The orphanage was a stone building with cold floors and large windows. Grilled windows. The whole aura often made Hermione wonder if it had once been a prison.

'Shivani, you've missed the d in knowledge. And Drew, 6 times 9 is 54, not 56.' Said Hermione, seated on one of the old wooden benches that were strewn in the main hall. Shivani pouted. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

'Do it again.' she said as Drew took the worksheet from her hand. Somedays she liked teaching the little kids. Somedays she despised it. However, it had been two years since she'd actively done this, and today was fine.

Mrs. Carter usually was there to help the kids around, especially the really young ones who didn't go to school. But Hermione didn't mind it.

'Hey Hermione,' came a voice. 'How was your year?'

Luke had gotten taller, curly hair longer and yet his shirt was new. New. It wasn't even Christmas. And he was asking her how her year had been. Well, she'd give him a chance.

'Okay.' The almost died went unsaid.

'How was Year Ten?'

'Same old. You remember Allyssa?'

'Vauguely.' Back when Hermione hadn't known her birthday, she was regarded two years younger than Luke. In reality, she was only a year and five months. Alyssa had been their nemesis back then. She got the same kind of contempt Hermione reserved for Parkinson.

Luke chuckled. 'Yeah well, she failed. And tried to go on a long drive with her boyfriend in her parents car-'

'She crashed it?'

He nodded. 'She didn't come to school for a week. Not because of injuries, don't be so hopeful, but because her parents gave her a big dressing down.'

'She deserved it. Anyways, where were you last night?'

The reply was curt. 'At a friend's.'

'And what else?'

'What do you mean, what else?' he fibbed. The expression on Hermione's face was murderous.

'You know me too well for my own comfort,' he grumbled.

'You're just bad at bluffing.'

He avoided her gaze. 'I've been trying to find a job.'

'What the hell for?'

'Money, what else? You think whatever education I'm getting now might help me get a job?'

And there it was, her future without magic laid out in Luke's bleak predictions. The state funded school, struggle to get into a decent college, the even bigger race to get a job, surely they were at a disadvantage. It all boiled down to money, didn't it? Knowing your roots, your blood- that's what it helped for- money, property.

'I'm not going to dropout.' He said. 'I'm just trying to get enough money that when I leave here, I'll have some stability.'

He looked her in the eye. 'What else can I do?'

Hermione sighed. The future wasn't so far away, was it? It had never been a given that the orphanage would have her till she was eighteen. Most of the elder kids left at sixteen or seventeen, a few at fifteen if they had good friends or scholarships for hostels. But her, she had dark wizards to escape before she could think about something like living. At least she didn't have to be like Luke. Her Hogwarts schooling would be enough to get her a living in the Wizarding World. That is, if she managed to live that long enough.

What else could he do, for real?

'I don't know, I mean I'm not the person who's best to talk about this, I'm barely thirteen, yeah?'

'Your life's set, girl. You're magical.' He waved a hand dismissively. He still was bitter, she thought.

Hermione gave a strained smile. 'It's never that easy, Luke. Waving a wand doesn't make everything sunshine and roses.'

'But it helps. And ain't that enough?'

She shook her head. 'It's never enough. Especially not for me.'

The First Wizarding War- The reign of the Dark Lord by Raymond Andre lay open. The funny thing about it was that Hermione barely got a line in it- all it said was presumed to be the only known survivor of the Killing Curse; not the reason for Voldemort's subsequent disappearance like the library books mentioned. True, even the library book didn't give her pages, but she did have a few lines. In this book, even her name had been misspelt and though it covered the years from 1965 to 1984, her name was an afterthought. The book also tended to be mostly neutral so far, unlike the library books which glossed over everything, painted her as some tragic victim, and gave mild descriptions of ambushes. This one here, was real, no sugarcoating.

It however gave an easy explanation to the reason why she wasn't as famous or known. No one had survived the Killing curse, she had, and yet this was all because she was a mudblood. It was because most people still attributed the disappearance of Voldemort to the vigilante group known as the Order of Phoenix, led by (no surprises) Albus Dumbledore.

Hermione was not the only child to become an orphan on Halloween 1981.

There had been a huge attack, a planned ambush for Voldemort that night. That he would go hunting muggles was something no one had expected. Besides that, someone in their group had betrayed them to the Death Eaters, and there had been a battle.

It was this huge fight that diminished the fact that Voldemort had not participated in the battle. If he had, no one had seen him. On Hermione, it was already decided that a muggle girl certainly couldn't have defeated the most powerful Dark Lord in Britain's history. Therefore it was attributed that Voldemort must have been defeated by the collateral efforts of the Order.

And the young leaders, Lily and James, were awarded Order of Merlin, first class. Posthumous awards for the Prewett brothers (Ron's uncles), Marlene McKinnon, Dorcas Meadowes and Frank Lonbottom. Apparently Alice had survived but was still in St. Mungo's.

And the poster boy for the 1981 victory- Harry Potter.

It all led to one question- what else had happened on Halloween 1981?

Hermione hated feeling like a charity case, because even though that was exactly what she was, it didn't mean she had to like being one. Summer at the Weasleys was despicable mainly because of this. They might be poor themselves, but they looked upon Hermione even more. Not the children, with the sole exception of Percy but especially Mrs. Weasley. Hermione straight out despised her at times. Yes, she hadn't got new muggle clothes in nearly three years. Yes, she didn't mind. Yes, she was accustomed to leftovers from yesterday being set on the table. Yes, she was fine with Slytherin.

She hated it all, the sympathetic glances from Mr. Weasley as he saw that the clothes she was wearing were two sizes too big and old. When they couldn't understand what she was saying. When they sent worried and undecipherable signals at each other, as if saying, poor girl.

Her first night she'd been gratuitously thanked a thousand times by Mrs. Weasley, given three helpings of everything including dessert. But she hadn't missed those expressions of pity.

Goddamn it all. She hated sympathy. Where was all this, when she'd been struggling without even being able to go to school? When she couldn't get the extra money to buy a gym uniform? When she had never ever even been taken out for fun? Never been able to step into those huge parks, those shops?

Being in the Weasley household, however gave her the added advantage of being able to perform magic over the holidays. Just another of those pureblood perks. It might have bothered her two years ago, but now Hermione knew this world for what it was.

Of course, Mrs. Weasley had prohibited it, along with a million other things, but Fred and George had only one mission in life- break all of them.

And they were very knowledgeable in such matters.

She leaned back against one of the trees in the garden, as Fred and George tried to race each other on cleansweeps. Ginny was beside her. She had been extremely nervous since the day she'd arrived, as if her arrival meant a reprise of Voldemort's memories.

'Does it bother you still?' she asked, as she watched a butterfly fluttering around. Ginny went red. Her hands seemed to shake slightly as her voice dropped into a whisper.

'To be honest, yes. Its like he's still in my head, like he can control me, that all this is just a dream and when I wake up I'll be lying in the Chamber, dying. His laugh, its still stuck in my head. And I hear it, and I wonder if I was so influenced by Tom, that am I really gone, just a shadow left.'

Her voice dropped even lower and the words were hurried as she continued. 'He was just, so , so understanding, so kind. I mean he listened. He listened when no one else did.'

'And he used it.' Hermione said. And there it was, Tom Riddle's greatest power- manipulation.

'He was charming, kind, friendly even and the more you trusted him, the more he grew, the more he thrived. And he knows how to use people.'

Ginny just stared at her. Hermione leaned back, feeling a sort of morbid curiosity as to how it would feel to play with someone like that, if they truly deserved it.

Maybe she liked it.

'Does it bother them, Ron, you being in Slytherin?' she asked, as she sat on his bed. She was of course, sharing with Ginny, in line with Mrs. Weasley's rules, but Ginny was just so subdued nowadays, and Hermione didn't feel like playing counsellor.

The blue eyes looked at her. He gave a low whistle. 'Yes, it does. And to be fair, I didn't expect it either. I told it I would just leave if it sorted me into Slytherin. The hat said that negotiating was a very Slytherin thing indeed. 'Course, I just didn't realise it said the last part aloud. Oh they won't say it straight to my face, but I've disappointed them for sure. I don't really mind now. It gets me new robes, at the very least. And it sets me apart. Not in a good way, but well, I've been robbed of distinction my whole life. At least I get to be the only Weasley in Slytherin. Be a bit hard to live up to that legacy.'

'So enjoy Egypt, Ron. And steer clear of the Twins, they're planning to lock Percy in one of those tombs, might extend it to you as well. Plus, write to me, 'kay?'

Ron grinned, hugging her tightly. 'Take care, don't let that measly soup make you any thinner,'

'Do be quiet Ron, one might actually think you cared about me-'

'Whatever put such an idea in your head? Caring about someone isn't a very Slytherin thing to do.'

She smiled and it quickly disappeared as Mrs. Weasley walked in.

'I do hope you'll be alright dear, never have understood those Muggle contraptions-'

'Hermionekins is going to Diagon Alley today, mum, give her the Floo powder.' Interjected Fred.

'Don't call me that.' She snapped and he winked.

'Oh of course, here you go dear, don't you have the money, Hermione?'

She internally rolled her eyes. They'd gone through this routine thrice yesterday. She would go to Diagon, get her stuff and then take the Underground back to the orphanage. It wasn't exactly hard.

'Yes, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you for having me here, really.'

'No trouble, no trouble. Surely you'll visit next time?'

No thanks. 'Of course, its been a great holiday, bye Ginny, Ron! Have fun in Egypt!'

And she stepped into the emerald flames.

Mildly interested as to who the new Defence Professor was, seeing as the book seemed to be quite standard, maybe a bit advanced, Hermione made her way to the apothecary. Just as she stepped out of the shop, she caught sight of a familiar blonde.

She quickly cast a silencing charm around herself as she followed Malfoy, who was following a man with the same white blonde hair as him. The pair walked further, and Hermione caught the sign on the deceptively dark alley they were entering now.

Knockturn Alley.

Everything seemed to scream at her to get out, with its obscure shops and suspicious people. Wait, were those fingernails on that tray?

But Hermione's curiosity was not that easy to satisfy, so she continued.

Hermione took care to stay in the shadows, trying to remember the incantation for a Disillusionment charm. She stumbled into an abandoned shack, which was more apt to be a cupboard and withdrew the shutters barely enough for a sliver to see from. Malfoy and his dad then entered the largest shop on the street, which was still seedier than the rest.

'-Potter, really, he's brought his family down to dirt by marrying that mudblood. No honour at all, and now meddling with the Malfoys, surely sir,' she heard an oily, almost slick voice, and then the cold voice of Lucius Malfoy interjected.

'I do appreciate your views, Borgin, but Salazar, we all know how infuriating Potter can be. I suppose the Ministry is struggling to maintain Hogwarts' independence without their interference but after the Chamber of Secrets episode, and all those dreadful attacks, Dumbledore is in no way capable. After all, if rumours are to be believed, the mudblood was involved.'

He gave a side glance to Draco who was looking at a shrivelled, old hand.

'Certainly, these mudbloods with their rootless existences must be removed, oh well, the situation only seems to taper in their favour.'

'It is pointless to raise such arguments. The werewolf laws itself were passed with great difficulty. Lily Potter was especially vindictive in the protests. It has gained her a reputation.' Said Lucius Malfoy. 'And there is their Girl Who Lived, a mudblood who's managed to land herself in Slytherin-'

'No one likes her Father. All she does is hang around with that Weasley-'

'Do not interrupt in matters you do not understand Draco, it is most unbecoming. There is nothing we can do about them in such an atmosphere of course, and anyways, I must revert to business.'

'I am not prepared to take anything with insinuations, Mr. Malfoy.'

'Nothing of that sort will leave my manor, especially not for the likes of Potter.'

'Then I do hope you've understood my terms.' The oily voice came.

There was a rustle of parchment, and the clink of Galleons being exchanged.

'Of course, I can only hope you will uphold your end too, Borgin.' He said in a tone which clearly stated what would happen if said bargain was not upholded.

'Come on, Draco.' He said, and Malfoy, eyes still fixed on the hand, followed him reluctantly. The pair left the street, and just as Hermione decided to leave as well, she heard a low voice mumble, and all of a sudden she was bound in ropes.

The familiar oily voice reached her ears, as Borgin looked at her, eyeing the bonds.

'So, so, little mudblood, showing your tactless ways, eavesdropping, girl?'

Hermione's breath caught, her heart beating against her chest loudly, as she struggled to get out, her fingers trying to reach her wand. She was panicking, hands clawing desperately.

'Expelliarmius.' Said Borgin smoothly.

She shut her eyes, trying to concentrate. She had done accidental magic before, surely she could do it now, controlled. Breathe, Hermione, breathe, and snap, that's it, you can get out, don't panic. She wriggled a bit more, and her nails found the rope, but it was too hard to saw through.

Borgin tsked. 'Pathetic display. You will not be freed unless I let you, little girl. Did you think this was a safe place and I would give you cookies? Or take you home safely?'

'Don't call me little girl,' she snapped, trying to quiet the whispers in her head.

'Eavesdropping is not something I take lightly.'

'I didn't even hear half the things you were saying!' she countered half heartedly. And then she felt a cold presence in her head, like a hand reaching for something, an unwanted obsessive thought. Go away.

'Reducto!' she screamed out loud from some reflex, and though the curse didn't work, the ropes tightened. Oh no, Merlin, what do I do?

'Liar.' Spat Borgin. 'You heard everything, you filthy little mudblood. And you seem to be getting out of your league, blasting curses don't come easy. Especially not for mudbloods. Tempted to kill you, but you might be useful later on. And therefore, Obliviate!'

Hermione rubbed her elbow, as she took in her surroundings. Her elbow was bruised, her knee scraped, and why did her wrists have slightly red marks around them? She felt sleepy, disoriented. Belatedly, she realised that some of her books had fallen on the street and she picked them up, trying to remember what exactly had happened after exiting the Apothecary. For some reason, the image of blonde hair kept popping in her mind. Had she fainted or something in the middle of Diagon Alley? No, she'd most likely tripped and fell. It was probably that. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a faded, diminishing sign displaying Knockturn Alley.

Curious, Hermione walked in.

Knockturn Alley was full of shops that seemed to be ready to collapse at a moments notice, as if the government might force them to vacate any day and they mustn't leave any evidence behind, with the exception of one large one called Borgin and Burkes. Were they related to Laura Burke, by any chance?

Possibly, seeing as all the purebloods seemed to be related to one another. Almost a quarter of them were closed and painted in dull shades. But they didn't look abandoned.

Service at night only then. Easier to avoid the general patrols.

An elderly witch with dreadful teeth gave a yellow smile.

'Are you lost, little girl?'

Why did everyone call her that? She was nearly fourteen years old, for God's sake. And besides, it gave way to memories she didn't really want to remember. Hermione shook her head and continued on.

She kept to the sidelines, sinking into the shadows as she passed some suspiciously hag like women, with a tray of hell, toenail clippings. And small, dried things she had never known existed. She didn't recognise any of the people milling around, or the suspicious stains on a man's shirt. It looked like blood.

There were shops with signs in scripts she didn't know, and there were a wide variety of apothecaries that seemed to cater to the much darker side of potion brewing. A set of large opals caught her eye, and she read the sign.

"Cursed. Do not touch. Has killed nineteen muggles to date."

And that practically summed Knockturn Alley up. Borderline illegal. Not completely illegal, but just there on that delicate line. Hermione wondered how much was actually legal in here. The owner of Borgin and Burkes, a sallow man with greasy hair, shot a disgusted look at her. Was she that recognisable as the Girl Who Lived?

Hermione walked into one of the smallest shops, barely a shack, selling books. The owner, an extremely tall and thin witch looked down at her. Her accent was foreign, something that sounded Slavic.

'Where are your parents, girl?'

'I've come alone, Miss-'

The woman smiled, showing yellowish teeth. 'This is not a place for little girls. You'd better leave, da?'

'Pardon me, but I don't really see any age restrictions on entering here.'

'Let me inform you, little girl, that I am the proprietor of this place and as such, I reserve the right to service only those I deem worthy. Your age restrictions mean nothing here, rozumiet?'

'Please Madame, you do realize that derivations of the Unforgivables, as well as untested Dark curse,' she said sweetly, pointing towards said volume with her wand. ',have been termed illegal since the last nine years.'

The woman bent even more further, black eyes meeting brown. 'You might be bright for your age. But you're not bright enough to realise what sort of danger you're getting yourself into.' She had long fingers, noticed Hermione all of a sudden. Thin and pale, with sharp, painted nails. Good for gripping wands. Good for cursing people.

'You do not negotiate with me. I repeat, this is not a place for little girls. Your pathetic fancies of calling the Aurors will not work. Yes, I am selling illegal books like every other shop in this street. And no one gives shit about it. Learn that quick, and you might just survive.'

Her dark eyes lingered on the scar on her forehead.

'Be careful, mudblood.'

How the hell did she know?

'Budeš to potrebovat. You will need it.'

Hermione brought a copy of the Daily Prophet, and settled down on a bench. It did well to be informed. Millicent and Ron, when they wrote to her, did mention these happenings, seeing as she couldn't bring much from the magical world to her orphanage- another disadvantage for her but well, she'd like to do some reading on her own. She unfurled the copy, and the picture of a short, toad faced woman blinked at her. Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, read the caption.

On the ninth of August, ten days prior, Miss Umbridge had advocated the amendment of the Werewolf segregation and protection acts, see page 13. Several prominent members of the Wizarding society have condemned this new legislation. In the words of head of Magical Law Enforcement Amelia Bones,

"These new laws are discriminating and are manipulatively removing certain fundamental rights guaranteed by the Ministry. It is highly shameful that such an act could be passed by a majority in the Wizengamot." Aurors Lily and James Potter. Kingsley Shacklebot and other important Ministry officials have vehemently protested this as well, along with statements from Headmaster of Hogwarts Albus Dumbledore and ex Auror Mad Eye- Alastor Moody. Ex Auror Moody has also been rumoured as to having the DADA position at Hogwarts this year, see page 10.

Hermione flipped to page ten and sighed. An ex auror who might or might not be batshit crazy and was certainly paranoid of dustbins. And he seemed to be advocating werewolf rights, i.e getting on the wrong side of the Ministry. This was going to be an interesting year.

'So did you get a job?' asked Hermione. She and Luke were walking to the small sweetshop at the corner- Hermione had exchanged some of her galleons to pounds, something Hogwarts really didn't need to know what she was using their funds for.

'Not yet. There's always the option of working at Vanti's restaurant, but I'll still be looking. Chocolate or pistachio?'

'Pistachio.'

'You want to go to the park?'

She shrugged, and they walked further. Hermione sat on the swing, and licked her ice cream.

'I've always wanted it to rain when I eat ice cream,' she said. 'It's never happened.'

Luke chuckled. 'Tried it once, had a terrible cold for weeks.'

'Well, what's been going on when I'm away?'

'Damn, I really forgot to tell you this, but Ashfaq visited!'

Her eyes widened, a childish smile on her face. Ashfaq was Ms. Rehana's younger brother and even today, his name gave way to a childish excitement. He visited twice a year usually, and was the cool older brother she'd never had, with stories and magic tricks, candies and hidden gifts. He had gone to places she could only dream of, and he always got them chocolates. Hermione had lived for those small moments.

The second she saw him, she would run, and he would spin her around, and whisper anecdotes about his elder sister as kids, and look at her with those brown eyes, and tell her he'd take her on a ride on his motorcycle someday. However for the last three years, he'd gone back to Bradford and was planning to visit his parent's hometown, Karachi, Pakistan. They'd seen him briefly once, not again.

'How could you? When did he visit?'

'January, nope, February, yeah.'

'So he managed to get to Pakistan?'

'No, apparently there's some huge political shit going on there- Nawaz Sharif, I think his name is. And the president, can't remember his name, too long. Besides, Pakistan and India are up with Kashmir again, he said.'

'Again?'

He nodded. 'He asked for you though, and when he got to know you'd got a scholarship at some Scottish boarding school, he was really happy for you, Hermione.'

It made the smile on her face grow wider. There was a minute of silence and then Luke's voice cut in urgently.

'Hey, Hermione is it just me or do you smell smoke?'

She coughed.

A/N: It's 2021 and the Kashmir issue is still going on.