Albus Dumbledore frowned down at the letter on his desk, and, to his surprise, pure anger welled up inside him.
To think he had brought such a monster into this world!
As Albus gathered the necessities before leaving to attend to the matter at hand, he pondered this. While he had certainly not given birth to the lame excuse for a wizard, nor had he even been the child's father, it was still directly his responsibility that Tom Riddle, the boy he had literally introduced to the Wizarding world, was wreaking havoc on the Muggle-born children of the globe.
Therefore, he was filled with an odd mixture of shame, regret, and the obvious anger as he turned on his heel and popped into the home of ten-and-a-half year old Hermione Granger, whose parents sat, cold, and utterly dead, in their favorite reading chairs, the product of Avada Kedavra.
There was a strange ripping sound coming from behind the sofa. Somber, but curiosity peaked, Albus moved to investigate.
Ah.
The little girl sat there, her knees pulled tight into her chin, looking pale as parchment, rocking back and forth gently, her eyes slightly clouded and her gaze fixed on the floor in front of her.
"Hermione?" Albus asked tentatively. She flinched at the sound of her name being called, as if she had just literally been snapped back into reality like the harsh crack of a whip. However, she raised her numb gaze to meet his eyes, and, for a moment, Albus drowned in the honey-brown pools of sorrow.
A moment passed, and he murmured, "Hermione, my name is Albus Dumbledore."
She did not give any inclination that she was listening, but he seemed to know that she was, and continued on.
"I am here to take you away from here. I am going to help you." He continued soothingly.
"I won't go to an orphanage." She said in a tinkling high soprano, her voice wavering slightly, yet still being firm.
He chuckled. "Hermione, I have no intention to take you to an orphanage. I would like it very much if you would allow me to take you to a place called Hogwarts."
She paused, pondering a moment before inquiring, "What is Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore?"
Ever the bookish child, wanting to know every detail before making a statement.
"Hogwarts is a special school. We can teach you things that you would not learn in schools here. You are a very bright child, you know this, Hermione. You are gifted – far more gifted than even you can imagine. Please say that you'll come with me."
By the twinkle in his eyes, he could tell that she was sold from the moment he mentioned the fact that she would learn things others could not.
Timidly, he reached for her hand, but, to his intense surprise, the petite child who was more the size of a small five year old than one nearing eleven years of age crawled forward to where Albus was sitting, cross-legged by the side of the sofa, then proceeded to climb up into his lap, wrap her arms and legs about him, then bury her face in his long hair, her soft, shiny, dark curls glistening in the firelight.
He wrapped his arms about the slightly shaky child whom he was already so fond of, stood, and carried her out of the room.
Hermione decided to sneak a peek at her surroundings once they left the house, lifting Albus Dumbledore's silky hair out of her way to see quite the commotion.
People in the strange, long robes that this man was wearing were everywhere, occasionally accompanied by a small child around her age, for it was Take Your Child to Work Day in the Wizarding world, not that Hermione knew that, of course.
She and Albus Dumbledore walked past a man with long blonde hair, and her attention was drawn to the strikingly handsome, but also much, much shorter boy that stood at his side.
With cropped golden locks and fierce gray-green eyes, he was beautiful.
Hermione briefly forgot the tragedy that had just passed and continued to gawk at him like a fish.
His eyes locked with Hermione's, and he raised a hand in silent greeting.
Since Hermione's hands were occupied, she flashed him a dazzling smile that left him momentarily stunned.
Draco Malfoy heard the old man murmur something to the remarkably gorgeous little girl who had to be no more than seven, and then they both Apparated. The last sound he heard was a little gasp that surely belonged to the girl, and he let out a soft laugh. For sure, being a Muggle-born, that was her first Side-Along.
Then, he remembered that he had to act like he hated Muggle-borns, and put on a disgusted face for his father's benefit.
"Come, Draco," his Father said, and they inched closer to the house.
Meanwhile, Hermone Granger was in awe. As Albus – Professor Dumbledore – walked down the halls of Hogwarts with her wrapped tightly in his arms, feeling safe and secure, she would reach out and touch the brick in amazement, trying to certify that this was real.
Every now and then, people would walk by – students, she presumed, and they would gawk at her. She would smile at every one of them and call out, "Hello!"
Dazed, they would wander away, sometimes leaning down to converse with someone, if they were traveling in flocks.
The Professor murmured, "Acid Lollies", and a stone statue leaped away from its original place to reveal a door. He opened it and ascended the spiral staircase, then opened another door.
There were people waiting in the room for them, and they were all trying to get a good look at her.
She was uncomfortable – they kept looking at her like they pitied her.
As the Professor continued his dreadfully slow stride toward his desk, the stares grew so powerfully uncomfortable that Hermione snapped, "What, didn't your mummy teach you that staring is rude?"
The gawkers' eyes widened, and two of the three chuckled.
"Quite a temper this one has, Albus," The older, stricter chuckling woman murmured. She had a very prominent jawbone, and a large, pointy hat.
Professor Dumbledore chuckled too, and placed her in a big, cushiony chair lined with red velvet.
"Hermione?" He murmured. "Is there anything I can get you? Would you like some tea? Are you hungry? Cold?"
She shivered a bit. "C-could I, maybe, have a blanket, please, sir?"
"Of course," He chuckled, then waved a stick around in the air. A blanket appeared out of nowhere. He gently laid it out over Hermione's lap.
"Thank you, sir."
"You are quite welcome, my love."
There was a bit of quiet.
Finally, the grouchy man in the corner, the one who had not chuckled, grew irritated and sighed, the sound dripping exasperation.
"Albus, what are we going to do with her? Why, she's scant seven years old!"
"I'm ten and a half, I'll thank you!" I exclaimed, outraged at his assumption.
He snorted.
"It is not humorous, Severus. She is indeed almost eleven."
The man named Severus abruptly quieted.
Then, he began to stutter.
"B-b-but that's p-preposterous. She's so petite."
Albus began to retell them of the nights events, and Hermione grew bored of this lame redundancy.
Yawning, she stretched her arms upward and then pulled her blanket up to her shoulders, slanting slightly on the chair so she could curl up and sleep. This world, seemingly magical, had erased all the sorrow from her mind, for the time being. She knew, subconsciously, that she would grieve at a later date, but for now, she was tired, and the memories would not haunt her when she was wrapped in this lovely, soft blankie…
Albus, Minerva, Poppy, and Severus all glanced over at the heap of limbs in the chair once a light snore filled the room.
Her angelic face was so peaceful, it was heartbreaking.
They forgot all about their conversation, just watching the girl sleep for a moment.
She snuggled into the red velvet, and then sighed contentedly.
"Albus," Minerva cooed. "She's precious."
Severus snorted. "How very Gryffindor of you, Minerva."
"You watch, Severus. My bet is that she goes into a different house."
"After what she's been through tonight? Please. That hat will think she's a shoo-in for your house."
"Well, we'll just have to see tomorrow night then, won't we, Severus?"
"Indeed."
Their attention returned to the girl, and Minerva and Poppy let out one final coo before leaving Dumbledore's office.
Albus conjured a comfortable bed nearby, then lifted the girl gently into it, tucking her beneath the covers.
"May your dreams be sweet, Hermione Granger. I think this could be a brand new beginning for you."