Chapter 2

Hermione tried her hardest, but she didn't know how to try to move the little paper clip mummy and daddy told her to practice with. She tried to do it, but it just felt like she was waving her hand.

Mummy and Daddy talked to the kindergarten teacher and the principal after her incident. Since they couldn't remember the magic, they made the excuse that she'd faked being sick that day because she was bored in class. The teacher agreed to let her read books in class because of the incident, so long as she participated in the class discussions, and so she would pull out the magic book and read the theories again and again. She still didn't understand what they meant by feeling the magic, like it was an emotion, but it came up a few times in the practical explanations and she wanted to know what it meant. How do you feel magic, how do you make it move consistently throughout the charm or heavier at the end?

"Maybe you're going about this the wrong way, sweetheart," her mum said one day when she had started crying because she couldn't do it. "Are you thinking that you'll do the spell, and then you'll feel this magic and be able to do it again?"

Hermione sniffled and shrugged. She wasn't sure what she was doing, but she knew it had to be wrong.

"Can you think about how you felt at school, the day you brought the book to you?" her mother asked, sitting next to her. "Do you remember?"

Hermione nodded. "It was like a bubble bursting, but Mister said that was because I started the magic."

"Well, it wouldn't hurt to try it again, would it?" her mother observed. "Go on, try and repeat the feeling. And remember, it only takes the faith of a mustard seed to move mountains. Believe you can, sweetheart, and that's half the battle."

Hermione sighed and looked at the paperclip on the table on more time. Mummy said to think about her first bit of magic, and so she did. That non-anger bubble. At first, there was nothing. Then she felt it – it was faint, but there. The end of the bubble, the after-effects of the pop she'd felt that day in kindergarten. Suddenly confident, she waved her hand. "Wingardium leviosa!"

The paper clip shot into the air fast and unrestrained. It hit the ceiling before Hermione squeaked, lost her focus, and the paper clip fell back to the table. It didn't matter, she'd done it! She shrieked and jumped up and down in her excitement. She didn't realize she'd been so loud until her mother came rushing through the door.

"Mummy, mummy, I did magic! I did magic!" she spun and hugged her mom. "Thank you, mummy, thank you!"

Her mom smiled in relief. Finally. Arms came up to wrap around the sweet little girl. "My little miracle."

Hermione practiced the spell so much over the next couple of days that she was able to float flowers over to her mother – they bundles of little dandelions she'd picked on her way home from school. It made her mom happy, and she wanted to do it more. She also lifted her books more often, slowly lifting them to her. It still wasn't the speed of that first day, but maybe it wasn't the right charm for that.

But, true to Hermione's character, one spell couldn't keep her occupied for long. She'd read about so many spells from the book, like summoning fire or water, transfiguring people and things, repairing things that were broken or even cleaning things that she never thought could be cleaned. Everything was so interesting, she wanted to try them all.

This led to some … interesting scenarios.

"Catch that Tweety Bird!" Hermione screeched as she barreled into the room after a yellow blur.

The dentists went into combat mode. Mrs. Granger grabbed a wooden spoon from the utensil crock and charged at the flying bird-like creature, Mr. Granger closed the open window and then looked for something to catch it in. Hermione was trying to get it with her magic, but it was too fast and too … mischievous.

Finally Mr. Granger caught the thing by getting laundry bag from the other room and used it as a giant net. Both parents were out of breath, but had enough energy to level their disappointed gaze at their daughter.

"Hermione, hunny, why did you bring a cartoon character to life?"

Hermione was all apologies, but she thought it wasn't too bad. She'd been trying a charm to conjure birds, but obviously had ended up picturing canaries as they were depicted in the cartoons. So instead of a regular bird being conjured, she had somehow managed to conjure the signature cartoon birdy in its two-dimensional glory.

After a little bit of discussion, they decided that in this instance, perhaps practical experience was best. If Hermione was having a hard time picturing a proper bird, they would have to take the little witch to the pet store to see birds up close.

"Now remember," her mother told her, "we're not actually getting you a pet. Well, unless you want a fish, I suppose."

"I know, mom," Hermione huffed while raising her chin high in the air. "I still don't think I need to look at the birds. I can get it right on my own!"

The miniature witch was sulking since her parents had told her not to try the spell again. Her parents had tried unsuccessfully to convince her this was part of being a good witch, but their daughter had taken it as an insult to her abilities and had refused to be separated from her book from a moment since. They found her reading it at every moment as if trying to prove to them she was smart enough, hard-working enough to do it.

"Let's just see if this experience helps, alright?"

Mrs. Granger led the young witch by her reluctant hand into the quaint, old-fashioned pet shop. It was a local place that was in a converted house on the outskirts of London. It was warm and filled with exposed wooden beams to give it a classical look that made Hermione finally give a small smile for their mother/daughter outing.

"Let's see …"

Mrs. Granger scanned though the pets, looking through the cages to find the birds. She caught a little movement out of the corner of her eyes that seemed … too fast. Maybe one of the pets had gotten loose?

Regardless, she pulled Hermione over to the aviary to look at the cute little canaries and bouncing budgies. Hermione's face scrunched up as she looked at the birds, but not in the disgusted mose-wrinkling way; she was studying them nearly clinically while keeping her distance. Her mother regarded her with eyes that were a little too dull to be happy. Another lacking connection from her daughter in a world where connections meant everything. She needed to learn to appreciate other people – or creatures, in this case.

But amongst her observing, Mrs. Granger noticed a slight change in her daughter. Her clinical forward posture that exist to examine the birds in their cages changes and moved backwards just a little, centering her on the earth the same way she did whenever she was casting a spell. Instead of casting, though, she seemed to look to her right for something that had caught her attention.

"Sweetheart?"

Her voice was soft, but Hermione mightn't have heard it if it were a shout. Her magic was buzzing and all her senses were fixed on the feeling. It was like the feeling of right before a spell.

"Oh, customers!" a blonde girl ran from the back, her face flushed and sweaty. "I'm so sorry, but you will have to come back later. I'm dealing with a little emergency in the back."

It seemed the appearance of the blonde had acted as a catalyst for the creature in the shadows let out a screeching yowl and leapt from underneath the tables to launch itself at the young witch. Hermione had barely time to think but she instinctually caught the soft creature even as the owner and her own mother shrieked in surprise.

Hermione felt the sweet rush of magic as the fair-haired creature landed in her arms and looked down in surprise. It was a little blonde baby fox. It yipped and licked at her nose, clearly claiming her. She nearly wanted to drop it as it cleaned her face with its rough tongue. "Eeww!"

It was only when the fox scrambled in her arms to remain there that Hermione's eyes were drawn to the extraordinarily swishy tail. Too swishy. And big. Her eyes widened and a gasp left her mouth. It had more than one tail.

"Are you magic?" she knew the answer, but she was surprised when the fox decided to wave its tail in a hypnotic pattern of swirling colours. "Magical creatures …"

Like a bullet, she ran up to the blonde who'd rushed to remove them from the store.

"You're a witch! Mom, she's a witch too!"

She lifted the fox as if to provide proof, making the animal scream as if it were injured. That made Hermione turn from the excited academic to a caring nurturer like her mother didn't see often as she pulled the fox back into her arms to coo and shush the animal who positively preened under the attention.

The blonde proprietress seemed baffled. "A witch too?"

The fox honestly licked the girl's neck and her daughter giggled in response. It was an unreal sight made only stranger by a subtle glow coming from the wolf. The glow was ignored by Hermione, but the proprietress knew that glow.

"You naughty kitsune!" the blonde wiggled her finger at the nine-tail fox in a huff. It had the audacity to sniff snootily at her and bury deeper into the girl's arms. "This is why you escaped you cage."

Hermione's head shot up. "Kitsune? He escaped?"

"You know he's a boy?" the blonde raised her brow.

Hermione looked at the fox. "He feels like a boy."

The proprietress sighed and extended her hand. "I feel like we need introductions. I'm Samantha Wright."

"Hermione," she shook hands. "You're a witch, right?"

"Muggle-born, but yes," she said with a soft, resigned smile. "You're muggleborn too? Well, follow me. The back room is better for these kind of talks."

Hermione jumped to follow the strange woman, her mind and mouth just brimming with questions. The most prominent one … "What's a muggleborn?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "It's a title that means born without magical parents. Practically, however …" she observed Mrs. Granger with a sad look. "Let's just say I don't like it."

The door swung open to show a regular little office with a desk strewn with papers and ledgers and boring white walls. Both Granger women looked at her with confusion until Samantha pulled her wand from up her sleeve and with graceful sweeping motions sent a wave of magic towards the wall. It shook for a moment, creaking and groaning, and then folded back like a Chinese screen to reveal an entire world beyond the wall.

Cages and habitats, fenced in areas and then other locked in the rafters showed strange and beautiful beasts Hermione had never really read about before. Oh, there were normal cats and frogs, there were even owls that she recognized, but there were also bat-wing-webbed monkeys, balls of puff that like rolling around in their pen, and twigs that came alive and played on a little lemon tree in the center of the room as if it were a jungle gym.

By far, the least populous group were the three fox-like creatures that looked like the one in her arms. The shopkeep had called them kitsune?

The little fluffy fox in her arms gave a cry and then arced to the ground and towards her fellow foxes. They ran up to greet their lost comrade and nattered at each other through the cages, biting and nuzzling each other best they could.

"These creatures are all ones popular among magic-users as pets, except your little fox friend," the woman said with an introduction to each animal. "Toads, the hamsters and mice of the wizarding world; kneazles and cats because they're intelligent and the most common to form a familiar bond with; owls are used to deliver wizarding post; ahool are used for the same; puffskeins are just …. adorable. Honestly, their only redeeming qualities are that they are simply cute and affectionate, highly loyal pets. These little guys are Bowtruckels," she said, introducing her to the stick figures. "Most wizards come in to buy them if they want to find wand-trees, like a kind of sniffer dog."

After giving them the brief introductions, she took them to the fox pen where the little kitsunes were still playing. "These troublemakers aren't really popular pets, especially out East; in Japan they're actually hunted and not really well protected in the government. Like the fox-hunts are done here, the wizarding community do have hunts for these guys out East. They can't really be domesticated unless they're bonded, which is always a lucky chance at best. They were also considered demons in olden-times because they would take eggs and kill chickens, and of course they sound just as horrible as regular foxes do. This litter I got from a friend over there. He found them when their mother was killed but didn't want to really keep them in the country. The prejudice … well, I can understand that at least, so I took them in. Although it looks like I only have three left here."

Hermione clearly saw four, and she said so. Ms. Wright's lips perked up at the corners and her eyes glittered in amusement as she watched the young girl. "Well, no one's forcing you to take him, but he'll be very sad if you don't. The little monster escaped from his pen just to see you, you know. He seems to think you'd be a great human to bond with as a familiar."

The fox seemed to agree – or it may have wanted to show off to his siblings – because he ran around the feet of the witch playfully, a blur of platinum fur and breathy yips of glee. Mrs. Granger watched as the playful ball of nine-tailed carefreeness elicited a giggle from the young girl and she knew she would let her bring it home.

"But…" Young Hermione looked down at the kitsune with a frown. "Mum and dad couldn't have people over if I had this kind of pet. I mean, if he were a cat-"

It was while suppressing a chuckle that Samantha watched the fox shift right before the girl's eyes into the shape of a platinum cat with black facial markings and a black-tipped tail just to end up seated at Hermione's feet as if beaming proudly at the girl for its successful trick.

"The kitsune are shapeshifters," the shopkeeper chuckled at the startled faces. "I suppose another reason for them being demons in myths, but very handy for you, I suppose. I'm sure he would change into a cat whenever you needed him to if you took him as a familiar."

"But isn't a familiar just a witch's pet?" Hermione scrunched her face up.

With a quirk of the brow, Samantha motioned to the group of baby kitsune. "Try holding a different kitsune. I guarantee you'll definitely feel the difference."

While the woman wasn't overly condescending to her, Hermione took it as an 'I'm right, you're wrong' moment in the worst sort of way. She was too proud to refuse the challenge and promptly walked over to the kitsune pen to try an pick up on of the siblings. Her kitsune clearly wanted to help in that regard, because it yipped and yowled at its kin, presumably to behave because they all stilled as she reached in to pick one of them up. Her hands brushed against one, but when it moved she started slightly and reached for a different fox all together.

The one she did pick up had a similar blonde-white colouring as her fox but with reddish tips to her tails instead of the black. Even when her hand first brushed its sides she knew it wasn't the same, just as Ms. Wight said. While there was something to be said for how adorable the kitsune was, she felt none of the same magical kinship when she was in her arms then she did for her brother. She quickly lowered it back into the pen.

"I don't see the difference," she lied between her teeth. Her kitsune – the black-tipped beauty on the ground – gave her a look and magical feeling of utter disappointment that punched her right in the stomach before turning away from her and jumping back into the pen with its siblings.

Mrs. Granger watched as her daughters' pride cost her yet again and waited for the next sign of what she should do. Samantha, however, seemed to know exactly what was needed. The woman was no nonsense as she reached into the cage to grab the running animal and drag it from it pen.

"Now here you," Samantha said to the fox, "she's your witch now, you know; you picked her. If she treats you poorly, you nip her fingers but you DON'T run away."

The owner shot a look at Hermione who was wide-eyed for the moment, before turning back to the kitsune and whispering conspiratorially in his face. "But you did get your feelings hurt. How about this? She's not your mistress yet, so you can just stay here with me! You don't have to go with the mean little witch."

Hermione was close to tears. Her mother watched as she stepped closer to the store-keep but then doing something her mother had seen too often – safely keeping her distance. Both shopkeep and kitsune would have been pleased to have the witch come and gather the fox in her arms, but because there was another person involved she was holding back, afraid to get into their personal space. It was both pride and fear that kept little Hermione always out of people's space; she worried she wasn't welcome, and was too proud to ask if she was.

Coming up behind her little girl, Mrs. Granger whispered in her ear, "I think we could use a pet like him in the house. Do you think he'd forgive you if you said sorry?"

Hermione shook her trussed brown-haired head. "Ms. Wright won't let me have him."

"What have your dad and I told you about asking forgiveness?" she whispered again. "Even if he doesn't forgive you, you should still say sorry. The little fox wanted to be your friend and he deserves an apology."

Finally, Hermione nodded and shuffled herself closer to the fox and the shopkeep.

"Miss Wright?" Hermione mumbled. "I'm sorry. Can I talk to him?"

When she handed over the kitsune, Samantha strode up to Hermione's mum and the two women watched with a small smile as the girl spoke softly into the fox's neck, petted him, and then proceeded to be smothered with licks and kissed from the kitsune.

Samantha gave Mrs. Granger a sad smile. "Is your girl going to Hogwarts?"

"So we've been told," she observed the discomfort in the blonde's face and probed deeper. "Is something wrong with that school?"

"The school's not much worse than the rest of that world," Samantha told her with pain in her eyes. "That world, well … it's stuck in Middle Ages. It's hard to be in the magical world as what we are."

"What you are?"

"Muggleborns." The eyes that were so kind before hardened. "There was nearly a coup less than ten years ago by a bunch of bigots who think muggles, and anyone related to muggles, are inferior. Many of wizards still think that. Do you know why I own a regular pet store with just a few magical pets in the back?"

Mrs. Granger didn't need to think, but she still motioned for an answer.

"Because I love Britain too much to leave, but I couldn't get a job in magical Britain," she said with a resigned and sad smile. "I had to get my GSCEs and work a while before I finally converted this place into a shop. People talk about the magical world being beyond that sort of discrimination, but . . ."

The unfinished sentence lingered over their heads and reverberated in Mrs. Granger's mind, even as the two women watched the girl and her little baby kitsune play before them.