrey of Monmouth was a University of Oxford educated cleric and magister (teacher), largely credited as the creator of Merlin in the Arthurian tales, likely taking the tales of Nennius, an eighth-century monk and mystic who wrote tales of a wizard named Myrddin. For his chronicle 'The History of the Kings of Britain', he is considered to be one of the most influential people in regards to the evolution and popularity of the legend of King Arthur and the Knights of the Roundtable.

While she typically preferred reading non-fiction books due to the limitless wealth of knowledge they provided access to, Hermione had found herself gripped by the story behind the legend of King Arthur since she'd stumbled across it tangentially in a book she was reading last month about the Middle Ages in Britain. It was so interesting how the legends were continued for centuries, simply by word of mouth because the majority of people couldn't read, only to be suddenly deemed nonfactual towards the end of the seventeenth century. Beyond that, something about the stories just resonated with her in a completely unfamiliar way.

'Right, come on then sweetie. We'd best be going if we're going to get home and have lunch before our guest arrives.'

Hermione jumped as her Mum spoke to her and snapped her head up to look at her; she'd gotten lost in her thoughts again. She nodded and stood to place the book back on the shelf, but warred with herself before doing so. It looked to be a really interesting book if only she could actually concentrate on it. Maybe I should take it out, she thought, and turned around to find her Mum looking at her with a fond smile.

'Go on, then,' Mum said teasingly, and she raced as fast as was acceptable in a library to the librarian's counter to check out the book. The librarian, Mrs Witz, knew her by name of course, and after some perfunctory small talk about the book, they made their way out to the car.

The drive home did nothing to quell her nerves. Mum tried to ask her about the book she was reading but she was so distracted that she barely even heard the questions. She ended up giving uncharacteristically short answers while staring out of the window to avoid the concerned glances being reflected in the rear-view mirror.

Though she tried to quell it, a question erupted out of her unbidden as they pulled into the driveway of their house. 'What if they don't know what's going on either?' she blurted in a small voice.

Her Mum pulled the handbrake and undid her seatbelt before spinning around in the driver's seat to face her. 'I know you want answers, sweetpea, but we need to be ready to accept that there might not be any yet. If that's the case, then we thank them for their time and we go on as we always have. Maybe in the future, it'll turn up in the news, or the episodes will stop. It might just have to be a case of wait and see.'

Hermione sniffled and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She didn't think she could bear it if they had to resort to 'wait and see'. For years she'd been teased and picked on for being too clever, too into books, not pretty enough, and struggling to make friends. It was just a matter of time before she had some sort of episode at school, and then everybody would think she was some sort of freak of nature. 'I just want to know what's going on,' she whispered.

'I know, darling. I know,' her mum cooed. 'If worse comes to worst, and nobody can explain, then we can try to figure it out ourselves. Then maybe, when you're older and we've done plenty of research, you can be the specialist that people call on, and can calm down an upset or scared little girl yourself, yeah?'

She wiped her face again and nodded shakily. 'Okay.'

Lunch today was her favourite: jam sandwiches. With dentists for parents, she didn't often get to eat jam because of the sugar content, but every now and then she got jam on toast or jam sandwiches as a treat or, like today, as a distraction. Dad had gone above and beyond with the shopping this week - not only had he bought her jam, but he'd bought her raspberry jam, which was by far and away the best jam there was.

The knock on the door finally came as she was helping her Dad tidy up the kitchen, and her Mum went to answer it.

'Good afternoon. Helen Granger, is it?' she heard a woman's voice ask after the door opened.

'That's it. Afternoon,' Mum replied.

'My name's Lily Potter, and my colleague here is Anne Webb. Do you mind if we come in?'

Dad dried his hands and ushered Hermione through to the living room as Mum led their guests into the house before bustling off to prepare some hot drinks. 'Richard Granger,' he introduced himself with an outstretched hand, and one of the prettiest ladies she had ever seen took it with a smile.

'Lily Potter,' she said pleasantly. 'And you must be Hermione?' she asked, and Hermione nodded shyly.

'Hello.'

Mrs Potter smiled kindly and offered her hand to shake. 'I have a son just a bit younger than you are. I imagine you're feeling really quite worried at the moment, but I promise that there's absolutely nothing to be anxious about. Today, I'd just like to take some time to talk to you, if you're okay with that?' Hermione nodded again, a bit more confidently. 'Excellent. We'll wait for Mum to come back shall we?'

Hermione took a seat on the sofa next to her Dad as he directed the ladies to the other. Mum came in and provided them with drinks before settling on her other side, taking one of Hermione's hand in hers and settling them on her lap.

The other lady, Miss Webb, spoke up for the first time. 'Before we begin, we should make it clear that there's a little more going on here than you're aware of. Me and Lily aren't from the clinic you reached out to, but we are here in their place. Once we found out about your circumstances, we reached out and organised to come and see you because we can provide answers that they wouldn't have been able to.'

Mrs Potter picked up where Miss Webb left off. 'What we're going to discuss today is going to sound quite unbelievable, but I promise that we're being completely truthful and will be able to provide proof of that fact. We only ask that you give us a chance to explain everything fully. Just over seventeen years ago, I was in the exact same position you are now Hermione, so I know exactly how strange this afternoon is going to feel for you.'

'Please,' Dad said, slightly confused, 'go ahead. We're all ears.'

Mrs Potter nodded. 'The easiest way to discuss this is to get the big unbelievable part out of the way first.' She paused and took a breath. 'Magic is absolutely real, and your daughter is a witch, as are Anne and I, which is why Hermione had been doing unexplainable things. Better yet, we can prove it, and answer any questions you might have.'

Hermione's eyes went as wide as saucers and she shifted to the edge of her seat.

-oOo-

It was almost seven o'clock before Mrs Potter and Miss Webb left. The time had gotten away from them in the six hours they'd been telling stories of a hidden magical society, and a magical school, and a Ministry of Magic, and magical wands, and magical books! They departed with the agreement that they'd return in the new year to answer any more questions, and the opportunity to visit the magical district in London, and Mrs Potter had left her address so they could write to her in the meantime if they wanted to.

'Well,' her Dad started, 'I'm not sure what I was expecting from this afternoon but it certainly wasn't that.'

Hermione spun to face him, her expression imploring. 'You do believe them though, don't you, Dad? They were telling the truth,' she pleaded. 'I know it! It's like I could feel it!'

'I don't see how we couldn't,' Mum replied, pulling her into a hug.

Dad chuckled. 'I think my mind stopped protesting when she turned the side table into a dog.'

She looked between them both hopefully with tears in her eyes. 'So I can go? To Hogwarts?'

'We've only ever wanted the best for you. Sounds to me like the best has become Hogwarts when you're old enough.'

'Oh, thank you!' she cried and glomped onto him. 'Thank you, thank you, thank you.'

He picked her up and rocked with her as she sobbed into his neck, and her Mum joined the embrace, sandwiching her between them. They stood there for a short while, and eventually Hermione calmed down.

'I think we ought to create a list of things we want to find out about - that way we know what to ask Mrs Potter when we see her next, and we'll know what books to look for when we visit this Diagon Alley,' her Mum suggested, and she nodded furiously before racing off to get some paper and a pen, completely ignoring the muttered, 'I didn't necessarily mean right this second,' as she left the room.

A/N: Enter Hermione. She and Harry aren't going to meet just yet, but I hope you enjoyed reading her introduction to the story.

Please do drop me a message if you notice any errors or inconsistencies in this chapter, or any before it for that matter.

Kind regards, amidland.