Be Wary of Clear Skies

5: Never heard of a Granger

A whole month and four days, Hermione had to wait before she could go to King's Cross Station. For all that time, her books, her cauldron, her robes, even her wand , were all locked in a trunk in Matron Brooke's office. Parting with it all had been painful, but she'd agreed with the Matron that it was best not to risk any of the other girls stumbling across her things, asking awkward questions—or worse, breaking any of her newly acquired equipment. It had been rather expensive, after all. Either way the Matron had thought it best Hermione kept her new life a secret, just in case . She'd told Hermione of how people had reacted when the Witches and Wizards had come out of hiding, and how, even after more than a decade, most people were treating magic like it was something dangerous.

Hermione understood the reasoning, of course, but she very much wanted to practise some of the spells from her curriculum before term began. She'd seen the way that boy in Madam Malkin's had wielded his wand, and she was so ready to do some magic of her own.

Professor McGonagall had explained quite a lot during her brief rundown of the magical world, including the fact that, before the Statute of Secrecy was abolished, children weren't allowed to use magic outside of school. The ban on underage magic had been lifted alongside a handful of other rules and regulations, though the changes had all been passed in silence and with little notice as the lesser news yielded to the headlines of the entire magical community being exposed. Hermione couldn't help but think of it as a bit of a waste–she still couldn't practise magic at the Home, and now the other kids–most of whom had likely grown up around magic–would be miles ahead when term began.

August had crept by as if nothing in Hermione's life had changed at all. While the other girls went about their usual routines, Hermione spent her days caught between her daydreaming of her new life and counting down the hours until she could finally retrieve her trunk and leave. The 792 hours since she'd begun counting had dragged by excruciatingly slowly, and she was almost certain Professor McGonagall had put the Home in some kind of time pocket before she had left. Of course, she had no proof of this, and if she were to think rationally, she couldn't come up with a single reason why a professor would bother to do something like that. She wasn't even sure if it was possible? Only, there was no other way to explain how a single month could feel like three years and some change.

Hermione glanced at the clock on the wall for what felt like the hundredth time since she'd gotten up that morning. Only ten minutes to go! She'd been pacing back and forth in the hallway since breakfast, waiting for the Matron. They were to leave at 10 o'clock she knew, but she couldn't stand sitting in her room any longer. Today had finally arrived, and 792 way-too-long hours had shrunk into a still unbearable ten minutes.

Her belongings were packed and ready, her satchel slung over her shoulder with everything she deemed essential for the train ride. Anticipation gnawed at her insides. Hermione was ready to leave . Now!

When the Matron at last came down the stairs, Hermione almost ran to the door, and out of nowhere the impossible time spell was lifted. They carried Hermione's trunk to a waiting cab, drove to the train station, and transferred her luggage to a trolley before they entered the station. It all happened so fast Hermione was almost dizzy by the time they reached the platforms. Her heart was beating in her chest and she could hear her own shallow breaths as they walked, but the rest of the world seemed a blur. All she could think about was the journey ahead and how she was leaving her entire life behind for a world she knew nothing about.

It all came to a halt when they reached the platforms as Professor McGonagall had instructed. Between the platforms nine and ten stood a brick wall solid and unremarkable, forming a large column.It wasn't at all like the hidden entrance to Diagon Alley, tucked away out of sight in the back of a pub—this was right out in the open, with people strolling past, positively ordinary and very much not magic-like. She wasn't quite sure what she had expected, but it certainly wasn't this. Professor McGonagall had assured her she wouldn't have to do anything special to be able to pass through, and that Matron Brooke would be able to go with her. But right now, standing in front of what seemed like a perfectly solid wall, Hermione felt like she was expected to perform a very elaborate display of magic.