A Young Girl's Academic Record (YS/HP) (Patreon)

AN: This month's commission from Jesus.

ooOoo

"Then if you were a woman, born a hated minority in a magical world that defies logical analysis, then you would have faith?"

"Wait-"

ooOoo

For years, I had believed that Being X had simply screwed up. He'd struck me as a rather slapdash worker, the sort who blames the customer for his own mistakes, so it seemed the most likely explanation.

I had found myself reborn in the past, as a girl, just as he'd said, but as I grew up and learned about the world around me there was a conspicuous lack of magic. For that matter, I wasn't any sort of minority. The Grangers were a perfectly average English couple. Certainly, dentists only made up a small part of the population and weren't well liked, but my parents' profession wouldn't have anything to do with my own lot in life.

I had worried for a time that my family might be members of some sort of cult, considering the odd name they had saddled me with. As soon as I was old enough to ask about it, though, I learned that they had picked out "Hermione" from a work of Shakespeare. Perfectly normal, even if it was rather obscure. I also learned that our family was part of the perfectly mainstream Church of England, attending church the perfectly ordinary amount of four times per year. I disliked getting involved even tangentially with worship of the idiot who had stuck me in this new body, but I could silently follow along with my family for the sake of fitting in.

Well, even if Being X had screwed up, it didn't much matter. I wasn't going to write him a letter of complaint. Instead, I set about proving my worth in my second chance at life. Maintaining grades at the top of the class was easy, of course. Pretending to be interested in the inane prattle of my so-called peers, less so. I found that I had to retreat to books in order to find a semblance of stimulating conversation.

My parents interpreted my subtle enquiries into the existence of magic as an interest in fantasy novels, unfortunately. At least I never lacked anything new to read. Reading in my usual areas of interest would have been a problem, seeing as I would have already read anything that was going to come out for the next few decades. My usual guilty pleasure of choice would have been light novels, but those were completely out of reach. Totally aside from the parental barrier, London in the 1980s was not exactly awash in Japanese culture.

I suppose I could have offered my parents some stock tips, but there was no real point to it. Adding more money to our household wouldn't have done anything to improve my childhood. To the contrary, in order to fulfill my role as a normal girl with great potential for the future, avoiding anything strange such as improbable financial insight was more important. In that way I could proceed to further success in school and a safe, profitable career.

To be honest, I'd almost forgotten about Being X until I woke up to find an owl pecking at my window.

I was just as ready to accept the existence of magic as any other eleven year old, my lifetime of rational thinking offset by the decidedly non-scientific fact of my own reincarnation. I worried a little that I might become the target of a literal witch hunt, as wizards must be a tiny minority of the population, but my fears were allayed by the sheer nonchalance of the missive. My fellow magic users would know better than me if I were in danger due to my identity, and the letter didn't even hint at such a thing.

My parents were properly skeptical towards the letter, but they were willing to indulge me, at least a little bit. So we were all waiting at home when Professor McGonagall visited to explain what was going on, just as the letter had said she would. And we all went together to Diagon Alley to meet with the other new students and pick up supplies.

The trip was a real eye-opener. Professor McGonagall had done her best to explain to us just what we were getting into, but laying my own eyes on a magical shopping district hidden in the heart of London drove home the fact that this wasn't some rag-tag group with superpowers like I might have seen in my old manga. This was a whole new world. They didn't just have magical powers. They had an established culture. Their own habits and customs. Their own economy. Their own prejudices.

I focused on gathering as much information as I could, of course. It wasn't until the end of the trip, though, that I finally figured out Being X's game. That was when the professor told us that Hogwarts saw roughly forty new students per year. Our little group of eight were only the muggleborns, those born to parents without magic. I had finally identified a minority identity that just might get me persecuted.

Obviously, I would have to do more research in order to determine just how screwed I was. I started digging through my trunk for the right book as soon as my parents brought it inside. I felt fortunate that they'd agreed to purchase more reference material than the bare minimum that the school had required. I had just found my copy of Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century when my mother cleared her throat behind me.

"Yes?" I asked, looking back over my shoulder.

"I want you to know, even with all this magical business," she said, "if you want the materials so you can study for your A-levels, we'll support you."

I blinked, confused. "Why would I want that?"

"Didn't you have your heart set on going to university?" my father asked.

Before I knew about the existence of magic, I had aimed to replicate my previous successful career in human resources. The first step along that path was to graduate from a prestigious university. I had long since mentioned that ambition to my parents, though they seemed to have concluded that I saw the university as a goal in and of itself, rather than as a means to an end. 

Naturally, now that I had gotten a look at the wizarding world, I was no longer content to limit my ambitions to a corner office. Seeing that Being X had followed through on his threat, there was no way that a safe and comfortable life would be so easy to achieve. To prove him wrong, I would have to climb an entirely new social ladder to a place of peace and prosperity.

"Did you glance down Knockturn Alley when we walked by?" I asked.

My parents looked at each other for a moment before my father replied. "It looked a bit dodgy."

It seemed that they had been too focused on my schooling to think deeply about what they had seen. A commendable attitude for parents to take, but they could have easily gotten themselves into trouble. They were lucky that they had me around to explain what was really going on.

"Did it seem odd to you that prime real estate in the heart of London would be used for shady pawn shops and the like?" I asked.

"I suppose," father replied, shrugging.

The only reason for such incredibly valuable real estate to be used for such worthless purposes would be if that real estate weren't so valuable after all. Not in magical eyes. Of course, their disdain for muggle real estate value was only the tip of the iceberg.

"And did you see the campaign posters?" I asked. "There's an election on for the Minister of Magic. Wizards have their own government."

"Yes, yes," father said. "Where are you going with this?"

"Two governments can't both rule over the same country," I said. "So who's in charge, the Prime Minister or the Minister of Magic?"

My parents both looked uncomfortable. They were starting to understand.

"Surely, if it's a question of majority rule-" my mother began, before I interrupted.

"Majority? What does that matter when the other side can erase memories and control minds?"

I'd had the chance to pepper Professor McGonagall with questions as we'd made our school purchases. She'd tried to sugar coat her answers for our benefit, but there was only one way to interpret the existence of a group like the Obliviators. If they were willing to erase the memories of anybody guilty of unauthorized viewing of magic, what would they do to someone in the government who tried to exercise real power in a way the wizards didn't like? I was surprised I was the only one who'd drawn the obvious conclusion.

True, the wizards didn't exercise overt control over muggle society, but why would they? With the tools available to the Minister of Magic, it would be child's play to control the government in secret. Especially for the sort of fearsome mind that would rise to the top in the battle for power over a group of magicians.

"Hermione-" my father began, but I was on a roll.

"We just discovered a small group of wizards rule the world, and you think I care about A-levels?" I said. "Why would I waste my time at university? None of that muggle nonsense matters any more!"

As it turned out, being a witch didn't shield me from being grounded. One week without my wand so I would learn to appreciate the so-called "real world." My parents did unbend enough to let me read my new school books, so the time wasn't totally wasted.

Honestly, they were surprisingly daring for a couple of dentists. After all, if I tired of their parental authority I could make them forget they ever had a kid. It was simply a matter of flipping through the books and finding the right spell. For that matter, I could twist their minds to the point that they'd move off to a different continent. 

Not that I would. Unlike Being X, I respected free will and personal autonomy. 

Still, it would be difficult to integrate myself into the wizarding world if my parents continued to stand against me. I'd just have to wear them down with the power of sweet reason and my charming personality.

ooOoo

My parents proved surprisingly resistant to both reason and charm. They stopped arguing with me, but not because they'd been persuaded. Instead they simply humored me while allowing my words to go in one ear and out the other. It was like they thought I was a little girl who was overreacting to her first exposure to something outside of the norm.

The whole situation made for a very frustrating car ride to King's Cross Station. I tried not to let their condescension get me down. After a full year of immersion in the magical world, they should be more prepared to listen to what I had to say. I didn't think Being X would stoop so low as to put me in deadly danger in my first year at wizard school, so I could afford to be patient.

I still would have been wound pretty tightly if all I'd been relying on was Being X's sense of fair play. Fortunately, once I'd had the chance to read the extra history books that I'd purchased, I'd found that the situation wasn't as dire as I had feared. It seemed muggleborn students weren't under any sort of active persecution, though it wasn't quite a settled issue. 

There had been a vicious magical civil war that ended shortly after I was born. The side that favored violence and terror against muggleborns had been on the verge of victory until their leader had gotten himself killed by a one year old boy.

It was a little disconcerting that my own civil rights had only been protected thanks to that one boy's magical puissance, but it wasn't all bad. At eleven, Harry Potter should be even more of a murder machine than he had been at one. As long as I could keep him pointed at my enemies, everything should work out fine.

ooOoo