"Just hold still," Dr Mary Granger said as she tried to manoeuvre the hot iron over the frizz splayed on the worn ironing board in the sitting room.
"I am!" fourteen-year-old Hermione Jean Granger said, ignoring the pain in her neck as she awkwardly hovered her head over the board.
"If you move, I may burn you," Mary said through clenched teeth. "And I don't want to do that."
"I'm trying not to," Hermione said, not hiding her annoyance any longer. Her neck hurt, and the smell of her burning hair was starting to make her extremely nervous. "It smells like it's burning," Hermione said through clenched teeth, trying desperately not to move. "Is it burning?"
"I don't think so?" The question in Mary's voice made Hermione flinch. After experimenting during the whole summer holidays for something to calm Hermione's frizzy hair, the Granger women decided to try an old-fashioned iron and ironing board. The patriarch of the family, Bert Granger, watched on from the other room, knowing better than to offer any advice or assistance. Even Hermione's bandy-legged orange cat, Crookshanks, knew not to interfere and stalked down the hall away from the soon-to-be disaster.
"What do you mean you don't think so?!" Hermione said shrilly, fighting the urge to immediately pull back and look into the mirror.
"It's fine. Everything's fine," Mary said quite unconvincingly.
"Just stop then!" Hermione said, yanking her head upright. The sudden movement caused the iron to slip and burn Hermione's forehead.
"Watch it!" Mary screamed, jumping back.
"Honestly!" Hermione gasped as she recoiled in pain. She immediately went over to the mirror to assess the damage. An angry red welt was beginning to appear on her forehead under her still, very frizzy hair. "This was a stupid idea."
"We used to iron our hair all the time when I was younger," Mary said as she picked up the iron and unplugged it from the wall.
"How there isn't a whole generation of women with burn scars all over their heads, I have no idea," Hermione exclaimed.
"Oh, we got burnt," Mary said. "We just learned how to hide the scars."
"But did the iron actually work on your hair? Were the burns worth it?"
"Well," Mary said, looking at Hermione's hair. "Yes. It usually worked. I'm not sure why your hair doesn't want to behave."
"Because it's utterly dreadful," Hermione said, near tears. She had found herself near tears a lot lately. Mary attributed it to "hormones," but Hermione didn't want to hear about that. There was much more to it than just ordinary puberty hormones: Hermione Jean Granger was a witch (and not just some self-proclaimed angsty teenage witch who wore all black and hated her parents and any authority figures). Hermione Jean Granger was an honest-to-goodness witch enrolled at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
When she was 11 years old, Hermione and other witches and wizards all over the United Kingdom received their Hogwarts acceptance letters. Because Hermione came from a Muggle (non-magical) family, her letter was accompanied by a "special messenger," Professor Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress, Transfiguration teacher, and ultimately Hermione's favourite professor at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall was able to explain to Hermione and her parents, Drs Mary and Bert Granger, all about the Wizarding World and Hermione's place within.
Ever since that first meeting, Hermione entered a magical whirlwind of brand-new experiences and adventures. Before she could even fathom the repercussions of what it really meant to be a witch, Hermione and her parents found themselves in Diagon Alley, a Wizarding shopping village, to get her magic wand and other materials she'd need for her magical education.
Even four years later, Hermione could still remember the feeling she had when she first stepped foot into the magical Wizarding world for the first time: she had found her proper place in the world. Hermione was home.
If you could believe it, Hogwarts was even better than she could have imagined. Hermione was a lover of all things educational, and learning about a whole other world full of history, traditions, and techniques was Hermione's dream come true.
Interestingly enough, Hermione wasn't sorted into the "bookish" Ravenclaw house of Hogwarts but instead into Gryffindor, the house of the brave. Very quickly, Hermione realised life wasn't all just about book smarts. There were things more important in life than being the smartest in the room.
Helping her to figure out life beyond books were her two best friends and fellow Gryffindors, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. Ron, a tall, lanky redhead with a proclivity for all things food, came from a pureblood Wizarding family with five older brothers and one younger sister (Ginny, another one of Hermione's best friends). While he certainly didn't take being a Wizard for granted, he didn't get as excited as Hermione about learning all the new things at Hogwarts. His studies were definitely not his top priority.
Harry Potter grew up in the Muggle world just as Hermione did, but there was a very big difference between the two: Harry Potter was the most famous Wizard of all time. When Harry was a baby, a very dark wizard who must not be named (Voldemort, if you must know) killed Harry's parents. He tried to kill Harry as well, but the killing curse backfired. He Who Must Not Be Named disappeared, seemingly forever. Harry was left unscathed, except for a lightning bolt scar on his forehead.
Life as Ron and Harry's best friend was certainly fraught with excitement. During their first year, they saved the Philosopher's Stone from a resurfaced He Who Must Not Be Named. The dark wizard had come back to try to steal it for eternal life. Hermione, Ron, and Harry thwarted his plan, and the dark wizard disappeared into the unknown again.
During their second year, a monster from the school's past was resurrected in yet another plot by He Who Must Not Be Named to return to power. The Chamber of Secrets housed the ancient monster of Salazar Slytherin, a basilisk that only the Heir of Slytherin could control. The basilisk was ordered to kill all Muggle-born students (which included Hermione). It was a race against time to figure out who had opened the chamber and released the monster. Hermione was unfortunately attacked, though she didn't die (nor did the other victims that year). Because she hadn't looked directly into the eyes of the deadly beast, she was only petrified. Harry and Ron figured out that the echo of a former student, Tom Riddle (who would eventually devolve into He Who Must Not Be Named), was the one controlling the beast and defeating them both.
Their third year was not much better in terms of danger and excitement. Sirius Black, an infamous prisoner of the Wizarding prison, Azkaban, escaped and was rumoured to be after Harry Potter. Black had been best friends with Harry's parents and was rumoured to have been the person who shared their secret location with You Know Who, so the Potters could be killed along with Harry.
Sirius Black eventually caught up to Hermione, Harry, and Ron, but they soon found out he wasn't who, or what, he seemed. In addition to being an unregistered animagus (a human that could change into an animal at will), he was entirely innocent of the treasonous crimes with which he was charged. It was, in fact, another friend of Harry's parents who betrayed them: Peter Pettigrew. Insanely enough, Peter was also an unregistered animagus and had taken the form of Ron's pet rat, Scabbers, for the last 11 years. Once the traitor was outed, Pettigrew fled, presumably to find He Who Must Not Be Named. Unfortunately, Sirius' proof of his innocence fled with the rat, and he, too, had to go back into hiding.
If all that wasn't enough excitement for one year, Hermione had been utilising a magical tool for the duration of the school year: a Time-Turner. A Time-Turner was a magical device used for time travel which resembled an hourglass on a necklace. Hermione was able to use the device to take multiple classes at once. As much as Hermione hated to admit it, she tried to do too much with the Time-Turner and nearly drove herself crazy with her workload. She took every class offered to third years and had to keep going back in time to keep up with all of the work, not to mention all of the classes scheduled at the same time. By the school year's end, Hermione was moments away from a nervous breakdown. She made the incredibly difficult- but correct- decision to give back the Time-Turner at the end of the year.
Hermione looked at the red welt on her forehead and hoped with all her might that it wouldn't scar. Some at school would make fun of her mercilessly if Hermione came to school with a scar similar to Harry's. Students from another of the other Hogwarts houses, the Slytherins, were generally not fans of Harry Potter or Hermione Granger. With the exception of Sophie Roper, a Slytherin student Hermione befriended in her Arithmancy class, Hermione could confidently say the Slytherins would take any opportunity to make fun of Hermione.
"Let me see," Mary said. "Oh, it's not too bad. It should heal up fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Sure, I'm sure," Mary said calmly. She pulled up her fringe and pointed to a spot on her forehead. "See here? This was a bad burn, but now you can barely tell."
"But you're, like, in your forties!" Hermione squeaked. "I don't have years for it to go away. I've got weeks!"
"We may have some creams at work that could speed along the process," Mary said. She and Bert were both dentists with their own practice in town.
Hermione willed her tears away. She knew she still had some Essence of Dittany in her school trunk. Still, she wondered if using its magical healing powers would violate the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, a bylaw of the British Ministry of Magic written in 1875 that banned underage magic outside of school. A trace was placed on all Hogwarts students to monitor the use of magic outside of school, so she knew she was being monitored. In fact, Hermione had already received an official notice for accidentally using magic during the summer holiday once before. The panic attack that followed receiving that notice was absolutely terrible, almost as terrible as it would be to go back to Hogwarts with a scar on her forehead. Hermione resolved to use the magical plant when she went upstairs.
"It's ok. I'll figure something out," Hermione replied, still upset even with a potential solution on the horizon. She forced herself to take a few calming breaths and tried not to worry about any lasting repercussions from her excessive time travelling that past year.
It was undoubtedly a realistic fear; Hermione had used the Time-Turner excessively, day after day, month after month. She had to have aged prematurely at best. She couldn't bring herself to think of the worst-case scenario. Nonetheless, she tried to push the thought from her mind for the twentieth time that day and focus on the problem at hand.
"So, what else do you think I could use on my hair?" Hermione asked her mother.
"I'm not sure," Mary said, eyeing her daughter's hair anew. "Maybe there's something they can recommend at the Beauty Box in town? We can go later this week and check."
"I don't understand why you're upset with your hair all of a sudden," Bert finally spoke up from behind his paper. "It's been like that your whole life. Not to say it isn't absolutely lovely," he added hastily.
"It's a frizzy mess!" Hermione said, trying to hide the crack in her voice.
"It's always been one," Bert said again, stubbornly. "I just don't understand why it is an issue now."
"You're impossible," Hermione said under her breath. There was no way her father, one of the most practical men in all of Britain, would ever understand how important it was that Hermione figure out a way to tame her frizzy hair. She had been a child with no need to look respectable. But now, at almost fifteen years old, Hermione knew it was time to grow up mentally and physically.
Hermione glanced at the clock - it was almost time for the daily post. Their postman, Finnegan, should be there soon. Hermione had a gift for Harry she wanted to get in the post so he'd get it in time for his birthday.
When Harry's parents were murdered, he went to live with his aunt and uncle, some of the world's worst muggles, and their grossly obese, demanding, selfish, manipulative, and most of all, extremely ungrateful son, Dudley. They kept Harry in a small closet under the stairs while showering their son with gifts and food for years before Harry finally was told what and who he was. Now with the threat of magical retaliation, the Dursleys were slightly better, though still horrible people. They had explained away Harry's long absences at Hogwarts over the last three years by telling everyone that he went to St Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys. If that wasn't absolutely insane, Hermione didn't know what was.
Hermione had long suspected the Dursleys did not feed Harry well over the years because he always came back to Hogwarts skinnier than ever. However, her fears were confirmed earlier this summer when she received a letter from Harry begging her for snacks:
Dear Hermione,
I hope your summer holiday is going well, and you are getting a lot of downtime now that you don't have the Time-Turner. No wonder you were tired all school year! I can't believe we didn't realise what you were doing. I want to learn more about the Time-Turner. For example, how far can you go back?
I don't mean to be a bother, but I was wondering if you could do me a favour. The Dursleys are putting Dudders on a diet, meaning the whole house has to be on a diet. If I eat another grapefruit quarter, I'll have to start doing underage magic.
Just kidding. Kind of. Can you send me some snacks to get me through the summer holidays?
Thanks, and can't wait to see you soon!
Harry
Hermione had raided her parents' pantry and sent Harry as many snacks as she could afford. Luckily for Harry, they were all sugar-free, so he wouldn't have to worry about tooth decay or cavities. Hermione was positive the Dursleys were not up on their routine dental care, especially where Harry's teeth were concerned. Harry's owl, Hedwig, wouldn't leave until Hermione placed the wrapped sweets in his mouth.
However, for his birthday, Hermione wanted him to have something special (and, to be honest, something that would make that terrible Dudley Dursley jealous), so she baked him a cake. Hermione was by far a much better witch than a baker, but the cake would suffice for all intents and purposes. All that was left was to tie up the parcel, put some stamps on it, and wait for Finnegan to pick it up.
She tied the cake in a bakery box and then placed that box in a bigger, more sturdy box that would stand up in the mail. On the sides, Hermione drew arrows with "This Way Up" written in a dark, bold marker. She could send the parcel by owl, the usual communication method of witches and wizards, but she thought Harry's aunt and uncle would not be happy if an owl were swooping around their house with a giant box in its beak.
Hermione sat down to pen a letter to Harry to accompany her cake. She also got him a small gift - nothing fancy - but something that would hopefully lift Harry's spirits until he could return home to the Wizarding World.
Dear Harry,
Happy birthday! I hope you've had some fun this summer, despite your aunt, uncle, and cousin. I also hope the sweets you requested helped you get through Dudley's diet.
Have you heard from Sirius lately? I hope he and Buckbeak were able to find a nice place to hide out. I can only hope the truth comes out someday so that you can go and live with him as your parents had wished.
I'm getting very excited about the Quidditch World Cup next month. Yes, I know what you're thinking: I'm not a true fan. However, I think it will be fascinating to experience a worldwide Wizarding event! Have you broached the subjects with your aunt and uncle yet?
If you need anything else, please don't hesitate to ask. You can reach me either by owl or post. I figured the post would be safer for your birthday since you'll probably be getting multiple things.
Miss you lots and see you soon!
Hermione
She tucked the note inside the parcel and waited for Finnegan, the postman. Hermione had to admit that she had a slight crush on the blond-haired, blue-eyed Irishman, but she always seemed to completely wreck every conversation they had. One of her roommates at Hogwarts, Parvati Patil, had once tried to help her be a bit more social, but they had grown apart over the years. In their second year, Parvati suspected Harry was commanding the basilisk to attack students; Hermione never quite forgave her.
Another reason that Finnegan made her flustered was that she was utterly convinced he was a Wizard. Still, fear of violating the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy kept her from asking him outright. Finn always seemed to have some sort of comment with just the right amount of ambivalence that Hermione had to continue to question. Rationally, she knew there was no way a Wizard would have such a Muggle-oriented job, but there was always a slight possibility.
She didn't have to wait long - Hermione heard him before she saw him. He was whistling the theme song to Postman Pat, a beloved British stop-motion animated television series Hermione watched on a loop when she was younger. The theme song sometimes helped to calm her down when she had her usual panic attacks, especially when Crookshanks was out on a hunt or otherwise not in a cuddling mood.
"Alright, Hermione?" Finn said as he spotted her outside.
"Hey Finn, how are you?" Hermione answered, suddenly very aware of her frizzy hair again. She could feel him staring at it.
"Not too bad," Finn looked around. "Beautiful day. Can't complain."
Hermione just nodded awkwardly. Words seemed to have failed her. She could feel her cheeks flushing and a fluttering feeling in her stomach. Hermione fought the urge to swat down her frizzy hair.
"Got a parcel for me, ya?" Finn continued.
"Oh, yes! I do! I think I have enough postage on it."
Finn took the parcel out of Hermione's hands and took a quick look. "Seems to be about right, but I'll weigh it when I get back to the office," he said. "If you're short, I'll spot ya."
"Thank you," Hermione said, her face turning red. She tried to brush her hair out of her eyes without bringing attention to it, but her fingers got stuck in a tangle.
"No studying today, eh? Finally taking a holiday for once?"
"What? Oh, no," Hermione said. "I have some things to work on this evening. I just didn't want to miss you - miss giving this to you," Hermione stuttered.
"So, who's this Harry bloke? Yer boyfriend?" Finn said with a grin.
"No, he's my best friend," Hermione said quickly, though she had no idea why.
"Good to know," Finn said.
"We go to school together," Hermione added, hoping to get Finnegan to comment.
"That secret school o' yers, eh?" Finnegan said, looking Hermione straight in the eye.
"Yes, that one. Do you know it?" Hermione asked brazenly.
"I may 'ave heard of it, yeah," Finnegan said, winking.
"I thought you may," Hermione said.
"Oh, did ya now, lassie," Finn said with a twinkle in his eye.
Hermione's heart was hammering in her chest. Was Finnegan finally admitting to being a Wizard?
"Well, I best be on my way!" Finnegan said, tucking Harry's cake under his arm.
"Wait!" Hermione said. Finn stopped and turned back to face her expectantly. Hermione's mind went blank.
After a few awkward moments, Finnegan smiled and winked. "To answer yer question, yes, I am… but let's keep that between us, eh?" And with one more wink, Finn turned and walked down the path to Hermione's neighbour's house.
Hermione let out the breath she had been holding and ran back inside to plug in the iron again.