The Tales of Hermione Jean Granger: Year One

Ollivanders was a small, deserted shop, with just a single desk at the front. Behind the desk were rows of bookcases with hundreds of small boxes on them, which Hermione assumed were the wands. She had seen Mr Henrik's wand, which was long, brown, and when he used it, it had had green sparks flying from the end.

She couldn't see any of the wands in the boxes however, and she wondered how customer's were meant to choose from them. There was barely enough room for one person to roam around the shelves, let alone a group of customers.

There was no shop keeper to be seen as they stepped across the creaking floorboards, but Hermione saw Mr Henrik ring the bell on the desk. A loud chime rang from it, and within a quarter of a second, an old man with grey hair, almost white, appeared on a tall ladder. He had on black robes that reached his feet, and Hermione wondered how on earth he didn't trip and fall on them.

His eyes stood out the most, so blue that Hermione supposed you could see them from a mile away. He had lines of wisdom on his face, she estimated he was about sixty years old, minimum.

The room was very dark, the only light shining through being from the windows, which were clocked by the boxes that sat on each window ledge.

"Ah, hello!" The man croaked, years of wisdom evident in his voice.

"Good afternoon, Ollivander! How's business of late?"

"The same as always, can't complain." He replied, stepping down from the ladder carefully.

"Got another Hogwart's student here for you, Hermione Granger."

Ollivander looked at her with great interest. He seemed to be examining her, if not judging her. He gave a nod of his head and stroked his chin. Hermione waited awkwardly for him to introduce himself, but he just continued to look at her. She looked down at the floor, embarised.

"Ah, yes. Let's see what we can find, shall we?" Ollivander disappeared at the end of the shop before Hermione could even respond.

"Where's he gone?" She asked.

"To find you a wand, of course."

"Doesn't she get to choose one herself? I mean, if I'm going to pay for it-" Mrs Granger began, looking uncertainly at her husband.

"-not to worry, every wand costs the same amount. Three galleons, which is around fifteen pounds in Muggle money."

"So, one galleon is around five pounds?" Hermione asked, doing the math very quickly in her head.

"Yes. And before you ask, there are seventeen sickles in a galleon, twenty nine knuts in a sickle, and four hundred and ninety three knuts to a galleon." Mr Henrik could obviously tell that Hermione was going to ask another question, yet she hadn't even opened her mouth.

"So, there one sickle is about twenty nine pence, and a Knut is one pence? That seems odd to me. Everything must be much cheaper in your world." Hermione stated, but Henrik didn't answer. Clearly, he'd had enough of her questions for the day.

Without speaking a word, Mr Henrik handed her three different sized coins. She looked at the first, the biggest of the three. It was golden and shiny, with a dragon printed on the front and back. She knew this was a Galleon, because it had the name printed in small letters. The next coin she inspected was a small bronze coin, which she knew was a Knut. A doe or dear as imprinted on the front and back, and 'Knut' was printed in even smaller letters. The last, the sickle, was silver, and was medium sized compared to the other two. This also had a dragon printed onto it.

Hermione made to give the coins back, but Mr Henrik told her to keep them. She thanked him, and then Ollivander returned, holding three boxes in his hands.

"Let's try this one first, shall we?" He pulled out a white box. "Nine and three quarter inch, Unicorn hair."

Hermione tried not to ask any questions as he placed the wand in her hand. She stood there, waiting for something to happen. But nothing did.

"Give it a wave!" Ollivander instructed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Hermione swung if back and forwards, and suddenly white sparks shot out the end. The boxes on the shelves flew around the room, flying full circle around their heads before landing back on the shelves messily.

She placed the wand carefully back on the desk, and she saw that her parents looked horrified. Her mother's hair was a mess, covering her face completely. Hermione had to hold back a laugh at the sight.

Ollivander out the wand away, muttering under his breath that there were plenty more to try. He handed her the next one, which had been in a dark green box.

"Ten and a quatre inches, Phoenix feather. Give it a flick," He ordered and Hermione repeated her previous actions.

This time yellow sparks erupted from the end, and a time glass exploded and the sand went everywhere. Her father coughed, and Hermione noticed that he was having an asthma attack. She panicked, and her mother tried to calm him down.

They hadn't brought his inhaler, Hermione realised, and what happened next was incredible. She looked around for something to help, her father's father had begun to turn purple. All she could see we're boxes, boxes everywhere! If only they contained something that would actually help her!

Then an idea popped into her head, and she grabbed a wand from one of the shelves. She pointed the wand directly at her father's neck, hoping for a miracle. All she had thought in her mind was 'Stop the asthma attack' over and over, and then suddenly he inhaled and stopped choking. The sand flew away from him, and landed back on the desk.

Ollivander looked at her with huge eyes, and he looked ready to squeal with excitement.

"That's it! That's the wand!" He cried, taking it from her and examining it. "Ten and three quatre inches, vine wood, dragon heartstring!"

He handed the wand back to Hermione, who was still in shock. When she had cast the spell she had felt a jolt of electrify through her arm, and she wondered if that would happen everytime she cast a spell.

"How did you do that?" Mrs Granger asked hysterically, still clinging onto her husband.

"I- I have no idea." Stuttered her daughter, who was just as confused as her.

"The wand chooses the Witch, Miss Granger. It is just by pure luck that you happened to grab the right one. Well done, indeed." Ollivander walked towards Mr Granger. "Are you alright?"

"Y-yes. I'm okay now." He was still holding his throat however. "I felt a little off earlier, when you made me go into that bloody fireplace."

Mr Henrik pretended he hadn't seen the glare Mr Granger sent his way.

Ollivander nodded and then asked; "Who is paying for this transaction?"

"That'll be us." Mrs Granger said, pulling out three golden coins. "Is that right?"

"It most certainly is," Ollivander took the money and thanked them.

Just as they were about to leave the shop, Hermione heard Ollivander call her back. She hesistated, not knowing whether to approach him. He smiled reassuringly, so she signalled to her Mum that she had forgotten something, and they waited outside.

Hermione hastily approached the man, who was now sitting on a small wooden chair in the corn of the room. He looked up at her as she stood in front of him. His eyes held such kindness in them that it was hard for her not to trust him.

"You know, Miss Granger, I've been in the wand making business for many years. Great Wizards have entered through these doors, each one on them great in their own way." His voice had a melody to it that made Hermione mesmerised in his words. "Afterall, He Who Must Not Be Named was a great Wizard, yes. Terrible, but great. When he entered this store I could tell that he was a unique Wizard. He had a certain quality and charm that made you listen to him, made you want to follow him."

Hermione wondered who Ollivander was talking about, but before she had time to ask, he continued.

"I must say, when you walked through that door, I didn't think you were unique right away, no. But never have I seen such a level headed girl." She blushed. "You performed a certain type of magic, Miss Granger. A type of magic that even the most powerful of Wizards cannot conjure."

Hermione swallowed and tried to find her voice. "What kind of magic is that, may I ask?"

"Non verbal magic. You conjured a spell without even uttering the words that were needed to produce it."

"But, all I thought was that I wanted my Dad to stop choking. I didn't use any special catch phrase."

Ollivander smiled, leaning back in his chair, stroking the stubble on his chin. "Indeed it is clear that you will be an extraordinary witch, Miss Granger. Usually, when a wand chooses you, you will feel a jolt of power through your body, and that's that. However, you managed to do so much more."

Hermione nodded. She had felt that flow of energy when she had cast the spell. She remembered the person Ollivander referred to before, and decided to pursue the matter.

"Mr Ollivander, who did you mean when you said 'He Who Must Not Be Named?"

Ollivander looked shocked at the question, and he leant forward excitedly, obviously eager to divulge the information.

"Why, He Who Must Not Be Named is one of the darkest Wizards of all time. He's committed crime after crime, murder after murder, all in an attempt to be immortal." Hermione felt the hairs on her neck stand. "We do not speak his name here, you'd do well to remember that."

"Sorry," She appologised.

"No need to apologise, my dear. Just remember, if you are to refer to the Dark Lord, you must refer to him as You Know Who, or He Who Must Not Be Named. People fear the name here."

"Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself." Hermione recited, a quote that she had found in a book she had read a while ago.

Ollivander grinned. "You are right again, Miss Granger."

A tapping sound made Hermione jump, and she turned to see her parents looking rather worried and impatient at the window.

"I'd best be going." Hermione said politely, making to turn for the door.

"Stay close to your friends, Miss Granger. You never know what may lay ahead.”

She nodded sheepishly, feeling rather spooked by the tone of his voice. Once outside the shop, her parents had asked what he had said, so Hermione had lied and told them he was simply giving her a few wand waving tips.

As the day continued, they had visited a few more shops and had picked up the supplies she needed. So far they had been to 'Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions' where Hermione had brought her uniform, 'Potage's Cauldron shop', 'Scribbulus Writing Instruments' where Hermione brought a quill and ink pot, which they used instead of pens at Hogwarts, and 'Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour'.

Hermione had begged to go into that shop, as the ice cream had looked mouth watering. It was no ordinary ice cream parlour however, as Hermione had seen a pot of ice cream with chocolate frogs as toppings, and when she opened the lid, tons of frogs hopped out.

The shopkeeper hadn't been impressed, and she had had to held him catch them. They were hopping all over the place, and he was worried other customers might try and eat a few. To be honest, Hermione felt repulsed by the idea of eating something that could hop around.

They were now heading to 'Eeylops Owl Emporium', which was located on the North side of Diagon Alley. Hermione was excited to see all the animals, and she hoped that her parents might let her purchase a pet.

She didn't fancy an owl, they'd make too much noise and mess,and she imagined you'd have to let it out of it's cage to fly often.

Once they entered the shop, Hermione was immediately met by a strong unpleasant odur. She tried hard not to make a face, but it became very difficult when they reached the owl section. There were droppings everywhere.

"Repulsive," She muttered under her breath.

The shop was much bigger than any other they had visited so far, although it was still relatively small. Every shop in Diagon Alley was small compared to the shopping centres Hermione had been to with her parents, but she had to admit she liked the intimacy of it all. It made the experience much better than just walking into a shop with hundreds of the same item. Here you had a unique item everytime.

Hermione could see the owls and other pets outside the shop, and could see them glaring at passers by. As they had walked into the shop, all the owls had turned their heads at the same time, glaring at them until they were inside.

Hermione trailed behind Mr Henrik, who was looking intently at the cats. She made to look at them too, but her father pulled her aside.

"Look, Hermione, I don't think your mother and I can afford to buy you a cat right now." He said quietly.

Hermione nodded in understanding. Her parents weren't poor, but they didn't spoil her either. They had already brought her far more than the list she had been given, and she was a little thankful to be honest.

"It's okay, Dad. I didn't really fancy a pet anyway."

He looked at her, as if analysing her reaction. "Are you sure? I know pets were on the list-"

"-really, I haven't seen any that have caught my attention. Maybe in a few years time, but not right now. I'd like to focus on my studies."

He seemed to understand now, and he smiled. "If you do change your mind in the future, we can always get you a nice pet. It wasn't required, was it?"

Another child might have lied and said that it was so as to get their own way, but Hermione had always been an honest person.

"No, it isn't."

She thought that the conversation was over, but he stopped her from walking away. "Hermione, you know I'm proud of you, don't you?"

"I know, Dad." She wondered why both her parents felt the need to constantly remind her of it.

He ruffled his hair nervously. "I just don't want you to think you're any different because of this. Being a Witch, it's.." He seemed to be at a loss for words. "It's completely.."

"Fine. It's okay, Dad. I know."

He grinned.

Hermione had never had too many friends at school. She hadn't been bullied exactly, at least, she didn't classify it as bullying. Some of the older kids had teased her occasionally for getting good grades and being ahead of the class.

The girls had always made fun of her bushy hair and slightly large teeth, but she always tried to rise above it. She supposed her parents were just worried what the students at Hogwarts would make of her, but she knew it couldn't be too bad.

She was just like them. Even though she hadn't been to Hogwarts yet, she felt like she belonged there. She'd never been ordinary, and this was her time to shine.

Mr Granger ruffled her hair and stood back next to his wife, taking her hand. Hermione wondered what this was all like for her parents. At least she'd be able to learn more of this all new world, but her parents would have to go back to their normal lives. She couldn't imagine what that would feel like.

Now that she knew about magic, she couldn't turn her back on it.

"So," began Henrik. "See anything you like?"

"Actually, Hermione really doesn't want a pet." Mr Granger replied for her. Hermione smiled appreciatively.

Henrik raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Hermione shrugged, not knowing what to say. In truth, Hermione loved animals, but she'd never really had an interest in having one herself. She didn't like the thought of owning another living organisism.

"Well, then what are we doing in here?" He huffed.

"I like looking at them." She could see that he was growing impatient.

He looked at his watch. Hermione was a little surprised that he even owned a watch. It seemed like such a.. Muggle item to own.

"If we could make it quick, that'd great." Hermione waited for him to illaborate. "I have other Muggle Borns to break the news to."

Hermione couldn't explain it, but she didn't like the way he referred to her as a Muggle Born. Why couldn't he just call them children instead? Why group them?

The animals in the shop actually did end up holding Hermione's attention, but she tried to tone down her enthusiasm around her parents. She knew that if they saw she had taken a certain liking to one animal in particular, they might buy her it, regardless of what they had said before.

She didn't want to pressure them into buying anything else for her, they had been through enough for one day.

After about ten minutes of browsing pointlessly through the pet store, they were finally heading back to the old dusty shop they had been to previously. Hermione realised she hadn't taken the time to read the sign before, and now she saw that it read "Junk Shop."

"Why is it so disserted?" She asked curiously. She couldn't help but think that she was beginning to get on Henrik's nerves.

He sighed, confirming her suspicions. "It's a second hand shop, it's not too popular."

She let the topic drop, and before she knew it, they were flying back up the fireplace and landed back into their living room. Mr Granger had had to be extra careful, considering he nearly had an asthma attack before. He ran straight to his inhaler.

It felt good to be home, Hermione had to admit. She was exhausted.

No one seemed to know what to say, they knew Henrik had to leave, but they didn't know how to say goodbye. They had only just met the man, but Hermione felt saddened that he had to leave. A thought occurred to her.

She was the first to speak. "Will I ever see you again?"

For the first time since they'd met, he didn't look annoyed by her question. He looked almost regretful. "No. I don't work at Hogwarts itself, I just deliver the messages."

Hermione nodded. "Thank you. For everything."

He inclined his head, tilted his hat forwards slightly. He turned to her parents.

"I wish you the best of luck in this magical journey. I hope you grow to understand our culture, and accept other Wizards as family. Your girl is very lucky to have been invited to Hogwarts. Most students apply years before and have their dreams shattered, but this one," he nodded at Hermione. "She's a talented girl. Take care of her."

Mr Granger extended his hand, and they shook hands. "It's been an intresting day."

"Thank you." Mrs Granger smiled gratefully.

And so, Mr Henrik left gracefully, using the odd sand one more time. Mr Granger stepped back, making sure he didn't inhale any of it, and Hermione hugged her Mum tight.

This was the start of something amazing, she was fully aware of that. Her father gently lifted her from the room and placed her on her bed, where she closed her eyes involuntarily. She had one thought before she drifted into unconsciousness.

'Please don't let it be a dream.'