"And I met a boy …"

It was this little statement, both innocuous and potentially monumental, that really drew Catrin Granger's attention that afternoon.

She had been waiting patiently at King's Cross Station, on the St. Pancras side, with a steaming mug of coffee for company for just over an hour. She was there to collect her witch of a daughter, who was returning from her private school for their Winter break. Catrin chuckled to herself, recalling how she had told a colleague of her plans in those exact terms. The scandalised look she received in return might have been enough for Catrin to expect a visit from the Child Protection Service any day now.

If only the colleague had known the truth of the statement … that would have changed things entirely.

Had Catrin ever found the courage to look that reality in the face, she'd have to be honest with herself and accept that she'd never quite gotten used to it. Her daughter, her beautiful girl, was a witch. And not in the same way that other exasperated parents might describe their errant children in moments of fraught and exhausted fragility, that every parent succumbs to from time to time. Her child wasn't a monster, wasn't a little terror, wasn't a mischievous imp sent to drive Catrin and her husband round the bend. In fact, the girl was well adjusted, exceedingly bright and a joy to be around.

But that didn't change the fact that Hermione Granger was a witch … a true one, with a magic wand, a pointed hat and books full of complicated spells. She had even added a cat to her stereotypical paraphernalia last year. Thankfully, Crookshanks hadn't been a sinister black cat, even if he was perhaps the ugliest kitty Catrin had ever seen. Though his bandy-legged, unsure-footedness meant he wasn't likely to sit on the end of Hermione's broomstick, guiding her to devious schemes and mischief … not that the girl had ever taken to the genre trope of gliding around on a sweeping brush for fun anyway. She wasn't interested in flying, or broomsticks, or that strangely-named sport that other Magical folk played on them.

Well, at least, she hadn't been …

But this last few months had changed a lot of things about Hermione Granger, as her mother was about to find out. She noticed a couple of changes as soon as Hermione emerged from the exit at King's Cross and made her way through the concourse, to the coffee shop where her mother was waiting. Catrin could see that her daughter had grown a little since they'd last seen each other. She had added perhaps an inch in height, and her body looked a little fuller. Catrin had to remind herself that her little girl was quickly growing into a graceful young woman … something that was as equally tough to accept as the fact that she could perform actual, storybook-style magic.

But the first big change Catrin noticed was that Hermione wasn't alone. This was new, unheard of in all of Hermione's school years since her education began. She was flanked by two people, and the three of them gave off the vibe of genuine friendship. Indeed, the two either side of Hermione had interlocked their arms with hers. It warmed Catrin's heart to see, for it looked like her staunchly solitary child had actually, finally, made a friend or two at last.

"Hi Mum," Hermione beamed as she reached her mother. "Where's Dad? I was hoping he'd be here too."

"You father has to work, I'm afraid," Catrin sighed. "There's a baggage handlers strike in Munich, so Joon can't get his flight back from a conference he attended on new false teeth materials and laser plaque removal."

"Sounds riveting," Hermione grinned.

"I wasn't keen to go, either," Catrin smiled. "But it left the surgery a little under staffed. So your father has a day of root canals and fillings, and I think a veneer or two, while I'm on Daughter Collection Duty. So, are you going to show some manners and introduce us?"

Catrin nodded pointedly at the two girls bobbing expectantly in Hermione's shadow.

Hermione flushed at the gentle rebuke. "Oh, right. Sorry. This is Fay, and this is Lavender. We're dorm mates at Hog - er, school."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs Granger," Fay beamed, stretching a hand out to shake.

"We're also Haitch's friends, too, though she still has a hard time admitting it!" Lavender added with a laugh, before accepting Catrin's handshake when it was offered to her next. Hermione simply made a face at the girl.

"It's lovely to meet you both," Catrin smiled back. "I've never met any of Hermione's friends before. So, have you all had a good term?"

"Yes, thank you," Fay nodded demurely.

"Yeah, some better than others, eh Haitch?" Lavender teased with a suggestive nudge, that knocked Hermione into her heavy Hogwarts trunk. "She has loads of stories to tell, does this sly one!"

"Shush you!" Hermione hissed crossly. Lavender and Fay simply giggled together in response.

"Well she'll have plenty of time to tell me all about them on the journey home," Catrin replied with an interested smirk. "Speaking of which, we'd better get going, Hermione. Traffic out of London will be a nightmare at this time of day."

"Yes, we'd better get a move on," Hermione announced brightly. "Right, well, see you two on January the third."

"Aren't we still on for meeting up on Diagon Alley for some late Christmas shopping?" asked Fay. "We all agreed to that on the train home."

"Did we? Can't say I remember that," Hermione frowned. "My mind must have been elsewhere when we were talking about that."

"I think your mind was in a certain Ravenclaw carriage for most of the journey!" Fay commented with a wink.

"What's a Ravenclaw?" Catrin asked.

"It's one of the Hogwarts Houses," Hermione snapped before the others could respond. "But don't worry about that. It's not important right now. Come on, Mum, we'd better hurry if we want to beat the traffic. See you two later."

"But what about the shopping?" Lavender called, as Hermione urged her mother away.

"We'll see," Hermione replied non-committally. "Bye."

And a moment later they were out of the station, out of earshot, and out of range of any more awkward teasing.

"What was all that about?" Catrin asked, taking Hermione's trunk and loading into onto a trolley to wheel to the car.

"Oh, nothing. Just my friends being the silly girls they are," Hermione dismissed with a huff and a wave of her hand.

"So that's the first thing you can tell me about," Catrin began, brightly. "You have friends! That's new, not to mention rather wonderful."

"I wouldn't go that far," Hermione replied mutinously. "They can be a nightmare sometimes, honestly."

"What friends aren't?" Catrin laughed. "But it is so good to see you finally making some. I'm so pleased."

"Not interested in my grades then?" Hermione scoffed. "Just my expanding social circle?"

"Don't be skittish," Catrin warned. "Of course I am interested in your grades. But one swallow does not a Summer make. Having friends and a social life is very healthy and important, as well as doing well academically, and I'm sure you can manage both. Not that you've ever had to before. Are you managing both?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at her mother in a nonplussed way as they reached the car. "My grades are top of the class, as I'm sure you're glad to hear. And I wouldn't say I have a social life … I just get on better with the girls I share a room with, that's all. They aren't quite as tiresome as I always thought they were … or maybe I've just lightened up a bit. Who could say?"

Catrin chuckled again as they entered the car and clicked on their seatbelts. "Now that is a question I must have an answer to! What sort of magic could possibly make you lighten up!"

"Mother! Don't be a prune. I'm not that bad."

"You pretty much are!" Catrin teased as she pulled out of the car park and into a snaking queue of traffic.

"If you carry on, I won't talk to you for the rest of the trip home," Hermione warned. "And Oxford is a long way away."

"Alright, alright, I can see I've touched a nerve," Catrin returned. "So, have you actually had a good term, as your friends said?"

"Yes, I have," Hermione smiled. "It's been brilliant … very brilliant, in fact. Better than normal, and that's saying something considering where I go to school."

"Quite," Catrin agreed. "And what has made this term so special?"

"Well, the school is hosting an international magical tournament, which is really exciting, and we have pupils from schools in France and Bulgaria around the place, who are competing against us in it," Hermione began rapidly. "So it's great to see other Magicals from different parts of Europe and learn about them. But I noticed how disparate it made Hogwarts seem, with us all divided into separate Houses and not really mixing and things, so I started a pen-pal scheme to bring us all a bit closer together. And that proved popular, I mean really popular. So that was good. And my classes have been really good, so interesting with my new subjects like Numerology and Ancient Runes. So I'm loving all that.

"Oh, and I also met a boy … a boy called Harry Potter."

Catrin might have crashed the car such was the surprise of that statement. To learn that her non-gregarious, perhaps even lonely only child had made friends was bizarre enough, but to learn that she had met a boy - with all the connotations which could come with that - Catrin simply had to know more.

"Met a boy, you say?" Catrin asked, trying to keep things breezy.

"Well, so to say I met Harry Potter isn't quite right," Hermione mused aloud, as she looked out of the window and missed her mother's poorly masked inference entirely. "I mean, I knew about Harry Potter, but I didn't know about Harry Potter, if you see what I mean?"

"Not at all, that makes very little sense, Hermione," Catrin frowned.

"Oh, right, you wouldn't know," Hermione chastised herself. "Harry is, well, sort of … famous … in the Magical World. Wait, who am I trying to kid? Harry is very famous. Every child, and every adult most likely, knows his name."

Catrin raised her eyebrows in surprise. "This boy is a celebrity, then?"

"No, not at all! It's nothing like that!" Hermione cried passionately, some might say protectively. "He's not a celebrity … and he wouldn't thank me for describing him like that. Oh dear, I really have to choose my words more carefully in future."

Hermione wrung her hands in her anxiety. Catrin noticed and wondered where this was going. Who exactly was this Harry Potter character? And how had he ignited this thing in the oft emotionally inert Hermione Granger? Her mother was rapt now.

"So … he's famous, but not a celebrity?" Catrin tried to clarify. "I don't know that I understand that. Are his parents celebrities?"

"No, his parents are dead," Hermione explained sadly.

"Oh, the poor lamb," Catrin sympathised. "Is that … recent?"

"No, they were killed when Harry was just a baby. Only a year old, in fact."

"Was it an accident? But what kind of accident could kill a witch and a wiz -"

"- they were murdered," Hermione cut across bluntly.

Catrin actually slowed the car and looked at her daughter. "Murdered?"

"Yes," Hermione muttered. "By one of the most hated Dark Wizards of all time. He tried to kill baby Harry, too."

Catrin gasped at the news. "But he clearly failed, this evil wizard? He must have, if the boy is still alive for you to meet him. But how is that possible? How can a baby survive when his parents were murdered?"

"Nobody really knows … or if they do, they aren't saying," Hermione explained. "That's why Harry is famous … he is credited with defeating this Dark Lord, but he has almost no memory of the event and doesn't know how he managed the deed he is vaunted for. Not that the people who ask ever accept that story … and everyone asks, Mum. It's really quite annoying. I wish they'd just all leave him alone."

Catrin couldn't see her daughter's face, as her eyes were on the road and traffic ahead, but she could hear this staunch protectiveness in Hermione's voice all the same. She had clearly become this Harry Potter's champion, prepared to defend him from all and sundry. But how in the world had this happened? Catrin had never heard the boy's name before this car ride. And she had never heard her daughter roused so much in all of her fifteen years.

So just who in the world was Harry Potter?

"You say you knew about him but didn't know him. I think I understand now … I assume you mean that you had heard his story?" Catrin surmised.

"Yes, he has chapters about him in several books," Hermione confirmed.

"And if they are in books, you've obviously read all of them," Catrin grinned over.

"I like books, don't tease," Hermione plead.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to. So how have you suddenly gotten to know this boy?"

"Through my pen-pal scheme," Hermione explained. "Harry signed up, which I really didn't expect, and then I signed up and asked to be his pen-pal, which I didn't expect even more, and then he agreed … which I expected the least of the lot."

"Why? What was so unexpected about it?" Catrin pressed. "Is he arrogant? Egotistical? Fame gotten to his head? I'm not sure I'd like you associating with someone like that."

"No, Harry is not that sort of person! Not at all!" Hermione squeaked. "He's shy and reserved, hates his fame and everything about it. He keeps to himself, so people think he's a bit aloof, but he did that on purpose so people would leave him alone."

That pleased Catrin a lot more. "I can imagine how all the attention could be tough for him, especially if he didn't court it. He'd be reminded of his parent's murder every time someone asked him about how he survived the Dark Lord, wouldn't he? Poor lamb … what a burden to carry!"

"Exactly!" Hermione agreed hotly, pleased that her mother had understood this so readily. "He made himself unapproachable so people wouldn't, well, approach him. So hardly anyone knew anything about the real him … just thought he was a moody loner that snapped at anyone who came too close."

"Ah, and you couldn't resist the chance to try and wrestle the truth out of him?"

"Something like that," Hermione admitted in a shy, small voice.

"And have you?" Catrin pushed.

"Yes, I think so … well, lots of it anyway," Hermione pondered. "And it's so much different than what everyone else thinks. But I quite like it that way, that I know the proper Harry Potter and no-one else does. It's like my own secret that I can keep to myself, and lord it over the other ignorants who can boil their heads and think what they like."

Catrin smiled at that, but kept the expression to herself lest she antagonise her this new ferocity in her little girl. "So, are you friends with him?"

"Best friends, I'd say," Hermione nodded. "Or, actually, we'd both say."

"And do you say?" Catrin asked. "Have you done more than write letters to each other then?"

Hermione huffed in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. "I know where you are going with this, Mother, and you can drop it right away."

"That's still not a proper answer. And I think I'm well within my rights to ask for one, especially if boys are now coming into your life in such a personal manner."

Hermione hissed in a scandalised sort of way. "Excuse me! But boys are not coming into my life at all! What a thing to say!"

"One seems to be."

"Well ... that's different," Hermione feebly tried to argue.

"I'm not interrogating you, love," Catrin soothed. "I just want to know a little about you and this Harry Potter, that's all. Nothing sordid please, if there is anything, but I'm just interested in how you have gotten to know this boy so well in such a short space of time."

"We went to a Christmas Ball, had a lovely time, and then went to the village just before the end of term, where Harry bought me a toffee apple. That was lovely, too," Hermione confessed, as colour rose to her cheeks. "We aren't in the same House as one another, you see, so we don't have much chance to meet in person."

That's a relief, Catrin thought, thankful for small miracles. "Ah, I see. So his was the Ravenclaw carriage your other friends were teasing you about earlier? Are you really that close, then?"

"Like I said, we're best friends," Hermione repeated. "In fact, I'm probably Harry's only friend. There's a good chance he took the train trip back alone. So yes, I was thinking about how he was getting on with no-one else to chat to. I was concerned for my friend, okay? He doesn't talk much or enjoy the company of others, and usually prefers to be by himself."

"Except where you are concerned?"

"Except where I am concerned," Hermione agreed shyly. "He's starting to know he's safe with me, I think. I don't care about the Dark Lord or all that stuff. We don't ever talk about it. I'd rather know the more important things ... what sort of person he is ... is he brave? is he selfless? is he kind? ... and what it takes to be his friend and ... and what makes him happy."

"And what does make him happy?" Catrin asked. "Have you found that out yet?"

"Flying, mostly," Hermione replied. "He loves broomstick flight and playing Quidditch. I coaxed him into playing one match against my House this year. He did it, and we lost heavily, and my Housemates called me a lot of names or didn't speak to me at all when they found out what I'd done, but I tolerated it cheerily enough. Harry got to play and win and was happy for once, even if it was only briefly, and that was more than enough for me."

"And you did all of that ... just for him?"

"Yes."

"You took abuse from your Housemates, went against your closest peers, just to make Harry Potter happy?"

"Yes."

"And you did it gladly?"

"I just told you that I did," Hermione frowned.

"I see. And it was because he was your best friend?" Catrin smirked.

"Oh, I don't think he was my best friend then, but it wasn't long before he was," Hermione corrected.

"And you'd count him as your best friend now?" Catrin pressed.

"I would," Hermione replied happily. "I'd never wanted a best friend before, not really, but now I can't bear to think of what it would be like without mine, now that I have one."

"You must write to each other often, to have managed to get to know Harry so well and so quickly?"

Hermione thought about it as she drummed her fingers on the armrest of the car door. "It was infrequent at first, then went to once a week, then more than once, then every day or so. We had an embargo leading up to the Yule Ball ... which annoyed me greatly, let me tell you ... but it did give us a lot to talk about on the night, as I got to tell him off a lot as it was his silly idea in the first place. We also set aside Sunday nights to send short notes to each other over our Floo Communication Network, which uses fire and magical powder. It's a bit like your mobile phone text messages, only much dirtier."

"Excuse me, young lady, but you'd better explain yourself this instant!" Catrin demanded.

Hermione giggled sweetly. "Keep your hair on, Mum, I didn't mean it like that! I meant it's grimy, because of the Floo Powder we use. It's like soot, you see, it gets all over the place ... in your hair and under your nails and all over your hands. Takes ages to wash off when you use so much of it."

"And I assume you use a fair bit?"

"Loads," Hermione grinned, sheepishly.

"Hmm, I'll accept that answer ... for now," Catrin smirked back over.

"It's the truth, and it's all very innocent, I promise," Hermione vowed. "We've spent more time studying together after class in the school library than socialising. That should give you an idea of how little we are able to see of each other."

"And do you plan to see each over the Christmas break, now that you have so much spare time?" Catrin asked. "I think I'd quite like to meet your first ever best friend, get the measure of him and everything."

"Oh, what? No, no we haven't discussed anything like that," Hermione tittered, suddenly flustered. "But I think we are going to keep in contact. I'm going to send him a Christmas Card in a day or two. He's never had one, you know, can you imagine that? Said he never had anyone to send one to, or to get one back from in return. But now he does … in me … so I can change all that."

"I'm sure he'll appreciate the gesture," Catrin mused. Then she suddenly turned to her daughter. "But wait … if Harry hasn't ever received a Christmas Card in his life, then there's a good chance he's never gotten a Christmas present before either."

Hermione gasped deeply, the heartbreak audibly coursing through her breathy inhale. She snapped her head to her mother in abject horror.

"Oh no, Mum, don't say that!" she yelped. "That can't be true, can it? But it probably is, you know. I've never thought about that before … that he's never had anyone to give him a Christmas present … never had someone to show that they care for him at such a time. Oh ... of all the times of year to be left abandoned … he must have felt so lonely all by himself. Oh, poor Harry … poor, poor Harry!"

Catrin knew three things immediately, as Hermione sank into a silent abyss of wallowing pity in the seat next to her. Her mind was whirring, scheming, plotting ways to put this new aberration to rights as soon as possible. Catrin knew her daughter was singly focused on that task, and it would utterly consume her till it was done. That was the first fact, the second was that Catrin knew she'd better keep the car fuelled and her calender free, as they would most definitely be returning to London for some last-minute Christmas gift hunting now. She didn't mind that at all, as the Magical shopping district was always at it's most fairytale-like when dusted with snow anyway.

But the final fact was the one that would keep Catrin Granger's mind occupied for most of the night, along with the conundrum of how to break the fateful news to her daughter's doting father. Catrin wasn't sure how her husband would take the disclosure, or how she would even confess it to him. But she knew one thing for absolute certain, even if her daughter seemed too blinkered to admit the glaring fact to herself yet.

Because this Harry Potter ... whoever he might be ... was obviously far more than Hermione Granger's mere best friend …