Hello everyone! Thanks for waiting patiently, here is the next part, in which Hermione finally meets up with the magical world.
Dec. 19th, 1981
"But I don't want to wear the blue dress, mum!" Hermione protested. "It- it makes me feel so silly!"
"But you look so pretty in it," her mother tried to convince her.
"And you want to show off to Zoe, admit it," George added grinning at her.
"You beast! – Yes, you're right, and I'm not even sorry. Honestly, the way she's always talking! Arlene this and Arlene that – you'd think she was the wonder child of the twentieth century! Please, honey," she turned to her daughter coaxingly, "please do it for me, ..."
"All right, mummy," Hermione agreed, "but I want to wear my necklace, too."
*
"I'm afraid you ARE a bit late," Zoe said as soon as the Grangers had entered her house. "We'll have to be at the school in two hours, and there's still so much that needs to be done ..."
"I thought you said four o'clock," George remarked, with a pointed look at the clock, which showed half past three.
His look went completely unnoticed.
"Whatever," his sister muttered. "Come on in."
The first impression on entering the living room was one of a dressmaker's shop. Various dresses and costumes were scattered on most of the furniture, there were pieces of fabric on the floor and a sewing machine was sitting on the dinner table.
Arlene was standing on a chair wearing a dress in what her mother obviously believed was turn of the century style. Arlene was a skinny girl, rather tall for her seven years. Her mousy hair was done up in an elaborate way, with an enormous pink bow in it. Her face was flushed, and she kept moving her lips silently.
"Doesn't she look great?" Zoe said proudly. "Took me ages to get that dress finished, but it's been worth it, don't you think?"
The Grangers made indistinct noises that might or might not have been agreement.
"Honey, you can get down that chair now, and take your dress off," Zoe told her daughter. "Oh, and darling, WILL you be careful with your hair? It's been such trouble fixing it."
Arlene climbed down the chair and started fumbling with her dress.
"Here, let me help you," Prudence said and intervened just in time before something started to tear. "It is a bit complicated to get at that zipper in the back."
Finally, Arlene had been relieved of her costume, and was wearing a pair of jeans again.
"Fine," Zoe sighed. "That's taken care of. You'll be the best Wendy that has ever appeared on stage, mark my words."
Arlene had already gone over to a large armchair in the corner, flopped down in it and grabbed a small booklet. She started to turn its pages nervously, her lips still moving silently all the time.
Hermione walked over to her cousin. She put her chin on the armrest of the chair, and looked at Arlene earnestly.
"Don't worry, you can do it," she whispered, laying a small hand on the other girl's arm. "No need to be scared."
"What?"Arlene started and looked at her in surprise. But then her tensed up face relaxed visibly. "Thanks," she said softly, and gave a tiny smile.
*
The school auditorium was packed.
"I've got seats reserved for all of us," Zoe panted, when they entered. "It's a good thing to be the mother of the star. Now just sit down here – " she pointed at several chairs in the front row, "while I take Arlene backstage. Won't be a minute."
She grabbed her daughter's hand, and dragged her behind the curtain.
"Poor girl," Prudence said sympathetically, "she's frightened she'll do something wrong, so it's almost inevitable."
"Yes," George agreed, "Zoe doesn't really know what she's doing to her – hey, stop it!"
Frederick had climbed up on the chair next to Hermione and started to jump up and down pulling faces at her. The chair was wobbling dangerously.
"Stop it!" George repeated, trying to reach out to steady the chair.
Too late! The chair toppled, Frederick landed on his bottom with a dull thud, and the chair hit him in the head. Frederick let out a howl that made all the people in the auditorium hold their breath. Prudence jumped from her seat and picked him up, trying to comfort him. Luckily, at this moment, Zoe reappeared to take matters in her own hands, and indeed the boy stopped wailing almost immediately.
"Hush – it's starting" Zoe said.
The lights were dimmed, and the curtain went up. A stocky boy in brown tights and a short green tunic ("Robin Hood?", Prudence wondered) jumped onto the stage rather heavily.
"How's he ever going to win the sword fight against Hook?", Prudence whispered.
"Don't worry, he will," George replied sarcastically. "I suppose he was the one who could remember his lines best. But here's Wendy."
And indeed, Arlene, in a frilly white nightgown that made her hairdo look somewhat out of place, was rising from a bed and said, her voice clear and calm, "Boy, why are you crying?"
"Oh good," Prudence said to herself, "she seems to have overcome her nervousness."
And when Arlene without hesitation managed to say, "My name's Wendy Moira Angela Darling," her aunt was quite confident she would manage her part satisfactorily.
In due course Wendy and her brothers went to Neverland, and Wendy (now in the costume which she had been trying on earlier) took up her role as a mother to all the lost children, darning their clothes, telling them stories and cooking for them.
"I must say, they're spoiling it somewhat," Prudence muttered to George."Having all these girls among Peter's gang. It destroys the psychological background."
"Come on, psychology's the last thing they'll worry about in a play like this," George replied. "They simply needed to find parts for all of their kids."
Presently, a sinister Captain Hook (an eight-year-old boy in black with a red baret and a make-up like a zombie), put the poison in the sleeping Peter's drink.
"Now's my favourite scene," Prudence whispered, excited in spite of herself, putting her hand on her daughter's arm.
Tinkerbelle, a tiny girl in a glittering leotard with small bells all over it that jingled at her every movement, had already drunk the poisoned drink and was fluttering more and more weakly.
"Tink, dear Tink, are you dying?"
Hermione held her breath and grabbed her mother's hand tightly.
"She could get well again if children believe in fairies!" Peter Pan shouted at the audience. "Say quick that you believe! If you believe, clap your hands!"
The audience complied, and Prudence found herself clapping away as hard as any of the small children.
*
"You were marvellous, darling," Zoe was in raptures. "Wasn't she?" she inquired from the Grangers. Without waiting for an answer, as she was positive of it anyway, she went on. "I did tell you, dear, didn't I, there was no need to get all worked up as long as you just learned your text well. And you didn't make a single mistake, - oh honey, I'm so proud of you. Not many girls your age could have done it, I'm sure, am I right, George?"
"I suppose so," George replied good-naturedly. "And it's true," he added to his niece, "You really didn't forget a single one of your lines."
"Yes, it took me ages," Arlene reminisced. "And I never thought I'd remember it all. Oh, I was so frightened, - but then Hermy said to me, 'you can do it', and suddenly I was not afraid any more. It was like magic! Thank you!" She hugged Hermione, who gave her a big happy smile.
*
"At least they cut that line about dying like English gentlemen," Prudence remarked, when they were on their way home in the car. "It's a horrible thing to say in any place, but it's absolutely disgusting in a children's play – as if any mother could ever wish for a thing like that! Hermy, dear, what did you think about it?"
"Wendy's silly," Hermione answered. "Darning the socks for those other kids – why doesn't she teach them to do it themselves? And doing Peter's spring cleaning, when he even doesn't care for her and only thinks of himself all the time But I love Tinkerbelle ... Will I ever see a fairy, mummie?" she added as an afterthought.
"Well, dear, I'm afraid they've been making themselves rather scarce recently – don't snigger," she said to George, who was making an effort to keep a straight face, "but in your dreams – yes I'm sure you will."
"But if I really really believe in them," Hermione persisted, "like Peter says ... can't I see a real fairy?"
"Real fairy indeed!" George chuckled but his wife stopped him.
"Who knows, dear? There are more things ... Very strange things happen all the time ... Just don't give up your belief. – And tell me if you do see one, will you?"
"Yes, mummie, I will," Hermione said very earnestly.
*
"Wonderful, wonderful," Dumbledore muttered looking at the somnoscope. "Really, if you didn't exist, we'd have to invent you," he continued, addressing a tall slim girl in silvery white robes who was standing next to his desk.
"I'm happy you realize that," she smirked, and her voice sounded like the tinkling of silver bells. "It' s not often a great wizard acknowledges that."
"I do admit that some wizards tend to look down on fairies a bit," Dumbledore conceded, "but you can't say I ever did, can you? In fact, I've always felt that you spirits of nature should be respected a good deal more. After all, you were there long before we arrived, and probably will be long after …"
"Unless muggles succeed in destroying this planet," the fairy interrupted.
"And it's not only muggles, I'm sorry to say – " Dumbledore reflected, "however, here's why I wanted your assistance … "
*
There was a soft tap on the window. Hermione, who had been dreaming about Peter Pan fighting Captain Hook by throwing red sparks at him, woke abruptly and sat up in her bed. There was a silver light dancing up and down in front of her window, and she could distinctly hear the tinkle of tiny bells. Her eyes wide, she silently crept out of bed and moved over to the window.
"Oh" she gasped.
The light radiated from a tiny but distinctly human figure, no larger than those Barbie dolls that her aunt Zoe had been giving her now and then (and that lay buried deep down in some drawer or other, never played with), and very much alive. The small person was gesturing to her, clearly wanting her to open the window.
Entranced, Hermione did so, and the mysterious creature at once slipped in and flew over to the bed, where it alighted. Only now that the visitor was still for some time could Hermione get a closer look: A slender, well proportioned girl in a shimmering silvery tunic with finely shaped features, loong wavy hair and – this was the most striking thing about her – transparent wings like a dragonfly's, that kept vibrating, causing them to glitter in iridescent colours of the rainbow.
"Tinkerbelle?" Hermione whispered breathlessly.
The sound of the tiny bells was like silvery laughter. Just when Hermione thought she would not be able to understand the fairy language, she could make out words that became constantly clearer the longer she listened.
"I have been given many names," the fairy was saying, "but you may call me by this one ..."
"Will you – will you take me with you?" Hermione's voice was wavering.
"Would you want to come?" the fairy asked with a sly smile.
"I – I don't know ... what about mum and dad?"
"Don't worry, I was only joking. No, we never TAKE anybody, no matter what stories those silly mug- I mean people keep telling about us. They all come along because they are eager to come. You are definitely not old enough, anyway, smart though you may be. But perhaps, some day ..."
"Why have you come?"
"Hmm, you so wanted to see a REAL fairy, didn't you –"
"How do you know?"
"Too complicated for now, although I suppose you'll find out some day - anyway, so I was sent – "
"Who sent you?"
"Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of our time – "
"A wizard?"
"Yes, a wizard, and believe me he's the best we've had for a few hundred years. Well, he thinks you should be helped to believe in magic and fantasy, don't ask me why, he seems to think you're something special ... So here I am ..."
"Oh, I knew you simply must be real, you're too beautiful to be only a dream! May I – may I touch you?" Timidly, Hermione stretched out her hand.
"I'd rather not, my wings are very fragile - but I can sit on your hand if you like, just to prove I am real," she continued and daintily stepped on to Hermione's hand.
"Is it true you live in flowers? You are too big, aren't you?"
"Dear me, no," the fairy pulled a face. "Really, all those stories they tell about us! It's our job to look after flowers, that's true, and we can make ourselves small enough, too, but we don't LIVE in flowers. Honestly, how inconvenient! We live in a world different from yours, and only when we choose to be visible some very special people can see us. And you seem to be one of these."
"Will I see you again?"
"I can't promise anything, but you will certainly be able to see many things that others can't see. And let me warn you: Be careful who you tell about what you see, most people will not believe it and get strange ideas about you ... But I have to be on my way now, so if you don't mind carrying me over to that window..."
Reluctantly, Hermione complied. The fairy, noticing her sad expression, said:
"Don't be too disappointed when everyone says you've just been dreaming, you may not be too sure about this yourself in a few days." She stepped lightly on the window ledge. "But I can do something for you, I think – stretch out your hand."
She made a sweeping gesture, and a small flower shimmering in the colours of the fairy's tunic appeared in Hermione's hand.
"Whenever you ask yourself if it has just been a dream, look at this flower, and you'll remember me. And who knows, perhaps we'll meet again ..."
There was a flutter of wings, a last tinkling of silver bells, and the fairy was gone. Hermione kept standing at the open window for a long time, the small flower in her hand, before she went back to bed.
***
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