I guess I forgot the disclaimer the first time around, so, here goes:

I own nothing…Jo Rowling owns everything but Mara, the Bible owns that one.

This is my first fanfic ever posted so, if it sticks royally bad, flame me and I shall spare everyone by never writing again.

With that out of the way, on with the show…

My friends, if you could call them that, more like my classmates always called me a bookworm. Ever since I entered primary school, I could always remember being the smartest one in the classroom. But it wasn't like it was my fault. If the other kids would have just read a little more, I wouldn't have stuck out as much. So this is my side of the story. Me, Hermione Granger.

Some people would never know this, but for the first eight years of my life, I grew up in America. I know, some people may find that really weird, but I went to the finest school that America could possibly offer, and I still was considered a know-it-all. Whoever thought of that phrase, needs to be taken out and hexed.

On my first day of school ever, the teacher stood over me a spelled L-I-B-A-R-Y and I got excited. She couldn't believe that I enjoyed going to the library and knew how it was spelled. The kids in the class looked up to me that day, but that was all going to change.

During the summer between kindergarten and first grade, I had a large library of books to read. You see, during the summer the library downtown has a summer reading club for children 6-12. I may have been shy by a year, but they let me in because I could out-read some of the twelve-year-olds.

The next grade, what Americans call first grade, I learned how to do my addition tables faster than anyone in the class. The teacher always gave me the candy. Everyone hated me for that. I would never live it down. I mean really, is C-A-T really that hard to spell?

This summer was also filled with more reading and out-scoring some more fellow readers that had involved themselves in the summer reading club.

In second grade the teacher already had me on times tables in the beginning of the year. I ended up skipping that grade. My parents decided that I was being held back in my studies. Second grade people!

So on I went to third grade with new classmates, new teacher, and a new building. I thought, with joyous optimism, that maybe this year might be better because I was with kids as smart as me. But, alas, I was stuck as the girl who skipped a grade. I swear, every bully in the new school had threatened me at one time to do their homework. But I wouldn't stand for that, oh no, I went right to my teacher with all of that nonsense. Worst idea of my life. Now, not only was I a know-it-all, but a "nark", as they call it in the states.

My fourth grade year, my parents both found jobs, as dentists, in Surry, England. They decided that a move would do me some good. So for the third time I switched schools.

By fourth grade I had learned my lesson, keep your mouth shut around other children. This was my chance to break out of the know-it-all standard and become "cool". My attentive-ness in class took care of that quickly. But the best thing ever happened to me, I had a friend. Her name was Mara. She had blonde hair and blue eyes, and was almost as smart as me. (I said almost) We hung out together all summer. But this would be the summer I received my Hogwarts' letter. I thought I could have cried. I had finally had a friend and had to move schools, again.

My cover story was that a boarding school in London had gotten wind of my intelligence and I was going. My parents were not as happy as some to send their only baby off to school, let alone a magical school. Professor Dumbledore's letter was the most reassuring thing for them, I believe. When Professor McGonagall showed up at my door to tell my parents and I about this new world, they took me to Diagon Alley that very day. We bought out the book store, I believe. The man's face behind the counter was brighter than any I have ever seen before.

Mara and I hung out in my room. Mom and Dad had built a separate room for my books a long time ago, so there was no way she could expose anything. I was eleven years old, hanging out with my best and only friend in the world, and told that I couldn't revel who I really was. That was the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life.

Mara went with my parents to drop me off at King's Cross Station. She didn't go in, she had to wait in the car, and I had to tell her I didn't want her to come any farther. Another lie to my best friend. I promised her we could hang out all summer when I got back, and all of Christmas break, if I could get home.