Separatio Maris
Prologue
19th of September, 1990
In the playground of an old town stood a short girl with bushy hair. She stood alone, aloof, and unaware of her immediate surroundings. As the soft breeze blew harder and faster, her cheeks turned red and she heaved a sigh. A sigh of confusion.
Hermione Jean Granger had turned eleven that morning. Foolish, you would say, but she'd darted towards the playground in full speed without waking either of her parents. To say the least, she was dreading this day. Too many things were supposed to happen today – there was only so much an eleven-year-old introvert could handle.
At first glance, she would look like a typical nerd. Light brown hair which could be defined as wild (but even that would be putting it mildly). Hermione's parents were dentists – a fact that she wasn't proud of. She'd done a fine job hiding her unhealthy teeth from them as of yet, but both you and I know that it could not go on that way forever…
The Granger girl gasped as she felt a load drop on her left shoulder. Turning her head to look at it, she screamed loudly. It was a cat! A nocturnal type cat which seemed wide awake in the early morning. Strange, but –
"Am I speaking to Miss H. Granger?"
Hermione spun around to see a tall woman wearing something long and green that almost covered her fully. She had greying hair which was tied back in a neat bun. Her expression was stern. Normally, Hermione knew the drill, she would've yelled, "Stranger danger," on top of her lungs… but instinct told her that this woman wouldn't hurt her.
"Yes, who are you?"
"Minerva McGonagall," answered the woman and gave her a little smile. "I'm the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Pleased to meet you, Granger."
Hogwarts? Witchcraft and Wizardry? Oh, it wasn't that she was ignorant to the idea of witches and wizards! She'd read plenty of fantasy books to know what they were, they were non-existent. Without warning, a vivid memory thrust itself to into her conscience. She could see all the children that lived across the street pranking her as a child. She saw herself slipping on banana peels, banging into walls while her head was in a book… the list just went on.
And that was when she couldn't take it anymore.
McGonagall watched in shock as the girl in front of her bit her lip as if to prevent herself from crying. Her shoulders shook violently, and her face was slowly becoming obscured by a curtain of light brown hair. "Why, what is the matter, Miss Granger?"
The matter? The bloody matter? Couldn't this woman see what she was doing to Hermione? The girl had suffered through pranks, bullying, and neglect throughout her short life. She'd hoped to have a good, peaceful birthday. But she realised that all this while, she'd just been a bloody idiot. Good things simply didn't happen in Hermione's life, not frequently.
"THE MATTER?" she barked, gathering all her courage. "YOU PRANK ME ON MY BIRTHDAY – YOU, SOME FUCKING STRANGER I DON'T EVEN KNOW THE NAME OF, AND YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO ASK ME THE BLOODY MATTER?"
The McGonagall woman looked stunned. Perhaps, she'd never been spoken to in this way by someone Hermione's age. But then, the eleven-year-old was hit by a wave of logic. McGonagall was an adult – not to mention, a perfect stranger who seemed to somehow know her name…
Bloody hell, she was in trouble. Big trouble.
The woman cleared her throat and spoke, "Dear god! Miss Granger, I assure you that I'm not pranking–"
"BULLSHIT!"
Feeling more confident now, Hermione took a step closer and rolled her eyes, as if in complete boredom. She took a breath and launched into a speech,
"I may be only eleven, witch, but I'm not mental! I know what's right and wrong, I know what exists and what could never exist. Do NOT try to brainwash me, kidnap me or get me to follow you to your secret headquarters where you'd hold me ransom!"
McGonagall, to Hermione's apparent surprise, cracked a grin. The woman than took out a stick – fir, perhaps, and then twirled it into the air. The girl gasped as she saw the playground slide turn into a table laid with all sorts of delicacies. But that was not all. One by one, all the playground equipment turned into everything a normal kid would've wanted on their birthday.
With a sigh, McGonagall twirled her stick again and all the transformed playground equipment came flying towards them and landed next to the older one of the two.
"That's a wand," Hermione gasped, as realisation dawned on her. McGonagall nodded. Her eyes twinkled as she told the girl, "Take me to your parents, Miss Granger. Your life is about to change forever."
The bushy-haired girl grew skeptic. She knew thieves wouldn't admit to a crime they're about to perform but she had to try. She asked that woman if her intention was to rob her parents. Well, if the Grangers were thrust into a life of poverty, of course it wouldn't be the same.
The witch smiled and shook her head.
By the end of the day, Hermione locked herself in her bedroom and squealed in delight. She'd just received the best birthday present ever. After McGonagall had explained everything to her parents, she'd handed the girl a thick volume by the name of Hogwarts: A History. "Happy birthday, Miss Granger. I hope to see you next year at Hogwarts."
And with that, the Deputy Headmistress vanished into thin air.
"Dear, dear, Herm-bug!" exclaimed John Granger. "You sure are a lucky kid, aren't you? Just promise me that you'll take care of yourself at that place. Beat all the lads in the exams and show em what you got!"
Hermione looked at the two personages sitting in front of her for a long moment. She remembered how her father had been overly strict with her on numerous occasions, how her mother had only remembered her existence once a week amid all her work. How she sometimes wished she could run away.
Looking at John and Ariadne Granger at the moment, all her resentment towards them vanished and she gave them the biggest smile she'd worn in ages.
"I'm sure I'll kick them in the teeth, dad," she started. But then she paused dramatically and covered her mouth with her hands. "Or murder them," she added in a whisper as she drifted off to sleep that night. The grin on her face frightened Ariadne terribly the next morning.