Not a Huge Surprise, to Be Honest
In the moderately sized house at the end of Heath-gate Street on the outskirts of the London suburbs, August of 1990 started as any other day for the Granger family. They had shared breakfast, the children had practiced piano and French, and they had smiled at the normalcy of it all. That is— until about four thirty in the afternoon. Following an introduction, a tea-time conversation, and a major revelation, Helen and Thomas Granger stared in amazement at the older woman in front of them. Deputy headmistress Minerva McGonagall sat patiently on a gently worn armchair, clutching a teacup in her hands. Her long, green robes and pointed hat were a stark reminder of the bombshell she was imparting to the surprised parents in front of her. She was waiting for the news to sink in as she sipped her tea. The only sound in the room was the clinking of china. Helen and Thomas Granger sat staring back at the woman with wide eyes, their cups of the warm drink momentarily forgotten. A book titled Hogwarts: A History sat tauntingly on the coffee table in front of them. There was a moment of silence before Helen blurted out, “I beg your pardon?” her face showing her conflicting feelings.
“Oh, do call me Minerva. I know this is quite a shock. I am the liaison for muggleborn families and Hogwarts. I understand this might be overwhelming, so I'll ask you some questions. Have you never noticed anything strange happening without explanation? Particularly in heightened moments of emotion? For example, things move without notice or doors slam open when it would otherwise be impossible?” Replies the witch in a heavily accented Scottish baroque voice.
Thomas let out a breath he had not realized he was holding and looked at his wife with scrunched eyebrow, “A Witch and magical schools? That seems...” he said, trailing off, looking towards the stairs. His wife looked in the same direction before finishing for him, “…impossible.”
Minerva smiled kindly, to ease their distress and spoke gently with a sternness from years of practice, “I understand. It all can be quite a shock to muggle—non-magical- parents like yourself. I know it is hard to hear, but it does not change the truth.” Helen and Thomas raised their eyes and stared as their minds drifted. Hearing that their daughters were magical beings did not come as much of a shock as it should’ve, as Professor McGonagall had assumed.
After struggling for years and experiencing three miscarriages, the young couple had despaired of ever having children. They were madly in love and, from the beginning, talked animatedly about children of their own. They were overjoyed when, 4 months after their wedding in 1976, Helen revealed that she was expecting. It was barely a month later when the bleeding had begun. Thomas held his wife close as she cried for the child they would never know and shed tears of his own for the child they desperately wanted. His wife had walked around under a dark cloud for 5 months when she realized that she was pregnant again. However, that pregnancy, and the following, ended in the same devastating way. Helen experienced profound melancholy and sorrow. Thomas feared losing his wife to the overwhelming ache of loss and despair and therefore kept his feelings close to his chest. He hoped but prepared himself for the very real possibility that they may not ever be parents.
It came as a shock to the couple that a year after the last miscarriage, in the early days of January of 1979, they found out they were expecting once more. Initially overjoyed, the couple collectively held their breath at the possibility of heartbreak. It was only as the months passed, and her stomach grew bigger and bigger, were the couple was able to truly breathe. However, they knew that their fear would not settle until they finally held their baby.
On September 26th, in the maternity ward at Queen Charlotte’s Hospital, Helen Granger gave birth to a daughter. Due to their love of Shakespearean plays, they decided to name her Eleanor, which came from King John. Following a brief discussion where Thomas preferred his daughter to have her mother’s middle name, while she favored his mother’s name, they decided that her middle name would be Rose. Nora, they would call her, was a beautiful baby with little tufts of auburn hair. After a brief cry, she contentedly rested in her mother's arms. The parents were shocked and overwhelmed with the love and subsequent joy that their family was finally whole.
The new parents were shocked when Helen felt the urge to push again moments later. Thomas, concerned about his wife's well-being, was taken aback when the midwife exclaimed, "Oh! Mrs. Granger, it is time to push once more; the second babe is coming.” Helen and Thomas stared at her in absolute shock, and then each other, not comprehending. Their shock waned quickly as another squeezing pain took over. Passing the baby to her husband, Helen prepped her already exhausted body to push once more.
Exactly four minutes later, Hermione Jean Granger arrived, squalling at the top of her lungs. Her dark hair was a copy of her father’s, and her parents fell into blissful happiness. Her name, Hermione, was inspired by the Sicilian queen in Shakespeare's The Winter’s Tale. Jean, respectively, was after her beloved maternal grandmother and mother. Thomas was all too pleased, and slightly smug, as his wife noted, that they would have a daughter named after her.
Elenor and Hermione were the apple of their parents’ eyes. Nora took her role as the older sister very seriously, even though she was minutes older. As they began to grow, Thomas and Helen noticed that unexplainably bizarre things began to happen. For instance, they would place the girls down for a nap in separate cribs and would find them snuggled together in the same crib when they went to check. They simply attested their lack of sleep to putting them down in the same crib, though they had been certain they placed them in separate ones. As they got older, the incidents became more prevalent. If one of the girls were mad, the cabinet doors might rattle or fly open. The lights would flicker if they squealed loudly in joy. Helen and Thomas had quickly decided that it did not matter if the windows opened randomly or if things disappeared, if they had their girls and they were happy.
Hearing that their girls were supposed witches had not come as a mind-blowing announcement—, in all honesty they had guessed years ago that something was different. The emotion that was plaguing them was different, it was fear. The fear they would have to let their girls go.
The parents were still contemplating in silence when they heard a soft voice coming from the stairs. “It is true, you know? I make things happen without meaning to. We both do.” All three adults turned towards the voice.
Thomas softly scolded his daughter, “Elenor Rose Granger, you know it is impolite to eavesdrop.” Helen shook her head and, with a firm hand on her husband's arm, smiled lovingly at her daughter, encouraging her to enter the room.
Eleanor, displaying a rare intelligence for her age, entered the room and looked at the professor. A child with sleek auburn curls, a soft smile, and hazel eyes looked at the headmistress. Minerva acknowledged the child with a smile before addressing the room, "I was informed there are two children in the home?"
Her parents nodded, and Nora spoke gently, “Hermione didn’t want to disobey by coming downstairs. I told her I would see if it was okay.”
As if the sound of her name was a beacon, a second voice spoke, “I apologize if we are interrupting, it’s just that we heard what you were saying.” Standing proudly at the foot of the stairs, with a curious look etched on her face, was Hermione Granger. Minerva laughed quietly to herself. She had known that the girls were twins, and though fraternal, they were remarkably similar.
Hermione shared her sister’s sweetheart face and ears. Her hair was a mess of wild chocolate curls. Something she inherited from her father. Her teeth were straight, though the two front were slightly larger, she had the same crooked smile as her mother and sister. Her large curious brown eyes held the same intelligence as her twin and were sitting under identical bushy eyebrows that was a Granger family trait, to be sure.
Hermione approached her twin and grasped her hand lightly before looking between the adults. Minerva cleared her throat before recounting and explaining to the girls her reason for visiting. With a look shared between them, a silent communication that the others were not privy to, they launched into a tirade of questions. Hermione rapidly fired about everything she could think of, whereas Nora gently enquired about something every few moments. Minerva answered everything steadfastly with a smile. Thomas and Helen watched their girls with looks of sadness. The children’s excitement was obvious, and they even saw a light flicker. They knew it would not be long before they had to let their babies go.
Nora was quieter than her sister, but she did ask a question for every four Hermione did. Helen smiled despite her warring feelings. Her daughters exhibited similarities, yet each possessed unique traits that marked them as distinct individuals. Eleanor was a quiet child but still overwhelmingly brave. She wouldn’t say Nora was fearless, but if there was something that Nora was afraid of, they hadn’t encountered it yet. She often told her husband that she thought Nora was a little old lady in a child’s body because of how observant she was. Thomas often remarked privately that Nora had a greater understanding than others. Many thought she was exceptionally intelligent for her age, but Helen and Thomas were not concerned. They often encouraged their girls to read and learn, something they both did in spades. The one thing that scared them both, not because they were ashamed— rather the fear of what she might do, was Nora’s unwavering protectiveness and loyalty to the things she cared about. She was a fierce child, and they could only imagine how she would be as she got older. She loved her sister and would do anything for her. Even punching someone, Helen thought in amusement. This is precisely what Nora did when a young boy in their grade was relentlessly teasing Hermione for participating in class discussions by answering and asking questions. Thinking of her younger child made her smile.
Hermione was unapologetically herself. She spoke her opinion without fear, even if others used her against her. She would never back down on her opinions. However, with a little bit of coaching from her dad, she was able to view all sides of the argument and amend when she was wrong. Nora usually did not express her thoughts unless prompted, whereas Hermione tended to share her ideas openly. They sometimes wished that Hermione had her sister's reserved nature, mostly in the classroom, but quickly dismissed it. It was a characteristic that defined Hermione. They would never force her to change, nor did they want her to. She shared her sister's loyalty and protectiveness to a fault. Yet, Helen knew her younger daughter would always follow the rules. Helen and Thomas both knew, without a doubt, that Hermione was going to be a leader one day— even if she was the younger twin. Until then, they were glad that Nora and Hermione had each other to lean on. Even though the other kids and parents did not see how amazing their girls were, Helen and Thomas knew they were extraordinary.
In the living room, Minerva managed the girls' questions better than others. It relieved some uncertainty about the future. Minerva acknowledged to herself that these two young women would undoubtedly prove to be a formidable presence. She had hopes they would be a part of her cubs in the coming year, as she already felt a growing kinship with the young witches but knew that they would excel no matter where they were. It would most certainly be a pleasure to teach them anyway. Producing two identical letters from within her robe, she watched as they looked over the wax seal in the shape of the Hogwarts crest. They were buzzing with excitement, and Minerva knew why. It was hard fitting in a world in which one truly did not belong. Years ago, she had felt that way before receiving her letter.
With a face-splitting grin each, they asked in unison, “When can we leave?” Helen laughed as Thomas cleared his throat, which had grown quite clogged with emotion, “Slow down, nothing has been decided.” The girls turned and gave their father an impertinent look with a lift of their eyebrows, something they had mastered at a very young age, as he gave one back.
Attempting to smother her laugh at the growing show down, Professor McGonagall called the group's attention back, “Should your parents agree, the next term begins in September.” She pulled out her wand, something the girls moved closer to observe, and gently tapped the thick parchment she had laid next to the book, revealing a map of the major wizarding areas, “The book I gave you will explain everything—What Hogwarts is, what we teach, our history, and what happens when a child is unable to control their magic. This is a map of the major shopping areas where you will find the girls’ supplies. The list is provided with their acceptance letters. I shall be back to escort you to Diagon Alley for the first time and answer any questions you might have.” As she rose and stepped back out into the darkening sky, they thought of asking how they were going to communicate their chosen day. Before they could utter a word, the older witch had disappeared with a resounding pop, leaving a small puff of green smoke behind.
//
Months later, on a chilly day in February, they found a brown owl tapping at their window with a note attached to its leg. The note instructed the Grangers to respond with a preferred day to visit the shops and pay the owl. Before they could hand the owl the small treat they had found in the letter, it had happily jumped across the counter and was nibbling on a biscuit that Helen had made for breakfast.
When they visited Diagon Alley, they were unsure of what to expect. Of course, the girls had explained, based on their reading, what to expect; however, nothing truly prepared them for what they would find. A variety of shops were situated along a busy cobblestone street, gracefully illuminated by the sunlight. The street itself was bustling with several types of people. Many of them wore robes in an assortment of colors, like those worn by Professor McGonagall. The twins whipped their heads in every direction. The first shop that Nora had spotted was a tall stone building with green paneling and a door. Across the top of the window read Flourish and Botts, while the sign read— Flourish and Botts: Bookseller, school Books sold here, standard book of spells, all grades. The window was filled with books from top to bottom, and she hummed in excitement at the sight.
McGonagall had informed them on the way over that they would need to set up an account at Gringotts wizarding bank. The book explained that Gringotts was run by Goblins. The girls had been left stunned at the idea that it used dragons for security of the bigger vaults and that the bank itself stretched hundred of miles below the surface of London. They decided that magic was better than they expected.
As they walked the cobbled street, they took a slight turn, and the older witch pointed out a towering white building with Gringotts Bank carved across the entryway. The white stone building was massive, leaned slightly to the right, and was bigger than any other shop on the street. Though they couldn’t see the back, Nora and Hermione surmised that it was deceiving in appearance. Once they stepped inside, they knew they had been correct.
The marble hall was vast and decorated in gold. They could hear the click of their shoes as they moved forward. Over a hundred pairs of beady little eyes stared at them from the perched seats placed behind two rows of desks. They scribbled furiously in large ledgers, weighed coins on brass scales, and some were examining precious jewels through eyeglasses. There were countless doors along the hall, with goblins moving people in and out. McGonagall led them through to a desk with a placard reading Muggle Money Exchange. The girls didn’t pay much attention to the transaction themselves but instead twisted their eyes in every direction to try and see exactly where the doors led. After the goblin took their money, he handed them a bag of coins. He carefully explained to the girls what knuts, sickles, and galleons were and the value of each. He instructed them that they could come back at any time to open a vault for them both. Once their business was complete, they made their way back outside and continued their excursion. They shopped for uniforms at Madam Malkins. Bought their textbooks and many others at Flourish and Botts. They stocked both girls up on quills, ink, and parchment at Scrivengshaft’s. Everywhere they went, the girls were more amazed than the next.
After about an hour, Minerva led the group to a worn and cracked building. A faded wooden sign swung gently in the summer breeze; “Ollivander’s” was painted in bold letters across the top. Hermione was vibrating with excitement, and Nora was attempting, though unsuccessfully, to hide her nervousness. McGonagall had explained about getting a wand and that Ollivander’s was the best place to do so.
A chime of the bell indicated their entrance, and an older gentleman with long white hair and unblinking silver eyes appeared from behind a shelf in the back. Besides them, McGonagall warmly greeted the man, who they learned was Mr. Ollivander himself. “Pleasure to see you, Professor McGonagall, 9 ½ inches long, fir wood and a dragon heartstring. Quite flexible if I remember correctly.” She nodded that he was correct as he turned toward the others. The Granger family greeted him and went to introduce themselves, though he seemed to know the twins' names before they even said them. “Ah, yes, Miss Eleanor and Hermione Granger. It is a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said with a soft voice. Nora was curious how he knew, but she also felt the back of her neck tingle, like the shop contained an older magic. Instead of staring at the storage silver eyes, she focused on the thousands of narrow boxes, stacked neatly in rows from floor to ceiling.
He stared at the girls for a moment, his silver eyes twinkling like stars in the dark shop. He approached Hermione first, pulling out a long tape measure, “Which is your arm wand?” Hermione produced her right arm, and he began to take measurements from her arms to the size of her head. He went on to explain that Ollivander's wand cores were exceptionally powerful. They used dragon heartstrings, unicorn hair, and phoenix feathers. “No two wands are alike as no unicorn, dragon or phoenix are quite the same. And, of course, you will not get the same results using another’s wand.” As he stated this, the girls realized the tape measure had turned to Nora and was doing the same but for her left hand, all on its own. How he knew she was left-handed, they didn’t know. He was moving towards a stack, called for it to stop and it fell in a heap on his desk. He handed Hermione one wand before snatching it back just as quickly. He gave her another before pulling back on that one, a while muttering the size, wood, core, and flexibility for each. Finally, after a moment, he pulled a wand from a dusty box near the middle of the shelf, “Here we go, 10 ¾ long, vine wood with a core of Hungarian Horntail heart string, slightly flexible, though quite stubborn. Yes, go ahead now!” Unsure of what exactly to do, Hermione felt the wood warm in her hand and swished her wand. Bright sparks shot from the end, and a few papers gently floated before settling. McGonagall and her parents clap excitedly as Mr. Ollivander cries, “Oh, excellent! Very good, indeed. I expect great things, Miss Granger. These two together speak of a power and greater purpose. Wonderful.” He then turned back towards his stack while the girls examined the wand. It was dark in color, thicker, and had vines wrapped around the handle.
They are pulled from their examination as the wand-maker appears before them, holding a wand out to Nora. He mutters about the wand's makeup, like Hermione's process. He motions for her to go ahead, but nothing happens, and he pulls it from her hand, replacing it with another. This pattern continues as the piles of wands stack up. He finally stops, pulling a wand from a shelf farther back, “Let us see... hmm. Yes, unique...” He says, trailing off as he presents her a wand, “10 inches long, cypress wood and a Ukrainian Iron-belly heartstring, completely solid.” Once the wood is pressed into her hand, it begins to warm as she swishes the wand. Red and green sparks shoot from the end, and a few flowers from a vase spin gently as if dancing. “Yes, how wonderful. This wand speaks of boldness and bravery. I expect wonderful things, Miss Granger.”
Nora let out a soft breath of relief before examining her wand. In contrast to her sister's, the wand is a light ash color, thinner and sleek. What raised her eyebrow was the beautiful Celtic knot design engraved into the handle. She showed the others, and they softly fawned over it, yet it was McGonagall’s raised eyebrows that caught her attention. McGonagall quickly schools her features as they turn to pass over the seven galleons each for their wands, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from the shop.
After the wand shop, McGonagall excused herself from the group for the day. They continued shopping for their school supplies. They finished buying all their supplies and even managed to convince their parents to buy one more book before setting off back home. As they stepped through the brick archway back into the Leaky Cauldron, Nora gazed back for one last look.
In the months leading to their departure, Hermione and Nora maintained their usual routines. They continued to ignore their school peers, mostly because of the relentless teasing. It didn’t bother them much anymore because they knew that after the summer, they wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore. They spent time reading and rereading their textbooks and the other books they had bought, practicing waving their wand and dreaming of their new home. The one thing that was frightening for the young witches was the possibility of being sorted into separate houses. Both having read over Hogwarts: A History, knew it was a strong possibility— yet hoped differently.