Hey everyone! Like I said last time, sorry about the wait on this update. I was out of town for a wedding. Also, it turns out I DID have appendicitis and I had to get surgery, so that slowed down the writing process as well. But the next drabble has finally arrived! Enjoy :)!

**Word: Myth** This drabble takes place pre-series. Hermione is my favorite character, so I really wanted to write something from her POV. Also, I've always been curious about how the Muggleborns handle finding out about Hogwarts (mostly because I was hoping for a Hogwarts letter myself lol). The result? A drabble about Hermione receiving her letter. Read on!

"Hermione, what was in that letter?"

I hear my Mom in the hallway but I don't respond. Can't respond. I stare down at the letter gripped in my shaking hands.

Dear Miss Granger,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

I won the school spelling bee last year and knew more words than any of my classmates, but I still couldn't get that sentence to make sense.

Witchcraft and wizardry?

Magic was a myth. I knew that. A lot of the other kids at my school still believed in magic, but I wasn't like them. I had considered the logic of magic four years ago and had come to the conclusion that it could not exist.

There was no way Santa Claus could make it to every house in the world in one night. Bunnies had live babies; they couldn't lay eggs, and especially not chocolate ones. And if cupid really shot you with an arrow, you would probably die, and at the very least you'd have to go to the hospital.

So how could I explain the very real letter in my hands?

My first thought was that it was a joke. But I didn't have any friends at school, so I couldn't think who it would be from.

I almost hoped it was a cruel prank being played on me, but I didn't have any enemies at school either. The only thing the other kids knew about me was that I was the smart girl with bushy hair and buck teeth.

None of them would have bothered to do this.

But the letter wasn't real. It couldn't be real.

I knew how magic tricks were done. My parents took me to my first and only show when I was seven years old, at a small carnival passing through town. They sighed and rolled their eyes when we left and I turned to them and told them that I was sure the show was fake. I was expecting them to be impressed, to be thankful that I had opened their eyes to a silly show they clearly believed in, but my mother just scooped me up and said, "I know, sweetie, but sometimes I wish you had a little more magic in your life."

I didn't understand what she meant by that. Magic wasn't real, so it had no place in life. I thought that I just needed to make my parents understand that, and then they'd see that I was right. So I set out to figure out how the magic tricks were done. It took me a couple weeks worth of trips to the town's library after school, but eventually I managed it.

That night, I held a magic show for my parents. When I invited them, their eyes lit up and I knew that I had finally done the right thing.

So I performed the tricks and they clapped and cheered and then I showed them the real way they were done. They seemed confused and my Dad said, "But Hermione, you're not supposed to show how the tricks are done. It's supposed to be magic!"

It was my turn to be confused. "But Daddy, Mommy, I'm trying to show you that they're fake, so that you understand that magic's not real!"

My parents sighed again and it seemed like I heard that noise a lot. "Okay, well thank you for showing us, baby," my Mom said and kissed me on the cheek. My Dad smiled at me. And yet I couldn't help but feel like I'd disappointed them somehow.

Would they be proud when they saw this letter? Would they see it as proof that they were right all along? I wanted to find a way to prove that it was fake before I showed them, before they got their hopes up and I had to tear them down again.

I sat down on the edge of my bed and began examining the letter. It was written on paper thicker than the stuff I had in my notebook at school. The writing was in something that looked like the paint the other kids used sometimes in art class. I refused to use the paint, and the teacher let me draw instead. Painting was for babies, I liked to draw my pictures with the orange pencils Mommy bought for me. She'd asked if I wanted to buy some sparkly ones, but that was just silly. All the adults I knew used orange pencils, and so I would too. But I'd never met an adult who had writing like that on the letter. It was loopy and scratchy. At the same time, it looked fancy and old. I'd never seen anyone write anything like this.

And so, the only conclusion I could come up with was that this letter came from somewhere or someone I'd never come close to experiencing before. But what? Who?

The word 'magic' seemed to flash across my mind in the big letters Mommy used on the posters for our yard sale, but I pushed it away. Magic was a myth. Something from the fairytales Mom and Dad used to read to me before I started insisting on history books. Now my princesses fought wars and were forced into marriage, instead of fighting evil witches and finding princes. And that was how I liked it. Because that was what was real. That was what adults read.

But there was a tiny part of me, a part that I had never met, a part that probably only came into being when I opened that letter, that hoped that I was wrong, that hoped that the letter was real.

Then I heard a loud crack and looked up into the brown eyes of an adult unlike any I'd seen before. He was wearing a bright green top hat that was slightly lopsided and matching green robes that were looking windswept.

I knew better than to trust strangers, so I backed up on my bed, but there was something in the kind understanding in his smile that made me feel like I'd finally found where I belonged.

That man was named Jack Fowler and was a friend of Professor McGonagall's, the woman who wrote the letter still clutched in my hands. That man would forever change my life.

The next few weeks would pass by in a blur of impossible magical acts, stories about a beautiful castle, and explanations that couldn't make sense. The only things that I remembered clearly from that time were my mother's happy tears and my father's blinding smile. They were so relieved, so on board with the whole thing.

Me? I wasn't so sure. The situation seemed to be like one of those fairytales, come to life around me. And, as I already knew, those fairytales didn't really exist. But no matter how many times I closed my eyes and pinched my arm, I never woke up. The magic around me never disappeared. I was lost and confused and I didn't know what I thought about any of this, so I threw myself into the one aspect of this mess that made sense to me.

Jack had said that Hogwarts was a school, where I would study and learn just like I did now. I buried myself in my new school books, learning anything and everything about this world. If there was one thing I knew how to do, it was how to learn and how to be prepared. As I read, the facts began to fall into place and magic began to make more sense. There were rules and laws behind it, there was more to it than waving a wand and saying some funny words. There were things that were possible and things that weren't. And there were logical explanations explaining why. I liked that. And so I read.

But it wasn't until I finally looked up into the ceiling of Hogwarts' Great Hall, it wasn't until I saw for myself the magic I had read so much about, that I finally understood that incomprehensible sentence my Mom had said all those years ago. In that moment, I was so glad that I had some magic in my life.

AN: I hope you liked it! Please leave me a review and let me know what you thought. And if you have any word requests, I'd love to take them! Thanks guys, I'll be back Friday!

Special thanks to my two reviewers last week, PotterheadFangirl14 and an anonymous reviewer. I loved hearing your thoughts!