Disclaimer: What do you mean, I don't own Harry Potter? :(
Loneliness was a steep, slippery staircase into madness.
It was something Hermione Granger was all too familiar with, the desolation and emptiness that stalked society's outcasts, that sinking feeling one experienced when they awoke to yet another friendless, monotonous day. After all, what was she but the very epitome of 'outcast'? From the very beginning, before she was even aware of the existence of the vicious, two-faced society of magicals, she had already been deemed as "weird", a "teacher's pet" and the "ostracized know-it-all weird things always happened to".
Hermione Granger. Classic definition of socially inept.
She had, of course, tried to befriend her peers, and assimilate into the crowd, but the sad reality was that over ninety percent of her peers had not even heard of the word assimilate. It figured that this led to great misunderstandings. ("Huh? Ass-immigrate? I-I'll ass-immigrate you!") Simplifying her words outraged them, explaining words sparked snide comments and spite, and not speaking at all won her a wide berth from her classmates. In short, she was stuck. Go figure.
Her parents, of course, realized that she was extraordinarily intelligent for her age, and not having any other children to compare it to, never truly realized the extent of the gap between her and her peers. Her natural maturity and quick wit led them to treat her as more of a close friend than a coddled daughter at times. She was debating with them over controversial topics like prostitution and homosexuality from young, and it never occurred to them to shield her from the horrors of the modern world. After all, she was smart enough to know they were bad, was she not?
Perhaps it was because of her childhood that she grew incapable of effective communication with her peers, being too accustomed to concise, elaborate conversations which her classmates clearly failed to provide. After all, it was hard to hold a decent conversation if you could not understand over half the words the other party was saying.
Eventually, Hermione learnt to speak in a way that was still slightly confusing, but comprehensible, yet sadly the damage was done. Her reputation as an ill-fitting prodigy who ought to simply "bugger off to wherever geniuses go" had already been firmly established in others' minds, and as everyone knows, the slate can never be completely wiped clean.
It was all right, though. Hermione had never experienced true friendship, for what kind of friends only approached her for help with homework? She had never had a true friend to lose, so she was fine with being solitary. Really.
Another rare, appreciated solace in her secluded world were her teachers. Once they got past the fact that a child so much younger than them was capable of intelligent conversation, she became a popular lunch mate for her teachers, particularly after they realized she did not have many friends in school. So the teachers became her friends, and they began to see her more as an acquaintance than a student. She never really associated with those her age anyways,
Unfortunately, being often accompanied by teachers made her a target. She became the teacher's pet, the nerd girl, the outcast. And this, ironically, pushed her closer to her teachers, causing the bullying to worsen. A vicious cycle.
Just when she had thought it was time to retaliate against her classmates, so show them she was more than that, that she could put her mind to be dangerous too, a lifeline appeared in the form of a swooping owl with a letter in its talons. A place of magic! An explanation for all the unnatural things that occurred around her! A wand! A witch! Broomsticks! Magical books! Spells! A new school! A new hope!
Or so she had thought.
Hermione was more perceptive than most people gave her credit for, She saw the looks some of the richly dressed, aristocratic people at the train platform gave her parents and her, the charged animosity between older students wearing different coloured ties, the strange isolation those students with green ties experienced, and felt a pang of sympathy for them. She knew how it felt like to be judged and thrown away like unwanted trash.
The most memorable thing she saw was the easy camaraderie those with red ties had with others, the easy amicability they established casually and effortlessly. She felt humbled, and more than a little jealous. It was later, while getting on the train that she realized the ties' colours most likely symbolized the house they had been sorted into, so to speak. Red was… Gryffindor? Known for their bravery and boldness. Well, that did not resemble Hermione in the slightest. Inwardly, she sighed, already knowing that people would immediately judge her to be a bookworm and most likely place her in Ravenclaw.
Imagine her surprise when the sorting hat sifted through all her thoughts, her knowledge, her plans, and secretly, quietly told her that although it did consider her to be very suited to Ravenclaw, he felt torn between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Slightly bemused at those two final options('Cunning and sneaky or brave and rash? Mr. Sorting Hat, you must be growing senile.' The hat snorted in amusement.), Hermione was eventually sorted into Gyffindor. Success!
Swiftly, Hermione learnt that the house of Gryffindor was not all sunshine and daisies, and quite frankly regretted not being sorted into Ravenclaw after the first few days. It became apparent that her memorization of the textbook and out-performance of her peers was not appreciated, and this time she did not even have her teachers to support her. Trying to associate with Ravenclaws was apparently against one of the unspoken rules of Hogwarts, you could chat with, befriend and even date those from other houses, but in no circumstances could you be best friends with anyone from another house, or both parties would be subjected to social disgrace. Thus, she retired early, awoke early and ate breakfast when most were still sleeping, disappeared between classes to empty classrooms in secluded places of the castle, and basically alienated herself.
Things were just the same here, Hermione mused, no better than the Muggles that Magicals seem to look down upon. Ha! And here she had thought she would have been accepted. Well, twice had she been fooled, but no more.
The paintings were kind, but even she had to admit that it was truly a deplorable position to be in when your best friend was an animated picture of a long-dead woman. At least, the woman was smart, witty and sarcastic, and sometimes she was joined by others just as fascinating as her. How Hermione wished she could have met them in real life! They were such lovely people.
Her days passed in the hazy blandness of routine until the day came. That day. The one she would never forget. In a way, she both wished that day never happened, yet was eternally grateful it came to pass. After all, it was on that day that she found her calling.
On Halloween, Hermione Granger ran, distraught, to cry in the bathroom when Ronald Weasley insulted her.
On Halloween night, a mountain troll appeared and attacked the bathroom she was in. By the time the professors came, they were too late.
One week after Halloween, Hermione Granger awoke from her coma to an apologetic Ronald Weasley, a furious pair of parents and deeply ashamed professors.
At one go, Hermione Granger lost her sight in one eye, partial use of her right hand and any good looks she might have possessed.
At one go, Hermione Granger began the path that would make her one of the most feared witches in Great Britain, and indeed, the whole world
"Ms. Granger, we are deeply and terribly ashamed of what happened. Please accept our sincere apologises and should you require anything, we would be most eager to provide it. We take the safety of our students very seriously, Ms. Granger, and this incident has brought to our attention that the safety measures at Hogwarts are sorely lacking. We are searching for the culprit as we speak, and you, as well as your parents, will be notified immediately should we find him.
"To ensure your comfort while you recover, I will personally ensure you are not harassed by more… aggressive reporters. Should you decide to leave Hogwarts, your school fees and compensation will be transferred back to you, and we will do our best to heal you as much as possible."
Albus Dumbledore was far more solemn than Hermione had ever seen him, and he seemed to radiate sincerity and sorrow. This did not endear him to Hermione, who just wanted to take whoever did this to her and make him suffer, not stay here like the helpless invalid she was. Embittered, Hermione looked at Dumbledore in frustration, a restless, horrible feeling constantly swirling under her skin, reminding her of what she had been through, as if the horrific scarring and the images of the troll that had burned themselves on the back of her single remaining eyelid were not enough. The phantom pain assaulted her at night and she muffled her tears into her pillow, refusing to drink the Dreamless Sleep potions, for that would mean she had truly lost.
She was as recovered as she could be now, she knew, but the feeling that Dumbledore and his professors were simply not doing enough still brought forth her rage. Stifling a growl, she instead rasped out, "We-eas-ley."
Any light Dumbledore had in his eyes instantly disappeared as the mood darkened. "Ah."
Hermione waited in silence.
"Mr. Weasley has expressed his extreme regret for his actions that day. He was, in fact, very worried about you while you were unconscious. I believe he is-"
Hermione could not take it anymore. "B-Bull-shit."
She had heard enough. Closing her eyes and ignoring Dumbledore's protests, she settled back against the pillows of the bed at the Hospital Wing and proceeded to 'fall asleep'. She had doubts about how convinced Dumbledore was, but that point, she no longer really cared. She just wanted to recover as soon as possible, gain as much power as she could, and enact her vengeance on the reason for her misery. Relying on the authorities was pointless for as far as she could see, those in power here were bigots and pathetic, and none of those actually cared about her, possibly not even Dumbledore.
How could she count on such an unreliable group?
Her resolve was formed. She would grow powerful, and she would rid the wizarding world of the rot that was killing it from the inside.
When Hermione Granger returned to Hogwarts, everyone treated her differently, which was not unexpected.
A fierce fight, the worst she had ever had with her parents, had eventually convinced her parents of her determination to return to that 'no-good, security risk, sorry excuse of a school'. Quote, unquote. Understandably, everyone had their reservations about her return, but for her, the kiddy gloves were off, so to speak. Everyone was suddenly so nice, so understanding, so sympathetic, as if they understood how it felt like to have half your face bashed in by a troll. Hermione could practically taste the fakeness in the air, and their agendas were so obvious-did they really think her that oblivious?
Writing with her right hand proved difficult, so she trained to be ambidextrous, and the teachers never commented on her now atrocious handwriting, a fact she was immensely grateful for. She now used a magical eye in place of her previous one, and although she would have preferred to have her normal eye back, she had to admit that having a magical eye had many perks, as she could now see through walls and apparently through invisibility cloaks, as well as having 360 degree vision. Very handy.
Professor Flitwick had charmed her a bracelet, which allowed her to call for assistance from a house elf and doubled as a glamour charm, so that her appearance would be normal and unscarred to the naked eye.
She suddenly liked Professor Flitwick a little. Well, that was more than she could say for the rest of the alumnus. Especially Ronald Weasley.
As the months passed by with a politely distanced, appropriately regretful Ronald Weasley, scattered whispers and rumours of those around her, and teachers who evidently avoided her with the exception of a few, Hermione slowly grew more angry, more depressed, more disillusioned with the world around her. As she drifted apart from the world, her perception of it twisted into something ugly, and deeply unpleasant.
Hermione Granger hated the Wizarding World.
Please review! :D Any constructive criticism or pointing out of grammer/spelling mistakes would be appreciated! I'm planning on making this into a chaptered story unless no one likes it. XP