Juno Gerges đź“š Hermione Granger (bosswitch) wrote in dunhavenic, @ 2017-09-02 23:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | !narrative, * emily, r: juno gerges |
WHO: Juno Gerges → Hermione, Miriam, and Norman Granger; Minerva McGonagall
WHEN: This evening → September 19, 1990
WHERE: Casa Gerges → Granger Dental Group, London, England
SUMMARY: Juno "dreams" of finally receiving her Hogwarts letter.
WARNINGS: None.
There was a strange woman at the Granger Dental Group. Hermione was not easily distracted from her books, but she couldn’t help peeking over the receptionist counter over at the sharp, angular woman dressed in...emerald robes, like something a graduate would wear--could she be a graduate? But it was September. Hermione frowned and turned her attention back to her book on the rise of the Mongol Empire. She sat with her legs tucked underneath her beside her parents’ secretary, Hannah. Hermione was waiting for her parents to get off work so that they could take her out for her birthday. Hermione supposed she could be playing with people from school as she waited for the clock to strike 17:00, but...truthfully, Hermione liked reading alone for pleasure best, and she felt she was well within her rights to do what she pleased on her eleventh birthday. It was difficult, though, to immerse herself in the Mongols with this woman sitting there. “Hon, do you know this woman?” Hannah whispered, peeking over at her as well. Hermione shook her head. “Did she check in?” she wondered, pulling their waiting list around. According to the list, their last patient was currently being attended to by Hermione’s mother. There shouldn’t be anyone else waiting. Hermione looked up. “Erm, ma’am, did you check in?” asked Hermione, though, really, she should have asked Hannah to do it. “Ah, no, that’s alright...I’m just here to speak to your parents.” “Well...yes, obviously, but you need an appointment for that,” Hermione told her. The woman gave a bemused sort of smile. “I’m not here to speak about my teeth.” Hermione exchanged a look with Hannah, who looked just as perplexed. If she wasn’t here to talk about teeth, what was she here to talk about. “Okay…” Hermione said hesitantly. Hannah wrapped an arm around Hermione’s shoulder. “You stay sittin’ right there, hon, don’t go anywhere without me.” In a half hour’s time, her mother was finished and emerged from the back rooms. “Nearly ready, love--oh!” she said, startled upon seeing a woman in the waiting room. “Do you have an appointment, ma’am?” Miriam asked. “No, no appointment,” the woman said. Miriam’s lips pursed. “Then I’m afraid we really cannot see you. It’s my daughter’s birthday, you’ll have to make an appointment or see another doctor if it’s an emergency,” she insisted. “Well, it was your daughter’s birthday that I came here to discuss--” “Excuse me?” Miriam cut her off. “Do we know you?” “Not at all, but I shouldn’t say more until your husband is here.” “I can speak for myself, thank you very much,” said Miriam, shifting her hands to her hips defensively. “Naturally, but it concerns him as well.” “Doctor Granger,” Hannah muttered. “Would you like me to telly the police?” she asked nervously. “No, no...we’ll be fine, you can go home, Hannah,” said Miriam, then she looked over at the woman again, “And you, frankly, can go home as well.” Hermione turned as her father entered the secretary’s area, just as Hannah exited, casting one last weary glance at the emerald-clad woman. “What’s going on here?” Norman asked. “This woman would like to speak to us about Hermione,” Miriam said, gesturing vaguely over at her. “We have dinner reservations,” said Norman. The woman sighed, “This won’t take but a moment of your time.” Miriam snorted, “None of us are interested in a new religion,” she said. “Mum…” Hermione interjected, emerging from around the counter. “Let’s just listen to what she has to say,” she insisted, in part because she was just so very curious what this was about. Miriam darted around the counter as well, grabbing Hermione’s hand, but she followed her over to where the woman sat, Norman behind her. The woman gave a curt sort of smile. “My name is Minerva McGonagall, and I’m here to give Miss Granger her acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and answer any questions you might have,” she said, handing Hermione a thick envelope. “Witchcraft!” Hermione gasped, her tone caught somewhere between incredulity and excitement. She eagerly ripped open the letter and began to read. Miriam snorted, “Oh, this is worse than a new religion.” McGonagall was unfazed. “Has your daughter ever done anything you couldn’t explain?” she asked. Norman exchanged an uncomfortable look with Miriam--there had been too many incidents that fit that description to count. And yet...Hermione was otherwise happy and healthy, and neither of them had a good explanation, they’d simply let it be. “Well…” Norman said vaguely. “I’m not sure that anything our daughter does is any of your business.” “Perhaps a demonstration, then.” McGonagall aimed her wand at a large coffee stain a patient had left on and adjacent chair many moons ago. “Scourgify!” Three sets of Granger eyes widened as the stain was zapped into oblivion, the chair as good as knew. “Anything peculiar daughter’s done is a manifestation of her powers,” McGonagall continued--Hermione straightened up at this. “We’d like to teach her how to harness them and use them properly--and if I may be quite frank, neglecting to educate her can be dangerous for your child.” Miriam frowned, she rested her hand on the back of her daughter’s head as if on instinct. “Hermione, love, what do you think?” Norman asked with a frown. “I think it’s brilliant!” she squealed. “A witch! Did you see what Ms. McGonagall did? I want to do things like that! What else can you do?” “Many things, Miss Granger, but there will be time still for that.” “Where is this school?” Miriam asked, her hand still resting protectively on Hermione. “I’m afraid I can’t be more precise than to say Scotland.” “She’ll have to live there,” Norman frowned. “Hermione…I don’t know.” “She would,” McGonagall confirmed. “Are there no schools closer to London?” asked Miriam. “I’m afraid not...a very few families educate their own children, but in your case, it would be impossible.” “What do you mean it would be dangerous for me not to learn?” Hermione asked. “It would make you...unwell. Severely unwell.” “Well, sweetie, what do you think?” Norman asked. Hermione considered it for half a second, then burst out of her seat. “I think it’s wonderful!” she burst. “When can I start?” “Hermione,” Norman laughed. “Aren’t you going to miss us?” Hermione frowned. “Well, yes...but I won’t be gone forever.” McGonagall shook her head. “There’s still quite a lot of time, Miss Granger. You won’t start until September first of the following year.” Hermione frowned. “Oh, don’t look so disappointed!” Miriam said. “Were you really going to ditch us on your birthday dinner?” “Well…” Hermione said. McGonagall joined. “Enjoy your parents, Miss Granger, they seem lovely. We will see you next fall,” she said, then departed. |