Disclaimer: All belong to J.K. Rowling.

A/N: First fic. Non-native speaker.

I would really appreciate feedback, I know the chapter is short, but I have great plans for this story.

Chapter 1: I found you

What were they? And there were so many of them .. killing people, killing! Where were her parents?

Then suddenly a green ray of light flashed before her eyes and she heard a thump beside her, without thinking she jumped, spinning around only to see him fall to his knees and to the ground. What was his name? Well, he helped in the kitchens at the village pub. It seemed as if he was looking at her, lying there, but he wasn't staring, he wasn't staring at anything, just looking lifeless, dead.

She screamed, drawing the attention of the cloaked figure the light seemed to come from. He stood there, beneath the doorway of the Gregory residence, a stick in his hand and a body at his feet. She couldn't see its face from where she was standing but she recognized his bowler hat.

‚Dad..' and then there was silence in her mind.

She opened her eyes only to see that there was a dent in the door and the figure was gone.

She ran to her father, only to duck behind a wagon halfway when she heard an explosion.

Before moving on she now made sure no one was watching, the figures didn't seem to be so many, but to cause this type of chaos, with.. it must be magic! It had to be. ‚Oh, how exciting!' and then she was at her father's feet, just staring at his lifeless body.

How did this happen? Why did it have to be this way, why did these people kill without a cause, what were these people who could do magic like she could, well, not the same kind but magic nonetheless.

It confused her, but she felt numb, too many puzzles, contradictions and her father seemed to be dead, she buried her face in his chest.

‚No heartbeat..'

After a while she looked up, noticing the huge dent in the doorway. She sniffled, (apparently she'd been crying), stood up at walked slowly towards the door, ignoring the screams in the background.

When she got inside she stumbled and fell forward onto something squishy and wet, but hit her head, hard. Moaning and stroking her head, she felt around, adjusting her eyes to the darkness..'Oh, god..' and she vomited onto the now-crushed headless body of the cloaked figure. A rock was where his head had been, and his head seemed to have splattered around the room, painting the wooden wall crimson.

Suddenly she couldn't see, something was blocking the doorway, a figure, a cloaked figure. Hermione panicked, stumbling back, trying to get behind the boulder, slipping on her own vomit and the headless figures' blood, failing to be anything but indiscrete.

The cloaked figure stepped forward, but she heard no footsteps, there was no noise in the room, nothing outside, the screams and chaos had faded, or stopped, she couldn't tell. Then she saw light erupting from the stick the figure held. ‚I can do that...' and then she saw that her hand was resting on something grey and sticky, brain tissue, and she threw up again.

The figure sneered, disgusted. Silence spells did nothing about smells and by Merlin, it wasn't pleasant. He looked at the body, and then at the girl. Who was she? He had seen her cast a spell, throwing a rock at whatshisname's face, smashing it to pieces it seemed. He stepped closer, the girl shivered, holding her knees against her face, covered in brown goo, blood on her frizzy hair and forehead. She had made no attempt to hide from him after he cast the light spell on his wand.

‚What are you?' he thought. And then he had his answer, she was radiating magical energy, uncontrolled, powerful. ‚This can't be.' A muggle-born had escaped The Dark Lord? And such a powerful one? All thought The Dark Lord had been killing newborn magic muggle infants as a prevention tactic for the past fourteen years or so, after he had killed the last muggleborn witch whilst trying to kill her halfblood child. ‚Lily', he shuddered. Can't think like that, it'll get me killed, it'll get her killed. The girl..

She still sat there, watching him with her brown eyes. He didn't see fear, she looked like a curious kitten wondering where you'd point the light next for her to follow. He took down his hood and she just kept looking at him.

He pointed outside, she followed his finger, and then he pointed at the figure below him, she stared and nodded slowly. Then he smiled and shuddered, or was it a chuckle? She couldn't tell, couldn't hear anything.

She pointed at his wand, and he looked at it with a stern expression and nodded. Then she stood up, he took a step back, watching her. She didn't know what to do next, it seemed. Then suddenly he was on his knees, he had dropped his wand and was clutching his arm, as if he was in pain.

She raced to help him but he had recomposed himself and had his wand before she could reach him. He flinched at her sudden touch and she pulled back, then he put his hand to her shoulder as if to reassure her.

He was looking at her. She was so confused, but kept still. She studied his face, he looked weary and tired. Then he slowly took his hand from her shoulder and reached inside of his cloak and pulled out a book, and a pen, then scribbled something on a blank piece of paper and handed it to her.

‚Write down your name, full name, no questions. Then hide.'

He contemplated about whether she could read or not, but she beckoned for his pen and started scribbling down on the paper, then she looked at him, he couldn't interpret the emotions that flashed on her face, but there were plenty. Then she ran, into the house, away from sight.

He dissolved the spells and looked at the paper just before shoving it into his pocket;

‚You can do magic! -Hermione Granger.'