"You don't believe me?" Tom challenged with a competitive stare.
He gave a sideways glance as if to confirm they were alone and then suddenly her book was pulled from her arms. He had summoned the book unexpectedly in a demonstration of his "magic" as her eyes nearly popped.
Tom caught the book and then immediately gave it back to her. "There, I hope I've earned an apology. Take it as a gesture of goodwill and trust in me if you will…"
She was quite speechless but fought hard to say something.
"I think I'm owed an actual apology on somewhat more contrite terms" she said crossly folding her arms. "Do you act in this way towards everyone, and is it just because I supposedly have magical powers that I am some kind of exception to you?"
His brows furrowed in frustration as he seemingly found it hard to digest what he had just heard. But he swallowed and gave in whatever pride he was trying to retain.
"Fine. You're right, I apologise sincerely for your mistreatment. I shouldn't have stolen your book but I really wanted to get my hands on what muggles have recorded about-"
"Muggles?" she cut in. "What's a muggle?"
With an air of superiority, he whispered in her ear that muggles were different precisely because they couldn't do magic.
"You must have noticed that you and I stand out as oddities and that we act and are treated differently. Neither of us like to interact with the other children really."
She couldn't really deny that observation even though she had always thought it was a consequence of far more mundane differences between herself and others.
But when Hermione thought back at what she could remember from her early childhood, there were little incidents that frightened the other children and herself as well that she could never explain. That too might have played some role.
Her curiosity was piqued. Just why she was going to go meet a boy alone who had erstwhile and very successfully bullied her was beyond her. It could be a trick, another chance to torment her away from prying eyes. This was clearly not wise on her part, yet something kept urging her on.
His somewhat mechanical apology for her torment allayed her worries for now. And she couldn't exactly deny what she had just seen with her own eyes.
The boy, Tom, knew how to play her as well and kept teasing information that only he knew that he could share with her IF she indulged him. And that's why she found herself skipping her usual after school book club and was walking with him.
The excitement was palpable in Tom as he felt at last there was someone he could confide, show off his magic and mould. He felt like he had found the most amusing plaything possible in his discovery of this girl.
"Have you done similar things before?" he asked in a demanding tone. She hesitated and considered his question. There was now a looseness and friendliness about him that was in complete contrast to what had occurred before.
She was used to bullying, but she had never felt intimidated like that to be honest. She had to learn to be more assertive around him if his was just an act.
"Sometimes." After all, they had both seen it.
He just nodded quickly.
"I'm going to teach you how to control it. It was like this for me too at first, when you felt you could make things happen but you weren't sure-"
"I can make books float down to me, if I really want to read them but I can't reach them," Hermione said suddenly. "When I was really young and I hadn't taken any swimming lessons yet I fell into a pool but I just sort of floated…"
Tom burst out laughing but then caught himself. "Well there you go, you really are a witch. That's the term we use for ourselves anyways. I'm a wizard."
They had reached that little patch of woodland that everyone who lived here called the "Little Wood." This was in contrast to Big Wood which was several times larger right next to it.
Tom and Hermione both knew that the area was not frequented very often. After all, there were far larger parks around that they had both visited before that this patch hardly warranted any attention. But at the same time, there were enough trees and shrubs to offer basic privacy.
"Oak, Hornbeam, and Wild Cherry," Hermione recited remembering from a book she had read on identifying tree types. "Chequers, bramble, and ivy." Tom merely raised his eyebrow at this as he surveyed the ground.
Little Wood was also used as an open-air theatre for the local amateur dramatic troupe who put on plays like Shakespeare from time to time. Apart from those occasions however, it was desolate as expected.
He was excited to show her. "Want to see what I can do? Do you see that tawny owl sleeping in that tree hollow?" When Hermione nodded, Tom began to focus.
The owl awoke and then flew towards them as Hermione let out a shriek and backed away but Tom merely stuck out his arm for the owl to land and began stroking its feathers.
"Don't worry, I control her every motion now. She's heavy… Here, I'm going to command her to fly onto your shoulder now."
An instant later, Hermione was craning her head to watch the somewhat beautiful bird as she stood motionless against her shoulder. She knew it wasn't natural; the bird didn't move an inch without Tom's command but she marvelled at the extent of his control.
At Tom's command, the bird then flew off her shoulder and back to the hollow where she went back to sleep in an instant. Given that owls were nocturnal animals, she had to believe what Tom was saying.
"That was… wonderful," she struggled for words. "Did you say you were going to teach me how to control it?"
Tom shrugged then picked up a small pebble off the ground. "Try to levitate this off your palm. Focus your mind completely on it, and block out all distractions. Concentration is key."
But she couldn't do it, even after she concentrated so hard she began to suffer a headache.
"Don't worry about it," Tom said although he was clearly disappointed. "We'll try again someday."
Then, Hermione felt the pebble turn blazing hot and as she moved to dump it in panic to the foliage covered floor, it rose miraculously off the surface of her palm.
The excitement broke her concentration however, and it soon fell, heavier than expected to the floor. It did not bounce. For some reason, that light pebble had seemed extraordinarily heavy for just an instant and it appeared to give off a glow.
Hermione was sweating profusely and panting from her exertions and Tom was staring at her with a look of pride in his eyes.
"Well done," he simply said quietly. "It gets easier and easier the more you practice."
And thus Hermione learned all she could about the existence of the magical world from Tom. She could infer, however, there were serious gaps to what he knew that he freely acknowledged.
It would explain why they couldn't be found if they kept themselves deliberately concealed and they used magic to do so. But Hermione was not prone to believing in things without solid proof even though it was a comforting thought to believe they weren't alone with their powers.
All in all her skepticism was showing and this annoyed Tom greatly. "You do know, I've found a way to test my hypothesis and it's fool-proof. But apart from that, it was my mother who told me."
"Your mother?"
"She was a witch. She died when I was little," Tom replied with a glare. "She isn't wrong about this. And I'll prove it to you."
"Another thing she said. You mustn't show your magic deliberately to any muggle because it's against wizarding law. I got in trouble and a witch from the Ministry, that's their government, threatened me."
She still wasn't sure whether he was playing her again or whether he was being sincere. However, the memory of the loss of his mother could have affected his judgement. But she hadn't known Tom was an orphan either.
"I've also learnt there's a school," Tom continued gesturing around the empty arena. "Believe me now. I don't know when the invitation will come, but it won't be long now."
Hogwarts, the name sent a shiver down her spine and it set off an indescribable tingling of anticipation.