Doesn't count

Chapter 1

Hermione knew they would soon feast—if only she could get Mrs. Cole out of her big, frizzy hair, that is. But that was no problem. She had learned quite a few tricks after experimenting with her previously discovered magical abilities. Today, though, she would need to buy a couple of sleeping pills. Not that she had trouble sleeping at night. Oh no, she supposed she'd sleep rather well when she gets the opportunity to munch on her well-earned turkey leg surrounded by her group of freaks, and of course, it wouldn't be complete without some underage drinking paired with some hash.

"Michael, mate, I've got to go now, and I bet you need to too. I thought I heard your mum calling you earlier." She faked an apologetic smile, "Perhaps we could meet again tomorrow? Same time?"

"Huh? But it's barely four in the afternoon, Mione'! We barely got to chat and play." Michael whined. 

"Well, my aunt ordered me to run some errands, and I believe I won't make it there if I don't excuse myself now. Tell you what? I'll bring a friend tomorrow, and we could hang at your place all afternoon." 

"Well, my ma sure seemed to like you. And I mean A LOT. I'd reckon she'd let us bring a third party over if I begged her for it. You're my first ever friend here since 'ave come to London. Ma says I need to avoid bad company, whatever that means. And if that's your friend, I'm sure she'll approve.

'I guess stealing those clothes from the charity bin was worth it after all,' she thought. The pristine sundress and polished Mary Janes she'd pilfered certainly helped her blend in with the more affluent crowd at the park. It was amazing how a change of clothes could alter people's perceptions.

"That's brilliant, Michael. I'll see you tomorrow then," Hermione said, her tone saccharine sweet. She gave a small wave as she turned to leave, her mind already racing with plans for their next meeting.

As she walked away, her cheerful demeanor vanished, replaced by a look of focused determination. She had work to do before tomorrow's rendezvous. First, she needed to brief one of her team members, who would accompany her to Michael's house. Lizzie would do nicely; she had a knack for charming adults and could keep Michael distracted while Hermione snooped around.

Hermione made her way through the winding streets of London, expertly navigating the less savory neighborhoods. She knew these back alleys like the back of her hand, each turn and hidden nook a potential escape route or meeting spot for her little gang.

As she approached Wool's Orphanage, she spotted one of her lookouts—a scrawny boy named Tony—perched on a nearby rooftop. He gave her a subtle nod, signaling that the coast was clear. Mrs. Cole wasn't prowling about, which meant Hermione could slip in unnoticed.

Once inside, Hermione headed straight for her hiding spot—a loose floorboard under her bed where she kept her most prized possessions. She pulled out a small notebook and began jotting down the details of her encounter with Michael, along with her plans for tomorrow's visit.

As she wrote, a wicked grin spread across her face. Poor, naive Michael had no idea what he was in for. But that was the way of the world, wasn't it? The clever preyed on the gullible, and Hermione was determined to be the cleverest of them all.

She had learned early on that in this harsh world, you either manipulated or were manipulated. And Hermione Granger was no one's pawn. "I'll have Beatrice obtain those pills then," she planned with much excitement. Having a dealer for a friend was really helpful—well, sometimes. She wished they had met under different circumstances, and she wouldn't turn into a nervous wreck whenever Beatrice went missing for days unnoticed. Unlike her, the teenager was not forced to be bound to the orphanage by the matron's hawk-like eyes and scathing attention. Hermione doubted whether Mrs. Cole even knew if Beatrice stayed at Wool's.