Hi everyone, I'm Hermione Granger

Well, I dare to say that my hobby switching bodies, time periods and worlds still hasn’t changed. It was my third month at that school, and almost everyone knows by now that a seemingly inconspicuous book has appeared among the Weasley twins’ assortment. Alright, maybe inconspicuous is not really the right word for it, considering the fact that the stuff they sell can never be considered simple, let alone safe… “The secrets of Hogwarts” was that book’s title, and there was no author mentioned. “So what?” you might ask. “Big deal, a book without an author.” But it’s not just that. This world’s backward people probably won’t understand, but I’ll give you a word that could bring light into this situation: “ongoing”. New chapters are constantly added to that book. Chapters written and enchanted by one incredible person, a magnificent, insanely smart, but also quite modest individual. A mysterious author and wizard. I think it’s not that hard to try and guess who exactly that might be. And the text in there wasn’t about any passages, hidden behind tapestries, no, but rather about the people who were hiding behind them… and what they were doing together. Yes, a real collection of fanfictions, nothing about made-up individuals, but the castle’s inhabitants themselves! Almost all of them were already mentioned in there. Maybe it wouldn’t have become this serious, if I had just continued writing detective stories, but… they slowly, okay, maybe not that slowly, shifted into a category that wasn’t meant for minors, if you know what I mean. I finished a few early ideas, then got a few new ones… and when the teachers, too, became part of them, that was where it really started: the books were flying off the shelves like hotcakes, their content immediately becoming something like an underground sensation, and entire detective teams were formed, in order to search for the nimble writer of these masterpieces. Haha, well, good luck to them. The books were enchanted with Protean charms, meaning there’s no “server” here, they can just be edited from anywhere, if one knows the password they’re protected with. And the texts are rewritten using the Quick-Quotes Quill on my laptop, because you didn’t think I’d be writing it all by hand? Ha! No way! That laptop’s, of course, not the fastest and the most modern one, but still better than nothing… Obviously, It all started with my favorite character Harry and then… Well, usually, I prefer not to deviate from my favorite pairings, but after having made the first victims’ faces turn beet-red, I decided that it would be very interesting to see the reactions of a few more. This is how it all began. Initially, the money was pouring in just from the selling alone, but once Blaise Zabini figured out that it would help him boost his reputation and maybe get some girl, he offered to pay for some “advertising”. The twins didn’t think twice and used that chance to pocket a fairly decent, maybe even obscene amount from him. I don’t know what kind of person he really is, but his book version turned out so enchantingly gallant that it resulted in more than one girl falling for him. Whatever, I couldn’t care less. A satisfied customer will come again, and this is what matters. In the end, half of Slytherin and several people from other houses started to pay a monthly subscription fee. I didn’t promote anything blatantly obvious nor whitewashed or blackened anything in my texts, in other words, didn’t engage in yellow press lies. To be honest, I don’t really care about what to call it at all, so if someone can find any benefit in it and is willing to pay money — the better for us. Hermione herself was also an enchanting, intriguing, skillful, incredibly cunning, and smart person, by the way, someone with whom you can spend entire days talking. The most quoted phrases, the cleverest ideas, and most tempting looks all belonged to her. In the book, at least. I was forced to fend off some fans, but also found a few people to exchange interesting conversations with, and a bunch of admirers, fascinated by what I had to say — I’ve always known how to tell stories. One of my most unexpected conversationalists turned out to be Theodore Nott. Of course, there wasn’t a lot about him in the canon, but I did have my opinion of him, though, a different one… As for Malfoy, he, unfortunately, resulted to be quite a spoiled brat, indeed, which I found out rather quickly. One day, I was sitting in the library, once again convincing Harry that he was a fool for thinking that he owed someone something. These conversations were so frequent, they had already become something similar to a tradition. But despite all my efforts and eloquence, it was impossible to get some sense into that “hero’s” head. And this time was no exception, either. Tired of repeating the same thing over and over, I took a piece of parchment, handed it to him and ordered him to write down a list of one hundred wishes. “Just start with ‘I want’ and so on, got it?” “Huh? But why?” The boy-who-lived-but-still-hadn’t-learned-how-to-think looked at me with surprise. He couldn’t understand what the deal with me was and what I was trying to achieve. “What do you mean, why?” I asked him sarcastically. Harry’s wall of heroism, or, in my opinion, stupidity, was not only impenetrable, but also guarded by a whole military unit twenty-four-seven. “Just tell me what you want.” “I want…” He paused. “Can I really name any wish I have?... And do I have to say it out loud?” He tried to buy some time by pestering me with questions, but I just nodded. “I don’t want to be seen as a hero. That’s wi-...” “That’s fine, go on,” I said firmly. “Go on?” “Your wishes! What else do you want?” “To get better at brewing potions.” “Next.” “I want… well, I want to get better at casting spells, too… I want us to have a better teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts… and…” He hesitated. “And for my parents to be alive. Is that okay, as well? I know it’s impossible…” “Of course it's okay! Go on.” And this was when the dam burst: “I don’t want to go back to my aunt’s house for the holidays! I want to live with Sirius! I want Snape to stop hating me! I want to know a little more about my parents! I want…” “Okay, that’s enough!” I stopped him. Then, a slight wave of my wand brought all his expressed wishes on the parchment. “There, the beginning is laid. Go write more.” “But…” He hesitated again. I let out an imaginary sigh, but still asked: “What is it this time?” “Do I really have to write everything down?” “Of course you do! It’s only for you, you don’t need to show it to anyone!” I was about to continue my tirade, but Harry’s face suddenly brightened up, and he quickly said goodbye, running out of the library. This was confidentiality for you. “Oh, for some reason I was sure you were more interested in Weasley… But I applaud your choice, Granger, a hero is a much better catch than a blood traitor,” I heard a mocking voice, coming from the shelf nearby. Turning around, I saw Malfoy with his most detestable smirk. “Malfoy!” I exclaimed joyfully and, without letting him get a word in, continued. “You’re just the one I needed!... Sit down!” I cleared a spot across from me. “Tea?” Not even waiting for the bewildered boy’s answer, I called the Hogwarts’ house elf and asked him to set the table for us. Buns, mint tea for me, and the black tea that was so heavily adored by the British, for him… I can’t stand black tea. Not tea in general, only the black one. Tea, after all, is the essence of our fleeting lives. In the end, the utterly shocked Malfoy did sit down at the table and even took a sip of tea. Spitting out his verbal poison, in the process, though, but that didn’t bother me, since I had no intention to argue or listen to him, anyway. “So,” I began, having taken a sip myself. “Malfoy, your father is the head of the Hogwarts’ Board of Governors, am I right?” “Well, you could say that.” “Then please explain to me why there’s still a ghost teaching at this school.” I had placed a confidential charm before having made that remark, just in case. “You should rather address that question to your highly esteemed headmaster,” he replied, grimacing. “Don’t mess with me, Malfoy. I know perfectly well that the Ministry and the Board of Governors can hire and fire teachers.” “This is none of your business, Granger, don’t you think so?” he said sarcastically. “Haha, oh, but it very much is! It’s about my education, after all!” I didn’t feel like I was just wasting my time. In fact, I already had a good speech prepared for that matter, but unexpectedly wanted to get tricky. Malfoy was an aristocrat, after all, and with French roots to boot, so everything should work out. “L’histoire est un sujet trop important pour être balancé! Nous devons apprendre des erreurs du passé pour ne pas les répéter à l’avenir. Et en plus, l’histoire est politique. Ta famille basiquement gagne sa vie grâce à la politique. Si tu ne veux pas penser aux autres, pense au moins à toi!” I was nervous. Several times, I felt like losing my way, making too long pauses, speaking too fast now and then, and on top of that, I was still unsure whether I was saying everything right. At one point, I even had the thought that what I did was highly inappropriate. But it was too late… though, it would be funny if he said now “What? I don’t speak French.”, an idea that was making me even more frightened. But Malfoy didn’t disappoint me. Even though it seemed that my fiery speech went unnoticed, since everything he said was a bewildered: “Tu parles français?” “Oui, et l’ukrainien et le russe aussi.” What a shame that English couldn’t be added to that list any longer. Yes, I did achieve my goal, for my English is at a native’s level now, but… not quite what I imagined it to be. “Anyway, write to your father that we want Professor Beans to resign,” I returned to English. “We can gather signatures, voice our opinions, and take photos, if you get what I’m talking about. Everything to get a good teacher! Hope to hear some good news from you soon,” I added and, having bid farewell, left the still baffled Malfoy behind. And this was where the story unfortunately ended. I genuinely believed that Malfoy would talk to his father, otherwise, I wouldn’t have wasted my precious time and energy on him. But, apparently, I thought too highly of that guy. However, I did get something incredibly great out of it: he simply started avoiding me. The moment he appeared in my field of vision or made another one of his snide remarks, I immediately asked if he had any good news for me and insisted on him telling me when they would arrive, after hearing his negative answer. But one time wasn’t enough. He couldn’t stop himself, constantly coming up with new ways to taunt Harry, who was completely dense concerning sarcasm. One quiet remark, however, brought an end to it: “You’re a worthless heir, Malfoy, if you’re not able to dispose of a single one dead school professor! Even a mudblood like me could handle it faster,” I said. No clue if my manipulation worked, but the trolling completely stopped, so at least, I saved our hero’s delicate mental state. As for the rest, I’ll manage on my own. I can just send an owl to Lucius myself, can’t I?