Chapter One

Three wizards killed... Premeditated murder... Witch tortured in own home... Muggle-born is suspected... Revenge being sought... All corners of England... Aurors... Helpless...

Hermione sifted through the pages of the Daily Prophet, her dirt brown eyes grazing the words that were in nearly every article. The moving photos beside them showing Aurors in bloodied houses, the Minister of Magic, Kingsly Shacklebolt, shaking his head in bewilderment and sadness.

In the mornings, before she turned to her cases, she read the wizarding paper over her coffee. It sounded like the perfect way to start the day; it was mundanely normal, which was exactly why she enjoyed it so. Since she was eleven and was told she was a witch, she needed normalcy. Not that it ever happened to be a favored term of hers, but she had lived an abnormal life even being a witch.

Voldemort was defeated, the war was over, but horrific events continued to rage on as though it never ended. There were loved ones looking to avenge their loved one's deaths. In general societies head was the idea that a war would have never taken place if it were not for the purebloods. They were to blame for everything.

Hermione spent her school career determined to prove that girls and muggle-borns were just as good as any pureblood wizard. She felt she had fully accomplished that, and she was proud. All she wanted and all she worked for was justice and peace. They won the war, but it meant very little if people were still suffering.

She flipped to the front page where Harry's picture was smiling professionally at her. She read the announcement, though she didn't have to. He told her himself a week ago that he was to speak out in a ministry meeting about the hatred their world was carrying. Actually, he told her that he was going to take her advice and call a meeting to surmise if a larger attendance was needed to get their point of harmony across.

She rolled up the paper and placed it in the trash where she wouldn't have to look at it. It was haunting her, leering at her. Reminding her that she wasn't doing a good enough job.

In her pocket, her mobile vibrated and read the screen.

Luna was the only fellow friend of hers that used the muggle device. After the war, Hermione insisted that each of them buy one. It was supposed to be for emergency; a quick way to contact each other privately (owls were slower and patronus ' were much more perceptible ). Luna helped with the teaching, as she learned how to utilize it from her mother's diagrams (the spell that had gone horribly wrong). However, the mobiles didn't remain just for emergency, as Ron used his constantly, thinking it was "bloody wicked."

She flipped the mobile open and pressed it to her ear. "Hello, Luna."

"Hello, Hermione. A lovely day, is it not?"

It was pouring rain outside, but she didn't question Luna, who had been known as Looney Lovegood in school for good reason. "Yes, it is. Is everyone alright? It's pretty early."

"Tomorrow is May 3rd."

Instantly she recalled the engagement. "I remember, I'll be there."

"Oh good. I hope everyone can come."

"I do too. Harry, Ron, Ginny and George are coming."

"Hm, I was hoping for more of a turnout. That's okay, though. If that's all there will be, then it will be comfortable."

"It will. I'll see you then."

"Good day, Hermione."

A second after Luna hung up, there was a text flashing on her screen.

They are doing okay. They miss you.

Her heart ache, a small consisting ache since she said goodbye to them. She wiped a stray tear away and clicked her mobile closed, her attention focusing on the Daily Prophet once more. It would be advisable for the group to gather together and celebrate the good. Maybe Hermione could forget the bad.

She brought her wallet in front of her, sliding out a precious picture that never failed to bring her hope. She touched the edges and thought of the last time she saw the people in the photo. It had been too long and every second was a horrible wait. She wished she was there or they were with her. She would have to call them that night, to hear about their day and tell them vaguely about hers.

In the meantime, she had plenty of work to occupy her mind. Her caseload had become much thicker since she had righted the laws for magical creatures. Humans had their own problems, and she was determined to give them a fair helping hand as well. Someone had to do it.