Hermione

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It was Hermione's mother who invited Professor McGonagall into the house in a voice shaking with shock. She entered, not bothered in the least by the three frightened faces before her.

"I'm terribly sorry for being late." McGonagall said as she entered the entrance hall.

Hermione looked at the clock behind her: she was exactly 35 seconds late.

Hermione's parents looked even more scandalized than she did, they were speechless and just looked McGonagall up and down without saying anything. The teacher didn't seem at all offended by this reception, she took off her cloak and hat and placed them in the entrance of the house, next to the umbrellas.

Then she raised her head and addressed them as if this were a perfectly normal situation:

"I suppose you have a lot of questions following the letter you received yesterday. Could we discuss them over tea?" she asked kindly.

This seemed to wake Hermione's mother from her trance. She shook her head and apologized flatly, before leading her into the living room. McGonagall took a seat around the small round table and Hermione sat across from her, still not having spoken a word since she had entered the house.

She couldn't help but look at the teacher. Although she was dressed normally, she exuded a kind of presence she had never known before, as if she had a magical aura about her. She wore small glasses on the end of her nose and her hair was pulled back in a tight bun.

Hermione's father took a seat next to her, and the three of them looked at each other as Hermione's mother busied herself making tea in the kitchen.

"You have a very nice house." the teacher commented as she looked around the living room.

"Thank you very much." replied John, though his voice was stuck in the back of his throat.

Finally, Hermione's mum put the tray of tea and biscuits on the table and sat down in turn. McGonagall took a cup, a green tea, filled the mug with scalding water and added a sugar cube under the puzzled gazes of her hosts who had not moved.

"I suppose you must have many questions," the teacher repeated once she had finished preparing her tea. "Miss Granger, do you know why I am here?"

The question was kind, but it gave Hermione the feeling that it was a teacher's question to a student and she felt compelled to answer by stating her knowledge:

"According to the letter we received, I would have been accepted into a school?"

"Absolutely. Do you remember the name of that school?"

"Hogwarts. But I'd never heard of it before yesterday." she said, a little ashamed.

"That's quite normal, you weren't supposed to know about it as a Muggle." McGonagall explained, sipping her tea as if she were telling her about the weather.

"Muggle...?" asked Hermione's mother, clearly as confused as her daughter.

"A non-magical person."

"I'm a Muggle," said Hermione. "I'm not..."

She couldn't get the word out, the word that would make real what she thought deep inside, what she had known for years secretly and never spoken of until now. McGonagall put her tea down and looked Hermione in the eye, looking extremely serious:

"Miss Granger, you are a witch."

If McGonagall didn't have such great presence, Hermione would probably have burst out laughing at this. She would never have believed this costumed lady who messes with owls. However, seeing someone so serious confirm her fears gave Hermione a jolt.

Her parents stiffened beside her, and John placed a protective hand on the back of Hermione's hand:

"What?" yelped Hermione's mother.

McGonagall continued to address Hermione, fixing her with her piercing gaze:

"Haven't you ever had any strange, unexplained, paranormal behaviour? When you've felt anger, fear, or euphoria?"

Hermione remembered the fire on Cassandra's head and did not answer. McGonagall must have taken that as a 'yes' because she slumped slightly in the chair, as confident as ever.

"There must be some mistake," Hermione's father observed. "That's not possible, our Hermione doesn't practise witchcraft... She's a perfectly normal little girl, she's going to go to the Hampstead College in London..."

McGonagall finally looked away from Hermione to address her parents:

"Hermione is a very unusual girl. She has magical powers, she is able to practise magic, especially in those moments of strong emotions. Today she is not yet able to control it, so that is why we train young wizards at Hogwarts, to teach them how to do it."

"We don't believe in that sort of thing," Hermione's mother replied.

"What if I showed you?"

They stood in awe of this request. Professor McGonagall took a sip of tea, rose gracefully and stood in front of the table. There were a few seconds of awkward silence, where the professor remained fixed on the floor with all the Grangers' eyes fixed on her, afraid to see what might be happening.

Then, in a brief second, her body stretched and arched, and Hermione saw a cat on the table. She realised that McGonagall had just turned into a cat before her eyes and she gasped as her parents did. She had just enough time to recognize the shape of her glasses before she was back to her old self, sitting at the table as if nothing had happened.

"Do you believe it now?" she asked in an amused tone.

Hermione looked at her parents, who were deeply shocked. It was hard not to believe in the existence of magic after that. They nodded slowly, and McGonagall waited for them to come to their senses while eating a biscuit. Finally, after the shock had worn off, Rachel asked:

"How have we never heard of this?"

"Because as non-magical people, no offence, you couldn't be part of the magical community until now. Now that your daughter has proven herself to be a witch and has been invited to receive an education at Hogwarts, you can enter the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, but you can't talk to anyone else about the magical world."

"So does that mean that if we let her go to this... school, Hermione will be able to do magic tricks like these?" asked Rachel, indicating McGonagall's cat transformation with a wave of her hand.

"If Hermione succeeds in learning magic, yes, she will," McGonagall said simply.

Hermione's parents turned to her uncertainty, as if she would suddenly turn into an animal as well.

"Did all the students at Hogwarts learn that they were wizards like this?" asked Hermione.

McGonagall's eyes narrowed slightly at this question, but she still answered in her calm, confident voice:

"No. Some of them are also Muggle-born, like you, and some have wizarding parents."

"So that means that some people will already have knowledge about this when I only have a month to learn everything?"

McGonagall grinned slightly. John cut Hermione's question off with an indignant look:

"Hermione, do you really believe all this? Are you sure it's not a scam, or a prank?!"

"Dad, you know very well that I'm capable of doing things that have never been explained. Remember the hike, when you couldn't get me to move for hours?"

"You probably had your foot stuck in a root!"

Hermione shook her head. She knew what she was, now that McGonagall had told her, it made sense. Hermione's mother put her hand on her husband's shoulder:

"John... They're not wrong... It could well be that Hermione is a..."

"What?! How can we be sure? We're going to let our Hermione go to that school without having any idea what it is? It's dangerous, Rachel!" He turned to McGonagall, "What if we refuse?"

She shrugged vaguely:

"You can absolutely refuse, but you need Hermione to agree with you. If she wants to go to Hogwarts, that's her choice, no one can decide for her."

John turned to his daughter. She knew her father would never force her to do anything, he was silently asking her opinion. She collected her thoughts and looked back at the teacher:

"Before I make my decision, can you tell me about Hogwarts?"

McGonagall nodded and began to explain. She told him about absolutely everything: how the school worked, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, the subjects, the Houses, the Great Hall, the school holidays, and even the possible careers after Hogwarts. McGonagall answered all of Hermione's questions, and her parents listened attentively, only intervening at certain points to ask for clarification.

The teacher answered honestly, and even though some of her answers might shock them, she spared no words. She took care to explain sincerely, always with her calm and steady voice.

By the end of her explanation, Hermione's head was on the verge of exploding from taking in so much information, and her parents looked less confused than they had been at first. It was now pitch black outside, Hermione hadn't realised that her questions had taken so long.

"Is there anything else you want to know?" asked McGonagall gently as she finished her third tea.

"I don't think so..." said Hermione who was suddenly exhausted from listening so much.

"Very well. If you want any more information, you can always send me a letter and I'll try to answer it quickly."

She stood up and took a wand out of her robe pocket. It was wooden, quite long and had a round tip that embraced her hand. She twirled it absentmindedly in the air and the tea tray disappeared. It seemed a harmless gesture to her, but the Grangers instinctively recoiled.

McGonagall spoke again as if nothing had happened:

"You must buy all the supplies on the list, you can find them on Diagon Alley. It's a wizarding shopping street, you can get there directly from the Leaky Cauldron pub on Charing Cross Street. Once you're in the pub, just ask one of the managers for directions. I recommend you buy your wand at Ollivander's. As for money, all you have to do is go to the Gringotts bank, a large white building at the end of the road to exchange your pounds for galleon. Once you have made your purchases, you will be expected on the morning of September 1st at King's Cross Station to board the Hogwarts Express."

McGonagall pulled a golden ticket from her pocket and handed it to her.

"Here is your ticket. You'll have to cross the wall between platform 9 and 10 of the station, it may seem daunting at first, but I promise you won't bump into the wall, you'll simply walk through it as if it were an invisible barrier."

Hermione noticed that her parents were still very wide-eyed at what McGonagall was saying, but the young woman listened intently, afraid she would forget. McGonagall nodded slowly in greeting to the three people in front of her:

"I understand this is a lot to take in. Don't worry, a lot of Muggle families are facing this rather brutal discovery. Your gifts, Hermione, are precious, your magic must not be wasted under any circumstances."

"Professor?" asked Hermione hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"Aren't you going to ask me if I've made up my mind? Whether I agree to go to Hogwarts?"

McGonagall gave another small, amused smile:

"I don't think that's necessary, Miss Granger. I think you have already made up your mind, and have done so for several years now."

Hermione considered these words in amazement. She realised that she was right. That the moment this strange and mysterious woman had appeared on her doorstep, she had known.

McGonagall turned to go into the hall:

"I hope you have a very nice evening, and thank you again for the tea."

Hermione's parents greeted McGonagall, both sympathetic and terrified. She left the room, and the living room was suddenly silent. Hermione thought back to all the conversation she had just had, all the information she had just heard.

Suddenly she rushed into the hall. McGonagall had just put on her cloak and tightened it around her neck:

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Professor...is it possible to have books? So that I can read up before I go to Hogwarts, so that I can learn as much as I can before school starts, please?"

McGonagall's eyes lit up for a few seconds, and she took a few seconds to answer. She put on her crooked hat, then, looked at Hermione with her piercing eyes:

"I don't think I'm wrong in telling you that you are going to be an extremely gifted and talented witch, Miss Granger."

And with that, McGonagall walked out of the house.

Draco

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.

After returning from their morning of shopping, Draco hurried to his best friend Blaise Zabini's house to try out his new broom. Like Pansy, Blaise lived next door to Malfoy Manor, although it was a bit of a walk. His house, or rather his mansion, was larger than the Manor, yet there were only two people living there: Blaise, and his mother.

Draco got along extremely well with Blaise, but he couldn't really remember when their friendship started, like with Pansy. He had hazy memories of endless wizarding dinners where he and Pansy would sneak off to play when they were little, but Blaise wasn't one of them. Perhaps it was because of Narcissa's friendship with Mrs. Zabini that the two of them had grown closer, he couldn't remember.

Still, he considered Blaise his closest friend, the one he went to when he needed peace and quiet.

Draco climbed the stairs of the huge Zabini mansion and knocked on the door. Cooky, one of the house elves, opened the door and invited Draco to enter, which he did immediately and headed for the back door, which opened onto the gardens.

The advantage of going to Blaise's house was that it was so huge that they were very often alone in it. The other big advantage was that the gardens also housed a life-size Quidditch pitch that Blaise's mother had given him for his sixth birthday.

Draco found Blaise lying there in the grass of the garden. He had put his head between his arms and his eyes were closed, as if he was sleeping in the sun. Draco often wondered what Blaise did when he wasn't there, since his mother was always away. Draco would be deeply annoyed. Maybe Blaise was, but he liked being, or he was just used to living alone.

"Hey Blaise! Look at this!" shouted Draco from across the garden.

His friend opened an eye and watched the broom Draco was holding. When he was close enough, he replied:

"A Comet 260?"

"Yes! My mother bought it for me this morning. What do you think?"

Blaise simply shrugged and stood up. Draco let the little sting of disappointment pass that his friend was not jealous of his new acquisition. He should have expected it, Blaise was always calm and collected in any situation, he was far too wise for his age. Draco didn't mind, it kept him from getting too big a head around him.

"Shall we practice with it?" asked Blaise.

Draco nodded and helped his friend get the Quidditch equipment out of the cupboard next to the pitch. Then Draco mounted his Comet 260 for the first time and felt the excitement prick his stomach. He took off into the air, enjoying the smooth feeling that a new broom always gave him before speeding across the pitch to test it. When he was next to Blaise again, the latter was smiling:

"So, do you like it?"

"Yeah! It's super fast, it picks up speed at height!"

Blaise chuckled as he pulled on his gloves, then grabbed onto the handle of his broom:

"Then we'd better train you before Hogwarts if you still want to make the team."

Draco and Blaise then began to play in the July heat. Draco's broom was really fast and much more comfortable than his old ones.

Blaise was very good at Quidditch, especially as a Chaser, but he wasn't interested in joining the Hogwarts team. Draco hadn't looked any further, perhaps out of reassurance that he wasn't competing with him. But now that he saw Blaise throwing the Quaffle so accurately, he really wondered why he didn't want to use his talents for the Slytherin team.

After more than three hours of practice, Draco stopped the game and they returned to dry land, then went to Blaise's kitchen for a snack. Then, a little too quickly for Draco, it was time for dinner, and he said goodbye to Blaise and went home.

Draco walked up the main street of the village with his broom under his arm. As soon as he walked through the door of Malfoy Manor, the mood changed completely. Draco had had such a good afternoon with Blaise, laughing and eating, that it was like a cold shower when he arrived in the hall of his home. He could hear his parents' shouting coming from the dining room as he put his broom down in the hall.

He was careful not to make any noise so as not to alert his parents to his presence and quickly went up the stairs to his room to change.

After a good shower and much cleaner clothes, Draco was still sullen about having dinner with his parents. Someone knocked on the door, and when Draco opened it, he was not surprised to see Dobby.

"What?"

"Mr. Malfoy is wanted in the dining room for dinner, sir," Dobby squeaked.

"Alright."

Dobby wanted to say something else, but forced himself to be quiet and stepped aside to let Draco pass. When he arrived in the dining room, the atmosphere was awful. His two parents weren't looking at each other, and his father was still red from yelling. Presumably they had had a fight. Draco sat quietly in his seat and greeted them:

"Mother, Father."

"Good evening Draco." assented Lucius in a loud voice.

Draco almost jumped in his chair. When the plates appeared in front of them, Lucius attacked his meal furiously and Narcissa and Draco waited wisely as he took his first bite.

"So, I hear you got your letter from Hogwarts this morning," Lucius said dryly.

"Uh, yes..."

"I hope for your sake you won't embarrass me. It's not going to happen, is that clear?"

Draco swallowed hard. He wished he could have been in Blaise's shoes at that moment and eaten by himself without a parent to yell at him.

"Yes, Father."

"And I don't want to hear about you hanging out with... vermin. Though I wouldn't be surprised if Dumbledore let some Muggle-borns through Slytherin, now that we're there."

"Lucius!" exclaimed Narcissa.

"What? Isn't that right? What do you expect, letting our son go to Dumbledore's school?"

"Draco knows the values of this family." hissed his mother.

"How can you possibly know that? What makes you think he won't befriend half-bloods or worse as soon as our backs are turned?"

"I wouldn't do that!" cried Draco.

Lucius glared at him, and the boy deflated a little.

"If you were going to Durmstrang Institute, as I had originally suggested, we wouldn't be having this conversation," Lucius continued, though he was glaring at Narcissa as he spoke and not addressing his son at all. "Over there, they would have educated you properly, taught you real magic, not the blustery tricks of that loony Dumbledore."

"I already told you Durmstrang wasn't possible, I couldn't bear to have Draco that far away," Narcissa replied, her voice calm yet full of anger. "And I don't want him to become a Dark Magic fanatic. He'll get a Hogwarts education, just like you and I did, and he'll be excellent, as usual."

Draco chewed his potato but he had no appetite. He didn't like it when his parents argued like that over him, let alone in front of him. He kept glancing sideways at his father to gauge his reactions.

Lucius suddenly turned to him, his face hard:

"Do not disappoint me, Draco. I won't stand for my name being sullied by your actions at Hogwarts. You better be brilliant in class. If we put you in this school, it's a favour, you should be the best considering the level of these idiots. Only hang out with Purebloods, and Slytherins, or Ravenclaw in a pinch. I want everyone to know you."

Lucius pointed his fork in Draco's direction and he nodded, feeling the pressure crushing his shoulders.

"Yes, Father..."

"I want you to be brilliant. Your mother and I will give you anything you want, but that will stop the moment I hear the slightest negative thing about you. No more Comet 260 to congratulate you on getting a poor letter!"

"Lucius!" shouted Narcissa.

His father ignored her, still focused on Draco who struggled not to betray the slightest sign of fear or weakness under his gaze:

"Find this 'Harry Potter' and try to fraternise with him. I don't know what he has to do with the Dark Lord, but I want you to get as much information on him as you can, he's bound to be a follower of the Dark Forces. You need to find people to make yourself look good, surround yourself with naive Purebloods all the time. Is that understood?"

Draco nodded again, unable to utter a single sound. Lucius turned back to his meal, and before his parents could yell again, Draco asked permission to get up from the table and escaped as soon as his mother waved him off.

He went out the door to the courtyard and fled into the darkness. He crossed the garden, ignoring the cold wind that whipped his face until he reached the fountain. Pansy was already there, half lying on her elbows.

Draco was aware that his eyes were red and swollen, but he did not hide it. Pansy was kind enough not to point it out, even though it was rather obvious, and Draco sat down beside her without speaking. He folded his legs to rest his chin on his knees and furiously pulled the grass around him in small handfuls. She did not speak, used to this kind of entrance from him when anger had got the better of him.

He angrily wiped the tears from his cheeks and swung coldly:

"I hate my parents."

Pansy turned to him, her eyebrows furrowed:

"Not just Lucius?"

Draco shook his head angrily. His hands were shaking with anger.

"No, both of them."

"Why? What did your mother do?"

"Nothing! That's the problem! She let my dad yell at me, like always. Just because I got into Hogwarts."

Pansy didn't answer right away, perhaps to give Draco a few seconds to calm down a bit. It worked, he took advantage of the fresh air to relieve his stinging eyes and took a few breaths. She continued softly:

"I got my letter too. In a month it will all be over, Draco. We'll be at Hogwarts, we'll be free to do what we want, we won't have to see them every day."

"My father has been pressuring me to be the best and to live up to pureblood values..."

Pansy waved her hand to stop him from continuing:

"My father gave me that speech too. Don't worry, as long as we stay in our corner and get good grades, they'll be happy."

"Your dad told you about Harry Potter?"

Pansy shrugged vaguely:

"Yes, briefly. Why?"

"My dad is obsessed with the idea of me becoming friends with him. He thinks he's going to be a Dark Lord, or something."

"Maybe. He's the only person who survived the Death Spell, and from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself, at that. If he's that strong, he'll definitely be in Slytherin, it won't be hard to be friends with him after that."

Draco was reassured. He stopped taking the handfuls of grass and looked up at the sky, which didn't have many stars that night. He thought about what his father had said and Pansy's words. All he had to do was behave well and his father would be proud of him.

After a while he turned to her. Her cheeks were a little red from the icy wind, but her skin was as pale as ever. Her hair was loose and perfectly slicked back, as usual, in a black bob that fell over her shoulders and she brushed aside the strands that flashed before her eyes from time to time. She was looking at the stars, but her eyes were clouded, she was thinking of something else. Draco wondered what.

They stayed like that for a long time, without saying anything to each other. Draco thought about Hogwarts. He had never needed to make friends until now, because his two best friends, Blaise and Pansy, had been there forever. He knew other people his own age from the Pureblood family dinners he had to attend. But Draco had never met anyone else his age outside of those specific circumstances.

"Pansy?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think we'll make friends there?"

Pansy thought about the question for a few seconds before answering:

"I don't know, I hope so."

"You have friends."

He thought of Millicent Bulstrode or Daphne Greengrass, whom Draco knew by sight, but nothing more.

"Yes, but I don't really need them. I'm fine on my own, with you."

Draco sat up as he heard this and moved to face Pansy, who frowned but straightened in turn, asking:

"What?"

"Can we make a promise to each other?"

Pansy's eyes glowed for a few seconds.

She and Draco had some sort of game, dating back to when they were kids. They'd made it up after hearing Pansy's father talk about the Unbreakable Vow. They had called it "the promises". All you had to do was promise something, anything, when the other person asked for it. If one promised, one was obliged to do so, otherwise the other would never speak to him again.

Neither of them had ever broken a promise in their lives, they considered it the greatest sign of trust and friendship possible. When they were kids, it was mostly promises to keep secrets from each other, then as they grew up, it became "date promises", and the other would do anything not to miss them.

Draco had made a habit of promising Pansy whenever she asked, but also himself, like "I won't cry in front of my father", or "I'll send letters to my mother from Hogwarts once a week". It was forbidden to break a promise as soon as it was made.

"Can we promise to stay friends?" he asked.

Pansy cocked her head to the side. This way, she was nothing like the girl who was all dressed up at their parents' dinner parties: her dress was wrinkled and almost came up to her waist because she had rolled it up so carelessly, and most of all, she had a mischievous look in her eyes that only Draco knew.

"Because we weren't already planning to do that?" she said wryly.

"Now we'll be forced to stay friends. I'm not talking about the stupid little fights we'll have, because we'll definitely clash. I'm talking about a real friendship, the kind that resists all arguments, even the most difficult ones. We'll never break up, we'll always be there for each other, all our lives. Promise?"

Draco held out his little finger, waiting for his best friend's answer. She seemed to think for a few seconds, then sealed the promise by grabbing his pinky with a smile.

Draco lay back down on the grass. When he was like this, next to Pansy in the night with fresh air, it was much easier to be soothed. They were both deep in their own thoughts, and the moment stretched out as long as possible until Pansy got up to go home because of the late hour.

"Good night Draco."

"Good night Pans'."

"And, Draco?"

"Yes?"

"Don't say you hate your mother. It's not true, I know you love her, and she loves you too. I'd like to have my mother, too."

She didn't say this in a mean tone, but rather as advice. Draco didn't answer, but Pansy probably expected it because she was already heading back to the hedge at the bottom of the garden to go home.

Draco thought about Pansy's words for a long time. Then, lulled by the sound of the fountain beside him, he fell asleep under the stars.