Barely four hours before Albus Dumbledore swears in as Minister for Magic: mass breakout from Azkaban!

Right below the photos were little captions with names and their crimes- Augustus Rookwood, Antonin Dolohov, Bellatrix Lestrange...

The bottom half of the page was covered with Dumbledore announcing that Lord Voldemort, was, indeed, back among them and that the Wizarding Public, had of course to be very careful...

Hermione flipped the page, and the caption spread over the bottom half attracted her attention.

Aaron Greengrass, prominent member of the Wizengamot arrested in the early hours of today's morning! Awaiting trail, accused for tampering with markets and forgery.

Daphne's father?

Her eyes skimmed through the article:

...International trade having been weak for the past few months...heavy losses for the Greengrass family...forged documents of "successful" Asphodel and boomslang skin trades across Europe published...Greengrass has been buying up stocks of asphodel and Mandragora, that has been in an acute shortage since the last few weeks..heavy fines for the family...talks of being removed from the Wizengamot...

Rather illuminating, really.

She flipped over the page once again. Hermione had expected Lord Voldemort's return to be one of the highly discussed news or even the Azkaban breakout, but it seemed yesterday night had been chock full of surprises.

Lucius Malfoy demands that Hogwarts students must have a newer Wizarding History class!

In the light of recent events, claims Mr. Malfoy, lead opposition in the Wizengamot, head of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, that Hogwarts students must be educated on recent Wizarding history- especially the first Wizarding War...

The bell rang in the distance. Hermione Granger certainly couldn't miss two classes in one day.

She had, of course, missed the last page, the newspaper abandoned on the house table.

Two Muggles dead in Blacklock, one suspected dementor attack. What does Dumbledore say?

It was uncanny, walking these familiar corridors that had served as home like a stranger. Hearing all the whispers, and the waiting, the waiting...

Hermione tried to ignore the pressing stare of everyone looking at her like she was some alien. Voldemort was back, and so were his Death Eaters and the whole school considered her both the hero and the villain. She went through the rest of the classes like a robot. There was no familiar sense of home in her mind; and when she walked past McGonagall in a corridor, all she could think was that the woman looked so sad.

She was a stranger, here. She was no longer the cast aside, forgotten Girl Who Lived. In her mind's eye, she thought of herself at thirteen facing the charming face of Tom Riddle and taunting him, in a stupid, reckless way.

You'll meet your parents soon, mudblood, I promise...

A prophecy. Some crackpot fool's drunken words had killed her parents. And what was in it? Was it, as Dumbledore claimed, just that- unreliable and meaningless? Or were they true? A prophecy needed belief, and Voldemort had most certainly believed in it well enough...

Hermione Granger was going to die.

'Hermione!'

She had been walking towards the dungeons, alone again, as she turned to face Ginny Weasley. She looked worried.

Ginny bit her lip, her red hair bright in the dim corridor. 'Look...I've heard...'

Hermione sighed, smoothing back her hair. 'Was it Ron?'

'Honestly, no. It's just...you know what I mean, it doesn't take a professor to join the dots.'

'And? You're here to advice? To tell me I should just fucking mind my own business and just take it all and stay down-'

Ginny shrugged. 'I didn't say anything.'

'Right.' said Hermione, sarcasm dripping. 'Please do continue.'

Ginny considered for a second, taking a look as to who else was taking this particular corridor to the dungeons but it was only some reedy first year.

'I'm not asking you to stay quiet. I'm asking you to be careful.'

'Thanks for the concern.'

'You're angry.'

'Yes, I am.'

'Considering you nearly killed Malfoy, why are you angry?'

Hermione grit her teeth, not meeting Ginny's eyes. 'Because I fucking don't know what's going to happen.'

'The answer was a war the last time.'

'They damn well killed the Minister of Magic and the most politically stable opposition! The answer is the same this time.'

'Which is exactly what my idiot brother is saying too! We're with you, Hermione. I'm not going to pretend I'm the Chief Justice. But I know a few things and one of it is that you're not facing this alone.'

Hermione could feel a headache building up. She exhaled sharply, looking down at her shoes.

'Right.' she repeated, trying to calculate if the feeling in her stomach was gratitude or horror. 'Thanks, but I have to leave.'

'Yeah, whatever,' said Ginny, still looking at her, even as she started to move downstairs.

'Pureblood,' she said to the stone wall, finding that it didn't feel like another stupid joke right now. The word was boring in to her, searching for weakness, latching on it... The wall slid to the side, revealing the perpetually cold common room with its carved snakes and human ones. She suddenly hated everything.

Hermione took a seat well away from the fire and the group of laughing seventh years around it, finding a little chair shrouded in the dark.

("You didn't hear, Glen?"

"Reckon Antonio's gonna try out?"

"Mother always wanted me to go to Durmstrang. Damn unfortunate I have to slum it out with you."

"C'mon, man, eternal glory-"

"Fuck glory. Give me those thousand galleons!"

"There'll be a test, boys. And it isn't on who can spit the farthest-"

"Or who can finally get Glen to date someone-"

"I'm always available- fuck-that damn well hurt-")

The chatter was meaningless in her ears. Stupid Triwizard tournament was all everyone was talking about. All those of age had to pass some test to be able to go to Durmstrang; and not surprisingly the younger years were insanely jealous. Ron would have raved about it, she thought, and then stopped immediately. It was too painful.

The answer is a war this time.

She wasn't fit for wars. She would be dead in seconds. What wand waving would she do in front of Voldemort?

The stone wall slid open again, revealing Daphne Greengrass with her sister. She looked like she just wanted to disappear. Daphne pursed her lips, her jaw set as she walked through the filled common room, ignoring the pressing stares. Hermione watched her shuffle below the staircase to the girl's dorms. She stood up suddenly,clutching her wand tight, and rushed downstairs. Greengrass was sitting in her bed right next to the green hued windows.

'Hello, Granger.' she said brusquely, not looking at her. Hermione shuffled to her own bed at the other end, twirling her wand. 'Hey.'

'What do you want?'

'Nothing.' said Hermione, leaning back. 'Nothing.' She licked her lips, twisting her fingers together. 'I suppose I'm just...sorry.'

She wasn't, not really. She just wanted to know what the world was thinking of her. And Greengrass was the pureblood crowd; she had played that part till now.

'Oh please,' said Daphne bitterly. 'My own mother isn't sorry.'

'Is it true, then?'

'Your choice, Granger. You can trust; you can choose not to.'

'Is that what you make of me?'

'Why does my opinion matter?'

'It doesn't, not really. I just want to...make some sense of it...'

Daphne finally turned to face Hermione, her eyes hard. 'You want to know what I think of the situation? Well, Malfoy said the truth, right before you cracked open his head. The Dark Lord is back and he will kill you and the traitors and the non believers. He will kill Dumbledore, he will take over Hogwarts, and he will win this time. Miracles don't happen twice.'

'That's what I wanted to hear.'

Hear the harshest truths. Prepare for the worst. Prepare to fight and die.

Daphne smiled weakly. 'You're your own disaster, Granger.'

'Good morning, class. I am Jacob Selwyn, the new DADA professor, and unfortunately, yes, I am going to last the whole year. As you have no doubt heard, the time for simple disarming charms is over. We are fighting together; we are fighting for a new world. I do hope we are all aware of Professor- pardon me, Minister Albus Dumbledore's new policies and guidelines we must adhere by. We will start today- with the practice of a spell known as the Reductor curse...'

Jacob Selwyn, a man with thick eyebrows and a little goatee, smiled at them all, showing perfectly even teeth. Hermione did not miss the full sleeves. His dark hair was smoothed back evenly, and his wand was held in front of him as he rattled off a few definitions.

Upfront, Malfoy was smirking.

'I want to wipe that right off his stupid face,' muttered Dean, who was sitting beside her. A few rows away, Ron was sitting with Potter, determinedly not looking at her. 'Hey, Hermione, you say you know what happened to his head?'

'Huh?' asked Hermione, feigning ignorance. She still had no idea why she hadn't been punished or called to Snape or even been expelled. She was going mad with the frustration; the waiting was killing her. It was like a blind man with a jigsaw puzzle- she could see the pieces clicking; Emmeline Vance and Fudge dead in one night; Malfoy on the Wizengamot; a pureblood supremacist as her DADA professor; the Triwizard Tournament in Durmstrang; and even Aaron Greengrass's arrest. Surely the man who had forged so much would have had the cash to grease a few hands. But she didn't know how it fit together.

'Nope. Do wish I'd been responsible, though.'

'Ha,' exclaimed Dean, smiling. 'That would be a honor for that pale ass. Say, you ever wanted to participate in the Tournament?'

'Excluding the fact that I'm fifteen, why would I want to risk my life stupidly?'

'A thousand galleons, girl!'

'What's the point to something I won't be alive to spend?'

Dean chuckled, and then immediately stifled it, as Selwyn was starting to call people up. Hermione went after Tracey Davis, who was mumbling something to Selwyn.

'Why, Ms. Granger. Show us!'

His tone was slightly chiding, almost a casual deprocative. Hermione did not say anything but barely whispered the words under her breath. She could do it non- verbally, of course, but she figured it would be prudent not to display it in front of a potential Voldemort supporter. He would be planning another elaborate drama to somehow kill her; and no doubt the man standing in front of her would be one of the puppets. The less capable she seemed in Voldemort's eyes; the more he would underestimate here. She would at least get some sort of little advantage in it. After all, she doubted Barty Crouch would have relayed their fight in a very unbiased manner.

The desk was reduced to fine dust. Selwyn's eyebrows narrowed but he made no other comment.

'He seems very fond of you, doesn't he?' asked Dean, as Selwyn now started to dictate notes.

'Oh, of course. God forbid he acts like he hates mudbloods!'

Dean winced. 'You say it so easily.'

'Silence, class!' came Selwyn's voice, and Dean dropped his voice. A few seats away, Ron was staring at the board like it was the OWL's answer copy.

'They say it so easily.' retorted Hermione, her quill scratching against the parchment.

'I forget sometimes.'

'Lucky you.' she said coolly. 'The rest of us just live here.'

Dean stifled a chuckle, a blot of ink spreading messily across his parchment. He let out a low whistle, turning behind to where Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were sitting together, and rolled his shoulders.

'It's different in Gryffindor, you know. No one...says things like that.'

'I didn't ask for Slytherin.' she said quietly. It was a half truth. She hadn't asked for anything. All she had wanted was a book with her parents name in it. Something to look at and feel that she hadn't dissapointed them, not that she would know the feeling.

'It isn't that Slytherins are some evil dictators, you know. It's just...that they usually turn out to be the minions of one.'

Hermione laughed, a hollow, biting laugh, as she ignored the way Selwyn was looking at her; like she was something dirty that needed to be cleared, like she was some weed. Well, this weed didn't let go that easily.

'I wish I was in Gryffindor,' she said. 'But then I realise that that would mean I had to put up with Potter and you know...'

Dean smiled and then it faltered in a few moments. 'I wish I'd never heard about magic sometimes.'

Hermione found that she couldn't face him. The end of her quill pierced the parchment, as a blot of ink made some stupid shape over the last few words she'd written.

Hermione loved magic. Magic was her life; it was her identity; it was her world. The thrill of it never wore off. It was like some sort of drug; every new spell she mastered; it was life.

And there were those people who said she couldn't have it.

'Magic is worth all of this.' she said, very quietly.

'Miss Granger,' said McGonagall, the corners of her thin lips making almost a straight line. Her eyes were tired.

Hermione sat in front of her, hands clenched together. The numerous portraits of the former Hogwarts heads were listening in rapt attention except one thin man who appeared to be dozing. McGonagall's office still retaned a few instruments she remembered from her brief time here during the Chamber of Secrets debacle.

'As you would know, Hogwarts will send its own delegation to Durmstrang for the Tournament. As Headmistress, I must go to represent Britain and Hogwarts. In the mean time, I do hope you will lie low.'

Hermione looked her in the eye and nodded slightly.

McGonagall dropped her voice, as the corners of her mouth twitched in the barest of smiles. 'I hope you will take my advice. We- we have not been the best in your support, Miss Granger. But again, I hope you will understand the gravity of the situation. Dumbledore did not desire this certainly; but it is unavoidable. You have no doubt heard of the recent Azkaban breakout- anyways, please- be safe.'

'I will do my best, Professor.' said Hermione, but all she had wanted to say was a scathing fuck you- stop acting like you fucking care.

'Grab the fucking cup, Pucey!'

Hermione entered the Slytherin Common Room to the loud racket of a party going on. She slipped to the side, as Adrian Pucey and another Slytherin girl whose name she didn't know were being cheered on by the sixth and seventh year crowd. A horde of them were standing together, in one of the biggest celebrations she'd seen.

'We could have had more, from our own house,' said the girl loudly, as the fifth years in the distance were sitting there and concocting plans on to lift the crates of firewhiskey to the side. Across the Common Room, a firewhiskey cooling in her own hands, Yusra Shafiq winked at her. She gestured to the chairs at one of the corners.

'If it hadn't been for that stupid old bitch McGonagall!' completed the girl, as the crowd booed.

'At least the old codger is gone!'

'Slytherin will rule soon once again!' came a loud voice. Hermione didn't turn, and took a seat in her now familiar corner.

'Hogwarts for the cup!'

'Slytherin for the cup!'

'Hi, Yusra.'

Yusra nodded, sitting beside her. 'Want a drink?'

'No thanks.'

Yusra took a deep sip, leaning back. Her dark hair was perfectly sweeped in a braid; there wasn't a strand out of place. 'You heard about Greengrass, didn't you?'

'Yeah,' replied Hermione. 'It doesn't make sense.'

Yusra nodded, her dark eyes somewhere away. 'You're right. Greengrass has enough money to bribe few officials.'

'Maybe the Ministry is finally clearing up under Dumbledore.'

Yusra snorted loudly. 'Yeah, and the Goblins have become friendly. Dumbledore or any other noble skiv, the Ministry will be the same. Even if the family was in high debt- which isn't improbable- they guard their image the most of all. They would never risk something like this. They've always been quite neutral, the Greengrasses.'

'And you, Yusra?' asked Hermione, her tone jesting but underneath it, she knew Yusra had always known what she meant; however she concealed it.

She waved a hand dismissively, her dark eyes shining. 'Oh, all this Dark Lord business? No one's side but my own. I might even have a vacation as of it- mother's always talking about a cousin we have in India. But I think I'll help you, if it comes to it. Always had a soft spot for you.'

Hermione laughed. 'Speaking of which,' said Yusra. 'You do seem down.'

'Oh, please. What could have possibly happened to me to make me feel down? Everything's been sunshine and roses, as always. '

'Yeah, yeah. You want to practise blasting something again?'

Every inch of her felt tired, but the feeling of satisfaction in her was tempting. It would help her reflexes anyway- a challenge would be refreshing.

'Why not?' Hermione grinned.