Chapter Text
Hermione certainly wasn't an ordinary child, even since she was a little. Her parents - her muggle parents (she hadn't known that yet) - quickly noticed that something was not right, not as it meant to be. Maybe it had been when they had noticed she had hit that stupid boy and then acted like nothing had happened or maybe when she couldn't understand why that man had been called bad for stealing some money - after all, all of them needed money, right? She wasn't really sure when they had done it but it wasn't that important.
However, how sad and unpleasant it might be, the doctor couldn't help her - sort of. The brilliant child she was, she started to pretend to understand why lying to her mother or hitting that boy was bad. She was tired of doctors and their silly games; like watching cartoons about Freddie, the Thief . So she kept watching people around her, trying to pretend to understand how their world worked. After a while she mastered it - she knew what she should say when someone was talking about a funeral, how sad she should be because her mother had broken her leg, that she should smile when her dad had said he had helped her grandma in moving closer to them.
Still, in her mind it meant nothing. If she could describe it, she would probably said that everyone had in their mind a some kind of scale. Good at the one end and Evil at another. And they sorted thing between the two ends - they knew how to sort them. And in Hermione's mind... She didn't have that scale. She just had shreds of thoughts swirling in a dark, empty space. Everything for her just was. Killing, smiling, stealing, helping, hurting, laughing - it all for her was as bland as eating or breathing (of course she came to that conclusion when she as a little bit elder).
Obviously, she could tell that hurting her was bad - because she suffered. But hurting others? No, it wasn't bad. Or good. She didn't know. She actually felt emotions. When she got a high score form a test and everyone prised her, she would smile - because others thought she was special and showed her it. When her best friend lied to her she would get mad - because other people should be loyal to her, not the other way around. She was perfectly capable of telling if something was okay or not so okay if it was happening to her - she, however, couldn't picture others as herself.
And then, the magic came. She didn't see anything bad in setting that doll of that dumb girl on fire. It was justice and it was neutral, she believed. She quickly had discovered - not knowing it was magic, for sure - that if she would think very hard of something, it would happen. And that thing (whatever it was) was just so new for her. It didn't ask if pushing that kid of a tree would be good or bad, it just did it. Hermione also used it for learning - despite how broken she might be, Hermione loved learning. She would, if she could, spend all day in the library. But sometime, even the library didn't have the book she had wanted. Then she used it to get that book. She didn't have a clue how it worked, but since she had good enough results she didn't care that much.
When she got her letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy everything became clear. She was a witch (or at least that woman said so) and it was magic. While talking with professor McGonagall, her parents made sure not to mention anything about her being not able of some things. Little Hermione was all over the moon; she was a witch. Everything somehow, suddenly became possible. And how many things she would learn! When she heard about the things she would be able to do, about the animals - creatures and places she would be able to see, all she could do was just smiling. Even with her lack of some things, Hermione knew it was good and she was proud of herself. After all, she always knew she was special and now, someone confirmed her conviction.
Her first time in the Diagon Alley was something important and memorable for her and her parents. Emma and John finally, after a quite long time, saw her daughter acting like a child she was. Hermione would with smile looked at the showcases, with curiosity staring at proper witches and wizard in strange clothes. She made a mental note about it - when she would be a little bit elder, she would have to buy a different wardrobe for herself. She was a smart kid, she noticed that pureblood wizards and witches (she had read about them from a book about the wizarding world's history) looked different - by just one look anyone could tell that they were blessed by magic. And by one look at Hermione no on could assume the same thing. And it bothered her; after all, she was a witch too and wanted people to know it.
But it was for later. Now, her parents went to one shop, telling her it was a surprise and she in the meantime went to the Ollivanders - for her very first wand. She opened the door with hesitation and slowly step further in. She saw a lot, that was and understatement, of bookcases, cupboards and shelves. But instead of books they were full of boxes, Hermione assumed that there were wands inside. The shop itself seemed to have no end, both in length and height.
"Ah, Miss Granger, how nice of you to come! I've been waiting for you for such a long time." She turned back in the direction of the voice. Little girl saw an old man with long - even longer than hers - white hair. For her, he looked a bit crazy. He quickly started running around the shop, taking out and immediately putting back the next boxes. His cloak looked like it was elder than its owner. But she had to admit, the place and the man for sure had their climate.
"Good morning, Mister Ollivander," Hermione said slowly, listening to the man's mutterings about woods. If she had to be honest; she knew nothing about wands nor making them. She looked at him with curiosity which was slowly being replaced by irritation. He couldn't decide which wand she should try and in the result - she was just standing with nothing.
"Try it! Try it, my dear!" He gave her one wand but the moment Hermione took it in her hand, the wand dropped itself. "Oh, she didn't like you! That's nothing, move that one!" Ollivander gave her another stick with enthusiasm but another time - the wand didn't want her. Apple, Black Walnut, Dogwood, Holly, Laurel all those woods seemed to not like her. (Only later Hermione discovered they all were woods used by the light wizards, they were better it casting light spells with a pure-hearted owner. That explained a lot to her and unfortunately for her - to Ollivander.)
When Hermione really, really wanted to leave, he gave her the last wand he could think of. With something strange - with a fear - in the eyes, he gave her another, this time black box. Little girl carefully opened it and took the wand in her hand, looking at it with pure admiration.
The moment she did it, she swore she could almost feel her magic in her veins, it was fresh, new, powerful. She heard all those voices, encouraging her to do something to somebody, to anyone really - just to do it, to feel the magic. She mad a movement and... It wasn't it. She narrowed her eyebrows in surprise and raised her head to look at the wandmaker. She couldn't hide the shadow of disappointment on her face.
"Good, good! Your magic seems to like the wood, then we should work on the core." He went to the facilities. Hermione could hear from there his chuckling. Something about that core being - for sure - wrong for her but he wanted to make a little joke. After all, that core and that wood could only co-exist while being owned by someone not so light, not so good, not so pure-hearted. After something like five minutes he came back with a little different wand. That time it looked very elegant, almost noble. Despite the energy, the wand was all in ivory colour. The man looked at her with curiosity, but yet, with stress as she took the wand and gently waved her hand. He smiled with amusement and then his eyes went wide in shock.
"It seems like you have your wand, Miss Granger." Ollivander said gloomily with unclear expression. "Yew, 10¾, Curupira hair." He turned back to her and made a few steps, but when Hermione grabbed the handle, Ollivander spoke to her for the last time, "You are in charge of a wand and of the magic, not otherwise." Oh, how wrong it felt for him, saying those words for a third time. He hoped, he wished he hadn't said it even once.
When Hermione left the shop, she realized she hadn't paid for the wand. But she didn't come back to do so, after all, it wasn't a bad thing. She quickly went to the meeting place where she should have met her parents. How surprised and excited she was when along with her mum and dad, she also saw a ginger cat. Hermione couldn't stop giggling and murmured something like 'thanks' with a smile. Truth has been told, her parents have been happier than ever seeing their child like it, acting childishly. Together, they went for other items from her school's list.
She said goodbye to her parents; they almost cried and went to the train. At the Hogwarts Express, she befriended Neville Longbottom who told her more about their world, mostly about culture and recent events. She felt good with him and it was good - she supposed. But oh, she couldn't miss the shadow of fear on his face when he discovered that her wand was made from yew. She made a mental note about reading about wands and wands making for later. When she was looking for his toad, Hermione met a not so ordinary child in one of the compartments.
Someone cleared their throat, not noticing her. "Ahem. Sun-"
Hermione looked at the ginger boy and then at the second person, she tried to smile cheerfully. She stood at the doorway. "Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one." She said slowly, not really caring about his words.
"No." It was the only answer from a ginger boy who was holding his wand above his... rat. How strange, unusual, Hermione thought. The other boy was looking at her with way more soft gaze and it actually made her happy; she wanted to be wanted.
"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see then." She said with a fascination and raised an eyebrow, waiting. Even if she cast a few spells herself - not really knowing why she couldn't use magic outside of school; she didn't see anything bad in it - she still wanted to see more and more.
"Aghhhemm. Sunshine, daises, butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow!" He almost yelled. She and that another boy leaned over him when they saw a zap from his wand but nothing happened. The ginger boy shrugged.
"Are you sure that's a real spell? Well, it's not very good, is it?" She smiled - this time with amusement. "I'm sure we could do something better, for example..." Hermione went over and sat across from the other boy. She pointed her hand at his glasses and saw as he tensed. "Oculus Reparo." The glasses, which noseband is battered, were repaired. He took them off, amazed. "That's better, isn't it? Holy Cricket, you're Harry Potter. I'm Hermione Granger... and you are...?" She looked at the direction of the ginger boy.
"I'm... Ron Weasley." He said with a full mouth. She had to force herself not to show her disgust.
"Pleasure. You two better change into your robes. I expect we'll be arriving soon." She got up and left, then came back only to look at Ron. "You've got dirt, on your nose, by the way, did you know? Just there. " She pointed and could see how Ron scratches his nose, embarrassed before she left them for good this time.
When the train stopped, she heard some male voice yelling something about first-year students. She, along with others, went in that direction and saw a tall man. A huge man, even. He kept talking and talking but she seemed to ignore his words - she looked around herself with sparkles in the eyes. The lake, the boats, magic amazed her. It was dark outside so she couldn't really see anything that was far away but only hearing strange, new noises was more than enough to her.
When she actually went to the castle, made the first step into its walls, she could feel the magic around her. It was strong, different magic - that kind she didn't feel in the Diagon Alley. She didn't focus on professor 's words (she already knew it from Hogwarts: A history). They - the first-year students - stood at the centre of the Great Hall. Suddenly Dumbledore raised from the main table and everyone went silent.
"I have a few start of term notices I wish to announce. The first years please note that the dark forest is strictly forbidden to all students. Also, our caretaker, Mr. Filch," he gave a signal to ragged old man with a cat with red eyes, "has asked me to remind you that the 3rd floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death. Thank you." He smiled to them and sat again.
Now, everyone's attention was on professor McGonagall who stood next to the steps, some stool and the Sorting Hat. "When I call your name, you will come forth, I shall place the sorting hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your houses. Draco Malfoy."
Draco sauntered up proudly. The tattered hat nearly freaked before touching down on Draco's head. "SLYTHERIN!" It yelled. Hermione read about his family; both Malfoys and Black, so she wasn't really surprised. Deep inside of herself, she wished a little she had been born in similar family - but not that her family was wrong!
"There isn't a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin." She heard as Ron murmured it to Harry. She looked at them with a strange gaze. Unusual for a wizards' children, Hermione wasn't prejudiced towards the houses. Quite the opposite, she really admired Slytherin for their attributes. (She didn't do it but she really wanted to convince Ron just how wrong he was. Or would be)
"Susan Bones." McGonagall said and a small, redhead went up. Hermione took her time to look at the teaching staff. She had to admit - they were bunch of very different witches and wizards.
"Let's see... I know... Hufflepuff!" The Sorting Hat yelled and Hermione could see the happiness in young girl's eyes. Next was Ronald Weasley. She, even if didn't want to admit it, was curious about his house. He was arrogant and didn't know how to present himself properly. Ron gulped and walked up. He sat down and the hat was put on. Hermione could hear chuckling from the Gryffindor's table, she looked there and saw a few ginger boys laughing over him. They were probably his brothers, she thought.
"Ah! Another Weasley. I know just where to put you... Gryffindor!!" The hat yelled and he sighed as his brother started to cheer. She could assume it before, after all, he was a Weasley as the hat said itself.
Next was Harry Potter. Harry walked up and sat down. Everyone went silent, waiting. After a while he was sorted into the same house as his friend and the Gryffindor's table started to cheer almost too loud and too long. After a couple of people Hermione's turn came. She slowly walked up and sat down, telling herself to relax. Once The Sorting Hat touched her head, she heard another voice in her head. (It was hard to distinguish it from other voices.)
"I'm not alone here, I don't like it. Learn how to control it." The hat murmured in annoyance. "What do we have here... Oh my, my, you're the ambitious one. Slytherin seems like an option, don't you think? But no, Miss Granger. If I were to place you there, you would have achieved too much in too short time. Just look at you!" The hat seemed gloomily. Was it because of her wand again? Even she - and she had a problem - didn't see anything bad in it and somehow others did (maybe because she had problems, she didn't see) "How ambitious, how badly you want power and control, how dark, " it chuckled, "no, Slytherin would be too easy for you, even if you're Muggleborn. Next, Hufflepuff! Not, that's an terribly idea. You are not loyal, aren't you? By any means, you would not be. Oh Morgana, how good that others couldn't hear us." Hermione slowly started to get annoyed. "Ravenclaw? Now we're talking about real options! You want power, don't you? And you know you would have your power by learning. Oh, how eager your housemates would be, to learn with you! They would do anything for it, thinking you're just curious little thing. (For Hermione, they would do anything for Hermione but The Sorting Hat didn't want to say it and she knew it.) No, no, no, Miss Granger, once again it would be too easy for you." The Sorting Hat sighed. " Gryffindor seems like the only option. Oh, Merlin how twisted it it!" It laughed - out loud this time."You would have to work hard, you know? They don't like dark things and lack of loyalty, they don't want power and they wouldn't do anything for you if you wouldn't be worth it. I don't know the future- well, sort off. But I can assure you, if you won't give up in this house, things would go really bad. (Hermione didn't understand what bad meant.) I hear that voice, it told me that."
"Ah, right then... hmm... right. Okay... Gryffindor!!" The Sorting Hat yelled. Hermione jumped off with a confused face, for her lucky, no one paid attention to it due to cheering. She shook her head and with a small smile she went to her new table. She was happy she could be with her new friends. While talking with that Hat, she hadn't noticed that everyone went silent. She almost had broken McGonagall's record.
Her first months at school were rather peaceful and calm. She spent so much time in the library; probably her new favourite place. She read, read and read. However, she didn't understand the Forbidden Section. She didn't understand why books and, consequently, knowledge would be something bad. So, sometimes, in the death of night, she, with a help of a few spells, came to the room and, with a help of a few spells, she read those books. She, herself, didn't know how spells she should have used. It, that strange voice told her.
Lessons were fine, more than fine, even. She was truly interested in everything and quickly became someone who's been called "teacher's pet". But it wasn't her fault, really. Her magical potential was more than she could even think, so she always mastered teachers' orders. She loved the practice, but the theory was just as interesting. She truly enjoyed writing essays or reading textbooks. Only flying and Quidditch didn't seem to be her cup of tea but she was perfectly fine with it - after all, those weren't the most needed skills.
Beside it, she had friends. For the first time, she truly felt like it. Harry and Ron were so funny and silly, she could do everything with them. Recently, she started to go to Hagrid with them - he was that huge man from the beginning of the year and Hogwarts grove. Harry seemed to be happy to have her too. Ron was... Well, Ron was an enigma. He, on the other hand, seemed to like her only because Harry did.
Of course, she didn't tell anyone about her little problem. Once again, she had to learn what was acceptable and what was not in the wizarding society. She didn't understand anything of it but she did stay in line for her own good. For example, she didn't understand the concept of Dark Magic. For her magic was magic - despite everything. So why considering some part of it as bad. Whatsoever bad meant. It amazed her that someone had been able to create a spell which could tear a person apart tissue by tissue. They had had to be so good, so talented and mastered with their magic to be able to do so. Then why someone named it as 'bad' and just ignored all the effort that had been put into developing it. She wish she could learn more about it and, hopefully she would have the opportunity do to so.
Now, she spent almost all of her time with Harry and Ron, trying to figure out what was happening with The Philosopher's Stone. The concept of it was amazing itself, Hermione had to admit. She didn't know why she helped them - after all, stealing wasn't bad. Maybe she just wanted to be with them. Hermione wasn't so confident person, it was one of her flaws. She wasn't shy just... less confident than others. She did the reading, she did the connecting the dots, she did almost everything of it only to got Harry to fight with professor Quirrell. Well, she still wasn't really sure what happened between the two, three of them. However, she helped them with everything and the mission ended up being a success. Even so, she still couldn't see anything good in their doings. Maybe she was just wrong. But she was happy, Harry seemed to like her even more and Ron slowly started to act normal towards her.
She spent some time of the holidays with her friends and the other part with her parents in the Muggle world. She couldn't practice magic - what she considered as stupid - so she was reading. Reading about the Dark Lord. Hermione didn't admit it in front of anyone - especially her friends - but she didn't understand why people didn't like him. After all, he wanted to free magic, all kinds of magic. Killing, stealing, hurting - it all for her was as bland as eating or breathing.
Her second year was as annoying as dangerous. The Ghosts' Night was an amazing experience. However, she didn't understand why they were celebrating Halloween, they should have celebrated Samhain instead - a wizarding festival, not a Muggle one. With her new knowledge - gained over the summer - she had every right to be mad about it. During some days, only a few of the whole year, relevant kinds of magic were stronger than ever. That's why she celebrated Samhain on her own. It told her it would be something that proper witch would do and she was so excited to see more of her world and its culture.
She went to abandoned girl's bathroom, not the nicest of places, she had to admit, and did some rituals. Well, sort off. It all started at the beginning of the day. She started to hear it, that voice. It slowly whispered to hear ear how good, how prefect it would be. It told her it would be easy. She just would have to go somewhere and, while looking in the mirror or something like that, point her wand at herself. And oh, that voice was so addictive and sweet. At the end of the day she couldn't ignore, oppose, she was too driven in its madness. Of course, the sacrifice had to be made. But Hermione didn't have problem with killing so she murdered that poor raven. She didn't exactly know why she was following it. It seemed to almost be that voice of reason, telling you what was good and what was bad, which she didn't have and has been looking for since she was a little.
With its blood, she started to paint runes on her face and wand. Of course, she didn't know them but it knew. And something told her that it would not harm her, would protect her ans she trusted that feeling. Now, she didn't have any other option. She looked in the mirror and said things she didn't understand but knew they were right. "Iarraimidne, Leanaí Danu, do chosaint. Iarraimidne, Leanaí Danu, do chumhacht. Is breá linn, a Pháistí Danu, tú. Úsáid an fhuil sin le do thoil chun cabhrú linn, a Leanaí!" Hermione wanted to close her eyes but knew she couldn't do such a thing, it continued whispering sweet things to her ear and she so eagerly continued to say them out loud. "Iarraimidne, Leanaí Danu, troid ar do shon. Iarraimidne, Leanaí Danu, marú ar do shon. Iarraimidne, Leanaí Danu, do naimhde a mharú. Le do thoil, tabhair do chabhair dúinn, a mháthair! Tabhair dúinn do chumhacht chun cabhrú linn, Leanaí Danu!" She felt new magic in her veins, it was almost as dark as the night. (She didn't know it was her magic.) Hermione wanted to scream when she felt some stranger patterns appering on the skin of her neck. She almost started to cry due to pain but it kept her quiet and calmer, if it was possible. She saw that strange aura around herself but it told her it was normal, after a while she was able to shut her eyes and took a deep breath. Slowly, she looked at the... things on her eyes. They were runes, a lot of them, but not that kind used and taught in Hogwart. She knew they weren't bad. It told her they were old, Celtic runes used by the Druids and they were only to her protection. And she believed.
Well, it didn't say everything to her. Hermione, indeed, did some ritual of protection and power but also a dark ritual. It might be a path she could never come back from. But she didn't really care - it wasn't bad, why would be when the runes on her skin felt so warm and good. Despite it, she spent a few days on searching what it would be. She knew it was something connected with her magic. When she almost gave up - couldn't find anything even in forbidden section - that one book quite literally fell on her head. With annoyance she opened it on random page and saw that. Due to that, it would be just her magic speaking to her, trying to protect her. Because her magic knew that Hermione lived in the world where perception of good and evil was required. But oh, magic is so biased, so it pushed Hermione in only direction it knew.
Still, knowing that, she was wondering why her magic had wanted her to do that ritual and then she had her answer. The Chamber of Secrets has been opened nad some thing form there wanted to kill Muggleborn students. Harry and Ron became so worried about her, it was almost sweet. But they also worked hard! Hermione managed to do the polyjuice potion and the boys went to the Slytherin common room, not her, she had some kind of problems with Pansy Parkinson's hair.
Along with the knowledge about the Tom Riddle's diary - whoever that man was - they did find the Chamber of Secrets. And again, for her luck, she couldn't go with them. Due to too big exhaustion, she passed out and couldn't do anything useful. The stress about Ginny didn't really help anything. Of course after all Ron and Harry told her everything with every, the smallest detail. She listened with curiosity and surprise. She felt connected to them even more and was so happy to see the same thing from them. It was so good to have friends. Even Ron was somehow nice and just... cool to be around.
She still was interested in Tom Riddle persona. She tried to find anything about him but the history acted like he didn't even existed. It was until Harry told her it was the real name of The Dark Lord. It made Hermione felt so silly for not guessing beforehand. She thanked him and with him and Ron went to their Quidditch practice. She smiled to herself. That year was so good for her.
But oh, little Hermione knew the protection wasn't only thing the ritual did to her.