Sept. 19th, 1981

"Hellooo, where's my pretty baby?" Enid Granger closed the front door behind her, and squatted down, opening her arms wide. "Baby, come to Granny!"

The living room door opened slowly, and Hermione poked her head out.

"Please, don't call me baby," she said in a loud clear voice; then she came forward and allowed herself to be hugged by her grandmother, who was somewhat taken aback at this reception.

"Dear me, sweetie, how you talk," she muttered, more to herself.

"And I don't like 'sweetie' either, Granny," Hermione insisted, but softening her stern statement by giving her grandmother a stunning smile.

"Oh dear," Mrs. Granger sighed, "but 'Hermione' sounds so formal ..."

"You may say 'Hermy' ", another smile flashed across her face, and now she hugged her grandmother back.

"Hi Mum, didn't hear you come in." George appeared from the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up, and wearing an apron. "Be ready in a minute. You know, Prue is still with a patient in the surgery, so it's my task to see to the cake, and everything. I'm hopeless with cakes, really, but she said all I had to do was put it in the oven and ... " he sniffed, "I say, how do you know when ... good heavens!"

There was no mistaking the smell of burnt cake now, and all three rushed into the kitchen, where blueish-grey smoke was streaming from the oven.

"I KNEW it!", George shouted. He grabbed the handle of the oven, and jumped back with a yell, shaking his burned fingers. "Get out of the way!" he bellowed at Hermione, who was standing quietly in the middle of the kitchen, her large brown eyes earnestly fixed on the oven. Finally he found a towel and managed to open the oven and take out the cake.

"Sorry for shouting at you," he said to his daughter, I was a bit nervous."

"That's ok, Daddy," Hermione replied looking up at him, "I know you didn't mean it."

"Now let's see about this cake," Mrs. Granger said resolutely. "From the smell I suppose not even the birds ... Well, I never ... !"

"What is it, Mum?"

"Just look at this! This cake's as good as new! Looks exactly as it ought to, this cake hasn't been in the oven a single minute too long or too short! I don't understand it. There's still all that  smoke and smell in here, where does it come from? It's like magic!"

Hermione smiled quietly but did not say anything.

*

"Thanks a lot, this was delicious," Zoe said, greedily polishing the last crumbs of birthday cake from her plate. "And to think my big brother almost got this lovely cake burnt ... " she winked at George, who pulled a face at her.

"Yes, if I'd not seen it with my own eyes," Mrs. Granger remarked, "and, what is more, smelled it, I'd have thought it was a joke. But no matter, stranger things have happened ... Now let's just clear the table and get all these things backinto the kitchen. " And she got up and started gathering cups and plate together.

"I'll help you, Granny!"

Hermione jumped down from her high chair, grabbing her plate, saucer and cup and cutlery .

"Careful, dear, you'll drop them," her aunt admonished, and tried to stop her and take the things anway from her.

But Hermione adroitly ducked away under her outstretched arm, grinned at her, and danced away towards the hall, singing:

            Chip the glasses and crack the plates!

            Blunt the knives and bend the forks!

            That's what Auntie Zoe hates –

And she disappeared through the living room door.

"What's that?" Zoe stared at the door, flabbergasted.

"Oh, that," Prudence was trying hard not to laugh too openly, but with little success. "That's one of her favourites, she often sings it when she helps clear the table. - Only I've never heard her sing this last line before ... she must have made it up right now, how clever of her!"

"Well, I'd call it cheeky," her sister in law muttered. "Anyway, where did she get it from? She can't have made it up all by herself."

"Of course not, it's from  ... "

But Zoe had already lost interest.

"Well, I thought she must have picked it up somewhere, amazing how parrot-like small children are, don't you think?"

"If you say so ..." Prudence refrained from an answer. "Pity you couldn't bring Arlene and Frederick," she continued in an effort to change the topic.

Zoe, who always loved to talk about her own children, rather than anybody else's,  snatched the new topic up eagerly. "Yes, they would have loved to come, but Arlene's got a part in her school's Christmas play – "

"Let me guess," Prue interrupted, "she's playing Wendy – " she grinned at her husband.

"How did you – well, anyway, they'll have their performance in three months, and she's got to work on her text, you know how ambitious she is ... And of course, Frederick didn't want to leave his big sister, he's such a loving brother ... But we hope we'll be able to meet at Christmas – you'll all have to come to see the play of course, Arlene would be soo disappointed..."

"Yes, of course we will," George assured his sister in what his wife always called his dentist's voice (the sort of voice he used for hysterical patients when he wanted to persuade them to open their mouths for the anaesthetic injection). "You can never see Peter Pan too often," he added earnestly, giving Pru a look that nearly dissolved her in giggles, "it's always amazing what school kids can do with it … "

"Yes, I'm sure Arlene will be an absolutely perfect Wendy, she's so proud she got chosen for the part …" irony was so alien to Zoe that she completely failed to detect it in others, "and I'll be making the most wonderful costumes for her. Well, I'm afraid I'll have to be on my way … Oh,"she added as she got up from the table and reached for her bag, "here I almost forgot my birthday present, now isn't this just like me? ("It is," Pru muttered under her breath.) Now where is she? Sweetie-baby!" she started yelling, "Auntie's got a present for you!!!"

Hermione's head appeared in the door. She gave her parents a quick look, grinned at them, shrugged and went over to Zoe, who had fished out a violently pink parcel with a violet ribbon out of her bag.

"Here, darling," she said brightly, "I hear you are very interested in books, so here is a very nice one for you, Frederick is very fond of it, but then he's a year older than you, so perhaps it is still too difficult for you. But there are many pictures in it, too, and your mummy can always read it to you, can't she?"

"Thank you, Auntie Zoe," Hermione said in her most babyish voice, which made her parents look at each other, trying hard not to laugh, curtsied and took the parcel.

"Aren't you charming," Zoe smiled and made to pat her niece's head; but Hermione  grabbed the present, ducked away and rushed out of the living room.

"I'm sorry," Prudence, who had watched the scene with great amusement, pretended to apologize, "whenever she gets a book, she always behaves like that. She takes it to her room at once and looks at it where nobody can see her. But if it's a book, I'm sure she'll love it."

"Yes I know lots of kids who love it, so she is bound to, too. But now I really must rush – "

*

When her Aunt and her Grandmother had left, Hermione appeared in the living room, carrying a book in her hands.

"This is not a book," she complained after climbing into her father's lap. "Look, it's made of cardboard, fourteen flaps only, and there are hardly any words, only pictures … "

"Let me see, dear," George said and took the book from her.

"It's all about some animals going on board a ship and behaving like people," Hermione went on pointing at one of the pictures. "Animals don't brush their teeth, do they, Daddy?"

"They may do in books," George tried to argue, but she cut him short:

"But they don't really! How can a hippo even HOLD a toothbrush?"

"Yes, you are right of course," George admitted.

"And what are the words here?" Hermione asked pointing at the meagre six lines below the large picture.

            "With some on top

            and some beneath

            they brush

            and brush

            and brush

            their teeth."

"How boring," Hermione observed disappointedly. "Everybody has some upper and lower teeth, and you can SEE they are brushing their teeth in the picture, so what's the use?"

George had to admit that he could not contradict her.

"Aunt Zoe thinks I'm a baby," Hermione remarked with a frown, and put the book down. "She even thinks this 'book' – " she looked at it disdainfully, "is too difficult for me!"

"No, dear," her mother interrupted, "she just doesn't know how smart you are; I'm sure she meant it kindly. Remember how she said Frederick loves it. And he's a year older than you!"

"And he STILL likes such books?" Hermione seemed incredulous, but did not enlarge on her cousin's mental capabilities. "Mum, this Wendy that Arlene is going to play, what is it?"

"It's a part in Peter Pan," George started to explain, "and it's performed as a Christmas play in many schools every year."

"Why? Everybody knows it already, right?"

The question had never occurred to George, he had always taken it for granted like a law of nature. "I've no idea," he admitted. "never thought about it … "

"It's all about a magic country where these children go and have adventures … " Prudence added. "And there's this fairy called Tinkerbelle, and it seems she's dying, and all the audience must shout and clap for her to get alive again, … it's a very impressive scene … mysteries need people to believe in them or they die … "

"Did you play Tinkerbelle when you were young, Mum?"

"Yes, dear," Prudence said dreamily, "how did you guess?"

"Easy to guess, darling," George smiled at her. "The feeling you put in that memory … "

"Anyway," his wife continued, "this Wendy character is quite the opposite of Tinkerbelle, she is the eldest sister of all those kids, and she's been trained to be the little mother for all of them and … "

"And she has to stay at home all the time and do the cooking and washing, while the boys go out and have adventures?"

"How smart you are! Yes this is exactly the idea – and this is why I was so sure Arlene would play her …"

"Come, you've always got it in for poor Zoe," George protested, but not quite seriously, "I'm sure she thinks Wendy's the most important part, and a model for all girls!"

"Of course she does, that's the terrible thing!"

"Is there a happy end of the story?" Hermione inquired.

"Hm, depends on what you call a happy end. All those kids get back home, - and take some more who have lost their parents, too – and live happily ever after with their family."

"And Tinkerbelle?"

"I'm afraid she stays in the magic country and they never see her again."

"But Mum, this is a very sad end! AND Wendy is going to have a boring life ever after, too! It's just not fair!"

"Of course it isn't, dear, but I suppose this is what growing up is all about … "

"Then I never want to grow up!"

*

"Good; they'll all be asleep by now," Dumbledore muttered, looking at the big clock in his office. "Now let's set the somnoscope …"

"Are you going to interfere with Muggle dreams again?" Minerva McGonagall inquired, not hiding her disapproval.

"Obviously," Dumbledore replied dryly. "It's her second birthday, and I've never   entered any of her father's dreams yet. I believe after the birthday party he'll be in a sufficiently impressionable state of mind. Let's see …"

He turned a few knobs and pressed some buttons on the device that was sitting on his desk.

"Yes, the main ideas are about his daughter and his wife, and – funny – the idea of not growing up … wonder how … oh, I see, should have guessed … well, Dr. Granger, here's a pretty dream for you …"

*

He was on a motor bike, roaring through the night. Everything was dark, just a few stars, and a bright moon. Looking down he suddenly noticed he was not on any road but up in the air. He was only mildly surprised, however, there did not seem anything particularly strange about the fact. There seemed to be water below him, and the machine was slowly going down to the surface. In front of him, perched atop a high mountain, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers. Without any action of his own, the machine came to a halt on the bank of the water, just in front of the enormous castle doors.

A veiled female figure was standing in front of the door. She shone with a bright light, and the long dress floating in a soft breeze, iridescent in the moonlight. She beckoned to him to get down from his machine and pointed at the doors.

He noticed that the machine had disappeared, but, as often happens in dreams, he was not surprised and approached the veiled woman. Again, he was not surprised when the veil vanished and he could recognise his wife smiling at him. At a gesture of her hand, the large oaken doors opened, and blinding light fell on the stairs.

In a floating sensation he moved towards the light until he was inside the castle. Silently, the huge doors closed, the light vanished, and he found himself in complete darkness. But then a tiny spark appeared in what seemed to be infinity, and slowly came nearer. First it was an only vaguely human form, but gradually he could make out that it was the veiled woman again. However, when he could see her more clearly, he realised that the was the same yet different, and finally, although he could not have said how he knew it because the veil never disappeared, he knew that this must be his daughter Hermione. "Daddy – " he heard her say…

"Daddy, can I have a glass of water?"

He woke up with a start.

*

"Why the motor bike?" Dumbledore demanded, his twinkling eyes belying his strict tone.

"Well, I just thought it was a nice touch," Minerva replied smugly, sounding very pleased with herself. "After all, men do love motor bikes, don't they? And it's not just a Muggle thing … "

"Oh. Minerva," Dumbledore chuckled, "do I detect a new vein of irony in you? Yes, it was a nice touch, I agree."

"But what was the point of it all?"

"Come, you certainly can work it out yourself: He comes to Hogwarts, sees his wife there in her Tinkerbelle outfit, then he goes in, and there he meets his daughter in the same costume, isn't it obvious?"

"Hm, yes, the way you put it … Wonder whether he will also understand it."