The Twists As The Story Turns

THE WITCHING H🕒UR

I wave my hands and the sparkles from my fingers fly up into the air like little fireworks, whirling round and round, making beautiful star speckled patterns on my blanket.

Soft footsteps sound on the corridor outside my room.

Mom!

Quickly I slip in between the covers, closing my eyes, trying to calm my racing heart.

My door gives a groan and I hold still, focusing on the rise and fall of my chest.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

A soft creak and she is gone. I sigh in relief and wait for the distinctive click of their bedroom door, before throwing off my  covers.

I jump down from the bed padding to the window and peer through the glass.

The moonlit streets are perfectly still. The dog across the street is making tiny whining noises in its sleep.

I look at my hands and click my fingers. The windows fly open. I smile to myself in satisfaction.

People may call me a freak, but I love being what I am — unique, magical.

There is a melodious jingling and I'm surprised to see a hooded figure on a bicycle. I look at the watch.

2 am!

The man stops at the gate of my house.

A scream builds itself up in my throat! He's no doubt a burglar. But wait.

He takes something out of his bag and thrusts it into our mailbox. And then he's gone — vanished into the thin air!

I've never heard of mail delivery at the witching hour. A sudden madness seizes me and I tiptoe down to the front door, careful not to disturb my parents.

Thrusting my hands into the mailbox I find a sealed envelope. The pale moonlight is highlighting the name of the recipient in glossy black ink.

'Ms Hermione Granger' is written in an exquisitely neat hand.

I run to my room and lock my door, my heart pounding against my chest.

'Hogwarts' is written in bold with a beautiful crest below it. I slice it open and draw out a letter, getting more surprised by the minute.

The crisp ivory paper feels foreign under my fingers but the tantalizing smell makes me heady. This is it, this is what I am missing in my life.

The handwritten letter is even more interesting. My whole life becomes clearer to me with every passing second.

Congratulations on being accepted into Hogwarts...

I complete reading the entire acceptance letter in a breath. I sit on my bed stupefied, too stunned to even react to what I just read.

The whole thing feels like a bad prank. My hands are clammy with tension. I'm a witch?

A freaking WITCH?

The letter is signed — Albus Dumbledore.

He's either a fraud or a lunatic. These all can't be true!

I get up and pace about the room. This isn't all unfamiliar too. It's like someone has opened another window in me that I was blind to.

A school of witchcraft and wizardry? Is it my destiny? But what about being a doctor. My parents are dentists!

Aagh! Life is so complicated.

I sink to the floor, my head in my hands.

'You're a big girl Hermione. You're eleven.' I tell myself. 'Stop being a kid. Maybe it's the best for you. You'll make new friends.'

I've gotten no friends at school but I have my books. Who needs friends anyway? All the kids are a bunch of imbeciles!

I don't remember when exactly I started possessing extraordinary powers. There was a time when I could move toys to my crib without any help. My books arranged themselves in my school bag when I was a bit older.

We'll come and explain to your parents officially, miss. Expect us at 9.00 pm sharp and here is a list of all the things you need for your school year. You'll get all your necessary stuff at Diagon Alley.

I pull out another list.

Robes — 2 sets.
Uniforms — 2 sets
Shoes — 2 sets
A Wand
An owl

Books:
    
The History of Magic
by Bathilda Bagshot

The book of Potions...

Mhm! Interesting books! Only if I know where to find this Diagon Alley.

I scan through my telephone diary for a Diagon Alley but nothing pops up. I guess I have to wait till tomorrow evening to get to know what this all is about.

The prospects of a new life is quite enticing. I wonder how my parents will take in the news. I bet they'd believe them if they told me it's for my good. They've always supported me.

I get up on my bed, wide awake. The thoughts tumbling in my mind are too much to let me rest.

I still remember that day in kindergarten when I had accidentally brought the letters on my book to life and they were dancing around me. The others were stunned and they started wailing, the idiots!

My teacher informed my parents and they didn't believe a word she said. Nevertheless I was taken out of school and put into a new one.

Since then I knew that I had to hide this side of myself from the world. My entire life was spent on trying to blend in, to be normal.

I tried to gain acceptance but it was only ridicule that I got. My good grades did nothing to let the little slips I made go unnoticed. Sometimes I'd spontaneously use magic, scaring off what little friends I'd make.

Moving from school to school was my usual way. My parents never complained but I felt guilty.

Maybe I was mentally disturbed, abnormal.

But that wasn't me. This is me. This is freedom, liberation. Finally I don't feel incomplete. This is where I'm meant to be. My heart knows it.

I turn to my side and smile to myself.

'Hogwarts, here I come.' I say to the walls that stand mute, echoing my voice. 'I bet you'd have never seen a phenomenon more wilder than a Hermione Granger.'

998 words completed.
A/N Written for the contest by WattpadRowling. It's how I picture Hermione's letter gaining experience. What are your theories?