School: Hogwarts
Year: 2
Theme: Wronski Feint
Prompts:
"Someday you'll be old enough to read fairy tales again" - C.S. Lewis (Quote) [Main]
"I believe I can fly" - R. Kelly
"Scared?" Said [Person A]. "You wish," said [Person B]
A/N: This was originally a OneShot but each section had so much taken out of it that I had to go back, re-add and just extend the whole thing. So the first of the altered parts.
Careful Planning is Key
Did you know that fairy tales only show one side of the story? Did you know most "heroes" are villains, but it's their story so none of their faults are shown? Did you know that most villains have more to their story than we're told? How do I know this? I'm Life. And yes, when I say Life, I mean 'When Life gives you lemons, make lemonade,' that Life. Don't pretend you don't know who I am. I can see you cursing me through my mirror for all your bad fortune. That was me, but don't worry. Just keep going. It'll get better. I don't know when but it will. That winning streak you've had? Don't get attached. My plans for you are about to drastically change as far as I'm aware.
While smoking my pipe in my comfortable rocking chair – it's mahogany with red leather cushions and perfect for someone as important as me – I watch your lives and occasionally interfere, but not too much. You have to make your own bad decisions sometimes. I can only make a certain number of choices in your lives and then, I have to watch the outcomes. If circumstances don't go the way you want, the chances are that they aren't going the way I wanted either. Sometimes Life makes a bad decision. That is something that I have to accept.
Have you ever noticed that fairy tales come with the perfect ending? They always end with the dashing prince rescuing the princess and they lived happily ever after. One little girl – Hermione Granger – noticed this pattern, but she knew her parents' love story, and thought fairy tales came true. Her mother read her stories of princesses and pirates from a large book every night, and with each story, Hermione fell more in love with fairy tales. Her dreamy brown eyes sparkled with each troublesome fight before the happy ending. I noticed that she always looked annoyed when a short story was read. It seemed like she felt cheated, like there wasn't enough of a fight for the happy ending. And yet, despite the length of the lead up, Hermione always accepted the happy ending. She always went to sleep with a smile on her face, planning her own happy ending.
The problem with her planning her own happiness is that in my possession is a book with all of your endings. They vary in details. They can be happy or sad, drawn-out or abrupt. Each one is meant to be perfectly matched to the individual that it belongs to. I clicked my fingers and the pages flicked to Hermione's story; the quick, blissful end came into view. My gaze returned to the sleeping child's image shimmering in the mirror. I knew if I allowed this story to continue without problems, she wouldn't be as happy as she could be. A little tweak and my perfect plan would come into effect. She would have the fight that's required before she gets her happiness. "I'm sorry, Hermione," I whispered to the image. "This is the way it must be." With a snap of my fingers, I extended her story; my plan would take effect, all in good time.
I watched Hermione as she grew. The more I watched the young girl, the fonder I grew of her. She was a bright spark in a dull world and because of that, there were times when I felt sick knowing how I misdirected her life. Watching her be bullied for her bookworm nature felt like a stab to my chest. I had given her this troublesome route. The images of her being surrounded by older children pointing fingers, getting closer and taunting her still haunt me.
The day she went to Hogwarts, I was there. Well, not there, obviously, but I was watching. I watched her that morning as she tucked her fairy tale book into her trunk beneath the uniforms and spare clothes. I watched her kind nature help the strange boy with the toad. Now that was a child with a story, but another time. I grew angry at the red-headed boy who didn't appreciate Hermione's intellect. I was there knowing that someone had to keep an eye on her. As she came in contact with the magical world, the pure joy on her face was a memory that I'll keep forever. One good amongst all the bad.
Anyone who followed Hermione through her school years would have thought her becoming friends with Harry Potter (Yes, THE Harry Potter) and Ron Weasley was the luckiest thing ever. But for me, I couldn't forgive young Weasley for bullying her; for not even giving her a chance on the train. She was just trying to prove her worth. If anything, that's where I realised my change was coming into effect. She was different in the "Muggle" world, she would always be bullied, but here, she was bullied for being intelligent by someone that she would become friends with.
The day Ron told the boys that, 'It's no wonder she's got no friends," I glared at him as she pushed past him in tears. No-one else seemed to notice that she walked into the young pale-haired boy who looked confused at her retreating form. He stalled, and looked like he wanted to follow her. He looked concerned for the smartest Muggle-born witch he'd ever met. She was different to everything he'd been thought and that seemed to confuse him. Thankfully, he remembered his upbringing, so with a frown, he shook his head and moved on. Later that night, she was rescued by the troll and those boys entered her life.
Despite becoming friends with them, the bullying didn't really stop. That red-head continued to belittle Hermione despite being "friends". From watching the
Years later, I was there when her night at the Yule Ball was ruined by that… that… Weasel. (Sometimes the most obvious names are the best) My little girl was all grown-up in her periwinkle dress; she was having the time of her life until he stepped in. After she yelled at him, she sat down on the steps, sobbing. Deep in the shadows, the blond head stared, warring with himself over whether or not to talk to her. He decided against it, heading back into the party, leaving her to her tears.
Yes, that boy bullied my Hermione, but curiosity got the best of me and I followed him after a particularly harsh incident. He sent his lackeys away and ended up in a dark corridor, alone. I watched as he paced, pulling on the strands of his hair. He began muttering to himself.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid. You're an idiot, Draco. You're a pureblood. You're not meant to feel sorry for your actions to the mudblood. What would your father say?" He stopped and deepened his voice, "Draco, you're a Malfoy. Don't be thinking of those beneath us. The Wizarding World should be purging itself of them, not accepting them," he switched back to his regular voice. "Yes, Father. I understand, Father. But then there's her. The girl that is more worthy of magic than I'll ever be. The girl with her bushy hair and big, brown eyes," he groaned, closing his eyes and banged the back of his head gently against the wall. After a few long minutes, he turned quickly and punched it. The rough rocks bit his flesh, scarring the porcelain skin, blood starting to form on the paleness. He winced.
"Well, that was stupider," he rubbed anxiously at the peeled skin, casting a quick 'Scourify' to clean, and a healing spell to knit his skin back together. He unknowingly faced me and I saw the war in his stormy eyes. His mind was torn – thoughts that contradicted everything he was taught. I left at the point when he sank to the ground, his grey eyes growing glassy. He needed time alone. There was something different about him compared to Ron. He seemed to feel remorse for his actions. Ron was just oblivious to the outrage he caused in Hermione.
As the war outside raged, the teenagers' feelings raged on inside the castle. I watched Hermione battle with feelings for Ron. Some part of me felt that she was only having "feelings" for him because everyone expected her to. There were times that I caught her looking at him eating with a disgusted look on her face. Her eyes clearly question her own feelings.
I watched Draco battle with feelings for the bookworm. His facade seemed to break at points when he was meant to be belittling her. As each point of his father's teachings was proved wrong, I watched him struggle to maintain the persona that his father wanted. I watched his entire system fight against his surroundings, pushing away the beliefs that had been instilled on him since birth.
I watched Ron prance about with that blonde bimbo, crushing my Hermione's heart. I was there when that relationship ended. I was there when Hermione made the worst mistake of her life. It was then that I realised that this is what I had done all those years ago. My 'finger snap' for Hermione to really appreciate her happy ending was starting here. It wasn't when she was a child being bullied. That was just life. This was my fault.