Victor Hugo Granger was a responsible driver. As such, he could only pay a bit of attention to his daughter and the stray. From what he could glimpse, they were picking names for The White Owl, and waiting for it to respond positively. Eventually, they settled on "Two," which he correctly guessed was an acronym. But Hermione looked unsatisfied. They opened one of Hermione's magical history books and she started calling out interesting names she saw. Harry eventually joined her. When Harry said "Hedwig!" the owl dipped its head and fluffed its feathers.
"That will be her formal name," Hermione declared. "Right, Two?"
Two was busy nuzzling Harry, but perhaps that wasn't an objection.
"That's actually the name of the main role in a famous play," Victor interjected. "It's not one we could take you to, though. You're too young."
He looked over at his wife. She seemed quite lost in thought.
Jane Austen Granger, who hadn't wished to go through five years of Standard Entry Dentistry education named Puckle, had found, miraculously, another person named after an author also in the programme at Manchester. Getting married early had helped with expenses, at first, until Hermione came along. Even after that, with the help of their families, they'd put their heads down and soldiered on. Now they had their feet under them, they could afford to care more about selective cases like this boy's. Jane had referred abused children to CPS, but wasn't a social worker. It seemed as if the magical world worked in a very rough fashion, though, where you could be a de facto social worker in a situation such as this one, without causing any actionable problems.
The boy wouldn't say boo, and if they needed him to do something, they just had to convince Hermione, who could clearly get him to do anything. He looked at her the way much younger children looked at their parents, when the child was in a good mood, that is.
Hermione would probably not be popular at school, or enough to carry Harry through. He needed to be toughened up somewhat, ironically. But that had to be done by building him up.
Fortunately, they arrived at their home, and after depositing their things inside, she drew Hermione aside.
"Have you thought of anything to build up that poor thing's spirit?" Jane came right out with it.
Hermione's mouth gaped open.
In for a penny, Jane just waited.
"I ... I suppose so. I've heard him say a few times how much he wants to help. Give us some chores, nothing that takes all night. If he's helping, he'll feel less nervous. If he's doing what I'm doing, he'll feel more a part of us,"
"Even before homework?" she asked, then remembered that, being eleven, the children had no summer homework to do.
"Chores before homework will work best," Hermione replied, 'and the studying I'm doing for Hogwarts will do for Harry, as well."
Harry and Hermione set the table and did the washing up. Harry seemed demonstrably less nervous once he was working. Also, being side-by-side with Hermione on their tasks clearly comforted him and made him happier.
Jane decided to make homework one of the tasks of the house.
"We now have Hermione do an hour of homework. Hermione has been assigning herself an hour of studying for your magical school, instead. Is that all right with you?" Jane asked.
Harry nodded quietly. By the time they'd finished, Hermione had somehow gotten him to open up, and she was doing most of the listening as they chatted together on the sofa away from her parents. His worshipful eyes rarely left Hermione's face.
That night, in addition to his motorcycle and dog good dreams, and his broom and cat good dreams, Harry dreamed a radiant angel was holding him close keeping him safe and comfortable through the night.