Chapter Text
Two brothers and two sisters, alike... well, if not in dignity, at least in ridiculous names and in an appreciation for intelligence. Siger, Rudelle (Rudy), Kestry and Emandora (Emma) grew alongside each other in wealth and the best education that money could buy, aware that Holmes money only passed down if they maintained a tradition of 'unique' names. No one had challenged the terms of this legacy, content with the status quo. Their superior intellect comforted them when bullying at school became too much. They had each other.
Siger was the eldest, and married first. Found a girl at university. Their academic discussions were a form of flirting. It still took a few years out of university, Olivia with her masters in mathematics, before they married and began to consider children.
Mycroft came along and perplexed everyone. He was the strangest member of the Holmes family since Rudy, but in a different way. He was hyper intelligent, yes, but instead of flamboyant and enthusiastic like Rudy, he quietly watched people like a hawk. Siger and Olivia were so uncertain of their son that they took several years before trying again. Sherlock was more like a normal child, yet slower than Mycroft, which was a worry. When he went to school, however, he was a prodigy compared to normal children. Their parents felt comfortable enough trying for a third child.
This was a mistake, discovered too late.
In the same year that Eurus arrived, Kestry gave birth to a son she named Quiston. It was the last year for the cousins, nineteen-eighty. The year before, Emma bore a daughter, though she refused to follow family tradition. As a dentist, married to another dentist, she was confident that they didn't need the family money to raise Hermione without additional financial help. It was quite a scandal.
They still gathered for family holidays, usually at the Holmes family mansion until the fire made it uninhabitable. After that, visits to each other were brief. Mycroft left for university, Sherlock drew into himself, Hermione was having her own trouble making friends at school, Eurus had died in the fire, and Quiston saw little of his mother. When she died, his father kept him away from the Holmes family. Hermione still wrote to him, not wishing to lose the only family member who knew what it was like to be an only child.
Quiston discovered email around the same time that her Hogwarts letter arrived, and their communication fell to birthday and Christmas cards. Mycroft entered the workforce, Sherlock forgot he had a sister and thought he'd had a dog.. it all fell apart.
But Hermione was relieved.
Sometimes she looked over the last picture of the five of them, from Christmas before the fire: Mycroft, the cold fish, looking down his nose at them all from the centre at the back, almost like a puppet master; Sherlock at the far left, half-draped on the couch, barely making eye contact with the camera, his fingers stained with chemicals from his chemistry set; Quiston on the far right, his posture erect, pliers in one hand, an old kitchen timer half pulled apart in the other, glasses perched on the end of his nose; Hermione beside him, peeking out from behind a book, a slightly annoyed look on her face at being interrupted while reading Sense and Sensibility, her feet unable to touch the ground quite yet; and Eurus beside Sherlock, a hand curled possessively on his knee, her eyes boring into the camera, intense and unsettling. All curly-haired, all brilliant in their own ways.
Eurus may have been a year younger, but she'd always scared Hermione. Her obsession with Sherlock, never letting Hermione talk with him for longer than a few minutes, and certainly never letting them alone together. It was creepy.
If Eurus had set the fire to the Holmes mansion – which they had been living in at the time, left to Uncle Siger as the eldest son – Hermione wouldn't be the least bit surprised. It would also be unsurprising that, at such a young age, she managed to set herself on fire accidentally and died as a result of her own carelessness.
For some reason, Sherlock had apparently forgotten entirely about her. It was a strange way for him to grieve; but as no one spoke about Eurus anymore, it didn't bother Hermione. She just hoped everyone would keep an eye on him while she was at Hogwarts. If only she could tell him about magic. She was sure he would find it fascinating, perhaps even be able to make potions himself.
Well... perhaps one day she could let him in on the secret. For now, only her parents could know.
In Flourish and Blotts, Hermione was in heaven. Her parents had told her aunts and uncles that she had been accepted into an exclusive school for gifted students in Scotland, though Hermione had only applied on a whim, not expecting to get in. Fortunately, with Emandora's – or, as she preferred to be called, Emma's – university fees already paid off, including her masters in specialist reconstruction, they could afford the fees. They had set up a bank account at Gringotts, and as Hermione had money of her own from competitions she had entered over the years, she could afford to splurge a bit on books. They had left this shop until last, to ensure she would have the most time – and spending money – to buy what she wished (aside from her set list).
Goodness, what she could have bought! There were fortunately many books in the second hand section of potential interest. She dismissed the idea of being able to prophesy the future, as the Back to the Future films that her father loved made it clear that the future was unwritten. While much of the future could be predicted – the grass was likely to still be green tomorrow, cows were likely to continue producing milk, et cetera – other things were unpredictable. A patient might cancel their appointment. Quiston might turn out to be a wizard. Who knew?
Well, Curses and Counter-Curses may be helpful. Certainly the second part of the title would be useful. You never know when you might need to reverse a curse. Charm Your Own Cheese was tempting, since Hermione had never been allowed to eat many sweets, and had thus developed more of a taste for savoury foods. Still, she doubted she would be learning about culinary arts at Hogwarts. Or would she? Was it better to be prepared? If so, something more well-rounded, rather than specific, would be a better investment.
“You don't think it will be gouda-nuff?” her father asked, when she put it back on the shelf. Her mother groaned, and so did a few other people nearby.
“Daddy, I camembert your puns, you know that,” Hermione responded, leading to more groans, though a bright-eyed, red-haired boy nearby lit up.
“That was brilliant,” he said. “Forge, get over here.”
An exact copy of him rounded the shelf. Twins. Unless there were more? Or had he made a copy, and that was what he meant by saying 'Forge'? Was it a spell to make a copy of yourself?
“What is it, Gred?”
“This charming young lady and her father are connoisseurs of puns,” Gred replied. “Gred and Forge, or Fred and George, Weasley, at your service. Buying your first year books?”
“We're about to enter our third year at Hogwarts,” Forge – or whichever one it was supposed to be – said. “Got your wand already? I see you've got your cauldron. Always a good idea to get that early, use it to carry things around.”
“Yes, it'll be my first year,” Hermione said. “And I can tell you're already trouble.”
“Smart lass, might be a Ravenclaw in the making,” Forge said. “Pity we can't lure her over to Gryffindor with our dashing good looks.”
“She's even buying extra books, she'll be one of Flitwick's for sure,” Gred added. “What's your name, little bookworm--”
“Fred! George!”
“Ah, that'll be our mother,” Forge said. “We'd better pay and get going.”
“Before she sends Percy in after us,” Gred said, his eyes widening, and they shuddered. “See you at Hogwarts, firstie. Or better yet, on the Hogwarts Express. In case you don't know how to get to the platform--”
“You walk through the wall between platforms nine and ten--”
“Do it at a run if you're nervous--”
“And you'll be there!”
“Bye!” they chimed together, and hurried off to the counter.
Hermione was left a bit dizzy after the encounter, and turned back to the cook books. She erred on the side of caution and chose a rather large book which would cover all manner of cooking spells and food-related potions. She hoped it would be comprehensive enough. Just because Hogwarts had a library didn't mean it would have every reference text.
Being a Holmes by blood, while a Granger by blood and name, did mean something. Hermione had certain expectations of herself. She must learn everything she can; if not from a book, from people, through observation, sometimes using any means necessary, to protect herself and her family. Some of the books she picked up, she hoped would help her to achieve that. While her father rolled her eyes, her mother nodded in approval.
The bookseller tried to object, but Hermione had read War and Peace at age ten. She had recently read Les Miserables for a bit of light reading. When she mentioned this, the bookseller sighed.
“Muggleborn,” he muttered. “You'll probably want these as well.”
He fetched two more books, one on wizarding culture and etiquette, and the other a more thorough guide on recent history.
“With Binns still teaching at Hogwarts, and Harry Potter supposedly starting at Hogwarts this year, you'll need these, trust me,” he said. “Good luck, young lady.”
“Thank you,” Hermione said politely.
“Our bags all come with featherlight charms, so you should have no trouble carrying them.”
She found this was true, and they even shrank to fit inside the cauldron as she piled them inside, just as the twins had suggested.
The Granger family retraced their steps and went back through The Leaky Cauldron. Professor McGonagall was waiting for them, and they were among the last of the Muggleborn contingent to return. She saw them all back to their houses safely, wished them well, and reminded them of the date they would be catching the Hogwarts Express.
“From platform nine and three-quarters,” she said, handing Hermione her ticket, and an envelope to keep it inside. Ah. So that was what the twins meant.
“Thank you, professor,” Hermione said.
This was going to be an interesting school year.