I woke up, brow covered in sweat. Looking down at my hands, I can feel my newfound power radiating off them. As I sit up, I take a closer look and I can see the power, it's like a spider web of aching blue and red. The colors mix and separate, I subconsciously make the connection to how they act like the kids at school do. Making and losing friends faster than I could blink. I walk towards the bathroom to brush my teeth, wondering when I became more than them. When I became more than the girl who would cower behind the corner of the ancient brick school with a book, hoping the bullies would seek out a new target that day. I was powerless to stop them, until now. Isn't life weird? Just last year I was powerless and the day school let out I now have these powers.

I flick my finger towards my toothbrush and it comes speeding into my hand. It clatters to the tile floor as I stare, mesmerized, at the blue trail the left in its wake. I've never seen that happen before.

I bend down to pick up my pink toothbrush, feeling more alive than I ever have before. I can feel the energy, power radiating off me, in me. I feel as if I could move a mountain. What's happening to me?

After a quick breakfast of fried tomatoes, eggs, toast, and crisp spinach, I run outside faster than I ever have before. It's about ten when I get to the library, due to open any minute. It's my favorite place, second only to the loving, welcoming arms of my foster parents. Remembering my real parents always brings me down, strands of guild linger in my mind, even though I had nothing to do with their murder.

~Flashback~

"HERMIONE! RUN," my mom shouts over the noise. It was all I could hear, despite the racket there was.

I sprint down the stairs, away from the intruder. A single shot rang out and time seems to stand still. I know what has happened. I hear my mom screaming as if there is a mile between us, even though it couldn't have been more than a handful of yards, "NOOOOOOOOOO! DAN! DAN TALK TO ME! TALK TO ME! I HOPE YOU FUCKING GO HELL!"

One more shot rings out through the moonlit night and everything goes silent to me. I hear laughter, insane laughter. Footsteps echo as the masked man, or woman (man if the voice is anything to go off of), walks down the unfinished wood stairs. OH FUCK. I SHOULD RUN, WHY CAN'T I RUN. The footsteps grow louder, "Oh little girl, I know you're there. If you comply, I might pleasure you before I kill you."

More laughter. Why aren't the cops here yet?

I grab a knife off the rack above the sink. I hide behind the corner of the wall. The intruder speaks again, "I hear you, what was your name? Hermione if I remember. I hear you, I'm gonna get you, little girl."

I can practically hear my heart beating through my now developing chest. Zzzip. My breath catches in my throat. The realization hits me square on, Oh my god. I peek around the corner, careful not to expose the glinting knife. He walks over, displaying everything to the world, shameless. What the fuck is he on?

He reaches the corner now or never, I swing the knife. The blade glows blue with power, humming a melody only I can hear. It's entrancing, captivating all my attention. A sick thud tells me I found my mark. Blood splatters from his chest, coating my hand in the sticky substance. The wound gleams in the pale moonlight, barely present through the curtains. The gash runs from his left shoulder to his heart. I pulled out the knife and sunk it into flesh again. And again. And again. With one last convulsion, he is still.

I fall to my knees, tears ebbing themselves from the corners of my sapphire eyes. Tearing themselves free. Forcing me to be weak. Weak. They are tears of pity. For my parents. For him. For his family. For me. For me.

Everything goes black. Why me? What did I do to deserve this?

~End flashback~

I shudder, despite it being well over eighty degrees. That was over a year ago. The guilt and self-doubt had immobilized me for the better part of a month. I could still move, but I couldn't, wouldn't respond. That was until I saw the power again. A man I had never met came to see me in the hospital, just for a few minutes, only to tell me I did the right thing and I should be proud of what I did, not necessarily the killing part, but being able to defend myself. The man wore a cloak with a cowl covering his face, all that was visible of him was his wrinkled hands and his white beard. He was surrounded by the blue substance, entwining with his beard, floating through his black cloak.

It had stabilized me, given me a purpose to live again. The doctors called it a miracle, I called it a psychological breakthrough. A milestone for me, even though I was a shadow of my previous self, it still gave me hope, and most important of all, it gave me motivation.

That's why I was at the library. To find out what I had seen was. To find out what was happening to me. I've already been through half of the local library, not the children's books or the stories, but the historical accounts, the books on mythology. I was no longer an empty shell deprived of emotions. I grasped every loose string, clinging on for dear life, begging for answers. Anything I could possibly work on, anything I could use. Anything.

I pulled open a copy of Introduction to Ancient Religions, the dust billowing off the leather bound book. I seriously doubted anyone had touched the book in the last century. So far, it had been my best source of information. It gave accounts of men and women, mostly men since a woman was hung if they mentioned having the same 'power' the men had, who had claimed to see blue 'spirits' Most likely close what I'm seeing. Those men were priests, saints, they where idolized. If you were one, you were given riches to rival the wealthy today. They were given free rein of the village or town they were located in, leading to more than a few supposed rapes. If they were accused, they just claimed the accusator was possessed or that they were senile and had been sent by the devil to take the 'holy men' down. That of course worked and the women where hanged.

I was absolutely disgusted with the way we were treated back then, but the book gave me a start. Most of all, it gave me meaning in life. It gave me a lead. It gave me purpose again. It gave me something. Anything.

~Start of School~

I was super excited to start school, I already knew what classes I had that day, having called days ago out of anxiety. I sprang out of bed, rushed into the bathroom and once again attempted to tame my bushy hair, only to be greeted by limited success. After a hasty meal of oatmeal and yogurt with a glass of milk, I practically ran to the car, my foster mom in tow.

After a short drive to the school, I grabbed my book bag and hopped out of the car, boots satisfyingly thudding on the asphalt. I looked around at my new school in awe. The building was made to look like a castle or was at some point a castle. The grand clock was five minutes until eight thirty, school started at eight forty-five. There where students flooding into the building main entrance, the double doors stuck to magnets (The only obviously modern thing).

I quickly walked up to the doors with the mob of students There must be more than a thousand kids here. Once inside the building the hall I followed for a few minutes opened up into a massive chamber, four corridors splitting off. One per grade I presumed.

I took the first one labeled 5th. I skipped down the hall, the rest of the students giving me a wide berth. I took note of my treatment but paid it no mind. When I arrived at my first class of the day, math, the teacher was waiting behind his desk. I skipped in, "Hello sir. Where should I sit? I'm so excited for today."

A chuckle escaped the young man, he couldn't have been more than twenty-eight, he spoke up, "It's always good to have an enthusiastic student. Please wait to be seated. You'll be sitting here," he pointed to a desk in the middle of the room.

I wished I could already be at my desk, I wished with all my might that class would start. Crack. I was sitting at my desk. Luckily the teacher had left the room so no one had seen. I hastily stood up and walked back to the front of the room, all while wondering what the fuck happened to me.

For the rest of the class, I felt light headed and tired despite ten hours of sleep the night before, not to mention a healthy and balanced meal. What the fuck just happened to me?

I left the class feeling satisfied that the class was challenging yet fun, but also confused as to what the purpose of seating us students so far from each other. When I stepped into the hall, there was a boy, probably four or five years older than my ten-year-old self.

He stared at me threateningly, not thinking, I spoke, clearly, a violation in the boy's primitive mind "What do you want?"

He just laughed and started towards me, the teacher was helping a student who was staying behind for a few minutes to catch up what they missed at the beginning. Frantically I turned and tried to run into the crowd, but the massive boy grabbed me.

Frantically I wished he would stop I was kicking and trying to scream, but he had a hand over my mouth. Why the students were just watching was a mystery to me. I wish he would stop. I wish he would die. I want to cause him as much pain as I can. I want to burn his face, watch the skin burn, melt, twist, distort. I want to see him in pain. I want him to hurt.

I put my will and very being into the thought as I had before. With a burst of (red) energy the boy went flying back, he landed on his ass but when his goons got to him he still hadn't moved. The students lining the halls watching the fight looked at his face and puked. I moved closer to get a look, only to see that the boy's face had melted away and his heart was bursting from his chest.

The situation was disorientation. All I could do was laugh. I had no problems for a while. That's two I've killed. How? Then I passed out from physical and magical exhaustion.

~Shopping~

It was a week before Halloween and I was out shopping with my foster parents to get candy and a costume. I had already decided on being a witch, with an ugly wart on her long nose. It's fucking dumb that witches are the bad 'guys' and the wizards get all the good wrap.

One of the boys whose friend had died, I had killed him and I was damn proud, sauntered up, "Oh, nice witch costume, it fits you," with a sneer he spat, "Go back to whatever hell you came from you fucking witch."

What if, the breath caught in my throat What if I really am a witch.

I imagined the boy hanging, rope around his neck, the end fraying in age. I wished with all of my heart, all of my soul, that he would die.

The next day we had a ceremony in his honor.

The rest of the year passed without incident.

~Home~

I woke up to an owl pecking at my window. A fucking owl. It had a letter attached to it so I let the snow-white bird in. I ripped open the letter, breaking the complex seal. Inside was a letter saying that Professor McGonagall was coming to explain to me about the wizarding, or witching, I can see why they go with the wizarding world.

They, I, was right. It's where I should be Where I'll fit in. Someplace I'll belong. Something. Anything.

AN - WOW. I really liked how this turned out. Hope you liked it. I'm going to take down Problems of the Past soon and completely rewrite it, save for the very beginning. I'm keeping the concept and characters, but I feel (And so do others) that it needs a serious rewrite.

~ HP fan