The Queen of Hogwarts
written by Hermione Jean Malfoy
When a future queen of England finds that she is a muggle-born witch, will she prove fit to rule the throne while keeping touch with her magical abilities? This book is in progress.
Last Updated
05/31/21
Chapters
6
Reads
767
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
The night my letter arrived was the worst night of my life.
I remember it clearly. I was sitting with my family, eating a quiet dinner, when a bird, an owl to be more precise, swooped from the halls. How he had gotten in was a mystery; the doors were guarded by our most able soldiers, the windows never opened and secure with bullet-proof glass. All I knew was that it came.
It landed in my half-finished chicken soup bowl, shaking its feathers haughtily and looking at me expectingly. Tied to its leg was a sealed letter with a strange crest on it. I had never seen it before. I wondered what it could be.
My father insisted it be checked for poison before read. It was, and there was none. I opened alone, away from prying, eagerly watching eyes.
And I found I had been accepted into a school called Hogwarts. It was a school of magic. We thought it was a hoax. But a funny little man, whom called himself Professor Dumbledore, or something of that sort, arrived at our door and proved what the letter claimed was true. His tricks seemed...impossible, yet they were very clearly seen, all with the naked eye's sight. So on September first, I carried with me my trunk and newly bought owl, Elizabeth, to King's Cross Station like a regular citizen of England. There I was to take a train, for the first time in my life, alone, by myself, without bodyguards, also for the first time.
I hated it. I despised myself for not being "normal". A muggle, as some would say. It turned out that one of my old ancestors, King George the fourth, IV, had a slight bit of magic in him that was passed down undetected through centuries of royalty. So I hated King George IV. I hated magic. How, now, was I supposed to become the queen of England when I could not even be considered a regular human?
I remember it clearly. I was sitting with my family, eating a quiet dinner, when a bird, an owl to be more precise, swooped from the halls. How he had gotten in was a mystery; the doors were guarded by our most able soldiers, the windows never opened and secure with bullet-proof glass. All I knew was that it came.
It landed in my half-finished chicken soup bowl, shaking its feathers haughtily and looking at me expectingly. Tied to its leg was a sealed letter with a strange crest on it. I had never seen it before. I wondered what it could be.
My father insisted it be checked for poison before read. It was, and there was none. I opened alone, away from prying, eagerly watching eyes.
And I found I had been accepted into a school called Hogwarts. It was a school of magic. We thought it was a hoax. But a funny little man, whom called himself Professor Dumbledore, or something of that sort, arrived at our door and proved what the letter claimed was true. His tricks seemed...impossible, yet they were very clearly seen, all with the naked eye's sight. So on September first, I carried with me my trunk and newly bought owl, Elizabeth, to King's Cross Station like a regular citizen of England. There I was to take a train, for the first time in my life, alone, by myself, without bodyguards, also for the first time.
I hated it. I despised myself for not being "normal". A muggle, as some would say. It turned out that one of my old ancestors, King George the fourth, IV, had a slight bit of magic in him that was passed down undetected through centuries of royalty. So I hated King George IV. I hated magic. How, now, was I supposed to become the queen of England when I could not even be considered a regular human?
