Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other characters for that matter.


It was during Charms class when she discovered her inate ability to manipulate people. She noticed that Ron was saying the charm wrong, he had been expressing the wrong part of "Wingardium Leviosa". She pictured herself as a mighty Queen who looked down at the people around her. She had learned this acting trick from a girl she had met in the muggle elementary school to get into character. From this pedistal in her mind, she turned to Ron and said, "You're saying it wrong. It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the 'gar' nice and long."

She could have easily done the charm without even saying the incantation aloud, but she was trying to blend in not draw too much attention to herself. The feather fluttered off the desktop and floated high above everyone's heads.

"Oh, well done! Everyone see here, Miss Granger's done it!" cried the funny stout of a man, Professor Flitwick. It was easy to show off just enough to prove she is better at magic than any of them, but without causing any questions to arise. Everyone seemed impressed by the show of such simple magic. She could not imagine what they would do if they saw her last night in the forbidden forest.

Hermione had received her first letter from her father. Her adoptive muggle parents had been writing her nearly everyday, asking about every detail of her life within the wizarding world, but this was the first from her biological father. It only said:

Find me among the trees.

I will be waiting.

Into the forest she went, just after nightfall. She used an old tracking spell that used to be used for hunting purposed. It led her far into the forest and there, in a secret place where moonlight shone through the canopy of the trees and a babbling brook interupted the silence of the forest, he waited.

He had always come in different forms. Sometimes he shared the flesh of a shopkeeper from Knockturn Alley, sometimes he used the body of a bartender from a wizards pub, but this time, he came to her on the back of the head of a Professor. She had known he was there since the very first day, but it was dangerous to speak with him where anyone could overhear. She didn't need to talk to him, she knew it was him from the smell, from how the turban sat on Professor Quirrell's head. The moonlight poured over the stretched lines in the skin that covered the back of the Professor's head. A face that had brought terror to many, nearly as terrible as the face of death himself.

Her father's mouth turned upwards into a slow smile. "You made it. I wasn't sure if you could get out of the castle. Although, you are my daughter. This is for you." A deer stepped into the moonlight of the clearing. It was tall and graceful, but struggled to pull against the magical bondages that held it captive. Hermione moved slowly closer to the deer and lifted a hand to run it over the smooth pelt. She could feel the life within the deer stir under her touch. It was as if the deer knew what was to come. I must prove I am capable to serve him. In a gust of wind created by the quickness of her movements, Hermione backed up so there was a significant distance between the deer and herself. She drew to the eye level of the deer and said a quick prayer for the unfortunate creature, before she raised her wand. "Avada Kedavra!"

She had uttered the incantation only when it was pointed to an animal, but there was the familiar pull that tried to have her turn and yell out the curse to her father. She would have, but the time was not right. He would simply return in one way or another. She would have to wait and see if the prophecy was correct or not. Harry Potter would pave the road and she would travel across it after it was completed to bring death upon the terribly evil wizard.

The Charms class had come to an end and Hermione picked up her books to follow the flow of witches and wizards leaving the classroom. She walked just behind Harry and Ron. She remembered that she had acted superior to them and she would need to seem nice to give her the right bipolarity between being egotistical and friendly. They wouldn't ask questions if they thought she had issues. She would have to get them to sit with her at the Gryffindor table if she could.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her," said Ron spitefully to Harry, "she's a nightmare, honestly." There was a slight twinge of pain, but instead of pushing it away, Hermione took advantage of the situation. Screwing her face into one of hurt, she sped up her pace and passed Ron and Harry. They would notice that she had heard them and feel bad. They would try to make up for it and that is when she would draw them into her psychological trap.

A slow smile drew over her face. Sometimes, she figured she was more clever than even her father.