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Disclaimer- To my great misfortune, it is JK Rowling that is amazingly rich for creating the characters of Harry Potter, not me.

This is my second fanfic. Please review, but do not flame. Constructive criticism is encouraged.

“Hermione, darling,” Hermione’s mum said, “We need to talk.”

Hermione Granger stopped herself from heading out the door to the library. It was the summer before her sixth year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, and there were only two weeks until school started up again. Hermione’s hair was as bushy as ever, but she had grown up, filling out in all the right places. Her honey brown eyes glimmered with worry as she sat down silently on the floral print love seat across from her mum.

‘Uh Oh,’ Hermione thought to herself. Everybody knows that ‘we need to talk’ are the four most dreaded words in the English language. Whatever her parents had to say could not be good. Her father entered the room with a box of Kleenex, a sure sign that what they had to talk about would be disturbing enough to possibly make her cry.

“Hermione, throughout all of these years, you have excelled at witchcraft, and you know that we love you and are proud of you,” her mum, Gladys, said, tears already forming around her aqua blue eyes.

“But the fact remains that there is something of great importance that we must discuss with you. You are one of the brightest witches of your age, or at least according to that magic newspaper that you showed us. Yet your father and I are what do you call them... oh yes, muggles!” Gladys said, her voice steadily becoming more and more shaky.

“Yes, mum, I’ve known that since I was eleven. What does that matter?” Hermione questioned in confusion.

“You see, Hermione honey, sixteen years ago was a rather dangerous period in England,” Hermione’s father, Tom, began to explain, “Us regular people, muggles, were dying mysteriously. Since your mother and I could not have any children back then, we decided to adopt. When we went to the orphanage, the lady informed us of the war in the wizarding world.”

“Of course, at first we laughed at her,” Tom continued, “Magic! Who ever heard of such a nonsensical idea? Then, she showed us the war torn streets of Diagon Alley. We were shocked that such a thing could be going on without anyone else knowing about it. The lady convinced us to adopt a baby who would grow up to belong to this strange world of magic. We agreed and brought that baby home. We cared and loved it as if it were our own child. That baby, Hermione, was you.”

Hermione simply sat there, speechless from the shocking story that apparently was her life. She couldn’t believe it, that she Hermione Granger, wasn’t even Hermione Granger at all. What was her last name? What were her real parents like? Were they dead or alive? Thoughts swam in Hermione’s mind and she began to fell rather faint.

“Last June, while you were still in school, we received a letter from your real parents. They wish to have you returned to them, and your mother and I have no choice but to obey. Tomorrow you must go to their house, and you shall spend the rest of your summer there. In fact you are to live there from now on,” Tom said, his usually merry voice beginning to crack with grief.

“But... why now? And why did they give me up for adoption?” Hermione questioned in a soft, disbelieving voice.

“We were told that they were afraid for your safety during the first wizarding war. Apparently they thought that it was dangerous for a baby. As for why now, I’m afraid that I don’t know,” her father replied, tears now streaming down his face as he reached for a Kleenex.

At this point, Hermione was the only one who was not in tears. She was still too shocked to cry. How could this happen to her? Harry was the orphan, not her. True her real parents were alive, but Hermione could never come to love them as she did the Granger’s.

Gladys reached out and hugged Hermione, practically suffocating her. Tom quickly came over and joined them in a huge group suffocate-Hermione hug. Soon, Hermione was soaking wet from the tears shed by her parents, or rather, her adoptive parents.

“Hermione darling, I love you so much. Please don’t ever forget us. I don’t want to let my baby go,” Gladys sobbed into Hermione’s neck, still refusing to let go of her precious Hermione.

“Don’t worry, I’ll never forget you both. I’ll never stop loving you,” Hermione whispered fiercely, the tears that had previously refused to fall, now cascading down her face.

Hermione sat on her bed, packing her suitcase and preparing to leave. Her mascara and eyeliner were now smeared down her face, evidence of her tears. She couldn’t decide on what to pack. Should she take all of her clothes? Or just a few in hopes of getting new ones?

What did it even matter, though? Hermione was still too upset to worry about clothes. She was leaving her family, the people who sheltered her and clothed her. Nothing could get worse than that!

On the bright side, however, she was starting a new journey that would surely be filled with adventure. She would be just like one of the characters in her beloved books. That’s what she should take! How could Hermione, book worm Gryffindor forget her books?

If she became lonely or frightened at her new home, she would always have Lizzy Bennet or Catherine Earnshaw to keep her company. Her favorite books were ‘Pride and Prejudice’ and ‘Wuthering Heights’. Hermione always admired Elizabeth’s quick wit and intelligence, and Catherine’s spunk and adventure. And the romance in both of these books was enough to sweep her away into a whole new world were all of her troubles were forgotten.

Hermione picked up her worn copy of ‘Pride and Prejudice’ and began to let her fears and worries dissolve into the story of Elizabeth Bennet and her Mr. Darcy. Before she knew it, Hermione was fast asleep, her book still in her hands, dreaming of distant lands were every body lived happily ever after.


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