Harry Potter Muggle Magic

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My name is Martin Granger, and all my life I have been a muggle. My parents were muggles, my older brother is a muggle, and my younger sister is a muggle. Their children are also muggles. I attended muggle schooling, had a muggle job (quite the successful one, I may add) married a beautiful muggle woman by the name of Ann, and had one child, a daughter we named Hermione.

That's when it all changed. Our daughter turned out to be a witch, and Ann and I were damned proud of that fact. Our entire family accepted her for what she was, and when she began attending Hogwarts at the tender age of eleven, I wished for her all the best. The next seven years were a roller coaster ride of raging hormones, boy problems, homework deadlines, fanatical dark wizards bent on destroying both the wizarding world and the muggle world. Somehow, I kept up house payments, a fulltime job, while making sure my daughter was safe battling evil. I- we- wanted so badly to protect her during the battles that were waged in her world- the one Ann and I rarely ever saw.

Suffice to say, we were not oblivious to all the goings on. Although we got normal mail, inside the drawer in the kitchen were various newspaper clippings from the wizarding newspaper, The Daily Prophet. Through Hermione's intervention, and a small fee, an owl would bring us the paper at least once week in exchange for a short rest and a dish of water. If that's all that was required of us to make sure our daughter was safe we'd do it a thousand times over. Like our daughter, I'm quite the avid reader myself, and many a time I would curl up on the couch and read my daughter's schoolbooks from cover to cover. The current one on my bedside table was a ragged copy of Quidditch Through The Ages. Despite all their shortcomings, I secretly root for the Chudley Cannons. Ann has become quite enraptured with Holyhead Harpies.

We knew extensively about our daughter's best friends too. Her red headed crush Ronald Weasley, one of many in a brood of jolly redheads. Ann and I had met the elder Weasley's, and thought them to be fine, upstanding people. We haven't met all of their children, just the youngest son and daughter, and very, very, briefly their twins. Hermione constantly talked about how Fred and George were always getting into trouble, and Ron was an arrogant git. She got along quite well with the only Weasley girl, a charming young lady named Ginny.

Her second best friend, is the famous Harry Potter. Truth be told, Ann and I knew nothing about his legacy, his supposed 'destiny' as the chosen one. When we met him, all I could see was a scared young man with an insurmountable weight on his shoulders. He seemed aptly attached to Ginny, like our Hermione was attached to Ron. Over time we learned of Voldemort, for I think its quite silly to keep saying over and over 'he who must not be named' or 'dark lord' like he's a cheap knock off of a Star Wars villain.

Voldemort was no pushover either. From Hermione's descriptions, this was the man who'd brutally murdered Harry's parents, and was instrumental with the torturing of the parents of a fellow classmate and very good friend of his. Ann could not help but weep when Hermione confided that Neville's parents would spend the rest of their lives in a magical hospital in the mental ward. I hadn't even met this Voldemort, but I wanted to kill him. I hated being left out of the loop of our daughter's world.

Over the summer of her seventeenth birthday, everything changed. She spent long hours in her room, we knew the school had been attacked and the wonderful headmaster had died valiantly. Dumbledore, I believe his name was. We figured that Hermione was just distraught over the attack on the school, and the pain her friend Harry was going through. We heard they were very close. Then, one early afternoon she came downstairs, bag in hand, fully dressed, wand in her hand. Ann and I were having breakfast when she came into the kitchen. I smiled, and offered her some waffles.

It was the last thing I remember doing. In was in those seconds, that our daughter modified our memories and has us discretely located to Sydney for safekeeping, while she went on his year long journey with Harry and Ron to defeat Voldemort. All I know from the story for now is that the wizard is gone- and I say good riddance, but during the battles of the war, a lot of her friends were killed however. Hermione grew distant somewhat, spending all her time with Harry and Ron, and then just exclusively with Ron for a long time after that. I knew she had a crush on him, so it did not come as a shock to me when they got engaged.

Ron came by one night, in badly dressed muggle clothes, red faced and hiccupping when he asked permission to wed my daughter. Here was a boy who grew into a strong young man and powerful wizard, who in his own way had protected my daughter since her first year of school. He respected her, treated her well, and was extremely polite to boot. How could I not say yes?

The following summer, when they had both past their eighteenth year, Ann and I were present at a quiet wizarding wedding outside Ottery St. Catchpole.

That was nearly six months ago now. Ann and I continue to live and work in Bristol as dentists, Hermione and Ron setting up their lives as newlyweds. We got an owl a few weeks ago, stating she and Ron would like to visit sometime, and Ann was already planning for a small party upon their arrival. Their marriage was good, and we were thrilled a week or so later, receiving another letter saying that Harry had finally proposed to little Ginny. Shortly after that, Ann and I began making plans to stay over in the wizarding world for that ceremony too. Hermione said she'd get us rooms at the Leaky Cauldron, but Ron insisted we would all stay at his family's estate called The Burrow. Quite the amusing name, I had planned to send Ron an owl stating that was a generous offer, and if his parents would mind having more people staying over.

We never did get a reply back from that owl. We were worried at first, for whenever we wrote, Ron was always so prompt in writing back, his poor owl nearly had heart attacks flying back and forth from house to house. Time passed, and our lives continued. Though we were muggles, we still had plenty fun things to do, and plenty of time to be with each other. Retirement a not so far off dream anymore was slowly coming over the horizon.

"Dear, I think we deserve to treat ourselves. Perhaps we could take up a holiday in America, or Paris? I've always wanted to go there." Ann said. The two of us were watching the nightly news, while I scanned through a book entitled Magical Herbs and Fungi. It was one of Hermione's old schoolbooks, mostly outdated, but interesting nonetheless.

"That sounds like a good idea. We never really had a proper honeymoon. We eloped, remember?" I turned the page, and began to read the first two paragraphs on the section dealing with monkshood and the properties for the wolf's bane potion, when I heard a loud crack coming from the outer garden walls. It wasn't very loud, but not soft either. If I had to put a name to it, I could only describe it was a kid throwing a rock at the window. Ann reached over, turning down the volume on the television and went into the kitchen.

" I don't see anyone out there Martin." She said, placing her hands on her hips. I set down the book and peeked over the edge of the couch. The afternoon was melting into evening, and sun was sinking slowly, giving the place a soft, warm rosy peach-like glow about the place. I sighed, and reached to pick up the book again.

"Probably just some kids. The Parker boys or that alley cat that's been hanging around looking for scraps of food." I suggested. My wife shot me a withering look. She hated those terror tots and resented the stray cat even less.

" If it was those brats, they'd better left my garden alone. If I find so much as one flower out of place, I'm going right over there and giving that horrid Parker woman a piece of my-"

A soft knock at the front door. It stopped for half a second, before starting up again. Quick, rapt knocks. Whoever it was wanted in immediately. Ann began to get the door, but I hopped up in order to beat her too it. If it was the Parker boys or Malinda Parker the mother I at least wanted to get to the door first, if only to diffuse an extremely hostile situation entirely. People shouldn't get so steamed up about little things like a wrecked garden- but I wouldn't dare say anything like that to Ann, naturally. I took a deep breath, and pulled open the door.

What I saw, took my breath away. Harry Potter, supported on the left by Ron, and on the right by Hermione was doubled over in the doorway. His hair was matted with sweat, his eyes were closed, and his skin was sweaty and waxy looking. Ron grunted with the strain of propping the wounded man up, nearly leaning against the doorframe, his face blotched. Harry's shirt was caked with dried blood, and his left leg was crudely wrapped in bandages. Ron's had cuts and bruises on his face, the same pinched, hallowed looks about his features. I took in the boy's injuries, when my eyes fell onto my daughter.

The last time I had seen Hermione, she looked clean and crisp in her wedding gown, as I prepared to walk her down the aisle. Now her clothes were tattered and it looked as though they had been slightly burned. Her forehead had a large cut, and her legs shook badly. She too, had a rough time supporting Harry, who shot me a look of apology.

"M- Mr. Granger, w- we're so sorry, but we had n- no where else to go. None of us- h- had enough strength to ap- apparate."

I knew appraiton was the wizard version of teleportation, and that it took great concentration for one person, much less three people at the same time, and the process was doubly difficult if the body was under stress. Hermione shifted Harry's weight a bit, and looked at me with a mixture of horror, regret, and pity.

"Daddy, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to come…. But… we're so tired…"

I shouted for my wife, who came to my side almost instantly. It was a good thing too, for that's when Ron and Hermione's strength gave out, loosening their grip on Harry, who would have fallen face first, had I not caught him. Ron sagged in the doorway, but was able to drag himself into the house, and slid to the floor just inside the entryway. Ann took Hermione inside where she put her on the couch while I half carried, half walked a weakened Harry into the kitchen, getting him into a chair.

"What in the bloody hell happened?" Ann demanded. She didn't mean to sound so harsh, but this was neither the time nor place for formalities. I busied myself with getting rags, bowls of water, and clean clothes. Ron wiped his nose with sleeve, eyes cast down to the floor.

"Death Eaters," he began slowly "Are dark wizards. They mostly followed you-know-who. The three of us fought em many times before. Anyways, we were ambushed."

"Ron, I thought they were either dead or taken back to Azkaban." I said, realizing only after the words left my mouth, how stupid they must have sounded. Hermione sighed deeply.

"Dad, you know that doesn't stop them. It was just… really… bad… timing on our part."

"How could you have possibly have known that, Hermione? The lot of you are barely out of school. I doubt you'd be expected to have the complete sense of more experienced witches and wizards." Ann said, going to her side with a bowl of water and a handful of rags. I took it upon myself to see to the boys in the kitchen, while Ann gave Hermione her privacy in the living room. Ron barely had enough strength to get into the kitchen, he used the wall to push himself along.

"I never should have let this happen." Harry said, every word coming out taking great effort. My son-in-law gave him a sharp look.

"D- don't say that Harry. None of us- you hear me? None of us were ready. We were caught off guard, that's all!"

"Oh Ron, we're the 'golden trio.' We can't be caught off guard. Ever." Harry snappily shot back. I sensed a tense situation brewing. In the other room, Ann and Hermione were speaking in hushed tones. I shook my head in order to gather my thoughts.

"Alright boys, off with those old clothes. Stay put, while I try to find something."

Without a word, the two of them began peeling off their bloody shirts, and undershirts. Wordlessly, I collected the torn garments and dumped them down the laundry chute. Despite being two of the most powerful wizards of their generation, and both veterans of a massive magical war, I only saw two hurt, angry, boys. I suppose being a father myself, and of a girl no less made me attuned to such sufferings.

"I'm so sorry about Hermione, Mr. Granger. I never meant any harm to come to her." Ron whispered hoarsely. I nodded, I knew it wasn't his fault, although directing my anger at someone for a while had crossed my mind. Harry, who I heard had grown up with his aunt and uncle, and truly horrid people was able to clean his own wounds himself. He managed to take some Tylenol we had in the cupboard, and constantly kept inquiring about Hermione in the other room. Ron, however was a bit afraid of the muggle chemicals, like iodine, and gauze that I had brought. He didn't cry out, like most people do when I nearly dumped the entire bottle over a large gash and began waiting for the old blood to fester out of it. He only flinched slightly when I began to wrap the bandages to bind the wound.

"Thank you, Mr. Granger."

"Not a problem Ron. You and Harry get some sleep."

I heard the rustle of couch, Hermione was probably laying down too. Ann had her mangled clothes in her hands as well. She disappeared down the hall, and returned with a nightgown for her, and some old clothes for the boys. I checked over both boys wounds before stepping into the hallway to give them privacy so they could change and to speak with my wife.

" I got Hermione calmed down. She used some sort of charm to put her into some sort of relaxed state. She's resting a bit, but her fever is high, and I'm worried about those cuts and bruises. We don't know what they were attacked with."

I nodded. "Looks like a painful bit of dark magic too me. I'm going to try to contact one of their people. I think I have some spare parchment and a pen by the bed."

We also had an incredibly tiny owl upstairs as well. For Ann's birthday, Mr. Weasley had brought the little guy over via the fireplace transportation called floo network. Under special arrangements, we were allowed to have our home connected to the floo network. It could only be used every once in a while, including holidays and special events provided a written admission from the Minister Of Magic, who happened to be Hermione's friend, so I think we were given more perks than others. It paid to have very good friends in very high places didn't it? I went upstairs, turned on the light in our bedroom, and sat down on my side of the bed. Our little brown barn owl we named Bookworm was eating some dried fruit and paid me little mind. I reached for my glasses, and then opened the drawer. My hands neatly fell onto some old parchment, and I found a pen laying by the lamp. I steadied my trembling hand a bit in order to write a painful message.

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,_

_I know you'll no doubt be worried when you get this message, but I feel it is of the utmost importance. Ann and I have found the children. I don't know all the details, but they're a bit banged up and are currently with us. We'd greatly appreciate it if you could come as soon as possible._

_Yours,_

_Martin A. Granger_

I folded and sealed the letter, remembering at the last moment to hastily scribble The Burrow's address on it before going to Bookworm's cage. I tied the note to him, and gave him a sugar cube for trouble of flying so late at night.

"The Weasley's ol' boy. I bet you know the place by heart by now. Then again, have you ever gotten lost?" I asked the bird. He looked at me, almost as if he were annoyed by the question and flew off into the night. To most people, writing on parchment, communicating by owls, and having people come through your fireplace isn't normal, but we are not normal people. I may not be a wizard, but we intend to support our daughter and come as close to the magical world as we can. I had barely straightened out some things in our room, when I heard two loud cracks coming from downstairs.

"Martin! The Weasley's have arrived!" I heard Ann yell up from the kitchen. I pushed myself off the bed, cleaning my glasses and prepared to meet the feisty senior redheads. I'm sure Molly would wipe up a wonderful potion, and soon all would be well.

It was the last good thought I had for some time. In fact, after I hit the bottom step of the stairs I did not realize that this would be the final moments I'd spend in my house, in the muggle world for quite some time and that Ann and I would be part of a fantastic journey battling powerful foes and making wonderful, if slightly unusual friends, and feeling the bitter loss as well.

_A/N: Chapter 1 is done. The Weasley's/Granger's are attacked upon leaving, and Martin and Ann learn that there truly is another sort of magic when the life of a child is concerned. Please leave a review_


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Harry Potter, Adventure, Family