Chapter Text
(image sourced from Pinterest)
On the morning of the 1st September 1991, Hermione Grace Dagworth-Granger opened her eyes and practically flew out of bed. She had barely slept the night before, far too excited to know that the next day was one that she had been waiting so very long for. She rushed to the bathroom attached to her bedroom, and after showering and dressing, she waited patiently for Lissy the elf to appear, ready to help wrangle her curls into submission.
When Lissy arrived with a quiet pop, her little face was tear-stained, and she nearly wailed when she noticed Hermione sitting on a little footstool waiting for her.
“Oh my Missy, I will miss you so,” the elf cried.
“Don’t worry, Lissy. Before you know it it will be Yule and I’ll be home again! Which dessert should we attempt this year?” Hermione asked, desperately trying to put a smile on the elf’s face.
Lissy sniffed a few times, taking deep breaths to calm herself. She nodded resolutely. “If you learn a fire making spell before Yule then we should try a crème brûlée.”
“Very good, I look forward to it.”
Lissy set to work, her nimble fingers coiling curls and twisting them away from Hermione’s face. She sighed seeing Lissy’s creation form expertly.
“Now I might cry. What will I do without your hair expertise every morning?”
Lissy tutted, playfully tapping Hermione on the shoulder with a comb, giggling as she scolded her. “Don’t tease Lissy! I know that Mrs has taught you many hair charms - you are just lazy!”
The two of them fell into fits of laughter until Hermione’s mother appeared at the door.
“What on earth is going on in here?” she asked, a warm smile on her face. Lissy winked at Hermione’s reflection in the mirror, before disappearing with a pop.
“Oh my darling, my Hermione full of Grace,” Mother said, wrapping her arms around Hermione’s shoulders. Hermione catalogued her mother’s face in the mirror, the similarities that she shared with her. Her dark brown eyes, dark hair and olive complexion had been passed on from mother to daughter, but Hermione’s curls, they were all her father - Harlan Dagworth-Granger, who was most likely at that moment hidden away in the kitchen, having a cry with Lissy, the pair of them distraught that it was finally time for her to leave for her first year at Hogwarts.
Hermione was so ready though, and she had been counting down the days ever since she received her Hogwarts letter nearly a year ago. She had devoured all of her school books at least twice, and begged her parents to let her supplement her reading with books that she wouldn’t really need until she was in second year.
She paired her preemptive learning with badgering her parents with question after question about what it was like to live in the castle. Their home was lovely, a beautiful manor with large grounds surrounding them, most of them full to the brim with bright flowers, plants and potions ingredients that would be used for the family business. However, the idea of living in an actual castle? That was a dream come true for a girl who, when she was seven years old, for two weeks would only respond to her name being called if it followed the moniker ‘Princess’.
They made their way downstairs, where Hermione saw her father staring morosely at a painting she had painted for him for his last birthday. She shared a disbelieving look with her mother.
“Oh, here she is, my baby girl,” he said, walking over and pulling Hermione into his arms, hugging her tightly. “Circe, but would you look at her, Ari? When did she get so grown up? Who allowed that to happen - because it certainly wasn’t me.”
“Silly wizard,” Mother said, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek before sitting at the table. The three of them were soon joined by Lissy and Juno, the family’s other elf who worked alongside Hermione’s father in their apothecary.
The family enjoyed a delicious breakfast. Lissy had prepared all of Hermione’s favourites; fresh fruits, pastries and pancakes filled her plate and she savoured every last bite with relish. Lissy tried to encourage her to have seconds but Mother placed a gentle hand on Lissy’s arm, saying that it was about time to get ready to leave. Lissy nodded, her eyes forming with tears, whilst Juno only rolled hers at the display.
“Goodbye little Missy,” Juno said, hopping down from the table and walking over to hug Hermione. “Be a good girl now, won’t you?”
“Thank you, Juno. I will, I’ll miss you,” Hermione said. “Look after everyone for me.”
Saying goodbye to Lissy was a much more drawn out affair in comparison, and by the time Hermione pried Lissy’s hands off of her arm, they were nearly running late. She stood at the fireplace, trunk and bags in hand and Father threw some floo powder into the grate. He called out for Platform 93⁄4 and stepped through, but his foot met resistance and he nearly lost his balance.
“Damn it,” he muttered, checking his watch. “We’ve left it too long, I bet we’re hitting the rush to use the fireplace on the platform. Ah well,” he shrugged, dusting the powder off of his hands, “guess that’s a sign, it’ll have to be home school for you, Hermione.”
Hermione tilted her head, unimpressed.
“Nice try, Harlan,” Mother said, rolling her eyes. “Come on,” she said, shrinking down Hermione’s belongings and putting them in her cloak pocket. “We’ll just disapparate and use the muggle entrance.”
“Oh, Mother, no!” Hermione protested. “I hate side-along! It makes me feel so sick.”
“I know, darling, I’m sorry, but if we wait for the floo to clear you might miss the train,” Mother replied, holding a hand out for Hermione to take. Hermione nodded reluctantly, and then that was replaced with a scowl when Father cheerily pointed out that it was a good job she hadn’t had seconds after breakfast, or it would likely all end up on the floor of the train station.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
They arrived without fanfare, and luckily Hermione had managed to hold her stomach. As they entered Kings Cross Station, her nausea was immediately replaced with anticipation. This was it! She was so excited she could practically feel it rolling off of her in waves. She urged her parents to walk quicker but they seemed reluctant to rush, instead both strolling hand in hand with her through the station.
They were walking past Platform 5 when a very large-stomached man nearly bumped into them, and he had a horrible mean glare on his face as he side-stepped out of the way. In the space just behind him, watching him leave, stood a boy with very messy, very dark hair that was sticking out in every direction. Hermione imagined what Lissy would like to do with an unruly mop such as his. Her eyes tracked over the rest of him, his pale, panicked looking face, his round glasses with tape across the bridge and his oversized, tatty clothes. Hermione wondered if he was perhaps homeless, and maybe he slept rough in the train station.
She had spent a fair amount of time in Muggle London, so she knew that that was common enough. That was until her gaze landed on his trunk, and the regal looking snowy white bird sitting on top of it in a cage.
“Oh!” Mother must have made the same observation. “Are you going to Hogwarts? First year?” she asked kindly. The boys eyes widened dramatically, and he nodded quickly.
“Yes, I am. But.. I don’t know.. my ticket says Platform 9 3⁄4, but there must have been mistake.”
Hermione peered over at the ticket in his hand, but it looked fine to her. It was the same as hers, and she had studied hers intently.
“Are you a muggle-born?” Father asked amiably.
The boy shifted his head from side to side. “I guess so?”
He guessed so? How could he only guess so?
“Did you not have one of the professors visit you at your home? I’m sure that they’re supposed to explain how the train works.. Is that not right, Ari?”
“Well.. Hagrid came and found me.”
“Hagrid? Circe, that’s surprising. I didn’t think that would be well suited to him,” Father muttered, before clapping his hands together. “Anyway! What say we help you onto the platform then, young..?”
“Oh, sorry,” the boy said hastily. “I’m.. Ha- happy to meet you. I’m Dudley.”
Father smiled toothily. He really could make friends with just about anyone, and this random kid seemed to be no exception. “Well, I’m very happy to meet you as well, Dudley. I’m Harlan,” he said, shaking the boys hand. “Harlan Dagworth-Granger. And this is my wife, Ariadne, and our daughter, Hermione. She’s also about to start her first year.”
“Hello,” Dudley said. Hermione said hello back, but in all honesty she really didn’t care much for this Dudley boy, she just wanted to get on the train. Her father must have sensed her impatience as he led the boy over in the gap between Platforms 9 and 10, and explained that all he had to do was simply walk through the brick wall between them, as easy as that!
The boy looked up at him as if he was speaking Gobbledegook, and Hermione sighed, shifting her weight.
“This is ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath.
“Be nice,” Mother said quietly, “this boy has been left on his own by that beastly man. He’s eleven, like you, but look at the size of him. I’d think he was more like eight years old.” She reached a hand out for Hermione to hold on to. “I named you Hermione Grace because grace is the gift I wished for you to give to the world. Please remember that, darling. We know the likes of your classmates, don’t get swallowed up in their hatred. Please, I wouldn’t be able to bear it.”
Hermione nodded, offering a promise that she would remain true to herself. Only when she heard that did Mother allow her to walk through the brick wall, appearing on the busy platform.
The Hogwarts Express was magnificent. All red and shiny and gleaming. It looked as if it were brand new, but Hermione knew that it was a part of history. A history that she would now share.
Before she could bolt off and find a seat, her parents pulled her back, the two of them enveloping her in a tight hug.
“Oh, my sweet girl, we will miss you so much. I’m sure that Lissy is already counting down the days. I know that I am!”
“Father, stop it,” Hermione laughed. “But I will miss you all.”
“Write to us as soon as you can, Hermione. We can’t wait to read all about it, and let us know what house you are sorted into so your father can buy every single piece of memorabilia he can get his hands on.”
Hermione snorted. That was a given, as there was one room at home that seemed to be dedicated solely to his blue Ravenclaw scarves, and Mother’s greens. They cherished their time at Hogwarts and spoke of it fondly, as that was where they had met and fallen in love.
“Oh,” he laughed, “I won’t miss the two of you ganging up on me!”
“Where did Dudley go, Harlan?” Mother asked. Father replied saying that he was eager to just get on the train so he had helped him load his trunk and waved him off.
“He seems shy, but nice enough. Maybe you could reach out to him, Hermione? You’re lucky that you already have friends starting, it must be horrible to turn up without knowing anybody else.”
Hermione agreed, and after what her mother had said on the other side of the platform, she did feel a little bit guilty for dismissing the boy. She would try her best.
Mother unshrunk Hermione’s trunk to full size, and after a tearful goodbye, she finally made her way on to the train. She found an empty carriage and quickly situated herself down in the seat closest to the window so that she had the perfect spot to wave goodbye to her parents. She waved until they were tiny dots in the distance, and then sat back in her chair, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.
She was interrupted by the loud bang of the compartment door opening.
“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”
Hermione’s eyes popped open at the sight of her friend. “Susan!” she yelped, leaping up out of her seat and hugging her, the two of them giggling together.
“Oh,” Hermione said, pulling back as she noticed a blonde girl standing just behind Susan. “I’m so sorry, who’s this?” she asked.
“This is Hannah Abbott,” Susan beckoned the other girl into the compartment and Hermione introduced herself.
The three of them fell quickly into easy conversation. Susan had been her closest friend for as long as Hermione could remember. Her parents had been murdered during the war and she was left to be raised by her aunt, Amelia, who doted on her, but as the head of the DMLE, worked long hours and couldn’t leave Susan at home on her own.
Hermione didn’t know how her parents knew Amelia, but they offered their home to Susan whenever Amelia needed somebody to mind her, and the two young witches became thick as thieves. Lissy would often end up chasing them across the grounds after they had been caught sneaking into the kitchen to steal biscuits.
Sometimes Mother’s best friend and Hermione’s Godmother, Andy would be there with her daughter Dora who was a little bit older than they were, but was so much fun.
Hermione had never met Hannah Abbott before, but she knew that Susan had, as they shared a tutor. Hermione had never had one, as Mother didn’t like the idea of Hermione being raised by anyone except her parents, so she had been taught potions by the esteemed heir of the Dagworth-Granger potions dynasty, and her mother, an incredibly clever witch for all other subjects.
After exhausting all other topics, they eventually found themselves discussing which house they thought they’d be sorted in to.
“I’m so nervous,” Hannah said, “what if there’s no house for me and they send me home. I don’t think I’m very cunning, I’m rubbish at exams, and I am as brave as a mouse,” she fretted, her eyes filling with tears. As Hermione didn’t know her very well, she left the comforting to Susan; she’d always been better with dealing with her emotions out of the two of them. Instead, she did what Lissy would do whenever she stumbled upon a teary young Hermione - cheer her up with the promise of a sweet treat.
“Here,” she said, pulling out a cauldron cake from her bag and placing it in Hannah’s hands.
“Oh,” Hannah said with a wobbly smile, “thank you, that’s so kind.”
Susan beamed proudly.
“Of course! I think I have some pumpkin juice in here if you want it. Oh Circe, no!” she pulled out the bottle but the lid had been damaged and it ended up soaking the front of her robes. She tutted, pulling the damp material away from her.
“I’m just going to go and get in my uniform now I think, excuse me.”
Hermione left the compartment and headed for the nearest toilets. She quickly changed into her school robes, secretly delighted to have had a genuine reason to get changed into them early. She knew a spell that would remove the pumpkin juice, and she was pretty sure she could execute it, but she just really wanted to be prepared.
She left the toilets and stumbled upon a round faced, chubby boy wandering up and down the hallway, tears streaming down his face.
“Are you alright?” she asked. The boy looked up, quickly wiping his tears on the sleeve of his jumper.
“H-have you seen a t-toad?” he asked, hiccuping. “I’ve l-lost mine, my Gran’s going to k-kill me.”
Hermione shook her head. “No, sorry I haven’t.” The boy nodded and she went to move past him and carry on back to the girls when she heard Mother’s voice in her head. Hermione full of Grace. She could practically feel her stare on her, as if she was also present on the train.
Hermione pulled a face, before replacing it with a serene smile as she turned to face the boy. “But how about I help you look?”
He nodded eagerly, introducing himself as Neville Longbottom, and Hermione filed the information away. She had never met him before, and as far as she knew, not many others had either. His Grandmother kept him on a short leash and she was apparently a rather formidable witch.
When Hermione told him her name, she watched as an uncomfortable look passed his face, but it was gone a second later. If he could keep his mouth shut then there was no issue, so the two of them began their search for a toad.
They divvied up the tasks, with the seemingly shy Neville content to check in any little gap he could find down the walkway, and Hermione who had never shied away from anything knocking on the doors of each compartment asking if anybody had seen a toad.
Nobody had, and so on they continued, with Hermione trying to calm Neville’s panic unsuccessfully. Hermione knocked on another door, noticing that Dudley was sitting in it across from a ginger boy, and they had a large selection of sweets on the seats next to them. She placed a smile on her face, opening the door.
“Hello again, Dudley. I don’t suppose you’ve seen a toad anywhere on the train? Answers to Trevor.”
“Dudley?” the other boy spluttered with a laugh, opening his mouth mid-chew, showing Hermione the contents. She grimaced at the sight, and the boy swallowed. “That’s Harry Potter!” he exclaimed.
Hermione’s head swung back to look at Dudley, who had a sheepish look on his face and was avoiding looking at her, his focus on trying to kick the other boy in the shin.
“I beg your pardon?” Hermione asked, and Dudley cleared his throat, straightening up in his seat.
“Err, yeah. Sorry, I lied, my name isn’t Dudley. I’m Harry Potter.”
“You lied?” she asked. “To my father, who only wanted to help you onto the platform?”
“Yeah, well.. yeah. I just.. I went to the Leaky Cauldron once and everyone was coming up to me, asking to shake my hand and thank me, I just.. sorry, but I didn’t want to have to do that again.”
“You’re mental, mate! They should be thanking you!”
Hermione looked down at the ginger boy with terrible manners. Harry shrugged his shoulders, clearly uncomfortable.
“Right, well have you seen a toad anywhere? A boy called Neville’s lost his.”
“I thought you said his name was Trevor?” Ginger piped up. Hermione glared at him.
“The toad is called Trevor, and he belongs to Neville. You know what? Never mind,” Hermione groused, stepping out of the compartment, slamming the door and pulling Neville who had been hovering behind her further down the hallway. They only took a few steps before Neville let out a huge gasp, crouching down next to an empty sweets box.
“Trevor!” he yelped, and stood back up, showing Hermione his toad proudly. “We found him! Thank you, Hermione.”
She smiled and waved him off when he asked if he’d like to join her in his compartment, although he was unsure if there was any space left in it by now. She declined, saying she’d already had one anyway, and Neville nodded before retreating. Hermione was just about to follow when she heard her name being spoken in conversation. She crept slowly towards the door where Harry had been, and clearly in her dramatic fashion of slamming the compartment door, she had caused it to not close properly.
“-ione Dagworth-Granger.”
Hermione heard the other boy suck in a disapproving breath. “I dunno mate, I’ve heard that her family are rotten. My mum told me once that her aunt and uncle on her mum’s side were like.. you know. And they’re twins as well! Disgusting. People marry their cousins and that’s weird enough, but the Carrows? Eugh. I’d stay well away, Harry.”
“Really? That’s so.. eugh, that’s foul,” Harry said.
“Yep!” the other boy replied. “You stick with me, I’ll make sure you don’t go wrong.”
“Yeah, alright.. I will. It’s weird though, her parents seemed nice. I’d never have thought that they’d be wrong-uns like that.”
Hermione ran her tongue over her teeth, trying to calm herself down. How dare he? How dare that repugnant boy spread lies about her. The comment about Mother’s brother and sister (she absolutely refused to call them her aunt and uncle) was so unnecessary - and what had she done to deserve it? Absolutely nothing.
Well, like attracted like, and if this boy was going to lie about her, and Harry flipping Potter was going to lie about who he was, then the two of them were well suited to each other. Her father may be excitable and chatty, but there’s no way he would have fawned over the boy if he’d known that he was Harry Potter, he would have treated him exactly the same.
Although, if he was Harry Potter, why had he been left by that awful man in the train station. Hermione knew that you couldn’t always tell, but he didn’t give the impression that he was a wizard. She was sure that his story books were all fictional, but that didn’t answer why the supposed Boy-Who-Lived was so.. underwhelming.
She shrugged it off, forcing herself to act unbothered. She flounced away from the door, ready to head to find her friends.