Prologue
It was a day just like any other. Students sat slumped in wooden desks in various classrooms around the school while their professors stood tall in front (unless you were Professor Flitwick) and gave the latest homework assignment. Some brave students protested because that very afternoon was the first quidditch match of the season: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. To no avail, homework was still assigned.
When the bell sounded round the castle, the corridors became the sites for stampedes. Boys and girls clamored over each other to get to their house quarters in order to ready themselves for the match. Frightened little first years were swallowed by the ocean of upperclassmen and spat back out into random crevices in the walls or unused classrooms. Many times one would emerge with strange bruises and empty pockets.
In spite of all the chaos, Albus Dumbledore sat serenely in his office as he gazed at letters and documents that dominated his worn desk. With a withered but skillful hand, he eased his half-moon spectacles from where they had slipped to the tip of his nose back to the bridge where they most comfortably laid. Though the skin on his face had grown lined and thin, his eyes still reflected the wisdom and curiosity of his true nature. No one could deny however that Dumbledore was of his own kind. With a long white beard that could easily be tucked into the rope binding his sapphire robes and the many odd trinkets decorating his office, some might underestimate his abilities and classify him as a weak and ignorant old wizard, which was truly not the case.
As Dumbledore was getting ready to leave for the quidditch arena, a knock on the door stopped him.
"Come in," said Dumbledore.
Minerva McGonagall entered quickly and shut the door behind her.
"I'm afraid the match will have to be postponed, Headmaster," McGonagall gasped as if she were out of breath. Her face was chalky white, and her dark eyes glistened slightly.
"Whatever is the matter, Minerva?" inquired Dumbledore seriously.
McGonagall wiped at her eyes with a handkerchief and took a few deep breaths took collect herself.
"I'm afraid," she said in a stronger voice, "that there has been another attack."
Dumbledore sighed. "Who was it this time?" he asked gravely.
"Hermione Granger."
The victims of the basilisk were all cured and returned to their normal lives in a matter of months. All except one Second Year, bushy haired girl. Days went by, which turned into weeks, then months, then entire years. Healers from all over the country came to try to figure out the mystery of Hermione Granger, but to no avail. No spell or potion could awaken the petrified girl. She became a permanent patient at St. Mungos and was visited often by her parents and best friends, Harry and Ron.
This all changed, however, on the seventh anniversary of her petrification when Hermione Granger went missing.
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A/N: I know this is super short but thanks so much for reading! Future chapters will definitely be longer don't worry, I just wanted to give a little taste before I threw it all out there. Reviews are very much appreciated! :)
-HarmoniaRose