Hermione Jean Granger was a witch. When she first learned she was a witch Hermione went to her nearest library and took out every novel, reference book, tape, and a pamphlet relating to witches. She soon discovered that Muggles really didn't know a thing about witches and, subsequently, she found that the informational packets Deputy Headmistress McGonagall had given her were much more helpful. However, one bit of Muggle information had stuck with her. When a curious eleven-year-old Hermione looked up "witch" in her trusty dictionary it claimed, "witch. /wiCH/ noun.

1. a woman thought to have magic powers, especially evil ones, popularly depicted as wearing a black cloak and pointed hat and flying on a broomstick.

2. an ugly or unpleasant woman."

At these definitions, young Hermione was displeased. She was not evil (though she had been told she had a vindictive streak but, dang it, that wasn't the same as evil!), hats had never fit over her thick, bushy hair (much less a pointed one), and there was no way real witches flew on broomsticks. It was the second definition, though, that really got to the child. She had always been made fun of for her outrageous hair and her buck teeth and her vivacious approach to learning.

Maybe I'm seen as unpleasant because I'm a witch. Hermione thought as she paced anxiously across her bedroom. Maybe that's why people don't like me…

She continued to pace, working herself into a tizzy. The child had started to cry and wondered if she was destined to be the outcast. With a change of mind, the girl suddenly stopped, clenched her fists, and definitely whispered,

"No. I am smart and capable and if people don't like me then- then well, t-then they are the unpleasant ones!"

During her declaration, Hermione's hair moved as if by an unseen force. Sparks of pure magic ran through it, driven by her resolve. The room filled with stifling magic and, even to a muggle, the girl would appear to glow.

This was not accidental magic but, rather, an Aura Resonance. That's when a person of strong magical capabilities loosens hold of their magic for a time, often as a show of magical strength, or warning. Willpower and anger. Two things that drove Hermione to extreme magical prowess. However, Hermione did not realize this. Instead, her defiant declaration had made the child quite sleepy and she quickly dressed into her nightclothes and unceremoniously passed out on her bed. And, as she snoozed, H J Grangers fate was slightly, but significantly, altered.

Summer Before Fourth Year

Hermione sighed with displeasure and rolled her eyes upwards. Her location was a French bistro on the Île de Porquerolles. The tiny island off the French Riviera was where the Granger family had vacationed for decades. Lovely sea air blew in through the open doors that looked out onto a breathtaking view of rugged cliffs and sparsely populated beaches. No, the scenery was not Hermione's problem. It was the company. Emma Granger nudged her daughter under the table and gave her a pointed look that clearly said, "Behave, missy''. Hermione straightened up and did her best to look chastised. Emma softened her gaze and gave her only child a small encouraging smile. She then turned back to her conversation with Hermione's Aunt Clarissa on the mating habits of spider monkeys (Aunt Clarissa's work).

Hermione watched as her mother nodded politely at the appropriate times as the other women droned on about monkey sex. Emma Granger was a saint. She could talk to anyone about anything and did so with grace. Hermione, however, was a bit more like her father Daniel "Dan" Granger. He was down the table tightly gripping his fork, listening as his brothers snobbishly and subtly tried to one-up each other. Hermione watched with sympathy as her Dad's left eye started to twitch. Noticing her gaze, he turned to look at his daughter and mouthed "run". Hermione giggled and turned her attention back to her breakfast. Her Dad was a person who believed that one's accomplishments should speak for themselves and that a kind word was always the best word. However, he came from a family that thrived on overt, nasty competition and lots (and lots) of bragging.

The Granger clan was old. Really old, even by wizarding standards. Its members had passed through the halls of Oxford, Harvard, MIT, and more (as students and professors). Before then, the Grangers had served alongside Lords and Dukes as glorified managers and aides. However, they had also been scholars and knights. In fact, Hermione's great-great-great-grandfather had been named an Earl. That title, however, currently belonged to Hermione's Great Uncle John who had, for the fifth year in a row, skipped the annual family reunion.

Lucky man, Hermione thought.

Uncle John disliked the family dynamic even more than Hermione and her Dad did. Even though the current Granger members were smart, most of them were, to put it delicately, arseholes.

"Eh bien, je ne serais pas pris au piège dans quelque chose comme ça." Cousin Isobel said as she scrunched her nose in distaste and stared out the window at a women in a sequined string bikini.

Hermione snorted into her plate and shook her head.

Isobel turned to her and smiled sweetly, "Voudriez-Vous?"

Hermione turned to face her cousin, also replying in French, "Oh Isobel, of course, you wouldn't wear that. It would be a little too, "Hermione paused and slowly looked her cousin up and down, "snug."

Isobel's face darkened as she glared at her cousin. She opened her mouth too, no doubt, deliver a scathing reply when the witch cut her off.

"We wouldn't want you to chafe, dear. All that skin rubbing together would give one a nasty rash." Hermione smiled meanly as her other two cousins, Mark and Anna who had been listening in from the other side of Isobel, chuckled.

Isobel glared at all her cousins and stood up, purposefully hitting Hermione on her way to, undoubtedly, harass some poor waitress. Hermione sipped her coffee (she had a particular fondness for the stuff) and gazed into the sea. Isobel was a stick of a girl. However, she had been a chubby child and was still quite sensitive about her weight. This didn't stop her from judging everyone else, though.

Anna called Hermione's attention, "You know, even though you go to that school of yours you're still a hoot to have around."

"Why, thank you" Hermione replied dryly.

All Grangers went to top British Boarding schools and they always have. The fact the Hermione went to an unknown school and that it was called Hogwarts and that she couldn't talk about anything she learned there meant that her entire family looked down on her. In actuality, they were relieved. Hermione was scary smart, had been since she was a child. In a family that fully embraced the dog-eat-dog mantra, Hermione had been the clear top dog. When her parents announced that she was going to some obscure school in Scotland that had no notable alumni, the rest of the Granger clan was quite pleased.

Hermione dutifully ignored her cousins and finished her breakfast. The breeze moved her hair and kissed her skin as it went, smelling of the sea and fine bread. She smiled and recalled another of her favorite smells, fire burning, and the thick smell of magic in the Gryffindor common room. It was cruel to let a witch do magic. Give her a wand. Teach her spells. And then, when summer comes, forbid her from practicing any magic at all. Of course, purebloods could do all the magic they wanted. The Trace couldn't detect underage magic in a home with wards. But Hermione was a Muggleborn and her Muggle homes' only ward was a brown picket fence, a slightly overgrown rose bush and her disgruntled pet cat. This injustice was one of many items on Hermione's "Things That Helped Voldemort Rise To Power" list. It was right in between "House Elves are basically magical slaves" and "Entitlement."

Hermione wished she could feel the thrum of magic race down her arm, into her wand, and explode into a strong spell. She imagined dueling with Professor Lupin again (like she had blackmailed him into teaching her last year). Sweat dripped down her temple and stung her eye as she spun, losing hex after hex, whilst avoiding Lupin's powerful returns. She would soon lose like always, but maybe, this time, she was a little closer to victory. Her wand grew warm in her hand. She slashed it downwards releasing pure magic that tickled her fingertips and lit up the classroom in a deep blue reign of sparks. It was electrifying and-

"Ahem!"

Hermione's eyes flew open, she didn't realize they had been closed, and her dreamy grin turned into a frown. Isobel had returned to her seat and was completely ignoring Hermione. It was Anna who had coughed. She was currently leaning forward, past Isobel, to smirk at her bushy-haired cousin.

"What are you daydreaming about, Hermione?" She asked.

Thinking fast, Hermione replied, "Oh, just about how fun it will be to finally meet my mentee."

Anna frowned, "What are you talking about?"

"Well, at my school," Hermione replied with a haughty air, "fourth years mentee a first year. It's to help them acclimate to the rigorous academic schedule. We've been talking all summer and I just can't wait to meet her."

Anna snickered, "Oh yes it would be just awful if a 'Hogwarts' student fell behind in the 'rigorous' academics."

The rest of Hermione's cousins laughed at Anna's remark and Hermione wished, not for the first time, that the Statute of Secrecy didn't forbid her from Transfiguring her cousins into squirrels. She frowned and started to form a scathing retort when her Mum interrupted.

"Pumpkin, it looks like you're finished with breakfast. Why don't you go to that little bookstore you wanted to visit."

Hermione grinned at her Mum, thankful for the out.

"Yes, Mum."

She got up from the table and was walking out when she heard Isobel call, "Bye, Pumpkin!"

Hermione bristled and forced herself to keep walking, "They aren't worth it, they aren't worth it, they aren't worth it."

One thing Hermione really needed to work on was her temper. Being friends with Ron and Harry sure didn't help that. Her best friends were fellow hot-heads. Hermione herself was known for taking no crap. Even her first year, when her know-it-all nature meant she had few friends, she still wouldn't take anything lying down. It all came to fruition on Halloween when Hermione ended up in a bathroom, pacing back and forth, trying to convince herself not to kill Ron Weasley just because he had been mean to her. It was only after a nasty encounter with a Troll, during which Ron and Harry tried to save her, that Hermione forgave Ron.

Her unrelenting and head-strong nature had made her quite a few enemies. Hermione pondered her last three years at Hogwarts as she exited the cafe onto the island streets. Wandering down the cobblestone, she donned her sunglasses and thought back to her biggest conflicts. When Pansy Parkinson refused to sit by her during first year (she couldn't lower herself to sit by a "filthy Muggleborn") Hermione hexed her to feel hot coals every time she sat down. Every time a Ravenclaw claimed that she "wasn't that smart" Hermione would remind them that she was first in her class and ask if they needed a tutor. And when Draco Malfoy had called her a Mudblood back in second year, Hermione had laughed.

(flashback)

There was a brief silence after he said it. Even the Slytherins looked a bit shocked. The Gryffindor team quickly came to her defense. A shouting match ensued and Hermione heard Ron scream, "How dare you!" Hermione stood in a brief surprise. It was like she was little again and being picked on in the schoolyard. For a second, just a second, Hermione felt very, very small. She knew what that word meant. From the first moment she experienced prejudice in the wizarding world, she did her research. He was saying that she had dirty blood. He really believed that the circumstance of her birth meant that she was less than him. For a moment Hermione wanted to cry. She had realized that Malfoy was firm in his beliefs. There was nothing anyone could do or say to make him believe she was a human being equal to him. This, she understood, is how Voldemort rose to power. Slimy little purebloods like Malfoy honestly believed that they were doing the right thing by putting the little mudbloods in their place.

But then Hermione smiled. How does he validate his beliefs when I do so much better than his in class? How does he explain to his prejudiced Father that I clearly have more magical power than him? And then Hermione started to laugh.

The shouting match stopped as they turned to the second year witch, cackling with glee. Draco couldn't help but think that she looked like the pictures he'd seen of his crazy Aunt Bellatrix. Hermione was laughing so hard at this point that tears started to roll down her freckled cheeks.

"Um, Hermione," Harry cautiously asked, "are you okay?"

Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes, still sporadically giggling, as she caught her breath.

"I'm fine Harry." She turned to face Draco with an evil little grin. "I just think it's so funny that an inbred little pureblood like you," her voice rose over the protests that started from the snakes, "can claim I'm lesser than you when I get better grades."

The snakes, even their 7th-year captain, grew quiet as Hermiones' magic filled the air and sparks leaped from her wand she had gripped in her hand.

"I have stronger spellwork," her voice grew louder, "and I don't have to bring up my genealogy every time I want to win an argument!"

With that, in a fit of cold rage and magic, she snapped her wand out and struck Malfoy with a spell. He staggered backward and grabbed his forehead in pain. When he pulled his hand away the Slytherins hollered in fury and some started to turn their wands to Hermione, but the Gryffindor team was much faster.

"We dare you-"

"-to try something." Fred and George ground out, all their wands pointed threateningly towards the snakes.

The Slytherins backed away glaring at Hermione in anger and not a little fear (he would probably deny it later but 5th year (insert name) had a little respect). Then they hustled off in the direction of the school hospital, dragging a moaning Draco Malfoy with them. For across his forehead, etched in welting lines, read the word "Inbred".

(end flashback)

Hermione made enemies for the Malfoy family that day along with most of the pureblood supremacists in Slytherin. Of course, some were quietly supportive. Tracy of Slytherin now subtly nodded at Hermione in respect. The Greengrass sisters (also of Slytherin) no longer ignored Hermione but would smile at her in the hallways. And Blaise Zabini decided to call her his, "favorite little muggleborn". Which she let slide on account of how funny a shade of red Pansys' face turned when he said it. But she also got more snide comments, more "accidental" bump-ins, and more confrontation.

Hermione had never thought of herself as a bad kid. She'd never received detention or was sent to the principal's office, but she got in more fights that year than most of Gryffindor. Slytherins caught her whenever she was alone and they were only spurred on by the whole Chamber of Secrets incident. Honestly, it was a blessing that she was petrified. If she hadn't been - the house of snakes surely would've tried to kill her by May. She was so thankful when third-year Professor Lupin agreed to train her. Through him, she learned how to actually use the spells she knew (and Hermione knew a lot of spells). That year, the Slytherins slowly realized that hexing her was an increasingly bad idea.

Hermione halted her musing when she felt eyes on her. She turned to see a stout man walking a stone's throw behind her. He smiled and waved his fingers at her. Hermione's heart jumped and she turned back around and sped up. Looking around she didn't recognize where she was.

"I can't believe this," she thought, "I got distracted and now I'm lost with a creeper tailing me."

Hermione knew what happens to girls who get lost in foreign countries. However, unlike them, Hermione had a deadly weapon, her wand. Only, she had left it at home packed safely away in her room. The Statute of Secrecy forbids underage witches and wizards from traveling through Muggle worlds with a wand. (Of course, purebloods could bypass this by "giving" their wands to their parents, but Hermione, sadly, could not). She felt very, very vulnerable, and had a bad feeling that this wasn't going to end well.

"No", Hermione shook her head, "this won't be ending well for him. I may not have my wand, but I still have my brain."

She sped up and, risking a glance behind her, saw the man was keeping pace with her.

"Assaulters of young girls and women love being in control. They like the power." She thought, assuming if he was trying to mug her he'd have done it by now.

"Don't follow the pattern and I'll surprise him. Thereby taking the power back."

She glanced over her shoulder again. He had disappeared and she stopped walking in confusion.

"Where did-"

"Ha!"

Hermione whirled around. Appearing from a side street, the man approached her with a sickening grin.

"Petite fille," he reached out to her. Closer up she could see he was younger than she had thought but covered in a thin layer of dirt and sweat. But it was his face that drew her attention. His pupils were dilated and slow, but his leering gaze still roved her body.

"Non!" Hermione screamed. She backed up but he lunged forward and seized her forearm in a vice grip.

He pulled her forward and threw her down the side street. It was darker here and damp. Hermione scrambled to her feet but he was already there to push her back down. Hermione crawled backward and he said nothing as he stalked forward.

"No, no, no, no," she thought desperately. She was almost blind with terror. Her vision was blurry and all she could smell was the man as he bent down and grabbed her arm again.

He rasped, "Une jolie f-fille, petite fille."

Hermione couldn't help but think, why? Why me? He stroked her face and Hermione closed her eyes in revulsion.

"Non," she whispered.

He chuckled, "Oui."

"Non!" she screamed.

Her eyes flew open as he drew back to slap her.

With furrowed brows, she screamed again, "No!"

Her magic reared up to answer her call. A crack! rang out and the man was thrown backward. Hitting the ground hard he rolled into the wall. Sparks of light snapped and splintered off into the air. As soon as it came, her magic left her. She stumbled, weary, to her feet but the man's pained moan drove Hermione into action. She ran forward and around the man, sprinting back into the main street. Something yanked her ankle and she hit the brick hard, scraping her hands and knees. The man let out a low guttural noise that struck fear into the witch's soul. She struck out with her other foot and it connected with a snap! on his face. He screamed and clutched his face, curling up in pain. Hermione scrambled to her feet once more and, with a new fury, she drew back and kicked him once, twice, three times in his stomach and face. Each connected with a dull thud.

With that, she took off back down the street the way she came. She ran hard, her feet pounding, sending pebbles flying. She never turned back, but her ears strained for the sound of following footsteps. The girl didn't dare turn around until she was once again surrounded by people. She glanced behind her and looked through the tourists, he wasn't there.

"Mademoiselle?"

"Ah!" Hermione spun back around. An older French woman stood, taken aback by Hermione's scream.

"Are you alright?" She questioned kindly.

Hermione felt her lower lip tremble.

"Non." She promptly burst into tears.

The older woman, who later introduced herself as Theresa, led a near-hysterical Hermione to the police station. There her parents were contacted and Hermione calmed down enough to make a statement, telling them and an officer what had happened (minus the magic). Three hours later she sat in her room in her family's vacation home. The shock had long worn off, her scrapes were disinfected, a bruise was forming on her side where he had thrown her, and her parents had explained to her that this was in no way her fault.

She sat on her private balcony and stared out onto the azure sea. Its shining waters calmed her down enough to think. She supposed her parents were explaining to the Granger family that she had fallen ill (Hermione had chosen to keep things quiet) and they would be cutting their trip a little short. Hermione pondered her day and wondered what would have happened if her magic had not responded in the miraculous way it seemed to do only for her (she would have to ask McGonagall about that). If she had been left to her own devices, essentially muggle, what could have happened.

"He could have killed me." she thought. Her eyes watered but she kept her tears to herself. Hermione knew that she needed a solution. She had believed that she could think her way out of any situation. It had always worked for her in the past. But Hermione had just learned a very valuable lesson. Sometimes, when the cards are down and shit hits the fan, action- immediate, swift, deadly action was all that could save her. She thought about learning how to fight, martial arts or Jiu-Jitsu, but quickly dismissed that. She wouldn't have a teacher at Hogwarts and that took years, if not decades to master. What she needed was a wand without the Trace. One not subject to the Statute of Secrecy.

She had read once that witches used to carry two wands. It fell out of practice in the sixteenth century. Perhaps Ollivander would be willing to sell her a second wand.

"Yes," she thought, "that's what I'll do. I won't let myself be defenseless again."

With that, Hermione left her balcony, latched the door, and crawled into bed. Ready to settle into a well-deserved sleep. She did her hair into a tight braid, her nightly ritual to tone down the next day's frizz. She paused when a flashback of being thrown into the brick raced past her eyes. She shook her head and determinedly continued to braid her hair.

"But maybe," she thought, her hands shaking as she tied off her plait, "a little bit of muggle self-defense classes wouldn't be a bad idea."