Chapter 1
To say that Hermione Granger was nervous, would be a vast understatement. She sat alone in one of the cars of the Hogwarts Express fiddling with the hem of her tartan skirt. All her life, she'd known she was different. Her parents had known it as well. It was only after her third bout of accidental magic at the age of seven that they finally sat her down and explained exactly what she was and why she could do what she was doing.
Although the truth sounded odd to her ears, her heart knew that it was not a made up story and even more importantly, her magic knew it as well. The tingling and feeling of vibrating out of her skin had been built up magic tightening and coiling over and through her searching for a place to release itself. Apparently, her emotions had quite a bit to do with when that would occur but once she'd been trained properly, she'd gotten it under control much more quickly than even her parents had expected.
As they had been informing her of magic, witches and wizarding schools, they also told her another truth and this one had sent her reeling. Her parents weren't really her parents! They loved her and she wasn't to ever doubt that fact and they were family – an aunt and uncle respectively – but not her biological parents. Her parents had been killed. Murdered. They had refused to join a group of Blood-zealots and their leader and had paid the price.
Her aunt and uncle – that was going to take some getting used to – had then informed Hermione that her parents had prepared for the inevitable backlash of their refusal. With help, they had managed to smuggle Hermione out of the Wizarding World and into the hands of her Squib relative. They'd altered her appearance with spells, glamours and strong potions before enlisting the help of her father's brother, Alex and his wife Helen.
The plan had been for her parents to lay low and eventually return for her, but such a thing had not come to fruition and so Hermione remained with her relatives in the Muggle World. It had been much to take in, but Hermione was intelligent for her age and absorbed information like a sponge.
"So, my parents are dead," Hermione stated haltingly.
Nodding, Helen Granger solemnly agreed, "Yes, my darling, but they loved you with all the power that was in them which is why they chose to place you with us. They knew that you would be safe here. Alex was virtually disowned by his family when it was discovered that he was a Squib."
"That's awful," Hermione exclaimed, face red with indignation.
"I wouldn't say that I was disowned," Alex stated calmly while ignoring his wife's snort of derision. "It was common practice to leave the Wizarding Community if a Pure-blood was born without magic. It was a stain of great shame and most families had their Squib off-spring sent off to an orphanages as soon as the absence of a magical core was detected."
Crossing her arms, Hermione breathed out angrily, "How could they do that?! Family is everything! You both taught me that!"
"It is," Alex assured her gravely. "My brother thought so as well. My understanding was that when our father decided I was useless as far as magical tendencies and sought to have me shuffled out of the Wizarding World, he kicked up quite the fuss."
A slightly sad smile graced the mans' features as he continued, "Hector was a good ten years older and it wasn't until I was almost your age that our father pushed the issue of abandoning me. By then, my brother was firmly ensconced as my hero and I followed him everywhere like a lost puppy. He was the best older brother any boy could ask for."
"What happened," Hermione asked, entranced.
"Hector broke away from the family and took me with him," Alex explained. "By this time he was an adult by Wizarding standards and he was quite brilliant at potions and was making a remarkable name for himself. Our parents let him go without forcing the issue when he promised to make sure they stayed financially secure and that the name Dagworth-Granger would be carried on and would not die out. That's a Pure-bloods' biggest fear; that their House will come to an end."
"How did you end up here," Hermione asked with a frown. "If my father kept you with him, like you said."
Rubbing his chin gingerly, Alex took a moment to reflect before answering. "That was my doing. As I got older, living in his world became more difficult. He did his best, bless him but he did. He hired tutors to teach me the basics since I couldn't go to any of the Wizarding schools because they were for kids with magic. There in lay the problem, tutors and such taught magic and I needed non-magical tutoring but the statute of secrecy prevented him from bringing anyone here to teach me. When he finally realized how unhappy I was and educationally stunted, he relented and sent me to a regular school here."
"So, you chose to leave," Hermione asked carefully.
"Hermione, it was the most difficult choice of my life," Alex insisted with great passion. "In a few years, you'll receive your Hogwarts letter." Grazing her cheek softly with his thumb, he added with an affectionate smile, "You'll never know the devastating disappointment of not having an owl peck at your window carrying that letter like I did. I cried for days when it didn't come. Poor Hector, I thought he'd go mad having to suffer through my grief."
Throwing herself into his arms, Hermione cried vehemently into his chest, "It doesn't matter a whit, daddy! I don't care if I never get an old Hogwerts letter!"
Chuckling wetly while rubbing circles into her back, Alex corrected mildly, "Hogwarts, dearest. Not Hogwerts."
"I don't care," came her muffled reply. "I don't wanna go to some snooty magic school with a bunch of stupid kids to learn stupid magic and grow up to be a stupid witch! I wanna stay here with you and mummy!"
"And you shall, Hermione," he assured her tenderly. "Right up until it's time for you to board the train. Still, I think it might be a good idea to get you some formal training before then. When you enter Wizarding society you'll need to know all of the proper things to say and do and it wouldn't hurt to send you to someone to begin working on small spells and such so that you're more prepared magically too. Pure-blood parents often teach their children from the cradle up just as you would have been, my darling."
"Can I still you call you mummy and daddy?"
Alex's heart broke at the lost, forlorn expression gracing Hermione's little face. "Of course. You came to us as a baby and you've been ours since the day you were placed in my arms."
Sniffling, Hermione looked to Helen and asked, "Are you a Squib too?"
"No, honey… I'm what's called a Muggle which is a wizarding term for someone who has no magic at all and doesn't live with other magical folk. If it weren't for you, I'd never know anything about magic because of that statute in place to keep the magical world a secret from everyone else."
Comprehension flooded Hermione instantly. "Is that why I'm so good at mixing things together? Cause my other daddy did potions? Will I have a Book of Shadows too?!"
"We have got to start monitoring your viewing habits, young lady," Alex laughed while ruffling her hair. "You and your mum watch far too many reruns of "Charmed" for my liking, but to answer your question… that's probably why. Hector was brilliant at anything he put his mind to but potion making was where he especially excelled. He became world-renowned."
"You're not too shabby on the mixing together of ingredients either, my love."
Bestowing on his wife a smile that nearly took her breath away, he answered back, "It must be in the genes. Becoming a pharmacist was easy enough, I'll grant you that and along with your dental practice being my best customer, I was guaranteed success."
"Oh, you," Helen admonished lightly, blushing. "Best day of my life was when my father started ordering from a barely out of school junior pharmacist. He may have gotten you started, but it was word of mouth that had everyone else banging down your door. You got where you are on your own merit."
"Thanks, love," was her husbands simple rejoinder but there was a world of feeling in those two words.
She knew that being cut off from his home-world still hurt and she often wondered if coming from a magical line, even with no magic of your own, still created a bond of some sort that couldn't be broken. If so, it was unutterably cruel.
"I have some friends in the wizarding world," Alex informed their daughter. "I think it's time to contact them and begin your training. Okay?"
Hermione nodded in reluctant agreement.
"Hermione," her daddy began tentatively. "Once you begin actively learning and utilizing your magic, other things will change too. They will have to in order for your magic to flow more naturally and easily."
Hermione's lip trembled. "What things," she asked fearfully.
"Well, right now, you look a lot like mummy."
Hermione's gaze swung to her mum taking in the pleasing features, dark brown eyes and the curly hair almost the exact same shade as the troubled eyes staring back at her.
"Your real daddy put several spells on you called glamours as well as feeding you potions of his own devising in order to change what you look like, so that you'd be safe. He chose mummy's looks because they were far enough away from our side of the family that no one would recognize you although you resemble your birth mother much more than my side of the family."
"But I like the way I look," Hermione said mutinously. "I don't wanna look like someone else."
Helen squatted down next to the little girl and said quietly, "I love that you want to keep looking like me, it makes me very happy to hear that." Tucking a stray curl behind the shell of Hermione's ear, she went on quietly, "But, daddy explained it to me and it seems that the magic inside you won't work properly if you aren't in your originally born form. You could get hurt or worse. Do you understand?"
Propping her head on her mothers' shoulder, Hermione sighed and said quietly, "Okay."
They had weaned her off of the potions, her daddy saying that since they'd been in her system for such a long time that doing it that way was the best way. None of the potions had hurt her or made her addicted to them, but they had bound some of her magic and he led Hermione to believe that if her biological father hadn't, she would have had more powerful accidental burst of magic. The fact that she'd had any, was surprising.
After weeks of gradually lowering the dosage and then stopping them all together, they waited another two week before painstakingly lifting the glamours and when she was finally revealed as her true self, Hermione could hardly believe her eyes.
Gone was her pretty brown hair, just like mummy's. Gone were her mummy's eyes. Gone were the freckles that used to grace her nose and cheeks. Gone was everything she'd ever known of herself. To her parents dismay, she burst out into uncontrollable sobs, rushing from the room.
She'd heard her daddy say to mummy to let her go, that she needed to come to terms with her new identity. He'd been right. Hermione had stared at her reflection relentlessly trying to reconcile her old self with her new. Months went by before she felt that the person in the mirror was no longer a complete stranger.
"You are almost an exact replica of your mother although I can see Hector in the brow, nose and chin. She was considered one of the most beautiful women to ever grace the Wizarding world." With a derisive twist to his lips, he added, "All the Black women were beautiful in their way, but Cassiopeia was as stunning on the inside as well as the outside. You take after her in that way too."
Cocking her white-blonde head to the side, Hermione murmured, "Please tell me about them."
Looking off into the distance, he said dreamily, "They'd been Sorted into different Houses and rarely came across one another. In earlier years, they didn't have Potions class at the same time. It was only in their Fifth Year that Slytherins and Ravenclaws began sharing that particular subject. Your mother was a class-A student and she became a Potions Mistress in her own right. I think that was one of the things that drew them together. Intellectually they were ideally suited."
"You really liked her, didn't you?" Hermione asked, curiosity swimming in the light blue orbs so like her mothers.
Blushing like a school boy, he confessed, "I had the biggest crush on her. I was a silly, young lad but she was gracious enough to bear my inept attempts to gain her attention. Not many people were kind to me, you see. I was ridiculed and picked on as Squibs often are which was another reason Hector allowed me to attend Muggle school."
Frowning, Hermione said, "The more I hear about this place, the more I don't wanna go."
Taking her by the slender shoulders, Alex said with sincere conviction, "It can be a wondrous place for someone such as yourself and I will not deny you the right to experience it. However, if get there and truly do not like it, you can come home."
Hermiones' peaked look cleared before saying with relief evident in her voice, "Thank you, daddy!"
Hermione was brought out of her troubling thoughts by the sound of the door of her compartment sliding open revealing a round, pleasant face.
"Neville," she exclaimed, jumping up to greet her friend.
Bowing slightly from his somewhat pudgy waist, he greeted her ceremoniously, "Good day, Miss Dagworth-Granger."
Mimicking him with a slight curtsy, Hermione returned with practiced equanimity, "And to you, Scion Longbottom."
Formal greetings out of the way, they rushed at each other, hugging in such an enthusiastic manner that it would have horrified Neville's grandmother, setting them up for a sound scolding.
Pulling back, face flushed, Neville asked, "Are you excited?!"
Biting on her lip, Hermione said quietly, "Part of me is but the other part is equal parts scared and homesick already."
Taking her hand in a familiar gesture, her friend pulled Hermione down until she was seated next to him. "I get it," he said, squeezing the small fingers he held in consolation. "It is frightening, but it's the Sorting that has me worried. If I'm not placed in Gryffindor like my parents, Gran will have a royal fit."
Pressing the suddenly moist palm, Hermione exclaimed stridently, "Well, if you aren't, Nana Gus will just have to deal with it and she better not give you any grief about it either!"
Neville marveled at Hermione temerity when it came to his Gran. The old woman petrified just about everyone she came in contact with, including him at times. She could be blunt and abrasive, but with Hermione she was almost patient when teaching her their ways. Neville was certain that there had been a glint of admiration in her shrewd, calculating eyes when Hermione has easily mastered the levitation spell.
"Very good, child. Your mother had natural ability when it came to charms as well. Clearly, you share that affinity. I'm sure Filius will be most pleased." At her confused expression, Augustus informed her, "Filius Flitwick is the Charms Professor at Hogwarts."
"Gran's already so disappointed in me," Neville mumbled despondently.
Hermione clicked her tongue in irritation. "Forgive me for saying so, but if she'd stop holding your parents up as a perfect example of wizarding skill, and beating you over the head with their accomplishments, she might take the time to notice that you have your own talents. Your spells have been going along swimmingly since we got you a new wand. Haven't they?"
Neville nodded. "If she ever found out that I switched it out with my father's… well, I don't even want to think about her reaction to that!"
"Oh pish-posh," Hermione airily waved away his fears. "Once she hears about how you've improved, she'll not think twice about you dad's wand. I honestly think she wants you to succeed and it doesn't matter whether you do it with your wand or his."
"You don't get it, Hermione!" At his sharp tone, she searched his down bent head. Meeting her gaze briefly, he said, "It's like she wants me to be him! She won't let me be my own person! I love her and all, but she really drives me bonkers with how she goes on and on about him!"
Neville slumped in his seat, allowing his head to loll on Hermione's slender shoulder, seeking comfort. She wrapped her arm him and he snuggled closer as she patted his back and said, "She means well, you know. I don't think she understands how much she's stifling and hurting you; it's like she's blind to it. You have to make her see, Neville. You're a strong wizard, I can tell. You can become your own person while at Hogwarts, but you've got to stand firm with your Gran when you figure out who you are. Don't let her cow you back into submission. One of the reasons she likes me so much is because – to use her words – I've got gumption."
Neville let out a choked, dismal chuckle. "While I'm a lump of useless lard."
Hermione pushed his head away, jumping up and exclaimed with furious ire, "Don't you ever say that again! Do you hear me?! If those words come out of you in my hearing, I will hex your bollocks off and do it with a smile!"
Instinctively, Neville crossed his legs, and after a few seconds of glaring, Hermione busted out into a fit of giggles while her friend watched her closely, unsure of her intentions.
Flinging herself back next to him, she yanked him forcefully until he was smashed up to her side, her warmth easing the chill that had settled in his limbs. With great affection, she murmured into his hair, "Now, you stop being such a daft goober. You're gonna be amazing, and you know I'm pretty on the mark about these things."
She couldn't see it, but Neville's face broke out into a big grin. "Yeah, you are," he whispered, believing her words because Hermione Dagworth-Granger was the most brilliant witch he'd ever met. So, if she was determined to believe in him, then he was determined to make her proud.
