(A.N. – This is my first story on FF.N in a very, very long time. I'm not new here, no, I've been a member since 2000, but we all need new beginnings every now and then. This story is, in effect, a new beginning, and one that I'm very proud of. We should see updates rather frequently, but classes are very hard to keep up with these days so I will try to do my best. I love this story, however, and I hope you will as well, so I will be working on it constantly, posting every chance I get.
The idea is, in essence, probably rather original. As you will see in later chapters, I've chosen to go against many of the pre-supposed ideas we have about what happened after the books, what happened to certain characters, etc. This chapter may seem slow-moving, but the chapters I am still working to complete are certainly nothing of the sorts. I think you will like it, and I hope that you'll like the portrayal of the characters and how they come to work together.
Rated for possible content in the future, Romance for the character who you will see introduced shortly in our next chapter…:) I think you'll liiiiiiiike him… hahaha. Well, I do at least, hehe. I'm very excited about the next chapter…
Anyway, go on then, read! And I would love some reviews, hehe. Considering I've been gone for a few years and I've decided to come out blindly once again, I might be needing some encouragement, hahaha.
As always, JK Rowling and Warner Bro.'s own everything, blah blah blah…)
She could still see the last few days of school as clear as if it was yesterday. First years weeping over the loss of their headmaster, the professors stoicly gathered around Dumbledore's tomb, unable to come to terms with what had happened to their mentor, and Harry Potter as he looked on in the ceremony, almost certainly knowing more about Dumbledore's death than anyone else at the Funeral but still the most confused with his emotions.
Out of all of this confusion thus came Hermione, equally unsure of where she stood now as she was when she first boarded the train out of Hogwarts, not knowing whether she would return or not. Had life really changed so much in these short few weeks? Did the world really become so frightening, so unkind in this little amount of time, that even she should be afraid to walk down the streets of her neighbourhood?
It had, it had, and no matter what she did there was no way to make it better. Sirius was gone. Professor Dumbledore was gone. Harry and Ron could not be any farther, and she was left in exile in her muggle home.
Members of the Order, of course, visited her daily, making sure Hermione was safe and the protective charms on her house were up to date, being sure that her parents were keeping themselves in check. As muggles, Hermione's parents, a pair of professional dentists, could not be more horrified of the situation, but over the three weeks Hermione had been home for vacation, they had grown used to the idea. No longer did witches and wizards apparating in and out of their living room in the early hours of the morning or during the eleven o'clock news unnerve them, but they were certainly not enjoying it.
When can I see them, Hermione questioned Tonks every morning over breakfast as she appeared in Hermione's kitchen for a piece of toast and a check-up. When can I go back to Harry and Ron. Why can't we bet together.
"It's complicated," Tonks would reply tirelessly, buttering her muffin as Hermione's parents looked on, observing her frequently-changing hair with curiosity, "You three have to return home. You have to be with your families. We have no use for you right now, Hermione, I'm sorry. You want to help, I know," Tonks would always defend herself, catching a reproachful state, "But it's too dangerous at the Order. No one knows where they stand yet, even the Death Eaters seem confused… it's complicated. And we have to get our bearings. For now, watch…"
"Watch the muggle news, read the paper, keep an eye out on the daily prophet… look for anything suspicious. I know, you tell me every time I ask, Tonks. Please, I want to help, I need to help. I can't do this any more." Hermione would persist seriously, her toast always lying uneaten on her plate. This was not a time for eating, this was a time for answers, and she needed them now. She could not spend another day in this home, not knowing where her friends were, being forbidden to contact them, and still having little to no idea of what was really going on in the wizarding world.
"I'll let you know, okay? You're not the only one with frustrations right now… can you imagine how Harry must feel?"
Hermione sighed and looked down to her uneaten toast. She could only imagine, she would tell Tonks, because she was not allowed to contact him, but she kept her mouth shut. She knew it was unfair to challenge Tonks on something she had no control over.
"Listen," Tonks sighed, taking pity in Hermione's sad state at the breakfast table. "I'll see what I can do, okay? Okay? We love you, Hermione, just don't do anything crazy. See you soon." She offered a smile, briefly kissed Hermione on the cheek and, with her muffin in hand, would apparate.
And that's how the trouble began.
Deprived of any true access to the wizarding world, Hermione began to do her research, devoting herself to solving the matter of the missing horcruxes. She searched tirelessly for the location of the Horcrux that had resulted in Dumbledore's suicide mission. RAB. The only clue they'd received, the only thing to hint even an inkling towards what had happened to the Horcrux, and possibly so many others. Given the information, mere letters, one would think it would be next to impossible to determine where to look, where to seek out the treasured object. But she wasn't at the top of her class for nothing. Hermione had narrowed it down skillfully within a few secret sittings at the London National Library of Wizarding Arts, and the results she'd found were not exactly surprising. Regulus Black. The Black Family.
It may have been simply name, simply a family that spanned thousands of years of wizarding history, but it was a start if ever there was one. Tonks and the Order had forbidden her from traveling into wizarding areas. Neighbourhoods, shops, and Diagon Alley especially, but after her brief foray at the wizarding library that led to such a discovery, how could Hermione turn her back on the quest? She could tell Tonks, but they had probably already found the information out themselves. Hermione was smart, but there was a reason the Order included such distinguished members, because they were smart too. Tonks would never tell her, she knew Hermione would run with the information. But she should have known that Hermione wouldn't stay away from doing her research. Given this information, Hermione knew what she had to do.
It was thus on a cold morning that Hermione left her muggle home in the south end of London for Diagon Alley. She needed Black family records. Real estate, careers, businesses owned, distinguished members, anything she could get her hands on to really pinpoint a possible location of the missing Horcrux. It could be anywhere, but Hermione would never find it without the proper resources. She'd been to every Geneaology section of every wizarding library, in fact only two, in the entirety of London seeking out such records. When she told the librarian what she was looking for, however, the grew rather frightened and either turned cold as ice or directed her to the opposing library. It was at the second library that Hermione had found a librarian willing to cope with her request. Unwillingly, the woman instructed her to Knockturn Alley, a small store of which the name was almost unpronounceable. Owned by a Lebanese fellow, the librarian exclaimed, never revealing how she knew this information. The library had removed the records Hermione was looking for in an auction not long ago. Mostly historians were collecting the records that not only included the Black family but also many other prominent dark wizarding families, but there were shop keepers and ministry officials on hand as well. According to the librarian's files, the books Hermione was looking for should be in the Lebanese man's possession now, most certainly not sold off yet. No, they had only been liquidated three years ago, and there was no one person in their right mind that would go looking for such things… the librarian was sure to give Hermione a very pointed look at this point. No, the books should still be there, and the woman gave her an address.
London in the morning was, really, almost the same as London in the afternoon. Or the evening. Or the middle of the night, for that matter. Nothing stopped moving. The sleek black cabs that raced up and down the streets recklessly, occasionally accepting or spewing riders, still swung dangerously around corners, threatening the safety of all who treaded the crosswalks. Diagon Alley proved to be just as busy as well, crowded with hundreds of plump witches and wizards and their offspring, albeit much more cautious than usual. Things inside Diagon Alley had a much more dangerous, secretive air than things out in Muggle London, as if the Londoners outside were missing out on a horribly bad joke. Inside Diagon Alley, ministry officials lined the pathways outside of stores, hit wizards perched on the corner with one hand on their wand and the other on their belt, waiting for the slightest glimpse of trouble. The children didn't seem to pay them much attention, but their parents had clearly become much more aware of their surroundings since Hermione had traveled here last year to purchase school clothes.
Whisking through the crowds amongst the shoppers, she felt like a snake, almost, as if she didn't belong there. Hermione was forbidden by the order from traveling here, that was true, but there was something else about it. Did these people around her know that she was Hermione Granger? That she was friend to Harry Potter, the boy who had both saved them and initiated all of this tension and panic? They must not have, for the patrons barely paid her any attention, a mousy girl in muggle jeans and a pony-tail. She drifted in between the crowds as fluidly as a house elf, unseen by all and certainly unimportant. No one paid her any attention, certainly not the hit wizard assigned to the entrance of Knockturn Alley, and Hermione found herself slipping into the murkier parts of wizarding London without a single question.
Knockturn Alley was, in comparison to Diagon Alley and London outside, radically different. It looked like a muggle western set in Modern Day England. There were shops with their lights on, the occasional vendor perched on the side of the street, but there were hardly any patrons. Those that did emerge from the stores moved swiftly with their cloaks up around their faces, masking their eyes. They behaved like middle aged men leaving an adult bookstore, their purchases tucked under their cloaks offering no glimpse to what it was they had purchased before the men and women of dark origin disappeared into the alley-ways, leaving an empty street once more.
Here, there were no ministry officials standing on the corners, regulating every move, watching for trouble. There was no point, they must have decided, for Knockturn Alley was an absolute seedling of dark wizards. There was no point in keeping watch for they knew that each and every one of these stores was breeding some kind of dark magic in some way. Perhaps they didn't have evidence, but it was common knowledge, and no sensible human being would ever think to enter Knockturn Alley, especially in such desperate times.
For these reasons, of course, it could be said that Hermione was no sensible human being.