Chapter 1: The Bloody Panther
There she was again. It was almost a weekly occurrence by now. More familiar to her then the voices of her own parents. The rush Hermione obtained with the danger that impended from racing was enough to, if only for those fleeting moments, cause her mind and body an unreal serenity.
There was no match for her. Since receiving her muggle driving license, she had become unstoppable. Like many things, her speed and agility behind the wheel came almost too naturally. A second nature. As for car, it was one of a kind, to say the least.
She had searched hard for a set of wheels that she could be proud of, with nothing in return. Everything she came in range of affording was either covered in rust, fender to bumper, or completely dead in the water. Hermione desperately just wanted to get this search over with so that she could have a source of decent transportation for the month and a half that was left of summer.
Returning home after, possibly, the most frustrating let-down of a day ever, Hermione came face to face with the largest surprise since her Hogwarts acceptance letter. There, in her driveway, was the car.
Hermione was speechless. This had to be a mistake, yet the birthday bow on the hood told her otherwise. It was like a dream come true that she never realized she had. The car was magnificent. A 1969 Camaro, if her research served her correctly. From all the car books she had checked out to find what would be suitable, she never would have dreamed that she could ever have a possession as incredibly sought after as this. Pride washed through her soul, knowing that it was her own, and how lucky she was to have it.
Dropping her purse where she stood, Hermione set to get a better look at the American car. It looked brand new, the best condition possible, yet it was almost a solid forty years in age. She outstretched her palm and ran it along the glossy, black paint that the vehicle adorned. The body was sleek and sporty, with a streamline windshield and cab. The grill-plated headlights almost demanded power, yet it was a sign that this car was not in original condition. What did that matter to a girl, really? It gave her the ability to bend, mold, and change this car in any way, and not feel terrible about ruining its original integrity.
After walking around the Super Sport body, observing the firewall back and duel exhaust, Hermione dug her elegant fingers into the seam between the hood and the grill, lifting it excitedly. She was one to know that it didn't really matter what was on the outside, as long as it had power under the hood that could be salvaged. The young witch was not disappointed. There, in the confines of the front end was the last thing she expected a seventeen-year-old girl would own or would know how to own. Her mouth fell open as she starred at the big-block V8 in front of her. Serious muscle.
How am I going to manage this thing? The Horsepower must be outrageous! She thought skeptically, while setting the hood back in place, latching it shut.Yes, her studying had done her well. If Hermione wanted to learn about something she would study until she could just about be called a certified expert. When Hermione Granger picked up a book, she wouldn't stop until she's understood and memorized every word in the volume.
Walking over and clasping the awkward, left-hand, driver door, Hermione pulled it open, sat in the seat, and tugged the large door closed. The coupe was surprisingly spacious, and just as breathtaking as the exterior. It featured midnight leather seats, chrome clutch and gear shift, along with other metal accents, as well as a dark black and blood red dash and console. The keys were not in the ignition, but that didn't stop her from gazing at this picture of heaven. As she sat in the car, holding firm on the wheel, Hermione's thoughts began to wander.
How she wished that Harry and Ron could see her in this wonderfully menacing machine. Tears fell from Hermione's eyes as she realized that she would never get the chance to show them. She felt sick inside when ever she thought about it. The whole ordeal was just to fresh in her mind.
Flashback
They had left school last year with determination to avenge the death of the greatest headmaster Hogwarts had ever seen. Their friend and mentor, Albus Dumbledore. Hermione had been just as driven as the two boys she called best friends as well as the rest of the Order members. Only no one would acknowledge it. She was 'too young and fragile' they would say. They didn't see how a teenage girl could possibly be of any help on the quest for the Horcruxes. No, she would stay out of it entirely. The whole lot of them seemed to had forgotten just who she was and what she could do.
Hermione was sent packing back to Grimmauld Place with a will to prove herself. If they weren't going to allow her to participate, she would go out on her own. And that's exactly what she did.
After a week she was nearing the first destination, all by herself. She knew exactly what to do, and how to get it. The Horcrux that Hermione was after was fashioned as a rare everlasting rose, symbolizing life. The irony of it was that only two wizards had ever set eyes on it apart from Voldemort, and had died instantly. Most who heard these tales, decided that the death had been brought about by the Horntail dragon that guarded its tomb. Hermione knew otherwise, as she always did. She wasn't stupid and had done her research well. The dragon was just a ploy. It would not attack unless provoked, which it had been many times before.
As she rounded the bend, she viewed that the sun was slowly venturing out of its cradle, and into the skies, illuminating the landscape before her. There it was, the 'Vita Excessum Specus'. The cave of Life and Death. Hermione crept around the corner and spied the great reptile that was perched so elegantly by the entrance. Gathering her courage she advanced. The vicious dragon glared at her, ready to fight, but as Hermione bowed to it in a serious manor, the great creature nodded back and stepped aside. She was almost there ...almost.
"Hermione?" a loud voice questioned. Ron.
"Hermione look out!" screamed another. She turned her gaze to the group behind her. Harry withdrew his wand and aimed it at the dragon.
Hermione screamed for him to stop but it was to late. He had cast a repulsion hex on the winged beast, and that was the end of that. The Dragon reared up and let a blaze of fire ignite from it's throat. Damage was done. Order members were hitting the ground left, right, and center, as the fire-breathing monster stomped their lives from their limbs, or scorched them to death.
Hermione's senses kicked into motion. As fast as her legs would carry her, she ran into the cave. Panting for the life of her, she stopped when her eyes fell upon the rose. It glowed a violent red, with a tinge of silver from the stem. It was now that the real danger came. She crept towards it slowly watching her every move. Outstretching her hand she gently picked the rose up off its pedestal, careful not to touch the venomous thorns. She had done it!
All hell broke loose as Harry ran into the cave yelling like crazy at her for acting so irrationally. He spotted the rose and stared at Hermione with a bewildered expression.
"you found it!" he cried jovially. "Give it to me. Let me see it." His adrenaline was pumping too fast for his own good.
Panic gripped the brown-eyed girl, she was at a loss for words. He was too swift. She began to call out a warning. It was to late, he had grabbed the stem roughly, piercing his skin with the poisonous thorns.
The light left Harry Potters eyes that day. He was dead, and it could have been prevented.
The situation with Ron was not much better. Hermione had bolted from the tomb, rose in hand only to see a deathly blow befall Ron in the chest, as the Dragon impaled him with the razor-sharp spikes on its tail. Ron was killed instantly. Her heart dropped to the very pit of her stomach as tears washed over her face. He couldn't be dead. They couldn't be dead!
She was alone. The remainder of the Order members had escaped and ran. Alone, on her own. If only they would have listened to her. With all the remorse and hatred in her body, Hermione destroyed the rose-shaped Horcrux into a vast oblivion.
Never again did she hunt for pieces of Voldemort's soul. Never again would she.
End Flashback
So there she was, sitting in the cushioned seat of her new birthday present, with no one to share it with. Out with her friends, in with the car. It hardly seemed a fair trade, but she would take what she could get. Hermione knew that her parents had good intentions to help her through this rough summer, and she was thankful for their support.
Unlacing her fingers from the wheel, Hermione opened the glove box to see if there was a manual she could read. There wasn't. She motioned to close the compartment, when something fell out. It was a white envelope displaying curvy, black writing. 'To The Next'. Curiosity engulfed her and she tore open the letter.
To the recipient of this vehicle,
This beast was made to drive. Let the 'Bloody Panther' live again.
That's it? What a waste of paper! Hermione thought rudely. What is a 'Bloody Panther' anyway? Stepping out of the car after placing the note in her pocket, Hermione ventured into the house.
Her parents sat with large grins plaster on their faces, for their work well done. Hermione forgot all remorse and confusion that had been present earlier, and smiled back gratefully. That was all her parents needed, they sprang off the sofa and seized Hermione in a double bear hug. They cared so much for her, was she ever lucky.
"Where did you get it?" Hermione choked out.
"Mr. Larson, down the way, received it in his shop only a week ago." Mrs. Granger piped in. "He decided that you needed something to lift your spirits this summer, after..." She couldn't even say it. "He gave us quite an agreeable deal on it, and the sale was finalized while you were out shopping."
"Well, what are you waiting for!?" Mr. Granger cried. "Take 'er for a drive!" With that, he tossed Hermione the keys and directed her to the door. She would have to remember to thank Mr. Larson one of these days.
Climbing back into the beautiful car, Hermione pushed the clutch in, and turned the key. It was like an explosion happened inside of her as the engine ignited with a vicious growl. Never before had she felt so in-control of this much power.
It had been almost a month since that day. Now, a skilled standard driver, Hermione was back on the track where she belonged. It hadn't taken her long to become noticed in the underground world of racing, she was just too good. She had been playing around with the speed, and what the car could do, on a back country road one evening. Little to her knowledge, someone had seen her display of extreme control. The last person she expected.
Who knew that the hopelessly rich were into petty street racing? Hermione just couldn't fathom why this dark-skinned, blue-eyed boy would ever want to socialize with her. After all he had never even spoken to her before. Besides, he was a wizard, why would he stoop low enough as to be interested in a muggle sport?
These were the questions that the boy himself, Blaise Zabini, could only answer.
