Sunlight poured through her eyelids, a dull red ache that burned, urging her to rise. Hermione blinked blearily, squinting against the bright light. She sighed, pushing her auburn, bushy hair away from her face. She sat up, shoving the covers away from her body, stretching her arms as she left the bed. She automatically catalogued all the things she needed to get ready for school, running the short list through her mind. She was surprised her mum hadn't woken her yet.

As she began to gather her things, which were strewn about on her desk, it hit her. The end of school was yesterday. She needn't get up, because it was already summertime. She set her books back on the desk, her mouth pulling down into a frown. Her parents would already be at work.

They were always at work. Hermione's parents were dentists, and they were proud about their job choice. They had been featured in several highly esteemed magazines detailing their work. Hermione truly didn't mind, in fact, she hoped she would have that same dedication one day in her field of study.

Hermione could say her parents were strict. They always told her exactly what was expected of her. It was Hermione who was the disappointment. It was she who always let her parents down. Sometimes, she couldn't understand where she went wrong, but she never doubted it was she who was wrong.

Hermione used to get along with the kids in her school. She had fun playing around in the schoolyard and talking with her friends. But her parents didn't like her going out. Whenever she went to a sleepover, they always yelled at her when she got back. She knew she must have done something wrong, but she never really found out what.

It was worse when she tried a sleepover at her house. Her parents had seemed fine with it until her friends got there. Then everything went downhill. The whispers began after the incident. Her friends stop talking to her and everyone kept their distance.

No one wanted to be friends with a freak and her freak parents. Teachers from school started asking about her home life. It was then that Hermione knew her life wasn't normal. Other kids parents were not so strict, and the punishments for misbehaving not so severe. But Hermione knew she had no one to blame but herself, for she was the evil one. Her parents were only trying to protect her from herself.

They had tried numerous things to help her. Churches and priests, parenting books, solitary confinement. Nothing made the evil in her go away. Hermione could do terrible things, things no child could do in their right mind.

It started when she was quite young; they were out on a holiday trip. Her mum had tripped while holding her and suddenly they were safe and sound, sitting on a bench miles away from where they were just moments ago. If the fall had taken place, Hermione would certainly have been dead, as the stairs were very steep. It had happened in a blink of an eye.

A couple years later, her parents had chalked it up to a miracle and moved on. One day she was playing in the street and a car out of nowhere came zooming down her street. She would die without the chance to move, but the car just halted in front of her, with no explanation. There was no time for the car to stop, and there was no sound or indication the car had even begun to brake.

Her parents ran out of the house, and the man behind the wheel was dragged to jail, but her parents began to fear her.

Slowly, restrictions began to be placed upon her. Her parents got angrier and angrier each time something would happen, odd or not. They often told her how she needed to ignore her evil tendencies. Hermione tried, she tried all the time, but she couldn't control what happened around her. Nor could she explain the miracle like things surrounding her.

Hermione became a quiet child, the opposite of what she had been in her early years. If books were an enjoyment before, they were her obsession now. She never left the house unless it was strictly for school. And she was okay with that; Hermione didn't want to hurt anyone. She didn't want to be taken away; she didn't want anyone to see the bruises.

Hermione just shook her head and pushed herself away from the desk. She promptly made her bed and straightened her already tidy room. She was tired of thinking of her life, and she already had a stack of books she wanted to read.

The house was already tidy, her parents told her to clean it last night when she got home, but Hermione swept and mopped anyway. Her parents got angry when she did nothing but read all day.

And after the house was cleaned, that was all she did. This summer she decided to read up on colleges and careers. She was currently reading about underwater sea welders. It was quite a large tome, but she finished it just as she heard the car door rumbled, signaling the arrival of her parents.

Her head jerked up, she couldn't believe she spent the whole day reading! She hoped her parents didn't notice. She jumped up desperately, straightening the couch and running to her room. She put the book on the desk, thanking the lucky stars she had gotten dressed before lazing about. Her parents would be furious if they found her in pajamas.

She heard her parents come through the kitchen door, setting their briefcases on the table. They immediately began talking in low voices. Hermione's stomached roped in anxiety, knowing they only lowered their voices when talking about her. She cursed herself, knowing she must have done something wrong.

"Hermione! Come here this instant!" her mother's voice called.

Hermione did not dare drag her feet; she could tell by her mum's tone she was seriously irate. Hermione was before her parents in a flash, trying not to cower in the wake of their glares.

"Hermione," her father said in a deceptively calm voice. "Did you go outside today?"

Hermione shook her head vigorously. "N-no."

"Don't lie to us Hermione! We weren't born yesterday!" her mum burst, grabbing her arm.

"I didn't, I swear!" Hermione pleaded.

Her father only shook his head. "Where is the trash Hermione? It was overflowing this morning and now it's gone. Are you telling me that a sprite made the trash disappear?"

If Hermione could have kicked herself, she would have. She had completely forgotten she had taken out the trash! She knew if she said anything now it would only get worse so she kept quiet.

Her mother shook her shoulder angrily, making her teeth rattle. "You can't lie to us Hermione! You know the rules. You aren't allowed out of the house! We can't have your vile talents where people can see them."

"Did you leave the house?" her father asked her again.

Hermione nodded miserably. "Only to take out the trash," she whispered softly. "I forgot. I'm sorry, truly I am."

"Sorry isn't good enough, Hermione!" Her mother's hand descended faster than she could have deflected, cutting across her cheek. The pain was just as swift; she would have fallen, if not for her mother's hand holding her in place.

"You know what it means when you disobey us Hermione. Go get the strap." Her father didn't even bother looking at her. Her mother released her, and Hermione went to do as her father asked. She put a shaking hand over her right cheek, feeling the heat rising from the mark.

Tears welled up in her eyes for what she knew would come next. She didn't mean to disobey them. She returned with the strap. She tried to be strong, but tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes.

Her father looked down on her, taking the strap in his hand. "Hermione, we only do this because we love you. You have to learn to control your evil tendencies. We know it's hard, but you can't be out of this house until you have learned discipline. You understand that, don't you?"

Hermione nodded slowly. "Please don't, I said I was sorry," she whispered.

OoOoOoO

Hermione woke to a dark room. She vaguely wondered where she was. She shifted, and pain laced across her body. It raced through her, from her neck down to her feet. She let out a chocked sob, memories of the evening rushing back to her.

She couldn't move. It was already unbearable, pain so intense she couldn't describe. She lay what she recognized as her bed, though she didn't know how she had gotten there. She lay there, unable to move, and simply sobbed.

Sometime in the night or early morning, her parents got up and had begun readying for work. Hermione struggled to breathe, trying not to move, trying not to cry. Her parents hated to hear her cry. She heard footsteps come down the hall. She tensed, gasping in regret at the painful movement.

Light from the hallway brightened the dark room as her father entered. He knelt down by the bed, careful not to jiggle the bed.

"Your mother and I are going to work late today, however, we expect you to be dressed and cleaned up when we come home. I hope I don't need to remind you not to go outside."

He didn't wait for a reply. He rose and kissed her forehead, closing the door behind him.

Hermione knew they left when she heard the car door rumble. She didn't bother hiding her tears now, letting them run down her face. Her voice rose, she felt for crying out for help, for someone. Anyone, but no one would help someone as evil as her. She didn't deserve help from anyone, but her parents were still helping her. She was the evil one. She deserved it.

She fell in and out of sleep for most of the morning. She looked for the clock, but she couldn't see much lying belly down as she was now. She resolved to move, she didn't know what time it was, and she would surely need as much time as she could get to prepare.

She moved slowly, only twitching a finger at a time. Moving her arm inch by inch under her, to try and lift herself. She slid off the bed, testing her weight on her legs. She pushed herself off the bed fully, her vision going dark. She swayed, but stayed upright. Breathing easily seemed a distant prize. She dragged herself to the door, using any surface as support. Books began to litter the floor as she grabbed her desk and shelves.

She made it to the bathroom, turning on the bath as cold as she could get it. She gripped the sink, gasping and trying to get her breathing back to normal. She raised her head to the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot, her scalp a sticky mass of clotted blood and tangled hair. She sported a bruise on her cheek; it had already begun turning a purple black.

She struggled with her clothes; desperate to see how badly she was hurt for her own eyes. Her shirt was stuck to her back; she had to pry it off, pulling off freshly scabbed skin. She stopped several times to take a break; the pain was too much for her.

When it was off, she held the shirt up. The yellow shirt was suited more in the term of tie-dye now. Red and dried black dotted the back of the shirt. Hermione used the cleanest part to wipe her face the best she could, her mother hated it when she used towels to clean up after herself.

She turned as softly as she could, trying to get a view of her back. As soon as she got a glimpse she turned away, stifling a scream. She hardly had a back to see, it was…horrible.

She removed the rest of her clothes and lowered herself into the bath. She arched her back as the water hit her, finally allowing a scream to flee her lips.

The cold water both hurt her and helped her at the same time. Her inflamed skin begged for the cool water, but the sting hit her back with a fury as well.

Hermione curled up into a ball and rocked, the repetitiveness comforting her.

OoOoOo

Hermione heard her parents come into the house. She rose from the couch where she had been waiting. She was clothed in a blue dress with long sleeves and a length to her ankles. She knew her father meant her to be dressed up tonight. They had probably had a banquet where they needed her present to give a perfect family image.

Her parents didn't talk to her as they came in. They went to their room, and she could hear them talking about tonight's affair. They came out, her mother taking notice of her.

"Hermione sit down, I'll get a hairbrush and some gel."

Hermione obeyed, sitting on the edge of the sofa. Her mother knelt down in front of her, roughly turning her head to look at the mark on her face. Her mother tossed a bag of makeup on the couch, opening and spilling the contents out.

"I shouldn't have to waste these expensive products on you, but your misbehavior calls for desperate measures don't they? I don't know where you get your looks from, because it certainly wasn't from your father and I. I guess they weren't kidding when they say evil takes an ugly face. Turn your head." Her mother began applying makeup on her face.

Hermione tried not to wince as her mother poked and prodded her bruise. "I'm sorry, mum," she cringed.

"Listen to me, Hermione." She turned her head to face Hermione. She looked very stern. "This Banquet is very important to your father and me. You just need to stand there and be silent, do you understand? No funny business."

"Yes, ma'am." Hermione dutifully responded. Hermione was secretly relieved; maybe she could find a secluded spot and get back to reading. Maybe no one would notice her at all.

"Good, now don't disappoint me." She released her chin roughly, gathering up her makeup materials and attacking her hair. Hermione held in tears as her mother tugged through her hair.

A knock sounded from the door, shocking both Hermione and her mother.

"Dear, can you get that? I'm trying to tackle our daughter's hair here," her mother called out to her father.

Her dad moved quickly, straitening his tie as he moved from the bedroom. He opened the door promptly. Hermione craned her neck to get a better look at whoever was at the door. Her mother moved in front of her view as she went to greet whoever was at the door.

"Hello," a prompt voice spoke. "Are you Mrs. And Mr. Granger?" the unfamiliar voice asked.

"We are, how can we help you?"

"I have come to talk about your daughter, Miss Hermione Granger. She has been accepted into a prodigious school. An opportunity that should not be passed up."

"I'm sorry, but we are not really interested in schools at the moment, my wife and I have someplace to be tonight." Hermione's father said politely.

"This will be worth your while, Mr. Granger. I assure you, this is no scam. May I come in? I am sure this will take no time at all."

Hermione's mouth dropped as the woman walked in. Her parent, her parents… had let someone inside the house? The woman held herself in a very peculiar manner. A dignified air hovered over her. She was dressed rather sharply, in a skirt and heels. She was old enough to be her grandmother, but she got the unique feeling of timelessness.

"Right, my name is Professor McGonagall. I teach at the school your daughter has been accepted to."

"Wait, wait, wait. Accepted into? We haven't submitted any applications to any schools," Mr. Granger pointed out.

"Students with certain qualifications are submitted immediately. Your daughter is one of these scholarship students." Professor McGonagall removed what looked like a stick from her robes. "Your daughter, quite simply put, is a witch. You might have noticed some odd things happening around her. Accidental magic. Perhaps a life or death situation was changed and seen as a miracle?"

"Hogwarts, the school your daughter has been accepted to, is a school that teaches young witches and wizards how to use their talents in a responsible, productive way." Professor McGonagall paused, taking in the shocked looks of her parents.

McGonagall simply nodded, twirling her wand in the air, blue sparks shooting out of the tip. She pointed her stick at the coffee table, levitating several magazines around the room.

Hermione looked in awe at the woman in front of her. McGonagall gave her a small smile. She blushed and looked away, catching the look on her mother's face. It was slowly turning red.

"How the HELL did you do that?" her mother screeched, catching Professor McGonagall by surprise. McGonagall turned to her, knowing every parent had a different reaction. She proceeded to talk to them.

Hermione's head was running a mile a minute with all the information running through her head. A witch? Like the witch hunting she had learned about in school? Or like a coven of withes from T.V? What would her parents think?"

Hermione didn't hear the argument get started, or the heated yelling that had been going on for five minutes. She only felt the hand grabbing her by the scruff, pulling her off the couch and shoving her at the lady in their house. She could now hear both her parents yelling.

"You want the little freak? You can have her! Little devil spawn can be your problem now! I don't care! Not looking so eager now, are you? Well I am not taking her back. Her mum and I have been dealing with her shit ever since she was young. So take her and go! Pack and go! Don't be here when we get back! Let's go dear!" Mr. Granger grabbed his coat and his wife and stormed out, shouting curses until he was too far away for her to hear.

In a seemly impossible event, her parents stormed out and drove off, leaving her alone with the lady.

The Professor looked downright livid to Hermione. She slowly tried to edge away from the woman. A hand landed on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. Hermione flinched, expecting something far worse.

McGonagall led her to her room. "What do you wish to take with you, Hermione?" she asked firmly. Hermione numbly gathered her clothes and books. She piled her belongings on her bed. She was done rather quickly; her parents hadn't allowed her much.

McGonagall didn't bat an eyelash and the pitfall pile of things on the bed. She simply waved her wand and the things disappeared.

"Come along now, child." Hermione followed obediently, sneaking glances at the woman. Glances that McGonagall noticed, but didn't comment on. They left through the front door, not bothering to lock it behind them.

McGonagall reached for her arms, and Hermione, not expecting it, gasped and twitched in surprise.

"I am about to preform something called sidelong apparition. It will be slightly uncomfortable but think of it as instant teleportation, of a sort. Alright, Miss Granger?"

Hermione simply nodded, not knowing what to even think after all of this, it seemed her mind was numb, not allowing her any thoughts.

And suddenly it was dark, she felt as if he was being pushed through a tube five times too small. She felt compressed, and she tried to scream, but no noise came out, didn't seem possible. With a loud pop, she could breathe again. She fell to her hands and knees, no hand supporting her.

She dry heaved, her stomach convulsing. A soothing hand touched her back. Not thinking, she shrank from the hand, whimpering in fear. Her back had flared in pain; landing in such a way had jarred her.

She quickly remembered where she was, forcing herself to take deep breaths. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Give me but a moment."

The hand retreated, leaving her in peace for a couple moments. Hermione looked up; it was obvious they weren't on her street anymore. They were in a back alley of some sort, and she could hear the noises of a busy street.

She stood, wobbling on her feet. She saw the professor offer a hand and she took it, knowing she was barely standing upright as it was.

"I am sorry you had such a violent reaction. First times are usually the worst, but it was the most convenient way to get anywhere quickly unless you want to be tossed about by that terrible Knight Bus."

"Come along, we are almost there." Hermione let herself be led, taking in the sights around her. She rarely left the house, and this was unlike any place she had ever seen. All around her were oddly dressed people, in a wide array of colors. She was so busy looking at the people; she almost hadn't noticed the shops that were just about as odd as the people. Oddly shape stores advertising cauldrons and sphinxes.

McGonagall led them to a rather ordinary looking building. They went up the steps and through the door. The moment they passed through the door, the noise and sights of the street stopped.

McGonagall wasted no time, ushering her to the front desk. There was a woman behind the counter, busy trying to catch a key with wings. Hermione blinked her eyes at the sight, not sure she could trust her eyes after all of this.

"Excuse me, I need a room immediately."

The woman turned, clutching the captured key in her hand. "Fantastic. Room service is provided. We serve a late dinner in an hour. Adjoining bathroom?" The bubbly woman asked.

McGonagall nodded, pushing a card toward the woman. "Take it out of the Hogwarts fund, thank you."

The woman quickly scanned the card, and handed her the key, a rope now hanging from it. "Room 19C. Great view of Diagon Alley. Have a good day!"

Hermione didn't need to be told to follow the retreating figure. They came across the room immediately, and upon entering, Hermione gasped. The room was probably bigger than her whole house combined! The bed was huge, with big, fluffy pillows and giant feather comforter. On a chair next to the bed were her belongings from the house. The giant window to the right of her called to her. She took careful steps towards it, taking in the busy street and the sights. She could look at it for hours; she could already feel it.

She felt the Professor's presence behind her. Hermione turned slowly. McGonagall looked at with a frown apparent on her face. McGonagall raised her hand, rubbing her fingers together, contemplating in surprise and the red liquids appearance. Hermione looked at them in surprise as well, seeing the faint red smudges on her fingers. Hermione's face turned red in embarrassment. Whatever "apparating" was, it had broken the seal of scabs on her back, bleeding through her dress, if her blood somehow ended up on McGonagall's hand.

The blood rushing to her face made her feel weak, and her legs trembled. Before she could stop herself, she went sailing to the floor, darkness swallowing her into a blissful sleep. Her last memory was seeing McGonagall stepping forward to catch her.