The Hogwarts Letter

Chapter 2

When Hermione got home, she threw her backpack on the table, grabbed some sugar-free gummies, and headed up to her room. As soon as she opened her door, she felt better. The walls were painted a soothing lilac and bookshelves lined the room. She smiled as she took in the rows and rows of books. Hermione picked a book from the shelves at random and settled in her cozy chair with The Chronicles of Narnia.

An hour later Hermione felt much, much better. Reading helped her clear her thoughts and now she was ready to face the world again. She put her book away and headed downstairs. Her parents wouldn't be home for another hour or so, and she had chores to do. Hermione swept the house, watered the flowers, and straightened up the cushions. Her parents were having company over tonight, so the house had to look good. Finally, she settled down at the desk downstairs and took her books out of her backpack. Final exams were in a week and she had to do well. If she got good marks, then next year she could go to a private school instead of the horrible public school that she attended now. Hermione intended to pass with flying colors. She couldn't last another year in her awful school.

When her parents got back from work, Hermione put her books away and helped her mother with dinner. Her father's boss and his family were coming over for dinner, and her mother wanted to make a good impression with a big, delicious dinner. They prepared a fancy chicken casserole along with some side dishes. Then Hermione set the table while her parents put the finishing touches on the meal. At six thirty exactly, the doorbell rang and Hermione, who had changed from her school clothes to a neat dress, opened it and welcomed her father's boss and his family: Mr. and Mrs. Malcolm and their son, Vincent Malcolm.

Appetizers were served in the living room and dinner was brought out to the dining room shortly thereafter. The adults talked politely while Hermione and Vincent sat uncomfortably, stirring their food around and avoiding looking at each other. After dinner, the adults retired to the living room to have coffee, and the children were shooed upstairs to Hermione's room. 

Hermione shut the door behind them and turned around to see Vincent sprawled out across the bed. "So, you read a lot of books?" Vincent drawled, looking around. 

"Yes," Hermione said, slightly defensive. " Er, do you want to play a board game or something?"

Vincent sighed. "I guess. You don't have any video games, do you? No, you're a good girl, aren't you. No video games for you. Let me guess, they interfere with studying."

Hermione tried hard to keep her irritation with the boy from showing. He was really getting on her nerves. "Yes," she said again.

Vincent scowled and stood up. He started walking towards her. "Is that all you can say? My parents said you were smart. They talk about perfect Hermione Granger all the time. Looks like you're nothing but an annoying little bookworm."

That was the worst possible thing he could have said. After the gang's taunting this afternoon, Hermione couldn't take it. Red-hot anger rose within her and for a second her vision went rosy. A second later one of her big bookshelves along the wall toppled, squishing Vincent Malcolm under over a hundred pounds of books. The shelf came thumping down just short of Hermione, still standing by the door.

She backed away in shock, opening the door and running down the stairs. Her parents and the Malcolms had started to come up after hearing the thump. "Vincent . . . my bookshelf . . . he's stuck . . . it wasn't me . . . is he okay!"

The Malcolms ran up the stairs, and by the time the Grangers got there, Mrs. Malcolm was in hysterics and Mr. Malcolm had called the fire department. Firemen had to extract Vincent from under Hermione's books. Vincent survived, but had a broken leg, and concussion, and several large and painful bruises. The Malcolms left immediately for the hospital, leaving Hermione and her parents alone in their living room. 

"Hermione?" her dad said gently. "Do you want to tell us what happened?"

"Well, we'd just gotten to my room and I asked if Vincent wanted to play a game or something. Then Vincent stood up and my bookshelf just fell on him." She knew that she couldn't mention that Vincent had made her very mad. 

"Are you sure that you didn't push it or anything?" her mother asked. 

"Mum, of course not! I would never do that!"

"All right," her father said. "You'd better get some sleep."

Hermione lay in bed that night replaying the events of the night in her mind and wondering how she'd been able to tip the bookshelf over without touching it.