Disclaimer: I really am saddened that I do not own HP or its derivatives. It belongs to the Queen of Magic, J.K. Rowling. I can only borrow her characters for some time.

A/N: My first story. So, please be kind enough to give me some positive reviews. Criticism is welcome as long as it is constructive. The plot is already decided so, please don't be disappointed because I can't take your suggestions and build the story on it. Thank you for your time.

Minerva McGonagall watched both of her students as they looked at the prone figure of Hermione Granger on the hospital bed. The red haired boy's expression was one of shock and sadness. His eyes were teary. However, his companion's expression was one that she was beginning to get concerned about. It was completely blank. Nothing, absolutely nothing, showed on his face. His green eyes, inherited from his mother, which were always so expressive, showed nothing. She couldn't understand this reaction. Most kids would be sad or angry. But the lad was totally unresponsive. He wasn't in shock, though, of that she was sure. His pupils weren't dilated, he wasn't hyperventilating or seemed to be having a panic attack. That worried her. Normal reactions she could understand. But, the boy seemed to be controlling his emotions to an extent that even the best occlumens in the world would be incapable of doing. However, even more worrying was the slight aura, flaring, around the boy. Dark purple in color and pulsing sinisterly. She knew that projection of an aura by a wizard was not possible unless that wizard had enough power. And by the looks of it, Harry Potter seemed to have power in spades. He hadn't even reached his first magical maturity and he was already displaying an aura, however, faint it might be. People start displaying auras as their power levels increase with time and magical maturities. The fact that most people who have already reached their second and in some cases final, magical maturity don't have auras would make what Mr. Potter was displaying to be all that much special and scary.

And dark purple itself had a very dangerous significance. Dark purple was said to be the color of the auras of the battle mages of old. Aura colors signify the occupation the person would be best suited to and general mindset of the person wielding them. Red and crimson were the colors of teachers and researchers, respectively. Blue and green were the colors of healers and herbologists, respectively. Purple and indigo were the colors of mages and soldiers. The darker the color, the more the person's personality and mindset matches the occupation. Her own aura was a deep red, bordering on burgundy. She was a teacher through and through. There were only a few people now that could even claim to have that specific color. It was really rare and to see it possessed by a mere twelve year old was shocking to the seventy year old woman. She knew then and there, in the hospital wing of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, surrounded by students, a ghost and a cat, that the wizarding world was going to shake on its knees when Mr. Harry Potter would be a fully fledged wizard, with his entire power at his disposal.

Meanwhile, the green eyed, black haired, boy's thoughts were focused on someone entirely different. He watched as his best female friend lay in the hospital wing, petrified by something that even the teachers weren't able to identify. He looked at the one person that had begun to matter the most to him in the past year or so. True, he had another friend in Ron but he had seen the redhead to be distancing himself from Harry when the entire school had started to believe that Harry was behind the attacks on the muggleborns. Hermione on the other hand had only grown closer to him by showing unwavering support. He started to contemplate his relationship with the bushy, brown haired girl. The first time he had seen her he hadn't been impressed. Quoting the textbook, spouting off rules and acting bossy and nagging all over. Then they started to have encounters which always seemed to turn into arguments and spats, which included a few heated words but had never been insulting to any of them. However, that all changed on Halloween. When he had heard Ron say those awful words behind her back, he took a trip down memory lane. He remembered how his own family had treated him, with contempt and hatred.

His own uncle called him names and even hit him. Not much but enough to make sure Harry knew what his position was in the house. His aunt, his flesh and blood, starved him and insulted him at every chance. She made him work like a slave and didn't even bother to give him enough to eat. But, the thing that hurt the most was the care shown by his aunt and uncle towards their son. He had his every demand and wish fulfilled without much resistance. This behavior pampered his cousin to an extent that he started to believe that he was entitled to things without having to work for them. He also remembered that he didn't have any friends before he came to Hogwarts.

Introspection followed all of this. Harry was disgusted by his behavior towards someone who didn't deserve such abuse. He also started to see Ron in a new light. The redhead had insulted an innocent girl just because she was better at something than him. True, she had been a little bossy but Harry himself was punished for doing better than Dudley in primary school. So, he could relate to Hermione better than anyone on that. While, he hadn't insulted the girl personally, he hadn't intervened on her behalf either. He thought back to the times when he had been bullied and at that time the only thought had been 'Please, someone, anyone, help me!' How could he have stood by and watched while an innocent had been subjected to the same thing as him had appalled him. This self observation had taken him to the Halloween feast.

Right, then the troll had been let in by Quirinus Quirrell as a diversion. And, the first thought that had crossed his mind had been that of Hermione. He just took Ron and headed towards the last place Hermione had been rumored to have been. He had noticed Ron's hesitance while following him. He couldn't fault him for that, though, because a troll on the loose was something to be concerned about. When he had heard the scream of terror from the bathroom he had just locked, his heart had skipped a few beats and his lips had turned dry. The next thing he remembered was leading the charge into the bathroom, trying to distract the dumb creature, trying to pull Hermione from her hiding place and finally jumping onto the head of the troll just when it was going to smash its large, wooden club into the cowering girl. When Hermione had lied for them both to the teachers, he had been ready to reveal the real reason for her to have been there in the bathroom in the first place. But, he had thought the better of it and later apologized to Hermione for hurting her. Ron hadn't even bothered. This had dropped his opinion of the redhead even lower.

Then, all throughout the rest of the year Hermione had helped him do his homework and provided guidance to him whenever necessary. She even braved going with him into the third floor corridor with him when he had insisted on going to save the damn stone from the mummified Voldemort. But, the thing that had really changed his outlook of Hermione had been the hug she had given him just before he entered into the final chamber. That one act had endeared her to him so much that he could think of little else than her during the following summer. When there had been no correspondence from her, he had been more depressed than he could have ever been. However, all that changed on the day that Dobby had come to see him. Dobby had been succeeding in his endeavor to keep Harry from Hogwarts until he had seen her letters. The moment he had seen Hermione's tidy handwriting on those letters his heart had swelled with an emotion he could not describe. That more than anything else had increased his resolve to see her at school. When he later saw her at the bookstore in Diagon Alley he had been ecstatic. He could not understand his feelings though, which confused him. And then they had returned to school only for someone to start attacking muggleborns. They had suspected Draco Malfoy at first. When Hermione had consumed the polyjuice potion with the cat's hair in it he had been devastated. He could not bear to see her distress. The moment Ron had cracked the joke about her tail he would have made the redhead pay. Honestly, the boy didn't know about appropriate timings. But it was temporary thing and he had been relieved to find her back in shape by the end of January. He had never considered bringing her schoolbag to the hospital wing and taking notes in class for her a chore. He just did it gladly to see her smile when he would heave her heavier than average book bag.

But, never in a lifetime would he have thought that he would see her lying there on the hospital wing bed looking so lost and vulnerable. The one person that truly cared for him was magically turned to stone. She wouldn't smile anymore, wouldn't spout out some unknown fact that she read from an unknown book and she certainly wouldn't nag him to do his homework while she was in this state.

He couldn't feel anything for a second but that all changed. Fury and hatred rose from deep within him. As he watched her brown eyes looking into space blankly his anger and hatred reached a crescendo in him. He looked at her blankly though. Anyone looking at him would think he wasn't even there. That wasn't true though. Only he knew how he could keep all of that emotion from showing on his face. It was because he had a purpose to go with all that emotion. 'Find the one responsible and make them bleed. Make them beg for mercy.' He was staring at her and he himself was stuck in that position making him look like a statue. Suddenly he looked around and saw that it was already evening and he was sitting on a chair beside her bed. He didn't know how long he'd been here staring at her. The hospital looked to be deserted apart from him. He couldn't even remember telling Ron to go to dinner without him, assuring McGonagall that he was fine and sending Pomfrey off to dinner as well.

His eyes sought her out again. Her bushy, untamable, brown hair splayed on the fluffy pillows, her arm outstretched to hold out the mirror(now lying on her bedside table), her eyes looking into the distance, widened with fear. His anger and hatred had not faded in the least.

"Hello, dear girl. It should have been me in that bed with you in this chair. Today was a quidditch match after all." A deep sob escaped his lips, and just like that his entire anger and hatred had dissolved into grief.

"Why you? Why, Hermione? Is it because of me? Am I the reason for you to be in that bed? Have I put you there? Maybe it is. After all I couldn't solve the god damn puzzle of who is doing this" he whispered. His entire demeanor changed by now. The look that came over him was one of determination and vengeance. "But, I know one thing, dear girl, whoever it is, they attacked the wrong person. They are going to find out the hard way that Hermione Granger is to be left alone. Whoever it may be, they are going to regret the day they decided to attack you, I swear! Be it a student, a teacher or even that Dark Tosser himself, they will regret this. I promise you this, I will do whatever is necessary to make them pay." His chest heaving with emotion and his aura flaring made him look really intimidating.

"And, I am not going to any teacher for help, Hermione. They are just a bunch of bastards that care about their own images and nonsensical rules that they have become incompetent."He chuckled, "I'm sorry about swearing, Hermione, but that's the truth. They are incapable of doing anything important as you remember last year. McGonagall didn't even think it important enough to at least hear us out. Sorry, but I am not going to waste my breath over them. I'll just do this alone. I don't think I can count on Ron's help either. His priorities are quidditch, chess and food, as you very well know. But, I may... no, will, need your help from time to time. I'll try to do it alone, but I know that without the help of the smartest witch of the generation I won't be able to. I also promise you that I'll make an effort in classes from now on. That might seem like a joke but I realized that your opinion of me matters to me more than anything else. I will also go and tell McGonagall to change my electives from divination to ancient runes and arithmancy. They seemed to have a future use in studying deeper aspects of magic. Surprising, isn't it? Incidents like these put things into perspective, don't they? You really start to understand what's important."

"Well, that's it for today, I suppose. I'll come back again tomorrow. See, if I can get something on the chamber of secrets. Until tomorrow, Hermione." He gently kissed her forehead like he had seen the parents of the other kids in primary school had done with their charges. It felt unusual, good but unusual to be doing this to her. He genuinely hoped nobody had seen this. It felt intimately private. He turned and left the hospital wing with vengeance and determination raging in his heart. Had he stayed or even turned during his exit he would have seen Hermione's eyes crinkle slightly as if smiling.