THE STORY OF A MUGGLEBORN

Chapter Three: Hermione's New Home

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the characters. They all belong to JK Rowling.

London, Hermione decided, was not her favorite place to be. Having grown up in the countryside, the city's cramped spaces and busy streets made her feel unbearably claustrophobic. The Underground was the worst part, despite being the easiest way to travel in such an area. Hermione hated the idea of being inside of the dark, rattling tube.

She and her parents were seated in the train now as it rambled along towards Leicester station. This was their third day in the city, and in Hermione's opinion, the most important. Today, they were going to 'Diagon Alley'. Today, Hermione would officially enter the wizarding world for the first time.

After several lengthy discussions, a few shouting matches, and some research on Anne's part, it had been decided that Hermione would attend Hogwarts School that fall. However, the week that followed dinner with Ms. McGonagall had been incredibly stressful for Hermione's family. Anne had first asked Hermione to try and perform magic, so that they might have some shred of evidence of her so called 'witch-hood'. Eventually, Hermione had become so frustrated with her mother and her own lack of ability to produce evidence that their teapot, which had been sitting on the counter during their argument, shattered into a thousand pieces. This had been good enough for Adam, who'd been watching their battle indifferently from the corner.

"Well, I'd say that settles it," he'd said. "She must be a witch." He went to get a broom for the broken glass.

Anne, who'd been staring at the spot where the teapot used to be, pulled herself back into reality. "That most certainly does not settle it!" she cried shrilly. And so, throughout the next several days, discussions and more fights had ensued.

As promised, McGonagall's next owl arrived bright and early on July 31st, carrying registration papers, should Hermione be allowed to attend Hogwarts. Later that morning, Anne had called them all to a meeting in order to make a final decision.

"Now that we've been through all of this… deliberation," she'd begun, after sighing heavily. "I've personally decided that… it's up to you, Hermione. The teapot incident proved that you must be a witch. So now all that's left to choose is whether you want to join the wizarding kind, or remain here, as… as a muggle."

Hermione had felt her mouth hanging open and had quickly shut it. Her parents were leaving the decision up to her? After all they'd been through, all the fights, they were allowing her to choose her own future? At first, it'd seem too good to be true. She had, of course, responded to her mother with an immediate "yes". But the more she'd thought about it, the more unsure she'd become. What was the wizarding world even like? Would she really fit in as well as McGonagall had promised?

After hearing their daughter's confirmation, Anne and Adam had then filled out the registration papers, as well as written a reply letter to McGonagall, and sent it back with the owl. The next evening, it returned with yet another message from the deputy headmistress, bearing congratulations and suggesting that they buy Hermione's school supplies in Diagon Alley, a wizarding village hidden in London. Heeding McGonagall's recommendation, Adam had booked a hotel, and they'd left for the city two days later.

Now, here they sat on the Underground, traveling to the Leaky Caldron, a pub near Leicester station. A representative from Hogwarts was meeting them at the pub to help them natvigate Diagon Alley.

Hermione could not remember a time in her life when she'd been more nervous. In the muggle world, she'd always kept to herself, away from her peers. She'd cared very little about what others thought of her and their comments had, for the most part, rolled right off her. But today was different. Hermione was desperate to make a good impression on the people of the wizarding world, and she was terrified of failing miserably. What if she didn't really belong as well as McGonagall had said? What if the other children her age were much more advanced at magic? What if growing up muggle had caused her to fall far behind the other Hogwarts students?

She glanced down at her hands, which were followed tightly in her lap, and realized how violently she was shaking. Anne seemed to have noticed this as well, and she laid a comforting arm around her daughter's shoulders.

Ten minutes later, the train rambled to a jerky stop, and Hermione followed her parents up into the bright sunlight. Anne pulled out a small map from Ms. McGonagall, turning it this way and that until she found out where they were.

"Uh… that way…" she indicated in a general direction, and they set off.

A twenty minute walk later, Hermione noticed a musty looking storefront ahead of them. She could just barely make out the faint lettering on the sign hanging above it, reading 'the Leaky Cauldron'.

"There it is," she said, pointing to the pub.

Anne and Adam squinted, trying to read the sign at the place she had indicated. After a few moments, Adam nodded slowly. "Yes, I see it," he said.

"That was weird," Anne murmured as they walked towards it. "I didn't even see anything there until you pointed it out…"

Hermione glanced curiously at her mother, wondering what she meant. She was jerked out of her thoughts when Adam pulled the door of the pub open and stepped back for them to enter.

There was hardly any light in the room they walked into, nothing but a few candles burning here and there. Several rickety old tables were randomly set around, and there was a small bar in the back corner. A bald, toothless man was lazily preparing a drink behind it; Hermione assumed him to be the bartender. The only other occupants of the pub were two men chatting animatedly at a table, a small family eating lunch, and four little old women seated in a dark corner.

The Granger's glanced around, feeling incredibly out of place in their jeans and sweatshirts. Everyone else had on dark colored robes, ranging from velvet to leather. The bartender finally looked up, noticing them for the first time. He scrutinized them curiously, before a small smile broke out on his face.

"What can I do for you?" the old man asked, coming out from behind the bar.

Hermione glanced shakily back at her parents, who seemed to be at a loss for words. Cautiously, she stepped forward.

"Minerva McGonagall sent us," she said, trying to seem confident. "We're supposed to be meeting a Hogwarts representative here…" she could feel her knees shaking uncontrollably, and suddenly wished she were back in the comfort of her home, the muggle world.

"Ah yes," the bartender said happily, grinning even wider and showing off his toothless gums. "Muggleborn, I presume?"

She nodded and smiled weakly, the man's cheerful attitude helped her to relax a little. Her mother finally seemed to come to her senses and stepped up beside Hermione.

"Anne Granger," she said, extending her hand to the bartender. "This is my husband Adam and my daughter Hermione."

"It's wonderful to meet you," he replied enthusiastically. "I'm Tom, bartender and owner of the Leaky Cauldron."

He moved his arm in a wide, sweeping motion, indicating the pub behind him. He gazed lovingly at it for a moment, and then turned back to them. Hermione struggled to repress a laugh.

"If you'll follow me," Tom continued "your Hogwarts host is waiting in the back room."

He led them down a hallway to a room with a crackling fireplace. A blonde woman dressed in deep purple robes and a short, pointed hat was seated in a plush chair. Across from her sat a middle-aged African man with a thin moustache. He too wore robes, though his were a dark, formal black.

"Madam Vector, Master Shacklebolt, may I introduce you to the Grangers?" Tom greeted the people in the room.

The women stood up and welcomed them with a polite smile. "Ah yes, the Grangers. Septima Vector," she said, shaking their hands. "I teach arithmancy at Hogwarts and I'll be your Diagon Alley guide for the day."

The man stood behind her as well and cleared his throat politely. "Well, Septima, I'll be off. "

"Yes, of course, Kingsley," she turned back to him. "It was nice talking with you."

"And you," He replied. "Kingsley Shacklebolt," his deep voice echoed as he too shook the Granger's hands. "I work in the ministry as an Auror, and I have an important duty to fulfill this afternoon. So sorry I couldn't stay and chat." And with a quick smile, Kingsley Shacklebolt was gone.

An Auror? Arithmancy? Hermione blinked, wondering if she had actually heard these strange people correctly. She had never known such odd words before. A growing knot in her stomach told her she had an incredibly vast amount to learn about the wizarding world. McGonagall had seemed to have barely skimmed the surface.

The women then indicated the door. "Shall we, then?" she asked. Septima Vector led them back into the pub's main room, but she made a sharp right and opened a heavy door to the alley behind the pub. She stepped back to allow the Granger's to walk into the alley. Hermione gave her a doubtful look and glanced at her parents uncertainly. Was this some sort of joke? How could this possibly be the famous Diagon Alley McGonagall had spoken of?

"Just through here…" Ms. Vector murmured as they stepped into the alley and she shut the door behind them. Then she pulled out a curious looking object from the inside her robes. It was a fairly long, thin piece of dark wood, though it seemed a handle had been carved out on one end.

"Alright," she began, holding the wood in her right hand and raising it up towards the stone wall of the alley. "Watch closely. I doubt this will be the last time you'll come to Diagon Alley, so I'm sure you will want to know how to get in for future visits."

Hermione obediently did as she said, her large amber eyes following the Hogwarts professor's every move. Ms. Vector laid the stick of wood against one of the grey bricks, then lifted it and began to tap. She moved on, touching seven bricks in total, following what appeared to be a very specific pattern.

"Three up, two across," Ms. Vector smiled to herself as she tapped. Hermione wondered what on earth she could possibly be talking about.

And then, before their very eyes, the wall magically began to move out of the way. The bricks twisted and spread apart, creating an archway opening in the alleyway. But Hermione quickly forgot about the bricks when she saw the scene before her.

A little cobbled street began just beyond the archway, before winding and twisting away from them and curving around a bend, out of sight. There were so many colors, shops, people – Hermione could hardly take it all in. Several stores lined either side of the twisting walkway, but none looked even remotely alike. Some were very old and had peeling wooden signs while others were bright and colorful. Some did not stand up straight but rather looked bent and leaning as they rose toward the sky, as though they were about to topple over. A few even had apartments above them, with little windows covered in shutters.

As she raked her eyes over the strange shops before them, Hermione noticed the people. The Alley was busy; there were several wizards and witches running this way and that. Some paused occasionally to talk with a shopkeeper or a friend. Hermione saw that they were not wearing normal clothing. Like Ms. Vector, they were all dressed in robes in all different colors, ranging from simple black to bright fuchsia pink. It was absolutely wonderful. Hermione was instantly in love with the bumbling wizarding village.

Ms. Vector was watching her with a warm expression, and it was then that Hermione realized she herself was beaming in happiness. Blushing, the young witch glanced down at her toes.

"Breathtaking, isn't it?" The Hogwarts professor said, sympathizing with Hermione's reaction. "Let's move on then…"

The Granger's stepped forward cautiously, following Ms. Vector down the street and into the bustling village. Behind them, the wall quickly re-sealed itself, bricks sliding this way and that to close the opening.

Navigating their way through the large crowd, the Granger's host led them to a white marble building that towered over all of the others. Fine lettering on the antique brass doors simply read: Gringotts.

"Gringotts first, of course," Ms. Vector said, speaking more to Adam and Anne then their daughter. "It's the wizarding bank. We'll set up an account for Hermione, and then you can exchange some of your muggle money into wizard currency. It will be stored in a vault for her, deep underground. Very secure, of course, these vaults."

Perplexed, Anne and Adam just nodded. Hermione quickly grew uninterested. At eleven years of age, nothing bored her more than financing and money. Sensing this, Ms. Vector pulled a small handful of coins out of her pocket.

"We'll only be twenty minutes or so, Hermione. If your parents will allow it, you can run over to that shop just there and buy yourself a treat." She pointed towards a blue-painted little store with bright green windows called 'Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor'. Then she proceeded to hand Hermione the coins.

Anne instantly began to protest at leaving her daughter alone, but Adam gave her a silencing look. "Go on, Hermione," he said to her. "We won't be too long, I'm sure."

Hermione's mother sighed, defeated. "Alright. I suppose you might as well have a look around…"

"Thanks, mum," Hermione smiled gratefully.

"We'll meet you just here in about twenty minutes," Ms. Vector told Hermione, before leading her parents through the bank's bronze doors.

Hermione bought a simple sundae in the ice cream parlor. Then she chose a plastic picnic table on the parlor's patio to sit and observe the life of Diagon Alley.

It was all so incredible that Hermione could hardly take it in. Here she was, right in the middle of the wizarding world. Her new home. This magical village was proof that McGonagall had told the truth; that Hermione really was a witch. Confirmation of this fact made the young Granger both excited and uncomfortably nervous.

A short time later, Hermione's parents came out of the bank's bronze doors, followed by Ms. Vector. Adam was clutching a small leather sack that jingled as he walked.

"Here you are," he said, handing his daughter the sack. "Money for your first term at Hogwarts."

"Wow! Thanks dad!" Hermione replied, smiling and suddenly feeling quite grown up. Her parents had never before entrusted her with such a great sum of money!

"You'll want to take out your Hogwarts supply list, now, that's it," Ms. Vector instructed Hermione. She did so, fumbling in her pocket for the envelope.

"What would you like to go and find first?" Ms. Vector asked.

Hermione unfolded the supply list and looked over it. In the same green ink as the original acceptance letter, the list read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

SUPPLY LIST

All first year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes, black

2. One plain, pointed hat for day wear, black

3. One pair of protective hand gloves, dragon hide or similar

4. One winter cloak, black with silver fastenings

And the following set books:

1. The Standard Book of Spells Grade One, by Miranda Goshawk

2. A History of Magic, by Bathilda Bagshot

3. Magical Theory, by Adalbert Waffling

4. A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, by Emerik Switch

5. One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, Phyllida Spore

6. Magical Drafts and Potions, by Arsendius Jigger

7. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, by Newt Scamander

8. The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self Protection, by Quentis Tremble

All students must be equipped with:

1. One wand

2. One standard, size two, pewter cauldron

And may bring, if they desire, an owl, a cat, or a toad.

Please note that first year students ARE NOT allowed their own broomstick.

When she came to the wand, Hermione realized what Ms. Vector's wooden stick must have been. A tool which witches and wizards used for magic! She suddenly grew excited.

"A wand," Hermione said. "I want to get a wand first."

"This way," Ms. Vector complied, setting off down the cobbled street. "Olivander's is the best wand shop you can find."

They approached a shabby looking shop that looked much older and was less colorful than the more modern buildings surrounding it. Faded gold lettering over the entrance read:

OLLIVANDERS

Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

Hermione entered first, followed by her parents and their host. The shop was just as musty and dark on the inside. A mysterious aura reached Hermione senses, and she shivered slightly.

Shelves lined the walls in every direction, not unlike a library. Instead of books, however, thousands of skinny boxes filled these bookcases.

"Hello," A smooth, quiet voice broke the silence. Hermione turned towards the source to find an old man standing there, perfectly still. He had eerily pale eyes, which were watching her with an almost curious expression. Hermione didn't know what to say.

The man's gaze finally shifted, and he looked past her.

"Ah! Septima Vector," the man grew suddenly more cheerful. "So wonderful to see you!"

Ms. Vector smiled politely, nodding her agreement. "And you as well, Mr. Ollivander."

"Ah… let's think…" the man continued. "Ten inches, I believe… birch, yes, with a unicorn hair. Incredibly flexible. Am I correct?"

Bewildered, Hermione spun to look at Ms. Vector. What on earth was the man talking about?

"Yes, you are," Ms. Vector nodded again. Then she reached into the folds of her purple and extracted the wooden stick from earlier; her wand. Mr. Ollivander took it between his thin fingers, twirling it lightly.

"Excellent condition," he murmured. "But, yes! On to business!" he returned the wand. "Who, might I ask, is this young lady?" he indicated Hermione and her family.

"These are the Grangers," Ms. Vector said. "And this is Hermione. She's a muggleborn."

"Oh, yes! Of course." Mr. Ollivander replied, much more cheerful now. He turned brightly to Hermione. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Um, I'm right handed?" Hermione answered softly, unsure of exactly how to respond.

"Excellent, excellent…" the man muttered, pulling out a tape measure from behind the counter. "Please hold out your arm," he instructed, and Hermione did so. He took several different measurements, and it was a few minutes before he finished.

Ollivander straightened up and dusted himself off. "Let's get you a wand, shall we?" He disappeared into the back of the shop, humming lightly to himself as he went. Hermione glanced back at her parents. Her father shrugged, nonplussed, while her mother's face was etched with confusion.

"Here we are," Mr. Ollivander had returned, carrying three of the skinny boxes. He set them on the counter, then opened the first and pulled out a stick not unlike Ms. Vector's. "Try this…" he proceeded to hand Hermione the wand.

She gripped the wood lightly, and as Mr. Ollivander, Ms. Vector, and her parents watched, Hermione did the only natural thing she could think of, and flicked the wand towards a small stack of parchment on the counter.

The parchment instantly flew up into the air and exploded, a mini mushroom cloud erupting in the middle of the shop. Standing with her jaw open and her cheeks bright red, Hermione was surprised to find Mr. Ollivander laughing.

"Well, unicorn hair is most certainly not for you," he concluded definitively, and replaced the wand in its box. "Let's try… this one. Dragon heartstring, made of willow. Rather stiff."

Far more cautiously, Hermione took the second wand. After a few moments, she waved it carefully at the floor, hoping not to cause as much damage. With no such luck, a floorboard popped out of its place and unceremoniously began to tear itself into shreds.

Hermione immediately thrust the wand back at Ollivander. "Hmm…" he said slowly, taking the wand and replacing it. "I'll be back in a moment." And he disappeared into the shop again. Minutes later, he returned with one more box. Lifting the lid, he pulled out another wand. This one was longer than the first two, made of a light colored wood. It was carved eloquently, so that a single wooden 'vine' was snaking around the rest of the wand.

"Vine wood," Ollivander murmured. "Dragon heartstring again, slightly more flexible…" He fingered the wand almost affectionately. "A well-rounded wand, excellent for many branches of magic…"

He held out the wand, and Hermione took it slowly. She gasped audibly when a sudden warming sensation trickled through her fingers. The hairs on her neck bristled and she shivered slightly. When she waved it, rather than causing severe destruction, the wand sent out a shower of bright green sparks, illuminating the musty store. Hermione couldn't help but beam.

"Perfect! Ah, just wonderful," Ollivander was also smiling. "That will be seven gold galleons."

Hermione handed him the wand, and he used a small vial of polish to clean it before re-packaging it in the box. As he did this, Ms. Vector helped Hermione find seven galleons in her sack of money, as she had no idea which coins were which just yet.

"Well, Ms. Granger," Ollivander said as he handed Hermione her package. "Have an excellent time at Hogwarts. I am sure we can expect great things from you in the future."

The eerie look returned to his face as he smiled slightly, turned, and moved back into the darkness of the shop.

Hello!! First off, I just want to say that I am INCREDIBLY SORRY for not updating sooner! I wanted to very badly, but unfortunately real life comes first. And let me tell you, my real life is VERY busy. I will attempt to update far more often, but I can obviously make no promises. I love writing this story and it pained me greatly to not be able to find adequate time to write another chapter in order to update. I will understand if you've lost interest and moved on, but it would still make me very happy and grateful if you could continue reviewing and offering feedback. For those of you that have stuck with the story and have waited anxiously for an update, thank you so much!

Anyways, onto the story. This is not my favorite chapter, which is probably why it took me so long to write. It's also quite a bit longer, if you didn't notice. I think it's a bit slow. I'm excited for Hogwarts because I think the story will be even more fun to write at that point. I'm also looking forward to sequels and such, if I get that far, so that I can write about Ron and Hermione ;).

Thanks for reviewing!:

ngayonatkailanman, Bittersweet x, ashleybAby (), Helena-Nickleby, FunkeyMonkeyLOL and bookworm1517

Chapter Notes:

*Like McGonagall, as Professor Vector is not yet Hermione's professor, she is referred to as Ms. Vector.

*I mean no disrespect to London at the beginning of this chapter! I've actually been to London, and I've been on the Underground, and I love them both.

*There are probably quite a few mistakes in this, such as grammar and possibly spelling. I've read over it, but I'm not sure I caught everything. So don't be afraid to point them out. It won't hurt my feelings :)

*Ollivander was really fun to write. I was going to have this chapter cover Hermione's entire time at Diagon Alley, but part of me felt like that would just make it drag on and get boring. So I ended with Ollivander, because I thought the wand scene was important.

*Hermione's wand is the actual one she used in the movie. If you look i up, many of the pictures have a wand with a carved sort of vine around it. Just thought it would be a cool little connection :D