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When she was little, Hermione had realized that she was different from other kids in her neighborhood. Not because of her magical ability, or her thirst for knowledge. But because when she would go to the library, she would be the only kid there who wasn’t white. In school, she was teased by the other children for her dark skin and wild untamable hair.
But at Hogwarts, she could fit in with the countless amounts of nonwhite students. There were students smarter and geekier than she was. There were students more awkward than she was. And for the first time in a long time, Hermione had close friends.
At the end of her first year, she didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to have to go to a world were she didn’t fit in with one side of the community due to her color and the other side because of her smarts. But lucky for her, the Grangers took a vacation that summer; leading them away from the neighborhood Hermione dreaded returning to. When school was back in the next year, she had said that she had spent her summer at home reading. No one doubted that. Besides Harry and Ron’s late arrival to school had changed the topic of discussion fairly quickly.
But it wasn’t long before Hermione’s view of the magical world rewrote itself.
It happened one morning after breakfast. Ron and Hermione had gone to watch Harry at Quiddich practice, when the Slytherin team had seemingly stolen the practice time from the Gryffindor team. It was became obvious to Hermione that Malfoy had his father pay his way onto the team. When she stated so, he called her a “filthy little mudblood."
Hermione had never heard the phrase, but when she saw the reactions of the people around her, she knew it wasn’t a good thing. The members of the Gryffindor Quiddich team immediately either gasped in shock or actively moved to fight Malfoy. But it was Ron who actually tried to do something. He pulled out his wand- his very, very token wand- and attempted to curse Malfoy. But the wand backfired and caused him to start vomiting up slugs.
They took Ron over to Hagrid’s where Ron just continued to vomit slugs, but now into a bucket. Hagrid then asked what had happened, and the group explained that Ron had tried to curse Malfoy after he had insulted Hermione.
But when Ron begun explaining what the insult meant, her heart sunk.
“It’s about the most insulting thing he could think of,” Gasped Ron, coming back up from the bucket. “Mudblood’s a really foul name for someone who is muggle-born — you know, non-magical parents. There are some wizards—like Malfoy’s family— who think they’re better than everyone else because they’re what people call pure-blood. I mean, the rest of us know it doesn’t make a difference at all. Look at Neville Longbottom— he’s pure-blood and he can barely stand a cauldron up the right way."
“An’ they haven’t invented a spell our Hermione can’ do” said Hagrid proudly. This caused Hermione blush, a faint coloring could be seen beneath her dark skin.
“It’s a disgusting thing to call someone,” said Ron with a touch of anger present in his tone. “Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It’s ridiculous. Most wizards these days are half-blood anyway. If we hadn’t married Muggles we’d’ve died out."
“It really is horrible thing, but it isn’t the first time I’ve been called horrible names.” Ron and Hargrid’s brows furrowed in confusion, but Harry seemed to understand.
Hermione took a deep breath. “In the Muggle world, there’s a similar prejudice against people with different ancestry. But instead of Muggle ancestry, the problem is how dark your skin is. For example, my family came a long time ago from somewhere in Africa. My skin then is fairly dark, and people in the muggle world don’t like that. And I don’t fit in with people who have darker skin because that community doesn’t put as much priority on how smart you are.” Hermione sighed and stared at the floor. “I’ve been called dirty based on my skin more times than I can count. I never thought I would be called dirty based on something beyond that. I had just hoped that the wizarding world was different, I guess. That they wouldn’t have prejudice like I grew up with."
“Well I dunno much about the muggle world, but I reckon that’s something you’ve gotta learn about any world. Not even the wizarding world is perfect.” Hagrid scratched the back of his head as he spoke. “It’s not an easy lesson to learn, and it’s not a pleasant one. But people in power don’t like threats to it. And you Hermione are one of the biggest threats of all."
Hermione smiled widely
It was this moment that Hermione thought of five years later as she was being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange. How simple that time had been. When a slur was the one of biggest threats to her life. Now the biggest treat was an insane murderess that had a certain love of the cruciatus curse. Hermione would have almost laughed if she hadn’t been screaming. It had been Draco Malfoy who had introduced her to the term and now it was his sadistic Aunt who would forever mark her with it.
She was tortured because she was Harry’s friend and a muggle-born. But she was ashamed of none of it. She was proud of her heritage, inside and outside of the wizarding world.
And many years after that, her daughter Rose would ask about the scars on her arm that spelled a word. And Hermione would tell her daughter that here would be people in the world that wouldn’t like her — possibly for her family or for her skin color. And little Rose would prove them wrong she would prove herself by being the best she could be. And to show those prejudiced and bigoted people that they were wrong and they would never define her.