Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, except for those I made up.
If you can't tell which ones I made up and which ones were created by the
great J.K. Rowling, well, then, I pity you. Not really, but you should
know which ones are real and which I thought up.
Hermione sat by the river, breathing hard. She closed her eyes and rocked to and fro. She was angry, upset, sad. Sometimes it felt like Hermione didn't exist-she was just an empty shell, wearing a Hermione mask. She felt so alone at Hogwarts sometimes, but she couldn't go back. Her old life was gone now, and she could never turn around again. Especially not after her silent vow. (Warning! Warning! Flashback!)
Hermione was 8 years old, happy and carefree. There was a forest near her house, and she would go play there. One day, she was playing and saw a boy racing past her. She was puzzled, wondering why he didn't want to play-tag or something. It was only when she looked back on the day years ago that she remembered the fear, the panic, in the boy's eyes.
Suddenly, she saw a man coming. He was tall, and she never saw his face. When he came, it was like an icy shadow passed over her, over everything. He walked to her, and Hermione felt cold.
"Move," he said. He was almost silent, but she knew somehow to listen. She slowly backed away, no idea what was going on. The man made rope appear from a stick he was holding-she found out later it was a wand- and dragged the boy to him. The rope vanished. The boy screamed and tried to run, but the man yelled something, and the boy fell to the ground. Then the man was gone, and Hermione knew the boy was dead. She was screaming, running, her heart pounding like crazy. She never told anyone what happened, but made a silent vow to make the boy's death not in vain. She would find out who he was, and who killed him. Maybe, she could save one more person.
It had been 9 years, and Hermione seemed no closer to finding out anything. She did not know a single thing about the boy, nor about the man who killed him. She was still determined to try and find out what happened, but she did not see how she could find out. She couldn't remember anything specific, what anyone looked like, what clothes they were wearing, she couldn't even say the color of the boy's hair. She knew that her task was impossible, but she felt that she had to keep trying.
When Hermione was 11, she found out that she was a witch. She was extremely happy, because she had realized that the stick was truly a wand. For some reason, she thought that if she knew magic, she could find out who the people were. Her parents were happy, of course, but they did not understand why she seemed ecstatic.
Hermione was nervous and very excited in the weeks before she went to Hogwarts. She studied her books over and over, finally memorizing the text. She practiced spell after spell, learning everything she possibly could. She read every book she could find on magic, determined to find out who the strange people were that day. Hermione was not a know-it-all by nature, nor was she extraordinarily intelligent. Sure, she had gotten good grades, but she had never tried in school the way she tried at magic. She was disappointed when September 1 rolled around and she still had not found what she seeked.
Hermione was unhappy at Hogwarts. For some reason, she believed that people would like her if she showed that even though she was a muggle, she still knew magic just as well as everyone else. She showed off to people, not realizing she was coming off as a know-it-all. She made few friends, and people generally avoided her.
As the years passed, Hermione became almost frantic in her search. She would pretend to be working on homework, homework that had really been completed hours ago, while searching for who the boy was. She tried just about everything, but found nothing that could help her in her search. She almost gave up, but her childish vow kept her searching through long hours and tired eyes.
Hermione sat by the river, breathing hard. She closed her eyes and rocked to and fro. She was angry, upset, sad. Sometimes it felt like Hermione didn't exist-she was just an empty shell, wearing a Hermione mask. She felt so alone at Hogwarts sometimes, but she couldn't go back. Her old life was gone now, and she could never turn around again. Especially not after her silent vow. (Warning! Warning! Flashback!)
Hermione was 8 years old, happy and carefree. There was a forest near her house, and she would go play there. One day, she was playing and saw a boy racing past her. She was puzzled, wondering why he didn't want to play-tag or something. It was only when she looked back on the day years ago that she remembered the fear, the panic, in the boy's eyes.
Suddenly, she saw a man coming. He was tall, and she never saw his face. When he came, it was like an icy shadow passed over her, over everything. He walked to her, and Hermione felt cold.
"Move," he said. He was almost silent, but she knew somehow to listen. She slowly backed away, no idea what was going on. The man made rope appear from a stick he was holding-she found out later it was a wand- and dragged the boy to him. The rope vanished. The boy screamed and tried to run, but the man yelled something, and the boy fell to the ground. Then the man was gone, and Hermione knew the boy was dead. She was screaming, running, her heart pounding like crazy. She never told anyone what happened, but made a silent vow to make the boy's death not in vain. She would find out who he was, and who killed him. Maybe, she could save one more person.
It had been 9 years, and Hermione seemed no closer to finding out anything. She did not know a single thing about the boy, nor about the man who killed him. She was still determined to try and find out what happened, but she did not see how she could find out. She couldn't remember anything specific, what anyone looked like, what clothes they were wearing, she couldn't even say the color of the boy's hair. She knew that her task was impossible, but she felt that she had to keep trying.
When Hermione was 11, she found out that she was a witch. She was extremely happy, because she had realized that the stick was truly a wand. For some reason, she thought that if she knew magic, she could find out who the people were. Her parents were happy, of course, but they did not understand why she seemed ecstatic.
Hermione was nervous and very excited in the weeks before she went to Hogwarts. She studied her books over and over, finally memorizing the text. She practiced spell after spell, learning everything she possibly could. She read every book she could find on magic, determined to find out who the strange people were that day. Hermione was not a know-it-all by nature, nor was she extraordinarily intelligent. Sure, she had gotten good grades, but she had never tried in school the way she tried at magic. She was disappointed when September 1 rolled around and she still had not found what she seeked.
Hermione was unhappy at Hogwarts. For some reason, she believed that people would like her if she showed that even though she was a muggle, she still knew magic just as well as everyone else. She showed off to people, not realizing she was coming off as a know-it-all. She made few friends, and people generally avoided her.
As the years passed, Hermione became almost frantic in her search. She would pretend to be working on homework, homework that had really been completed hours ago, while searching for who the boy was. She tried just about everything, but found nothing that could help her in her search. She almost gave up, but her childish vow kept her searching through long hours and tired eyes.