Hermione didn't sleep that night. She used Mr Ollivander's kettle to brew a strong cup of black tea, then cast the speed reading charm on herself. It took a few attempts to get it right, but when she succeeded, the results were magnificent. Reading a page of text took only moments, allowing her to flip through books in minutes. The first book she read discussed dragon breeding. The next turned out to be a novel featuring a convoluted centaur wedding that ended in a gruesome tragedy. As she finished a third book, the charm faded, leaving Hermione rubbing her eyes. She cast the spell again and began flipping through a tattered copy of the international statute of secrecy printed in the late eighteenth century.

By the time Ollivander woke the next morning and came down to his shop, Hermione's eyes were painfully dry, and her head throbbed with the combined pressure of repeated castings of the speed reading charm and the avalanche of information the spell had allowed her to read. Mr Ollivander examined the stack of books she had completed before waving his wand, sending them flying back to their original places on the shelves.

Vision slightly blurry, eyes itching like mad, Hermione looked up at Ollivander and asked an important question. It had nothing to do with Wizarding history or wands, though she was tempted to ask about those subjects after learning new information during her night of reading.

Instead, knowing she needed to return home that afternoon, Hermione asked, "Can I exchange galleons for British pounds at Gringotts Bank?"

"I believe so," Ollivander said uncertainly, "But if it's paper muggle money you need, take some of mine."

Blushing, Hermione tried to explain that she wasn't seeking a handout, but Mr Ollivander ignored her, walking back up the stairs before returning with a brown leather briefcase.

"Sir," Hermione said uncomfortably as Ollivander opened the briefcase, "I'll just go to Gringotts, I'm not asking for charity."

"Pish-posh," he said dismissively, tossing something towards her, "It's essentially worthless to me.

Hermione caught the thrown object instinctively. With awe, she looked down at the Queen's stern face and realized it was a thick stack of bills. She flipped through the stack seeing it was mostly twenties, but she did spot a few fifties and even a couple of hundred pound notes.

Coming to her senses, Hermione tossed the money onto the floor as though it had burned her, exclaiming, "I can't take this! Why do you have this? Did you steal it?"

Ollivander chuckled, "Of course not, I…" he trailed off, expression growing contemplative.

When he spoke again, he sounded a bit sheepish, "Well… from a certain perspective… I mean… that certainly wasn't my intent…" he trailed off, frowning slightly as he scratched his chin.

Curious, surprised, and a little impressed, Hermione asked, "How did you steal it? I mean, why did you -"

"No, no, no," Ollivander waved his hands defensively as he interrupted her, "I never meant to take it. A group of muggle criminals accidentally smuggled a kilo of powdered unicorn horn into the country thinking it was some kind of narcotic."

Ollivander paused, shook his head, and then continued, "To make a very long story short, I ended up with a briefcase full of muggle paper and a man named Antonio made off with the unicorn horn… I had never really considered where the money came from, it's just been collecting dust in my closet for the last fifteen years."

"Are you sure you don't want this?" Hermione asked as she hesitantly picked up the stack of bills Ollivander had thrown at her, "Couldn't you exchange that whole briefcase for galleons?"

"Oh, the goblins won't give you gold for paper," he answered with a chuckle, closing the briefcase and setting it casually on the shop's counter, "I know they have reserves of muggle currencies on hand, but I think that's just for the Ministry to use in bribing muggles and influencing their politics."

Hermione took a deep breath and, before she lost the courage or got distracted discussing the statute of secrecy, she blurted out a question, "How many galleons would you want for the briefcase?"

Looking taken aback, Ollivander observed, "The leather is nice, but I'm not sure it would hold as many books as your satchel bag. Plus, your peers might think it strange to see a twelve-year-old carrying a briefcase."

"I'm still eleven," Hermione corrected automatically, then clarified the offer she was making, "And I don't need the case, I meant how much gold would you want for the contents?"

"Oh," Ollivander said with a shrug, "It's yours for the taking. Like I said, I have no use for it. I had completely forgotten about it until you mentioned muggle money."

Nervously, Hermione said, "I'll be right back."

She hurried up to her room, pulled a small pouch out of her satchel bag, and then sprinted back down the stairs three at a time. Slightly out of breath, Hermione pulled out every gold galleon she had, offering them to a startled Ollivander. He raised an eyebrow at her overflowing handful of coins, eventually taking a single galleon.

Putting the coin into one pocket and retrieving his wand from another, Ollivander said, "That will be more than sufficient for payment, thank you. I hope you'll visit me when you return to Diagon Alley to purchase school supplies. Until then, I will consider how best to continue our discussion on wandlore."

With a flick of his wand and a whip-like 'crack', Ollivander disappeared, just as he had after their first meeting.

After packing up, Hermione made her way back towards King's Cross Station. She felt as though each passerby gave her strange looks, and kept glancing over her shoulder, sure someone was following.

"I'm probably just imagining it," Hermione thought, trying to reassure herself, "How would anyone know I have this absurd amount of money?"

Before leaving Diagon Alley, she had counted the many stacks of bills in the briefcase before packing them into her satchel. In total, she now carried thirty thousand British pounds.

Not far from the station, Hermione passed a private cemetery. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move, startling her. She turned to look through the wrought iron fence, searching for the source of movement. She spotted shifting leaves in a hedge off to the left. Hermione stared, then realized the hedge was staring back. Green eyes the size of tennis balls blinked once before a loud 'crack' rang out and the enormous pair of eyes disappeared.

"That was exactly like the sound Ollivander made when he teleported!" Hermione thought with shock, a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead, "But those eyes didn't look anything like his, they didn't even look human!"

On the brink of panic, Hermione bolted, sprinting from the cemetery as fast as she could while tightly clutching her bag to her chest. She was forced to slow down a few blocks later when a stitch in her side could no longer be ignored. Limping slightly, holding her side, she kept going. Until she reached the station, Hermione kept seeing the green eyes peering out at her from the storm drains, a dark alley, and the stairway leading to a tube station. Each time she spotted the eyes, they disappeared with a loud crack. Unsure what exactly she'd seen, Hermione could not relax until she made it home that evening.

Before her parents came back to town, Hermione replaced the forty pounds she had used for bus fare, then began searching for somewhere to hide the rest of her newly acquired fortune. After considering burying it in the garden or stashing it in the attic, she decided to keep it in her school trunk, relying on her parents' continued lack of interest in her studies to protect her money from ending up as a new exam chair for their dental clinic.

The rest of July passed uneventfully, though Hermione was constantly anxious. She worried her parents would discover that she had visited London, or that a criminal organization would come knocking on her door demanding their stolen money back. On top of that, memories of the strange green eyes staring at her from the hedge kept coming to mind, leaving her to fret about the implications of being followed by what she guessed might be a goblin, an elf, or maybe a poltergeist.

The first Friday of August was marked by the arrival of an owl carrying a letter marked with the Hogwarts coat of arms. Hermione opened her window for the bird after it tapped on the glass with its beak. It flew through the room in a tight circle, dropping her letter on the bed before then exiting back out the window. Sitting on the side of the bed, Hermione opened the envelope and began reading.

"Dear Ms Granger,

We're pleased to inform you that you have successfully passed your first year at Hogwarts. Enclosed within, you will find a list of books and equipment necessary for your second year, along with a parental permission form for Second-year students wishing to participate in a team sport or join one of Hogwarts' clubs. Students be advised, that failing grades in any of your lessons may disqualify you from participating in extracurricular activities. The term begins September first,

-Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress"

After looking over her new booklist and setting aside the permission form, Hermione discovered a fourth piece of parchment.

"Dear Ms Granger,

Our scholarship program for muggle-born students has been expanded. You will not owe tuition for this school year, and a stipend for school supplies will be provided. Due to internal issues at the Ministry, you will need to collect your stipend in person from Gringotts Bank. Present this letter for verification.

-Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress"

Hermione frowned, thinking of Patricia Boot, the Ministry employee who stole most of her Wizarding money last summer. This undoubtedly prompted the changes in how scholarship recipients collected their money for purchasing supplies. Mr Scott, the man who'd altered her parents' memories, had been involved in the scheme as well but had developed enough guilt over robbing muggle-born students that he'd come clean to the authorities and turned on his co-conspirators.

Hermione put down this final letter and picked up the permission form, looking it over carefully. To her relief, it contained no wizarding terms or phrases that would seem out of place to her muggle parents.

"Of course!" her father said excitedly as he signed the form, "Why don't you go out for track and field? It's in your blood. Have I ever told you I hold a county record in the javelin throw?"

Her mother rolled her eyes and snorted with laughter, "You were thirteen when you got that record. Nowadays all you can throw is a tantrum over yogurt."

"Why would they charge six quid for low-calorie yogurt when the regular stuff is only four quid?" Her father retorted hotly, "It makes no sense, you're paying more to get less food!"

Hermione took the signed form and returned to her room, leaving her parents as they began to argue. While getting ready for bed, she spotted something fluttering outside her window. She opened it and a small, disheveled owl flew inside. It gave a loud hoot before landing atop her bedside lamp where it began to preen its feathers. Hermione untied the letter from its leg, recognizing Neville's immaculate handwriting as she did.

"Hermione,

I tried writing to you through the communication paper, but I think mine is broken. I've spent most of the summer at my Uncle's (he loved your expandable planter box by the way). My grandmother went on holiday in southern France. She returned yesterday and told me we're going to Diagon Alley in two weeks to get my school supplies. Would you be able to meet us for lunch on the thirtieth of August? Send your answer back with my Uncle's owl.

-Neville"

Hermione used the back of Neville's letter to scribble a quick reply, then tied it onto the owl's leg. She watched as it flew off, soon disappearing from view into the night sky.

The next morning over breakfast, Hermione sipped at her orange juice nervously until she worked up the courage to tell her parents another lie, "I need to go to King's Cross at the end of the month to catch the train to Hogwarts, but this year the scholarship program covers travel, so they already bought my bus ticket. Can you drop me off at five in the morning on August twenty-ninth?"

She had worried her parents would be suspicious or ask to see her train ticket, but her plan had worked perfectly.

"Oof, I hate getting up that early," her father answered, "But I'm happy to hear we don't have to waste money on a bus trip this time."

This enthusiasm over saving money annoyed her mother, and just as Hermione expected, her parents began to bicker, allowing her to leave the room without being noticed. One bike ride to the bus station later, and Hermione had a ticket to London. She would have plenty of time to talk with Mr Ollivander, get lunch with the Longbottoms, buy her school supplies, and catch the Hogwarts Express.

"Maybe I'll even have time to buy some things they don't sell in Diagon Alley," Hermione thought as she packed her trunk.

Two weeks later, Hermione walked down a busy muggle street, hand clenched tightly around the handle of her trunk, intensely aware of how much money was hidden inside. She bought a compact disc player and a few albums. Hermione didn't know much about music, but she wanted to introduce the Wizarding world to something besides the orchestral music she had heard at Hogwarts.

That was all she planned to buy before heading to Diagon Alley until she passed a bike shop. For years, Hermione had asked for a new bike every Christmas and on her birthday. Each time, her father would claim he'd think about it, only for him to get her socks and a book instead.

"Well happy early birthday to me!" Hermione whispered as she pushed open the door to the shop.