Chapter 3
Pure-blood
The curly-haired woman working at the robe shop greeted Hermione politely as she entered, "Hello deary, first year at Hogwarts?"
Hermione nodded, and the woman smiled, her cheeks full of dimples.
She pulled out a measuring tape, and said, "Very well, come stand here."
The woman made no mention of Hermione's clothing while measuring her waist, inseam, bust, and height. She chatted merrily about someone named 'Fudge' while she worked. Apparently, he was their prime minister. From what the woman said, Hermione quickly concluded that magical politicians were just as incompetent, and useless as their muggle equivalent.
"And he has the goblins all in a tizzy," she continued to ramble, as she bagged up a set of robes she had hemmed with magic to fit Hermione, "Going to Gringotts will be even more of a hassle if they respond with increased security measures. Well then, for a set of ten robes, and one winter cloak, it will be one galleon and three sickles."
Hermione pulled out the sack of coins she'd been given and retrieved one silver coin and one bronze, then she said, "I'm sorry, I don't know how much that is, are either of these a galleon?"
The woman smiled sweetly at her and said, "Oh, I see, are you from a muggle family?"
Hermione nodded, and she continued, "Well you have a sickle there," she pointed at the silver coin, "and a knut. A gold galleon is worth ten silver sickles, and a bronze knut is worth half a sickle.
Hermione did not spot any gold in her bag, so she handed over thirteen of the silver sickles. Before leaving the store, she pulled off her sweater and replaced it with black robes that covered her jeans and t-shirt. The robes had a patch sewn onto them depicting a shield with a lion, badger, raven, and a snake. Hermione assumed it was the Hogwarts' coat of arms. There was also a small number one on the patch, marking her as a first-year student. As Hermione stepped back out onto the street, she felt herself relax.
"I look just like all the other shoppers now, no one else will guess I'm a muggle-born." Hermione thought, confidently making her way to the next shop.
Over an hour later, Hermione had a slightly battered, second-hand trunk full of everything on her list, except for a wand. Her money bag was incredibly light now, holding only four sickles and ten knuts. Hermione had just left the bookshop, where she had purchased used copies of the required school textbooks for only two sickles each. Then she had picked up a few additional books that looked interesting. Despite the coins Hermione had saved buying her trunk, cauldron, and textbooks second-hand, she might have spent more than she could afford.
She entered a little shop with a sign that read 'Ollivanders: Makers of fine wands since 382 B.C.'. A thin old man with wispy white hair stood behind a counter. On her left were two spindly chairs, sat in front of the shop's single window that let in the late afternoon light. Tall dusty shelves lined the walls, and stood in tightly packed rows behind the counter, filling the rest of the room. Each shelf held a few dozen long, narrow boxes that Hermione assumed contained wands. The man behind the counter lifted his head to make eye contact with Hermione. His eyes were an electric blue, and he stared at her unblinkingly.
He tilted his head to the side, looking curious, and said, "Who might you be?"
"I'm Hermione sir, Hermione Granger."
"Granger? Hmm, not many of those, and you're not on my list. You must be a…" he trailed off.
Hermione had been certain he was about to say 'a muggle-born', and had visibly cringed.
His eyes continued to study her, then after a moment, he said, "I am Mr. Ollivander. Will you be attending Hogwarts this year, Miss Granger?"
Hermione nodded.
"Then you'll need a wand." Mr. Ollivander said, opening a drawer and pulling out a measuring tape.
"Mr. Ollivander," Hermione said cautiously, "How expensive is a wand? I was given a scholarship to buy school supplies and I may have purchased too many books."
He chuckled and smiled at her, "Oh? Sounds like you're bound for Ravenclaw Miss Granger, I will make you a deal. Answer a few of my questions, and I will give you a wand for the nine sickles worth of coins you have left in your money bag."
Hermione's eyes widened and she wondered, "How could he know? Is mind reading possible with magic?"
Oddly, the question seemed to fade quickly from her mind, and instead, Hermione asked, "Is a wand worth more than nine sickles? I don't want to overpay."
This earned a full belly laugh from Mr. Ollivander. Hermione was surprised to hear such a strong sound coming from his frail frame.
"It is indeed. Wand materials are expensive. Wandmakers do receive some government subsidies, but even then, I must charge nine gold galleons per wand."
"But I only spent ten sickles, or I guess a galleon, on extra books, '' Hermione said, confused, "I bought most things second-hand. I couldn't have afforded a wand even if…"
Hermione stopped talking mid-sentence, she had already solved the mystery. That woman, Miss Patricia, had stolen some of her school funds. Hermione clenched her jaw and had to stop herself from stomping her feet in frustration.
"So you'll answer my questions then?" Mr. Ollivander asked, still smiling, seeming not to sense Hermione's anger.
Hermione wasn't sure she liked Mr. Ollivander, and she was suspicious why he was offering such a large discount for a few simple questions, but she needed a wand.
Taking a deep breath, Hermione calmed herself and said, "I will. But I can't stay long."
"Wonderful, are you the first member of your family to possess magical talent?" Mr. Ollivander said quickly.
"As far as I know, yes," Hermione answered.
Immediately, Mr. Ollivander asked his next question, "How old were you when you first used magic?"
"I was seven, it was on my birthday, a boy knocked over my cake and -,"
Mr. Ollivander cut her off and asked, "What was the magical effect?"
"Oh," Hermione stammered, "Um, I boiled water with my voice."
"How long was it before your instinctual magic burst out again?" Mr. Ollivander asked, leaning towards Hermione, his eyes were bright with excitement.
"Well, my fingers grew longer that same year," Hermione said, thinking back to the day she met Margaret.
"Interesting, I wonder if you are a Metamorphmagus. Or, maybe it was a variant on a switching spell, copying an attribute from the tree… Hmm."
Mr. Ollivander paused for a few seconds, appearing lost in thought, then he asked, "And in the last three years? How many times in total would you say you experienced spontaneous bouts of magic?"
"None," Hermione said, and Mr. Ollivander looked crestfallen.
"What I mean is," Hermione continued, "Since then it's all been intentional magic."
As he took in her words, Mr. Olivander's face changed from somber to joyful.
"Haha!" Mr. Olivander exclaimed, "Extraordinary! Tell me, what kinds of spells have you managed?"
"I read about telekinesis, so I tried that, and it worked. I can move small objects around fairly easily, but things with more mass are harder."
"What else?" Mr. Ollivander was practically bouncing with enthusiasm.
Hermione continued, "Once at the park, I managed to get a dozen swans to follow me in a line. Everyone thought I used bread to lure them, but I didn't use anything like that. I just focused on them one at a time, and then I could tell them what to do."
"Incredible," Mr. Ollivander said, shaking his head in amazement, "Muggle-borns are rare, and control over instinctual magic is even less common. With your intuitive nature and obvious intelligence, you could become quite powerful. Thank you for answering my questions, this will be of immense help in my research."
"What research?" Hermione asked, checking her watch as she did, it was six forty-five, she had a quarter of an hour before meeting her parents.
Mr. Ollivander noticed her checking the time, and he said, "The hour has grown too late. For now, let us find you a wand. When is your birthday miss Granger?"
"September nineteenth, sir," Hermione answered.
He asked her a few more questions while his measuring tape began to measure her, floating from place to place on her body. After writing down some notes, Mr. Ollivander moved from shelf to shelf and pulled down six boxes, laying them on the counter in front of Hermione.
"Please give each of these wands a wave, in turn, starting with the one on your right." He requested.
Hermione opened the first box Mr. Ollivander had indicated.
The wood was dark and a spiraling pattern had been carved into the grip. It was about as long as her forearm, thicker at the base and tapering to a point about twice the size of a pencil. When Hermione's hand brushed the polished wood, she felt something like an electric current run up her arm. She pulled back her hand for a moment, then snatched the wand up and gave it a small wave. Lines of golden light blossomed from the tip of the wand, dancing and spiraling outward in all directions. They dissipated in less than three seconds, leaving Hermione staring at where they'd been, her mouth hanging open.
Mr. Ollivander began putting the other five boxes away, saying, "Found it on the first try! I did have the advantage of knowing a bit about your magical tendencies, but still, not a common occurrence. Vinewood, ten and three-quarter inches, and a core of dragon heartstring."
Hermione's mind began buzzing with questions, and it suddenly seemed odd to her that she hadn't thought to ask any of them sooner.
Feeling like a fog had lifted from her mind, Hermione began speaking rapidly, "What's Ravenclaw? How did you know how much money I had left? What is a Metamorphmagus? Are dragons real creatures? Is their anatomy more like traditional Chinese dragons, or more like western dragons? What did you mean when you said I could become quite powerful?"
With another chuckle, Mr. Ollivander said, "Send me an owl once you're settled in at Hogwarts. You'll have answered most of those questions by then, and you'll have more interesting ones to ask me. It was nice to meet you, Miss Granger."
With that, he pulled a wand of pale wood from his pocket, twisted in place, and disappeared with a loud crack.
After standing dumbfounded for a few moments, Hermione remembered that she needed to hurry back to the Leaky Cauldron and that she needed to change. She took off the black robes she was wearing, put them in her battered trunk, and retrieved her sweater. After putting it back on, Hermione hurried out of the shop and back towards the end of Diagon Alley. Her trunk had wheels on one corner and a handle, making it easy for her to wheel it behind her with one hand.
When she reached the end of the street the entrance she had come through was no longer an archway, it had reverted to a simple brick wall once again. Luckily, it was only a minute or two before someone came along to tap their wand on one of the bricks. Hermione hurried through the newly reformed archway and entered the dimly lit pub. The barman, Tom, spotted her and waved, giving her another toothless grin. She smiled back and hurried towards the front door.
"Might want to put that away, miss," The barman called out as she passed him.
Hermione paused and looked at him, not sure what he meant. Tom nodded at her hand, and she looked down to see that she still held her new wand. It felt so natural in her grip that she hadn't noticed it. Hermione set her trunk down and opened it to store the wand inside. As she did she saw her money bag and realized that Mr. Ollivander had pulled his disappearing act without taking her payment.
She thanked Tom and headed out the front door and onto the sidewalk. Her parents arrived almost as soon as she reached the curb. Her father climbed out and helped Hermione load her new trunk into the back of their car.
He didn't ask Hermione about her afternoon, instead, he grumbled under his breath, "Five hundred quid for a pair of shoes, insanity. No one needs more than a good pair of trainers, absolute bollocks."
Hermione put it all together on the drive home as she listened to her parents bicker. They had spent over a thousand pounds in a few short hours, and then the magic had worn off. Her father was enraged, but he did not seem to know where to direct his anger. He cursed at every driver who came within twenty feet of him and leaned on the horn constantly until they were out of the city.
Hermione wondered if magic had been the best way to solve the issue of her parents' lack of belief. Mr. Scot had altered their memories, which meant that Hermione would have to continue to deceive her parents about the nature of her new school, and the charm to keep them 'distracted' had caused a lot of upset for her family. Her father already complained about every non-essential purchase, and he considered many things to be unnecessary luxuries, like a new bike or a set of encyclopedias for Hermione. After being tricked into a shopping spree, Hermione thought there was a good chance he would become even more tight-fisted with his wallet in the future. Throwing magic around had just exacerbated the problem rather than solving it.
When they arrived back home, her mother helped her bring her trunk to her room and hugged her good night. As soon as she was gone, Hermione opened her trunk and pulled out her dog-eared copy of, 'Hogwarts a History'. It was only three hundred pages long, Hermione figured she could get through half of the book tonight, and finish the rest the next day.
Hermione opened to the first page and began to read. The first few pages explained the origins of Hogwarts and its founders, Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. Hermione took particular notice of Salazar's views on people like herself.
"Salazar believed in the supremacy of those who came from magical families (pure-bloods). He considered interbreeding with muggles to be equivalent to Beastiality. On the subject of muggle-borns, Salazar is often quoted as saying, 'We know not how they steal magic from those of pure blood, but I do believe they are thieves. It would be an insult to the Wizarding world to teach them our secrets.'"
Hermione shut the book and closed her eyes. She felt sick, as though the words she had read were a poison spreading through her. She stared at the word 'pure-blood'. Then the words she had heard earlier that day came to mind, "A mud-blood's hands are never clean."
It seemed that every time Hermione grew excited about finding this magical world, she was harshly reminded of the 'us versus them', tribalistic mentality that was ingrained in Wizarding society.
Eventually, Hermione did what she always did when life grew stressful, she read. The book went on to explain that the other founders were not as biased against muggle-borns. In fact, Salazar left the school after he and Godric argued, and then dueled, over the subject of allowing muggle-borns to attend Hogwarts. Despite this, one of the four Hogwarts houses still bore his name and symbol, a snake.
She only managed to read a few more pages before falling asleep with her new book still laying open on the sheets beside her. This was typical behavior for Hermione, and her mother thought nothing of it when she woke her the next morning.
Hermione however, awoke in a panic, realizing her parents would want to see her new uniforms and textbooks. They still believed Hogwarts was a school that focused on advanced maths and science. After hurriedly dressing, Hermione ate a quick breakfast of sausage and eggs. Then, before her mother could ask her any questions, Hermione announced she was going to the library.
This did not surprise her mother, who simply said, "Alright, but when you get home I need you to sweep the patio, and tidy up your room."
Hermione grabbed her rusty bike and peddled towards the town center. She wasn't going to the library, at least not yet. First, she needed to find her friend Margaret and ask her for a favor.
"I haven't even told her about Hogwarts!" Hermione realized as she followed a path that ran alongside a canal.
When she reached the park next to the council flats, she saw Margaret sitting on a swing, and breathed a sigh of relief. Hermione had been worried Margaret wouldn't be there. She always felt awkward going to Margaret's apartment. Her mother was usually drunk and tended to alternate between burning food on the stovetop, vacantly staring at the television, or yelling at her daughter.
Margaret sat on the stationary swing with slumped shoulders, her feet resting on the ground.
"Hey, Margaret!" Hermione called as she came closer and hopped off her bike.
Margaret looked up but did not smile or reply as Hermione leaned her bike against the frame of the swing-set.
"What's going on?" Hermione asked, taking a seat on the swing next to Margaret.
She looked back down at her knees before answering Hermione's question, "I'm waiting for my cousin, Chelsea. She goes to Saint Mary's."
Hermione said, "Isn't that your older cousin? The one that got arrested?"
Margaret nodded. Hermione remembered the story. Margaret's cousin had been caught stealing from a department store. The CCTV footage proved she had done it, but her grandfather had hired a fancy lawyer and the charges were dropped.
"She's fourteen now. My mum thinks if I spend time with her I'll… I'll stop being such a weirdo," Margaret's face flushed in embarrassment as she said the last part.
Her mother often said hurtful things like that. Hermione didn't know what to say. Instead, she pulled out 'Standard Book of Spells, Year One', from her backpack, and held it out to Margaret. She took the book and read the cover. Then, looking confused, she opened it and flipped through the first few pages.
Hermione, who had been anxiously waiting to tell her friend everything, waited impatiently for Margaret's reaction. She was surprised when Margaret snapped the book shut, and handed it back to Hermione.
"Where did you get that?" Margeret asked, sounding strangely annoyed.
Hermione began to tell her everything. About the letter arriving, inviting her to Hogwarts. Her parents' skepticism, and her family's trip to London. As she began to explain about making the doorknob appear with magic, Margaret cut her off.
"Hermione, stop it." Her voice shook slightly, and Hermione saw tears in her eyes, "This is why my Mum doesn't want me to hang out with you anymore."
"What?," Hermione said, surprised by the anger in Margaret's voice, "She doesn't want us to be friends?"
Margaret began talking faster, "We can't keep pretending to be witches, Hermione. Magic isn't real, and we're getting too old to play pretend. My mum is right, if I want to be accepted at my new school, I can't keep playing childish games and reading stupid fantasy books."
"But this is real!" Hermione interjected, holding up the spellbook, "I went to a secret road in London where they sell wands, and cauldrons and -"
Margaret laughed. Not a kind laugh an ugly derisive laugh that reminded Hermione of Patricia Boot.
"Are you that jealous?" Margaret asked, "I get to go to a good school and you're stuck here, so you have to make up this story? You're not magic Hermione, you're just a weirdo."
Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, someone else shouted, "Oi, Marg!"
It was Margaret's cousin, Chelsea. She had bleached blonde hair and wore tight-fitting, high-waisted jeans, and a short pink blouse. She had many bracelets on each wrist, large hoop earrings, and a few ugly gold rings on one hand. She walked up to Hermione and Margaret, giving them a wide smile revealing crooked, rather yellow teeth. Hermione tucked the 'Standard Book of Spells' away in her bag as the older girl approached.
"Hey Chelsea," Margaret said, "You want to get going?"
"Sure, but who's your friend?" Chelsea asked, looking Hermione up and down before remarking, "Oh it's your little friend Hermione!" Her smile broadened as she continued, "I hear you can do magic, is that true?"
Margaret looked embarrassed and tried to distract Chelsea by saying, "Hermione was just leaving. Anyways, when are we meeting up with those boys you mentioned?"
Chelsea kept looking towards Hermione and said, "Not until eleven, and you used to talk about Hermione all the time, I thought she was your best friend? Come on now, show me a trick."
Hermione hesitated. She had been hoping to borrow a Saint Mary's uniform from Margaret. She had planned on showing it to her parents so they'd continue to believe she was going to a normal school.
She looked at Margaret, who was avoiding her gaze, and said "Can we talk tomorrow? I can explain everything, I promise."
Margaret looked at Hermione, then at Chelsea, who stood watching them, appearing entertained, finally she said, "Come on Chelsea, let's go. I want to watch some football."
"But I want to see a magic trick," Chelsea said, her smile growing more mocking, "Can't you pull a rabbit out of a hat, or, I know, maybe make some fire?"
From her purse, she pulled out a pouch of tobacco, then proceeded to roll herself a cigarette.
Margaret looked uncomfortable as Chelsea said, "Come on now, give us a light little miss magician."
She waved the sloppily rolled cigarette in Hermione's face. Hermione said nothing, her cheeks burned bright red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. She wanted to explain everything to Margaret, but even before her cousin arrived, she didn't seem to want to listen. Now, with the older girl here, Hermione thought it would be worse if she said anything about Hogwarts.
After a moment, Chelsea gave up on tormenting Hermione and pulled a green lighter from her purse. She lit the cigarette and took a few drags.
"Well you're not very entertaining," Chelsea said to Hermione, then she turned to Margaret and offered her the burning cigarette.
To Hermione's surprise, Margaret took it from her and awkwardly held it up to her lips. She sucked in a bit of smoke and immediately began coughing.
Chelsea laughed, and took the cigarette back, saying "You'll get used to it, all the girls in my grade started smoking their first year at Saint Mary's, the nuns will give you a beating if they catch you, but it's totally worth it."
Margaret tried to stifle her coughing fit and nodded along with Chelsea's advice. She seemed intimidated by the older girl, but also desperate for her approval. When Chelsea offered it again, Margaret took a
tiny, careful drag off the cigarette. She managed not to cough and then held it out to Hermione. Margaret's expression looked pleading, as if she were offering Hermione a cure for her infectious condition of being a 'weirdo'.
"My parents say smoking will ruin your teeth," Hermione said, feeling uncomfortable.
Chelsea laughed and Margaret joined her.
"This must be why you have so many friends, you're so rebellious," Margaret said sarcastically, looking at Chelsea as she spoke.
Chelsea nodded in approval and said, "Yeah, I mean, don't you ever get tired of being so uncool? Maybe you should, like, find a unicorn to be friends with or something."
Margaret laughed at this remark too, but her eyes revealed a hint of sadness. The truth of the situation hit Hermione like a physical blow. Margaret wanted to be cool, or at least, what she perceived as cool, and clearly, Hermione would not fit into the picture if she didn't want to smoke and watch boys play football.
There was no one to confide in. Her parents were hopeless, and Hermione figured it was better for them to believe she was going to a regular school, but she had assumed Margaret would be thrilled! She had a book of magic spells, a real magic wand, and a cauldron to make magic potions. Hermione even had real ingredients, not the random dirt and grasses they mixed in buckets as kids, pretending they were sleep potions or mystical elixirs. Instead, Margaret had dismissed Hermione's claims about the magical world and made fun of her to gain favor with her horrible cousin.
Hermione felt humiliated and betrayed. Margaret had been her only real friend. Hands shaking with frustration, and holding back tears, Hermione stood up and put on her helmet. Then she grabbed the handles of her bike, and began to walk away, not looking at Margaret.
Attempting to sound casual, and superior, Hermione said, "Whatever, you two are a couple of ignorant muggles."
Hermione hadn't thought about the words before they came out. Chelsea, who did not know the word 'muggle', and who might not have understood the word 'ignorant' either, responded with anger.
"Oi, you little freak, what did you call me?" she shouted at Hermione, who continued to walk away, wheeling her bike alongside her.
Hermione smiled, feeling smug. Then a green lighter flew past her head, only missing by a few inches. She quickly hopped back on her bike and peddled as fast as her legs could manage. She sped past Mr. Abidi's store, gaining speed. It was another ten minutes before Hermione stopped, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. She took off her helmet and let her bike drop onto a stretch of grass next to the sidewalk. As she sat and caught her breath, her emotions began to settle down, and the one that remained was shame. The way Hermione had said the word 'muggle', it wasn't that different from the way Patricia Boot had said 'mud-blood'.
Hermione sat and berated herself for treating Margaret and Chelsea like that, even if they'd deserved it a little. She rode the rest of the way home and locked her bike up before checking to see if either of her parents were around. Luckily, neither was home on a lunch break, because Hermione still needed to solve the problem of her trunk being full of robes, spellbooks, and a cauldron.
After locking her bedroom door. Hermione retrieved her wand and began to scan through 'Standard Book of Spells'. She found what she was looking for after just a few minutes, but it took her most of the afternoon to achieve the desired effect.
Her tongue felt heavy from saying, "Disfarce!" over a thousand times. Her wrist and shoulder hurt from the hours repeating the awkward wand motion depicted in the book. In the end, Hermione decided the effort had been worth it.
Her trunk now appeared to be full of skirts, blouses, socks, cardigans, and other clothes that all bore the Hogwarts' coat of arms. It also looked as though the trunk contained a cassette tape player, a calculator, and a few textbooks. The visible book titles did not mention transfiguration or potions. Instead, they appeared to be for statistics, Latin, and geology. The spell wouldn't work on objects taken out of the trunk, but to the casual observer, it seemed like the possessions of any typical girl going off to private school.
A tapping came from Hermione's window, and she saw a screech owl perched outside with a small scroll tied to its leg. On a different day, this sight might have filled her with wonder, but she was too physically, and mentally drained to respond with more than a look of mild surprise. Hermione walked over, opened the window, and took the small scroll off the fluffy, brown owl.
Dear Ms. Granger,
We have received intelligence that an illusion charm was repeatedly used at your place of residence this afternoon between twelve-fifteen and four-thirty-four.
Due to your parentage, you may be unaware that underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school. Be advised that further spellwork on your part could lead to expulsion from said school (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C).
You should also be aware that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles), is a serious offense under section thirteen of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy.
Mafalda Hopkirk
Improper Use of Magic Office
Ministry of Magic
Hermione set the letter aside and rubbed at her eyes. Her bedside clock showed it was five-thirty, but Hermione felt as though she could curl up and sleep through the night. Instead, she forced herself to get up, grab the broom, and head outside to sweep the patio as her mother had requested.
As she swept, Hermione tried to sort through her thoughts. The last two days had been the most baffling, and overwhelming forty-eight hours of Hermione's young life. When she first received her letter from Hogwarts, she wouldn't have thought anything would stop her from attending, but then she met Patricia Boot and read about the vile prejudices of Salazar Slytherin. If Margaret had listened to her whole story, Hermione might have talked herself out of going. But, the term 'mud-blood', while hateful, did not seem to hurt as much as the childish insult of 'weirdo'.
Hermione knew she was being irrational, but her resolve to attend Hogwarts strengthened every time she thought of Chelsea and Margaret's mocking laughter. By the time she finished sweeping, Hermione had made a final decision, she would attend Hogwarts.
"That gives me two weeks to read all of my course books." Hermione muttered to herself as she put the broom back in the kitchen closet, "If I'm going to prove them wrong about muggle-borns I'll need to learn as much as I can before the school year starts."
When she returned to her room, Hermione put 'Hogwarts a History' back in her trunk and pulled out, 'A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration'. She could read for pleasure later, for now, it was time to study.