the_debt_of_time

morning when her father had to leave for work. It just so happened that when she could
not be consoled, he would suddenly lose his car keys only to find them in her crib. After
the fifth day in a row that this happened, Richard decided to take the tube to work.
After so many years of strange occurrences, Richard Granger might have thought
himself mad, or at the very least suffering from some sort of neurological problem, but
thankfully—if he could truly be thankful for such a thing—his wife experienced similar
oddities. Neither could figure out what was happening. Nor did they wish to follow the
rabbit hole so far as to land on the cover of a tabloid, talking about haunted houses and
alien sightings, especially since all strange happenings in or out of their home had a
common factor: Hermione.
Instead, they merely agreed that their child was special and quietly left it at that.
And special was an understatement.
Pulled from his thoughts by the rapping on the front door, Richard looked at his
wife. "Expecting someone?"
"Not this early," Helen said as she stood from the table, affectionately smoothing
down Hermione's bushy brown hair as she moved past her; a part of her hoped that the
locks would move past this frizzy stage quickly. She knew that the other children in
Hermione's class teased her about her hair. It did not help that her front teeth were overly
large as well, but both Richard and Helen had agreed that braces could wait.
Helen opened the front door with a smile, half expecting their neighbour, Mrs
Smythe, to come looking for her lost cats again—the pesky little beasts had a habit of
finding their way into their house, specifically Hermione's bedroom. Just another quirk in
the lives of the Grangers.
When the door fully opened, Helen did not see Mrs Smythe looking for her cats,
but she saw instead an older woman with black hair pulled back into a tight bun, square
spectacles covering stern but kind eyes, wearing a strange-looking black and emerald dress
with a hemline that swept the ground.
"Helen Granger?"
"Yes, may I help you?"
"Actually, I'm here to be of service to you, my dear," the woman said with a polite
smile. "My name is Minerva McGonagall, and I am a professor and the deputy headmistress