This Is Not How It's Supposed To Be
A fanfiction by Cybell
All characters belong to JK Rowling.
The streets of London were rather gloomy on this particular Monday morning. Sure, no one liked Mondays all that much, but really, this was getting ridiculous. Apparently, no one liked any one day of the week at all anymore. Day after day, week after week everything stayed the same. Each morning, the same eerie fog enveloped the city, swallowing it whole, while the few Londoners who dare go out in such thick a fog venture off to work. Those scarce few were commonly found in places where they were certainly not supposed to be, and usually had quite a nifty hex placed on them as well. The Muggle news reports advised against going out in this ghastly overcast weather, fearful that someone might end up with something significantly less reversible than a simple hex. And two days ago, it happened. A young man left early for work one morning and a few hours later -- dead. Dead as a doornail. Dead as dead could be. Another Muggle victimized by Lord Voldemort. It was Avada Kedavra, without question, that killed the poor man. That certain spell was on the 'top-ten most popular' list as of late. And of course, everyone who surrounded the house the man was found in was taken care of, and the man's family was told some made up story. They now thought that he died in a tragic hit-and-run, which is actually pretty believable since there were people stupid enough to be driving in this weather. Like her Muggle father for example, who had taken her hostage about an hour before she was supposed to leave. This happened every year before term. He innocently told her that he wanted to 'talk' for a bit before she left, which basically meant that he was going to give her the 'I Want To Know You're Safe' speech. Her eyes flickered to the speedometer, feeling that he was going just a little bit too fast for comfort.
"Will you slow down, please? I'd rather not have have my face imprinted on the dashboard if you crash into anything, if you don't mind," She said, the usual hint of attitude in her voice.
"Oh, be quiet, Hermione. You have a pretty face, it would, no doubt, make the dashboard actually look better," Replied her father, his thin lips tugging into a small smirk as his daughter huffed and and adjusted the seatbelt upon her shoulder.
"Now," He started, flicking on the turn signal. "Before we get to the station, I want talk to you about something..."
Hermione answered him almost in full before he even asked her the question. Having been through this conversation a million times for the past five years, she knew what he was going to ask her, and every year she replied with the same answer.
"Dad, Hogwarts is safe. Dumbledore is there, and as long as Dumbledore is there --"
"Then everyone is safe, I know, I know," He interrupted mockingly, turning the car to the right. "But you cannot possibly tell me you were safe for the last five years, Hermione. First, that whole thing with that stone, then you went and got yourself petrified by a snake that could have eaten you whole, and then you go an have yourself going into the past and --"
"Alright, alright! I get it. Hogwarts isn't perfect but it's the safest place I could be right now, Dad. Look, I promise I'll write everyday just to let you know your only daughter is alive." Hermione crossed her arms stubbornly as her father attempted to park. It took him a good seven minutes to finally straighten the car out, which gave the bushy-haired girl in the passenger seat time to think. He looked like was in deep thought to Hermione, and she really couldn't blame him for worrying. She sighed deeply, wondering what it must feel like sending your only child into a world you barely know anything about. Biting her bottom lip, she turned her head to look out of the window at her strange surroundings, a small group of dementors floating not too far away. Hermione had always wanted her parents to know and step into her world, but now it seemed as though her world was coming to them instead.