Chapter 1
Dear Hermione Granger,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and wizardry. Please find enclosed—
She stops reading as the memories crash into him. Hermione? Hogwarts?
“Miss—“
“Oh for fucks sake,” he snarls, throwing the letter to the side.
“Miss Granger!” McGonagall chastises as Hermione's parents gasp. “That kind of language will not be accepted at—“
No. Fuck that, he’s not going through everything Hermione did—and fuck, he’s a girl again. he had just finished transitioning! He takes a breath. Think about it later, first he has to deal with this.
“And if I don’t go? Cause I don’t wanna go—“ wait.
Should he… ugh. Pros and cons time.
Pros of not going:
1- no war.
2- no bullshit teachers like Snape or Dumbledore or—he shudders in disgust—Umbitch.
He holds up a hand to stop her as McGonagall goes to speak.
3- uh…right! No bigotry—or at least, not the muggleborn/pureblood kind.
Okay, pros of going:
1- magic, obviously.
2- he’d feel guilty for leaving an eleven year old with the world on his shoulders without ‘Hermione Granger’ to help—you know what? Fuck it. He’s not leaving Harry alone to deal with this shit.
He drops his hand and puts on his best, polite, nervous—oh no I just swore at a teacher—smile.
“Sorry ma’am, I think I was just shocked, it’s… a lot.”
McGonagall settles a bit at that, anger turning a little more understanding.
“Of course, but do try to not swear again, no matter how agitated.”
“Yes ma’am!” He beams at her, using what is probably an adorable baby face to his full advantage to get out of trouble.
“Well,” McGonagall starts with a sigh, “if you have collected yourself, and all understand the situation, we should be heading to Diagon alley to get everything you need.”
He jumps up, excited to see Diagon Alley—in real life—running to grab his coat, only to freeze, hand out reaching to grab It from his bed—no. Not his bed. Hermione Granger’s bed. But how had he known which room was hers? That her coat would be here? And fuck, he’d died. He’s a child now. What’s supposed to be a fictional child.
“Hermione!” his mum—not his mum—calls from downstairs.
He takes a deep breath and calls, “Coming!” as he pushes everything to the side.
He’ll think about it later. He runs down the stairs, to meet his—not his—later, think about it later.
He smiles at them.
“Let’s go!”
***
Diagon Alley is amazing.
He can’t help but stop at every shop they pass to peek inside. They sell everything here!
“First we will need to stop by the bank to exchange some money,” McGonagall explains.
“Can I do it?!” Hermione—as he should probably start calling himself— asks, wanting to meet the goblins.
“Of course, hun!” his ‘dad’ agrees, handing him the bundle of money they were planning on using, before McGonagall can speak.
“Make sure to be polite,” his ‘mum’ adds.
McGonagall looks uncertain, but doesn’t say anything as they walk up to the bank. He sees his parents faulter at the sight of the two goblin guards standing out the front, but Hermione charges on with a grin. He gives a nod of acknowledgment to each guard as he passes, before walking up to a free teller.
He waits, ignoring the adults catching up behind him, for the goblin to stop his work to look down at him with a sneer.
“Excuse me, sir? May I please exchange this money?” he asks, reaching up on his tippy toes to place the money in front of him.
The goblin reaches out to take the money, muttering to himself as he counts it, before plonking a pouch of what he assumes are coins in front of him and going straight back to work.
Hermione reaches again to take the pouch, giving a small bow and a “Thank you, sir,” before turning to leave.
He gives another nod to the guards on the way out, skipping back out into the alley.
“Can we get books now?” he quickly asks, making his ‘parents’ chuckle.
“I think we should save that for last, if we don’t get everything else first I doubt we’d get anything done,” his ‘mum’ replies.
Hermione pouts.
“Can’t you all go get everything else, while I go get books?” he pleads.
“I’m afraid not, Miss Granger,” McGonagall interjects, not noticing him cringe at the ‘miss’. “Not only are you yourself needed for most things we need to do, I also don’t want us splitting up.”
Hermione sighs, but nods. He’ll be patient.
Three minutes later, Hermione’s looking over some newt eyes while his ‘parents’ pay with McGonagall's help. He's distracted from his staring when some people enter the shop. He immediately recognises them from their hair alone. The Malfoys. They are so blond.
The youngest spots him as his parents move on without him further into the shop. Draco looks him up and down, eyes catching on Hermione's obviously muggle clothes and bush of hair, before he sneers at him in disgust. Oh no he fucking doesn‘t. He sees his parents moving towards the exit, his ‘dad’ making eye contact to make sure he knows to follow. Hermione nods, walking to leave, but stops by Draco before he does, smiling politely, back straight and eyes looking over him like he’s a squashed bug.
“Heir Malfoy,” he greets, giving barely a nod, before walking out, leaving a bewildered Draco.
He’s snickering as soon as he’s out of ear shot, speeding up to catch his ‘parents’.
Messing with him is gonna be fun.
***
It took forever, but finally, finally they’re at the book shop, which—he turns to give McGonagall an incredulous look.
“Is there a second hand place?”
McGonagall raises a brow, but it’s his dad who speaks.
“Hermione,” he starts softly, “we can afford—“
“I know,” he cuts in, “but we can get even more from a second hand place. And I don’t need new books, it’d just be a waste of money that could be spent on other books.”
His ‘parents’ worried looks had quickly turned amused and McGonagall was smiling at him.
“This way, Miss Granger.”
Ugh, ‘miss’.
***
If he wasn’t so busy picking books he’d be dancing in glee.
His parents had given him free rein—which they’d probably come to regret later— and he was grabbing anything and everything that caught his eye, from politics and the old ways to runes and animagi to a magic cooking book!
His parents did end up cutting him off and making him put three books back—farewell magic cooking—but he didn’t complain. He’s going to do nothing but read for months.
He's already halfway through his first book by the time they get home.