True Confessions of a H.A.G.

True Confessions of a H.A.G.

Chapter One: Sarcasm, the Talk, and Wills... All in One Day

August 25, 1996

Dear Diary,

Hermione called me Hag again today.

I swear, that is the last time she will use my initials against me. I will be as beautiful as Helen of Troy from now on, and she can just go on being a body with a brown bush on her head for all I care. She is not going to call me a hag again. Ever. Because from September onwards, I'll be able to curse her with my wand. That's probably why she keeps on saying that this year and the next will be the worst years of her life. Because I'm going to Hogwarts with her this time, whether she wants me to or not.

Of course, you know she adores me at rare times. (And she secretly is jealous of my beauty and ability to act the rest of the time!) You know that's why she told me about all those boys at her school (though she said that she never talks about me to them for fear of being ridiculed.... Ridicule ri-di-kyül vb.: to laugh at or make fun of mockingly or contemptuously syn deride, taunt, twit, mock.

Yesterday, I dressed up as her friend Harry. He's dreadfully cute in those pictures Hermione has of him. I wonder if she likes him. She be pretty stupid not to. I borrowed one of Mum's black dresses, since Hermione doesn't let me into her room anymore (she hasn't since she went off to Hogwarts), and I used the hairdryer to get my hair all messy and sticking up. Hermione just stared at me after that.

Today, I'm going to dress up as Draco Malfoy. But I need to hurry.... Hermione says we're leaving to go to Diagon Alley soon. I can't wait! It's the first time I'm going to a magic place!

Yours,

Helen

Helen spread the last dollop of glue through her usually bushy-dirty-blonde-hair-turned-platinum with her fingers with satisfaction. A pair of kitchen shears and a bottle of her mother's platinum hair dye sat on the edge of the sink, balancing precariously. Helen, however, was busy eyeing herself in the bathroom cabinet mirror, checking her perfectly glued-back platinum blonde hair. She hadn't been able to find a single drop of hair gel in the house, so glue had had to do.

And just in time. "Helen, let's go! We have to meet Harry and Ron in Diagon Alley in an hour!" Hermione screeched from downstairs. Helen rolled her eyes. The Grangers lived only a half an hour away from London, in a small town called Little Doolittleton. What was the use of being early? Nevertheless, she slid down from the stool she had been perched on and left the bathroom, visibly preening. Everyone at Diagon Alley would be impressed, she was sure of it.

Hermione certainly was. When Helen got to the kitchen, her jaw dropped in obvious amazement. It wasn't until she hissed, "What are you trying to do?" when Helen realized she was not impressed. "You look like Malfoy in our first year!"

Helen raised an eyebrow and stared at Hermione until Hermione raised her hands in exasperation and sighed audibly. "Look, I thought my hair needed a trim and a new color," Helen said airily.

Hermione snorted. "A trim? Hag, you hacked off six inches of your hair! And you know Mum's hair dye is long-term... five months guarantee on the label! And what is that in your hair?" She grabbed hold of Helen's hair. "It's sticky. Helen, you put glue in your hair." Her question was not a question but a statement. "Glue, Helen," she repeated. "Glue."

Helen shrugged. "There wasn't any hair gel around," she said. "And don't call me 'Hag'," she added severely.

Her tone was lost on Hermione, who let out a moan of frustration and began pacing so violently, Helen wondered if she would wear a hole in the linoleum. "All right," she muttered to herself, like a madwoman, "she can go like that if she stays with Mum and Dad and she doesn't come with me. I'll just tell Harry and Ron that she's ill today, and we'll find a way to get rid of the dye and glue somehow before school starts." Her gaze fixed on Helen. "Mum, Dad, we're ready to leave!" she said. "And you," she said in a softer voice, "you are going to stay with Mum and Dad, and not come anywhere near me. We'll get rid of your new hairdo when we get home."

"I heard you talking to yourself," Helen said sourly, but Hermione had already headed out the door. Sighing, Helen followed her. It was at times like these when she wondered whether Hermione was really her sister. The first time had been the year Hermione had sent Tooth-flossing Stringmints to her... the same thing she had sent to their parents.

Georgia Granger blinked at her younger daughter as she emerged into the sunshine. "Dear," she said, "what is it that you are wearing? And why is your hair short and blonde?"

"It's the new trend," Hermione lied hurriedly before dragging Helen forcefully into the backseat of the Grangers' car. "Boys clothes with short blonde haircuts, gelled back, you know." She giggled nervously. "Why can't you wear girls clothes for once?" she whispered so only Helen could hear. Helen shrugged.

"Strange," Georgia said as she slid into the front passenger seat, "Hermione, I could have sworn you said the exact same thing yesterday about the hairdryer mussed hair. Now, Hermione, why aren't you following the trends? Back in my day, girls always used to care about looks. Yet you insist on keeping your hair down in the simplest hairstyle, wearing those jeans and button-up shirts when not in uniform. Not that you should give up your books," she added hurriedly.

"What about books?" Richard Granger asked as he entered the car, sitting in the driver's seat. "Did Hermione ask for more book money again? I told you, Hermione, only 100 per year for non-school books!"

"Dad, Mum was just trying to get me to spend more on looks," Hermione grumbled, a small smirk on her face. She knew to turn to their father when she wanted to escape their mother's 'looks' talk.

"Oi, Georgia," Richard said exasperatedly as they backed out of the driveway, "Hermione's her own person. And personally, I'm glad she's not like all those other girls, spending thousands on their hair. She's a smart girl, and will succeed, unlike those other girls. Georgia, leave her alone."

"But Richard, it's not healthy for a girl her age to have her nose stuck in a book...."

"That's what you were doing when you were sixteen," Richard said affectionately.

"That's exactly why I'm trying to help our daughter. The other girls were vicious... they teased me to no end! And I don't want that to happen to our Hermione."

"Mum, no one makes fun of me because I'm smart. Harry and Ron...."

"Harry and Ron are boys, Hermione," Georgia pointed out.

"So?" Richard looked away from the road to goggle at his wife. "Georgia, boys are the ones who are stereotypically the ones who care about...." He red-facedly tried to wave his free hand over his chest. "Certain attributes," he managed to spit out. He glanced back at Hermione in the rearview mirror. "Now that I think about it," he said, "I think you should spend less time with Harry and Roy. And more time with girls."

"It's Ron, Dad," Hermione said. "And Harry and Ron couldn't care less about my breasts. They just noticed I was a girl two years ago!"

"Nevertheless, they did notice," Richard said protectively.

"Now, Hermione," Georgia said. Helen smirked. This was heading in a very dangerous and uncomfortable direction for her sister. "I know Cary is very handsome and polite, but it's rather dangerous to be around him, as we saw this past June...."

"It's Harry," Hermione said. "And Mum, he's just my friend!"

"Wait a minute!" Richard said. "Are you and Harry romantically involved, Hermione?" he asked.

"No! Dad, we-"

"Hermione, remember what your mother and I told you about love. Make sure you and Harry stay within the boundaries." Helen snickered silently, but no one noticed. "And if you, ahem, feel the need, remember the proper protection, Hermione!"

"Dad! Harry and I aren't going out! I went farther than Ron than Harry!" Hermione protested.

Georgia gasped. "Hermione! Are you telling us...."

"Mum, Dad, I am not romantically involved, nor have I ever been, with Ron or Harry," Hermione said slowly. The occupants of the car fell into an uneasy silence. Helen was beginning to feel bored.

Everyone felt rather relieved when Richard found a place to park after only five minutes of searching for a spot. Hermione breezed out of the car as if it were diseased, her face still tomato-red from the conversation. "Dear, where is this Leaky Cauldron again? It's just that we haven't been to Diagon Alley for some years now...." Georgia said uncertainly.

"Follow me," Hermione muttered. She began speed walking away from her family as quickly as she could, as if eager to lose them. Helen was attracting a few stares from the passerby (she was sure they were admirable). She hurried along after Hermione, anxious to enter the wizarding world at long last.

"Hermione, is that the Leaky Cauldron?" Helen asked, pointing to a small antique shop on the corner of a street. Hermione walked on. "Hermione, is that the Leaky Cauldron?"

"No!" Hermione snapped. Helen scowled. Her sister hadn't been the same as before since she came home in June. While she still read too much and looked the same, she would snap at people at random times and start crying for no apparent reason. Helen knew her parents knew what happened, but they never told her. She wanted to know too.

Georgia and Richard grabbed hold of Helen. "What are you doing?" Helen demanded.

"If we want to enter the Leaky Cauldron, we need to be able to see it," was all Georgia said in reply.

Helen followed her older sister into a small corner shop, which other people didn't seem to be able to see. There was a rusted pole jutting out from over the rounded doorway, on which hung two rusted chains with a sign reading 'The Leaky Cauldron' attached to them.

Once inside, Helen got a proper look around at the inside of the pub. People in cloaks and robes, just like Hermione had told her about, sat around small round tables, chatting. One group of men sat in the corner, playing cards in front of orange, smoking drinks. Helen jumped with her parents when one man's cards exploded, but no one else seemed to even notice. She assumed it was wizarding commonplace for cards to explode.

"Is it you, Miss Granger?" A toothless old man toddled out from behind the shadows of the bar.

Hermione obviously recognized him, because she said, "Hello, Tom."

Tom looked at Helen. "And who might this be? A cousin?" He looked distastefully at Helen's blonde hair. Helen became rather miffed. "I didn't know you were related to the Malfoys.... Miss Granger, aren't you Muggle-born?"

"That's my sister," Hermione said tersely. "Her name's Helen. It's the new Muggle style, you see, to have short, platinum blonde hair...."

"Ah," Tom said. "I see. I presume you're looking for Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley?" Hermione nodded gratefully. "They went in five minutes ago. Should be easy enough to find them."

"Thanks, Tom," Hermione said. Tom nodded and walked away to tend the bar.

"Mum, can I have one of those orange drinks?" Helen asked.

"Um.... Hermione, what are those orange drinks?" Georgia asked.

"Firewhisky. Really strong alcohol content. Erm... why doesn't she try a butterbeer instead?" Hermione suggested.

"But I don't want a butterbeer!" Helen whined. "I want the cool orange drink!"

"Helen, don't throw a tantrum!" Richard warned sharply. "Or you will stay out in London with your aunt like the last time!"

Helen scowled and trudged after Hermione, who led them through a back door to face a brick wall. "Hermione, this is a wall," Helen pointed out.

"Be patient, dear, Hermione knows what she's doing," Georgia said.

Hermione drew her wand and tapped a group of bricks in what Helen believed was a specific pattern. But maybe she's showing off, she thought. Maybe she could just say 'open sesame', and it'd open.

Her thoughts ended abruptly as she stared in wonder at the archway that was forming from the wall. One by one, the bricks moved aside, until instead of staring at a car-infested street or a dingy alleyway, they were watching witches and wizards bustling around, shopping for the strangest things. Quickly, she whipped out her Hogwarts letter from her pocket and stared at it happily. She turned to the second page of the letter, which contained the materials list.

"Mum, why can't I have a broom?" Helen whined.

"I don't know, dear," Georgia said. "But Hermione doesn't have one either."

"But Mum, she told me last year when I asked her about them that Harry and Ron have brooms, and that she could always ride them when she wants to."

Richard began coughing violently. "Excuse me-- ahem-- b-brooms?"

"Dad, broomsticks. Flying broomsticks. Like Harry's Firebolt," Hermione said. Helen giggled.

"Richard," Georgia said in an exasperated tone. "Set a better example for your daughters and learn to be more mature."

"Mum, can I get an owl? I don't want a stupid cat like Crookshanks," Helen said.

Hermione choked in indignation. "Crookshanks is not stupid, thank you very much!"

"Yes he is!" Helen said. "And so is that spew you keep on talking about," she added as an afterthought.

"It's S.P.E.W.!" Hermione said. "Not spew! And it's not stupid. Because house-elves are in a condition of absolute slavery, and they've been brainwashed into thinking that it is the only way to live! This year, I plan to increase human membership by three hundred percent and elf membership by five hundred. Also, our leaflet campaign is in the deficit, so I'll have to do a bit of fundraising... perhaps a knit cap sale...."

"The ones that look like woolly bladders?" a voice said from behind them. Helen spun around and saw a redhead and a boy with messy black hair standing in front of an ice cream shop. A group of people was standing behind them.

"Not woolly bladders!" Hermione snapped angrily. "They're hats, Ron!"

"They look the same to me," Ron said airily.

"Now, Ron." A plump woman with flaming red hair like Ron's walked up to him. Helen supposed she was the Mrs. Weasley Hermione kept on talking about. "Ron, that's hardly polite. I think Hermione's hats are very efficient and warm."

Harry, who so far had been standing against a pole, a tired smile on his face, said, "Thanks for the hat, Hermione." There was a hint of a smirk on his face.

"Of course, Fred and George took it to make copies. Joke Christmas presents, you know... woolly bladder hats," Ron said in a more cheerful voice. Harry gave him an annoyed look. "Well, they did!" Ron said defensively.

A thin, balding man with an enormous smile came up to Georgia and Richard. "Why, it's Georgia and Richard, Molly! Long time no see!"

"Er... yes," Richard said, looking a bit nervous around the overly-happy, bouncing Mr. Weasley.

"Please, we must go out for a drink again, and you can tell us all about compotdoors, like you were going to last time!"

"It's 'computers', Mr. Weasley," Hermione said. "Mum, Dad, we'll be fine."

"Arthur, might I mention that there are more people here than just Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Harry?" Mrs. Weasley said.

Helen's eyes slid to the family standing to the side, looking nervous. The mother was thin and blonde, with a long neck. The father was large and beet-faced, and the son had blond hair plastered to the top of his head, no neck, and an enormous body. "Harry, what are the Dursleys doing here?" Hermione whispered to Harry.

"Er... well, remember what I told you about what happened back in early July? And how they decided to have us all go to the Burrow? Well," he dropped his voice, "they're too scared to stay alone at the Burrow," he finished derisively.

Richard cleared his throat. "This is Helen," he said. "Our younger daughter. She's starting at Hogwarts this year."

"Hermione, why didn't you tell us about her?" Ron asked curiously.

"I did tell you about her!" Hermione said indignantly. "Back in our first year!"

"Oh," Harry said. "Nice to meet you," he said to Helen. "I'm-"

"You're Harry James Potter," Helen said. "And you're Ronald Bilius Weasley. I know. Hermione told me about both of you." She looked over at the red-headed girl standing behind them. "And you're Ginny Weasley."

"Er... okay," Ron said nervously.

"Ah, yes, Harry, Ron, we need to have a bit of a talk," Richard said. He drew the two boys away.

"Dad!" Hermione hissed. Richard ignored her.

"I wonder what that's about," Mr. Weasley said. He turned to Helen and scrutinized her. "Why, Hermione, she looks just like a younger Draco Malfoy!"

"Er... it's a Muggle trend," Hermione said.

"Amazing!" Mr. Weasley said. "I might have to try that at work!"

"You will do no such thing!" Mrs. Weasley snapped, looking very much like a saber-toothed tiger.

"Of course not, Molly," Mr. Weasley stuttered.

The Mr. Dursley cleared his throat. "So, er, Weasley... who is this Draco Malfoy you're talking about? A famous actor? Football player?" He was obviously wanting for conversation.

Ginny Weasley laughed humorlessly. "Draco Malfoy? No...."

"Did a Weasley just say my name?" a voice drawled. Helen spun around to find herself staring at platinum blond hair. A person who could only be Draco Malfoy was standing there, arms crossed over his chest, a sneer firmly in place on his face. "Why, Weasley, I didn't think you even remembered my first name!"

"I don't think you remember my first name at all," Ginny snarled. Amazingly, neither Mrs. Weasley nor Mr. Weasley chastised her for her tone.

Malfoy stared down at Helen. "That would be my sister, Helen," Hermione said coldly. "She's starting at Hogwarts this year."

"I would ask you what happened to her hair, Granger, but I won't for fear that she'll stop doing her hair that way and end up with a mop on her head like you do."

Georgia, who had been staring avidly at a display for the duration of the conversation, looked back at the group and seemed surprised that Malfoy was there. "Why, Hermione, this boy's dressed his hair in the new trend!" she said. "Except for the gel.... Helen, where did you get the gel? I thought we ran out last Tuesday."

"I... uh...." Helen said.

"I gave it to her," Hermione said. "I got it from... Harry for Christmas, and I never used it, so...." Both daughters nodded avidly.

"Well," Malfoy said. "I have to get going." He smirked at Georgia. "My father sends his regards," he said, bowing mockingly. Still smirking, he disappeared into the crowd. Helen wasn't quite sure what to think of his behavior. Hermione, however, was livid.

Georgia didn't seem to have noticed the sarcasm. "What a nice boy," she said fondly. "So gentlemanly. Hermione, you exaggerated horribly in your stories."

Helen and Hermione looked at each other, identical looks of horror on their faces. "Mum, he was sarcastic," Hermione said.

"Nonsense." Georgia glared at them. "Girls, take him as an example."

Helen stayed silent, but Hermione drew herself to her full height and said stonily, "I will not take Draco Malfoy as an example, unless if it is a bad one. Mum, you have no idea what he does at school... what his father does!"

"Hermione Jane Granger, the only reason I don't know is because you never told your father or me anything that your headmaster didn't force you to tell us! So I will tell you to do what I think is right, unless if you start changing your attitude about your parents!" Georgia barked with rare anger. "You barely said a word to us all summer! You weren't even the one who told us about that day in June... no, Mr. Dumbledore had to send us a letter informing us of your exploits! If your father and I didn't know that you are a smart and responsible girl, we would have pulled you straight out of Hogwarts and burned Helen's letter!"

The Weasleys had backed away to respect the Grangers' privacy, but Mrs. Dursley marched straight up to Georgia and said, "You can pull a child out of that school?" Helen thought her face was far too eager.

"Generally, yes," Mr. Weasley said. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley looked at each other. "But not in Harry's case, if that's what you're wondering." Their faces visibly dropped. "You see, it was in his parents' will that he would attend Hogwarts."

"His parents had a will?" Mr. Dursley hissed vehemently. "They had a will and we were never notified of this?"

"Well, I wouldn't know why," Mr. Weasley said, a trace of annoyance in his voice. "But I remember James was surprised to hear that his sister-in-law... I suppose you, had even married, let alone had a child." Helen found this quite funny, and had to work hard to stifle her giggles.

Mr. Dursley snorted derisively. "Probably had nothing to give us anyway, Petunia." Mrs. Dursley nodded in agreement, her eyes narrowed.

"On the contrary," Mr. Weasley said. "I remember a large portion of the will was for you. The Weasleys are distant cousins of the Potters, you know. All wizarding families are related distantly."

Before the Dursleys could retaliate, Richard came back, towing two very embarrassed boys. "We, uh... ahem... we're done," Ron muttered. Harry nodded in agreement.

Richard cleared his throat. "So... what did we miss?"