To Her

The Letters

A package arrived at her London flat containing Godric knows what on a Thursday evening.

Hermione was hesitant looking at the box on her doorstep. Debating on whether or not she should even be near it let alone inspect it, considering the war had ended two years prior and she on the prevailing side, she stared at it.

Ms. Hermione Granger
63 St Margret's Rd
London, England

No return address. She continued to stare at the curious package. Looking for a nail scratch, a dent, a rip, a tooth mark, any signs of rough handling. She tried to sense any sign of dark magic with her gut, her head, her heart, her entire magical being. Nothing.

With a soft flick of her wand, she levitated the package into the living room and set it on the coffee table closing the door behind her, already nervous about what could be inside. Inhaling through her nose filling her lungs slowly, she took a couple steps back behind a wall and cast a charm to rip the tape off the package from a distance, hoping nothing would explode and destroy her home.

She counted to ten as she hid behind a wall and after no explosion or one of the Unforgivables, she took slow steps toward the package and peered inside. A heap of letters. Confused, she took a seat on her couch and started to scatter through the letters within the box, noticing there was no returning address on any of them.

February, 1997
To Her

December, 1996
To Her

May, 1998
To Her

She assumed that these were the dates that they were written, but never sent. She searched for the earliest date she could find through the hundreds within the box.

June, 1996
To Her

She stared at the letter as she did the entire package before, curiously and intriguingly. Who would have written her letters during these years at Hogwarts? Who were her friends during these years? Of course that list didn't change, she's had the same group of friends since her early years. Who were enemies during that year?

She snorted. There were too many to count. Umbridge, Snape, the entire Slytherin house, maybe Ron, but that was a one-sided sort of hate on her own end.

With reluctance, and as always curiosity, she opened the letter and pulled the written words out of the envelope.

To Her,

After all these years in a monument of magic I thought to be my home, I find myself in a box car of the train of my youth, heading back to the house (NOT home) of my youth.

I remember being on this train in my first year. It was the first year I was able to leave the abundance of hoverers that was my family, relatives, and house elves. In a box car surrounded by my childhood acquaintances, I had more bloody freedom than I'd ever had in my entire life. I gorged in many chocolate frogs and pumpkin pasties until I felt sick, and it was the happiest I had ever felt.

I am unsure why I find myself telling you such personal anecdotes of my childhood. I have never done that with anyone, even my own mother. She would Avada me if she found out how many sweets I would indulge in.

I had always watched you with amazement. Knowing you were muggle-born and could outsmart any witch or wizard here annoyed me beyond infinity because I was overflowing with envy. I knew my family's prejudices had been weaved into my opinions and beliefs in my earlier years, but I merely ignored it because I didn't know better. But during this past year, it become clear to me.