Softly and Slowly

Recall the principles of life that apply to your trajectory. The juncture of that singular point where you determined who or what you desired to be. Have you ever felt that these dreams destroyed your future? The path of normality, which could develop into a successful and profitable life, is what you repudiate in fear of conventionality. One that left you yearning for more.  

Was it normal to feel this way? It did not appear so taking account of the perplexed from her parents. But then again, Hermione was not all that normal, so perhaps this was just another not-so-normal thing about her. Yet whether or not these reflections were standard for a ten-year-old girl, they were most certainly frightening. Fear was the only emotion she experienced when ruminating about her future, and it had everything to do with her not-so-normalness.  

Hermione was capable of doing many things her peers could not. One could call her magically inclined. She could make the kitchen lights sputter out in a bang or have the pages of a book flip on their own accord. If Hermione put her mind to it, she could do a myriad of impossible things. But there were times when Hermione lost control. When things occurred, but she could not foresee them.  

There were instances when she was frustrated or stressed, feeling as though she were about to pop a blood vessel, and did her blood vessel pop? No, it was just the window breaking.    

The point was that she had no jurisdiction over her powers. Occasionally she did after deliberating what she desired to happen for a good ten minutes or so, but it appeared her magic had a mind of its own, and Hermione would not stand for that. What was the point of having magic if she was incapable of wielding it?  

Magic held the significance of changing her entire life, but through mastering it. That is why she was in dire need of a teacher, a textbook, and lessons. Then again, there was always the possibility that only she could perform magic, which was egotistic to believe, but feasible, nonetheless. 

At this point in her life, she would not be able to do much about it. A ten-year-old girl in primary school was not exactly fit for making decisions themselves. For a good reason, Hermione supposed. After all, she had just spent the past five minutes acting as though she were going through a mid-life crisis. This introspection brought her back to the original conflict. 

Hermione needed to develop her magic; she was drawn more to this part of herself than the “normal” parts. She did not want to grow up concealing her oddities. She did not want to practice dentistry like her parents. (Not that there was something particularly wrong with dentists. It just wasn’t her cup of tea.)    

First, she needed to find someone else who could perform magic. Then, she would persuade this individual to assist her and vice versa with magic. That would suffice; she could start her quest at her academy by investigating suspicious behavior from her peers. She could be more vigilant of her surroundings. Maybe that would help. Perhaps she could find somebody just as unique as her.  

Hermione's academy was one of prestige. It was well-known for its rigorous structure and rule-abiding students, with many brilliant minds graduating its halls. It was here that Hermione spent most of her time, whether at the library or in classes, telling her professors about a fact she had learned in one book or another. Here, she was well-known. The staff revered her prodigy and eagerness to learn, as she showed much potential for a girl, since usually it was the boys who showed such rare affinity toward subjects like science or maths. She was special here, even without her magic.

Although she was favored among the staff, few students tolerated her presence. There was only one girl Hermione could hold a conversation with who was Astrid. Hermione did not mind her company, but she did not have much to compare it to, so she could have been tricking herself out of loneliness. Astrid was easygoing and just a bit of a recluse. She was willing to listen to Hermione's ramblings, which even she had to admit were rather tiresome.  

Hermione was walking home from her academy. It was a chilly autumn day; the yellow leaves had already fallen from branches that once teemed with green. A week had passed, and still, there were no leads. The tree that was the academy bore no fruit. Maybe she was the only person who could perform magic. Would she have to hide her powers forever? No. She refused to continue thinking like this. She could not be the only one, and she must pound this belief into her head.  

A crunching of leaves behind her broke the thoughts. Hermione turned her head to see Astrid jogging up to her. 

“Afternoon, Astrid. Did you notice before class ended when Professor Flynn mentioned the Automata Theory? I’m certain it goes beyond what we’re learning, but it sounded so fascinating! What did you think-” The other girl cut her off. Hermione thought it was impolite and was about to say so but chose not to when Astrid spoke. 

“I just wanted to ask, Hermione, do you want to visit my place? I mean, you don’t have to, of course, it’s just that I told some friends about you and my school and such. You know it’s a bit hard for me to find someone who wants to be my friend, and they wanted to meet you for some reason. Please? Could you?” It came out rushed, barely discernable really, and she struggled to catch her breath afterward.  

That was peculiar. Did someone actually want to meet her? What could Astrid have said to make her friends so interested?  

Hermione supposed it would be fine as long as she told her parents beforehand. But it would be in her best interest to tread cautiously. Astrid and she were acquaintances at best, and she knew that the blonde girl lived a pretty long distance away. Somewhere near an orphanage, she believed.  

She nibbled on her bottom lip. She could always come up with some excuse about needing to study the Automata Theory, but the guilt would eat away at her. She knew Astrid would be disappointed. Perhaps there was even a possibility the friends she met were amiable. If not, she could politely suggest they get lost. 

“So? What do you say?” Astrid held a pleading look in her eyes.  

Hermione smiled, trying to lighten the mood and the anxiety etched on her features. It was just for one day, after all.  

“Why not? I just hope these friends of yours are worth it.” She said, putting on a stern tone. But Astrid was not listening, for she was only relieved Hermione said yes. 

All that weighed upon her now was guilt.  

Hermione would return home at 8 p.m. sharp. It seemed to be a pretty long time, but she supposed she needed some for the ride home. Astrid had departed with her parents, and they expressed their excitement over her arrival.  

It only took a bit for Hermione to get ready, stuffing two of her textbooks and the newest reads within her bag.  

She felt giddy during the ride there. She would be meeting new kids her age  and  accompanying Astrid. Perhaps they could be more than just acquaintances!   

Her parents dropped her off. After kissing her mum and dad both on the cheeks, she left the vehicle and took in her surroundings. The buildings had a strange gloom hanging over them, even as the sun shone brightly. The autumn leaves added more color to the otherwise dark shaded houses, all being a hue of black, light grey, or white. A breeze pulled some strands out of the plait her hair was mercilessly pulled in. Hermione walked up the steps to the house addressed 203.  

She was about to knock on the door when it swung open to reveal Astrid’s eager face, inches away from her fist.  

“Hermione! You are right on time. My parents are making dinner, so they said I could take you to meet my friends!” She grinned, but it seemed a bit paranoid. She refused to make any baseless judgments, though.  

“Well alright, where do they want to meet?” Hermione questioned as she followed Astrid down the cobblestone sidewalk. The girl shuffled a bit, taking on a nervous stance.  

“Well... You see, they’re orphans. They live a block over at Wool’s Orphanage.”  

“Oh. I’ve never been to an orphanage before. Are we allowed to visit...?” she asked, a bit anxious. She hoped their meeting did not involve breaking in or something.  

“Yes! Yes, of course. My parents know the matron, Mrs. Cole, and we sometimes donate money for their beach trips. That is when I became friends with some of the orphans. Mrs. Cole is more open to visitors than you would imagine.” Astrid finished her sentence just as they reached their destination.   

It was three separate buildings surrounded by a black fence. The center building was quite a few stories tall and held less width than the two flanking it. Hermione felt puny next to it. She kicked a few leaves, filling the suddenly quiet space with noise.  

What did she think of this? She strongly desired to retire in her comfy room and continue reading her new books. This orphanage was an unfamiliar place that did not seem all too welcoming.  

“Well, we should head in!” Astrid was much too enthusiastic about this. Despite Hermione wanting to make an inelegant withdrawal, she followed anyway.  

“They should be in the backyard. It is the off-time right now.” She said, guiding the brunette.  

Barren trees and yellow grass. Fraying brick building with a black fence. Chipped paint and neutral aura.   

It was the perfect setting for a horror novel.   

"It seems a bit glum here,” Hermione stated absentmindedly, a bit unnerved. Astrid merely nodded. She was used to colorful shops and the pale-yellow color of the dentistry and their house. She imagined the orphanage was bright and lively during the summer. Maybe autumn didn’t do it justice? Or perhaps it just looked like a haunted house all year round.   

Astrid nudged her shoulder and pointed to a group of three individuals beneath a tree. She presumed these were the friends she was about to be introduced to. Their features were indiscernible because of the tree's shadow, but they appeared to be a tad older than her considering their stature.  

Hermione felt herself getting dragged towards the tree. She wanted to dig her heels into the dirt to arrest this impending doom she felt in her chest. Something about this seemed nefarious. But she was probably overthinking things again.  

She could finally make out their faces. There was a boy. A bit gangly with a splattering of freckles across his face. He had light brown hair, and a sneer was apparent on his features. The other, a girl this time, was fair-faced with kindhearted but dull eyes. Dirty-blonde hair framed her face.  

Finally, the third figure came to view.  

And Hermione fell in love.