Disclaimer: Harry Potter is unfortunately not mine. Though I have all the books...
Author's note: This is the first HP-fic I'm posting, all the others just don't... want to be written? It's quite infuriating.
Practical things you should know about my story: It's still being written but I have some chaps done. I will probably work in some elements from the movie-universe although it mostly will be the books I base my facts from.
The story is set after the Battle at Hogwarts (May 2nd 1998). In total disregard of the epilogue. It's hard writing interesting stuff with that 20-year plan hanging over your head!
And now to something completely different:
Melbourne, Australia. May 26th 1998
Hermione looked at the smoking heap that mere hours ago had been her parents Australian home. Inside were her parents bodies – dead, burned pieces of charcoal. The tears streak her ashen face with clear paths and the dirty drops dripped slowly onto her once pretty white blouse.
It was hardly fair. She had had to turn her parents away while everything lasted, and now, when everything had ended and all was peaceful yet again, they were torn away from her.
They hadn't been hard to find. She knew what she had erased and what she had put in their minds instead, and Melbourne really wasn't that hard to remember.
They had been a bit hurt. To think that she would do something like that to them! Her parents! But they forgave her – of course they did – because she was their daughter – their sole daughter – and she had done it to protect them from something they couldn't fight themselves. There had been raised voices, there had been tears, but they had embraced her and stroked her hair, and told her that everything would be al right now, because they would be together. Be a family again.
So they had sent her to her hotel to cancel her reservation and gather her belongings. No daughter of theirs was to stay in a hotel room when they were so close by.
And she had done it. She happily collected the clothes she had thrown on the floor and the bed when she had tried to figure out to wear, because what do you wear when you restore your parents memories that you've yourself have erased? She'd flung everything into her trunk, returned the key with a brief goodbye, and dispparated within an hour.
And she had been too late.
She returned to her parents' new home to see tall flames kissing the sky lighting everything close by. She had fallen to her knees gasping for her breath as her heart seem to burst. She had somehow regained enough air to cry out for her parents, but nothing happened.
Nothing until now.
Loud plops indicated the arrival of fellow wizards and she slowly rose when a heavy hand was put on her shoulder. She cast a last look on the embers that should have been her life. Her new happy life.
She turned to face the aurors and hit wizards who was waiting for her, and swore to herself that the culprits would pay.
Retezat National Park, Romania. January 15th 2000
The group of educated hit wizards surrounded the old shed. Hermione could see them between he trees from her watching point. She wanted to be among the other witches and wizards, but without the proper education she was left with mapping-chores – which she was good at, no matter how dull it was. But now, at this very moment, she wished, she longed for a spot on the hit team. It was after all the Lestrange brothers they were capturing now.
The two men who killed her parents.
Kingsley had told her during the rebuilding of Hogwarts. She was taking a break from cleaning out the Room of Requirement, when he had walked up to her with doom written on his face.
Then he dropped the bomb.
She hadn't spoken to anybody for three days, just worked intensely on rebuilding the closest thing to home she had at the moment. But when it was done, and the castle once again stood proudly gazing over the lake, she wasn't content. A deep unsatisfied feeling in the pit of her stomach made her continue, building, rebuilding and restoring everything possible.
It wasn't until Ron forced her to sit down for a moment and consider what she was doing that she realized what she still had to do. So she broke up with him and volunteered as an uneducated hit wizard, with a lot of experience in the Dark Arts.
A lot more than some of the newbies who were now doing what she should be doing.
Killing her parents' murderers.
She gritted her teeth in exasperation and looked away from the wizards slowly nearing the old shed when she caught the small movement out of the corner of her eye. She withdrew the brand new wand she had gotten from Ollivander after the war and started towards the movement as quietly as humanly possible, carefully avoiding the crisp leaves and sticks that lay scattered around the forest. Her breath was visible as a small cloud of mist when she exhaled and and the air was so cold that it made every intake of breath made her teeth almost sing with pain. She crouched behind a small bush and held her breath. Adrenaline was pumping through her body when she noticed a bearded, hooded man frantically stuffing something into a bag. He collected the bag and started running towards another dark figure a few paces down.
They were going to apparate!
She threw a silent stunner after the running figure, the red flash hitting him square in the back thereby sending him flying a few feet forward. She started running when the other figure turned around gaping at his fallen brother. His gaze was hateful when he moved his eyes to Hermione's face and he raised his wand, pointing it at her. She stopped and flung the blue jet of light away with a flick of her wrist.
Protego, she thought as he cast another spell with a slashing motion and the purple light flashed towards her. Her shield sent the light back at the wizard hitting him in the chest. She was slightly panting but her entire body was alert and ready to counter his next attack, when he surprisingly fell to the ground shouting in pain. Hermione walked to his side while cautiously holding her wand in front of her. She couldn't see what was causing his agony and she wasn't sure if she wanted it to stop. She wasn't sure if it was real or some sort of trick. Kneeling beside him she watched him in wonder when the man stopped screaming and started whimpering helplessly instead. Rodolphus Lestrange, husband of the late Bellatrix Lestrange – the murderess of Siruis Black and her parents. His eyes were almost popping out of his head when he finally – finally – stopped whimpering and lied still on the hard, frozen ground. Hermione drew a sharp breath when she realized he was dead.
Grasping her wand hard in her hand, she straightened her legs and turned to examine the other Lestrange wizard. And stopped cold.
She couldn't move.
Her eyes widened in panic as the bearded younger Lestrange entered her line of sight with an ugly sneer on his face.
"You killed my brother!" He pointed his wand at her face with a look in his eyes that seemed disturbingly insane. "You will pay for this, little miss Granger." He sniggered as her eyes widened even more. "Yes I know who you are. I remember you parents." His face lighted into a form of amused lunacy. "I think I know how to-" The sound of distant voices disturbed him and Rastaban cast an annoyed glance over his shoulder. "I'm not done with you yet," he said as he grabbed her hand and apparated.
Hermione frantically tried to figure out her location, but there was no indicator, only a few trees scattered around her in a small valley surrounded by mountains. Is she had been able to move and hadn't been accompanied by one of the lunatics who killed her parents she might have taken a moment to savour the beauty around her. She probably wouldn't though, as she would have been too busy looking for the murderers, but you could always dream.
"As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted," a cold voice said and a dirty, bearded face entered her vision again. "I know what to do with you." He raised his wand and Hermione would have tightened her grip around hers if she had been able. "I think it would be hi-la-ri-ous if you forgot your grudge. Simply hilarious! Ooh! And about the war! Aaaaah, I think my plan just keeps getting better." His smile chilled her soul and made her heart hammer in her chest. "Obliviate."
Just a small prologue. The first real chapter will be up soon, after that I'm thinking about updating once a week. Or something... Maybe faster maybe slower. It depends on the bitch that calls herself my muse.