I was completely flabbergasted. You would be too, if you suddenly found yourself in the well organised mind and body of one Hermione Jean Granger, living at number 42, Prusley road, Crawley, London, with her two parents who worked as dentists.

It started innocently enough. Today morning, I got a call from a friend for a study session that was promised earlier. As it usually happens, I completely forgot about it till about five minutes before ETA. It was a disaster of epic proportions. Some students may look at me in horror and say, "But, but, but, STUDY!? Books!? Why were you in so much hurry for that?" Well, the call was from the hottest girl in my school, and she was having problems in more than one subjects, so I had expected to be at her house for about two hours. Forgive a teenager for being hormonal.

Anyway, as I said, I was on the brink of being late, and that in this case was as criminal as high treason. So, when I got outside to my bike, I had naturally forgotten my keys. Another round trip, and the phone was nowhere to be found. Needless to say, I was at the brink of getting bald pulling my hair out in anxiety.

After all was said and found, I started ten minutes later than I should have arrived. Yeah, I drove like a demon was chasing me. I am not proud of it, but I was seldom below 50Kmph. I usually drive around 30Kmph, and yes, you can probably imagine my ride was very adventurous. Also, did I mention that I live in India? Yes, that pot-hole filled, cow wandering India.

Is it any wonder that I was hit by a truck?

The very next thing I know, I am sleeping, with a cover over my body, and the room is dark. But I am feeling all sorts of wrong. Now, when I usually wake up, I have the usual wake up call waiting for me, which has me rushing to the bathroom to avoid any accidents. But there was no pressure there. No, that's wrong, the pressure was there but nothing being long and uncomfortably hard attached to it. A quick look, and my heart nearly stopped.

But then I noticed that my hands were too small, my fat tummy all but gone (And wasn't that a relief), and my eyes were seeing clearly without my glasses, and, yeah, I was pretty much going into shock. Thank god that it was around 2 AM here when my eyes opened, as I would have be in pretty deep trouble if Hermione's parents had arrived to talk to me.

It took me around an hour to stop panicking and start thinking logically. I started trying to put everything I knew into perspective. Now, I am no Ronald Weasley in logical reasoning and deduction, so it quickly became clear that whatever the hell happened to me had something to do with that accident.

I have heard that people usually hallucinate when inside a coma. That was a very obvious and troubling conclusion. The other thought my mind scrapped up was that I had what I will call 'switched minds' with a younger person, who was very obviously a female. After a while of just laying there thinking, I started going through, now my own, possessions, thinking about who I was. Even as I started seeing things, they began to feel familiar to me, as if they had been with me all my life. I didn't feel that I was living with two complete strangers, I was living with 'Mom' and 'Dad,' just like I had done all my life. Funny, it was then that I realized what my name was. I think that name is such a fundamental part of who you are that one big hammer blow was needed to make the change. I was again starting to panic about my name, but then realized that there could have been any number of Hermione Granger in London. In Crawley. Having two parents as dentists. Bushy brown hair. A little big front teeth. Perfect teacher's pet. Yeah, I was doomed.

Then I had a brief ray of hope, of sunshine, that maybe there was no magical world hidden away. After all, the chances of magic being real was infinitely smaller as compared to me just being a Muggle Hermione as described in canon.

The hope survived till breakfast, when a prim and proper stereotypical looking Witch, with graying hair in a tight bun and mouth pressed into a thin line entered our home. Apparently, I am a magical; or a Witch. There is a Diagon Alley where a perfectly shrewd species called Goblins handle the Wizarding money in a bank called Gringotts. There is a school up north named Hogwarts which teaches young witches and wizards the art of magic. Needless to say, my parents were overwhelmed and getting very angry when the witch pulled out her wand and changed the table into a cat. Nobody could dispute that as anything but magic.

Now, my parents are of a fairly open mind. So, I was soon accepted into Hogwarts and on the way to Diagon Alley.

Now, an important fact for Hermione till last night was that her parents were noticeably absent in her life. Their place was taken up by books and teachers, in that order. So it was that Hermione Granger, newly christened Muggleborn Witch, was following a step behind the stern Professor Minerva Mcgonagall, walking deeper and deeper inside Diagon Alley without any of her parents.

It wasn't that they didn't love her. It was that they were not a very compatible couple, and stayed together for her sake. Slowly but surely, in their sub-conscious thoughts, they realised that she was the reason they were trapped into this false façade of a loving family. So, they were always distanced from her, in a way. She learnt riding bicycles from her neighbourhood kids, reading was a necessity to overcome boredom. She wasn't a very outgoing type of person, and neither am I. No one she would honestly call a friend, but some upperclass students helped her in studies and liked her for her intellect.

Lost in thought, we arrived at Gringotts, and I was appropriately terrified of those little blighters. A part of my mind noted that I was able to walk easily, without stumbling. It was actually much easier to walk without the junk between my legs.

The older Witch held out the Muggle pounds given by Dad, to be changed to Wizarding currency. Then we exited the bank, much to my relief. I am very much terrified by the very idea of rollercoasters, and a cart ride was sure to be much more terrifying.

We first went to buy a trunk for Hogwarts. Here, the shitload of fanfiction stories I had read made their thoughts known. While I had no need for a trunk with kitchen, library, parlour, three bedrooms, etc, I still thought that security precautions that could be taken, should be. I was going to make waves in Hogwarts. So I needed to be ready.

While the Professor was busy talking with another wizard near the counter, I slipped away to look at the aisles of trunks, offering different things for different prices and different people. Student trunks came cheaper than others, that didn't mean that they were cheap though. In the end, I decided to go with a trunk with two compartments, one each for clothes and books, and one secret compartment, but not very large. Just for the occasional porn and stuff. Hey, don't judge. I was planning ahead. Paid for it left and left the store. Got the rest of the stuff, and went to buy my wand.

Ollivander tried to scare me as he did with all others, but I merely turned and greeted him politely. Whatever emotion I showed outside, inside I was feeling quite anxious. This was the moment of truth, the point where two very different realities diverged.

My wand was the fifth one I tried. It seemed to connect to something inside him. Like a blind person could suddenly see. Like a deaf person could suddenly hear. It was... awesome is the correct word, but it has lost the charm due to excessive use. It was exhilarating. Yes. It was phenomenal. It was everything you think it must have been, and more.

Well, I could give you the description of my wand, down to every rune engraved on it, but where is the fun in that.

Let yourself get in my place. Touch the most important piece of wood in your life. Feel the runes gently pulse with a very dim light, the core of your wand calling out to you. The almost intimate moment, where you get an extension to yourself, a tool to use, to explore this wonderful and terrible place, with its dragons and unicorns and sixty foot Basilisks, Flying brooms and ancient castles, Philosopher's stone and Resurrection stone, soul sucking demons and reporters (aren't they the same?), Time Turners and invisibility cloaks. Feel the moment, and you will get what I did, then. This is so much better than just telling you what my wand was made of, isn't it? You would never actually realize what it means for a wand to be twelve inches in length and not thirteen, what it means to have a Beech wood wand as compared to a Holly, what it feels to have a Dragon Heartstring core in comparison to a Phoenix feather core.

Went poetic for a moment there...

Anyways, you've been caught up with whatever's happened with me today. Next update'll probably contain more information. Stay tuned!!

And then she disabled the dicta-quill, and folded up the diary, to be stored in the hidden compartment of her trunk.