(Once again, I do not own any characters. J. K. Rowling has never elaborated on Hermione's parents, so their characters may be different than what she may write them as in the future. Therefore, I hesitate to own them.)
Chapter Two: Unexpected Expectations
Five years ago, in the mid-hours of the morning, a girl with coppery brown hair woke up in her family's elegant Victorian house. Similar, yet worlds apart from the girl in Grimmauld Place, both in appearance and mannerisms, she stroked the yellow tabby that leapt up on her bed.
"Morning Abby," Hermione let the cat purr and rub against her. The old cat, bought when Hermione was two, lay down, dozing off in the sunlight. Hermione hopped out of bed, wondering if breakfast was ready, deciding she could use some eggs and waffles.
Walking down the oak staircase quietly in her shag slippers, the little girl in the cotton nightgown entered the spacious kitchen. Her parents adored the house, inheriting it from her grandfather, and they changed it as little as possible. However, the kitchen was gutted, and now, a meticulously white, clean kitchen, complete with marble countertops and modern muggle appliances, took its place.
"Mum, what's for breakfast?" Hermione asked and walked over to a drawer, pulling out three sets of silverware. She proceeded to properly set the table, even though it was a quaint family breakfast.
"Eggs, bacon, and scones," the thin, tall woman with the same hair as her little daughter leaned over the sterling stove. On her bony nose rested a tiny pair of rimless spectacles. Her eyes displayed precise intelligence, mimicked in her daughter. "Go fetch your father, Hermione."
The girl calmly walked to the study, where a man in his mid-forties leaned over a heaping pile of books and papers. His eyes perused a large stack of documents, while he scribbled away, already at work, even though it was a Saturday. He, too, wore a pair of spectacles, but only when he read in his study.
"Father, it's time for breakfast," the maturity of the eleven year old girl would have astounded anyone else. Her father, however, nodded, running his hand through his thinning, gray hair, and rose from his desk.
"How is my Hermione?" His voice conveyed a weary tenderness. The girl smiled, leading him into the kitchen.
"Fine," the girl said as she seated herselfas her mother placed breakfast in front of her. "I slept well, even though there was a storm last night."
"School is coming," Hermione commented, and her motherglanced up at her husband, smiling to his daughter's little comment.
"Hermione, where should we be sending her? The decision has to be made, Albert," Elise Granger stated, as if they'd drug their feet for a while on this topic.
"Elise, not now, I've got a whole several hours worth of finances to do," he said wearily and placed more bacon on his plate. "She's got tons of offers, and they'll take them for about another two weeks, and any school would be a fool not to let her in."
"You don't worry about her education enough," the woman's pale lips narrowed in response, her eyes narrowing slightly. Hermione watched, without missing a meaning ora look on her parent's features.
"I give her books, the girl reads newspapers, Elise, she's well informed," he reached for some more eggs, and poured himself a glass of orange juice. "Really, Hermione is fine, aren't you, dear?"
He smiled at his little daughter, and a look of complete adoration for her father beamed in her eyes.
"I want to stay close to you, Daddy."
"Please, Hermione," her mother sighed and threw her arms up in exasperation. "The best schools are in London, overseas! Stop this childish nonsense."
"She's eleven, Elise, don't forget," Albert turned towards his wife. "She's still only a child."
"It's time for her to go to a boarding school, like she should have done two years ago when her education reached this level," both of the Granger parents locked into a battle of stares and words.
"She needed to stay at home. It's not healthy to send children away at that age, even if they are two grades levels ahead," Albert Granger said shortly.
"Exactly, two grades levels ahead," the woman's eyes became narrower. "I let you hire the tutor for two years, Albert, but it's time she leaves! A decision must be reached!"
"Well, let Hermione decide." Albert Granger relaxed, answering like one who'd cornered an animal in a trap. Elise's eyes widened, her face contorted in anger for a second, and then, in a stiff mask of indifference.
"Okay, Hermione, what do you want?" She barely got the words out to the quiet girl, who'd stopped eating to watch her parents argue. They always fought about trifling things, but this was a rare occasion, to hear them argue over her, and in front of her.
"Can I decide in a few days, after I look through the letters again?" Hermione whispered, pleading with her mother. Elise sighed, nodding in submission, knowing her daughter's love for her father.
"Aye, that's a good girl," her father gave her the orange juice, but Hermione refused. "Elise, you should eat some more, you've hardly touched the food." His wife gave him an indignant smile, taking her plate over to the sink.
"I'll go to my room, to dress," Hermione said hastily and exited the room, reading the obvious anger in her mum's features. She feared her mother when her mood became irritable, when it wore at her father's nerves.
She jumped into the shower, and then blow-dried her hair into a frizzy mess, which bothered her, but she didn't have time to care about it. Pulling on a pair of jeans and a button-up shirt, Hermione brushed her teeth. Grabbing a pair of socks, she walked down to take Abby out.
She fed the cat, letting her roam out in their yard for a while. "Hermione, if that cat runs away while on a venture in the yard, don't say I never warned you," her mother's voice came from behind her. She started, running outside, leaving the door open, to catch Abby.
Reaching the end of their little paved driveway, she scoped up her old tabby. She headed back to the pale blue Victorian house with white trim, her mother waiting on the porch. "Here's the letters," she handed a bulging stack of acceptance letters to various prestigious academies to Hermione. "Read them."
She walked with heavy steps towards her room, knowing her mother's wish to send her away couldn't be postponed. Truly, it was all for education, but Hermione felt differently, even though she knew this. Her mother's wish seemed like pure hatred towards her only child, which made no sense, having no other children.
Stop this nonsense, Hermione told herself. She only wants what's best for you. But so did her dad. She gazed at the huge pile of papers, beginning to read each letter carefully. She paused, hearing her mother's light, but pronounced steps on the stairs.
"Another letter, from a place we didn't even apply to," a smug smile came over her lips. "You're quite a brilliant child, don't waste your talent."
Hermione swallowed, opening the envelope, addressed to Number Eight, Durfold Drive. Written in shimmering green ink, the letter read:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL
Of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Wugwump,
International Confed. Of Wizards)
Dear Miss 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 July 31.
Yours Sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
"Mum," Hermione gawked at the letter. What was this? What did this mean Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Mrs. Granger plucked the letter out of Hermione's weak grasp. She read it once and then twice, lettering her lips purse up in that tight look of disdain.
"It's a hoax," she whispered. "It has to be. What a preposterous letter!"
A loud rap at the door made both of them start. Hermione jumped out, racing towards the door. She whipped it open in a quick movement, expecting to see maybe the Headmaster on the other side.
She wasn't disappointed. On the other side of the door stood a stern looking woman with eyes and a nose similar to Elise Granger's features. Instead of Elise's stylish rimless glasses, a pair of square spectacles sat on her nose. Hermione thought her long, emerald robe was peculiar, but she couldn't take her eyes off the woman's face.
"Did you send the letter?" Hermione blurted out the question. On her unmovable face, her lips upturned a little.
"Yes I did, Miss Granger," the woman stepped inside, shutting the door. "I trust you've received it?"
"Yes, I was just wondering, is it real, but you're real, so maybe the letter is real?" Hermione asked. The woman nodded, looking up as Mrs. Granger hurried down the winding staircase. Albert Granger came to the door on hearing a guest's voice.
"You are?" Elise arrived first. She stared at the woman, still clutching the letter.
"Professor McGonagall," McGonagall extended her hand to Mrs. and Mr. Granger. Albert seemed thrilled, while Elise eyed her up, suspicious of her dress. It wasn't everyday someone in a pointed hat and emerald cloak visited.
"You did send the letter," Hermione gasped, suddenly knowing beyond shadow of a doubt that the letter was real.
"Letter?" Albert gazed at the three women. Elise thrust the letter at him, and he read it several times, becoming even more astounded each time. "My, well, oh my! I must say, explain?"
"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is the most prestigious school for magic in the entire world," McGonagall locked eyes with Mrs. Granger. Hermione gasped again at hearing the word prestigious. "We've had an eye on your daughter for some time, and it's been decided she's qualified to attend."
"There's no, pardon me, witches in our family," Mr. Granger laughed nervously. True, Hermione had never heard of witches and wizards, certainly in her family!
"True, your family is pure Muggle, which is none magical people. However, once in a great while, Muggle families produce magical children." Hermione heard her mother snort, and her heart sank. Nothing swayed the look in either woman's eyes, however. "Wizarding children from Muggle families are identified by exceptional intelligence, and usually some small strokes of magic, which are undetectable to most."
"I've done magic!" Hermione squeaked. "I've never remembered doing it."
"No, you wouldn't have," Mrs. Granger narrowed her eyes as McGonagall continued. "You'd always change the music in your music box, and your stuffed animals would become books."
"Well, I always remembering wanting books when I was bored," Hermione thought hard about what she said. Yes, she'd quickly tire of the same old song the ballerina would dance to. She'd open the box every time, hoping it would change when she could barely walk. Soon, it started to change, and this pleased Hermione greatly. She blushed, realizing that was her first memory.
"Nonsense," Elise spat. McGonagall locked her eyes again, similar to what Albert did at breakfast.
"Your daughter has a lot of talent, Mrs. Granger, a shame if she were to waste it."
The room when quiet. Elise's face turned slightly pale, visibly startled by her own words from McGonagall's lips. Albert rubbed his hands together, trying to break this scene.
"Well, how about tea?" He gestured everyone to the sitting room. "Elise, put on a spot of tea, dear?"
In a trance like state, Elise walked to the kitchen, doing her husband's bidding. Albert sat down, opposite McGonagall, as Hermione quietly sank into a chair near her father.
"Well, what would she learn?" Mr. Granger rubbed his hands together nervously.
"All the main magical subjects, everything she'll need to be a functioning witch," McGonagall stared curiously around the room before answering the question. "Transfiguration, which I teach, Potions, Charms, Herbology, History of Magic, and Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"Is that so?" Mr. Granger's eyes widened. "Sounds exciting."
"Your daughter is perfectly able to take the classes. From what I've seen and read, she's brilliant, and should do well," Hermione blushed at McGonagall's comment. This woman, so stern, and a teacher, said she was brilliant! Having a teacher compliment on her, especially one who'd never had her, always thrilled Hermione.
"Yes, our Hermione has gotten stacks of offers to academies." Mr. Granger commented as Elise walked in with four cups of tea. Surely, Hermione mused, this school couldn't be terrible if this woman taught there? If the school were anything like her, I'd be positively wonderfully hard!
"I want the best for her," Mrs. Granger faced McGonagall, barely lettering her take a sip of tea. McGonagall nodded, sipping her tea anyway.
"I assure you, no student has ever thought Hogwarts too easy, and we make it so it never will be," McGonagall replied.
"This Headmaster, how stands his record?" Mrs. Granger shot another question. McGonagall smiled at this, holding out her hand for the letter.
"In our world, he's the best, very distinguished," McGonagall said as Elise read the letter again. "The letter lists all his titles, but he's done a considerable amount more. Hogwarts is the safest place in the world with Albus Dumbledore as Headmaster."
"You and Albert were discussing subject matter," Elise began again. "Are all the teachers reliable?"
"Quite so. All of our teachers have had plenty of experience in their subject, and using it practically, in the magical world," Hermione felt her blood pump hard. This was all a studious girl could want.
"Why don't we hear of this magical world?" Albert asked the question this time. "That you have schools that aren't known seems a bit peculiar."
"We take great care to hide ourselves, or else everyone would want a magical answers to their problems," McGonagall replied. "Some who interact with Muggles let their magical abilities go to their heads," a definite frown came over her face. "It's for our safety and yours."
"I see," Elise mused. "Hermione, wash out the cups and saucers, dear." Quite disappointed at being cut out, she obeyed anyway. Her mother wanted to talk about something serious, she could tell. So, leaving the water running Hermione crept in hearing distance of the conversation.
"Will that happen to Hermione?" Elise whispered.
"No, it happens to some, but I see no cause to be worried about Hermione. This is why we have Defense Against the Dark Arts, so when there is a malevolent wizard or witch, your child can defend herself," McGonagall whispered.
"If she goes, what about us?" Elise's voice was barely audible. "We're not supposed to know about this world, correct?"
"If you tell no one, you may know," McGonagall's voice dropped lower than her mother's.
"However, if you tell a soul, your memory will be modified so you never remember Hermione."
Hermione covered her mouth, muffling her gasp. How terrible! She tried to still her pounding heart, desperately wanting to hear more. "Also, if Hermione is expelled, we'll modify all your memories so that none of you remember. All that will happen is Hermione will be behind in her education."
Hermione squeaked, and the conversation stopped. She quickly went back to turn off the water. The second option, in her opinion, was even more horrible! She'd forget everything she learned! Being expelled and years behind in her education was more unbearable than her parent's totally forgetting her.
"Well, Hermione," her mother's voice softened, yet was still crisp. "I told you, you may go where ever you choose. I trust you heard every word McGonagall told us?"
"Yes," Hermione could barely speak. Her father looked absolutely shaken, wringing his hands until his knuckles were white. "I want to go. I'll promise I'll be good."
"It's unlikely a girl with a record like yours would get expelled," McGonagall stood up. Again, her lips turned up slightly. "I'll inform the Headmaster of your decision. Here's directions to the Leaky Cauldron, a terribly rundown little inn, but I'll meet you there, a week from now, on July Thirtieth. I'll take you where you can buy all Hermione's supplies."
"Do you use the same currency?" Hermione frowned, finding it odd wizards would use pounds or Euros.
"No, but our money is worth more than Muggle money, so bring extra," they escorted McGonagall to the door. "It's been a pleasure."
With that, the door was shut behind the stern Professor. Hermione's head swam with intense burning to learn everything talked about. She quickly bounded up to her room, not missing her parent's exchange one of their looks.
(A/N: Please review! This may be my best work, to date. Thanks, MorganRay)