Chapter 2

Mud-blood

Hermione stepped through the door and into an empty office. She shut the door behind her and examined the room. There were filing cabinets, two desks, a single window, and the sour smell of burnt coffee. One desk had a typewriter that looked like an antique, the other was covered in tall stacks of paper. The only strange thing was an ornate fireplace on one wall. It was enormous, nearly six feet tall and its sides were marble columns topped with detailed carvings of winged dragons. It seemed completely out of place to Hermione. From the door came the sounds of her parents aggressively knocking and shouting for her to let them in.

"Odd," Hermione thought, "the doorknob must have disappeared again."

She ignored her parents and stepped closer to the desk covered with paper. Hermione picked up the top sheet of one stack and discovered a list of school supplies, identical to the one in her pocket. Hermione marveled again at certain absurd items such as, 'broomstick' and 'Transfiguration', before replacing the paper on top of its pile. Then she crossed the room to examine the fireplace.

In between the carved dragons, a few objects sat on the marble mantle. Hermione leaned in, examining what she thought was a peculiar little telescope, until she saw it had no lens. She knew she shouldn't touch anything, but her curiosity won out, and she reached to pick up the metal object. Before she could touch it, the object started making a high-pitched wailing noise. Startled, Hermione pulled her hand back and looked around the room. There were no other doors besides the one her parents continued to knock on and shout through.

"Is it some kind of alarm?" Hermione wondered frantically.

As suddenly as it had begun, the noise stopped. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and took a step towards the door, deciding it was time to let her parents in.

As she took a second step, Hermione heard a whooshing sound and felt a wave of heat coming from behind her. She turned back to see emerald green flames burning brightly in the fireplace. At the center of the flames, Hermione could see what she thought was a person rapidly spinning in place like a professional ice-skater. Their spin slowed down until they came to a stop. They ducked under the mantle, and as they stood up straight, Hermione saw it was a heavy-set, middle-aged man with large sideburns and a mustache. The man brushed soot off the long black robes he wore, which came down to his ankles with wide cuffs on the sleeves that hung loosely from his wrists.

The look he gave Hermione was half annoyance, half curiosity, "Who are you? How did you get into my office?" he asked in a calm yet stern voice.

"I'm… I'm Hermione Granger sir, I received a letter that told me I'm a muggle-born, and it listed this address so…" Hermione trailed off, distracted by the noise of the door behind her shaking and rattling from her parents' effort to open it.

The man in black robes glanced past Hermione to examine the door, then he reached into his robes, pulling out a thin piece of wood. Thinking of the Hogwarts' school supply list she had just been looking at, Hermione guessed this must be a 'wand'.

Her friend Margaret loved finding sticks to wave around, pretending they were magic staffs, wands, or swords. Apparently, Margaret's aunt Libby had both wooden, and crystal wands that she bought at a festival near Stonehenge, but Hermione had a feeling the wand she was seeing now might be the real thing.

"Is he about to do magic?" Hermione wondered, caught between terror, fascination, and curiosity.

The large man flicked his wand, and the door behind Hermione burst open. Her mother stumbled inside, propelled forward by her father. They had been trying to force the door open, and their momentum sent them cascading into one of the desks, stacks of paper toppling over, pale parchment cascading onto the floor like a miniature avalanche.

"Hermione!" Her mother exclaimed, righting herself and turning to give Hermione an angry look, "What were you thinking? Why did you lock us out? What is this place and how did -," she cut off, noticing the man in black robes and letting out a short scream.

Hermione's father leaped forward, putting himself between his wife and the robed man, "Who are you, sir? Did you send this letter to my home?" He held the envelope of the letter from Hogwarts in his hand and shook it angrily towards the man with the wand. As her father gesticulated wildly, the envelope slipped from his grip and fell towards the ground.

Not looking the least bit intimidated, the man pointed his wand at Hermione's parents and whispered a word. There was a flash of blue, then after a moment of waiting, Hermione realized that her parents were no longer moving. They had become still as statues, and somehow the paper falling from her father's hand had stopped in place a foot above the ground, where it floated with no visible means of support.

"Is this magic?" Hermione said, curious and excited despite the fear that threatened to overwhelm her.

In a business-like tone, the man with the wand said, "Ahem, yes. Just a modified freezing charm we use on muggles. Now, Ms. Granger was it? I am Mr. Alan Scot, head of the Muggle Liaison Office. You are not the first muggle-born whose family has been, let's say 'skeptical' when learning about the Wizarding world."

"Is it real then? Magic, and Hogwarts? It's not just illusions or some kind of prank?" Hermione asked, giving Mr. Scot an intense look.

The seriousness of her tone and her facial expression seemed to give Mr. Scot pause.

He looked her in the eyes and said, very clearly, "Magic is real Ms. Granger. Your parents are not the first to think this is some kind of ruse, but I can assure you that this is no joke."

Since receiving the letter, Hermione had not allowed herself to believe. It had felt too much like one of Margaret's fanciful stories about meeting fairies, or seeing a dragon flying past her train the moment no one else was looking. Hermione worried that it would all turn out to be her imagination running wild. But now, it felt like a floodgate had been thrown open, thoughts and questions pouring into her mind and out of her mouth.

Hermione began talking at a furious rate, "Alright, say I believe you, how do I know it's not just advanced technology? Motor vehicles and space travel would seem like magic to a traditional indigenous culture. What kind of energy is magic? Is it electromagnetic, or chemical, maybe nuclear? I found a bunch of high school textbooks at the library, and I've read about the conservation of energy, and thermodynamics. Does magic follow those rules? Why didn't the fire burn you? It was green, which I think is only created through chemical reactions. Is it chemistry? Or is alchemy really a thing? Newton believed in alchemy, I read a biography on him last year, or maybe-,"

Mr. Scot cut her off, looking slightly exacerbated, and said, "Ms. Granger, are you interested in attending Hogwarts?"

Realizing she'd been ranting, Hermione simply nodded.

"Wonderful," Mr. Scot said, "I'll need to unfreeze your parents and explain a few things. Why don't you go wait in the hall?"

Hermione did not want to leave, "Sir, I'm not sure my parents will believe you."

"Oh, I'll help them understand, don't you worry," he said as he opened the office door and gently pushed Hermione through.

The door closed behind her and soon after, she heard the familiar sounds of her father shouting. Surprisingly, his shouts died off quickly, and Hermione could not make out what was being said. She spent the next few minutes fretting, hoping her parents would listen to Mr. Scot.

"Margaret will believe me," Hermione thought, "She'll be so excited, though she'll be jealous... I wonder if her aunt Libby is a real witch?"

Finally, her parents emerged from the office. Their eyes seemed a bit unfocused, and they both wore foolish grins.

"Let's get back to the car," her mother said cheerfully.

"Yes dear," said her father, not looking at Hermione as they began walking out of the garage.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, "Did Mr. Scot convince you?"

"Yes," her mother said, "he explained the scholarship fund. You're very lucky Hermione, without the scholarship I don't think we could afford to send you to a private school."

"I can go then?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"Of course," said her father, sounding pleased, "that Mr. Scot said a graduate from this school can easily get into Oxford or Cambridge. He said the campus is somewhere up north, we'll have to buy you a new jacket."

Her father lifted his hand to scratch the stubble on his cheek and as he did, Hermione caught sight of the letterhead on the page he held. It read, 'Hogwarts School of Science and Mathematics'.

"I'm sorry you won't have your friend Margaret around this fall," her mother said consolingly, "But I'm sure you'll make new friends, there's bound to be more kids who enjoy learning and reading as much as you do. You're just too clever for public school."

Confused, Hermione asked, "Did Mr. Scot tell you where I can buy my school supplies?"

"He said the school will provide everything. Apparently, they have an office here in London. We're going to drop you off, and then I'm taking your mother to Harrods to buy her something nice," her father said, seeming unconcerned about leaving his eleven-year-old daughter in the city by herself.

More baffling, Hermione's father loathed spending money. The idea of him shopping at Harrods was laughable.

Her mother giggled and blushed before seeming to recall something, "Oh, and Mr. Scot said to give you this," Her mother pulled a note from her pocket and handed it to Hermione who quickly read it.

Ms. Granger,

To put your parents at ease, I have modified their memories so that they believe you've been accepted into a private muggle school. Additionally, I have placed a charm on them that will keep them distracted until this evening. A Ministry of Magic employee will meet you at the Leaky Cauldron and take you to purchase school supplies. Travel to Hogwarts is provided in the form of a school train. Based on your family's address, you will need to catch the train in London. The Hogwarts Express departs from King's Cross Station on September 1st, at 10 am.

-Mr. Alan Scot, Head of the Muggle Liaison Office

Amazed, Hermione said nothing as they walked back to their car. Not much later, her father pulled the car over, and Hermione saw an old shabby-looking pub squeezed between two modern buildings. A small sign above the pub's door read 'The Leaky Cauldron'.

Hermione climbed out of the backseat and said goodbye to her parents. They hardly seemed to notice her and drove off without looking back. Her father did not seem bothered by the cars honking at him as he pulled into the thick city traffic.

Hermione thought to herself, "Whatever that spell is, I should learn it at some point. I've rarely seen my parents so relaxed."

As she walked towards the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, the door opened, and the largest person Hermione had ever seen squeezed out onto the main street. He wore a brown trench coat with many pockets and carried a pink umbrella. His strange appearance seemed to confirm that Hermione was in the right place.

Her friend Margaret often talked about the elves, goblins, and giants that showed up in her favorite stories. Hermione always thought it seemed silly, she figured if there were magic creatures, scientists and researchers would have found them years ago. Now, seeing this man that must be ten feet tall with legs twice as thick as her body, Hermione wondered if things like unicorns or dragons might exist after all.

After the giant man had stumbled off down the street, Hermione entered the pub. It was dimly lit inside and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust.

A few patrons sat around one of the room's half dozen tables, talking quietly and drinking from wooden mugs. A short woman sat at the end of a long bar, lined with stools. Behind the bar stood a bald man who was filling a pitcher with a dark foamy liquid. The barman, and everyone else in the room, wore robes of a similar style to what she'd seen Mr. Scot wearing. Hermione walked up to the bar and climbed up onto one of the tall stools.

"'Ello miss," the barman said, giving her a toothless grin. He introduced himself as Tom.

"Hello sir, I'm Hermione Granger, I'm supposed to meet someone from the ministry here."

"Are you the muggle-born then?" a voice to her left asked.

Hermione turned to see the woman at the end of the counter had turned to look at her. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail, and her long fingernails were painted ruby red.

"Um, yes," Hermione said. Something about the way the woman said 'muggle-born' bothered her.

"Very well. I am Patricia Boot. I will escort you to Diagon Alley. If you must ask me anything, please refer to me as Miss Patricia, follow me."

With that, she stood and walked towards the back of the room. Hermione hurried to catch up. They went through a door, and into an alleyway. Patricia walked briskly to a brick wall and pulled out her wand to tap on a few bricks. The wall began to change. Bricks turning and twisting, opening into a hole. The hole continued to grow until it was large enough to drive a car through. Hermione gave a small gasp. Instead of leading into a building, the newly formed archway revealed a cobblestone street bustling with people and lined on either side by shops and restaurants.

Patricia set off into the crowd without looking back. Hermione, who had been gazing around, awestruck by the appearance of the archway, was forced to hurry after Patricia. She almost lost her among the many robed figures in the crowd, but managed to catch up with her as they passed a shop called 'Quality Quidditch Supplies'.

"Miss Patricia, wait!" Hermione called, panting slightly.

Patricia stopped, turned to give her a look of disgust, and said, "Keep up girl. I thought muggles were at least capable of walking."

Hermione said nothing as they continued down the street. She was careful to stay near Patricia so as not to be left behind, but the venom in her voice when she said the word 'muggle' left Hermione feeling incredibly uncomfortable, and a little sad.

Near the end of the street, they reached a set of stairs leading up to an enormous marble building. Hermione thought it looked like a cathedral, or maybe a bank.

Without looking at Hermione, Patricia said, "Wait here," And without another word, she walked up the stairs and entered the building, leaving Hermione to stand awkwardly by herself. Luckily, the nearby shops were fascinating, even without stepping inside. There was an apothecary, an ice-cream parlor, a 'potions' supply store, and the shop she'd seen before with the odd word 'Quidditch' in its name.

As Hermione was examining the animals on display in the window of 'Eeylops Owl Emporium', she saw a family leaving the shop. There were four boys, all taller than their rather short and plump mother who was accompanying them. Each of them had bright red hair and two of the boys were identical twins. Like most of the people walking along the cobblestone street, they wore robes that came down to their wrists and ankles. The boys' robes were black, while their mother wore lavender robes, a bit of lace around the collar.

As they passed Hermione, she heard the mother saying, "No Ron. The school has free owls you can borrow, we can't afford to buy each of you a bloody bird."

The youngest of the boys looked crestfallen. He appeared to be about the same age as Hermione. She wondered if he would be at Hogwarts.

Hermione couldn't hear what the boy said after that, but she could hear his Mother's response, "Because Percy is a Prefect, Ron! If you don't quit whining I won't take you to Florean's for ice cream."

As the family walked into 'Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions', a different store caught Hermione's eye.

"A book shop!" She thought, her heart beating faster at the mere thought of reading books that she wouldn't find in most normal libraries or stores.

She took a few steps before halting, and remembering "Patricia said to wait here,"

Hermione felt torn between following instructions and wanting to sprint to the bookshop as fast as possible. With an effort, Hermione forced herself to be patient.

After about half an hour, Hermione grew bored of looking at the outsides of the shops. She took a seat on the bottom step of the staircase, elbows on knees, chin resting on open palms. The shadows had grown a little longer, and according to Hermione's watch, three hours remained until she needed to meet her parents in front of the Leaky Cauldron.

Finally, Patricia announced her return with a small cough. Startled, Hermione jumped to her feet. Patricia gave her a nasty smile and held out a small bag. She gave it a shake, and Hermione recognized the sound of coins clinking together. Hermione reached out to take the bag, but Patricia let it drop from her hand before Hermione had hold of it.

The bag hit the corner of the step and spilled open. Silver and bronze coins tumbled onto the cobblestones. Quite a few coins skipped and rolled away, scattering chaotically.

Hermione grabbed the bag and began scrambling to collect the coins. It took her a minute to hunt down the last of them. Once they were back in their bag, Hermione noticed Patricia smirking down at her.

"You missed one," she said mockingly, pointing off to Hermione's right. A silver coin had fallen into the mud at the edge of a puddle, half burying itself in black muck. Hermione's cheeks turned pink. She hurried over to the puddle and bent to grab the last coin.

Patricia laughed cruelly, and Hermione felt embarrassed, but also angry.

She turned and said, "Why did you do that? You clearly dropped it on purpose."

"I had to, you almost touched me. I can't have mud all over my hands." Patricia explained.

Hermione looked at her hands which were rather dirty from picking up the coins. Feeling more annoyed than ever, Hermione snapped, "But I didn't have any mud on my hands until you dropped the coins all over the place."

Patricia gave her a sneering smile and said, "A mud-blood's hands are never clean. Good luck with your shopping, not all of the shop owners will take filthy money, especially from someone dressed like you."

With a final, derisive laugh, Patricia strode off back down the road, in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron. Coins of her own jingling in her pocket as she walked. Hermione felt like she had been slapped. Her anger was gone, replaced by a deep sadness. Hermione had never heard the word 'mud-blood' before, but it seemed obvious that it must be an offensive term for muggle-borns.

Hermione was old enough to understand that the world could be an ugly place. She had learned about the history of slavery in school, as well as the Holocaust, and other human-made tragedies. In her excitement at discovering this secret community, she hadn't thought about the fact that these witches and wizards were simply human beings. They might have magical powers, but they were just as capable of bigotry and hate as any group.

Trying to shake off her dark pondering, Hermione reminded herself that she had only met a couple of people from the magical community. She had no way of knowing if the prejudice she'd experienced today was commonplace. Her parents had explained to her that since the sixties, biases like racism had become less socially tolerated, but they did still exist.

"Just to be safe," Hermione thought, glancing at her watch, "maybe I should go buy some robes first so I can blend in better. I'll have to remember to take them off before I meet my parents, that would be hard to explain..."

Checking her watch again, Hermione saw she had just over two and a half hours to get her shopping done. With a tight hold on her money bag, she set off towards 'Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions'.