Toil and Trouble Chapter 7 : Preludes and Preparations - Part 2 (A Harry Potter fanfiction)

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(Due to the length of this chapter it has been split into three parts. Here’s Part 2.)

They arrived at the bank on a carriage that appeared to pull itself. When asked why they weren't apparated, First Secretary Andrea Bones explained that once Muggle parents have signed the Contract of Secrecy, it's acceptable for them to use other means of transportation. Hermione was relieved to hear this. Though apparation was fascinating as an instantaneous way to travel, the experience hadn't been enjoyable.

The polished marble floors of Gringotts gleamed as the Grangers followed Ms Bones through the grand hall. Hermione kept close to her parents, her eyes darting around at the goblins behind their high counters and the wizards and witches hurrying past with jingling purses.

Andrea’s heels clicked smartly as she approached a goblin clerk. “These are Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Parents of a Muggle-born child. They wish to open an account for their daughter, who will be starting at Hogwarts this September.”

The goblin gave a curt nod, his quill pausing over parchment. “Deposit?”

Mrs. Granger slid a pouch onto the counter. The sound of gold coins clinking drew Hermione’s attention.

The goblin inspected each one of them, sniffed, and nodded. “Hmmm....pure gold. Acceptable. Worth three thousand and one hundred and fifty Galleons. How much is to be deposited?”

Hugo gave the figure calmly.

"We'd like to deposit three thousand, the remaining one-fifty we'll take with us."

Rose turned to Andrea and asked quietly, "Miss, do you suppose a hundred and fifty would be sufficient for purchasing all of Hermione’s school supplies?"

Andrea didnt conceal her amusement.

"Oh absolutely, Mrs Granger", she replied with a chuckle, "with that amount you can buy three years' worth of school supplies."

Rose blushed and nodded her thanks.

The goblin’s quill scratched furiously. “Three thousand. A respectable sum. Not vault-worthy,” he said flatly, “but more than sufficient for a personal account.”

“Vault-worthy?” Hugo asked politely.

The goblin did not look up. “Vaults are reserved for accounts exceeding one million Galleons. This sum will be kept in your daughter’s name under ledger-accounting, accessible at any branch of Gringotts. Withdrawal cards may be issued.”

Hermione looked at her parents questioningly. They didn’t even blink. Her mother only smiled, resting a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “It’s more than enough for your studies, darling. You’ll be here on your own. And we want to make sure that you never run low on funds."

The goblin slid a ledger forward and slid a sheet of parchment towards Hermione. "Your name, here."

Hermione leaned over and, with a firm hand, signed Hermione Jean Granger. The ink glowed faintly, binding the account to her.

The goblin stamped the page with a seal, muttering, “Account opened. Balance deposited. Withdrawals may be made upon request. Interest rates are at two percent per annum. Keep your token.”

He handed Hermione a small, rune-marked chit of goblin silver. She turned it over in her palm, marveling at the way it pulsed against her skin.

Her father gave her an encouraging smile. “It’s yours now, sweetheart. Use it wisely.”

Hermione nodded, cheeks warm with gratitude. “Thank you, dad. I promise I will.”

"Well now that you have our currency", said Ms Bones, "we can get you to Diagon Alley and you can shop for your books and everything else you'll need."

The four of them got into the self driving carriage and were off.

Diagon Alley unfolded before them like a living tapestry. Buildings leaned against one another as though in conversation. Shop signs twirled and glittered, scents of parchment, ink, and polished wood.

Hermione stood rooted for a moment, eyes wide. “It’s… it’s like a city from a storybook."

Her mother’s voice softened. “It’s beautiful.”

Andrea smiled. “Welcome to your new world, Hermione. Now, let’s get you equipped.”

Their first stop was Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. Inside, bolts of fabric floated mid-air, hemming themselves with silver thread. A cheerful witch with a measuring tape around her neck ushered Hermione onto a low platform.

“First year at Hogwarts?” she chirped.

“Yes, ma’am,” Hermione said, standing as still as she could while enchanted scissors flitted about her like metal birds.

The Grangers purchased three sets of standard Hogwarts uniforms, a black wool robe and a silk one, pressed shirts, pleated skirts, and pointed hats, two winter coats, along with three pairs of dragonhide gloves so supple they felt almost alive.

Rose ran her hand over them. “They’re so warm.”

“Resistant to cold and minor burns,” said Madam Malkin proudly. “We use Norwegian Ridgeback hide. Humanely sourced, of course.”

Hugo gave a small, cautious laugh. “I never thought I’d hear burn resistance as a clothing feature for a child.”

“Occupational necessity in some classes,” Andrea said dryly.

Next came Ollivanders : Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

The shop was narrow, dimly lit, and lined floor-to-ceiling with slim wooden boxes.

An elderly man appeared soundlessly from between the shelves, his silvery eyes bright as candle flame. “Ah. New wand, is it? Miss Granger, I presume.”

Hermione was taken aback, “Yes, sir. Forgive me, but how could you have known?"

"Child, every time a new student receives their Hogwarts acceptance letter, I'm informed of it.", the old man told her with a kind smile.

“Now”, he said in a business-like tone, “Let us see.”

Boxes floated down to the counter one by one. The Grangers watched in amazement as they appeared to answer the wandmaker's call.

“Try this one, Miss. It is applewood, with a unicorn hair core. Eleven inches, pliant.”

She lifted it, felt a faint warmth, then nothing. The wand slipped from her grip and rolled across the counter.

“Not that one, then,” murmured Ollivander.

He opened another box and held out the ivory coloured wand to Hermione.

"Let's see if this one is yours. Aspen, with a phoenix feather core. Eleven inches."

Hermione gave the wand a flick, and the magic caused a glass jar to explode. Olivander swished his own wand and the glass shards disappeared.

"Definitely not."

He had Hermione try another. And another. Each fizzled or refused to glow, or did something violent. Hermione began to flush with frustration.

“Patience, Miss Granger,” Ollivander said softly. “The wand chooses the witch, not the other way around.”

Finally, he reached for a long, slender box wrapped in dark velvet. “Try this one. Vinewood with a dragon heartstring core. Ten and three-quarter inches.”

The moment her fingers closed around the handle, warmth flared up her arm like sunlight through water. A gentle hum filled the air. The light above the door brightened.

The wand made Hermione feel confident enough that she decided to cast her first spell right then and there.

With a swish of her wand, she uttered "Lumos".

The wand's tip began to glow, as bright as any flashlight.

Rose gasped. Hugo breathed a quiet "my word!".

Ollivander’s expression softened, "You have your wand, Miss Granger."

"It just feels so right", Hermione said cautiously.

“A powerful wand,” said Ollivander, eyes on Hermione. “Vinewood is quite rare. Responsive to intellect and integrity. Dragon heartstring adds strength, and ambition. You will do great things with this wand, Miss Granger. Use it wisely.”

“I will,” Hermione whispered.

Her parents paid, and Ollivander tucked the wand box into a paper bag stamped with his seal. As they stepped outside, Hermione couldn’t resist opening it once more, tracing the smooth wood with her fingertips. Her wand felt like an extension of her own being.

Andrea spoke up as they got un thr carriage, “Next stop is Eeylops Owl Emporium.”

“The owl,” Rose said, “Every student must have one?”

“Indeed,” Andrea replied. “It’s how correspondence travels between realms. If a family can’t afford their own, Hogwarts provides shared owls, but most prefer the bond of their own bird. But I suppose you'll be buying one for Hermione?"

"Yes, of course", replied Rose matter-of-factly.

"Miss Bones, I have a question." Hermione asked as they dismounted the carriage and walked into a narrower alleyway. "Why owls? They aren't particularly fast. Why not eagles or falcons?"

"You see Hermione, owls have certain innate magical abilities not found in other birds. These abilities make them exceptionally well suited to the particular logistics of our world. As I'm sure you know, the European wizarding world exists in pockets of magical dimensions. Owls have an uncanny sensitivity to the little seams between pockets. They can see, or at least perceive, the thin seams and the small portals that link one pocket to another. Once they find a portal, they can thread through it."

"So this means they can travel across countries in a short time?"

"Yes, exactly. A strong owl can travel from wizarding Britain to wizarding Italy in about three to four hours."

"Fascinating", Hermione whispered, making mental note to learn more about owls and magical pockets.

They could smell hay as they approached the shop. A carved sign overhead read : Eeylops Owl Emporium — Owls for All Occasions.

Inside, the shop was a chorus of rustling wings and soft hoots. Rows of spacious cages filled the room from floor to ceiling, each holding an owl of a different size and colour. Snowy whites, ear-tufted browns, speckled greys. All watching with impossibly intelligent eyes.

A shop employee, a middle ages woman, approached, “First-time buyers, are we?”

“Yes,” said Andrea. “Miss Granger’s to start at Hogwarts this term.”

“Ah, splendid!” she gestured around proudly. “Every one of these beauties is trained and registered with the Ministry."

Hermione’s brow furrowed. “They’re well looked after?”

“Of course, child" the woman said, "We keep them in comfort. Each has a perch, fresh water, nutritious food and daily flight time. Come, see if one of them bonds with you."

Hermione stepped forward, her heart pounding with wonder. Owls blinked at her from the shadows, some curious, some aloof. A small brown one clicked its beak, a white barn owl fluffed its feathers as if posing. But it was a Great Grey Owl in a steel cage that caught her attention.

He sat tall and still, eyes like polished amber. When Hermione approached, he flapped his wings once, then leaned forward, studying her face.

She extended a trembling hand toward the bars. The owl bent closer and touched her finger with his beak, a gentle nibble more affectionate than threatening. For a heartbeat, something invisible hummed between them. A recognition.

Hermione smiled, eyes bright. “Hello,” she whispered. “You’re magnificent.”

The owl blinked once, then gave a deep, approving hoot.

“I think he’s chosen you,” said the shopkeeper softly. “Great Grey, he is. Thirty two inches tall. Highly intelligent, independent.”

Hermione turned to her parents. “Can I have him?”

Rose’s expression softened. “Of course, love.”

The shopkeeper nodded. “Then he’s yours. What name shall we put on the registry?”

Hermione thought for a moment. “Odysseus,” she said at last.

The woman smiled. “A fine name for a fine specimen.” He tapped a ledger with his quill. “Registered to Hermione Granger, Hogwarts student, effective immediately. He’ll be delivered to the school Owlery before term begins. You shall see him there.”

Hermione reached out once more to stroke Odysseus through the bars. He nuzzled her fingers, eyes half-closed in contentment.

Hugo laughed. "You've made a new friend, sweetheart."

Hermione nodded. “I think so.”

By late afternoon, Diagon Alley glowed with the gold of a descending sun. Long shadows stretched across cobblestones as shopkeepers began to light floating lamps along the eaves.

Hermione’s arms were already aching beneath the weight of her purchases - her uniform, cauldrons, telescope and brass scales. It was, ultimately, the books that defeated her.

They had spent well over an hour in Flourish and Blotts. Rows upon rows of volumes towered like miniature fortresses — spellbooks, histories, guides to potions and beasts, and thick compendiums of magical law.

Hermione, in a state of ecstatic focus, had filled her basket faster than her mother could intervene.

“Darling, you don’t need all of them,” Rose had murmured.

“But I do,” Hermione had replied earnestly. “These are the first-year textbooks, and these are the recommended second-year ones. And this one....look, ‘Dimensional Mechanics : An Introduction to Fold Theory.’ Professor McGonagall mentioned that the Folds operate on spatial magic. And this one’s about owls and their special abilities...."

Hugo and Rose exchanged a helpless, proud smile. The bookseller had to summon an assistant to help carry everything to the counter.

Now, as they made their way toward the front of the shop, Hermione was hugging an unstable tower of books.

Rose was still paying at the counter when it happened.

Hermione stepped around a corner, and collided squarely with someone coming the other way.

Hardcovers hit the floor in a rain of parchment and startled exclamations.

“Oi!” said a boy’s voice. “Watch where you’re...."

Hermione’s temper, already frayed by excitement and fatigue, snapped. “Me? Can’t you see where you’re going?”

The boy she’d crashed into was tallish, red-haired and freckled. He scowled at her, “You walked right into me!”

“I was carrying books!” Hermione shot back indignantly, kneeling to gather them.

Before it could escalate, a woman’s voice rang out sharply: “Ronald Weasley! Mind your manners!”

A plump, warm-faced woman hurried forward, cuffing the boy lightly on the shoulder. “Help her pick those up this instant!”

“Yes, Mum,” the boy muttered, cheeks reddening as he bent to retrieve a fallen copy of Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2.

Another boy, dark-haired, green-eyed and bespectacled, a lightning scar faintly visible beneath messy hair, crouched beside them without hesitation. “Here, let me help.”

Hermione looked up, and froze. She recognised him instantly.

“You're....you’re Harry Potter,” she said, voice slipping into awe before she could stop it.

Harry looked startled. “Er—yes..."

“I've read about you,” she blurted. “In Modern Magical History."

Ron groaned. “Blimey, you’ve read that? You’re as bad as Percy.”

Harry laughed awkwardly, handing her her second year transformations textbook. “I guess you’re starting Hogwarts too, then?”

Hermione straightened, brushing dust from her skirt. “Yes. Hermione Granger.” She offered her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

He shook it, smiling. “Harry Potter. And this is Ron Weasley.”

Ron gave a half-hearted wave, muttering, “Hi,” though his ears were pink.

Before anyone could say more, a familiar voice called from across the shop: “Oh is it you?"

Arthur Weasley approached, smiling broadly, “Miss Granger! I see you’ve met my son and young Harry.”

Rose and Hugo joined them, and Arthur’s expression brightened further. “Dr. and Dr. Granger, allow me to introduce my lovely wife, Molly.”

Molly was still mildly annoyed with Ron, but she softened instantly at meeting the Grangers. “A pleasure to meet you both. You are muggles, yes?"

Rose smiled, “Yes, Mrs. Weasley. Just this afternoon, we signed the Comtract of Secrecy at your husband's office."

“Their Hermione is quite the scholar,” Arthur told Molly. “She has already finished Muggle university."

“My word!" Molly said, surprised, “well I suppose that explains all these.” She eyed the towering pile of books in Hermione’s arms. “Good heavens, dear. Are you planning to start your own library?”

Hermione blinked. “I like to read ahead.”

Rose chuckled. “That’s an understatement.”

“First years usually buy six or seven books,” Molly said, still smiling. “How many have you got there?”

Hermione counted rapidly. “Seventeen… or maybe nineteen, if you include the supplementary ones.”

Molly raised an eyebrow, impressed despite herself. “And all for pleasure?”

“Oh, no,” said Hermione, missing the tone entirely. “These are just essentials. I got Magical Drafts and Potions, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, and The Standard Book of Spells Grades One and Two. And then I found A Compendium of Fold Theory and Dimensional Mechanics. It’s fascinating, really.”

Rose smiled at them, clearly pleased. “She’s always been… thorough.”

Harry, meanwhile, was watching Hermione with a mixture of amusement and admiration. “You must really like studying.”

“I do,” Hermione said simply. Then, with a faint flush: “It’s the only way to understand things properly.”

Ron, crouched beside her with a few stray books still in his hands, muttered under his breath, “Or to sound like a know-it-all.”

“Ronald!” Molly said sharply. “Mind your tongue.”

Ron flushed. “Sorry,” he grumbled, before looking away.

Arthur stepped in smoothly. “Well! Since we’ve all found each other, why don’t we take a break? The Leaky Cauldron’s just through the archway. A butterbeer or two would do us all some good.”

Rose sighed with relief. “Oh...that sounds lovely.”

Andrea Bones was standing at a distance, watching the exchange.

Arthur noticed her and said, "Ms Bones, you are relieved for the day. I will take the Grangers through the fold."

"Right then," said Andrea, "I'll be on my way.

"Safe travels, Miss Granger,” Andrea added warmly, extending her hand. “It’s been a pleasure escorting you.”

Hermione shook it sincerely. “Thank you for everything.”

Andrea smiled and said goodbye to Hugo and Rose, then disappeared into the evening crowd, her blue robes trailing light.

The Leaky Cauldron was warm and bustling, lamplight flickering off old brass fixtures. The scent of roasted meat and cinnamon drifted from the kitchen. Arthur led them to a large wooden table near the entrance. He called to the barmaid. “Tea for all of us, please."

As they all settled, a comfortable stream of small talk began. Most of it was dominated by Arthur asking all sorts of questions about Muggle technologies. Molly kept giving Rose apologetic looks, but neither of Hermione’s parents seemed to mind Arthur’s almost child-like enthusiasm.

As the conversation went on, the two couples came to be on a first name basis with each other. Arthur and Molly listened attentively as Rose and Hugo explained dentistry. Rose and Hugo were all ears as Arthur and Molly talked about what a typical academic year at Hogwarts would be like.

Harry and Ron sat across from Hermione, mugs steaming in front of them.

“So,” Harry said, curiosity shining through the weariness, “you’re leaving your Muggle school to come to Hogwarts, are you?"

Hermione laughed softly. “Not quite. I already finished my schooling. And just last year, I earned two bachelor’s degrees from Cambridge — one in Physics and one in Mathematics.”

Harry blinked, flabbergasted. “You what? Two degrees? From Cambridge?That’s… incredible.”

Ron looked between them, frowning. “What’s a Cambridge?”

Hermione replied primly, “It’s a very prestigious university."

"It's one of the best in the Muggle world, Ron", Harry said to him.

“Oh,” Ron said flatly. “Right."

Molly laughed warmly. “You sound like my Bill when he was at Hogwarts. Always had his nose in a book.”

Hermione smiled, genuinely pleased. “He must be very clever then.”

“He's training to be a curse-breaker now,” Arthur added proudly. “So yes, I'd say."

Hermione and Harry talked quietly. He asked about her trip to the Ministry, about the wandmaker. Hermione proudly showed him her wand. Harry told her he'd get his on the thirty-first of the month, when he turned thirteen. He asked how she could have possibly gotten into Cambridge at such a young age. Hermione told him about her academic journey in great detail. Harry listened, clearly in awe.

Ron listened for a while, then slouched in his chair, muttering to himself, "Show-off!"

It was dusk by the time Arthur Weasley escorted the Grangers through the Dimensional Fold and back into the Muggle world.

Rose asked Hermione to go wait in the car.

When she was settled in the back seat, already with one of her new books in her lap, Hugo turned to Arthur with a sombre look in his eyes.

"Arthur, you're a father. I'm sure you understand what state of mind Rose and I are in right now. We are sending our daughter to an alien world where we won't be able to reach her, should she need us."

"We've read a bit about your world's recent history, Arthur", said Rose, her face as serious as her husband's, “We’re aware that not so long ago, there was a war — one fought against the rule of a wizard who considered Muggle-borns, witches, and wizards like our daughter to be unworthy of magic. We know about the cruelties, the atrocities that took place during that time. We understand, too, that the death of a despot does not erase the ideology that enabled his rise.”

Rose was momentarily overcome with emotion. She blinked away the tears that had begun to form. Hugo wrapped an arm around her. She continued, firm as ever.

"Please Arthur, tell us honestly, will our Hermione be safe? Will she be respected as an equal by her peers? Can you ease our hearts and tell us, with certainty, that the days of Muggle-born persecution are long gone?"

Arthur’s eyes were full of compassion as he took Rose’s hand into his own.

"That war you've read about Rose, I fought in it. As did my wife and her family. We were willing to lay down our lives to ensure that the Dark Lord's tyranny would be overthrown. That is how strongly we believe in the right of someone like your daughter to practice magic without fear."

Rose and Hugo listened silently, looking at Arthur Weasley with a desperate hope.

He continued.

"It was right after the first Wizarding War that the Ministry decided that ig needed to do more to protect Muggle-borns. And the Department of Protection of Muggle-borns was created. I used to be an Auror before then. But as soon as our department came into being, I knew what I needed to do. Running that department isn't just a job to me, but part of my sacred duty to the Wizarding world."

Arthur took a look at the Range Rover, in which Hermione was no longer reading, but was looking at the adults with a mild curiosity.

"But I won't lie to you", Arthur went on, "Your daughter will be subjected to some amount of prejudice and bullying during her time at Hogwarts."

"How bad will it be?", Hugo asked, stone faced.

"They won't be violent towards her, I hope." Rose asked nervously.

Drawing in a breath, Arthur replied, "As you just said Rose, the fall of a despot doesn't end his ideology. Mindsets can take generations to change. Unfortunately, there are still those in our world who share the Dark Lord's beliefs, and they've passed on their narrow-mindedness to their children. But Hugo, Rose you have my word, I will make sure your Hermione stays safe. As will the professors at Hogwarts. The Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, acted as the leader of our resistance. He personally ensures the safety of all Muggle-born students. Your daughter will be in good hands. You needn't worry."

"Thank you.... thank you Arthur", Rose finally released the breath she'd been holding.

"You seem to take your duties very seriously, Arthur", said Hugo, his voice deep, his tone grave, "we believe you when you say our daughter will be safe."

"But you'll forgive us for worrying nonetheless", Rose said, now with a sad smile, "and for pestering you from time to time for news of her."

Arthur chuckled good-naturedly.

"You're parents, how could you not worry? As for your pestering, it would be expected and welcome. Just send me an owl, I'll answer any and every query you may have."

Seeing that the Grangers were now somewhat at ease, Arthur decided he could take his leave.

"I'd best be off now. Molly expects me at the table before she serves dinner.", he said with a laugh.

"Oh of course!", Rose said smiling, "We're sorry to have kept you."

Arthur shook his head as if to say it wasn't a problem.

He and Hugo shook hands as the latter thanked him again. Arthur looked towards the car and waved at Hermione, who smiled politely and waved back.

And with that Arthur Weasley stepped into the Fold, leaving the Grangers with the warmth of his assurances.