Note: Trigger warning: talk of physical child abuse in this chapter. Please read with caution.

~ Sydenham - The Haven Home for Girls ~

~ June 1st 1991 ~

~Hermione Jean Granger's POV ~

The sunlight streamed through the small attic window, lighting the small, damp and dust ridden space brightly. It had long seen better days. Many of the wooden beams were riddled with rot. There were holes in the floor, the corridor below visible in patches and whatever space available not at risk of falling down to the rooms below was filled with box upon box of files and other items that had been left behind by past children of the home. Each box a piece of history, filled with hidden knowledge of the world and the inhabitants of The Haven that had come before her, ripe for the picking.

It was the reason she stole herself up here for the majority of her days when she wasn't at meals or classes. The fact that none of the other girls would dare follow her up here was an added bonus. For Hermione found much more pleasure in books than she did people. People and being around said people was something she avoided most religiously. Not that she had always been that way but after 3 failed foster homes and two failed adoptions, not to mention the couple that had actually adopted her at age six only to return her to the orphanage that had become her one constant at age seven and a half because she was too strange. She had soon found herself placing little stock in other people because she had come to learn that trusting in others would only ever lead to her own heartache at the inevitable rejection she would face from them. So she had withdrawn from the social norm of building relationships with actual people and immersed herself in books. Taking comfort in all the knowledge they had provided, and up here in the attic she had a world of knowledge to explore in those boxes, hidden from the continued disappointment she felt at humanity.

It was long ago, that she had found her own files. Located in a small cardboard box that was covered in dust. She had been curious to know what knowledge the orphanage had on her. They didn't hold much she didn't know already, much to her disappointment. The only new information she had found came in the form of the thick baby blankets she had been wrapped in the day she was left at the orphanages door step. Both were thick and soft. A pink one and a lilac one. The lilac one contained three initials that made no sense to her. A.A.D stitched elegantly in the corner. The pink one was plain but both looked expensive despite the dust that clung to them. She had taken them of course. Refusing to put them back in the dusty little box from whence they had been stored. They were the only tangible link she had to her parents and she had washed them, vowing to keep them with her wherever she went.

In the box there was also a letter. Written in ink rather than pen, that merely stated that her name was Hermione. Her birthday was November 19th 1981 and that her parents did not want to be traced by her in the future. As the family she was born into did not want anything to do with her. When she had first read it, she had barely turned eight and the words had stung deeply.

Sinking into her mind and heart with a venom that promised to linger.

It had.

Even now the recollection of those words echoed painfully. It seemed to be the cement that held her distrust for others firmly in place.

She held people at arms length now. Particularly after the Granger's had abandoned her back here merely a year after they had legally adopted her. The 'strangeness' that always followed her had been too much for them to tolerate. Dr's Graham and Jean Granger were strict, no nonsense individuals who ran their own Dentistry Practice. She had done all she could to be the perfect well behaved daughter they had wanted but despite her manners, her studious mind and her warm personality they had given her back. The strange incidences that she seemed to cause whenever she had felt any strong emotions about something made them fear her, only increasing the issue as over the year she felt them pull further and further away from her. She witnessed them grow more distant and detached with every incident. Where they had once been warm, affectionate and tender in the beginning. They became distant, emotionally cold and never got within a foot of her as if they feared she would harm them.

Not that she had ever harmed anyone when the incidents happened.

They had all been perfectly harmless incidents. Flowers growing up walls. Electronic devices breaking without cause. Items flying in the air without being touched. She found them magical and often when they happened her amazement and wonder was enough to calm her.

However the Grangers found it "freakish" and as a result all she had left to remember her almost happily ever after was their name. Now permanently attached to her own singular first name that had been given too her by her birth parents.

Her name being called from the ground floor was enough to distract her from her inner musings and her book - American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis (because she had to read from the local libraries adult section to even slightly challenge her intellect.) Matron Eleanor's voice sounded impatient but just as loud as usual. The booming gravely tone startling her whenever she had to hear it. The woman - a plump woman with her hair tied up tightly in a bun was not much taller than Hermione. But despite her stature the brunette knew not to cross her or deviate from behaviour deemed by Matron as proper for a young lady. Her punishments were cruel and never failed to have you regretting your actions almost instantly. Many a time as a younger child she had ended up belted and made to stand for hours on end in dark corners. Though the worst punishment she had ever received was the day she was abandoned back at the orphanage by the Granger's. Matron had been livid and proceeded to belt her while lecturing her on ruining her only chance of having a family as no one would want her now. An abandonment after adoption was unheard off and to have one against her name would warn any potential family off. She had then been made to stand in the corner of Matrons office for seven hours. Her back throbbed, raw with pain from the welts and her legs felt as if they had seized afterwards. The following week she was only permitted to eat one slice of bread and drink one small cup of water per day. By the end of it she was dehydrated, starving and livid with the world around her. The dorm room walls had become over grown with white Narcissus flowers by the end of that night. Labelling her more strange than already deemed. Though her punishment seemed to soften her dorm mates to her slightly. Where they had once relentlessly bullied her for her strangeness they now steered clear of her, and when they did interact with her she was treated with a weird sense of pity, something she despised more than she did the bullying.

Such was the story of her life though. She was Hermione Jean Granger, the strange girl. She sighed, standing quietly and tucking her book behind a box before climbing down from the attic through the small square hole, closing the latch behind her. When she reached the bottom of the stairs she dusted off her uniform skirt and her blouse from any dust or wrinkles. Quickly checking that the wild brunette curls she sported at the top of her head were neatly pulled back into a ponytail. Matron hated when she had her hair down or loose. Hermione didn't care but she much preferred avoiding trouble.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of Matron and a rather acentric looking older woman. Matron looked flabbergasted, wary and more than a little confused while the stranger looked unamused and slightly uncomfortable as her gaze wandered the downtrodden hallway furnishings. She was wearing an emerald green cloak that covered the majority of her body, though from what Hermione could see of what was under it, she had on a matching dress that fell to her feet, her black boots just barely visible below the hem. A large black, pointed hat atop her head and her brunette locks were pulled back tightly in a bun at the base of her neck. It was an odd look, one Hermione hadn't seen before and it filled her inquisitive young mind full of questions.

"Ah, Hermione there you are girl. This woman, Professor McGonagall, has come to speak with you regarding your future education. You may take her to the study. You shan't be disturbed in there" matron cuts her off before she gets the chance to voice any of those questions and the youngster supposes that it may have been for the best. She would have been scolded for being so rude as to impose her questions on an elder. No matter what clothes they wore.

The strange looking woman offered her a warm smile, a much more genuine and gentler expression than what she had seen so far and Hermione found herself returning it. Offering her Matron a polite nod in return to her statement before leading the way. They traipsed the corridor down to the very end, the wooden door that signified Matrons study half open, the light from inside ominously pouring out into the hallway. Beckoning her to enter.

She wasted no time on hesitation, unsure of who this strange woman was and therefore unwilling to let show her fear of this very room. She drew herself up, setting her shoulders as she ensured she walked with grace. Like a proper young lady, they had been taught how to walk, how to talk and how to act so she drew upon those skills now. Wearing them as her armour against the unknown.

"Hermione, it's lovely to meet you, my name is Minerva McGonagall, deputy Headmistress and the Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and Wizardry. I've come to discuss you attending in September" the strange woman began as soon as they were both seated. Causing Hermione to stare at her curiously, an eyebrow raised in question. Unwilling to let more than that slip through as an obvious sign of her hopeful curiosity before she knew exactly what this woman was talking about.

As far as Hermione was concerned the woman may as well have been speaking a different language altogether. Witchcraft and Wizardry? She'd never heard of such a school before, never mind been invited to one.

"If I may ask dear has things ever happened around you that you do not understand or have no explanation for? Have things floated or flowers grown without prompt when you are particularly emotional?" As she spoke the professor let her magic reach out, lifting items gently from the desk and causing the half dead plant in the corner of the room to rebloom. Hermione nodded, both comprehension and excitement beginning to grow on her face as she watched the woman's display.

"Yes ma'am, it happens fairly often, has done since I was a small child. Matron says it's something I've always done, said there's something strange within me to cause it, are you saying that's truly magic? That I possess magic?" She exclaimed, her mind having added up the school name and this woman's questions. Momentarily forgetting to act like a lady as her excitement shone through.

"I am indeed, saying you possess magic. You have been invited to join our incoming first year's in September if that is something you wish for. Your matron has already agreed to let you go."

Hermione's mind exploded with questions and thoughts at that reply, her excitement growing and multiplying, almost palpable in its extreme as that strangeness inside her she now knew to be her magic swelled in response to the knowledge. She beamed excitedly. Smiling at this woman who was without her knowledge giving her a new sense of hope and inadvertently saving her from the monotonous teachings of the Haven's daily lessons.

"I would love to go" Hermione replied her voice filled with wonder, coming out as a breathless plea rather than the confident affirmation she had meant it to be. Unaware of the white Nymphaeaceae flowers that had began to bloom along the walls behind her head.

The woman smiled at her and Hermione could see the warm twinkle shine within green eyes as the woman nodded in response, not drawing attention to the child's display of accidental magic. "We will be glad to receive you Hermione, though you are I will admit a little younger than our usual incoming students. Not by much but you will only be ten while all the other first years will be eleven or twelve. But you strike me as an ambitious witch so I have little doubt that you will be more than able to handle the year"

Cocking her head to the side in confusion, the young girl, furrows her brow as she thinks over the professors words. "Forgive me my curiosity, Matron says it's a trait most unbecoming for a young lady but is there a reason I am to be allowed entry a year earlier than the other students ma'am?" She questions softly, trying to reel herself in.

"The head master, Professor Dumbledore has informed me it is because upon your birth our records indicated that early admittance would be a necessity for you as our register showed you to be performing high levels of accidental magic from the time you were only a few months of age, something quite uncommon in a muggle-born" at the brunette girls confused look Professor McGonagall smiles softly again. Unable to help herself at just how inquisitive and intellectual this little witch presented. It was endearing to see such a young mind eager to learn.

"In our world there is commonly three classes that an individual witch or wizard fits into. Some put more stock into it than others. A pureblood is the term used to describe a magical individual that has parents who are both magical themselves and can trace their magical lineage through generations. A half blood is a witch or wizard born to one pure blood parent and one non magical individual and Muggle-born is the term used in the magical world for a witch or wizard born to non magical parents or muggles as they are referred too" she explains, unable to suppress yet another smile from crawling across her usually stern features at the understanding shining in brown attentive eyes. Definitely eager to learn Minerva thought.

After talking for another hour, where each class was explained briefly and the older witch answered any and all questions she had and Hermione had agreed to accompany the professor into the magical world in London to get her supplies the very next day, Hermione retreats back to her little reading space in the attic. Eager to digest her conversation.

It felt good to know finally why so much happened around her that was until now, unexplainable. Even better to know that she wasn't strange or a freak, and she most definitely wasn't the only one to possess magic. She only had a few months before she would be going to Hogwarts where she would get to meet others like her. It was an exciting thought. To know that there was so much more knowledge to gain waiting for her outside these four walls. Where she could grow and learn without fear of Matrons punishments, somewhere new and exciting, where no one knew her. Where she wouldn't be the strange one. The girl that caused odd events to happen all around her.

It was a second chance in her eyes, a future where she wouldn't be alone or ostracized, where she wouldn't be the odd one, it made her heart jump with joy. Filling her with hope and more excitement than she knew what to do with.

She sighed as she glanced out the attic window, the sun still high above her, shinning brightly. September couldn't come quick enough and until then, she could content herself with the knowledge that tomorrow she would get her first glimpse at her new world.

That night as she lay in bed she slept peacefully, for the first time since she had been abandoned back at the orphanage by Mr and Mrs Granger. Her young heart full of the promise of a better tomorrow and a whole new world to explore.