Hermione's hand almost reflexively landed on her wand as she got up. The sun was just starting to set, it was barely more than seven in the evening.

'I think it's coming from the right, on 'Crescent.'

'I reckon it's a fire.' Said Hermione, and the two of them ran across the street. The neighbourhood behind the orphanage wasn't exactly posh, but the street they were walking on was mostly middle class. The smoke seemed to be coming a few streets away, probably the one parallel to High street. If it really was a fire, that would be a hard blow, seeing as that locality was mostly poor.

'I think they've called 999,' said Luke.

'The shortcut, is it still open?'

'Yeah, to the right, Hermione.'

The grass was tall here, the house long abandoned. Hermione and Luke straggled around the weeds, quickly reaching the crumbling back wall.

'It's fallen even more,' she remarked, as Luke climbed over. Hermione followed on and jumped down, breath catching. This was the backyard of the Millers, to the right was the old lady and there was the greengrocer, no she lived left, why couldn't she remember?

She coughed. It was growing dark. Luke grabbed her hand and she followed, as they raced inside the locality, finally reaching the site of the fire.

Hermione gasped. The fire was raging, alive, angry. A woman was wailing, words she couldn't decipher, her baby in her arms as she looked on as her house burned.

'999.' Came Luke's voice, something steady. 'Miss, have you called the fire station? Who's inside? What's inside?'

'I've called,' the woman muttered, but she seemed to be ready to dart into the flaming house any second. She was slightly rocking back to front, mumbling something. Hermione thought it might be a prayer.

Hermione shuffled front, the smoke and heat scalding.

'Impervious!' she cast. She didn't know what she was doing, only that this had to stop. Wasn't this exactly what magic was supposed to be used for?

(Magic in front of muggles, prohibited-')

The woman wouldn't notice, only Luke did.

'Hermione, what-'

'Aquamenti! No, aguamenti!'

Water splashed from her wand, but very feebly. This was her first time performing this spell, so well-another try.

'Aguamenti!' she said again. The water that appeared now was more satisfactory but was nothing in front of the devouring fire.

'Impervious,' she cast again, as she walked further, to protect herself from the stray flames. She was in trouble, she knew it, so what was another spell?

'Hermione, stop, what if it's an electric fire-'

Fuck. She pocketed her wand, trying hard not to panic, even though that was exactly what she was doing. Why couldn't she think before anything?

'Hermione, what the-'

'Is it an electric fire?' she asked, feeling like an idiot. The woman didn't answer, just kept on rocking. The whole sight made her feel helpless, just any other muggle. Was this how her parents had felt in front of Voldemort? Had they known that death would come knocking on Halloween? Had they tried to fight back? But what could they have done- try to stab him with a knife? All because some crackpot fool had made a prophecy…

She was a witch. She wasn't her parents, she had magic. She could, she had to do something. But she couldn't think- all she was feeling was the scalding heat, the angry flames, the smell of smoke. Behind her Luke coughed again.

There was only one sentence running in her mind- if this had been the orphanage; she would be ashes.

Hermione Granger was not magic. She was useless.

'So, Granger, care to tell us what happened last year with the Weasley girl? Something about the Chamber of Secrets?'

Hermione who had been lost in thoughts about the letter she'd received days earlier ("Dear Ms Granger, we have received intelligence that a Water making charm ... further spell work on your part may lead to expulsion from said school") looked up. She sighed. Draco Malfoy was the last person she wanted to see on the Hogwarts Express. His minions, Crabbe and Goyle, were behind him, squeezed together to fit into the doorway.

'No.' she said clearly. 'And sod off, there's no royal parade waiting for you. Besides those minions of yours seem to need oxygen, so if you want them alive, I'd suggest you to move a little. The three of you are hogging the entrance.'

'You think you're clever, mudblood?' said Malfoy, drawing his wand rather dramatically.

'Yes, yes, you've terrified me. Now move- unlike you, I don't have all day. Why don't you go pick on those first years instead. Something more to your level, yeah?'

Malfoy's lip curled. He reached for his wand, and was about to say something when a sharp voice cut in.

'What is this here? Malfoy, Goyle move, give the girl some space to board-'

Hermione turned to face a tall, handsome boy with grey eyes. Parkinson would have swooned.

The boy looked at her, as Malfoy seemed to notice the prefect badge on his robes. It was almost simultaneous- the sneer that the boy was a Hufflepuff and the fear that he was a prefect.

'We'll see to this later, mudblood.' Said Malfoy as the three of them disappeared into the train corridor.

'How dare he?' spat the boy. 'Malfoy is such an-'

He quickly censored himself as though Hermione was a very innocent little firstie.

'Oh well, I'm Cedric Diggory,' he said, giving her a hand. She shook it and said, 'Hermione Granger.'

'I know,' said Cedric. 'That was extremely rude of Malfoy, to call you a-'

'A mudblood?' she asked, quite innocently, enjoying the expression of surprise on her being so casual and disgust on Hermione calling herself a mudblood on his face.

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. 'Yeah, that. It isn't something you say in polite company-'

'Malfoy is hardly known for his manners.'

'Maybe expecting him to act like a decent human is a bit too much to ask.'

'Yeah, well,' said Hermione, climbing onto the train.

'You didn't need to do that,'

'I know,' smiled Cedric, now helping her with her trunk (why was he so goddamn nice?).

'That wasn't a thank you. What I mean is that you don't need to interfere between Malfoy and me. I don't need the help.'

She meant it. Malfoy had been a constant itch for the last two years. Why should she suddenly need help when she'd managed well so far?

'Damn, quite angry you're for a third year. What's wrong?'

'Nothing's wrong, just that things in Slytherin are different. Besides, I've managed this for the past two years, I don't need help now. I'm not being rude,' she added. 'It's just how it is. Calling me a mudblood is no big deal here and I've learnt this stuff early. At any rate, thanks, the trunk was heavy.'

He looked surprised. 'Quite an optimistic one, aren't you? Well, I don't give up easy. See you around, Hermione!'

He purposefully emphasised the usage of her first name. Cedric winked, and then waving, disappeared into the crowd. Hermione sighed again and very determinedly, didn't wave back.

She must have arrived a bit late, seeing that almost every compartment seemed to be full. Hermione bumped into Ron, after five minutes of searching the compartments. He yawned.

'Didn't sleep a wink last night, our ghoul seems to have been hosting a self awareness concert. As if I need a reminder he lives right above my head. Did you find a compartment?'

She shook her head, and they continued along the corridor. Ron yawned again, as she slid open the door of the last one.

There was a small, blonde girl sitting in the corner. A very fluorescent pink pair of spectacles was perched on her long hair as she turned to look at them with large, blue eyes.

'Hello, is it fine if we sit here, everywhere else is full?'

She nodded slightly, and moved closer to the window. Her robes were hemmed with bronze and blue.

'You're Hermione Granger.' she said, nodding again. 'And you are Ronald Weasley.'

Ron looked surprised, as he sat down beside Hermione.

'How d'you know me?'

'I know your sister. Besides a Weasley and the Girl Who Lived being sorted in Slytherin isn't something that happens every year.' she said in a matter of fact voice. 'I'm Luna Lovegood, by the way.'

'Nice to meet you, Luna.' Said Hermione. Luna merely blinked, before saying something that something that sounded like Snorcacks and took out a book titled the Quibbler.

'Anything interesting in there?' asked Ron, leaning back.

Luna handed him the magazine, which had the picture of something that looked like a Hippogriff on it, and a title in bright yellow- The Swedish Crumple Horned Snorcack: Finally revealed- its strange habitats and habits.

'Which year are you in?' asked Hermione.

'This is my second year.'

Ron handed the girl her book back, and made a face at Hermione, who raised her eyebrows in question.

'Hermione, want to go see Harry?'

She glared. He knew she detested Potter, but Ron seemed to be thinking something else.

'Potter? Okay, yeah,' she said and the two of them walked out. As soon as the door slid shut, Ron nearly collapsed onto the floor in silent laughter.

'That girl-' he snorted. 'In Merlin's name, have I never heard this much nonsense in one page, not saying much as I'm not a huge reader, but man,'

'It's not funny if you're the only one laughing, Ron.'

'Fine, fine, but that book was just rubbish- something about Fudge being a goblin lover, and trying to break Gringotts by giving it to the elves because they'll serve us without any problems. I mean, I don't listen to Binns and even I know how brutal they can be,'

'Giving Gringotts to the elves?' Hermione repeated.

'That's just the beginning- and it had an article on something called Nargles, which apparently makes your brain fuzzy, now I know the secret of my Potions grades, it's been Snape's negative aura all along that's aiding the Nargles-'

'Nargles?'

'Oh and besides, I do feel sorry for that girl, she's probably a lunatic, seeing that her father's the editor. Weren't Ravenclaws supposed to be smart?'

'Maybe it's supposed to be a parody or something-'

The compartment door suddenly slid open, as Luna walked to where they were standing. She didn't blink, but said in a voice that seemed to have lost all its dreamy quality.

'I thought you were going to see a Harry Potter?'

Hermione blinked; Ron cleared his throat awkwardly.

'Yeah, we were just asking-' He seemed to realise that there was no one to ask but the walls, so he looked down at his shoes instead.

'Directions because we saw Longbottom- I mean Neville walk that way.' Completed Hermione.

'Funny, I thought I heard someone laughing. Must have been the Nargles,' she said, nodding to herself.

'Oh, and Ronald,' she added suddenly, her pink glasses on. 'Did you like the edition?'

Ron's ears went red. Hermione elbowed him.

'Oh, yeah, it was very interesting-'

'Daddy will be happy to hear that. Would you like a subscription?'

She elbowed him again. Ron opened his mouth, stuttering.

'Yeah, Luna, I'd like one, thanks.'

Luna gave a dreamy smile in response. The look of horror on Ron's face was something that deserved its own Hall of Fame to commemorate it.

'Why's Malfoy looking like he's just got a hair do?' whispered Hermione as she and Ron entered the Common Room. She and Ron had just been in a discussion as to who was the new defence professor- Dumbledore had mentioned that the DADA classes were cancelled for the first week, due to some change in schedule. Hermione thought it most likely had something to do with these werewolf protests.

It was comforting- the greenish light, the cold, the silence, it contrasted to the angry flames, the heat, the wailing of the woman. Somewhere through these last two years; it had changed from the snake pit to home. Hermione didn't mind being a Slytherin- it did tarnish her reputation among those who actually knew the facts of Halloween 1981, but it didn't matter much to her. It was just most of her year mates she couldn't stand.

'Merlin knows, maybe his daddy's found another way to slip dark artifacts into Hogwarts,' said Ron darkly. The image of blonde hair and the word dark artifacts seemed to stir something in her brain, like a fuzzy childhood memory she didn't remember experiencing.

Laura Burke and Adrian Pucey, the new fifth year prefect were informing the new firsties the rules of Slytherin. There were of course, no mudbloods, that honour went to Hermione herself, but there did seem to be a halfblood and a boy with a very pronounced Irish accent. She vaguely noticed a girl with the same shade of blonde as Daphne Greengrass, but apart from that the Sorting had been more or less ignored.

'Did Egypt do her any good?' asked Hermione.

'More or less, I guess. I mean, seeing Bill did make her happy, but she gets into these silent moods sometimes, like she's in some lost world-'

'So, Granger, what did happen last year with the Weasley girl?' came an annoying, shrill voice. Hermione sighed, turning to face Parkinson, who was sitting beside Malfoy and practically purring. God's sake…

'Nothing happened. Dumbledore appeared at the right moment and saved her. At any rate, Pansy, you seem to be a little too inquisitive about the Gryffindors?'

'Don't play the fool with me, mudblood-'

'Play the fool with a fool? What d'you mean?'

Ron sniggered. 'Anything funny, Weasley?' asked Malfoy.

'You really don't want me to answer that, Malfoy.'

Malfoy got up dramatically, twirling his wand.

'Up for a duel? A real wizard's duel, not your muggle ways-'

'As if you're good at either.'

'Shut up, you mudblood.'

Hermione sent a Stinging Hex in his direction- it seemed to hit its mark as Malfoy gave a high pitched yelp.

'Densauego!'

Hermione ducked at the last moment and quickly sent a Flipendo in his direction. Malfoy was knocked down but not before an unrecognisable spell hit her wand arm.

Hermione dropped onto the carpet, holding her hand gently, as she surveyed the damage. Fuck, it was burning like hell, and it seemed to have hit right over that burn from the fire. She heard the loud voice of Marcus Flint and Laura cursing, as Ron tried to bring her to her feet.

'I'm fine,' she protested, getting up, just as Laura Burke loudly proclaimed detention for both of them.

'Weasley was involved too,' piped Parkinson. Hermione shook her head to Ron who seemed to be ready to elaborate on this statement, trying to gesture that one detention for her and Malfoy was enough, he didn't need to join the club as well.

'So were you then,' said Millicent. 'The only people who used magic were Draco and Hermione-'

'Everyone, shut up. Granger, you'd better go to the Hospital Wing. Weasley, take her. Fighting is not allowed in the Common Room, and I know this isn't your first time. I'll be letting Professor Snape know about this, and he'll do whatever he wishes. Now get out of my sight, you're setting a bad example for the first years.'

Hermione swore loudly causing the new first years to look at her in surprise, like she was corrupting them. Pricks- they probably had their own set of pureblood approved swearwords. The first day of term and Malfoy had already managed to land her in a detention. Over nothing- the Chamber of Secrets episode had already been buried under Dumbledore's word and the new Werewolf law protests. Probably some blasted wound to his ego.

'C'mon Hermione,' said Ron, gripping her left wrist, as they made the trip to the Hospital Wing. She had only been there once- after the Chamber episode, and so she led the way, trying to remember whether it had been the right of the mad knight's portrait or to the left.

Of course, the mad portrait was there, yelling useless directions.

'Where'd you want to go, m'lady, Sir Cadogan will chase those mongrels away, scurvy, dragon pox inflicted-'

'Doesn't he ever shut up?' muttered Ron, as Hermione led to the right. The knight was still shouting, something about his own poetry.

'Madam Pomfrey,' called Ron. The matron turned from where she'd been measuring potions, took one look at the very angry red wound spreading on Hermione's hand and made her sit down on the bed as she hustled around, applying some salve.

'Malfoy did it,' said Ron in a low voice. 'I don't know what curse that was, probably learnt it from his Death Eater scum of a Father-'

'Mr. Weasley! None of that talk in my quarters. Now, Ms. Granger, there's nothing to worry about, it'll heal in a day or two. But there seems to be a burn already there?'

'Oh yeah, I kinda, I mean I kind of burned my hand- there was a fire in our locality.'

'Well, then it'll leave a scar. Of course, that can be removed, but only after the whole thing heals-'

'It's fine,' said Hermione dismissively. Scars weren't new for her.

Hermione stared depressingly into the dregs of her teacup (blue patterned because she was sitting next to Longbottom). The only other Slytherins apart from her and Ron were Parkinson and Daphne, both of whom had quickly decided that this would be their very own History of Magic, teacher approved bunking.

'I'm sorry to say, m'dears, that books will only take you so far in this subject. The Sight is a gift granted to a few…'

Professor Trelawney wandered around, looking like a human sized version of an insect, with her numerous shawls hanging. Hermione was afraid it might fall into the fireplace, looking at the sheer number of them.

'Oho, Miss Patil, you have the creeper, do be careful in your Herbology classes, as well as beware of backstabbing, jealous friends-'

'Yeah, Sprout says the Venomous Tentaculas are teething.' Mumbled Ron.

'So, Longbottom, is your grandmother doing well?'

She seemed to be making it her mission to scare everyone to death- apparently even seeing something that looked like the sun meant a sudden fire, or even a mundane bowler hat, (according to Ron anyway, Hermione thought it looked like a club instead) meant a violent death.

As the class was about to end (all Hermione had learnt was that by November someone in their class was going to drop dead), she raised her hand.

'Professor, when will we be learning on prophecies?'

Trelawney gave a dramatic sigh, and settled onto her overstuffed pouffe, shaded by the numerous incense sticks being lighted.

'M'dear, you ask of the magic of the great Seers! That is an ancient magic, magic that you cannot comprehend, clouded as we all are by the Real World. But I sense darkness around you, my girl, a tragedy, as sorry as I am to tell you this, you do have the markings, the curiosity for such a craft, but alas, the True Sight is granted to a few. I am sorry to say, unless the Fates deem you receptive for this lore, you will not be able to comprehend the intricacies of the Art I practise.'

'But do not lose hope,' she added, after the collective gasp of Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil in admiration ended. 'The Fates may deem you worthy, if you spend more and more time of your mental presence with those gifted with the aura…'

Hermione decided to take Trelawney's words with a pinch of salt and find a more reliable source instead.

Arithmancy was more satisfying ( Professor Vector had even mentioned that they would be able to craft their own spells in a year), and Ancient Runes, was just more or less of a new language for Hermione although where else it could be used other than ancient rituals and magic was still a mystery.. Care of Magical Creatures, as Ron and Millicent informed her, was very interesting but had the slight drawback of being taught by the Gamekeeper, who was notorious for raising an illegal dragon. And being sent to Azkaban.

Apparently his most recent hobby was trying to breed his own creatures.

Her detention was scheduled with Snape, knowing him, probably something along the line of scrubbing Goyle's last concoction from cauldrons for the weekend.

Hermione sat beside Ron for breakfast on Friday, having arrived a few minutes late, who was saying something to Millicent, pointing at the Daily Prophet. At the Gryffindor table, Potter seemed to be looking really nervous, he was playing with the food on his plate, and Longbottom was saying something. The Ravenclaws too, were in deep discussion – except Luna, who seemed to be humming to herself, as she pored through the Quibbler.

'Wasn't your mother a Black, Draco?' asked Daphne. Malfoy made a face.

'He was disowned.'

'I heard from my mother, that it's not just him, but your aunt as well?'

'His aunt's in Azkaban.' came Daphne's voice.

'Ron, what's the deal?' she asked, helping herself to some bacon.

'Oh, Hermione's here. Blimey, when did you come? I and Bulstrode have been meaning to tell you this, there's been a breakout from Azkaban- Sirius Black's escaped somehow! One of You Know Who's highest ranked Death Eaters- killed thirteen people with one curse!'

Hermione made her way to Professor Snape's office on Saturday for her detention, narrowly avoiding the mad knight, who had been yelling his horrible poetry ('Tis my bravery and courage unspoken...) at a passing fifth year, by racing through the other portraits.

She skipped over the last step, as she heard a female voice speak.

'-How, Sev, how could he have escaped? And that too now, after all these years? And as if that wasn't enough of a shock, Dumbledore says he's after my damn son-'

'Harry?' came Professor Snape's voice. 'Why would he be after Harry? If he is with You Know Who, certainly it should be the Girl Who Lived he must target, not your son. Black was your husband's brother in all but blood. And besides, he was with You Know Who, in his inner circle. Bellatrix Lestrange is his cousin. I would think he'd know more than anyone what actually happened that Halloween, that it was Granger really.'

'I don't know, just that well, you knew him, he hated his family- he fucking ran away from them to James' place. He never wanted to be a Death Eater; even after Dumbledore convinced him to do it, he did know it was needed for the War, but by God- he hated it all. Precisely why we could never believe it; twelve muggles, poor Peter, James absolutely couldn't go meet his mum, she was devastated…'

There was a slight pause, the clink of glass.

'Maybe he finally did snap? He was never completely sane, even you know that, Lily. I'm not one to judge, but he was a Black. Both sides. Your sentimental twit of a husband might have viewed that episode as a prank, but I'd believe you know he did it on purpose-'

'He was sixteen, we were all prats at that age.'

'Not all of us went around plotting murders-'

'Severus, you know him, he was reckless, impulsive. He isn't the type of bloke who plans things. You don't like him or my husband, I know. But I'd have thought you would be a little fair, unlike James; besides he's been drinking all night.'

'Lupin?' asked Snape quietly.

'He takes it hard, and this was almost right after all those horrible laws- I really hate that Umbridge woman. He's silent, but well, we know, it's been hard on us all, especially Harry. Besides,' she added. 'Dumbledore's been trying to get Remus for the Defense position; he's been trying to repel those amendments and stuff.'

Snape snorted. 'The staff is competent enough. As if we need Lupin to protect Harry.'

'I really don't know, Sev, it's been confusing, to say the least. I mean, we went to school with him, he was best man at our wedding. He was so fond of Harry, we named him godfather on James' side and yet, how he could betray us, god knows. James thinks he's escaped now because Harry's image got featured in the Sports edition, they'd attended some Quidditch game- but I don't buy it much. All evidence should show it as Hermione, she's the Girl Who Lived, but Dumbledore believes he is out for Harry.'

'Do not worry,' he said, and there was the clink of glass again. 'The dementors are on his trail, there's talks of them extending it to school.'

'I highly doubt that's going to be enough. They say you go insane in a year; it's been twelve. If the dementors didn't affect him then, it won't be a big deal now.'

Another pause, a deep breath, there was the rustle of pages, a loud noise as something seemed to have dropped.

'My bad, it's fine Lily, reparo!'

'I'm sorry, Sev, I didn't realise-' started the woman, in a panicked voice, but suddenly stopped. Snape's voice was controlled.

'It's nothing. I'd prefer not to talk about it.'

There was silence. The woman sighed, and it echoed in the stone dungeon. Her voice was soft, soothing- Hermione idly thought she would have made a good singer.

'Does it bother you still?'

'I've told you I don't want to talk about it.' His tone was cold.

Another awkward silence, it made Hermione wonder if she should leave or barge in. Snape was usually a punctual person, maybe she'd come a bit early, or maybe he'd just forgotten in the Sirius Black fiasco. To be honest, eavesdropping ethics was something she'd lost the day she'd become friends with Luke. It was fine, Hermione decided after a few seconds. Even Ron knew silencing charms, if Snape was really being careful, he'd have atleast put up an Imperturbable Charm.

'Well,' started the woman, as there was the scrape of a chair being withdrawn.

'I think I'll leave you alone, Sev. I just thought it might help to meet an old friend-'

'I know what you came for. You came here to ask for your son's protection.' His voice was again, very controlled, almost impassive.

'Think before you speak. I came here to see a friend, not to make Unbreakable Vows. There's Dumbledore for Harry's safety. I'd have thought that after all these years, you and James would've left behind this childish rivalry-'

'I have.' He said coolly. 'Your husband, on the other hand, has not.'

'And that shows how much you both have matured. Your husband, honestly, it's not like James is a hard name to pronounce. Where's the Floo powder?'

'Severus, where's the Floo powder?' she repeated.

'For Merlin's sake, sorry.'

'Oh well, me too, I guess.' she said sheepishly. 'I have been going a bit off road since the news, I couldn't sleep last night, especially with James and Remus like that…'

'Then go home and take a nap, maybe some Dreamless sleep. Your husband and his friends have always been emotional twits, they'll be fine, do not worry. Your son is safe at Hogwarts.'

'I know.'

'Lily, you have my word; I will keep your son safe.'

'I don't need your word, I trust you Sev.'

There was another short pause and Snape said.

'Nice to know.'

'Prat,' laughed the woman. 'You're so insufferable sometimes.'

He muttered something like so is your husband.

Hermione knocked on the door.