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In Hermione’s Summers I will describe each summer vacation of Hermione
between her years in Hogwarts. Some years (like the first) will take multiple
chapters, while others might take fewer chapters. I had to invent certain
things around Hermione myself; like the name of her parents and the city in
which she lives.
A few things can
be considered doubtful to canon. J.K. Rowling has stated she always had in
mind that Hermione would have a little sister. That sister never appeared in
the books so far and she will not appear in this story either. J.K. Rowling
has also said a few words about the way Muggle-Born students are introduced
to world of magic. By the time the chat logs in which she said this were
placed on the internet, the first few chapters of this story were so far
finished that I could no longer change them without having to start all over.
This story is
also one of my first serious attempts to write an “undark”
story. I hope you enjoy it.
Last, but certainly not least, this story is the first one in which I work
together with my new beta-reader, Kaitie. My thanks go to her for making
suggestions and corrections to this story.
PS: I have something with the movies. If it were not for the movies, I never
would have been into Potter. Fun thingy is that I completed and uploaded the
first chapter of this Hermione story on Emma Watson’s birthday (although it
is probably later “online” because of the slight delay in the SQ). Happy birthday, Emma!J
Chapter 1: Summer 1991, A
It was the first
Saturday of July, and the weather made it a wonderful day. It was sunny and
warm, and a little breeze from the sea caused for some welcome refreshment in
the streets of Rochester.
Carrying a paper
bag containing three bagels and three croissants, a ten-year-old girl with
rather large front teeth and lots of bushy brown hair walked home, which was
currently a mess.
The girl’s father, David
Granger, was busy renovating the kitchen. Although he was not very skilled in
such work, he enjoyed it and he always managed to get the job done perfectly –
eventually. He had been working on the new kitchen for three days now and even
though his wife, Sandra, was insisting on hiring a professional to place the
kitchen, Mr. Granger did not want to hear of it. He was having too much fun
placing the kitchen himself.
“I’m back,” said
the girl to announce her presence, as she opened the front door.
“Good,” said her
father, a thin, thirty-eight-year-old man with short brown hair. His face was
sweaty of the work with the kitchen. “I could use a little break.”
The girl put the
bag on the table in the backyard and sat down next to her mother, a short
pretty woman with short brown hair, who was a year younger than her husband was.
Hermione,” her mother said as she opened the bag. “They look delicious.”
“I’ll be there in a
moment,” said Mr. Granger. “I just need to drill one more hole. I’d better do
it now before I forget it.”
“Alright, honey. Do
hurry up. The croissants are still warm.”
back and relaxed, watching her father measuring up something on the wall and
taking out the drill. She could easily watch what was happening, as she was
sitting roughly two yards away from her father. The backyard was directly next
to the kitchen, and the door was wide open.
Hermione put her
hands against her ears as her father put the drill on the wall and started to
drill. It gave a loud, screeching noise. Dad said something, but Hermione could
not clearly hear what it was as she still had her ears covered and the
screeching of the drill was too loud.
There was the sound
of a small explosion; Dad swore in pain; large stone chunks of the kitchen wall
flew around. A rather large chunk, roughly the size of a tennis ball, hurled
straight at Hermione with dazzling speed.
Hermione tried to
evade it, but she knew it would be impossible to jump out of her garden chair
fast enough. As she saw the chunk of grey stone rocket towards her, she had the
impression that it was turning white.
It hit her on the
side of her head. Hermione was sure it was large and fast enough to crack her
skull. However, it shattered into a million small pieces, sticking in
Hermione’s hair and dripping on her T-shirt, but leaving her unharmed
otherwise. It was soft, cold and wet.
mother screamed and dashed towards her. “Are you alright?!”
“I’m fine, Mum,”
said Hermione, stunned. “Just a bit scared. It did not hurt at all.”
“It’s the bloody
drill,” her father said angrily, holding his right hand with his left. “It got
stuck and just a second later it exploded in my hands. It burned my hand and
nearly injured my child. I’m going to write Grunnings a long letter about this, it’s one of their drills.”
“Let’s see, dear,”
said Mrs. Granger and took her husband’s right hand and examined it. “Those are
a few nasty burns. You should hold it in cold water for a while and let Doctor
Brown take a look at it.”
Mr. Granger sat
down at the table in the backyard, while his wife
filled a bowl with cold water for him told hold his hand in.
“Are you alright,
Hermione?” he asked.
Hermione, plucking pieces of debris from her hair. “I just don’t understand why
it didn’t hurt.”
She looked at what
she had taken out of her hair. It was white, cold and soft, but it quickly
melted in the warm summer sun. Right then Hermione realized that the hard stone
had somehow changed into something else.
whispered confused to herself.
“It must be your
guardian angel again,” her father smiled. “Remember that car?”
“Dad, that was ages
“Actually, it was
last year,” Dad said and put his hand in the bowl with water Mrs. Granger had
set on the table. “AAARGH! That’s cold…”
“It’s supposed to
be, honey,” she said with a smile.
remembered what had happened last year. How it had happened, she did not know.
Her father, although not a religious man, claimed that she had a little guardian
angel watching over her, protecting her so she could become the politician to
set certain things right in the country.
Just like today,
Hermione had been to the baker to buy bagels. The baker was just across the
street, and she was often sent if her parents needed anything. Because it was
raining extremely hard that day, Hermione crossed the street quickly and
carelessly, wanting to be home and dry as soon as possible. Then she had heard
the claxon. A car, with its brakes screeching like her father’s drill, came running
in at high speed, about to crash straight into her. Hermione saw the driver,
and clearly remembered his terrified face. However, suddenly the car lifted off
the ground, as if it were a balloon. It had literally flown over Hermione at
dazzling speed before it touched down softly again.
The driver had
stepped out, very confused about what had happened. He had a small conversation
with Hermione and her father, who happened to be the man’s dentist.
Two weeks later, he
came for his annual dental check up. That evening Dad told Hermione that the
driver could not remember the incident.
“The shock has
seemed to have wiped it from his memory,” Mr. Granger had said.
Next Monday Mr.
Granger had hired a professional to finish installing the new kitchen. His hand
had been bandaged by Doctor Brown and so he could not work in the kitchen
himself anymore. The doctor had said that the injuries on Mr. Granger’s hand
were not dangerous and would heal soon, but the bandages should stay on for a
week. Mr. Granger had sworn never to touch another drill in his life, with the
exception of his dentist tools of course.
On Tuesday morning,
Mrs. Granger was baking breakfast in her new, fully installed, kitchen. She had
opened the door to the backyard to let out the smell of the baking.
sitting at the table, reading a little until breakfast was ready, as her father
came back from the letterbox, carrying three envelopes.
“Ah blast,” he
swore as he saw the first one. “Another one from the National Health Service,
and to make things worse; the second one is from the Inland Revenues. The
government is at me again!”
For a few moments, Mr.
Granger kept silent and glanced at the third envelope.
“This is a stylish
one,” he finally said. “It seems like it’s made from some sort of ancient
parchment and it’s written in some sort of calligraphy with green ink.”
is it for?” Mrs. Granger asked, without looking up from the breakfast she was
“Miss H. Granger,”
Dad teased, tossing the envelope to Hermione.
“It is for me?”
Hermione said surprised, closing her book and taking the envelope.
examined it. Her first thought was that it was a party invitation, but she
quickly banished that thought. She did not have any friends at primary school
who would invite her and none of her cousins had a birthday coming up.
Most children in
Hermione’s class thought she was a bossy know-it-all and never talked to her
much. As she was going to CharlesDickensSecondaryDay School after the summer, she was sure everyone at
her old school would forget her. She felt a bit disappointed, but she was used
to having no friends by now. It was not that she was feeling alone, she still
had Mum and Dad.
With great curiosity,
she opened her envelope, noticing that her parents were looking just as curious
as she felt. There were several sheets of paper in it. She looked a little
closer at the paper, and realized it was not paper, but
old-fashioned parchment - the same kind as from which the envelope was made.
Hermione read the
first sheet of paper.
Dear Miss Granger,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at HogwartsSchool of
Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of necessary books and
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no
later than 31 July.
Hermione read the
letter with open mouth. She reread it three times in succession and could still
not believe it was real. A school for witchcraft, that had to be a joke.
“Are you alright,
dear?” her mother asked. “Your mouth is hanging open. What’s the letter about?”
“It’s… I… I can’t believe it,” stammered Hermione.
“What is it? Did
you win the lottery?” her father asked smiling. “Can I get a loan then? The
Inland Revenue is trying to get extra taxes from me again.”
“No,” said Hermione
sincerely. “It seems to be an invitation to some sort of… private secondary
“Really,” said Mum,
interested, dropping her attention to the preparing of breakfast. “Which one?”
Hermione looked her
mother straight in the eyes. She was not sure what to say, or if she should
laugh or not. Was this letter serious, or was it just a joke? Hermione was
quite sure of the last one.
answered Hermione a little confused.
“Never heard of
that one,” replied her mother.
Dad smiling. “I’ve been to that one, it was a great school. We had an
outrageously funny French Professor there.”
Mrs. Granger hit
her husband playfully with a towel.
“You didn’t go
there,” she said laughing. “We both went to Churchill’s.”
“Yes, I remember,”
smiled Mr. Granger. “But we still had a funny French Professor. He was a lot
funnier and easier going than a certain prefect I remember.”
“Yes, he was
“What about the
prefect, Dad?” Hermione asked interestedly.
“A certain prefect
once caught me peeking through the keyhole of the door to the girl’s
dormitory,” Mr. Granger said with a blush on his face, smiling to his wife.
“She couldn’t laugh about it and gave me detention for a week.”
“You know what I
did to that prefect afterwards?” Dad smiled.
“Of course not,”
smiled Dad, and hugged his wife. “I married her.”
again. She knew that her mother had been a prefect, but she did not know her
mother had put her father in detention. Although Hermione found it a funny
story, her mind was still with the mysterious letter from Hogwarts.
“Can I see it?” Mum
asked, taking the letter and reading it, after which she passed in to her husband.
“They can’t be serious. Some one is pulling a joke on you, Hermione. I bet it
is Uncle Michael.”
“I don’t know,” Dad
said thoughtfully. “My brother usually only picks on me with his practical
jokes… What is this? ‘We await your owl’? What is an owl? They do not mean a
bird, do they? Shouldn’t that be a pigeon then?”
through the papers a bit more and eventually started reading another paper that
looked like a letter. At a quick glance, it seemed to explain a little more,
but still Hermione was not sure. Was Uncle Michael was really behind it? Was he
pulling a big joke on her?
“Oh,” she said. “I
think this one explains something, if it is true of course.”
“What does it say,
dear?” her mother asked. “April Fools?”
“No mum,” Hermione said.
“Let me read it aloud.”
“Dear Miss Granger,
You have just received your invitation to HogwartsSchool of
Witchcraft and Wizardry. Since you were born in a non-magical (Muggle) family,
we can imagine that you have many questions and even doubts about the existence
of magic. To give answers to these questions we hereby invite you to a meeting
at The Leaky Cauldron in London.
Please meet at the Charing Cross Underground Station on 1 August at , from where you, and some of
your future schoolmates, will be guided to The Leaky Cauldron. After the meeting,
you will have the opportunity to buy your books, wand and other equipment in Diagon Alley.
During the meeting, we will introduce you to the
society in which wizards and witches live, and we will inform you about the
most important laws in our society. We shall also demonstrate some magic to
you, in case you are still sceptical (we guarantee that you no longer will be
once the meeting has ended). We encourage you to bring your parents, who are
also invited to this meeting.
During the meeting, the speakers will be Mrs. S. Shimmerfield from the Ministry of Magic and Professor M. McGonagall
from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
If you wish to attend the meeting, which we do
recommend, please write down your name at the bottom of this letter and tie it
to the leg of the return owl we will send you. We will await your owl by no
later than 15 July if you wish to attend the meeting.
We ask you not to disclose any information from this
letter to anyone but your parents and siblings.
Deputy Headmistress HogwartsSchool of
Witchcraft and Wizardry
Bureau of Muggle Relations
Ministry of Magic”
“A meeting?” said Mrs.
Granger surprised when Hermione had finished reading. “I don’t know about it.
It sounds like a weird club of people. I would like to know how they got our
address in the first place. Why do they want to be secret? ‘Do not disclose’? I
don’t think it can be trusted.”
“I don’t think it
can hurt to go, and hear what they have to say,” Dad said. “Perhaps we can have
a good laugh. If it all turns out to be a joke, we’ll just call it a day sight-seeing
“What do you think,
dear?” Mum asked Hermione. “After all, it is about you. I hope you are sensible
enough to not take it seriously.”
Hermione stared out
in front of her for a few seconds, quite convinced it was a joke. She was just
wondering who was joking on her and why. Suddenly, as if by magic, the thought
of the car flying over her came to her mind, quickly followed by the
snowball-like chunk of stone.
“I think there is
one thing that has me convinced,” she said thoughtfully. “Do you remember what
happened when Dad’s drill exploded? Maybe it is not a guardian angel? What if it is magic?”
“I think Hermione
is right,” Mr. Granger told his wife. “Even if this club of wizards appears to
be a group of freaks, they might have some answers. After that, we can make a
more honest judgment on what to do.”
“Alright then,” sighed
Mrs. Granger, as she started to set the breakfast table. “We’ll go.”
“Better return that
letter right now,” Dad whispered to Hermione. “Before your mother changes her
grabbed a pen, and tried to write down her name. The pen would not touch the
parchment. Whenever Hermione brought it close to the parchment, the pen just
deflected away to the left or right. Hermione had the feeling as if she was
trying to connect two magnets to each other with the wrong ends. Suddenly, out of
nothing, a fashionable quill and a tiny bottle of ink appeared.
Hermione, she was gazing at the inkbottle and noticing that her father was
doing the same.
said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like that.”
Her mother looked a
little worried, and prodded the bottle with the tip of her finger, as if she
were afraid that it might explode.
“I think I will
have to write down my name with that,” Hermione said and opened the bottle of
ink. A little awkwardly, she wrote down her name using the quill. She was not
used to writing with an oversized feather, but it worked out quite well.
The moment Hermione
had written down the last “r” of her surname, there was a flapping sound.
Suddenly a big eagle owl swooped down in the backyard, entered through the open
kitchen door and sat down on the breakfast table.
Mrs. Granger cried
out in fright and Hermione gave a little shriek too. She was not afraid of
birds in any way, but the sudden and noisy arrival of the owl did scare her for
a moment. Dad watched it happen with an amused smile on his face.
“I guess that is
what they mean by ‘owl’ then,” he smiled. “I’d still rather go for a pigeon.”
“I guess I have to
tie this letter to its leg then?” Hermione said unsurely. It was as if the bird
had understood what she had said, as it held out its left leg.
A little clumsily,
Hermione rolled up the parchment, sealed it with some tape and taped it to the
leg of the owl, which hooted gently and flew off the same way it had come in.
the Grangers talked about only one thing: the strange letter from Hogwarts, the
appearing ink and the owl. Hermione was still a bit stunned by it all; her
mother found it all a little weird and even dangerous. Mr. Granger seemed
highly amused. The three of them had silently agreed on one thing: the letter
from Hogwarts was not a joke, and there was seriously something weird going on.
worrying if the owl would deliver the letter correctly. She had never sent a
letter by a bird before. On the other hand, she told herself, the owl did find
out where she lived.
As Hermione helped
her mother cleaning up after breakfast, there was another flapping sound. The
same owl had returned in the backyard. It quickly flew into the kitchen, dropped
an envelope on the table and flew off again.
“Do you think he
got lost and returned your letter?” Mrs. Granger, said a little confused.
“I’m not sure,”
Hermione said. “I did not return it in an envelope.”
Seeing her name on
it, Hermione grabbed the envelope and ripped it open. There was a small letter
Dear Miss Granger,
We hereby confirm that you are registered for the
meeting at The Leaky Cauldronon 1 August. Please bring along this
confirmation to the meeting.
We hope to see you and your parents on 1 August.
Bureau of Muggle Relations
Ministry of Magic
Hermione, stunned. “That’s fast.”
The Sugar Quill was created by Zsenya and Arabella. For
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