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09. 19. 79.

St Mary's Hospital, London

On a mid-september night, just as the chill of fall began to set in for the season, and the Whomping Willow laid its branches to rest for the evening, Albus Dumbledore was awakened by the incessant chirp of an anxious phoenix right as the clock struck twelve. The old headmaster sighed in irritation at having been disturbed from his slumber, and quite a pleasant dream, too. The fleeting image of him riding a bright orange occamy through a field of lemon drops came to him as he slid on his magenta night slippers, all while Fawkes trilled from the other room.

The bird in question was found in one corner of Albus' office, his usual perch abandoned. As he approached the offending bird, the drowsiness cleared and he slowly realized that the Phoenix was standing atop the Book of Admittance, which was glowing brightly with the telltale light of a new entry into the book. Albus' brow rose in question, the entering of a student's name on the list was common enough in his office that his phoenix ignored the occurrence.

The headmaster approached the dragonhide bound book, nudging aside the hovering Quill of Acceptance that had just finished writing the location of the entry next to the student's name. There, in fresh ink, was the newest name on the list for the future batch of Hogwarts students, Lady Hermione Jean Percy, Room 919, St Mary's Hospital, London.

The confusion fell away as Albus read the girl's title. He immediately moved towards the fireplace, scooping up a bit of Floo Powder, and tossing it into the dying embers in the hearth.

"Harold Mitchum." he announced.

The Minister's face appeared a few moments later. "Headmaster Dumbledore, I was not notified that you would be calling. I was just about to step out to go home."

"Yes, well, I hadn't notified myself either, Harold." Albus said, "I'm afraid you are going to have to postpone your plans a while longer."

"How so, Headmaster?" the man asked, wondering what could possibly be happening at Hogwarts.

"A new student was added to the Book of Admittance just a few moments ago by the name of Lady Hermione Percy, who is currently a resident of St Mary's Hospital in London."

The Minister's face took on a look of shock, "Oh my, but there hasn't been a muggle royal or member of peerage in over a century." he muttered, "I must see to this at once, thank you, Headmaster."

His duty done, Albus went back to his personal quarters, hoping that his dream would begin where it had left off

Ralph and Jane Percy's elation at the birth of their first born was dampened an hour after her birth. Ralph had been watching over his wife, who had succumbed to her exhaustion and had fallen asleep for the night, when he heard the doors to their private room open. He had assumed that it was his father, come to tell him that he was going home for the night, but the soft cough of a woman drew his attention from his dozing wife's side.

The young father's eyes widened when he registered the woman's presence, "Prime Minister Thatcher!" he stuttered, hastily standing. "Good evening! I wasn't aware that my father had told you of my child's birth."

"At ease, Ralph," the woman chuckled at his expense, "I'd like to express my congratulations on the birth of your daughter. But, we are here on official business.

"Business, madam?" he asked, confused. Ralph wondered if this was all a fever dream induced by the exhaustion of his wife's 32 hour labor.

"This is Harold Mitchum, British Minister of Magic." she said, and he finally noticed the presence of a formidable looking man at her side, who was oddly clothes in a cloak of some sort.

"Magic?" he asked in disbelief. Yes, surely he was hallucinating. His hand itched to grab the emergency button on the side of the hospital bed, but the Prime Minister's serious gaze stopped him from doing so.

"Magic and magic wielders has existed in this world for millennia, Ralph, I have only recently been privileged with the knowledge of its existence. Witches and wizards have been living peacefully among us in secret, they have their own world, own form of government, and everything you can imagine."

"But why does this involve me Madam?" he asked, feeling light headed.

"Our world has a way of identifying magic wielders the moment they are born, Mr Percy. Just over an hour ago, we were informed of a new addition of a Muggleborn- a child born of non-magical people - to our population. Nothing of great note, usually, but because of her circumstances, we had to resort to informing your ministry of the situation."

"You see when a witch or wizard is born into royalty or peerage, certain precautions must be set to ensure the secrets of the magical world are kept secret." said Madam Thatcher.

"Are you telling me that my daughter is a - a witch?" he said, flabbergasted.

"Yes, and, considering the popularity of your certain house to the public, as well as how those in the peerage are closely observed by many, it would be unwise to allow your daughter to grow up under the eye of the public, surrounded by non-magical people." said Mitchum.

Ralph's face paled in horror, "You aren't taking my daughter!" he said defensively.

"Of course not," the wizard scoffed.

"What we are merely suggesting is that you hide your daughter, keep her out of the public eye until it is time for her to begin her transition into the magical world and attend Hogwarts School for Witches and Wizards." Madam Thatcher said.

"Hide her?" he asked, growing increasingly distraught.

"Yes, her files are being collected as we speak. Her birth will be altered as a stillbirth, and I must ask you to change her last name, at the very least."

The tired man eyed the two notable figures in front of him, "I - I will have to speak with my wife and father about this before agreeing to anything."

"Understandable," Thatcher said, "We will be returning tomorrow to make the proper arrangements."

As the door closed behind them, Ralph glanced at his wife, who had somehow slept through the entire ordeal he had just gone through, and began trying to figure out how to relay the message to an exhausted, recently pregnant woman.

12. 17. 84.

Alnwick Castle

Ralph Percy watched his first born child prance around the castle gardens with her two year old sister, giggling while they played. Five years had passed quickly since the day Hermione had been born, and now he and Jane had another two in tow, who had not been blessed with the gift of magic as their eldest had. The younger children, well, Catherine mostly, since George was just an infant, always wondered why their elder sister had to stay at the castle instead of with them in London.

Ralph and Jane struggled to make excuses for Hermione, having agreed to keep Hermione's magic from her brother and sister until they could understand fully. Even now, only their closest family members new about the situation. Hermione stayed in the castle year round, and they visited as much as they could, though with each visit, leaving was even more difficult.

When Hermione turned two, she had been sent to Alnwick to live with her grandfather, Hugh Percy, the Duke of Northumberland, to better hide her identity, since his father kept to himself mostly. They had chosen the name Granger by chance, and had it legally changed, much to his dismay. Hermione seemed to take to everything rather well, immersing herself in her grandfather's library every time she felt a bit down.

Hugh Percy was a strict father, and an even stricter grandfather. To put her time to better use, besides the slew of private tutors that taught her daily lessons every day under a non-disclosure agreement, there was also a Russian ballet teacher, a piano teacher, an arts master, and a governess who oversaw etiquette lessons.

Even now, as the child played with her sister and their grandfather's Saint Bernard, who pounced on the two girls playfully, she held herself with grace and poise. Hermione's magic although coming at a cost, was something they all saw as a talent. Her first bout of accidental magic, which they had been informed would happen, had occurred a few years prior while she had been throwing a tantrum and suddenly sent her stuffed animals flying about the room.

So deep was he in his thoughts that he had not noticed his children coming to greet him. Hermione held on to Catherine's hand for support, guiding them towards him.

"Good afternoon, Father." Hermione said primly.

"Good afternoon, my darling." he said, smiling.

"Papa!" the younger girl cried, extending her arms to be carried.

"I must go, Father." she said, excusing herself, "It's time for my lessons."

"Lessons? Hasn't your grandfather given you a break for Christmas?" he asked, brows raising.

"Yes, but I have ballet and piano classes still." she smiled proudly.

"Of course." he nodded, "Well, you best be off then, love. Should I call Mary for you to help with changing?"

"If you could, please." she nodded before taking her leave.

Hermione growing so much like a child right out of her grandfather's time that her propriety seemed to be so out of place. It alarmed him sometimes, how formal she was, but her grandfather adored that she was a dainty little princess so much, that he obliged.

To be completely honest with himself, he was the same at her age, but instead of ballet and piano, it was horsemanship and violin.

"Dada, where Mi going?" the child in his arms babbled.

"To ballet, little one." he cooed, "Now why don't we go visit Mummy, then?"

07. 26. 91

Alnwick Castle

Hermione had been waiting for her Hogwarts letter for most of her life, even though she knew little about it. Her father had explained to her that when witches and wizards turned eleven, she would be able to attend the school to learn how to control her magic. Though for her, it would be twelve, since she was born just shy of September 1st. Also different for her was the fact that even though she was a Muggleborn, she had known all her life that she was a witch.

Hermione knew she was not normal. The fact that she had been born into a noble family was abnormal enough, adding to that she was a witch. It was something she thought about regularly. She understood why her life was the way it was, why she, until recently, only saw her family on holidays and why she had a different name. She loved her family, truly, she did, but the distance between them when she was younger had created an odd relationship between them.

When her grandfather died three years prior, and her uncle succeeded him, her father had been tasked with managing the estate, and had moved the entire family into Alnwick, which she enjoyed greatly, except Catherine and George still left for school and Melissa and Max were too young to play with. She never wanted her father or mother to know she was lonely, her father especially, who worried about her too much, and made up for leaving her all those years by showering her in presents, until now.

She had woken up early that morning, so early that the castle was quiet and the cook had yet to wake up to prepare breakfast. After laying in bed for the longest time trying to go back to bed, she decided to get some air. Godfrey, her late grandfather's Saint Bernard had followed her out the moment he had spotted her sneaking out to the grounds. For a moment, she thought about taking Frost, her horse, out for a ride, but dropped the idea almost immediately.

With a sigh, she settled for a walk around the grounds.

"When do you think my letter will show up, Godfrey?" she asked the behemoth of a dog who only looked up at her in response. "Father said that he was told it would arrive in the summer. I've been waiting for weeks. Do you think I've suddenly not become a witch?"

Godfrey barked, and ran off to chase a butterfly that had been fluttering around some flowers. She sighed again, before continuing on. The castle was one of her favorite things in the world, it was truly something out of a fairytale, and she would be sad about leaving her home for a boarding school in Scotland.

"Lady Hermione?" a voice called from behind them.

She turned to find her nanny walking towards her, "Yes, Mary?"

"It's time to prepare for breakfast now."

Hermione sighed again, but followed the fair haired woman back inside.

"I'll be going soon, you know, Mary." she said after a while.

"Going, my Lady?" Mary asked inquisitively.

"To boarding school." she said. "I suppose you won't see me again 'til Christmas."

"I'm sorry to hear that, my Lady." the maid said softly.

Hermione hummed, nonplussed. She had never gotten on with the servants as well as she wanted to, most of them were too intimidated by her to actually befriend her. Her only friends were her siblings, really, and even then, she only saw them every now and then. That was one of the things she was excited about going to Hogwarts. She could finally be somewhere she didn't have to pretend about who she was.

The year before, her father had begun telling her about the life he and both ministries had built for her. Reading about her nonexistent dentist parents depressed her sometimes, and the notes about where she lived and where she went to school annoyed her. She ever so wanted to tell people about the beautiful castle that she lived in, and her Frost, and her brothers and sisters.

"You're slouching." Mary noticed, having observed Hermione's governess all these years as she was practically beat bloody into a lady. Hermione immediately corrected herself.

"Thank you, Mary." she said, once she entered her room and saw that the woman had prepared her clothes for the day.

Dressed in a pale yellow summer frock her mother had bought for her, she walked down to breakfast at half past eight exactly, where the rest of her family, bar Uncle Henry, who was never at breakfast.

"Good morning." she said, thanking Dirk, their butler, for pulling out her chair, at her father's right hand just across her mother's and next to Catherine who was seated across from George and Melissa. Max was still too young to sit at the table.

"Good morning." they all replied.

They began eating after saying grace, and she found, just like the days prior, she had little to no appetite, choosing instead to absently sip at her tea and look out the window.

"Leopold hates it when you don't eat, you know." says Catherine, who was best friends with the cook and often spent her time in the kitchens.

"I know," she sighed, "but I can't find it in me to eat."

"You're worrying too much about it, of course you've been accepted. The letter might've been delayed or something."

"Cathy's right, you know, love." said her mother, "You know yourself that they've had a spot for you ever since you were born."

She sighed heavily, "I know but what if -"

A distinct tapping came from the window that drew all their attention towards it. Hermione could see a large barn owl perched on the stone ledge outside.

"Leopold, could you get us some more coffee, please." her father said quickly, making the man leave as soon as possible. The minute the door closed behind him, Hermione stood, walking quickly to pry the heavy windows open. When they wouldn't budge, her father stood to push the glass panes and help her, looking down at his child, who seemed to almost be exploding with excitement.

Hermione unwound the letter from the bird's leg and tore the seal open, eyes rapidly scanning the words written. "I've been accepted!" she exclaimed.

Her father chuckled, looking at the letter over her shoulder, "Of course you have, darling."

He led her still busy daughter back to her seat and they continued breakfast with a Hermione they had missed the past few days. Though her usual reserved questions and trivia was now coupled with intensity and excitement they had never seen from her before.

"But Father, how I will I buy my things?" she asked, glancing once again at her supplies list.

"I've already dealt with that, darling. I sent a letter to the Ministry a few weeks ago and your things will be delivered the week before you leave for school. Your mother has also gotten you a full wardrobe of witch's robes along with your school uniform."

Hermione's eyes shined brightly as she thanked her mother. She had never looked so excited in her life.

a/n: okay so this fic is just a tiny bit self-indulgent. this is a no-war fic. Voldemort died after the first war. no prophecy nothing. I was just wondering what life would be like as a witch who was like "Royal". also I know that life isn't truly like this for people in the peerage. I'm merely romantacizing it for the sake of the story. ALSO do any of you recognize Alnwick castle?