Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter.
Information: It never actually says Hermione's age in the books and it is assumed she is the normal age. In this she's one year younger but gains it back in her third year. Though she may sound mary-sueish, she is a prodigy and still CANNOT fly a broom. Since I am unaware as too her birthday, I'm making it May 31. Any concerns, suggestion or constructive critisme please review and voice your opinions there. My first chapter will be rather short.
It's ironic really. No one really knew what had started the actual era of Tom Riddle's rule. What had given him the power and resources to become the dark Lord Voldemort? I didn't, not then anyways. Only a few key people did. I ended the rule though, as sure as I had started it. I made sure of it. My name's Hermione Granger, my story is one of death and life, destruction and rebirth, and truth be told, it is entirely my fault, and all my victory.
At five I was multiplying and dividing. At age six I was reading the most complex texts. By ten I had finished the majority of high school, and knew the material well. As a child I had been especially gifted, truth be told, I was a prodigy, a mastermind. I was different, yet not unbelievably so. At least that's what they thought.
Then the Hogwarts letter came. I was ten. It was ironic; everyone had expected Harry Potter to be the most gifted in the class. No one had expected a muggle born witch to surpass everyone.
Had anyone checked my record they would have seen the number of times a ministry officer had to pay a visit to my house due to large outbursts of magic. It wasn't uncontrolled, yet it was. It was wild magic that the ministry couldn't tame. I had control though.
At ten I mastered Snape's riddle. At eleven I broke into my potion professors' office, protected by advanced wards, and stole ingredients to brew a potion far beyond my experience level, not my capabilities. At eleven I gave Harry the information that the teachers couldn't find to stop Tom Riddle, for he was not Voldemort then. At twelve I figured out in months what the marauders and even Severus couldn't figure out in years. I slapped my nemesis and stunned a teacher. At age fourteen I taught Harry every spell that he needed to make it through the tournament alive. At fifteen I got rid of the other death eaters that we were unaware of, waiting to ambush us, and got stunned by the ones chasing us. At sixteen I battled death eaters and won. It was at seventeen that the true story starts. My story and the chain reaction I commenced.
Hermione Granger was brooding, as was too being expected in her position. She had once again, as had her friends, tried to weasel her way into the meeting of the order of the phoenix. Once again they had been told they weren't allowed in the order meetings. Ron and Harry had tried every trick they knew, but without Fred and George there too help them it had been pointless.
Hermione did not like being unaware of the happenings around her. At the moment she was well aware of how out-of-the-loop she was. Several people, Mrs. Weasley included, saw the girl as a liability. No one knew her true capabilities, save a few: Minerva McGonagall, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Remus Lupin, and Severus Snape.
Hermione sighed and tried to turn her attention elsewhere. The dark room wasn't helping. It was a simple room, a bed, a dresser, a vanity and a night table. All was black.
She sat down at the vanity and stared hopelessly into the mirror. The way she looked now it was no wonder they regarded her as a liability. Her hair had been tamed with length. Her hair was slightly darker, a deep brown, curls framing a perfect face. Her eyes a dark brown, like a chocolate latte that could pierce you with a quick look, yet they hid many mysteries that seemed to lure men to her like flies to honey. She had filled out and received beautiful curves. She wasn't fat; she still retained her slim form.
She heard a clambering down stairs. Sighing she made her way to the hallway and down the stairs of number 12 grimmauld place.
"What happened!" she heard Ronalds' voice. Honestly.
"You don't need to know," Alaster said gruffly. Everything had changed.
"Mr. Moody, wouldn't it be more beneficial for us to at least have some basic information?" Hermione suggested.
Alastor Moody's mad eye swiveled to her.
"No," he said gruffly.
"But, I could help, I really could, with the hor…"
"What do you know about those?" Moody snapped, turning to glare suspiciously at the girl.
"Enough to know he couldn't have actually made them, he must have done something else, he would have felt it when Harry thrust that basilisks fang throw the diary!"
"C'mon Hermione, stop fooling around," Harry said, rolling his eyes.
Ron began laughing as if she had been joking.
Hermione blushed as the order members, save a few, began crying from laughter as they joined her friends.
"Good one 'mione," Ron said, through tears.
"Yeah," Hermione muttered, and left.
Hogwarts, Sept 2
"Hermione," Ron called, chasing her up the stairs.
Hermione ran faster. It was far easier in the normal robes, without her Hogwarts crests, then running with her school uniform.
"Ronald Weasley, I refuse to help you with your homework!" Hermione yelled at the top of her lungs.
The Weasley temper kicked in as he lunged for the girl. Hermione tripped, Ron grabbed her foot. She turned in midair and landed on her back. She yelped and kicked, propelling herself away and over the ledge.
Ronald Weasley didn't move. Screams sounded through the castle and its grounds, he still didn't move. Only when silence rang through the air like a bullet did he get up and look over the edge. No Hermione Granger, only Severus Snape with a spilt potion in hand.
