Stricken

Short 'n Simple

Summary: An amazing power had awakened in her body that night; the night her parents were murdered. The power shot the every muscle and limp, tightening and overworking. Will she be able to capture her powers true essence? AU

:Prolouge:

Disclaimer: I don't Harry Potter, or any of the supporting characters, just the plotline… Which is probably clichéd.

A small smiled played on her lips, her trainers hit the ground in a light fashion, her soft, curly hair bounced around her shoulders and she sighed.

This would be the first time in ages she had been home and she couldn't wait to sit and tell her mother and father of the humorous and drama-filled year she had just put to an end over a cup or tea or cocoa.

A clap of thunder startled her, and small rain drops showered her face, rolling down her cheeks, as if tears. She hurriedly wiped them away and untied the jumper around her waits and pulling it over her head. The sunset was the thing casting a glow in the world round her, soon night would be here.

As she approached her doorstep, she let her hand linger on the door knob, listening. Nothing. No sound gave way to movement within. No soft music, no gun movies. Not even the rustling of that days paper. Until the moment she shrugged her shoulders and dismissed a feeling of dread. A series of pops could be heard from inside, and she jumped to conclusions.

Her parents being muggles could never apparate.

She quickly tore at the door, trying to open it, and, out of fear, she thought not o fusing her wand, but shoved her hands into her jean pockets and fished her keys out, and thrusted they key in to the locked and twisted hard, opening the door, she let it slam against the wall. She was worried.

As she stood, staring at the scene before her, her knees buckled and she fell to the ground beneath her.

Why would wizards commit to using force, and causing such bloody deaths? Tears rolled freely down her cheeks, did they not have wands? Why, why was it her own family. Her knees slipped under her body weight and she feel to the ground, and crawled over to her mother, stroking her hair, asking her to wake up in a soft whisper. She turned to her father, and held his slowly stiffing hand, whispering "Papa..." over and over again.

Their blood soaked through the knees of her worn jeans and her body shook as the crimson liquid tickled her knees, and she back away, sobbing. One of her blood-slicked knees slipped from underneath her and she toppled over, her body still shaking violently with every tear that fell from her warm chocolate eyes.

She wanted to call for help, she needed to, but she didn't.

Suddenly she felt a warm sensation rise within her body, and power spread through her body, tugging at her muscles and limbs, and clenched her fists, trying to rid the tightening feeling, and wiped away her remaining tears, her eyes red.

Suddenly, the young witch fell to the ground without warning, passed out. Calling one name desperately in her mind as she lost consciousness.

Harry shot up from his position in Ron's room, dropping the book on Quidditch he was reading, her heart beating fast, without him knowing the reason. A name called to him, over and over. He slowly recognized the desperate voice.

"Hermione!"