Hermione spent the morning mooching around and waiting uneasily for something unusual to happen. She didn't even touch her books, just waited at the window. Surely the owl would return? And it'd better return with a reply for her. But Hermione wasn't really sure what else to do.
Around nine in the morning, she'd had enough. She grabbed a piece of notebook paper and scrawled out a note to herself before sticking it out the window and saying, "Letter!". Nothing happened. She scowled before calling out, "Letter for Hogwarts!"
The same thing occurred today as had occurred yesterday; a feathered blur swept in and perched on the sill, and Hermione still hyperventilated. That was odd. Maybe this mail system was only for school letters? The bird did have something attached to it though, which Hermione hastened to untie. It looked at her with consternation when she failed to attach another note soon after and she gave an apologetic smile. It flew away and she immediately felt foolish. What kind of person apologized to a bird anyways?
She supposed that she did now, and it seemed like the right thing to do, so maybe witches and wizards did. Oh, she wanted to have lots of books about all of this! Books made sense, and they would help her make sense of this situation.
Hermione picked up this new letter, checking the back and verifying that it was indeed adressed to her. Her name was written in the same way as yesterday, but in green ink today. She fumbled with the seal but was so impatient that she tore the envelope to get the letter out, which was something that just wasn't done by Hermione. But desperate times called for desperate measures.
The letter was pretty brief, congratulating her on her acceptance and informing her that term began September 1st, nearly a year from now. Why would they send her the letter now, though? Nothing really special had happened recently. Just a test in math on Tuesday and her birthday on Wednesday. And an 11th birthday was hardly an extraordinary milestone. Plus, they probably didn't even know when her birthday was. Her address could be found in a directory, but dates like that didn't typically pop up there.
More excitingly, it informed her that supplies could be purchased at Diagon Alley, accessible by Floo (whatever that was supposed to mean) or by an entrance at the Leaky Cauldron Pub in London. Hermione smiled; finally she had something to go on!
Her smile faded as she realized that she really didn't, not without explaining this to her parents. Few parents would be pleased to drop their 11-year old daughter off at a pub in the middle of London with no explanation and the Grangers were no exceptions.
Taking a deep breath, Hermione grabbed both her letters and left her room and went downstairs, where her parents were relaxing in the living room, reading the weekend paper.
"Mum? Dad? I have something I need to talk to you about."
They both slowly put down their papers and looked up at her patiently.
"I think that I'm a witch."
Her parents both looked very confused, and Hermione reflected that she really could have led with something else.
"I'll start again. Could the two of you read these letters to yourselves? It'll make this all so much easier."
She perched on a chair in awkward silence as her parents devoured the letters before looking up at her, eyes laughing.
"What a funny joke, Hermione," her mother laughed. "What drove you to come up with this."
She looked at them, frustrated, but knowing that their reactions were no different than her own had been. Most normal, rational people would dismiss the idea of magic as a mere joke. Hermione tried her best to explain the situation with the owls (she didn't dare to broach the floating desk incident), but her parents were still chuckling about it. She grabbed her note from earlier and opened the window.
"If you don't believe me, I'll show you!" she said, thrusting her hand out and calling out the window again. The owl appeared, causing her parents to jump. It looked thoroughly put out, and she whispered a quiet apology to it before turning back to her parents.
They leaned forward, clearly far more interested in what she had been saying.