Chapter Two
Summer 1991
Now who could that be? It was late in the evening and we rarely, if ever, had visitors at our home. I looked down at the odd heading of the letter again and then back to my parents. They were glancing between each other and the door.
"Just a minute!" mum called out, and walked toward me. She reached for the letter and I gave it to her; her eyes swept across the heading and narrowed, which was never a good sign, and then beckoned my father and me to follow her toward the door. Wheeling around to keep up with her quick pace, I tailed her from the kitchen and down the hall. Dad was right behind me.
The door bell rang again just as my mom reached the door. She paused as the clear, resonant bell noises reverberated around the foyer, and then reached for the door handle. Through the frosted glass in the door I could see an odd triangular shape.
"There was no need to ring again-" mum started, but cut off when she saw who was standing at the door. I couldn't blame her, because the person-woman, actually-was dressed most oddly.
The mystery woman was tall, and the triangular thing through the door was a large, pointed hat atop her thick black hair. She wore what looked like some kind of antique dress or formal gown, which she had closed rather severely at the neck. Both the hat and the robe were emerald green.
"Mrs. Granger?" the lady asked, looking at my mother. I saw her eyes cut to me for a second, and I could have sworn the briefest of smiles hit her lips.
"Yes," my mother said, somewhere between a statement and a question.
"And you must be Hermione Granger," she said, looking past mum. "Mr. Granger," she nodded.
"And you are?" mum queried.
"Oh, of course," she said. "My name is Minerva McGonagall, and I am here on behalf of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." She indicated the letter in mum's hands.
"So you can explain this," mum said, waving the parchment in McGonagall's face.
"Yes, yes, all in due time," came the response. "May I come in for a little while?"
Mum stepped back, clearly surprised at what I knew she thought was the presumption of this strange lady, but McGonagall must have taken it as an invitation inside. She crossed the threshold and closed the door behind her.
"What did you say your name was?" Dad asked, still behind me. I glanced at him and saw a wary look on his face.
"Minerva McGonagall," she said again. "I am Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts and I teach Transfiguration." I had no idea what this woman was talking about, but I was enthralled by the way she carried herself. She seemed to have no clue how odd she looked, and even now she was moving into our living room. We followed her, of course, my mum still leading the way.
"I know you all must be very confused at the moment, but I think a simple explanation will illuminate much to you." She sat down in an arm chair. Mum, dad, and I just stood there, staring at her. She motioned toward the couch. I looked up, crooked an eyebrow at them, and then took my seat in the middle of the couch. Mum and dad sat on either side of me.
"Have you read the full letter yet?" McGonagall asked. I shook my head. "Well then, why don't we let Hermione read it aloud to us?"
Taking the letter from my mother, I asked, "How do you know my name, Ms. McGonagall?"
She gave me an enigmatic smile. "All in due time, Hermione. Please just read the letter." So, taking a deep breath, I did so:
"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards." Whoever this Dumbledore bloke was, he sounded like a very important person.
"Dear Ms. Granger, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
"Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress." There was another parchment and I started to switch it to the front, but McGonagall held up her hand.
"That will be fine for now. The other sheet is a list of items you will need to purchase before term begins, should you choose to attend Hogwarts. And I do hope you attend, Hermione," she said, speaking directly to me, "because there can never be enough Muggleborns at Hogwarts."
I was so bewildered that I did not even know how to begin, let alone respond to her, and I think my parents felt much the same way. A loaded silence fell across the living room for at least twenty seconds.
"Muggleborns?" I asked. "Hogwarts?"
McGonagall gave me that odd smile again. "Let me ask you this, Hermione, and you, Mr. and Mrs. Granger: have you ever noticed anything unexplainable happen around here?"
"Like…what do you mean?" dad asked.
"For instance, has anything exceedingly strange ever occurred when Hermione's been angry or sad or very happy?" she asked him.
"Well, now that you-" dad started, but I cut him off. I didn't like people talking about me like I wasn't in the room. And besides, I was intellectually stimulated by the direction this conversation was taking.
"Yes," I said. "All the time. Especially in the last two years or so." And it was no lie, because
something always seemed to happen when I couldn't control my emotions. Perhaps this strange lady in her
green dress could clue me in as to what happened to me during those moments, when it almost felt like some force was
present inside of me.
"And have you ever tried to figure out exactly what was causing these things to happen?" McGonagall prodded further. She was looking directly at me, and I knew my parents were too, but I answered her.
"Once or twice, but I've never been able to rationalize it."
McGonagall chuckled just a bit. "That is because, Hermione, you cannot `rationalize' it. Muggles-that is, your parents-have no knowledge of what causes your outbursts, so therefore you cannot be expected to comprehend what lies within you right now."
"`Muggles?'" mum asked, sounding slightly affronted at being called something she didn't understand.
"People without magic," McGonagall explained, uncovering the knowledge, finally, that would change my life forever. Another silence settled over the living room.
"Magic?" my dad eventually asked, disbelief and incredulity and several other things underlying his question. "Magic?" he asked again, softer.
"Yes, Mr. Granger-magic." McGonagall waved at the letter in my hands. "The letterhead says `Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry'; so, naturally, Hermione is a witch."
"A what?" mum shrieked, either mishearing McGonagall-she might have been thinking `bitch'-or too completely confused to let her rational and more powerful side control her.
"A witch," McGonagall restated, calmly, and although most of my mind was spinning around that five-letter word, a tiny part knew what she was saying made sense. There were things that had no sane explanation in my life, and perhaps magic was the key to everything.
"Now, what could you possibly-" dad began.
"Honestly, I've never been so insulted-" mum said, at the same time.
But I was watching McGonagall as she drew a small stick from a pocket in her green robe and pointed it at me. I had a half second to be vaguely afraid.
"Accio parchment," she said, calmly still, and I watched, amazed, as some unseen force ripped the letter from my hands. It sailed across the room and landed in her lap. Mum and dad stopped in midsentence, mouths wide open, staring at the letter.
"How did you do that?" I asked. That tiny part that had already acknowledged magic was growing by the second.
"Magic," McGonagall replied, restating that word. "It's a summoning spell, designed to draw almost anything toward the body."
"Wha-what?" dad asked.
"I can perform magic, Mr. Granger." And then she added, almost as an afterthought, "Just like your daughter can."
"I can't do anything like that," I said, a little breathless. My parents had finally been shocked into total silence.
"Not yet, no," McGonagall said, now smiling openly at me. It was the most open I would see her face for a very long time. "But in due time, you will."
"I've only…" I started, struggling with a way to describe it. "I can only make things happen at random-like, sometimes it's felt like there's this force inside of me trying to get out. But it only ever does when I'm angry or sad or really happy."
"Hermione?" mum asked, but I wasn't listening. I was looking inside of myself.
"I don't know how to explain it, but I think some part of me always knew I was different, because I've always been waiting for something like this to happen, I think."
"Hermione, what-?"
"Maybe that's why I've never been able to get along with anyone at school," I continued. "Maybe because I knew that I didn't fit in with them. Now I know that I don't belong with them."
I looked up finally, and was surprised to find all three adults frowning at me. What had I said?
"What?"
"Hermione, do you really believe that?" mum asked. "That you've never fit in at school because you're different somehow?"
"Well, yes," I answered. That is what I had just said.
"Ms. Granger, while I do admire your analytical skills, I must correct one of your assumptions right now. Magic does not make you fundamentally different than those without it; after all, you are still a human being. It allows you to explore another side of yourself that Muggles will never have the chance to," McGonagall told me.
"Wait a second," Dad said, looking at her. "What is all this shite about magic and what was that parlor trick you just pulled?" He was obviously agitated.
"I can assure you, Mr. Granger, it was no parlor trick. What I did is real, genuine magic."
Dad still looked mighty dubious, and mum didn't look much surer. McGonagall did not seem fazed, though, and I began to wonder how many times she had done this in the past. She was obviously getting on in years, though she still looked very good. How many other parents had she had to convince of the existence of magic?
And it was just then that I realized I was convinced, and I wondered at how little it actually took, but I just attributed it to my yearning for something to set me apart from all the stupid kids that had ostracized me all of my life. Finally, there was a reason for me to be different, instead of just being different.
"Then do something else, please," mum eventually said.
McGonagall smiled and brandished her stick once again, this time at the unoccupied armchair. "Accio pillow," she said, and sure enough, the pillow flew across the room and landed in her lap.
"This is just unbelievable," mum breathed. Dad didn't look like he could say anything.
"It is," McGonagall agreed, "but there is no denying the fact that Hermione here is magical. Her name has been down for Hogwarts since birth."
"Then why are we just finding out about this now?" mum asked. Her voice had a resigned quality to it.
I noticed McGonagall frown again. "The powers that be within the Wizarding world deemed it unnecessary to inform Muggleborn students of their magical affinity until the time for them to attend Hogwarts arrived. I have long disagreed with this practice, but alas, I am just a professor. I have no power in the Wizarding government."
Dad was rubbing his temples. "There's a Wizarding government?" he asked.
"Of course. There's a Wizarding counterpart for just about every Muggle entity you're familiar with, though of necessity there are some differences. But, I am not here today to get into a discourse about the Wizarding world. I am here to ascertain whether or not Hermione will be attending Hogwarts."
I thought about it for less than one second. I would not be going back to my school. "I am."
Mum looked sharply at me. "Hermione-!"
"Well, why wouldn't I be?" I asked, voice rising a little.
"We don't know anything about this place-"
"What's there to know? I belong there, so I am going!"
"Hermione!" my dad boomed, and silence fell across the room. I was looking angrily back and forth between mum and dad. McGonagall seemed to be coolly observing all of this. "Please do not interrupt your mother like that." He paused, then: "We are not saying that you will not be going to this Hogwarts place, but we do not know anything about it. You cannot just make a decision like that."
"Hmmph," I said. I crossed my arm and slouched a little.
"So Hogwarts is a school?" dad asked. His voice was cool and rational and he seemed to have returned to some semblance of normalcy before my mother.
"Yes, Mr. Granger. It is a school in northern Scotland, in the Highlands, where magical children go for seven years."
"So, it is more of a boarding school then?"
She nodded. "Students are allowed to return home for the Christmas holidays-between the fall and winter terms-and then again between the winter and spring terms. Most students choose to remain at school during the latter, however."
"How long is the school year?"
"Fall term starts on September 1. Spring terms usually ends during the second week of June."
Dad didn't ask another question, and mum did instead. "Why should we believe any of this?"
"Mrs. Granger, I do not expect you to be completely accepting right away or ever, but there is little more proof I can offer you without breaking rules of secrecy in our world. If you are willing, you will have to go Diagon Alley-the three of you, preferably-and it is there that you will begin to understand that I have been truthful all along."
"Diagonally? What?" mum asked. I was confused myself.
"Diagon Alley," McGonagall said again. "It is the center of Wizarding commerce, located actually not too far from here."
"It's in the middle of London, and we've never heard of it or seen it before?" dad asked.
"Why yes, of course. All magical institutions are hidden from Muggles."
"Why?" I queried. This had been bothering me ever since McGonagall had said my name had been in some book since birth. If somewhere out there someone had known I was different all my life, why had they never been able to tell me before? And she had said that she could not reveal more magic to us for fear of breaking secrecy laws. It all seemed very weird.
"Well, how much do you know of American history?"
"Eh, some," I said.
"Have you ever heard of the Salem Witch Trials?"
"Yes. There was a conspiracy in the early 1600's I think involving witchcraft and the young women of Salem, and many were burned alive. But I thought that it was all a big hoax?"
"That's what the Muggle history books will lead you to believe," McGonagall informed us. "However, it was not a hoax. Petty jealousy from young women who were Muggles caused them to turn on their magical friends, and that resulted in many of the witches being put to death.
"Even before Salem, though, tensions between magical and non-magical humans had been escalating. Muggles feared and envied the power of their magical counterparts, and magical men and women began to believe that Muggles were inferior. After the Salem incident, though, nothing could be done to resolve those tensions, and so the International Statue of Secrecy was passed, and ever since, the magical world has not existed for Muggles."
"That's…awful," I said.
"It is," McGonagall said, her voice as grave as it had been since she'd walked into our house. "One of things that the Headmaster-that's the Albus Dumbledore in the letter-and I have been working on for years and years is improved relations with Muggles. If we had been more successful, you might have learned of your magical abilities long before now."
"You're not exactly painting a good picture of this world we're supposed to be sending our daughter off to for nine months out of the year," mum cut in.
McGonagall shrugged. "That is because nothing is perfect, Mrs. Granger. Your world has just as many problems-or more, even-than the magical one. We just learn to deal with things as best as we can."
"Where is this Diagon Alley place?" I wondered.
"It's off of Charing Cross Road, through a small tavern called The Leaky Cauldron. Muggles cannot see The Leaky Cauldron, but you will be able to, Hermione. Once inside, just ask Tom the bartender to show you to Diagon Alley, and he will happily help you."
"Ok."
It seemed that all of us had run out of things to say, at least for the moment. I noticed my mum and dad looking strangely at each other, and I wondered what could possibly be going through their heads. Did they believe any of this? Was I a fool to?
"It is getting late," McGonagall finally said. "I have several more families to visit before this day is over. I do not need a response at this very moment, but in the next several days I will require one."
"This is all too strange…" dad mused.
"Why don't we at least go to Diagon Alley?" I pleaded, looking back and forth between them.
"I suggest the very same," McGonagall agreed, standing and smoothing her green robe. "Keep an open mind at least long enough to see some of what the magical world has to offer." She strode around the coffee table to me and handed the letter back. "The second parchment lists everything you will need for your first year at Hogwarts." My parents stood as well. McGonagall reached out to shake hands with them, and they hesitantly did so.
"Either way you decide, there are owls for rent in Diagon Alley. I would appreciate hearing your decision, whatever it may be," McGonagall said, addressing my parents. We were walking toward the door. She gripped the door handle and pulled it open; standing in the doorway, she turned and looked at me. "For your sake, Hermione, I hope you choose to attend Hogwarts. It will change your life in ways you cannot even imagine."
She turned then and walked out into the night, the door swinging shut behind her.
---
Two uncomfortable days passed in my house. I tried to talk to my parents about all that McGonagall had said, but they seemed to want to avoid it altogether. They did not seem angry, but they were by no means happy at what had occurred. Objectively, I could understand them not wanting to send their daughter off to some school they knew nothing about for so long a time, into a world they still didn't completely believe existed, but that did not matter to me. This was an unbelievable opportunity for me in ways that I did not even begin to understand, and if they somehow tried to stymie me I would do everything within my considerable intellect to overcome that.
Finally, on the third day, I was determined to confront them about going to Diagon Alley, because the July 31st deadline for responding was coming very near. I found them both sitting in the living room early that day.
"Mum, dad," I said, "If you're not going to take me to Diagon Alley, I'm going to go myself."
"Excuse me?" dad asked, shutting off the television. Mum just looked up from her book.
"You're both avoiding this entire thing, and I don't want to anymore!"
"You really want to go to this Diagon Alley place? You're sure it exists, then?"
I gave an exasperated sigh. "Well, not completely sure, but there's only one to find out, isn't there?"
"Hermione, if we go, you cannot be too disappointed if it is not there," mum said, softly.
My parents could be just as stubborn as I. "Why would that lady, McGonagall, go through so much trouble just to have us all on? That wouldn't make sense, more than what she told us."
Mum shrugged. "I just don't want you to be too upset if it all turns out to be false."
"Ok, I won't be," I affirmed, not believing it for a second. If all of this was in fact some kind of giant hoax, I don't know what I would do. This was my chance to start over, to begin again at a new school with new people where they wouldn't know me for the insufferable know-it-all everyone at my current school knew me as. I might even be able to make a real friend at this new place. And, to top it all off, there was this idea of magic to wrap my brain around. I was excited just thinking about it all.
"Then I guess we should get going," dad said, standing. "Be ready to leave in ten minutes, and don't forget that list," he told me, though the disbelief was still evident in his voice. I grinned at them and turned on the spot, racing out of the room and up the stairs. Diagon Alley was the start of a whole new world just waiting for me to discover it.
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