Chapter 1
Muggle-born
Theodore Granger and Lucille Davies met on a warm summer night, near the campus of Glasgow University. Their first date was an unremarkable, unromantic story, involving a local pub, too many drinks, and a shared passion for dental hygiene. When they graduated the next spring, neither was top of their class, nor were they the worst students in their year. Both could best be described as average.
Not long after graduating they were married, and then Mr. and Mrs. Granger purchased a cheap house in a boring neighborhood, two hours outside London. They opened a dental clinic, and after getting some steady clientele, they decided it was time to have a child.
Less than a year later Mrs. Granger gave birth to a baby girl. They named her Hermione, after Mr. Granger's grandmother. It took less than a year for them to realize their daughter was incredibly remarkable and intellectually gifted. She said her first word, 'why', at only seven months old, and before her first birthday, she was speaking in complete sentences. She began asking endless questions not long after, and her parents did their best to answer her many inquiries about the world around her. Hermione absorbed new words, and facts into her vocabulary like a sponge, and before long, her questions became more difficult for her parents to answer adequately.
Forced to track down information such as, how fast a storm can cross the ocean, why the sky is blue, how many years an elephant can live, and how many different species of spiders crawled the earth, Mr. and Mrs. Granger began making trips to the local library on the weekends.
Before she turned four, Hermione learned to read. From then on, the majority of her time was spent with her nose buried in a book. Once her parents brought her to the library for the first time, it became her favorite place in the world. Other children begged their parents for treats or trips to the park. Hermione just wanted to spend the day wandering the shelves, looking for books to check out. The librarians, who found the little genius intriguing, came to know her by name, and helped her find books that could satisfy her thirst for knowledge.
When she began attending school, Hermione was friendly to other children, but she never had many friends. Hermione loved facts, math puzzles, and reading, but she did not watch television, own any video games, nor did she care for football. None of this endeared her to her peers, and beyond that, strange things seemed to happen around Hermione.
At her seventh birthday party, one of the neighborhood children her parents had invited accidentally knocked over her cake. Hermione tried to shout angrily at him, but when she opened her mouth, no words came out. Instead, a wailing pitch like a hot kettle emanated from her. As the volume of the strange sound grew, the water pitcher on the table began to boil. Her parents had been inside when this happened, and they dismissed the hysterical children's story as a ridiculous attempt to distract from the ruined sugar-free cake lying smashed on the patio floor.
Hermione's first real friend was a girl in her grade named Margaret. A very shy child, Margaret enjoyed drawing elaborate scenes with castles, dragons, and unicorns. She had curly brown hair and was shorter than most girls her age. Unlike Hermione, who had moved on to books about history or science, Margaret preferred fantasy novels.
They first met in grade two, on a snowy afternoon. Margaret was playing in the snow after school when she saw Hermione trying to get her scarf out of a tree. A girl in grade three had thrown it up into the branches after Hermione corrected her grammar.
The older girls had been teasing her relentlessly for months. Hermione had lost her two front teeth that summer, and when her adult incisors grew in, they turned out to be quite a bit larger than average. This, mixed with her bushy brown hair, ended up making Hermione look a bit squirrel-like, her mother sometimes called her 'my sweet squirrel'. Naturally, her classmates had come to the same conclusion, especially those who were jealous or confused by the well-spoken seven-year-old that acted more like their teachers than a peer. The older girls began to put Hermione's things on high fences or in tree branches so they could "see the squirrel climb".
On that snowy day, Margaret saw something unexplainable happen. As Hermione stretched her little arm out in a hopeless effort to reach the scarf, her fingers began to lengthen. They grew until they were longer than Hermione's arm. With her branch-like fingers, Hermione managed to grab the scarf, and her hand shrunk back to normal. After witnessing this extraordinary event, Margaret overcame her shyness and introduced herself. After that, Margaret began to sit with Hermione during lunch hour. She showed Hermione her drawings of magical lands and told her about her Aunt Libby, who had taught Margaret a little about Wiccan practices. Margaret explained that there were lots of people who called themselves witches in England, and maybe Hermione and her were witches too.
Hermione didn't know how she had reached her scarf that day, or how she'd boiled the water on her birthday, but she figured it wasn't magic. Her parents were very scientific-minded and they had raised Hermione to view mysticism and magic as something to be disproven. Despite that, she was very happy to have a friend.
The rest of primary school went as well as it could for Hermione and Margaret. They were rarely invited to play with the other children and sometimes they were picked on, but they had each other. They spent afternoons and weekends reading together, playing at the parks, making up stories, floating paper boats in the canals, and occasionally trying to do magic. Hermione discovered she could move very small objects by focusing on them intensely. Margaret also claimed she could move objects, but the only things she seemed to be capable of moving were fallen leaves and candy wrappers, and only when they were outside.
The friendship of the two stayed strong until the last day of grade five. Hermione and the other students in her class were having a pizza party to celebrate the end of the year. During the party, their teacher asked the class what school they'd be attending in the fall.
When it was Margaret's turn to speak she looked at the floor and quietly said, "Saint Mary's School for Girls."
Hermione turned to stare at Margaret. Until that moment Hermione had been certain that Margaret, like herself, would be attending the local public school for grades six through twelve. They had never discussed it directly, but Hermione had brought it up dozens of times that spring when speculating about what they would be learning in grade six.
After school, Hermione caught up with Margaret as they left through the front doors of the building.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Hermione asked in a hurt voice.
Margaret didn't answer until they reached the sidewalk, then she said, "My mum just told me, my grandfather is paying for me to go. He says he doesn't want me to end up like my mum."
"Is it expensive then?" Hermione asked gingerly, she knew Margaret's parents did not have a lot of money. Her mother drank too much and her dad was only around every few months. Margaret had told her that her grandfather was the son of a Duke and that he paid for their flat most months.
"Yeah, it's like thousands of pounds a year… I'm sorry I didn't tell you." Margaret had tears in her eyes as she looked at Hermione.
Hermione stopped walking and pulled Margaret into a hug saying, "Don't cry, Marg! Maybe I could go too. I'll have to ask my parents…" Hermione trailed off. Her parents were both dentists and made decent money, but they weren't rich.
They stopped at a corner shop near Margaret's flat to buy some biscuits. Mr. Abidi was working behind the counter today, he was originally from Pakistan, and he had a son who was a year younger than the girls named David. David went to their school and they had been coming to Mr. Abidi's shop for snacks since grade three.
He took one look at their faces and asked, "What is wrong girls?"
Margaret blubbered a bit as she explained that she and Hermione might not go to the same school next year.
As he rang up their chocolate biscuits Mr. Abidi said, "I can't help with that, but take extra treat, ok? Enjoy first day of summer." He put a bottle of soda and some gummy candies in their bag before handing over their change.
"T-t-hanks Mr. Abidi," Margaret said in a wavering voice.
They took their treats and walked to a small park near some council flats. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes as they munched on their biscuits and shared the cherry soda. After a large sip, Margaret let out an impressive belch. Margaret blushed, and then both girls started giggling. The giggles built into hysterical laughter and for a minute, they forgot their sadness. After the snacks were gone, and Hermione had given Margaret another hug, they both headed home.
Her parents had made Hermione's favorite green curry for dinner, but Hermione just pushed rice around her plate until her father asked if she wasn't hungry.
Before she could answer, her mother jumped in, "I bet she spoiled her appetite eating sugary junk with Margaret."
Hermione glared at her mother and said, "No, I'm just sad."
Neither of her parents spoke, they just looked at Hermione expectantly. Hermione squirmed in her seat until the silence became too uncomfortable.
Finally, she blurted out, "Margaret is going to Saint Mary's next year and I'll be all by myself and I'll have no friends."
Her father seemed to resist rolling his eyes before responding, "Honey, this is normal. I know it's sad to imagine school without your best friend, but you'll meet new people and find a new best friend."
Fresh tears began running down Hermione's cheeks as she wailed, "I don't want to meet new people. I want to go to Saint Mary's with Margaret!"
Her mother gave her a sympathetic look, patted her arm, and said, "that school is very expensive Hermione, your father and I have invested in a lot of new equipment for the clinic and…"
She trailed off, but Hermione understood. Her parents weren't going to send her to Saint Mary's.
Distraught, Hermione spent the next few weeks in her room reading. She left only for meals and to ride her bike to the library. Margaret had come by to visit a few times, but Hermione found it difficult to enjoy her company, knowing their time together would end in just over a month. It didn't help that when Margaret did come by, her new school was all she wanted to discuss. She showed Hermione her new uniforms one afternoon, and she seemed disappointed that Hermione showed no interest. As the days drew closer to the start of the school year, Hermione grew more and more sullen, and she spent less and less time with Margaret.
One morning at breakfast, Hermione sat eating buttered toast with an open book leaning against the pitcher of orange juice in front of her. Hermione was completely immersed in the story, it was a new book by Carl Sagan, titled 'Contact'. It was about humans interacting with a technologically superior society, and it made Hermione wish she could go through a wormhole and study science in some distant part of the universe.
The book snapped shut, and Hermione looked up to scowl at her mother.
"Hey!" Hermione complained, "I want to finish this by tomorrow before I have to return it to the library!"
Her mother gave her a stern look, "I already said your name three times, there's an odd letter for you, here."
Her mother handed her a thick envelope sealed with wax. It was addressed to 'Ms. Hermione Granger' and there was a coat of arms with a badger, an eagle, a lion, and a snake. Confused, Hermione opened the envelope and began reading.
Dear Ms. Granger,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than August 15.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall Deputy Headmistress
"What is it Hermione?" her father asked leaning in his chair to get a better look.
"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? What on earth?" He pulled the cover letter from Hermione's hands and passed it to her mother.
While they read it, Hermione looked at the other pieces of paper in the envelope. One appeared to be a list of school supplies.
UNIFORM First-year students will require: sets of plain work robes (black) plain pointed hat (black) for day wear pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar) winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings) Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.
COURSE BOOKS All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad.
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK
The final paper was a longer letter from the same McGonagall woman. Hermione read it quickly, her confusion giving way to amazement.
Dear Ms. Granger,
This additional letter has been included due to your uncommon circumstance. There is a population of magical people (commonly referred to as witches or wizards) of which the non-magical society (commonly referred to as muggles) is completely unaware. Generally, magical talent is passed down through family lines, but an extremely small percentage of witches and wizards are spontaneously born to muggle parents. We refer to these people as muggle-born. You have been identified as a muggle-born witch. As such, you are invited to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
This letter may come as a shock to you and your parents but, we have detected your repeated uses of magic over the years. These unintentional uses of magic may have seemed like strange accidents, tricks of the light, or youthful imagination, but they were a form of instinctual magic.
Our current headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, established a scholarship for muggle-born students like yourself, so no tuition will be due for your first year at Hogwarts.
In wizarding society, owls are generally used for delivering mail. Because you come from a muggle family we understand you will not have access to an owl. Instead, please send your acceptance letter to 3A Abbey Orchard Street, Westminster, London.
Yours sincerely,
-Minerva McGonagall Deputy Headmistress
"It must be a joke or maybe an elaborate advertisement for some kind of magician camp," her father was saying, "Hermione, did you sign up for a newsletter or sign a petition or something? It's not wise to put your address down like that."
Hermione didn't know what to say. How would the letter know about the strange things she'd done, could this be real?
"Don't look so worried," her mother said comfortingly, "this seems harmless enough, though why they'd waste good stationery on a joke like this is beyond me."
Silently, Hermione handed over the final paper. Her parents read it and then looked at Hermione, who had gone white.
"Why do you look so scared?" her mother asked.
Hermione hesitated before she said, "I think I've done magic before."
Over the next half an hour, Hermione reminded her parents about the boiling water incident, told them about her elongating fingers, and even showed them her power at moving objects by levitating a spoon and turning off a light switch in the next room. Despite this, her parents didn't seem to believe her.
"Did you learn some tricks at school or something?" her father asked, pacing back and forth in front of Hermione who sat on the living room couch. "I don't know how you lifted the spoon without a wire or anything, but I've seen street magicians in London, and I even saw a magic show in Vegas when I was abroad. I don't like that someone knows our address though and that a stranger is writing to our daughter, what if it's a pedo?"
"Maybe we should go check out this address Theodore," her mother suggested, "Maybe we can get to the bottom of this. I still think Hermione must have signed up for a magic camp without asking and now she's too embarrassed to admit it."
"I'm telling the truth!" Hermione shouted, "I didn't put our address down on anything and I really can do magic! It's not a trick." She took a deep breath and tried to calm down, "I think you're right though mum, we should go to that address. If Hogwarts is real I want to go there next year."
Her father stopped pacing and let out a long sigh. After a pause, he said, "Fine, we'll go. We'll have to wait until the weekend when neither of us has patients. Lucy, don't you have someone scheduled on Saturday?"
"I do," Hermione's mother replied, "the Donavon's, their son needs a root canal."
"Fine," her father said again, though his expression made it clear it was not fine, "we'll go on Sunday. It's late Hermione, go to bed. Oh, and if this is all a joke, or you're not telling us something, please let me know before we waste our weekend driving to London.
As Hermione left the room she heard her father complaining about gas prices. She made her way upstairs to her room and collapsed on the bed. She had grabbed the letter from the kitchen table and reread it at least a dozen times before falling asleep.
When Sunday finally arrived, Hermione could hardly contain her excitement. Her parents, on the other hand, did not seem very pleased as they made their way to London. An hour into the journey, Hermione fell asleep. She awoke to her father furiously swearing and honking his horn. Hermione rubbed the sleep from her eyes and looked out the window. They were deep in London and her father hated driving in the city. He used a few more choice words and a liberal amount of honking before they managed to find a parking garage. They walked a few blocks before they found the street sign for Abbey Orchard.
Hermione ran ahead until she passed number four and came to a halt in front of an unremarkable parking garage, no different than the one they had left their car in. Hermione couldn't believe it. She pulled out the letter and checked the address again. Number 3A Abbey Orchard St. Westminster, London.
"The next building is number two," Hermione thought, "So this must be number three. Where's 3A?"
She checked but there did not seem to be any other businesses or offices besides the garage.
"Well then, I'm so glad we came to London," her father said dryly as they caught up with Hermione, "And look! This garage is two pounds less per hour than the one we parked in, perfect."
Still determined to find something, Hermione ducked under the yellow barrier and entered the parking garage. Her parents shouted at her to stop but she kept walking. The cement floor was patterned with tire tracks of different varieties and the cement structure smelled of grease and gas fumes. As she reached a downward ramp, Hermione noticed a small green door on the wall to her left. She approached it, and was able to read the words printed on the door's small opaque window, 'Muggle Liaison Office, Appointments only.'
Hermione paused and realized she could hear her parents arguing at the end of the cement tunnel, "Just let her. The sooner she realizes this is all nonsense the better!"
"Maybe she needs to see a therapist," her mother suggested, "She could just be acting out because of her little friend going to a different school, but this isn't healthy Theodore."
Not wanting to hear more, Hermione knocked loudly on the green door. No one answered. Hermione knocked again, but still, nothing. Annoyed, she reached for the doorknob and was startled to realize the door had no handle or lock, just a slot to push mail through. Hermione pounded her knuckles against the door so hard it left her hand stinging. Still nothing.
Hermione stared at the word 'muggle' on the door in front of her. Obviously, there was a connection to the letter she had received.
A thought struck her. "What if it's a magical door? Do I need to use magic to open it? No doorknob…"
She concentrated on the spot where the doorknob should be and focused. The door remained stubbornly unchanged and even worse, She heard footsteps approaching.
Hermione turned back to the door, determined to open it before her parents could drag her off, Hermione focused, willing with all her might for a knob to appear. Despite trying to make it happen, Hermione was stunned when a brass doorknob grew out of a crack in the paint like an inflating balloon.
"Hermione," her mother called, "come on, if we get back to the car soon we'll only have to pay for an hour."
Only hesitating for a second, Hermione seized the knob, opened the door, and stepped inside.
