Garrick Ollivander was eerily similar to how she had read about him in the books, but felt more real. In retrospect the way he had announced that he sold the 'murder weapon' that was used to kill Harry's parents and left him to a world of abuse and pain was, cartoonish in its delivery. It had obviously been a plot device to focus the readers on the tragedy of Harry, to set him as the Hero, one forged in adversity, but the real Garrick had been... more. It was further proof that she could take nothing for granted and that these were real people, who would react to the world around them and try to exert control over it. That also meant people could change, for better or worse.

  These ruminative thoughts could not detract from the sights around her; she had mostly ignored the shops and various stalls previously, opting instead to 'people watching' and trying to absorb their culture vicariously. To learn a culture, one had to live it to both experience and to truly understand it. That said, barging into the world filled with questions and expecting to be spoon fed answers was not only lazy, it was rude, and first impressions mattered. This is where she felt book Hermione had failed miserably and had contained herself to a handful of friends and acquaintances. It was with this mindset that her next destination was set and she chuckled to herself as to how both versions of her, had settled on the same outcome.

  Books.

  Hermione sped up as they approached Flourish and Blotts, ignoring the smirk her parents sent her way at the sight, she had been a bibliophile as Elena, she had been one as Hermione, so why would she change who she was now. She was already considerably more confident and Dan, her father, had mentioned it, luckily this had been attributed to her acting more like her mother.

  "Welcome to Flourish and Blotts!" a cheerful witch behind the counter

  called out. "Let me know if you need any help finding your

  schoolbooks."

  “Thank you, I’ll be sure to ask if I have any questions”.

  She hurried off before the witch could make further conversation, she was finding it hard to contain herself when just inches from her fingertips was the secrets to the universe..... ok perhaps a little over the top, but her hypothesis was that magic had brought her here, so perhaps it was closer to the mark than she assumed. Her fingers brushed

  lightly over the spines, lingering on titles; Advanced Arithmancy, Ancient Runes for Modern Practitioners, Magical

  theory… But none of them were what she needed. And it was indeed something she needed and not wanted.

  Not finding what she was looking for, she cast her eyes across to the empty alcove where a number of older books, covered in a fine layer of dust lay untouched. She inspected these tomes, seeing more esoteric names and concepts she did not yet understand, but there was what she was looking for, something with the potential to accelerate her learning and failing that, protect her. Occlumency: An Introduction. Opening the first page to

  confirm this is what she needed and choking on the dust in doing so,

  she reads the first page.

  Congratulations, dear reader, for stumbling upon this humble

  tome. If you find yourself perusing these pages, it is likely because

  you possess the uncanny ability to broadcast your innermost thoughts

  like a Muggle radio station on full blast. Fear not, for help has

  arrived - at least for those whose intellect can grasp the subtleties of

  Occlumency.

  Now, before we delve into the intricacies of guarding your

  mind from intrusion, it's imperative to address the rather obvious fact

  that you've managed to live this long without the faintest idea of how

  to shield your thoughts. Truly, it's a wonder you've made it this far

  without inadvertently revealing your deepest desires to anyone within

  earshot.

  But fret not, for you've finally recognized the error of your

  ways and have taken the first step toward rectifying your mental

  ineptitude. With a bit of luck and a considerable amount of effort, you

  might just emerge from these pages with a semblance of mental fortitude.

  So, dear reader, brace yourself for a journey into the realm

  of Occlumency, a realm where the naive are swiftly separated from the

  cunning, and where the art of guarding one’s mind is reserved for those

  with the wit to comprehend its complexities. If you're still here, I

  suppose there's hope for you yet. But don't get too comfortable; your

  mind is far more vulnerable than you realize.

  Hermione letting out a snort of laughter at the words in the book had

  to agree with the writer, she would need to make up for that “mental

  ineptitude”. Placing the book in her basket, that floated around after

  her, she continued buying the rest of the books for the year along with

  some books on duelling and basic self-defence, she remembered the

  stories she read of the first year, fluffy, dragons and a demented dark

  lord who’s attempts to grasp his sanity was like trying to catch a

  Snitch blindfolded.

  Theoretical knowledge would be helpful, but it would not replace the need for practical experience or physical fitness, she sensed a rather sizeable amount of exercise in her future, which she lamented. Sometimes, ignorance truly was bliss.

  She finished her collection of buying books, much to her parents surprise.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Hermione, are you sure you’re done already? Normally we’d be stuck

  here for hours whilst you’d be looking to pitch a tent and camp out” her mother said with a mix of concern and amusement.

  She considered her mothers words, her memories of Hermione did indeed recall one such event, however Elena was far more practical than that, but now her change in behaviour had been noticed, how to address this. "Well, I've realised that I perhaps spend too much time with my books" she said contritely, this was anathema to Hermione but to Elena? She had the years of experience to understand that you really could only learn so much from books. Her mother waited patiently, nervously? Why would this make her nervous? "It is no secret I have no friends, I lack the necessary social skills. This is unacceptable, and I am tired of such a lonely existence, and yes most children are painfully ignorant or stupid or a combination thereof, to the point I have in the past held back, so that they don't see me as the what did they call me.. Ah yes 'The Smart Freak'".

  She took a breath not realising that she was rather spiteful about that... which was strange because she hadn't lived it. "So, I made a decision a few days ago, I would change. I would stop holding back, I would stop trying to be someone I am not and unapologetically show them just who I am. And if I find like-minded people? I do not want to alienate myself because I am a social leper. I will learn, and I will adapt and I will succeed." She breathed heavily "I will not let them beat me" she finished a little more forcefully than she had expected, the entire vitriol in which she had spoken the words, which came unbidden had been... cathartic.

  She looked back up her mother and she could almost feel the worry rolling off of her. The world around them had fallen from her perception, and the silence hung in the air before her mother spoke. "I wish you told me you were struggling like this" she admonished "But I am glad, that you have decided to rise above this hurdle. Your father and I have noticed a substantial change in your behaviour these last few days, but we chalked it up to puberty, perhaps a little early. We had not realised you were, as you put it 'holding back'." she eyed her rather critically "You did so in an attempt to fit in, but this is the real you? Angry at the world.. well perhaps puberty wasn't inaccurate then.." she mumbled towards the end.

  Her mother sighed "Don't tell your father, if he had heard what you told me, he'd be demanding the names of the children who made you feel this way and.. well you know how protective he is. He's already distraught at the idea of boarding school where you'll be surrounded by hormonal teenage boys." then her mother got this faraway look on her face. "Well, let's start on trying to fix some of these things, lets find you a 'friend'"

  She looked at her mother like she was insane, you couldn't just buy a fri... ah. A pet.

  Her mother collected her father and guided them to a pet shop, missing the sign she assumed this was the magical menagerie? She'd confirm when they left.

  The bell chimed as she pushed open the door, and a wave of humid air made her reel back for a second, not that the smell was much better, but certainly not as bad as normal pet shops, magic she assumed, probably made cleaning significantly easier. She had considered getting an owl anyway, as using the school owls would be 'fine' but she assumed there may be some sort of first come first served or a fee to use them, there was a lot of missing information in the 'muggle-born' packet she had been handed.

  She approached a display of owls, their bright eyes gleaming in the

  dim light. There was one owl who stood out though, any self-respecting Harry Potter fan would recognise her majesty. Hedwig. The owl met her eyes and shortly swooped down her eye level. She smiled softly "Ah, as much as I would love to take you with me, I believe you are waiting for someone else, someone whose need is greater than my own, yes?" It felt strange speaking to an owl, but it was a hot topic in forums and fanfictions that suspected Hedwig had become Harry's familiar and she wouldn't interfere in something like that, she had no idea how that magic worked.

  The owl looked at Hermione and nibbled her finger but decided to fly back onto her perch and not leave with the girl.

  “Well, I’ll be, that owl is usually vicious with anyone who even

  looks at her, gotta admit, I’m a bit disappointed she didn’t want to go

  wiv’s ya” the shop clerk lamented.

  Hermione agreed, “I wasn't the right fit for her, and she likely only gets snappish with those who have grubby hands and don't keep them to themselves”.

  Perhaps not an owl then, the others didn't really call to her, if she was supposed to have a pet, then perhaps her mother had meant more a companion. A cat seemed like a good idea, and it would certainly fit the aesthetic of being a witch. Although she had always been bad with animals, but she did see one such black cat whom she approached, but she still didn't feel drawn to it.

  "Hello there," she said tentatively, extending a hand toward the cat. "Are you looking for a new home?"

  The cat regarded her with disdain, its gaze unyielding. Hermione

  withdrew her hand, feeling a pang of rejection, it seemed that her

  attempts to find a pet were doomed to failure.

  As she turned away from the cat, her eyes fell upon a cage tucked

  away in the corner of the shop. Inside was a small, unassuming snake,

  its scales shimmering in the dim light. Well, she may as well get something out of her visit today, seeing as she wasn't going to be leaving with a pet, she'd satiate her curiosity.

  "," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. ""

  To her surprise, the snake responded, its voice a soft hiss that

  seemed to echo in her mind. "," it replied, its tone tinged with

  loneliness. ""

  What? WHAT?! A talking snake? No. As realisation dawned on her, it was not a talking snake, she was a Parseltongue.

  A shiver ran down her spine as she considered the implications. The original Hermione hadn't been a Parseltongue, hadn't shown any discernible magical talent, so either Hermione had hidden this in the books, or this world was very different. She shivered but she didn't know it was from fear or excitement at the prospect.

  Hermione smiled; her fears momentarily forgotten. ""

  she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think we're going to

  be great friends." Why not take what was offered, not to do so was folly.