Christian!Hermione AU from Pre-Hogwarts On.

Chapter 1

Hermione grew up in central London, a daughter of two Christian dentists who lived in the home of a late grandmother and ran their private clinic just under ten miles away. She'd grown up as an only child and so was afforded many luxuries like a private education and yearly vacations.

Her free time were taken up by two things; reading and Church. Every Sunday they would go to church for a minimum or three hours, and every other Wednesday was an activity with the other young kids in her Primary class at church. She enjoyed singing at the church, but making friends there was difficult. Not because of the religion itself, and not because it was Central London kids in a confined space, but because, well, she got BORED.

Instructions were repeated three or four times before the kids even began to follow them. Even making paper snowflakes could become a chore with the other kids. She tended to dread activities instead of looking forward to them. The only reason she went was because her parents let her bring her books.

Primary probably isn't a familiar concept, so it'll need to be described. Primary was a children's class that all the kids under twelve attended at her local LDS Church. And it was boring. She liked sitting in the pews and listening to people giving interesting talks and bearing their testimonies. She liked the adults talking like adults.

In Primary, everything was just so … simple. The most challenging part was singing or when she was called on to give the prayer in class. Things she was in charge of. Anything else was done with repeats for the other kids, or slowly so everyone could keep up. She tried to be good, but she couldn't help but open her books at every opportunity.

There were days, though, that confused her and got her to pay attention. She was, after all, only eight.

". . . so, remember, it's never okay to fight someone."

Her hand was thrust into the air. "Yes, Hermione?"

"But people fight all the time. What about war?"

Her primary teacher gave her an exasperated smile. "There are exceptions, yes. The scriptures tell us that the sins of those under orders, like in war, will fall on their commanders. Like the Prime Minister, or the Generals. That doesn't excuse bad behavior though. People are responsible for behaving the best in the situations they're in, even if that situation is war.

"But," she raised her finger to stop Hermione from calling out her response, "in our personal lives, there is always a non-violent option, and we should always strive to use it. Too many times we fight because we're angry, and anger like that is not okay."

At the end of church, she was still confused. Her parents piled them in their little care and started the twenty-minute drive home, and she decided to ask.

"Mom, is it okay to get angry?" Hermione asked, making her parents look back at her. "Some people deserve it, don't they?"

They were both silent for a moment, showing Hermione they took her seriously. That always made her happy with her parents – all the other teachers took her questions as if they weren't serious, and answered too simply. Her parents knew she needed more.

"There's a problem there in your thought, sweetheart," her dad said finally. "You say they deserve it. Do they get your anger? Or do they get the consequences your anger decides to act out?"

Hermione thought about that for a second. "I guess the consekenses."

"See? Feeling angry shouldn't ruin our own self-control and it shouldn't make those consequences," her dad continued, "but that's what happens. Do I make sense so far?"

Hermione nodded furiously.

"Okay, so the next part; if the emotions aren't really for others, but instead are shared with them, that means they're there for us," Dan Granger continued, laying out the logic. "So, is there anything we can learn from anger? And what about other negative emotions, like sadness?"

Hermione thought about this for a little bit of time, but she'd been thinking about it since the lesson. She'd jumped to her own conclusions fairly quickly. "I know sadness tells me when things are wrong with me."

"Good," her father nodded. "Now, say you were angry because someone was mean to you. What have we told you about bullies, Hermione?"

She gave her dad a spirit-filled smile. "They might not know they're wrong, or they might be hurting me because they have pain and don't want to be alone."

Dan smiled at his daughter. "Exactly. So are we going to get mad at the person, or their circumstances? Are we angry at the choice itself, or the person who makes the choice?"

"The choice," Hermione said firmly, knowing it was the right answer. "So, when we get angry, it's so we know it's bad. Then we can make things better for everyone. Right?"

"I think so," her mother said with a soft smile at her husband. "We don't always do it perfectly, but I think that getting angry is our way of recognizing injustice and getting ready to fight against it. Like when people protest, right? They are angry, but they're motivated by it to try to make changes."

"We shouldn't be condemning people with our anger, though," her dad interjected. "People can make mistakes or even intentionally hurt people, but we don't believe they can't be redeemed."

"So that's why we teach forgiveness?" Hermione said with a scrunched brow. "Because even if it's the choice they made that was wrong, they're still people."

"Exactly," her mom beamed through the rearview mirror.

Her dad nodded. "You're right, sweetheart. People are inherently good, and I believe that. But they can learn the wrong things or make the wrong choices. Sometimes they live a life filled with pain that they never learned how to deal with without hurting other people. It doesn't change that they're all children of God, princes and princesses who, under everything, have feelings too. Even we make wrong choices, Hermione. Your mother and I aren't perfect, and we might not always have the right answer. But we have to be compassionate, and have charity. Almost everything can be solved when we're willing to approach people with an open heart."

"So I can still get angry, as long as I'm not mean to people?" Hermione asked, bringing it to its conclusion.

Her parents laughed.

Hermione learned from a young age that if she wanted a challenge, no other adults would give it to her but her parents.

Primary was one example, but the other half of the equation was her school. Elementary school was just that – elementary. Why did they ask her to count as high as she could as a test if they were going to stop her when she got past one hundred? Kindergarten – useless. Why did the whole class need to learn how to write together, when she'd already learnt at home? Grades 1-3 – redundant. Why did they spend a whole month on division and multiplication when she could do it within the week? Grade 4 – utterly annoying.

Her parents weren't a whole lot of help with the school. They tried to give her fun activities at home, but they just wanted her to go outside or do the boring homework she was given. So she read instead. When the teachers spoke about different books she'd never read, she went to the library and read them. When they challenged her to read the scriptures cover-to-cover in church, she started it right away and didn't put them down for a month. Then re-read them so she could understand the narrative and not just the individual verses. When her teachers or parents talked about future careers, she researched them and tried to find one she was interested in and then proceeded to plan each years and the degrees she'd need to do those jobs. When they spoke about foreign countries, she read up on each one.

Her first bout of accidental magic wasn't angry or scared or even happy like many children – she was bored and in a fourth-grade class (She'd skipped second grade and started early. She had been the youngest in her year, so she was eight while the rest of her peers were nine or ten-year-olds). She liked singing songs and she liked Madison a little (a girl who had been in daycare with her; she guessed they were friends but never asked), but when the teacher tried to teach them to stories, she had zoned out and looked around the room for something to keep her occupied. The bookshelf was all the way across the room, and it would have been rude to get up and walk away while the teacher was talking.

She wished she had a book, to the point of frustration. Her parents hadn't let her bring her library books today, telling her she needed to be paying attention in class. Her frustration grew.

It was like something broke, like she'd lost her temper except she hadn't, and something had reached from her. It felt like the spirit, only … stronger. She had wished for a book and had it flown to her. Like a force was acting with her heart in mind. The kids were surprised, as was Hermione, but the teacher shrieked in horror. Hermione didn't understand why the teacher was so afraid and angry with her, why she was yelling. She tried to ask if Mrs. Sabine was alright, if she did something wrong, but then a pair of people sort of … appeared.

They seemed genuinely disconcerted to see all of the many kids in the classroom, and they looked at each other with a worried expression.

"What are you doing in my classroom?" Mrs. Sabine demanded, momentarily distracted from Hermione. "What is happening today?!"

"Ummm, hello?" One man said nervously. "Er, which one of these kids did magic?"

Multiple kindergarteners pointed to Hermione, who was busy wondering how the day turned out so very not boring. Magic? Like, miracles?

"Can you come over here, sweetheart?" The other guy said kindly. "We're going to take you home."

Hermione got up to move to the men, trusting, but Mrs. Sabine wasn't too happy.

"Excuse me, but you're not her parents," she objected. "You can't just take one of my students!"

The one man reached forward and pulled Hermione forward and past her classmates. The other lifted what seemed like a stick and sent out a series of bright flashes that landed all the class on the ground. Hermione finally felt slightly worried.

"Sir, can you let me go?" asked Hermione, as the man was still hanging on to her arm. He flushed but did so. Hermione then stared at her classmates and frowned. "Are they going to be okay?"

"Just fine, we promise," the second man reassured her. "They needed sleep, because they're getting used to not remembering. See, when they wake up they won't remember that we were here, or that you used magic."

"Why won't they remember?"

The man flicked his wand in his hand. "Magic, little Miss. Magic."

"Are you angels?" Hermione asked, curiously.

They shared a look. "Erm, no, just wizards."

The men asked her where she lived and took her there, even though her parents weren't home. She was a little uncomfortable, so she called her parents at work and told them some strange men wanted to talk to them about something that happened at school, and that she was home with them. Unsurprisingly, both parents rushed back to their London home and immediately came to their daughter's side.

They explained everything they could to her parents and her and seemed very concerned about repeats in this accident.

"The important thing is to teach her to control her emotions," they told her parents. "Now that it's happened once, it'll be easier for her to lose control and use magic. Now, generally, these things happen when children are scared or angry-"

"I wasn't," Hermione protested with a childish glare at the two men. Her parents gave her a skeptical look, and she huffed. "I wasn't angry. I don't get 'angry'. I was bored. Mrs. Supine was making us repeat things from yesterday. We learnt it yesterday; I don't need to do it again."

"She's your teacher, love, you shouldn't criticize."

"She's slow," Hermione huffed. "I want to go faster."

The men seemed to consider this. "Well, that's a new one. Don't really know what to do about that."

"You don't?" Mum worried. "But she can control it, right? Is it just magic? She can control it with spells and meditation, right, and she won't curse anyone?"

"She probably won't, and if she does we'll come back and reverse it," the second man reassured her. "I don't know about this meditation business, but kids can't control their magic really well. The magic's something they're not really used to yet, and they need to grow into it and practice it more when they're older in order to really get the hang of it. Most kids won't really control it until they start using wands, but if they put their minds to it proper they can do without. She can control it like a proper little witch."

She was a witch. She was a witch.

What did that mean?

Hermione bombarded the men with question after question, not satisfied to leave anything to guesswork. How did they know she'd used magic? A thing called the Trace that was etched in the anchor stone around the country, that registered whenever underage witches or wizards used magic on or around muggles. Was the stick a wand? Yes, but she couldn't get one until she was eleven. Why eleven? That's when she could go to Hogwarts and learn how to use magic safely. Hogwarts?

"So, it's a boarding school for magical children?" her mother clarified. "And it only starts at age eleven?"

"Yes, ma'am," One said.

"And they can't get their wands until they enroll in the school?" Dad interjected now, looking a little gruffer.

"No, sir."

The parents looked at each other somberly. "And this is mandatory for Hermione?"

"We can't have magicals wandering around without training," the man nodded. "You could choose not to let her, but then she would be forbidden from using magic. If she ever did, and it wasn't an accident, she could be locked up. If she were underage at the time, she could be removed from the Muggle world and made a ward of the Ministry."

At that, Hermione shuffled into her mother's side. "Mom, I do want to learn magic."

Her mother looked down at her daughter's sharp eyes. They showed how overwhelmed their daughter was with all that she'd been told, how close she as to losing it, but they also reminded her of the reason the men were here in the first place; Hermione was special. They'd always known that, always seen those small things that didn't make sense. They assumed they would understand it one day, but now … Mrs. Granger sighed, but nodded at her daughter.

"There'll be a lot to talk about for the next few years," she told her daughter. "But we can consider it."

"If she went, could she still attend church?" Dan asked their guests. The men shared surprised glances. "The existence of magic does not contradict our beliefs or what we've tried to teach our daughter. We're members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and one part of our beliefs is regularly partaking of the sacrament and taking Sundays for a day of rest. Would she be able to live those commandments in this boarding school?"

"Erm, uh, well, Sundays there are no classes," the one man put together for them. The parents relaxed a little. "We're not from the school, though, ma'am, and we don't know if they'd let her. First years aren't allowed to leave the school, usually. Not if there aren't any emergencies."

Dan and Emma looked at each other. "You appeared in my daughter's class nearly the moment she did magic, and you're saying she has no chance of getting to a church on a Sunday morning? Do none of the other students have beliefs, a religion?"

"There are a few, but they usually practice in the school," the man said, not really understanding. "Or they practice over the hols."

"Our religion is not something we can simply put on hold for the school year because it's more convenient," Emma said, not aggressively but quite forcefully. "Since you are not representatives of this boarding school, will we be able to meet with someone from there who can definitely tell us one way or another on this?"

"When your daughter turns eleven, the Deputy Headmaster or Headmistress brings the muggleborn letters to new students," Two explained. "If you want to wait until its closer to her enrollment, then that's an option."

The parents sighed. "I suppose that'd be fine."

The men had to leave at the end of the evening, shaking everyone's hands and letting them know how to get in contact if they needed anything. Hermione didn't want them to go.

"But I wanna know more!" Hermione cried. "Please don't go!"

The men hesitated, and her parents looked aghast at her whining.

"Hermione, these men have their own families," her mother said kindly. "You don't want to keep them away from them, do you?"

Hermione huffed. "No."

"Then say thank you to the nice men and wish them goodnight," her mother instructed.

Hermione turned to the men despondently. "Thank you, sirs. Goodnight."

The men looked reluctant to leave and looked at each other hesitantly. The first man, whose name she couldn't remember, gave his partner a little sheepish smile and then turned to Hermione.

"Now, don' be sad, little one," One knelt right next to her. "I tell you what, I have something for you."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny book, which she stared at as it grew large in his hand. It was a pretty book, a leather and gold lettering.

"I only just got this job," One told her with a blush. "I still don't remember all the spells all the time, so I carry this book around with me. But I think you'll appreciate it even more that I do, am I right?"

Hermione nodded vigorously, making him smile.

"Now, I want you to take care of this, yeah?" he told her. "Many of the spells in here will be too advanced for you for many, many years, and without a wand you'll have to work extra hard to get them, so don't be upset, okay? It's something to keep you from getting too bored. Now, the most important thing is I don't want you to try any of these spells around muggles, and don't show anyone this book, alright? We have to keep magic a secret, understand?"

"You're an idiot, Gamp," the second man said with an exasperated look. "She's just a kid, she can't do wandless magic!"

"Don't listen to him, little Miss," the first guy winked at her, making her giggle. "Not everyone can do it, but I think you can. You'll just need to practice really hard, okay? Can I suggest the first spell to try?"

She nodded emphatically and offered the book. He opened it to the index and searched, coming up blank. "Hmmm, not in here. Do you have a quill-,er, biro?"

Her father pulled one from his pocket and the man thanked him. In the front of the book he wrote a spell, Wingardium Leviosa.

"This is a levitation spell," he showed her how to pronounce it, and showed her a demonstration on the biro. A swish and flick. Exact pronunciation. The pen levitated as if attached by a glass rod to the tip of his wand. "It's one of the first charms you learn in Hogwarts. Try it with something really light first. It might take time, and you might not believe you can work your magic, but you have to try, huh? And don't worry, the Ministry only deals with underage wand-magic and accidental magic. If this is intentionally done, and without a wand, you won't get in any trouble. Okay?"

Hermione flung herself at the man and trapped him in her tiny hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, I love you!"

The man blushed. "Affectionate kid, huh?"

"She loves books," her mother said matter-of-factly. "And she's a hugger. You never stood a chance."

The adults all laughed.