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We invite you to join us in ceremony & celebration as our daughter
Hermione Bat Yael
מלאכי בת יעל
Is called to the Torah as Bat Mitzvah
Saturday, August 1st
(2 Av 5752)
at half past ten in the morning
Hampstead Synagogue
Kiddush luncheon to follow
And please join us for an evening reception at six o'clock
Formal dress
Amadi & Joëlle Granger
.o.
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Dear Harry,
This is what 'all those Jewish books' were for! That I made time to do so between studying actual magic should tell you how important this is, but to reiterate:
Bar/Bat Mitzvah (male/female) is the Jewish coming of age ritual, via which an individual is recognized as having sufficient knowledge of our laws, ethics, & traditions to participate in the community to the same extent as an adult.
That sounds a bit rote, doesn't it? Think of it as the Jewish version of graduating Hogwarts, if that helps. It would mean quite a lot to me to have you there. Though I should warn you that I didn't have many friends before Hogwarts, so there would be some attention on you, some curiosity— but not nearly as much as you get from mages. And you won't have to do anything special. You'll just be a very important spectator, really.
If transport is an issue, I'm sure the Tonkses would be more than happy to pick you up. Ted, specifically, though Andromeda is more than capable of blending in as well. I think it's best that Tonks not interact with your relatives just yet; you'll understand when you meet her.
Your friend,
Hermione
She spent most of that summer either at Shul or Chez Tonks. When she wasn't reading or chanting her Parsha she was studying ahead, memorizing magical theory or casting until her wand arm trembled and her thoughts flowed like molasses.
Hiding her skill hadn't prevented the bullying.
Let them jinx me, she thought. Let them waste their time and effort trying to sabotage me. It won't make their marks any better, and it won't make mine any worse.
I won't let it.
The coffee was Tonks' fault. She'd stumbled in from Auror training one day, found Hermione doing a zombie impression over some earl grey, and was seized by a sudden, impish curiosity.
Fifteen minutes later, Hermione was seized by a fierce appreciation.
Three hours later, Andromeda was deeply unamused— but by then Dora had passed out on the couch, and Hermione was too busy frantically scribbling out… something in both Hebrew letters and Futhark to be receptive to mumsy advice.
(When had she even found time to familiarize herself with Futhark?)
.:.
Dear Harry,
Has it been as odd for you as it has for me, readjusting to the mundane world?
Or, I should say, the world outside Hogwarts? Salad has never tasted so good before. Spices have never tasted so good before! You simply must come to dinner one of these days. Just smile & let my parents stuff you full of food, & they'll love you.
I've just finished my summer assignments, & have been reading ahead about defensive spells. Did you know there are over a dozen different shield charms? Apparently one creates a shield roughly the size of a tennis racket, which is much easier to maintain for extended periods. I haven't been able to cast it yet, but it could be the answer to our potions problem!
Concerning my Bat Mitzvah, please do RSVP soon— we need to know how many people you're bringing for seating and catering purposes.
Hoping to hear from you soon,
Hermione
.:.
She didn't see Tonks as much as she would have liked that summer, on account of the Auror training— and when she did manage to bribe stories out of her with muggle sweets (wider variety) or novels (better in general), those stories were clearly, absurdly embellished.
(The ones about the training courses were. The ones about Moody weren't).
But frustrating Tonks was better than no Tonks.
.:.
Harry,
How has your summer been thus far?
Please confirm that you received my invitation.
Thinking of you,
Hermione
.:.
One afternoon, Andromeda came upon Hermione whistling as she levitated a footstool.
(It was wobbling somewhat, but she was doing it wandlessly.)
"What tune is that? I swear it's familiar…"
"Hava Nagila," she muttered, gaze not straying from the stool.
.:.
Ron,
It sounds like Ginny just wants to be included.
With regards to our assignments: Teach thy tongue to say 'I do not know', and thou shalt progress.
By the way, have you heard from Harry this summer?
Two days after mentioning her worries to Andromeda, Hermione walked into the Tonkses' kitchen to find a familiar head of shaggy jet-black hair bent over the Prophet.
She froze. Harry looked up, and smiled shyly.
"Alright, Hermione?"
She forgot about his touch-weirdness in her eagerness to hug him— but after a moment of stiffness, he squeezed back tighter than he ever had before.
He felt skinnier, yet didn't seem to have grown any taller.
(She remembered the small, cautious bites he took the first few weeks at Hogwarts— maybe magically-prepared food sat better with him than mundane food? She had wondered about the side effects of the curse-scar…)
The odd look on his face, she soon realized, was relief— which she soon shared, because he hadn't been ignoring her letters so much as just not receiving them. When Hermione asked Ted and Andromeda what sort of magic could do such a thing, they also made odd faces. Different odd faces, but still.
(Hermione had never seen them angry before.)
Apparently there were wards that could confuse, reroute, repel, or even hurt post owls. Apparently one of those first three kinds had been raised around Privet Drive. Apparently Dumbledore (who had placed Harry at Privet Drive under what sounded like circumstances of dubious legality) had said that there were other wards on Privet Drive— powerful, mysterious protections that relied on him living with his mother's sister.
Both Ted and Andromeda seemed less than pleased about this for some reason. But Harry was happy, got happier when she invited him to her Bat Mitzvah, and stayed happy even as she bombarded him with readings both assigned and extracurricular. When she told him about the Trace workaround (she had, with great effort, restrained herself from doing so at school for fear of prying ears), he actually grinned.
When the day arrived, Hermione's nerves were a rampant infection, pounding through her veins and tingling in her fingertips.
"You've been singing at Shul for years," Maman told her, "I guarantee you people have already noticed your gift, and have they made a fuss about it?"
"But that was before I spent a year intensively practicing magic!" Hermione said very calmly and reasonably, not gesticulating at all. "What if I turn the candles into a bonfire? What if I panic and levitate the Torah or something?"
"You were practicing your magic for years before Professor McGonagall showed up," said her Baba. "Seems to me that what you've been doing intensively is improving your control of your magic."
…which was actually quite a valid point.
"Besides, the Goldsteins, Halperins, Professor Babben—"
"Babbling, Baba—"
"—and that wizard Rabbi will all be there in case of any magical mishap."
"Stop that," said her Maman.
He blinked innocently. "Mon coeur?"
"We are not adopting their bizarre fétiche for alliteration."
"Are you absolutely assured of that, my ardently alluring—"
"Tais ta langue ou je ne m'en approcherai pas."
"…As you wish."
"Help Jojo with her hair, Farm Boy."
He did.
.:.
The Torah did not levitate, Hermione did not bungle the leyning, and if the candles burned a little brighter than usual, no one mentioned it. At some point her anxiety had sublimed into song, leaving only the giddy focus of having over-prepared for the test. As the service came to a close, her plain voice blended into the multitude.
Then her Baba's hand was on her shoulder again, and a whole procession of people was congratulating her, praising her, welcoming her. The sight of the Tonkses (Dora had not only made time to attend but had also turned her hair brown), Professor Babbling, Rabbi Kann, several Weasleys, and Harry among people she'd known her whole life brought her to tears.
The next morning, when she asked Harry what he'd thought of the service itself, he told her that he'd expected it to be something like church— but that it clearly wasn't, because the Dursleys would be much happier people if they experienced that every weekend.
Hermione realized then that she had never heard Harry use the word family to describe his guardians— only 'aunt,' 'uncle,' or the Dursleys.
Who apparently attended church regularly, but did not take Harry with them. Who Harry had said did not like magic. He had never elaborated on this– had, in fact, changed the subject whenever it came up.
But even her worrying suspicions about his home life could not dim the glow she felt inside. It lasted all through the summer, through the train ride north and the Scottish rain and a week of classes, right up until Draco Malfoy called her a mudblood.
The general intent was clear in his vicious tone. The word itself was self-evident. Her housemates' reaction to the word was educational— as were the conversations she had with them about it later.