"Be still, O soul, with rapture ever rife! O mouth, with the childish smile! Far more than Life, the subtle bonds of Death around us twine."
Charles Baudelaire
I
Hermione Granger had always loved living in Hampstead Garden, a charming neighborhood in London. The quaint houses, the well-manicured gardens, and the friendly community made it the perfect place for a young girl to grow up. But little did she know that her life was about to take a tragic turn.
It was a peaceful evening in the Granger household. Hermione, a bright and curious nine-year-old, sat in her room engrossed in a book. She had always been fascinated by stories of magic and adventure, often losing herself in the pages of her favorite novels.
As the girl turned the pages, she could hear faint voices drifting from the living room downstairs. Curiosity piqued, she closed her book and made her way towards the source of the sound.
As she entered the living room, Hermione's heart sank. Her parents, Hélène and William, were engaged in a heated argument. Their voices were raised, filled with worry and concern. Hermione's name echoed through the room, catching her attention.
"I don't understand, Hélène," William said, his voice tinged with fear. "Our daughter is different, yes, but that doesn't mean she's possessed by some devil. She's just misunderstood."
Hélène, her face etched with worry, looked at Hermione with fear in her eyes. "William, you can't deny the strange things that have been happening. The other children are scared of her. They say she can do things that no normal child can do."
Unable to bear the weight of their conversation, the girl's eyes filled with tears. She had heard enough. She turned to leave, but before she could escape unnoticed, her father's gentle hand rested on her shoulder.
"Mia," he said, his voice filled with love and understanding. "Come here, my dear."
Hermione hesitated for a moment before allowing her father to lead her away from the unsettling discussion. He took her into his arms, holding her tight.
"What's wrong with me, Daddy?" she asked, her voice quivering.
Her father sighed, his heart breaking at her innocence. "Sometimes, my love, it's difficult for people to accept new things. It's easier for them to be afraid."
"But why is Mama afraid of me?" Hermione asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
William's eyes softened as he looked at his daughter. "Your mother isn't afraid of you, Mia. She's just worried because she doesn't understand. We'll help her see that there's nothing to fear."
Hermione nodded, finding solace in her father's words. "Can you read me a story, Daddy?"
A small smile tugged at William's lips. "Of course, my dear. How about 'Alice in Wonderland'? It's a magical tale that might just help you forget your worries for a little while."
The child snuggled into her father's embrace as he began to read. The words washed over her, transporting her to a world where anything was possible. As William's soothing voice filled the room, her eyelids grew heavy, and she drifted off to sleep.
In her dreams, she found herself in Wonderland, surrounded by fantastical creatures and enchanting landscapes. As she explored this magical realm, the young girl couldn't help but wonder how different her life would be if magic were real.
Hermione's parents, William and Hélène, were both dentists. They ran a successful dental practice on a busy street in the heart of London. With a rational approach to life, the two placed great importance on hard work and education, instilling these values in their child from a young age.
Despite their love for Hermione, they were at a loss when it came to dealing with her unusual abilities. These skills had caused them countless troubles and worries over the years. The couple had tried to keep them hidden from the world, hoping that they might eventually go away or at least remain unnoticed.
As he observed his daughter's remarkable feat, disbelief filled his gaze. William saw the five-year-old wave her hand casually and make her toys float in the air. The dolls, cars, and blocks hovered and spun around her, as if they were obeying her command. He felt a mix of awe, fear, and hope. He leaned closer to his wife and whispered softly, "Maybe it's just a phase. Maybe she'll stop doing this someday."
But Hermione was not like other children. She possessed a gift that she did not fully understand, a gift that set her apart and sometimes even made others fear her. The girl had the potencial to bend reality to her will, to make objects move, vanish, or change with a mere thought, to inflict pain or pleasure with a simple gesture.. She couldn't explain how or why she could do these things, but she knew they were far from ordinary. And so did her parents.
Hélène's heart filled with panic as she observed her daughter's peculiar behavior. Hermione extended her hand and gently made contact with a flower resting in a nearby vase. To her mother's astonishment, the vibrant and lovely rose instantaneously wilted and transformed into a lifeless brown hue, as if all vitality had been sucked away.
In a state of concern, Hélène anxiously scanned her surroundings, desperately hoping that no one had witnessed the incident. She swiftly grasped Hermione's hand, pulling her close, and whispered urgently, "Please, Mia, refrain from doing that in public. You never know who might be watching."
Of late, Hermione had started attending a new school with the hope of making friends and learning new things. Unfortunately, it did not go as her parents had hoped. She quickly became the target of bullies who took pleasure in teasing her for being smart and different.
The other kids would taunt her with hurtful names, steal her books, and even physically push her around. Hermione tried her best to ignore them, but sometimes, she couldn't help but react. And when she did, strange things happened.
One particularly difficult day, a boy named Robert snatched Hermione's book from her hands and tore it apart. Overwhelmed by anger and sadness, her emotions got the better of her. Without thinking, she pointed her finger at Robert and shouted, "Stop it!"
In an instant, the boy's hair turned a vibrant shade of green, and he began screaming in surprise. The other children, terrified by the unexpected turn of events, scattered in all directions.
"What did you do to me?" Robert cried, as he ran his hands through his hair.
Hermione lied, saying, "I didn't do anything!" She hid her trembling hand behind her back.
On another occasion, a girl named Betty poured ink all over her dress and laughed maliciously. The rush of humiliation and frustration that coursed through Hermione was too much to bear. Unable to control her powers, she clenched her fists tightly and muttered, "Go away!"
Suddenly, a strong gust of wind whipped through the air, snatching Betty's hat from her head and carrying it off into the distance. The other kids stood in awe, their gasps echoing through the silence. Hermione felt a blend of remorse, nervousness, pride, and an overwhelming sense of power.
"Where did my hat go?" Betty shrieked, as she looked around frantically.
Hermione said, "It was the wind," putting on an innocent face. She tried to hide her guilt.
Naturally, these incidents did not go unnoticed by the teachers and parents. Whispers and gossip surrounded the nine-year-old, as people speculated about what was wrong with her.
Accusations of troublemaking, lying, and being a freak were thrown her way. Some even demanded that she be punished, expelled from school, or sent away altogether. The weight of these judgments made the girl feel unwanted, unwelcome, and unloved.
One teacher said, "She's a menace, a danger to everyone," with a tone of disgust and fear. He shook his head, as if wanting to erase the memory of what he had seen.
Hermione's parents had heard about the incidents and were shocked and confused. The couple desperately wanted to defend their daughter, but they couldn't help feeling afraid and ashamed. Frustrated and overwhelmed, they found themselves arguing and placing blame on each other, unable to find a solution.
On this particular night, Hermione was reading a chapter about Will-o'-the-wisp, a type of supernatural fire that are believed to be mischievous spirits, fairies, or elemental creatures that inhabit the natural world. Intrigued by the concept, she couldn't help but wonder if she could manipulate flames too.
Lost in her thoughts, the girl absentmindedly waved her hand, attempting to replicate the actions of the fae described in her book. To her surprise, a small spark appeared in her palm, quickly growing into a vibrant blue flame. Panic washed over her as she struggled to control the fire, but it only intensified, consuming the room around her.
As smoke filled the air, Hermione desperately searched for a way out. She stumbled through the engulfed house, her heart pounding in her chest. The flames danced and roared, threatening to swallow her whole. Fear and confusion clouded her mind, making it difficult to think clearly.
But before she could find an exit, the smoke overwhelmed her senses, and she collapsed onto the burning floor.
"Mia! We need to get out of here!" her father urgently called out, rushing to her side. He reached out his hand, attempting to guide her towards the front door.
But Hélène suddenly appeared in their path, her eyes wide with terror. "No! The kid is possessed! We can't let her out!" the woman cried, her voice trembling with fear. She threw herself between William and Hermione, frantically trying to protect them from what she believed was a supernatural force.
"My dear, please! We don't have time for this!" William pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. He tried to gently push her aside, but Hélène's panic attack had consumed her, making her movements erratic and unpredictable.
In the midst of the chaos, Hermione's grip on her father's hand slipped, and she tumbled down the stairs, her body crashing against each step with a sickening thud. The impact knocked her unconscious, leaving her limp and vulnerable amidst the chaos.
William's heart sank as he watched his daughter fall. He knew he had to make a split-second decision. With a mix of fear and determination, he scooped Hermione into his arms and fought his way through the flames, desperately searching for an escape route.
As the fire raged around them, William's voice trembled with worry. "Mia, please wake up! We need to get out of here!" he pleaded, his words filled with both love and urgency.
But Hermione remained unconscious, her body limp and unresponsive. The flames licked at their heels, threatening to engulf them both. William's heart raced as he searched for any sign of safety, praying that they would make it out alive.
In the midst of the chaos, Hermione's fate hung in the balance. The fire continued to rage, the smoke thickening with each passing second. The sound of crackling flames filled the air, drowning out all other noise.
As William fought against the odds, his voice strained with determination. "Hold on, Hermione. We're going to make it out of here," he whispered, his words a desperate plea to the universe.
The situation was dire and unpredictable. The fire raged and grew louder, becoming more fierce every second. Hermione was passed out in her father's arms, and they had only one chance of escape: a faint light from a faraway window, hidden by the thick smoke.
When the nine-year-old finally regained consciousness, she found herself in a chilling and unfamiliar environment. The room was small and stark, with only a worn-out mattress on the floor. The walls were cracked and peeling, casting a melancholic atmosphere that weighed heavily on the air.
"Where am I? What happened?" Hermione groaned, her voice filled with confusion.
As her eyes fluttered open, a woman entered the room. It was Mrs. Cole, the matron of Wool's Orphanage. The old brick structure was situated in East End, a dismal and dirty area of London where poverty and disease were rampant. The children there had to endure cramped and filthy living conditions, with little hope of escape.
"Well, well, look who's finally awake. Took you long enough," the woman remarked coldly.
"What's going on? Where are my parents?" the girl asked, still dazed and confused.
"Your parents, dear, they tragically perished in a devastating fire that engulfed their home," Mrs. Cole replied, her voice lacking any sympathy.
Hermione felt a sudden blow to her heart, leaving her feeling hollow and utterly alone.
"No... no, that can't be true. They can't be gone," she whispered, trembling.
Attempting to shift her position, the girl winced in pain.
"Ouch! What happened to me? Why am I here?" she asked, her voice filled with both bewilderment and discomfort.
"You were injured, dear. I took care of you. No need to thank me," Mrs. Wool replied dismissively as she approached Hermione, beginning to remove the numerous bandages that covered her body.
"But... why wasn't I taken to a hospital?" she questioned, nervous.
"As an orphan with no remaining family, there was no one to claim you. No one to pay for a fancy hospital visit. You're lucky I even bothered to take you in," the matron explained, her tone lacking any sympathy.
A sense of sadness washed over the nine-year-old, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"But I have money! My parents left me their wealth. I don't understand why..." Hermione sobbed, her voice filled with desperation.
"Money means nothing without a guardian, my dear. Without one, you're destined to live in the confines of this orphanage until you are of age," Mrs. Wool responded indifferently.
"But... I don't want to be here. I want my parents back," the kid pleaded, her voice quivering with grief.
"Well, life's not fair, is it? If you want to survive in this place, you better toughen up, girl. It's a harsh world out there," the woman advised, looking dismissively at Hermione.
A mix of sadness, anger, and determination filled her eyes as she wiped away her tears. She knew she had to find a way to overcome the challenges that lay ahead.
Life at the orphanage was bleak and miserable. With the rumors of another war, everything was scarce and rationed. The food was bland and meager, the clothes were worn and patched, and the money was barely enough to pay the bills.
The other children, hardened by their own experiences, blamed Hermione for what had happened to her. They whispered behind her back, calling her a witch and casting fearful glances in her direction. The accusations stung, but the girl refused to let them define her. She knew she was different, but she also knew she was not evil.
One day, as she sat in a corner of the backyard, engrossed in a book, a group of older boys approached her. One of them, Peter Atkins, a bully with a cruel smirk, decided to take advantage of Hermione's vulnerability. He snatched the book from her hands, taunting her with it.
"Look what we have here, boys. A little bookworm who thinks she's better than us. What are you reading, huh? Some fairy tale about magic and dragons?" he sneered.
"Give it back, you brute. It's not yours." she said, trying to sound brave.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hurt your feelings? Maybe you should use your magic to get it back. Come on, show us what you can do, witch." Peter mocked, waving the book in front of her face.
The other boys laughed and joined in the teasing. Hermione felt a surge of anger and defiance. She summoned all her willpower. She focused on the flame within her, channeling her emotions into her magic. With a wave of her hand, a burst of fire shot out, scorching the boy's arm.
Atkins screamed in pain and dropped the book. The other boys gasped and backed away. The girl grabbed the book and hugged it to her chest. She looked around, expecting to see more hostility and fear. But instead, she saw everyone's eyes wide with shock. The matron rushed over, her gaze filled with both curiosity and apprehension. She grabbed Hermione by the arm and dragged her away, away from the prying eyes of the other children.
"What have you done, child? What have you done?" Mrs. Cole muttered, as they ascended a creaky staircase, reaching the top floor of the orphanage. The woman pushed open a heavy wooden door, revealing a dimly lit attic. The room was dusty and cluttered, filled with forgotten toys and broken furniture.
She shoved Hermione inside and locked the door behind her.
"You stay here until I figure out what to do with you. You're a danger to yourself and others." the matron said, her voice cold and harsh.