Hermione Granger was bored. She was also in a completely new village in an empty house with only her books to keep her company. Well, to say it was a house would have been excessive; it was more of a cottage, barely two storeys with the stairs leading up to a small landing with three rooms attached. One was a broom closet, while the others were Hermione's new room, tucked away from the rest of the house, and the other an en suite. Hermione had the sound of her own bathroom the moment it had been mentioned as it meant barely having to leave her room to use it. The cottage had been built a little way into a forest by the side of Baxton, the village she now lived in, leaving her a little cut off from society but she didn't mind. In fact, she preferred it that way. In her almost fifteen years of life, Hermione had never been a highly social girl, usually finding solace in her books and studies. This behaviour increased dramatically over the last couple of years as the few friends she had seemed to turn on her; boys were suddenly more interested in her but became very hostile and bitter when she refused their advances and other girls, including her old friends, ignored her or belittled her for no reason that she could find. Hermione enjoyed being alone, but she quickly found out that being ostracised and ignored entirely was not all that thrilling. Hence, she created her own shell to hide in, filled with books and magic and faraway places, places where wonderful things happened, where she was accepted… where she could feel safe.

Her mother, Marie, was a writer by trade but was taking advantage of the local scenery to get some fresh air and inspiration. Ever since they had moved to Baxton a little over a week ago, Hermione felt like she had barely seen her mother. Marie had taught her how to cook for herself, do the laundry, keep the house tidy and all the other important aspects of life just in case she ever found herself in a situation where she was alone for a while, such as this. Hermione knew how to look after herself at home, but it was going out into the world that she worried about. She loved to go walking, exploring places, listening and watching the world go by, and while she loved to do this alone, she also felt very vulnerable when she did. Should anything happen to her while she was out, she wasn't sure if she'd be able to defend herself, and with no friends and an often-vacant mother, Hermione felt there was nobody she could rely on all the time to help her. That was not to say that Marie was a bad mother, on the contrary she was very loving and caring for Hermione. Her flaw was that she also loved her work and her priorities could sometimes focus on her career more than her daughter.

Hermione set down her book on the bed. She had been reading for the last few hours and her eyes were beginning to strain. Sighing heavily, she grabbed her coat from her desk chair and headed out, deciding that she couldn't avoid Baxton for the rest of her life so she might as well check it out now. It was a fifteen-minute walk from the cottage to the village and Hermione was already wishing she had stayed home by the time she reached it. But she was here now and there was no point in going back yet. Baxton was not exactly a popular village; there were a few takeaways, pubs and independent shops, a library (that Hermione felt she would be visiting more frequently than anywhere else), a small shopping centre and a chapel. The most noticeable building in the entire village, however, was the large manor that sat atop a hill nearby. The main building was surrounded by trees but Hermione found that the roof and spires could be seen from practically anywhere in Baxton. She wondered who could possibly live in such a well-to-do house while living in a tiny place like Baxton.

Soon it was gone midday and Hermione felt peckish. She was relieved to find out that the library had a café, so she found herself a particularly comfy armchair, a volume by an author she liked, a hot chocolate and a muffin and relaxed there for a while. It was mid-afternoon before Hermione dragged herself away from the library and began to make her way back home. As she approached the edge of the forest Hermione suddenly felt a twinge; a sudden curiosity for what the rest of the forest looked like. She figured that her cottage wouldn't be too hard to find her way back to, even if the forest was as large as it looked, so she ventured off the stone path that would have taken her home and headed away into the trees.

This is where Hermione felt most content. She could hear the birds singing in the branches above her, the leaves would sway in the wind and rustle together and she was sure she could hear a river nearby. The sound of nature at its peak was wonderful and she felt she could get truly lost in it. Hermione continued to walk, thinking about everything from where her life was going to how nice the muffin she had eaten was. Hermione often found herself lost in thoughts like this, especially in places she felt comfortable. She was so lost in her own thoughts in fact, that she didn't notice the birds stop singing and the sound of rushing water veer away from her. She didn't notice that she had walked back onto a stone path, but not one that lead to the cottage. Hermione only stopped and took in where she was when she reached a stone bridge with a sign screwed to the wall, revealing that this was Baxton Square. Hermione felt this was rather odd; surely the Square of a village should be at its centre? Hermione wasn't sure how she felt about going into Baxton Square. The trees were obviously missing, leaving a cloudy sky above the area, looking very dreary and deprived. Still, she had said she would explore Baxton and she guessed this still counted as part of the village, so she crossed the bridge.

Instantly Hermione felt uncomfortable. There were very few people around and those that weren't hiding in shadows didn't seem like people you wanted to interact with. Many were riddled with dirt, clothes were torn and patched up and some appeared to be missing lots of teeth. They would snarl and cackle and grin menacingly at Hermione as she passed them, praying her insecurities were not showing. As Hermione walked she thought that the shops in the Square were very unusual; one was an apothecary with strange ingredients in the window, another was selling brooms that looked very battered, but Hermione felt were not used for sweeping, and another seemed to be selling second-hand wands. Hermione assumed this was a costume shop of some kind and walked on. At the very end of one of the lanes she saw a sign of an open book with scrawls on it, which she assumed to be a book shop. Feeling that there was at least one normal shop in the Square, she entered.

The store was very dark, lit only by a few candles and a couple of small windows which let in very little light. A phonogram in the corner was playing an old song on a record that sounded like it could have been from the second world war which Hermione found very eerie. There was also nobody that she could see tending to the shop, there was nobody at the counter or even browsing the aisles. Hermione thought they must be checking stock in the back of the shop so she made her way through some of the aisles. Any thoughts she had that this was going to be a normal shop were lost only a few seconds later; the books on the shelves had titles involving how to look after dragons, the perfect ways to brew different potions, even curses and spells from centuries past. Hermione was starting to wonder what kind of Square this was when she thought she heard something shuffle nearby. She glanced around but there was nobody there.

"Hello?" she called out to the room but the only reply was the music from the phonogram. She returned her attention to the books, browsing their different titles. She was just reaching for a book named "Dark Lords and their Downfalls" when a hand with bony fingers grasped her wrist. Hermione gasped and turned to see a bald man about the same size as her with crooked teeth, dressed all in black, stood beside her, grinning.

"What you doing, pretty one?" he snarled, his breathing heavy and rough, "All alone in places like this, could land yourself in trouble."

"I- I was… I was, um-" Hermione stammered before the man cut her off.

"Lost for words, sweetheart? You dumb as well as lost, ay? I'll knock some sense into ye!" the man yelled and lifted his other fist. Hermione flinched, expecting the blow to come… but it never did. She heard the first swing and connect but it wasn't with her. She opened her eyes and saw that the man's arm had ben grabbed by another hand, this time belonging to a boy. He was facing away from Hermione so she couldn't tell any of his features except for his untidy black hair.

"You will do no such thing, Gregory," the boy said, his voice calm but the venom in his tone was clear. "I hope these aren't threats you make often, and especially not to Hogwarts students. Beating underage wizards isn't a pleasure of yours is it?"

"Of course not, Mr Potter, of course not," Gregory whispered as he released Hermione and slunk away, hunched over.

"That's good to hear. I expect your account reports tonight, Gregory."

"Yes, Mr Potter, of course…"

The boy named Potter turned to Hermione, his eyes stern but at the same time warm and kind behind his round glasses. Hermione thought she could see some kind of mark beneath his hair on his forehead but didn't want to stare.

"Come with me," he whispered. Hermione, having no wish to stay in this shop any longer, particularly not alone, followed the boy named Potter out of the shop and back into Baxton Square. He turned and lead her down several back alleys, pathways and nooks and crannies before coming to an alley with a dead end. Against one of the walls was a cast iron staircase leading up to a single green door, which they approached. Potter leaned in close and whispered something that Hermione couldn't hear, causing the door to open with a clunk and swing inwards.

"Please, come in," Potter gestured for Hermione to follow and she agreed. Suddenly she wondered why she was following this complete stranger. This boy had just saved her skin, admittedly, but he was still just that: a boy from the Square. Yet she felt she could trust him. He had influence over the man in the shop and seemed to know how to look after himself, meaning that, at least for now, he would probably be able to keep her safe too. She just needed to get home. And had she heard him correctly before? "Beating underage wizards," he had said, hadn't he?

"Take a seat, make yourself comfortable," Potter said as he entered the room behind Hermione and hung his jacket on the coat-hanger. He was wearing a black collar-shirt and matching jeans and shoes, looking as if he was about to go to a funeral. Hermione took a moment to observe the room as Potter walked over to a nearby desk with what looked like a cauldron on top of it, steaming away. The room was thin but long with bookcases lining one of the walls until it reached a door at the end. Against the far wall was a sofa with a coffee table and an armchair beside it and against the other longer wall were diagrams, blueprints and other documents pinned to a large noticeboard. Beside this was the desk that Potter was now stood in front of, removing different leaves and ingredients from one of the drawers (he seemed to be taking more out of one particular drawer than Hermione thought would fit in the entire furniture piece). Potter flicked his wrist and lights dotted around the room illuminated dimly, giving some warm lighting. Hermione assumed they had motion sensors in them. He glanced at Hermione and then gave a double-take when he realised she wasn't moving. "You're safe here, really. Please, sit."

Hermione, still feeling nervous, made her way over to the armchair as Potter added a maple leaf and what Hermione hoped wasn't an eye to the mixture he was brewing. She sat and instantly felt more comfortable being off her feet, despite it not being too long ago that she was sat reading in the library.

"Baxton Square is not a place you want to be if you don't think you can defend yourself," Potter said as he read one of the parchments on the wall, "and if you can't do that then at least make sure you can pretend that you can defend yourself. This place can be worse than Knockturn Alley on a bad day."

Hermione was feeling more and more confused as Potter talked, which he stopped doing as his brew began to bubble with the heat. He jumped back over to it and lowered the heat before scooping some into two cups that he took from one of the drawers. Stirring the brew one last time, he walked over to Hermione with one cup and went to hand it to her. Hermione stared at the cup for a moment, remembering what she thought had seen go into it and wondering just how safe it was to drink.

"Soothing potion," Potter said, "help settle the nerves."

Hermione stared at him for a moment. He must be mad; who called them "potions" unironically? Harry sighed kindly when Hermione didn't move.

"If I wanted to harm you I would have done it already," he chuckled. Hermione didn't want to be rude and Potter seemed sincere so she thanked him for the drink and sipped it. Immediately she felt better, the drink warm and slightly thick, a taste of caramel lingering in her mouth. "Taste alright?" Potter asked as he sat on the sofa against the next wall and Hermione nodded in return, taking another sip. "So, what were you doing in Baxton Square, Miss Granger?"

Hermione was a little taken aback by the fact that Potter knew her name but so many strange things were happening that she moved past it.

"I live here. Well, I live in Baxton village. And it's Hermione, by the way."

"Hermione it is, then. And I know you do, it's my business to know what's happening, what I want to know is why you're in Baxton Square."

"I was exploring the village," Hermione answered, "as I was heading home I decided to check out the forest too and found my way here. I haven't lived here long, I still don't really know the area."

Potter nodded and sipped his own drink. There was silence between them for a moment before Potter asked another question that left Hermione completely baffled.

"So why have I never noticed you at Hogwarts?"

"What?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows raised.

"Hogwarts, our school; I don't think I've seen you around."

"That might be because I don't go there," Hermione chuckled.

"Oh, Beauxbatons then? Surely not Durmstrang?"

"My mum home-schools me," Hermione revealed, and now it was Potter's turn to raise his eyebrows.

"That must be difficult."

"Not really, she's a writer so she teaches me my English skills, and she knows a bit about maths and science and stuff so I get by with them." Potter shifted forward in his seat and his eyes narrowed on Hermione. She felt a little awkward and shifted slightly, making sure not to stare back into his eyes. "What?" she asked, laughing nervously.

"You don't know, do you?" he asked.

"Know what?" Hermione asked, very confused by the entire situation and even more confused when Potter's look of such seriousness turned to a grin of joy.

"Oh this is perfect," he laughed as he sat forward and stared ahead in excitement, "I've seen Hagrid and Professor McGonagall do this countless times but I've never done it myself… okay, I've got to get this right, can't screw it up…"

Hermione was slightly concerned. Potter seemed to be talking more to himself now than her and she was beginning to think he was truly mad.

"Sorry, Mr Potter-"

"Please, call me Harry," Potter managed to say in-between his ramblings.

"Harry… what do I not know?"

Harry turned and whipped his glasses off his face dramatically, trying to hold a serious face but a smirk breaking through. "You're a wizard, Hermione."

Silence once more. Hermione was dumbfounded.

"I'm… wait, w- what?" she stuttered.

"Well, technically you're a witch but "you're a wizard" sounds so much better. Either way, you're one of them," Harry said, smiling heartily.

Hermione stared at him for a moment.

"You… you are crazy," she said, "you think I'm a witch?"

"I don't think you are, I know you are," Harry replied, smirking.

"Do I look like a witch?!" Hermione shot, suddenly remembering that witches were meant to be old and haggard.

"Yes, of course… I mean, not the witches you'll have grown up hearing about, normal witches and wizards look just like ordinary folk. Hold on, I'll check," Harry said as he placed his glasses back on his face and peered at her, "yeah, you look one."

Hermione looked at the cup she was holding in her hand and slowly placed it on the coffee table.

"What did you put in that drink?" she asked which Harry found funny.

"There's nothing in that brew that shouldn't be," he smiled, taking another sip of his own drink.

"I'm in a dream…" Hermione whispered, before staring back at Harry, "that's what this is, isn't it? This is all a dream, right?"

"I sincerely hope not," Harry said, looking quickly at his own body and pinching himself, "If it is, please don't wake up; I rather enjoy existing."

Hermione laughed weakly and stared at the ground. This was all a bit too much and her head was starting to hurt. She had to be dreaming. She must have fallen asleep in the library and this was just some crazy dream she was having because her brain was still stuck in the book she'd been reading. She just had to go back to sleep again. But, at the same time, she didn't want Harry to disappear; he seemed nice and funny, despite his insane ramblings about wizards and Hogwarts.

"How do you even know I'm a witch?" Hermione asked.

"The fact that you're here is proof enough. Baxton Square is a magical market place with an enchantment on it to keep muggles – non-magic people – away. You can only get here if you're a magical being. Which brings me onto my next point, and you might not like it," Harry said, biting his lip.

"Go on, what else is there?" Hermione sighed, resting her head on one of her hands propped up by her elbow resting on her leg.

"You're not just a witch. You're a veela," Harry said and seemed to tense his face in preparation for her reaction. Hermione, of course, had no idea what this meant and so didn't know how to react. Harry seemed to notice this and clicked his fingers, causing a book to come flying off one of the shelves and land in front of Hermione. "Creatures of immense beauty, gifted in the magical arts with the ability to harness their own kind of magic."

Hermione stared at the book and picked it up.

"Not to sound arrogant but… why is that stuff bad?"

"I think you already know the answer to that, Hermione," Harry said sadly. "I imagine Gregory isn't the first person to talk to you like that?"

Hermione stared at nothing in particular as she remembered all the times she'd been shunned by her friends and harassed by the boys (and a few girls) at her old school.

"The problem with the "immense beauty" part is that, for most people, it can be too much. They become infatuated with veela, going out of their way to impress them, often making a fool out of themselves. Most of the time it's because the veela doesn't have great control over her abilities and it sort of slips out sometimes. Although you can use it to your advantage if you're feeling particularly malicious," Harry smirked. "Also the Ministry of Magic, along with a lot of the Wizarding World, recognise veela as creatures simply because you're not technically human. A ghastly label to have for no other reason than you're a little different. Still, everything you need to know should be in that book."

"So… why is it not affecting you?"

Harry chuckled.

"Let's just say I've developed an… immunity to their advances."

"Is there anything else I need to know about this then?"

"You can turn into a half-human-half-bird creature."

Silence yet again as Harry and Hermione stared at each other.

"Really?" Hermione asked.

"Really," Harry answered.

"H-how? I mean, I'm not going to do it by accident, am I?"

"Maybe, but only when you're angry. And I mean really angry, like "somebody just murdered by dog in front of me" levels of pissed off."

"Good thing I've always been more of a cat person then," Hermione chuckled and Harry laughed a little to. "This is crazy," Hermione whispered, "this can't be real."

"It's as real as I am here in front of you," Harry said as he finished his drink, before stopping for a moment, "then again if you don't think this is real then you probably don't think I'm real either, which kind of makes my point invalid. Anyway, when you realise that this is real and you want to find out more, feel free to find me at the manor on the hill. I'd be more than happy to help you get ready for Hogwarts in September, assuming you want to go, of course."

"You don't live here?" Hermione asked.

"No no, this is just a flat I keep as a sort of safe-house-slash-storage-room. One could argue that Hogwarts is my real home, but the manor in Baxton is where I live away from there."

Hermione, still holding the book, shook her head a little. "I need to sleep… or to wake up, whichever one makes it easier to understand all of this."

"Feel free to head home if you like, I have some business to attend to as it so happens."

"I think that would be best."

"Follow me then," Harry said as he stood. Hermione expected him to head for the door back out to Baxton Square, but instead he lead her to the door beside them leading to another room. They walked into a cosy bedroom, a large bed in the centre of the back wall with other furniture dotted around the room, including a dresser, wardrobe, fireplace, another door leading off somewhere else and a full-length mirror in the corner. It was to this mirror that Harry walked, standing next to it with both his arms outstretched, as if he was presenting it to Hermione as a prize.

"The place you want to go to, does it have a mirror there?" he asked and Hermione nodded, remembering her own mirror in her room. "Then just get a general idea of what the room is like – you don't have to remember every exact detail – and walk through the mirror." Hermione stared at him again and he smiled. "I'm being serious. And remember, feel free to come to the manor when you're ready, Professor Dumbledore will be delighted to have another student at the school. Are you ready?" Hermione breathed in heavily and nodded. "Until next time then," Harry said, bowing his head a little.

"Thank you," Hermione said as she stepped forward. She closed her eyes as she walked towards the mirror, expecting to hit the cold surface any moment. She kept walking for longer than she thought there was distance between herself and the mirror but she expected she had just misjudged it. Eventually she did hit something; a large, heavy obstacle hit her legs and she fell forward, landing on something very soft. She opened her eyes and found herself back in her own bedroom. Once again, she was baffled. She realised she was lying on top of the heavy book and rolled off it, picking it up and placing it on her dresser. It would be gone when she woke up anyway. She caught herself in her mirror again as she turned to her bed and looked at herself. She noticed her thick, bushy hair, the wrinkles around her eyes from reading so much and her front teeth that were so much larger than the others. Well, perhaps her skin was slightly smoother than she remembered. And were her teeth shorter than normal?

"Immense beauty, my arse," she muttered to herself as she collapsed onto her bed and closed her eyes.

Kinda short first chapter, I know, just wanted to get something uploaded even if it's just to motivate me to get into writing again (the Xmas holidays have made me lazy, sorry). Hope you guys enjoy this and what I have coming up for it so far, it's a concept I've been working on for a while and been trying to get right.

Thanks for reading and feel free to leave a review, all appreciated.