A/N: Thank you for your reviews - they are much appreciated!
Chapter 3: Tyche
"A witch?"
The word echoed within the walls of the formal lounge. Hermione was perched between her parents on a sleek pale grey couch facing Professor McGonagall - as she had introduced herself - who sat sipping at her tea on one of the opposite occasional chairs. The extra scones, jam and cream from Hermione's birthday breakfast were artfully arranged on a silver tea service set atop a polished mahogany coffee table between them. Hermione pressed her toes into the plush rug below, trying to ground herself while her mind raced.
"Miss Granger, I know this must be difficult to grasp-"
"I was just thinking that - well, you see, there have been so many instances - but then, there was always something that seemed to - I'm so sorry, I'm not even sure what to say," interrupted Hermione, hands wringing in her lap and a strange excitement bubbling within her chest. Hermione's father glanced down at his daughter before speaking.
"Professor McGonagall, I can't seem to find the words to convey our-"
"Skepticism?" Professor McGonagall smiled. "Mr Granger, your hesitancy is understandable. I would expect no less, but surely you have noticed odd things. Things that you may not have been able to adequately explain - not for lack of trying, I'm sure."
The doctors Granger glanced at each other over Hermione's head. Mrs Granger's arm was clasped protectively around her daughter's shoulders, lips pressed together and, up until now, strangely silent.
"The lady, dear," she began hesitantly. "The lady at the park."
They both knew however that the mysterious meeting at the park all those years ago was just one incident in a veritable sea of unexplainable occurrences.
Professor McGonagall reached into her cloak, withdrew a thick envelope and extended it towards Hermione, who frowned at the smooth material. It looked almost medieval, almost like -
"Parchment," Hermione murmured in delight, running her fingers lightly over the surface, eyes devouring the emerald ink looping across the front that confirmed the letter was indeed meant for her. After receiving a nod from her father, Hermione moved to break the seal at the back before eyeing the professor, lips quirking.
"I would have thought it obvious not to tickle a sleeping dragon."
Professor McGonagall's eyebrows shot up in surprise and Mr Granger allowed a proud smile at her inquiring glance. Hermione's mother laughed softly and examined the crest embossed on the envelope herself. Though the lion, the serpent and the raven were almost typical main charges on a coat of arms, a badger was indeed unusual.
"You can understand Latin, child?"
"Not fluently, of course," Hermione mumbled distractedly, breaking the seal on the envelope and carefully sliding the precisely folded letters from within.
"Of course," Professor McGonagall agreed, eyes sparkling with amusement.
"Our Hermione likes to read," said Mrs Granger, the corners of her lips twitching upwards despite herself as her husband snorted in response. Oblivious to the exchange, Hermione moved to spread the parchment reverently over what little space remained on the coffee table and began to read.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Ms. Granger,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
"Order of Merlin," Hermione began, incredulously. "Surely you can't possibly mean that Merlin was real?"
"Indeed, Merlin and Nimue both," nodded Professor McGonagall. Hermione filed that information away for further thought and looked back down at her letter, giggling a little deliriously at the word 'mugwump' before a flash of alarm appeared on her face.
"If term began on the 1st of September, does that mean I'm already behind?!"
"Not in the slightest, Miss Granger. Prospective students receive their letter on their eleventh birthday. As you were not quite old enough for the year that just began you will join the following year's cohort - assuming, of course, you elect to attend."
Hermione peeked up at her parents but didn't dare to ask. She could hardly believe herself that this wasn't an elaborate prank in spite of the fact that magic seemed the perfect explanation to otherwise inexplicable events. Her heart sunk a little as the rational corner of her mind implored her that this couldn't possibly be real.
"I just can't seem to believe it, as much as I truly want to," she said quietly.
The professor nodded again and pulled from within her left sleeve a length of pale, tapered wood and held it aloft as one would do with a conductor's baton.
"This is a wand. It is an instrument that focuses a witch or wizard's magic. With some focus and the correct words and wand movements, one can cast a spell," she explained. She glanced at Hermione's parents, seemingly for permission to proceed, and did so when they shrugged uncertainly. Hermione leaned as far forward as physically possible without leaving her seat, fidgeting with nervous energy.
"Wingardium Leviosa," Professor McGonagall intoned crisply, gesturing with her wand towards the tea service on the coffee table. Hermione followed the swish-and-flick of the wand tip with curious eyes and gasped as the heavy silver teapot her grandmother had gifted her mother on her wedding day rose steadily into the air. Unable to quite stop herself, she stood and waved an arm over the teapot, then under it, then turned to stare at her parents.
"I knew it," she whispered, eyes burning bright with an almost ferocious conviction. "I knew there was something different about me. Everyone else at school - they aren't like me, mum, but there's a school somewhere full of people just like me! You must let me go! Please, Dad!"
Hermione's voice had risen in her excitement, words tumbling over each other in her haste to impress upon her parents the sudden scorching need that had gripped her.
"Sweetheart, this is a lot for us to take in," began her mother. "This is an important decision, and I'm sure you can understand we will need some time and a lot more discussion before we can even begin to consider this. Before we can really even begin to understand this."
Hermione nodded and glanced back down at her letter, examining once again the Hogwarts crest. Her head shot up to look at the professor who was settling the teapot back to its tray.
"Goodness! Do you mean to say there really are such things as dragons?"
With years of experience in conducting innumerable similar meetings, Professor McGonagall was well prepared to answer the flood of questions that had faced her - so much so that she had perfected a monologue that provided what she believed was necessary information for Muggle parents to make an informed decision about their magical child's future.
"The wizarding world functions similarly to the non-magical world in that there is a ministry, The Ministry of Magic, that acts as the governing body of magical peoples and sentient magical beings. Though we recognise the authority of Her Majesty The Queen of England, we are essentially a separate society."
When there were no exclamations condemning her of sedition, which had occurred more than a few times in the past, she took a sip of her fresh cup of tea and continued on.
"Muggleborns - that is to say, wizards or witches with non magical parents - are an integral part of Wizarding society. Pureblood children are the product of magical parents, and Halfblood children, as you can imagine, have one magical and one non-magical, or muggle, parent. There are very few ancestrally Pureblood families remaining and they amount to what is essentially the peerage in the Wizarding world. In my opinion, however, it matters naught what your ancestry is when it comes to wielding magic."
The professor rearranged herself on the armchair, back still ramrod straight, and continued.
"There are those that would look down upon Muggleborns and Halfbloods, and in fact a terrible war was waged because of it, concluding just over a decade ago. I want to impress upon you that the opinion of the wider magical community largely reflects my own."
She paused. It was here in her speech that Professor McGonagall expected resistance. She watched as the Grangers exchanged an uneasy glance, Hermione tilting her head to look up at her parents, before Mr Granger motioned for her to continue on. She expected she would be questioned further regarding what had amounted to a race war when young, impressionable ears weren't present.
"Hogwarts is the premier Ministry-recognised educational facility in the United Kingdom. It is the only institution that offers both OWL and NEWT level courses - these would translate to your Muggle 'O Levels' and 'A Levels' respectively. There are of course a few smaller centres that provide magical education but to find schools on par with ours you would need to look internationally."
Hermione was once again astounded that there was another community - an international community - hidden so carefully away from their own.
"Your education comprises of seven years. Hogwarts is a boarding facility, and as such you are required to remain on campus throughout the term. Students have the option of returning home for Christmas and summer holidays. On arrival at Hogwarts you will be sorted into one of four houses which will function as your family within Hogwarts. You will sleep in your house dormitories and eat at your house table."
Mrs Granger traced her finger over the four stylised animals on the Hogwarts crest, looking down at the top of her daughter's head. Her little face was almost obscured by a cloud of curly brown hair but she knew her daughter would be hanging on every word, excited about finally belonging. A sudden panic seized her chest.
She was going to lose her little girl.
A/N: Thank you for taking the time to read my work! Please do leave a review.
I truly cannot imagine a world in which Minerva McGonagall does not take her job introducing Muggleborns and their parents to the Wizarding world seriously.
Can anyone guess what kind of flowers made up Hermione's crown in the first chapter?