Hermione woke up early that morning when the first sunlight shone through the windows and danced on her eyelids. She got out of bed and soon she was sitting at the kitchen table, across from her parents.
“So, Hermione,” Mrs. Granger said, “now that you’re home from your school, what are your plans for the summer? Dad and I decided you should have a thoroughly Muggal- did I say that right?”
Hermione said automatically, “It’s Muggle, Mummy.”
“Oh, yes, right. I mean a summer going on normal trips and things--”
“Mummy, don’t you think I’m normal most of the time?” asked Hermione, hurt.
“Well, honey,” her mother looked a bit uncomfortable, “your dad and I feel, while we are proud about how well you're doing in school, it’s time for you to have a little time to grow and develop into a normal person, without all that stuff you're busy with all year.”
“Indeed, Hermione, we’ve been missing you. When you didn’t come with us on that skiing trip last winter, well, we decided to have a good talk with you when you came home for the summer,” her dad added.
Hermione looked confused and felt a sudden chill of apprehension about where this was leading.
“But we’re not even allowed to use magic at home when we’re underage- what do you mean?”
Her parents looked at her severely.
“Hermione, someone with your intelligence should know exactly what we mean,” her mother said reprovingly.
Her father exclaimed,“Don’t tell me you don’t remember what happened on our trip to France last summer. We thought going away from home was all you needed- you’d spend some quality time with your family- but the whole time all you did was read huge history books on French wizards and stay locked in your hotel room for hours on end, writing essays! Don’t try to tell me your teachers assign that much summer homework. It’s not healthy, Hermione!”
Hermione looked stricken.
“Oh, I’m really sorry Mum and Dad; I didn’t realize you felt this way. But it’s really important to me to do well; you were the ones who raised me to do my best, after all.”
“Yes, Hermione,” said her dad, “but enough is enough! It’s time for you to take a break from schoolwork and do other equally important things. You can finish your schoolwork next month, all right? We know it’s important to you, we really do. Now, we want you to make new friends--”
“But Dad,” Hermione protested, “there aren’t any other witches or wizards living around here-”
“Well then,” scolded her father, “practice your tolerance for ordinary people like us and meet a few Mugguguls for a change!”
Hermione sputtered, “But-”
“No,” her mother interrupted firmly, “no more arguing, Hermione. We’ve decided. You can spend three mornings a week helping us out at the office. You always enjoyed that when you were young, before your Hogwarts letter came. On our day off, we’ll all go on a trip as a family. The rest of the time, we expect you to do some real unwinding, socializing, and stretching your relaxing muscles. Oh- by the way, Hermione, to make sure you don’t spend the whole time reading, we’re going to have to lock your schoolbooks away in a closet- and we want you to promise not to sneak off and open it without our permission. We really are tired of your behavior, Hermione dear.”
Flabbergasted, Hermione pushed her chair back her brain reeling in shock. She managed to get out, “But can't I visit my friends at the Burrow? Harry and Ron don’t let me read too much, and Ginny and I always have a great time hanging out- that’s socializing too, isn’t it?”
Her parents exchanged a glance, and her father spoke up again.
“We didn’t want to be unfair to you, so maybe at the end of the summer you can go off for a week or so. We don’t want you to feel like poor Harry Potter, living with those horrible Dursleys,” he winced and went on, “you know, they punish him all the time and lock him in the closet, and who knows what else? Yes, we don’t want you to do badly in school, so we’re allotting a time for you to take out your school things, and of course we will take you shopping when your supply list comes, unless you’re with your friends by then, of course.”
His voice changed to a softer, gentler tone. “Hermione, please try to be considerate and cheerful about all this, for our sakes. We love you- we want to spend some time with you, and we only want what’s best for you. I hope you understand how I’m feeling. I don’t want you to be upset, all right?”
Hermione poked at her scrambled eggs impatiently and burst out, “But I am normal. I’m perfectly happy with becoming a witch, why can’t you accept it? When did you start plotting against me?”
Once again, her parents glanced nervously and worriedly at each other.
“We hoped you’d understand how we feel about this a bit better, Hermione,” Hermione’s mother said, looking a bit upset, making Hermione feel guilty even through her anger and betrayal.
“Since at least last year, we considered bringing it up,” Hermione’s mother continued after a brief pause, “but when you missed skiing last winter to go study, well, that was kind of the last straw. We do want you to do well, Hermione, but that was just a little too extreme.”
Hermione just grimaced, thinking of the injustice of it all. She hadn’t even studied much that time, but if she told her parents the real reason she had left…No, she couldn’t, for the same reasons she hadn’t revealed it then. They knew Voldemort was back, but they didn’t- couldn’t- understand the full implications and enormity of his return. If they knew about Mr. Weasley getting injured, their worries on her behalf would only increase, anyway.
Hermione got up and cleared her place, the last traces of forced calm disappearing from her demeanor. “Well, I don’t suppose I have a choice, but, oh- for heaven’s sake! Why do you have to do this to me? You don’t understand what it means to me when you act this way!” she snapped.
Her mother started to say something, but Hermione couldn’t listen any longer and stormed upstairs to her room. She sank down on her bed in the corner, listening to her parent’s distant voices quietly murmuring.
“Well, let them talk about me!” said Hermione, louder than she had intended. A bitter lump deep in her throat threatened to rise up and choke her. At least it was only for two months or less even, and then she would be back to normal, at Hogwarts, she tried to comfort herself. Maybe Ron would rescue her in a flying car, as he had rescued Harry a few years ago, she thought, and soon lost herself in daydreams about the adventures the three of them had survived together over the years.
They had barely managed to survive the frantic battle for the prophecy orb about Harry and Voldemort, but it had broken anyway- at least the Death Eaters hadn’t got it. She had had to take tons of potion every day for weeks afterward, and she had only finished recently, although she still got short of breath very easily, Madam Pomfrey had assured her the effects would wear off soon. Harry had seemed so distant those last few days at Hogwarts- what secret was he hiding from her, and probably Ron too?
The phone rang, jarring her from her thoughts. She automatically reached to pick it up, vaguely wondering who it might be.
“Hello, may I speak with the young Miss Granger, please?” a deep, rough, voice asked quietly. It sounded slightly familiar to Hermione, although she didn’t know where she had heard it before. She answered,
“Yes, I’m here.”
Hermione heard a crackling sigh at the other end of the line.
“Miss Granger- I hope you don’t mind if I call you Hermione? I have an urgent message to give to you.”
“What is it?” Hermione asked, beginning to get curious. Who was this person, and where had she heard his voice before?
There was a funny bleating noise in the background before the stranger continued.
“Quiet!” he yelled hoarsely at something that was now making loud grunting and snuffling noises.
“Sorry, Miss Hermione, yes. So, the message is- actually, um… Let me find it…Get off…Oh, here we are. It says, 'Dear' - no, that’s something else. Oh, forget it, I’ll tell you from memory- it was pretty short, I hope I’ll get it right. Of course I will, though. I have an excellent memory! But I never give away a secret when I shouldn’t, if I do say so myself.”
He gave a wheezy chuckle and then abruptly cut short his mumbling monologue. In a much more businesslike voice, he said, “Hermione, please be at Diagon Alley tomorrow -you are very much needed, very important task for you. Please come alone to the table farthest to the left in front of Fortescue’s ice cream store at one o’clock, and you will receive further instructions. Don't be late.”
The stranger’s brisk tone suddenly relapsed into a hoarse mumble. “Yes, I think that was right. I think I did my job, now, Miss Hermione, see that you do yours.”
“All right,” said Hermione, “but-“
She heard a click. The call had ended, the mysterious caller apparently felt that once she heard the message and agreed, his job was done, and was not at all inclined to stay on the line and chat. She tried tracing the call through the operator, but as she had suspected even as she tried, it didn’t work.
She regretted not asking his name, but it was too late for that now, and he- yes, she was positive it was a man- probably he wouldn’t have answered anyway, judging by his secretive manner and his mention of how he can keep secrets when he wants to. He was definitely a wizard or a Squib, How else would he know about Diagon Alley? No, this was definitely wizarding business.
Hermione sat down on the chair by her desk and tried to think where she had heard that voice before, but she had no luck at that either. She realized she had to decide if she should go or not.
Voldemort was really back now, out in the open, and it might be a trap meant to appeal to her sense of curiosity, as Harry’s bravery and saving-people thing had lured them, at the end of school, when he had a vision of Sir- she forced herself not to think about that. Even though she no longer took all those horrible potions every day, it was still recent and painful. No- her real problem now was if she should go to Diagon Alley or not. Was the mysterious caller to be trusted? Hermione just wasn’t sure.
Suddenly she realized something that she had forgotten. “Oh no! Mom and Dad!” She collapsed onto her bed. What if her parents didn’t let her go to Diagon Alley? She didn’t want to trick them or anything, but what if this turned out to be important? Hermione realized that she really, really wanted to go.
She almost burst into tears of disappointment, but forced them down and sat up a little straighter. I have to go, she thought. Maybe someone needs my help, and that’s why I was called. She got up and went into the hallway.