MournfulSeverity stands as the source of inspiration. In her very first review of the first chapter of "Love Empowered Empathy- Prologue," she had mentioned the word "Obscurial". That got me researching like a mad hare. Thoughts of "venom" and some sequel of "Spiderman" flooded my mind. And with the emotionally loaded "Mute" and the huge fantastic tale weaving in the backdrop of "Love Empowered Empathy"- Baby's Breath was quietly born in one of my sleepless nights. I hope against hope I shall not disappoint my readers.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, but my thoughts of AU and OC, the rest all belong to J K Rowling. This story just left me sleepless. Thus, with red eyes burning, I am penning it down, or better typing it down. My mind lives in the Harry Potter fanfiction world though my body is still thankfully anchored in the monotonous reality of existence. My themes, plotline, and storyline may, therefore, get indirectly influenced by many of the brilliant fanfiction writers on this site. And I humbly bow to such creative genius who give me much needed literary pleasures to see through the toils of mundane life. This chapter was beta'd by Moonvale. (Thank you. 😊)

Prologue

Tendrils of black solid smoke rose and engulfed the sickly woman. Her mouth hung open, her jaded black eyes bulged out of their sockets and her voluminous hair crackled with ominous magical energy. The Circle deep in the bowels of the magical hospital of St. Mungo's vibrated, again and again, threatening to explode at any time.

Right in front of Rita Skeeter's gleaming eyes, the non-hazy glass wall cracked. Her advanced scribendum meo quill hovered by her head jotting down her racing thoughts. The protection wards were down, the intern healers stunned and incapacitated right outside. The unsuspecting nitwits were lying against the blaring monitors and equipment panel, while corridors away Head Healer Norman was locked in her chamber.

Vibrating with excitement, Skeeter mentally shrieked with joy, 'This was the scoop I was hunting so desperately for.' The woman on the other side of the glass was supposed to be Hermione Granger. The very one who had humiliated her by trapping her in a glass jar.

The blonde journalist stepped close to the cracking glass. She could clearly see what had become of the muggle-born witch. The quill kept scratching next to her.

"War Heroine Hermione Granger looks nothing like herself. The Healers of St. Mungo's strongly believe she is an Obscurus, a threat to the magical community. But the Ministry of Magic and the Hogwarts staff are working together to keep this hushed up and away from the public eye. But this duty-bound reporter is presenting the bare facts, as she stands inches away from danger or her own death perhaps.

The explosion in the Archives of the Ministry of Magic, followed by the suspicious murder of Tracy Davis. is supposedly linked to Miss Granger. She was once believed to have had a fling with Harry Potter. Right after the war, she was found wrapped in the arms of celebrated Quidditch player and War Hero Ronald Weasley. But then, it seems, she couldn't quite rein him in. Mr. Weasley left her for Miss Lavender Brown.

Reliable sources have confirmed that the broken-hearted witch is now considering both the Headmaster Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy as her intended beau...both are currently unattached. Mr. Malfoy has been seen spending a considerable amount of time in the Ministry Archives. Reliable sources suggest Miss Granger frequents the Archives every day. This sincere reporter thinks, along with avid readers of the paper, what a cozy place for two passionate bookworms to meet.

This also explains why Hogwarts staff, most importantly Severus Snape (the elusive Headmaster and the former spy), is taking such great interest in this abomination of the Brain of The Golden Trio…"

She grinned maliciously as the glass finally shattered, her protection spell still working. She had also spelled the camera to click photographs every second. As a last precaution, the reporter levitated one of the unconscious interns and hid herself behind the person when the woman in front of her brought her blackened hands up and flicked her fingers.

At first, the intern got lifted off the ground and gently lowered right back to her previous spot next to the broken monitors. Startled, Rita Skeeter tried to move back. But then she heard it- the distinct neighing of galloping horses, felt the ground below her feet tremble, and had nearly turned back when five sharp blades tore through her body.

The scandalous Daily Prophet reporter could only open her mouth in agony as pain rocketed through her. Her eyes locked with that of the woman now standing right in front of her. In her fright she staggered back, her knees gave away and finally, she noticed the ghosts with long swords standing around her. The woman smiled down at her and hissed in mirth," You shouldn't have dared to sully Sire…"

"Sire…" was the last thing Skeeter could utter before she heard people barreling inside the enclosure, felt the presence of rampant Dark Magic and ghostly apparitions mocking her and welcoming her death with open arms.

scribendum meo literally means I write my mind.