"Little Hermione is something of an academic prodigy," the tiny mousse haired woman beamed at the proud parents and their bucktoothed bushy haired daughter sitting between them.
Hermione felt her heart swell in her chest at her favorite teacher's praise. Miss Valentine, an educational psychologist to Hermione, undoubtedly felt impressed by the sheer genius of the child before her. Of course, she was not the only one; Hermione's other big supporters, Principal Walkins and the assistant principal Coburn, felt the same way. How could you not when you meet an actual, real deal, genius child?
"I take it that her IQ results were high?" Mr. Granger asked rhetorically with a charming crooked smile.
"High? A high IQ is around 129-135...Hermione's IQ score is leaps and bounds higher." Principal Walkins provided, sliding a packet across to lucky parents.
Mr. Granger took the packet and opened it, his wife leaning over their daughter to get a look as well.
Inside were the detailed results of the test Hermione had taken a few weeks back with charts providing comparisons of the results. The two grazed over the pages as the three adults across from them continued to speak.
"Your daughter is a Mensa-certified genius!" Miss Valentine exclaimed, her eyes bright with awe as she gazed at the unassuming bushy haired five-year-old sitting calming before them.
Hermione's cheeks betrayed her calm rouse with a pleased flush, her own bright brown eyes brewed with pride and relief. She wanted to exclaim and jump up and down in a way that would certainly contrast her new status.
Both her mother and her father jaws dropped, simultaneously looking from the three adults sitting across from them to their daughter in between. Hermione looked up with a smile that seemed like it was just dying to burst into a goofy grin. At the sight of her, the flood of overwhelming proudness catalyzed into squeals as both parents hugged their amazing child.
"Her IQ is 156. A score that is at the 98th percentile that only two percent of the world's population can score."
The Granger's continued to hug their little girl, touching the hearts of those witnessing their affections with smiles on their faces.
"Oh, Hermione," her mother whispered around her mess of hair, squeezing her close "We're so proud, so proud."
"She's extraordinary, achieving such scores at her age is magical..."
A secret look was shared between the two parents over the top of their bushy-haired daughter's head.
"Yes, she's a very special girl."
A little while later Hermione sat in the backseat of her parents car, her face still holding a pleased little smile. She held her Mensa certificate close to her chest.
"Well, Hermione, what would you like as a gift for being our precious little genius?"
"Your mother and I thought you might like to take a trip to Italy? Visit some historic museums or the Sistine Chapel?"
"It's up to you, of course, my angel, it's about what you would like."
"I'd like to go to Italy! I'd like that very much." her brown eyes lighting up at the prospect of spending hours immersing herself in Roman history before they snapped to as she realized their location. "Oh, can we go to Oaktrail? They have a new edition to Britannica I really wanted."
Oaktrail bookstore housed some of Hermione's favorite most rare books and also served as a furniture store. Stacey, the owner, had a husband who sold odd and useless hand-made trinkets along with some furniture right next door. Since the store stood right around the corner from her house, Hermione often went there after school to do her homework and peruse the shelves for something interesting to read.
"Yes, of course, dear." Her father turned in front of the store but did not turn the car off.
"Do you mind going in by yourself, love? I'd like to go to the grocers and get some ingredients for your celebratory dinner."
"Of course, that's fine. I'll see you." She opened the door and climbed out, only pausing when her mother's amused voice reached her ears.
"You can leave your certificate in here, I promise it'll be safe." Hermione blushed, her hands reflexively tightening around the certificate.
"Can I take it in with me? I want to show Stacey." She said as her mother just rolled her eyes with a smile.
"Go ahead. We'll be back quickly."
Hermione shut the door waving at her parents as they pulled back out before climbing up the stairs to the Oaktrail. Carefully she rolled her certificate up and put it in her back pocket. It was only a duplicate anyway, the other was safe with her mom in a fancy frame.
She moved with ease around the store, eyeing the empty check out stand before heading to her destination. She found the newest edition easily and went back to the counter, looking behind it for any sign of older lady.
"Hello?" She called out, craning her neck to get a good look. No one appeared to be in the back so she turned, book in hand, and walked back outside, turning to the left and climbing up the stairs to the Wolf Den trinket store.
She walked inside, a bell above her announcing her presence. It felt very hot in the store and stuffy, like they hadn't opened up a window for a long time. She navigated her way around tables filled with odd items and wooden picture frames. She eased around a large glass sculptor of a naked Grecian woman but tripped immediately over the leg of a rocking chair making her collide harshly against a huge black wardrobe.
"Omph!" her eyes shut upon impact, her head banging noisily on the crack between the doors. "Can't even walk around in here." she grumbled as she straightened. Suddenly, she stilled and her eyes snapped open.
Her hand trailed on the crack where one side of the door had opened slightly and stiffened further when she felt it again. Air. Cold air.
"No, that's not right." She whispered to herself, standing back and pulling both doors to the wardrobe open. Cold air rushed around her as if she stood right next to an air conditioner. It blew around her and enveloped her hot skin til goosebumps rose on her arms.
She stood with her mouth agape wondering how it could be possible for freezing cold air to be coming from a wardrobe and decided that there must be something on the inside roof of it that made it cold. Curiously she looked inside but could not find a source. She frowned and stepped inside, reaching her free hand up to the ceiling and feeling the wind of the cool air coming from nowhere. Suddenly, a sound like all the air was being vacuumed reached her ears.
She screamed at the loud bang of the wardrobe doors slamming shut, her book dropping as she swiveled around in the darkness and started banging on the doors.
"Help! Let me out! Get me out of here right now!" She continued to bang in near hysterics, every nerve-ending in her body alarmed to the point that all the hairs of her arms rose.
A second later the doors opened, the light blinding her for a moment as she stumbled hazardously out of the wardrobe.
"Who the bloody hell are you?" A quite unkind and gruff voice bellowed.
She gazed up to find a man with a bulging gut and a horrible widows peak glaring down at her. A cluster of strange assortments stood behind him; skeleton heads and strange shriveled up hands, dark foreboding books- certainly not the place where she just came from.
"Oi!" the man demanded, staring down at her expectantly and not at all with any kindness, "I asked you a question!"
Panicked, Hermione lunged for the edge of the door and slammed it back with herself inside. Logically speaking if she somehow managed to get teleported to some unknown place then doing the same thing over again should have her back to where she came from.
"Bloody- Hey! You better get out of there right now, you little runt!" The man bellowed banging on the door sharply, making Hermione jump in the darkness. A second later the man wrenched up the door again and roughly pulled her out by the collar of her shirt. She gasped an indignant, shocked cry, She was quite unused to being handled so roughly. Hermione's hand immediately shot up to take hold of his wrist as he shook her like a rag doll. Her certificate fell from her back pocket, making a tiny sound as it landed.
"What are you playing at, hm? How did you even get in here? What are you trying to steal?"
"L-let me go! I'm not trying to steal anything!" Hermione screeched, digging her nails into him. The man hissed, his lips curling back in an enraged snarl.
"Why you little bitch!" Hermione closed her eyes, bracing herself for a slap when the sound of something snapping reached her ears. Both of their heads cut to the ceiling to see a cage holding a skeletal monkey about to descend.
"Shite!" The man screamed, unconsciously letting her go as he reached into his robes.
Hermione went crashing down to the floor, her flailing limbs managing to knock down quite a few things. Glass embedded into her skin as she landed harshly on her tailbone. She didn't feel it however as she snatched up her certificate in a tight fist and then turned to watch with awe as the man pointed a stick at the cage and started uttering words.
"Repa-!" But it was too late. The cage came down upon a shelf that knocked the whole thing down.
"Fuck!" The man screamed as instantly a green- colored flame sparked into a blaze.
Hermione didn't waste another second. Scrambling up, she turned and ran, hazardously bumping into things as she sought out the exit. The green flame quickly spread and she could hear the man screaming distantly behind her. It did not make her pause. She burst right out of the exit and straight into a crowd of people who grumbled and pushed her away.
A loud explosion sounded from inside the store she exited, blowing out the windows and the door, the force of it so strong it knocked unsuspecting Hermione and several other people right off their feet.
Hermione screamed as she went flying, her voice blending in with the sound of others cries. Her head smacked harshly on the cobblestone ground, her body still rolling with inertia before she slammed into the alley wall. She instantly lost consciousness.
Brown eyes slowly blinked open, wincing at the harsh brightness of the lights above.
"Patty, she's waking up. I'm going to go alert the aurors."
The voice sounded loud to her ears making her wince but bringing her closer to awareness.
"Hello, Miss," a kinder, warmer, voice spoke. Brown eyes snapped to the nurse's, taking in her strange healer outfit and encouraging smile. "I'm Head Healer Lovegood. I treat head injuries here at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. You were recently in an accident that caused severe damage to your frontal and temporal lobes in your brain which means-"
"I know what the temporal and frontal lobes are. The frontal lobe is located at the front of the brain and basically controls my ability to reason and motor skills due to the motor cortex located at the back of the frontal lobe. The temporal lobe is located at the bottom section of the brain and is primarily for interpreting sounds. The hippocampus is also located here which controls memory storage."
The woman smiled, her gentle blue eyes assessing as she pulled out a stick from her pocket.
"That's very impressive for you to know. Very impressive. So in that light, can you tell me your name?" She asked, waving that stick around her head.
"I'm..." A frown marred her face as she tried to remember-such a simple question, her name, but it nevertheless it failed to come to her, slipping through her fingers like water. "I…I…"
"Alright, don't panic, little one. It's quite alright to struggle at first, you've experienced terrible trauma to your head so this is only natural. We found a certificate on you that gave us your name, so don't fret. You are Hermione Granger."
Hermione blinked, her mind working out her name.
"Hermione Granger." she tested, slowly pronouncing the syllables on her tongue. It felt right. "That's from Shakespeare. The Winter's Tale." Hermione reached up, fisting a hand into her massive hair with a look of fear on her face "I don't know how I know any of this. I can't remember a thing!"
Healer Lovegood's smile seemed to turn a little sad at this as she reached out a cold pale hand to pat Hermione's.
"You mustn't worry. You are an incredibly smart child, I can see that. You'll be fine! Just fine! Now, I have a few people who wish to speak with you, Hermione. Would you mind that?"
Hermione bit her lip, her eyes flicking to the door as she pulled the white hospital shirt closer around her.
"It's the police, isn't it? I don't want to talk to them, it's scary. I don't even know what to say."
Healer Lovegood's expression flickered for a moment with something unreadable.
"Police," she repeated slowly, her eyes roving over Hermione's face. "You don't have to worry about the police-I'll tell them to go away for now- but I must ask you one more question. Do you have any idea what this is, or what it does?" She asks, holding up that stick so it's eye level to her.
"Er...well, it's a stick. It doesn't do anything." Hermione answered, the tone of the nurses voice making her feel as if there might be some weird double meaning she couldn't understand. Healer Lovegood nodded, a bobbing of the head that seems uncomfortable.
"Yes, it's just a stick. Anyway, I'm going to go tell Healer Tilly to bring you in a tray of food since you must be famished."
As if responding to her words, Hermione's stomach growled loudly and she can't help the tinge of embarrassment that flooded her cheeks as Healer Lovegood smiled and shut the door.
Hours later found Hermione with a full belly and a book in her lap. She was reading a strange children's novel given to her by one of the nurses called The Tales of Beedle the Bard. At first, she felt disgusted by having to read fairy tales but she soon found it to be an interesting collection of stories. She was just finishing up the second to last chapter called Babbity Rabbity and Her Bleeding Stump when a tall man with a great big white beard in a ridiculous purple robe and tall hat entered the room.
"Hello there Ms. Hermione Jean Granger. I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster at a school called Hogwarts. Would you like a lemon drop?"
Hermione stared with her mouth agape for a minute before she burst out laughing.
"I-I'm...so...sorry," she gasped out between laughter, "But you're outfit is positively ridiculous!"
"Yes, I have to admit they're not my best. I have a blue robe with little black cats all over and a matching hat to boot that is much more astetically pleasing."
"And...you're supposed to be a Headmaster?" she asked skeptically, with laughter still evident in her voice. Dumbledore gave a nod, his massive hat looking in danger of tilting right off his head.
"Yes, which is precisely why I have come to visit you today. I'm here to administer a test to see if you are qualified to be a student. If applicable you are immediately accepted at the school when you turn eleven years old."
"B-but, I haven't even gotten a chance to prepare!" Dumbledore held up a hand, stilling Hermione's words.
"Fear not, this is not a written exam, you only have to do one thing." Dumbledore pulled out from the wide sleeve of his cloak a rolled up parchment and unfurled it, holding it out to an awed Hermione. "Tell me what it says."
Wearily, with a tinge of suspicion, Hermione took the proffered parchment and began to read out loud.
"The Ministry of Magic would like to inform Ms. Hermione Jean Granger that she will now be on the list to attend Hogwarts School of ...Withcraft and Wizardry..." Hermione trailed off, her face set in a frown as she looked up at the pleased face of Albus Dumbledore.
"But...there is no such thing as magic!"
"Ah, but there is Ms. Granger and you have the power to wield it. It is why you were able to read what was on that parchment instead of seeing just an old muggle newspaper."
"Muggle? I've never heard that word before." she repeated.
"Yes, it is what wizarding society call non-magic folk. It is also our belief that your parents might be muggles. The Ministry is making moves to find out for certain as we speak. We'll get you back to your family in no time, rest assured..."
But things would not prove to be so simple. Days went by without any trace of her family and with her body fully healed, with the exception of her memory loss, Hermione could no longer stay in St. Mungos.
Devastated, scared and utterly frustrated with her lack of memories, Hermione left St. Mungos with nothing but her clothes from when the accident occurred and the certificate they found on her. She trailed behind a severe looking Ministry of Magic official all the way to her temporary home that belonged to a nice squib lady.
"Her name is Arabella Figg, but you must call her Ms. Figg. She gets offended if you call her Mrs. Figg." The woman prattled as they came upon a tiny, poorly kept home. "She is a highly experienced and recommended foster parent but since she has no foster kids at this time she kindly agreed to open her home to you. So behave."
Hermione nodded, straightening her shoulders and presenting her best-i'm-a-well-behaved-girl face despite the chaotic butterflies in her stomach. With a deep breath, she stepped inside.
What neither Ms. Figg, nor Hermione knew was that this would become Hermione's home. No one would ever come to claim Hermione Granger and blood test to find DNA relatives would prove to be perplexing. After all, she could hardly be the son of a nine-year-old muggle boy...and the mother could not be found at all.
No, Dumbledore suspected that something else seemed to be at work here. Her mysterious appearance in Diagon Alley and the coincidental burning of Borgin and Burkes left him quite perplexed. Unfortunately, since Burke perished in the flames and Hermione lost her memory he could not find the origin of her arrival.
Especially since the only form of documentation that the girl had was dated at the bottom as May 29, 1984; which is very odd seeing as how the date she appeared was May 30, 1966.