Chapter 7: Reality Renewed
"Well, I was in denial, now I think I'm just plain in disbelief," Archie said, opening the door to darkened Granger house.
"Or maybe it's just shock," Hermione jibed with a smile on her face, practically skipping into the house. "I, for one, am positively brimming with excitement."
"Which is what is so strange about it all," Addie said, following behind them and closing the door. She flipped on the hall light. "You, the one we can usually count on to be logical, are embracing this."
"Well, why not?" Hermione asked, but she was still grinning. "You saw with your own eyes, it's all real. There's another world existing parallel to our own! They have their own shops, and transportation, and post system... it's fascinating!" Her ramblings were broken off by a yawn. "Now that I'm home... I think all the excitement's caught up with me. I'm going to bed. G'night!" she exclaimed in a bright, yet sleepy voice. She bounded up the stairs, leaving her bewildered and bemused parents staring at one another in the hall.
"I suppose she has the right idea, as usual," Archie said, climbing the staircase a bit more slowly than his daughter had. Addie followed him up to their bedroom, where they both collapsed on the still-made bed, both of them still fully clothed. "So."
"So, what?"
"What do we tell the others at the practice come Monday? About our holiday?"
"Just that... well, we went to London for a couple of days," Addie said, punctuating it with a yawn of her own. "It wouldn't be entirely false."
"What do we tell our parents? Her teachers? What do we tell anyone who asks about her?" Archie said with a note of wonder in his voice. "You and I still don't entirely believe all of this, and we've, well, seen it," he finished.
Addie nodded quietly in the dark, recalling herself that moment Violet Peekins had tapped the brick wall behind the dumpy little pub, The Leaky Cauldron. She remembered the strange patrons, all wearing something akin to the robes Violet wore, only in various colors and states of shabbiness or fastidiousness. She remembered the toothless landlord waving enthusiastically to Violet, who gestured to the Grangers, and then to the back door; she recalled emerging in a dingy back alley, occupied by a trash dumpster and the scent of cat urine, and the dull and dirty brick wall that blocked any further progress. That was, until Violet tapped several bricks in a very particular order...
...In the next bedroom Hermione also was recalling her first glimpses of what was to be her new reality. She was tired, this was true, but once her body had stopped moving it only provided an opportunity for her mind to race and reel and roil with everything she had seen and experienced. It was not difficult for her to relive that moment of exhilaration when the bricks of the cat-pee-scented wall started to move. They twisted and turned and formed an archway into a world she could never have imagined, a world full of shops with strange bits and bobs, full of people clothed in robes and strange hats milling about the cobblestoned roadway. It was like something right out of the nineteenth century, or even earlier. Owls flew about in broad daylight, rolled scraps of parchment tied to their legs, or carrying brown-wrapped parcels in their claws. A surly teenager sneered at his harried mother and said, "What, are you going to use an Unforgivable on me?" before walking away, his mother calling, "DON'T YOU EVEN JOKE YOUNG MAN!" after him.
Violet had led them to a place titled "Eeylops Owl Emporium". "There's an Owl Post station there, we can send in your Hogwarts acceptance. Then we can see about getting some of your supplies picked up. Maybe just the books and a wand, really no time to get fitted for robes."
As a result, Hermione now had a stack of new books to study (though they all looked quite old, and like something out of a film set in the Victorian era) and a wand, which the strange old man by the name of Ollivander told her was made of vine wood and dragon heartstring. Both Ollivander and Violet had advised her not to use it until she had some proper training, and the Grangers had agreed. Hermione, on the other hand, had made no promises.
As for what to tell people... Well, she wasn't worried about that. She didn't have any friends to explain things to, no school mates or favourite teachers who would particularly care where she wound up. They would all probably assume she'd skipped Upper Sixth Form altogether and gone off to University, and be glad that they could get on with business as usual in the new term. She lacked her parents' network of co-workers and extended family. As for what they would tell people, they could tell them all the truth, for all Hermione cared, but she knew it wasn't a feasible solution. They had been unwilling to believe the situation, and now, even after seeing with their own eyes still felt a sense of disbelief and tentative wonder. They accepted it, but were still in a state of incredulousness over it all. There was no way anyone they knew would believe them.
"...we could tell them she was taken off by the bogeymonster," Addie said, giggling in the next bedroom.
"They'd never believe that; they'd know she'd talk her way out of it," Archie replied with a soft snort, smothering his own laughter. "She... she ran away."
"No, everyone knows she likes school too much."
"True, that. How about... just... a special school somewhere in the North recruited her. It's not far from the truth."
"But it's not all that funny," Addie said, smiling in the dark. "Still, I think it could work well enough. We tell them that a specialist—no, a consultant—told us Hermione is an Indigo Child—"
"And we make it sound very mysterious and important of course," Archie interrupted.
"Right. We tell them that, and then say a school for such precocious children asked to meet with us and wanted Hermione to go there..."
"...and given that she'd be through with traditional school as of this autumn it just seemed best for her."
Addie turned on her side and faced her husband in the darkness. "You know, I think the sad reality is that we need to accept we will never be nearly as smart as our little girl. But the nice thing is if we put our heads together we're positively brilliant."
"Yes, yes we are," Archie said, reaching over and stroking her hair. "I think that's a reality I can live with."
"Me too, dear."
They kissed.
In her room, Hermione smiled. For once it seemed that everything would work out for the best. For once it seemed like the right choice had been made, and what was more, she had made that choice for herself. Granted, as a minor her parents had had to consent to that choice, but they had. Where only a few weeks ago she'd felt like her life was ending, she now felt it renewed and refreshed by this new venture she would undertake. She supposed she should be nervous, but she resolved firmly not to give in to what she was supposed to do, or think, or feel. If she wanted to be excited about this, she would.
She closed her eyes, and her mind continued to work well into her body's sleep. Somehow, in her dreams, coming from far away, she thought she could hear Chopin playing.
"It really will be the best place for her, Kathleen. She'll be with other children... well, like her," Archibald said sensibly, flicking a surreptitious glance at his wife who smiled brightly.
"Tea? I have some lovely biscuits we picked up on our last excursion to London..."
Hermione heard her parents' voices trail off as the adults headed into the kitchen. By 'like her' he means magical, not just genius-smart, she thought proudly, practically preening as she sat in the corner chair, reading through Hogwarts: A History for the second time. She held the book in her lap so her cousin, Isabella, couldn't see what she was reading, though she doubted the slightly older girl would care. Isabella was used to Hermione reading large books, and in Isabella's mind large equaled boring. Now seemed no different.
Isabella sat at the piano, occasionally tapping a key and letting the note reverberate and die. "Ugh, it's so boring here," she complained for the third time in nearly as many minutes. "I don't see why I have to come when your parents invite my mother over to tea."
Hermione just shrugged. "Make the best of a bad situation," was all she said, not lifting her eyes from the absolute riveting paragraph about the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall of Hogwarts castle. According to the book it had been Helga Hufflepuff's idea for the ceiling to be enchanted to mirror the sky outside, so students could feel some sort of freedom from their studies. If there was one thing Hermione was positively dying to see, it was the enchanted ceiling of Hogwarts.
Isabella uttered an exaggerated sigh. "Do you have any sheet music? If I could play the piano maybe I wouldn't be so bored. I've taken lessons for about five years now," she said pompously.
"No," Hermione said automatically, wondering what kind of ability one would need to make his or her own bedroom ceiling mirror the weather conditions out of doors.
"Then what bloody use is this thing?" Isabella demanded, pounding out angry dissonance.
Hermione sighed and put down her book, carefully marking the page she'd left off on. "You don't need the sheet music," she said, "and you'll break it if you're not careful." She edged in past Isabella and found a place to begin on the keyboard, then launched into a Bach etude. "See?"
"You're just a bloody showoff," Isabella snapped, shoving Hermione out of the way. "No wonder your parents are sending you away."
"They're not sending me away. It was my choice to go."
"They can't wait to get rid of you," Isabella sneered. "You'd annoy me too if you were my kid."
Hermione bit her lip and tried not to feel angry, and tried not to yell and scream, or most importantly, tell the truth. Having Auntie Kathleen, Uncle Curran, and Isabella over was the test: a test to see if their cover story would work. If she gave into Isabella's baiting, which she was only doing out of boredom, Hermione was sure, she'd blow it for all of them. Already family gatherings were tense and strained, because no matter how she tried Hermione always wound up upsetting her cousins. And it appeared that now was no different.
"Just shut up, okay?" Hermione finally said through clenched teeth. She headed for the kitchen, wondering if she could find some civilized company among the grown-ups. Unfortunately, her parents were engaged in a rapid-fire argument, seemingly about her, which stopped Hermione right outside the door.
"Sending your own daughter away, though?"
"Come now, Curran," said Addie, trying to sound pleasant. "Lots of parents send their children to boarding school, this isn't any different. It's just that this time the school recruited her, and it's a school where she'll be with equals."
"Sorry, Addie, love, but I doubt you'll ever find a place like that. Sounds like utopia," Uncle Curran said with a hearty guffaw.
"Really, Archie, Addie... I know she's difficult to deal with sometimes, but I always thought you could handle it. I mean, it's not like she's a hoodlum, or on her way to becoming a criminal. Is she?" Auntie Kathleen's voice had a strange tone to it, as if she were a circling vulture; only this time the prey was not carrion, it was gossip. "Mum told us about her running off into London..."
"That was an isolated incident. The first, and may I add last, time she's ever done that sort of thing," Archie said in a firm voice. "Addie and I can handle her. It's the schools around here that can't. This... this school will provide her with what she needs."
"A sound thumping when she gives cheek?" asked Uncle Curran, guffawing again.
Hermione wondered if he had been drinking. She listened more closely.
"Look, let's just bring out the tea, and some biscuits. I'd love to talk with Isabella," Addie said cordially—No you wouldn't—tacked on Hermione, "because it feels like simply ages since I've seen her last. How old is she now, thirteen?"
"Almost fourteen," said Auntie Kathleen, her voice getting closer, and causing Hermione to sidle back to the living room, where Isabella was reading a magazine.
"Let me guess," the older girl said, blowing a chewing gum bubble. "Nobody felt like talking to you."
"You're not supposed to be chewing gum," Hermione said automatically, more focused on Isabella's gum than on the taunts. "You have braces. The gum will get caught."
"I always chew gum. And eat sweets. And caramel. Gooey caramel that gets caught in my braces and between my teeth and causes cavities. And I refuse to floss, too," she finished, bored. "Honestly, get a life, Herms."
"Please, don't call me that, it's annoying."
"Well, so are you. We're even, kay? Why can't you be normal?" Isabella popped another bubble, and Hermione watched, wincing, as the gum seemed to weave itself into the brackets and wires in Isabella's mouth as she masticated in an incredibly bovine fashion. She vowed never to chew gum, well, at least not like that, and especially not when her braces were finally put on, which her parents told her would be next summer.
"Ah, Hermione. Isabella," Addie said cordially, setting down a tray of biscuits. "Help yourselves, girls."
"Hermione," Auntie Kathleen said with a smile that Hermione automatically recognized as predatory. "Your parents tell me you're being sent away for school this upcoming term."
"I'll be going of my own volition, thanks," Hermione said pleasantly, ignoring Isabella's snort of disgust. "When I weighed my options it was really what made sense."
"I'm sure," Uncle Curran said, shoving a biscuit in his mouth and chewing noisily, crumbs lodging in his graying beard. "Life ain't easy for a kid like you."
Hermione took a deep breath and pasted on a smile, forcing herself to resist correcting his grammar. "No, it isn't, but my hope is this school will make it a bit easier." She daintily nibbled the end of a vanilla-flavoured biscuit. "I'll be with kids just like me. Who could ask for more?"
"Wow, a school of freaks," Isabella said sarcastically, popping yet another bubble, and sneering, showing off her mouth full of metal.
"You're a fine one to talk," Hermione shot back. "Excuse, me, I have some studying to do," she said, turning pleading eyes on her parents, who nodded vigorously.
She loped up the stairs, realizing she'd left Hogwarts: A History behind, but at least this time she had a stack of other books to read. She picked up The Standard Book Of Spells: Grade 1 and began reading. Downstairs, the adults were arguing, only this time, it was Archie and Addie reproaching Auntie Kathleen and Uncle Curran for letting Isabella chew gum while she still had on her braces. Hermione smiled as she immersed herself in studying the specifics of swish-and-flick; reality was truly a wonderful thing sometimes.
