No Matter what, you will always be Ours

by BlackSwan130702

When she gets her letter to attend Hogwarts a year earlier than most Hermione feels hopeful for her future, excited to gain knowledge and skill and most importantly take her chance at true happiness. But is she all she appears to be on the surface, an orphaned muggle-born book-worm? And is her life nothing but a smoke screen for a sinister plot that wrecked the lives of many?

2. chapter 1 - A Strange girl

Note: Trigger warning: talk of physical child abuse in this chapter. Please read with caution.

Edited 29/12/2024

~ Sydenham - The Haven Home for Girls ~

~ June 1st 1991 ~

~Hermione Jean Granger's POV ~

The sunlight streamed through the ancient attic window, lighting the small, damp and dust ridden space with beams of light, The light highlighting the dust and grime that clung to every surface as far as the eye could see. The attic had long ago seen better days. With many of the wooden beams riddled with rot and mites from years of London's harsh weathers and neglect. There were holes dotted around the floor where the wood had given away entirely. The corridor below visible in patches through the rotted wood and whatever space available, that was not at risk of falling down to the rooms below, was filled with box upon box of files and other items that had been left behind by past children of the home. Each box contained a piece of The orphanage's history, filled with hidden knowledge of the world and the inhabitants of The Haven that had come before her and with her, ripe for the picking.

The run down storage dump that the attic had become was a sanctuary for the youngster. A place where knowledge and solitude offered her the chance to exist without the constant strain of following Matron's rules or avoiding the other girls she lived with. She stole herself up here for the majority of her days when she wasn't at meals or classes. Much preferring the rotted wooden planks to the other inhabitants. The fact that none of the other girls would dare follow her up here was an added bonus to her. For Hermione found much more pleasure in books than she did people. People and being around said people was something she absolutely avoided most religiously. Not that she had always been that way. But after 3 failed foster homes and two failed adoptions, not to mention the couple that had actually adopted her at age six only to return her to the orphanage that had become her one constant at age seven and a half because she was too strange. She had soon found herself placing little stock in other people because she had come to learn that trusting in others would only ever lead to her own heartache at the inevitable rejection she would face from them. A reoccurring pattern that the brunette had identified long ago. So she had withdrawn from the social norm of building relationships with actual people and immersed herself in books. Taking comfort in all the knowledge they had to offer, and up here in the attic she had a world of knowledge to explore in those boxes, hidden from the continued disappointment she felt at humanity.

It was long ago, that she had found her own files. Located in a small cardboard box that was covered in dust, relatively close to the empty walkway leading to the attic door. She had been curious to know what knowledge the orphanage had on her, tendrils of hope grasping at the edge of her subconscious as she imagined what her real parents could have been like. Like many of those that stayed within the walls of the haven, Hermione too had allowed herself to wonder what it would have been like to have grown up within her birth family, to have had brothers or sisters she could turn too when she was sad or lonely, it would have been wonderful. She was sure, to have belonged to a family that loved and adored her as much as she did them. But for the little brunette her perfect image of what could have been squashed so very quickly upon opening the box. The box itself was plain and rather worn, years of dust sat upon the murky brown cardboard, with only her name written on the outside. Inside the box didn't hold much she didn't know already about her life, much to her disappointment. The only new information she had found came in the form of the thick baby blankets she had been wrapped in the day she was left at the orphanages door step. Both were thick and soft. A pink one and a lilac one. The lilac one contained three initials that made no sense to her. A.A.D stitched elegantly in the corner. The pink one was plain but both looked expensive despite the dust that clung to them. She had taken them out the box of course. Refusing to put them back in the dusty little box from whence they had been stored to gather even more dust. They were after all the only tangible link she had to her parents. She had to wash them, not much liking the damp musty smell that clung to them from years of poor ventilation and neglect. Hermione made a vow to keep them with her wherever she went, the blankets offering her a strange sense of comfort she was all too willing to cling too.

The small box also contained a letter. Written on thick brown paper in ink rather than pen. As the little brunette read the words of her birth family, she watched silently, tears streaming down her face as all her hopes of having that happy ever after when she reunited with them was ripped cruelly from her with so few words. The letter in which she hoped her birth family described how heartbroken they were to be forced to give their child up read nothing of the sort, merely stated that her name was Hermione. Her birthday was November 19th 1981 and that her parents did not want to be traced by her in the future. As the family she was born into did not want anything to do with her.

When she had first read it, she had barely turned eight and the words had stung deeply. Each syllable sinking into her mind and heart with a venom that promised to linger long after the letter was faded and gone.

It had.

Even now the recollection of those words echoed painfully within Hermione's heart. It seemed that the words written by those that should have loved her fiercely became the cement that hardened Hermione and held her distrust for others firmly in place. She held people at arm's length now. Particularly after the Granger's had abandoned her back here in this godforsaken place merely a year after they had legally adopted her. The 'strangeness' that had always followed her became too much for them to tolerate. Dr's Graham and Jean Granger were strict, no nonsense individuals who ran their own Dentistry Practice and as such their tolerance to the unexplainable had been almost non-existent.

Hermione however had done all she could to be the perfect well behaved daughter they had wanted her to be. But despite her manners, her studious mind and her warm personality, Hermione had never quite managed to live up to what the Grangers demanded and so they had given her back. The strange incidences that she seemed to cause whenever she had felt any strong emotions about something made them fear her. Which only increased their belief that the brunette Was not a good fit for them as over the year the more she felt them pull further and further away from her the more strange things happened around her. She witnessed them grow more distant and detached with every incident. Each flower vine and floating cup pushing them further from her and there hadn't been a thing Hermione could do about it. Where once they had been warm, affectionate and tender to her in the beginning. They became distant, emotionally cold and had ensured that they never got within a foot of her if they were in the same vicinity as her, as if they feared she would harm them.

Not that she had ever harmed anyone in her life. Nor would she ever intentionally do so. The brunette had no idea what caused the incidents or how and why they always happened and as such she never had any control as to when the incidents happened. They had all been perfectly harmless incidents. Flowers growing up walls. Grand bouquets of Narcissus or Fleur de Lis in magnificent purples. Electronic devices breaking, sparking uncontrollably or outright dying mid use without any apparent cause. Random items flying in the air without being touched, lamps that suddenly floated or chairs or even the neighbour's cat once. Hermione had no understanding as to why it always happened but the people around her had quickly deduced that Hermione was the only constant in the incidents and therefore must be at fault. It had meant that the brunette was often isolated, bullied or blatantly despised by others.

However despite Hermione finding the unexplainable floral displays that clung to the walls closest to her to be beautiful and grounding, the Grangers, like her peers, found it "freakish" and "Evil" and as a result all she had left to remember her almost happily ever after was their name. Now permanently attached to her own singular first name that had been given to her by her birth parents. It was a bittersweet thing, a reminder that she had almost been wanted, that she had almost been loved and as such it now stood to torment her, Hermione Granger, the girl that had been abandoned by her parents, not once but twice. A fact that was unheard of and made her a pariah within her home.

The deep gruff voice that called her name from the ground floor was enough to shake the little brunette from her inner musings and unfortunately from her book - American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis (because only the literature designed for those with a much more advanced mind than her age was of a calibre that held her and even then it only slightly challenged her intellect.) Matron Eleanor's voice sounded impatient but just as loud as usual. The booming gravely tone startling her whenever she had to hear it. The woman - a plump woman with her hair tied up tightly in a bun was not much taller than Hermione. She was a no nonsense type of person who had little patience for fools who stood merely 4 foot 7 high. But despite her stature the brunette knew not to cross the elder woman or deviate from the behaviours that her Matron deemed as proper or respectable for a young lady. Her punishments were cruel and from first hand experienced had never failed to have anyone regretting their actions almost instantly. Many a time as a younger child Hermione had ended up being met by the harsh end of a leather belt and made to stand for hours on end in dark corners nursing her bruised skin. Though the worst punishment she had ever received without competition she received the day she was abandoned back at the orphanage by the Granger's. Matron had been livid to learn of her displays of Evil and had proceeded to belt the brunette while lecturing her on ruining her only chance of having a family with such disgusting acts as no one would ever want her now. An abandonment after adoption was unheard off and to have one against her name would warn any potential family off before they had even met her. She had then been made to stand in the corner of Matrons office for seven hours. Her back throbbed, raw with pain from the welts and her legs felt as if they had seized afterwards. Though the entire time Hermione couldn't help but wonder why anyone would divulge that information before meeting her if it was that harmful to her prospects as an adoptee. Surely Matron could just not broadcast that she had been returned right? The following week proceeded with agonising slowness. Hermione feeling every painful second of it as her body, beaten and bruised was only permitted to eat one slice of bread and drink one small cup of water per day. Enough to sustain her but not help her heal. By the end of that week Hermione had been in agony, she had been dehydrated, exhausted, starving and livid with the entire world around her. So much so that the dorm room walls had become over grown with white Narcissus flowers by the end of that night when she was returned to her bed. The flowers labelling her more strange than already deemed by those around her. Though her punishment seemed to soften her dorm mates to her slightly. Where they had once relentlessly bullied her for her strangeness they now steered clear of her, and when they did interact with her she was treated with a weird sense of pity, something she despised more than she did the bullying. But the brunette supposed seeing someone you had known for years bruised and half starved would soften even the most hard hearted of people towards them.

Such was the story of her life though. She was Hermione Jean Granger, the strange girl. She sighed, standing quietly and tucking her book behind a box beside the window out of the way of any prying eyes before climbing down from the attic through the small square hole, closing the latch behind her. She didn't expect anyone to venture in to her sanctuary but the brunette would much rather keep her things hidden from all those that would aim to take from her. When she reached the bottom of the attic stairs she dusted off her uniform skirt and her blouse, shaking the material free from any dust or wrinkles that would surely attract her matrons ire. Quickly checking that the wild brunette curls she sported at the top of her head were neatly pulled back into a ponytail she set off towards the woman's voice. Matron hated when she had her hair down or loose and had made it loudly known just how scruffy the brunette looked with her curls loose. Hermione didn't care what she looked like, it wasn't like she had to be presentable for anyone anyway but she did much prefer avoiding trouble and therefor complied with matrons expectations for her hair as best she could.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs the brunette stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of her Matron and a rather acentric looking older woman. Matron looked flabbergasted her face pulled in to an odd expression that made her look more than a little constipated, She could tell her care giver was wary and more than a little confused as she stood before the eccentric looking stranger, while the stranger looked nothing short of unamused and slightly uncomfortable as her gaze wandered the downtrodden hallway furnishings, tense lips downturned subtly as the woman took in what she was seeing. Hermione tried not to let the woman's obvious judgement of her home colour her opinion of the woman before they had even spoken. The woman was wearing an emerald green cloak that covered the majority of her body, though from what Hermione could see of what was under it, she had on a matching dress that fell to her feet, her black boots just barely visible below the hem. A large black, pointed hat atop her head and her brunette locks were pulled back tightly in a bun at the base of her neck. It was an odd look, one Hermione hadn't seen before and it filled her inquisitive young mind full of questions. Especially as the woman's attire made her look a little like she had imagined Merlin to look like from the Arthurian legends she had discovered the summer before.

"Ah, Hermione there you are girl. This woman, Professor McGonagall that is, has come to speak with you regarding your future education. You may take her to the study. You shan't be disturbed in there" her Matron's gruff voice cuts her off mid thought before she can form the words to voice any of those questions and the youngster supposes that it may have been for the best. She would have been scolded for being so rude as to impose her questions on an elder if she had caved to temptation in front of her Matron. After all her Matron had drilled it in to them all that it was rude to assume any child's voice should be heard in the presence of guests - no matter what clothes they wore.

The strange looking woman, who had at some point stopped scrutinising the thread bare walls of the Haven and turned deep emerald eyes to Hermione, offered her a warm smile, a much more genuine and gentler expression than that which had adorned the elder woman's so far and Hermione found herself returning it, instinctively. The little brunette curtsied politely in greeting, acknowledging the woman she had been directed to address by her Matron before offering her Matron a polite nod of thanks and goodbye. She gestured for the stranger to follow her, leading the way. They traipsed the corridor side by side, down to the very end of the dim lit area towards the office. The wooden door that signified Matrons study was half open, the light from inside ominously pouring out into the hallway. Beckoning her to enter, a silent warning or challenge clinging to the shadows that were thrown from the light.

Hermione wasted no time on her hesitation, Her mind telling her that as she was unsure of who this strange woman was and therefore she had to remain stoic, her neutral expression pinned in place as she refused to let her fear of this particular room show. The brunette drew herself up to full height. Her back poker straight like matron taught her, setting her shoulders as she ensured she walked with grace. Like a proper young lady, they had been taught how to walk, how to talk and how to act at every stage of their life so far at the Haven. Matron had said it would be essential and would prepare them for the outside world when they made it that far so she drew upon those skills now. Her training becoming the brunettes armour against the unknown.

"Hermione, it's lovely to meet you, my name is Minerva McGonagall, deputy Headmistress and the Transfiguration professor at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and Wizardry. I've come to discuss you attending in September" the strange woman began as soon as they were both seated. A thick Scottish lilt evident in the woman's words. Hermione turned from her seat beside the woman to stare at her curiously, an eyebrow raised in question. Her face remaining an impassive mask otherwise, not allowing to let more than that slip through as an obvious sign of her hopeful curiosity before she knew exactly what this strange woman was talking about.

As far as Hermione was concerned the woman may as well have been speaking a different language altogether. Witchcraft and Wizardry? She'd never heard of such a school before, never mind been invited to one. Yet the logical part of her brain dictated that this woman was rather crazy, magic couldn't exist in a world where science and logic dictated their reality right? However an even bigger part of the little brunette demanded she hear this woman out. Old whispered "what ifs" creeping out of the recesses of her mind like a brain worm, unwilling to be ignored. Hermione went to speak, her mouth opening and closing a few times rather comically as she tried to work out just what to say to the woman in front of her.

As if sensing the war brewing between logic and curiosity in front of her, the older woman smiled subtly before speaking once more "If I may ask dear, have things ever happened around you that you do not understand or have an explanation for? Have things floated or flowers grown without reason or cause when you are particularly upset or happy?" As she spoke the professor let her magic reach out, lifting items gently from the desk and causing the half dead plant in the corner of the room to rebloom as she saw her words sink in to the little brunettes brain. Hermione nodded, hesitantly. Both comprehension and excitement beginning to grow on her face as she watched the woman's display.

"Yes ma'am, it happens fairly often, has done since I was a small child. Matron says it's something I've always done, said there's something strange an Evil within me to cause it, are you saying that's truly magic? That I possess magic?" She exclaimed in a ramble, her mind having added up the school name and this woman's questions. Her mind momentarily forgetting to act like a lady as her excitement shone through. It made sense when she thought of it, that sense of strangeness she always felt, how different she was from her peers. The bubbling sense of something trying to escape whenever she was overwhelmed, angry or upset.

"I am indeed, saying you possess magic. You have been invited to join our incoming first year's in September if that

is something you wish for. Your matron has already agreed to let you go."

Hermione's mind exploded with questions and thoughts at that reply, her excitement growing and multiplying, almost palpable in its extreme as that strangeness inside her she now knew to be her magic swelled in response to the knowledge. A rightness settling within at the new knowledge, as if gaining it had made her entire world make sense for the first time in her life. She beamed excitedly. Smiling at this woman who was without her knowledge giving her a new sense of hope and inadvertently saving her from the monotonous teachings of the Haven's daily lessons of proper etiquette for a lady.

"I… I… Yes! I would love to go" Hermione replied as she tripped over her words in her excitement, her voice filled with wonder, coming out as a breathless plea rather than the confident affirmation she had meant it to be. Unaware of the white Nymphaeaceae flowers that had begun to bloom along the walls behind her head in intricate little spirals, climbing behind the little brunette as if her entire being was bursting forth in anticipation.

Professor McGonagall smiled in delight at her reaction and the accidental magic that was taking place in front of her very eyes and Hermione could see the warm twinkle shine within green eyes. Professor McGonagall nodded in response to her, strategically not drawing attention to the child's display of accidental magic in case it embarrassed or worried her, the older woman sensing that the youngster had been met with harshness from the non-magic folk many a time before for such displays. "We will be glad to receive you Hermione, though you are I will admit a little younger than our usual incoming students. Not by much mind you, but you will only be ten while all the other first years will be eleven or twelve. But you strike me as an ambitious witch so I have little doubt that you will be more than able to handle the year"

The professors words caught Hermione's attention, the little brunette showing her curiosity by cocking her head to the side in confusion, brows furrowing as she thinks over the professors words. "Forgive me my curiosity, Matron says it's a trait most unbecoming for a young lady but is there a reason I am to be allowed entry a year earlier than the other students ma'am?" She questions softly, trying to reel herself in. The news that she was yet again about to be different sitting uncomfortably in her gut. A sense of anxiety bubbling within her limbs restlessly.

"The head master, Professor Dumbledore has informed me it is because upon your birth our records indicated that early admittance would be a necessity for you as our register showed you to be performing high levels of accidental magic from the time you were only a few months of age, something quite uncommon in a muggle-born" at the brunette girls confused look Professor McGonagall smiled softly again. Unable to help herself at just how inquisitive and intellectual this little witch was presenting. It was endearing to the older witch to see such a young mind that was eager to learn in a way that had become increasingly rare in Wizarding Britain, a fact in which all of Hogwarts faculty had identified with Albus. The Headmaster assuring them he was aware, though unfortunately the ministry controlled the educational programme and therefore his hands were tied to a degree. Merlin knew it was frustrating but the professor hoped that in Hermione they would find the studious nature they had sorely missed as of late.

"In our world there is commonly three classes that an individual witch or wizard is believed to fit into. Some of our population put more stock into this belief than others, however, it is unlikely you will not learn of it somehow. A pureblood is the term used to describe a magical individual that has parents who are both magical themselves and can trace their magical lineage back through many generations. A half blood is a witch or wizard born to one pure blood parent and one non-magical individual, hence halfblooded. Muggle-born is the term used in the magical world for a witch or wizard born to non-magical parents or muggles as they are often referred too." The older witch explains, unable to suppress yet another smile from crawling across her usually stern features at the understanding shining in brown attentive eyes. Hermione was definitely a child that was eager to learn, Minerva thought silently.

After talking for another hour, where each class that Hermione would be expected to take was explained briefly and the older witch answered any and all questions the little brunette had, Hermione agreed to accompany the professor, the very next day, into the magical world hidden in central London to pick up the supplies she would need for her year ahead.

When the professor had said her goodbyes to Hermione and Matron with a promise to be back tomorrow Hermione took the opportunity to retreat back up to her little reading space in the attic. Eager to digest her conversation. It felt good to the brunette to know finally why so much had happened around. All the odd incidents that had, until now, been unexplainable now had an explanation. One that didn't end in someone telling her she was evil for the literal magic she displayed. Even better to know that she wasn't strange or a freak, and she most definitely wasn't the only one to possess magic. She only had a few months left before she would be going off to Hogwarts, where she would get to meet others like her. She would be surrounded by other Witches and Wizards, people that would understand all the strangeness that those here at the Haven had never been able to. It was an exciting thought. To know that there was so much more knowledge to gain waiting for her outside these four dingy walls. That there was a place where she could grow and learn without fear of Matrons punishments, somewhere new and exciting, where no one knew her. Where she wouldn't be the strange one. The girl that caused odd events to happen all around her.

She would just be Hermione. Hermione Granger, Muggle born.

She couldn't help but think it might just be her second chance for a future where she wouldn't be alone or ostracized, where she wouldn't be the odd one, it made her heart jump with joy. Her hardened exterior cracking slightly and her heart filling with hope and more excitement than she knew what to do with.

She sighed happily as she glanced out the attic window, the sun still high above her, shining brightly through the dirt riddled window pane. September couldn't come quick enough and until then, she would content herself with the knowledge that tomorrow she would get her first real glimpse at her new world.

That night as she lay in bed, she slept peacefully and for the first time since she had been abandoned back at the orphanage by Mr and Mrs Granger she wasn't plagued by nightmares. Her young heart full for once of the promise of a better tomorrow and a whole new world to explore.