The Other Granger Girl

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fan Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Lucy is the exact oposite of her twin sister, Hermione - outgoing, loud, and not afraid of anything. When Hermione goes to Hogwarts, however, Lucy is devestated, and cuts off all contact. But when a mysterious letter arrives 5 years later, that changes her life forever, how will she cope being thrust into the world of magic, lies and deceit she had always secretly longed for?


Submitted: November 02, 2012

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Submitted: November 02, 2012



Hermione was sitting at our small wooden desk when I walked into our purple bedroom, settling myself down on my own of the two beds against either wall. I cleared my throat, believing she hadn't noticed me, but her hand continued to scribble furiously across the paper with a ballpoint pen. I tried again, a little louder, but my twin gave no response. I groaned, frustrated, and walked out again, yelling as I left, "Mum says dinner's ready!" and stomping my way down the stairs to the dining room table, where my father sat, reading yesterday's news. The TV was playing in the background; some soap opera I didn't recognise.

"Hi, dad," I greeted, slipping into my chair. He grunted a reply, turning the page.

Hermione didn't appear that night for dinner.

When mum went upstairs to check on her, I slipped after her. If I had been the one staying in my room, mum would never have let me get away with it. But Hermione had always been our parents' favourite. I was just Lucy Margaret Granger, the wild one, the outcast; and was reminded of it every day.

Although I resembled my sister, I was still the odd one out in my family, having deep blue eyes instead of the deep brown I knew I should have, like mum, dad and Hermione. My hair wasn't frizzy like hers, or curly like mum's, but straight, easily controllable, so much unlike my personality. I was an adventurous child, but my parents thought I should be quiet, well behaved, and studious. In other words, they thought I should be like Hermione.

Mum reached the top of the stairs; myself close behind, and pushed open the door to our bedroom. Hermione was just setting down her pen, and turned, beaming, to face mum.

"I've just finished it!" she informed her, smiling. Mum looked a little confused, and I wasn't surprised. I was too.

"Finished what, darling?" She never calls me darling, I thought jealously.

"My summer project! The one on medieval Britain," Hermione explained importantly. I rolled my eyes at her unbreakable ego. The summer project was something she set herself every year. I knew my parents would love for me to do it as well, but I could never be bothered to do all the research.

"Well done, darling!" mum exclaimed, kissing Hermione gently on each cheek as my sister glowed with pride. I turned away. Mum would never praise me like that.

I sighed as I recalled the memory from the beginning of the holidays. I pushed it aside firmly, checking my cheap plastic watch for the time. Mum had warned me to be back before five o'clock, or else. I had groaned at that. Once again, mum was discriminating against me. If Hermie ever stayed out past five, she wouldn't get in trouble.

I had ten minutes before I needed to be home, so jumping out of the tree I had climbed several hours before, I landed lightly on the balls of my feet. Some other children at the park watched me in awe as I brushed my hair off my shoulder, allowing myself a small smile. Not everyone can jump down from ten feet up a tree and not get injured, I reflected as I took off jogging towards home, my blonde hair bouncing in a ponytail on the back of my head.

I arrived home with seconds to spare, and received a firm telling off from mum. "There's a letter for you upstairs!" mum called as I entered the lilac bedroom I shared with my twin sister.

Luckily, Hermione was not in sight, so I collapsed gratefully onto my bed, with its old patchwork duvet cover that was arranged messily in an imitation of my hair in the morning, a stark contrast to Hermione's pristinely placed covers. I sat up, looking around, a smile on my face. Home.

It was easy for a stranger to see which areas of the spacious room I occupied, due to piles of mess that lingered in corners. One contained school books; another was laundry – it was uncertain as to whether it was clean or not – and various other things, such as paper, pens and discarded dolls.

Still grinning, I stood up and walked over to the desk, picking up the letter that lay there as I passed and went to sit back down on my bed.

The writing and postal stamp immediately gave away the sender; it was my Aunt Monica, who lived in Cornwall and was always happy to talk to me about anything and everything. She claimed to be a novelist, but I had never read anything she had written. Aunt Monica had told me it was 'adult fiction', and 'inappropriate for a ten-year-old'. But now I was eleven, and nearly twelve; practically a teenager, and that was only one step away from being an adult. Maybe she'll let me read them now! I considered excitedly, ripping open the envelope and pulling out the letter. It was a short one.

Dearest Lucy,

I hope you are well. The ducks are loving their new home in my garden pond! I have some important news for you, should you have not already received it. Your sister, Hermione, has been accepted at a special boarding school, and your parents have asked me if I would like you to come down and visit me, here in Cornwall. Please reply as soon as possible!

Best wishes,

Aunt Monica x

I sat back against the wall, confused. Boarding school? Hermie hasn't applied to any boarding schools! And wouldn't she have told me, so we could go together? Yes, we don't get on very well, but we're still sisters! Lucy felt betrayed. Why would she do this to me?

It was later that day, at dinner, that I had my answer.

"Mum, look what came in the post today!" Hermione exclaimed when everyone was seated at the table, brandishing a yellowed envelope with green writing on the front. I carried on eating, ignoring her.

"What's that you've got there?" mum asked, reaching for the envelope. Hermione handed it over, grinning as mum pulled out the letter and read it through. And read it again. She showed it to dad worriedly, who also read it. I glanced up. The silence was concerning me. Mum cleared her throat.

"Well, darling, if you want to go to this school…" she began. I could tell she was unsure of how to finish, but didn't care; the feeling of betrayal was returning. Hermione nodded, her eyes shining.

"I think it's a wonderful opportunity, mum," she said earnestly. I glared at her, standing up.

"I'm going to go upstairs," I announced, not bothering to wait for an answer, as angry tears crept into my eyes. If she wants to hurt me, let her, I thought savagely, as I penned a reply to Aunt Monica. I can hurt her more.

Next time:

"Who's there?" a male voice slurred, as I scrambled backwards. A black robed figure appeared out of the darkness, stumbling, obviously drunk.

"'ey, look 'ere! It's that girl from the Prophet!" another voice intoned, as the rest of the men came into my field of vision. This was really not a very good idea, I decided firmly, glancing behind myself. I was still at least fifty meters from the end of the alley. There was no way I was going to make it with my bad ankle. Definitely a bad idea.

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