Time of Your Life Time of Your Life

Chapter One: A Normal Day

By Mina

A/N: Special thanks to Taranda Borgin (ff.net handle: Borgin), my beta reader.

**UPDATE NOTE: All those that have been getting Author Alerts from me... Ignore them for a while. I've been revising my fics, and it's quite a mess. Sorry for any inconveniences.**

"No one asked you your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood."

--Draco Malfoy, Chamber of Secrets

"Another turning point,

A fork stuck in the road

Time grabs you by the wrist

Directs you where to go

So make the best of this game

That we call life.

It's not a question,

But an answer learned in time."

--Time of Your Life, Greenday

-------------------*]

It was a normal day. Your average, run-of-the-mill morning. Mr. and Mrs. Granger stopped by the bank to take out some cash, as they were running a bit short. Mrs. Granger was having one of her rare shopping sprees, and Mr. Granger wanted to stop by the medical supply shop, and buy some more toothpaste as he was running low.

Mrs. Granger proudly donned her brand new light green jacket, and clutched her purse nervously. She was not a superstitious person, and never believed in premonitions and such. Today isn't different from any other day, she said to herself as she smiled at her husband reassuringly.

Mr. Granger was a tall, gangly man with light brown hair and brown eyes. He had a nondescript look about him, but his friends and family knew that he was a kind and gentle man, with a great sense of humor. He loved to read, and seemed to have passed down that quality to his daughter, Hermione.

"Dear, should we stop by the grocery store and buy more milk? I think we ran out last night," commented Mrs. Granger. Her husband nodded absentmindedly. He was thinking about toothpaste - which flavour would his customers prefer: mint or peppermint?

The couple moved towards the bank checkout window. Mr. Granger took off his hat, put it on the counter and -

"Everybody FREEZE!" yelled someone from behind. Mrs. Granger turned around and screamed.

There was a group of men - masked and clothed in black. They were pointing guns - no, not guns. What were they called? She remembered her daughter, Hermione, had one - they were wands.

A tall man, apparently the leader, strolled up to the register. The frightened clerk immediately started throwing cash into a large burlap sack. The man shook his head.

"I don't want your money, you Muggle scum," he drawled. His mask covered his face, but silvery strands of hair fell about his ears. Mr. Granger thought he remembered that hair...

"Mr. Malfoy!" he whispered. The man whipped around, pointing the wand at Mr. Granger's neck. He hissed.

"Who the hell are you?" Malfoy asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Thomas Granger. Hermione Granger's father. I believe our children attend the same school."

"Oh, is that so?" the masked man scowled. "SO pleased to meet you, Thomas."

"We've met," said Mr. Granger bravely. He knew this man; if he could just keep him talking, soon the police would arrive and arrest this madman. He glanced at the clerk helplessly, but the man was frozen in place.

"Have we? Oh, of course, about four years ago, I believe. Diagon Alley. Sorry not to have remembered you," Malfoy laughed, bowing his head in mock politeness. He looked back at his crew of men. "Well, what are you bunch waiting for? We came here for a reason..."

"You're not going to rob these people," stammered Mrs. Granger. She remembered the man now. How could she have ever forgotten those eyes?

"Rob? I needn't ROB you, you Muggle scum. I have more money that you have ever seen in your miserable life."

"Then why?" glared Mr. Granger. "I'm warning you, once the police come, you'll be sorry you ever came in here. You have one last chance to leave."

Malfoy chuckled. His laugh grew until it was almost hysterical. The Grangers looked at each other in confusion. "You hear this, Crabbe? HE'S threatening ME! Oh, this is rich..."

One of the men in the bunch laughed stupidly. "Yeh, Mas'r Malfoy, that's rich. Real rich." He laughed again.

"Shut up, Crabbe," snapped Malfoy. He turned back to Mr. Granger. "You don't deserve to live, Muggle."

"Neither do you," uttered Thomas. Those were his last words. He saw green light, then fell into oblivion.

"Avada Kedavra!"

-------------------*]

Daily Prophet, July 24th

MUGGLE MASSACRE AND DEATH EATER ATTACK!

By Kendra Chant

London, England - Yesterday, at approximately 3 PM, a group of black robed and masked wizards entered the Bank of London. Several Muggles were in the bank at the time, none of whom survived. Hit Wizards have found the magical residue of a mass "Avada Kedavra" curse. The Dark Mark was floating above the building; however, it disappeared after sunset. The death count so far stands at fifty-four Muggles and one wizard. The culprits have not been found, but Ministry spokesperson Michael Windler tells us that they are on the trail.

"We have found several clues that are helping us decipher the identity of these villains. Rest assured, justice will be served," says Windler, 41, Head of Muggle Protection Department. When questioned for more details, Windler said that he was not permitted to disclose any more information.

The Ministry has sent news to the families of the deceased Muggles, wiping their memories, and telling them that there was a bomb placed in the building. The children of the deceased Muggles will be sent to Ministry sponsored orphanages, and those with magical abilities will be sponsored by some of the wealthier Ministry families.

This has been the fifth attack on Muggles this year.

-------------------*]

"Bacon, dear?" asked Mrs. Weasley kindly. Hermione nodded and pushed her plate forward. The red-headed woman piled more food onto her plate.

"Mrs. Weasley, what could be taking them so long?" Hermione burst out. She was ever so worried about her parents; they were supposed to pick her up four hours ago. She had called home about ten times, but nobody picked up. She had left about five messages on the answering machine, but no one had called back yet.

Mrs. Weasley looked down at the sixteen-year-old in concern. "Would you like to call them again?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, no. They're just late, that's all..." she mumbled while stuffing some more bacon in her mouth. She knew that she was wrong, that she was just lying to herself. Her sense of foreboding wouldn't go away.

"Hermione, want to go play some Quidditch? It'll help get your mind off of... things, and stuff..."

She looked up and saw Ron and Harry, leaning on the kitchen counter, their brooms in place. Hermione closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.

"No, thanks. I'm fine," she muttered.

"Are you sure?" Ron asked tentatively.

"YES! I'M SURE! Why won't you JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!" she yelled. She stood up, pushed her plate of bacon away, and ran upstairs. I won't cry, I won't cry, she said to herself repeatedly. She reached Ginny's room, pushed the door open, and collapsed on the bed.

Downstairs, Ron and Harry exchanged confused looks.

"Must be that time of the month," whispered Ron. Mrs. Weasley looked at him in disgust.

"OUT, you two! Go! Hermione doesn't need to deal with you two NOW," Mrs. Weasley said sharply. She was about to say more, but her lecture was interrupted by a sharp knock on the window. Harry sighed in relief. He'd spent enough time with the Weasleys to know that once Ron's mother started on a lecture, she wouldn't stop for hours.

An official looking owl flew into the room and perched on the windowsill. It dropped a small black envelope on the table and flew off. Both Ron and Mrs. Weasley stared at the envelope in horror.

"Oh, my..." Mrs. Weasley whispered as she moved towards the table. She lifted the envelope cautiously, as though it was a poisonous snake.

"It's not Charlie or Bill, right?" gulped Ron. Harry looked on in confusion.

"Charlie and Bill? What?" he asked. Once again, he felt as though he knew nothing about the wizarding world.

"Harry - it's a death notice..." whispered Ron. They both looked at Mrs. Weasley as she opened the envelope and read the first line. Her eyes filled with tears.

"Who... Who is it?" Ron looked down at his worn shoes. Harry felt a tingly feeling pass through him. This was bad, he thought. This was really bad.

"It's for Hermione."

-------------------*]

Dear Ms. Hermione Granger,

It is with our deepest regrets that we must inform you of the death of your parents, Thomas and Anna Granger. They were killed by a group of Death Eaters on July 23rd, at approximately 3 PM. We are sure that your father and mother put up quite a fight, and they died for a good cause.

As you know, Hogwarts term starts on September 1st. Headmaster Dumbledore wrote to us saying that you can refrain from attending classes until you feel comfortable in the company of other students. Please stay with the Weasleys until the end of summer vacation.

Your parents' will shall be read tomorrow, July 25th, at 5 PM, in our London Headquarters. The Weasleys can provide you with transportation to the meeting and back.

Sincerely,

D. Hoskens

Delia Hoskens, Muggle Protection Department

-------------------*]

Hermione clutched her cup of tea. Her hands were white, and she thought that the mug would soon break and splash the contents all over the stately-looking wizard in front of her. I don't care if it does, she thought angrily. Let it. Let it. And I hope it hurts him, too.

Luckily for both Hermione and the man in front of her, Mrs. Weasley came up behind her and gently unclasped her fingers. Hermione sighed and let go. She sat down on the couch and glared at the wizard.

"Ms. Granger?" he asked uncertainly.

"Yeah, that's me," she said insolently. "What do you want from me?"

The wizard looked as if he was taken aback. "Ms. Hermione Juliet Granger? Entering her sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

"Yes, I told you already. It's me."

"Oh, please pardon me. I wasn't expecting... er..." he stuttered and sat down across from her. Mrs. Weasley gave the wizard a pitying look, as though saying, I'm glad I don't have to go this for a living.

"So what is it? What are you going to tell me now?" Hermione sighed.

"Well, I'm very, very sorry for your parents'..."

"Save it. I've already heard everything. I don't need your sympathy, mister. You can't do anything to help, so just skip the formalities. Tell me what it is you have to tell me, and I'll be on my way." Hermione was surprised at her outburst. She looked down and stared at the tea intently as little ripples broke out on the surface.

"Oh... Well..." the wizard cleared his throat. "My name is Allan Merrill, and I was your parents' magic advisor. As you already know, magic advisors are there to help out Muggles with wizard children or siblings. I was also managing your parent's financial affairs. A few days before their... death... they wrote out a will. There's also some... papers. I have been instructed to give them to you on your seventeenth birthday. They will be placed in the care of your new legal guardian..."

Hermione looked up sharply. "Guardian? You mean my Muggle relatives?"

Allan laughed nervously. "Well... No. You see, Ms. Granger, it is Ministry policy that if a Muggle-born witch or wizard (already attending Hogwarts) is orphaned, a Ministry family looks after them... This is only in the case that the parents are... er... killed by something magical, and therefore Ministry related."

"WHAT?" Hermione screamed. She stood up, stuttering.

"Calm down, Ms. Granger, please..." Merrill wrung his arms. "It's perfectly common, abiding by all the laws..."

"So let me get this straight... My parents were killed because of a Ministry screw-up, and I get stuck living with total strangers! I never get to see my family again!" Hermione stood up and got ready to walk out.

Mrs. Weasley was sitting on her corner of the couch quietly during this whole fiasco, but when Hermione tried to leave, she stood up and pulled her back down.

"Now, Hermione, calm down, love..."

"NO! How can I calm down when this... and... I mean, why? And... this is all... so..." Hermione buried herself in Mrs. Weasley's shoulder. Muffled sobs were heard. Hermione looked up, her face tear stained and red. She started crying again, loud, racking sobs. She felt a pain in her chest as though someone lodged a brick in there, and now her whole body was falling apart.

"There, there, honey... Just cry it out, cry it out..." whispered Mrs. Weasley soothingly. She rocked Hermione on her lap, just like she did with Ginny whenever her daughter had nightmares.

Allan looked uncomfortable. Mrs. Weasley gave him a stern look, and turned to Hermione.

Big brown eyes looked back up at her, watery and red. The nerve-racking sobs stopped. Hermione hiccupped.

"I - I'm fine now," she whispered. Mr. Merrill nodded.

"The - the family with which you'll be living - they also has a student in Hogwarts," Allan said importantly, cleaning off his glasses.

Mrs. Weasley pulled a lock of her hair back. "Mr. Merrill, can Hermione stay with us? She's always welcome in our home. She and my Ron are best friends."

Allan looked at Mrs. Wealey sorrowfully. "I'm sorry, but the Minister of Magic said that, as good a family as yours is, you wouldn't be able to support an extra child."

Mrs. Weasley flushed bright red. "Now, see here! We get along just fine! We have enough for what we need, and we're happier than-"

"Mrs. Weasley, this isn't my decision to make. I'm sure that Hermione would be very content living with you, and you can take this up with them later. However, I have been instructed to tell Ms. Granger here that she should pack her bags and meet her new guardian-"

"But they said I could stay with the Weasleys! The-the-letter...." Hermione was lost for words.

"Your new family insists. They want to get to know you before you leave for Hogwarts. You'll have about a month there..."

"Who? Who are they?" Hermione bit her lip. Perhaps she could stay with Lavender Brown, or Parvati and Padma Patil...

"Mr. Lucius Malfoy has been kind enough to agree to take you in."