Doesn't count

Chapter 1

On the 22nd of June in the year 1962, in London, Britain,

Cars bustling across the street, pigeons defecating on unsuspecting heads, and children throwing tantrums because they did not receive a treat after being tricked by their mums into going to church.

What an absolutely dreadful day for Hermione in downtown London. While other children had their mothers, she at least had all the confectionery in the world to compensate for the lack of maternal presence in her life. Well, that was what she told her 'friend', Michael Davis, when he noticed her lack of a guardian whenever they met at the playground.

Despite the sadness that occasionally tugged at her heart, Hermione had developed a knack for creating diversions and making the best of her circumstances. In her duress-filled environment, she was quick to learn the value of trust and information—two commodities more precious than any sweet treat.

And with time, she'd learned to read Michael like an open book, noting the subtle shifts in his expression, the cadence of his voice, and the topics that made his eyes light up. With a well-timed question here and a sympathetic nod there, she could extract valuable information about his family's routines, his father's business dealings, or the layout of their home. All the while, Michael remained blissfully unaware of the calculated nature of their interactions, seeing only an attentive friend eager to share in his world. 

And through Michael, with his endless supply of candies and stories, Hermione had found an unwitting accomplice in her more-or-less daily schemes. 

Unfortunately, when asked, all Hermione could say was that it was no coincidence they met nearly every day at the swings at four in the afternoon, right when Wool's security was at its lowest. It was also no coincidence that whenever Michael met and chatted with her briefly, his pockets, nearly full of sweets, would end up empty every time.

He kept insisting to his mum the other day that his pockets had holes in them. However, whenever Lyn Davis, his mother, would examine them to repair the supposedly broken seams or ripped fabric, she found them to be in good condition.

She later chalked it up to Michael making excuses to get more candy from her. Hermione couldn't help but chuckle when an exasperated Michael recounted the story to her. Cue his confused face, and she almost toppled down, cackling. Michael had no clue what had happened to his friend earlier; she seemed inconsolable with her boisterous laughter.

'Sucker,' Hermione couldn't help thinking. Is he really that daft? What a sheltered life he must live. Michael Davis, a rich boy with even richer parents, recently moved from New York. How did she know? Well, aside from his apparent Brooklyn accent and tweed apparel that screamed upper class, she ran an intelligence gathering and dissemination group.

The group comprises just seven members—small, yes, but that's how Hermione prefers it. A compact team is easier to manage, reducing the risk of duplicity and diminishing the likelihood of members selling valuable intelligence for personal gain. Moreover, Hermione maintains precise control through exhaustive documentation of all gathered intel. She organizes this information chronologically, alphabetically, and by notoriety, strategic value, and location. Each file meticulously records which members contributed to and who was privy to the details.

Additionally, they typically operated in pairs or trios. The alleyways of ghetto London, teeming with unstable and dangerous individuals, especially after the aftermath of the war, were hardly a suitable environment for unsupervised children. However, the presence of three children packed together might arouse suspicion. To mitigate this risk and enhance their security, she devised a system.