Rewrite – Hermione Granger, the girl who lived

Summary: The title kind of drops the bomb really, just know that in this tale there is no Dark Lord. No, he isn't non-existent, let's just say there's someone else at the helm of evil this time round. There's no mystery as to who, as I think we all know who Hermione (and Molly Weasley, wink wink) hate beyond compare in book 7. I will say this though, the wizarding world have no idea about Hermione's scar (or should I say scars) that is of course until she starts Hogwarts that is, that and this Hermione is hardly happy to be stuck in a skirt if you know what I mean. FLEURMIONE – OTP – You no likey then why the heck are you reading this, it ain't worth the flaming when you can just click back, honestly. Oh by the way gonna be based more off the films than the books as the films are easier to remember at the mo, likely to mix them a little here and there though.

October 1st 1985, the atrium of the Ministry of Magic

The expansive atrium, filled with its usual stampede of ever busy witches and wizards, was for the first time since its construction days, silent. Silent except for the sounds of blood curdling screams of agony and an equally loud cackle of insane laughter. At the centre of the atrium, meters away from the giant golden statue, is where the source of the cackle stood, and the screaming lay. The area surrounding the statue had been given a wide berth by the many people nearest. At the forefront of the crowd stood none other than Albus Dumbledore, Cornelius Fudge and several reporters for the daily prophet, including the ever disdainful Rita Skeeter. However not even her crude quill was at work, as her expression matched that of everyone in the room. Every face was marred with a look of absolute terror, and with good reason.

At the centre of the empty ground were four people, or more accurately an enlarged, smoke like projection of four people. The complexity of the patronus charm had never been used for such a crude and brutal purpose. (1) The wisps provided its spectators a clear view of all four figures, much to their horror. The most prominent being the case of the cackling, an eight foot tall version of Bellatrix Lestrange stood before them, her lips spread in her signature insane smile. She stood with her arm outstretched, her wand aimed at the figure nearest her that was currently writhing in agony whilst continuing to wail, as if screaming out the entirety of his lungs would lessen the pain even a fraction. The figure was that of Martin Granger (2), a modest muggle dentist by trade and a loving husband and father by nature. His usually serene face was now twisted into the epitome of agony as the Cruciatus curse lived up to its description, the tears streaming down his face brought even more delight to the psychotic witch that held the instrument of his torture in her hand. A few feet behind the poor man sat the ensnared man's wife and daughter, tears of despair streaming down their faces, unable to look away from the sight of the most important man in their lives writhing like a deranged worm struck by lightning; their sobs inaudible over the man's wailing.

The wiry haired witch let down her wand, causing the man to cease his writhing. However his rattling breaths and twitching limbs betrayed the concept of his pain being instantaneously absent. Now that his screaming had ended, the onlookers were able to distinguish the cries of his wife Jean and their daughter Hermione, as both were immersed in lamenting sobs of "Martin" or "Daddy" over and over. This caused Bellatrix to let a soft chuckle, a most haunting sound considering what the madwoman counted as amusing. She then turned to fix her gaze onto the faces of Dumbledore and Fudge, the latter still wide eyed while the former held her gaze with a look of cold fury, his lips tensed into a thin line in repression of a sneer. Behind his back his arms were still folded together as they had been whilst conversing with the minister earlier as they walked. They had been discussing the outcome of a recent alteration Dumbledore had made regarding towards muggleborn students. The time of which any muggleborn student would be informed of the magical world had been recently lowered. Rather than drop the metaphorical bomb on them the very year their magical education began, the headmaster chose to give the families more than enough of a head start in preparation. When the child turned five years of age, both himself and his ever faithful deputy Minerva McGonagall would visit the family and explain all they needed to know, informing them at this stage would also provide a chance to explain the various occurrences of accidental magic that may have already begun. Both teachers took great joy in this new change as it mean for far less experiences of first year muggleborn that were quaking in their new robes. Now however Dumbledore had to watch as one of those very same children tremble and sob whilst being incarcerated in magical rope.

Hermione Granger had been one of the several students he had visited a year prior, and the one who had plastered a smile on his face for the rest of that day onwards. The girl eyes had been like saucers when he'd begun to explain the reason for the many strange happenings around her. She'd been relived that she wasn't some sort of freak as those at school had called her and also entranced with the prospect of learning anything and everything she could about her new world. Both Martin and Jean had also been very accepting of their daughter being a witch, as this new lease of happiness was a welcomed change to her sad demeanour recently owing to said schoolmates. They'd taken the new revelation in stride, proud and happy of their child's brilliance and never ending thirst for knowledge. It was brutal irony, thought Dumbledore, that now he had to watch that very child shed a fountain of tears as her father lay twitching before her, clad in the same grey shorts and red football shirt as she had when they'd met. Both father and daughter were avid England fans, the shirt being a much loved 5th birthday present.

Amidst the wall of silence, the now six year old Hermione had wriggled to her feet, her torso still wrapped in ropes. The girl tripped and stumbled her way to her father's side before her trembling knees gave out and she slumped forwards onto her father's chest, her heaving sobs of "Daddy, daddy" now muffled against his chest. The sight brought tears to the eyes of many, Dumbledore being an exception, his steely gaze never leaving that of Bellatrix's. Behind his back he shifted his right arm so that his wand slowly slipped out and into his eager hand, allowing him to silently begin a tracking charm on the projection in front of him. As soon as he had their location, he would apparate there quicker than a snitch could fly and stop this madness, madness that had gone on for far too long. For just over a decade the former Slytherin had slaughtered muggles left right and centre, practically since she stepped outside the boundaries of Hogwarts after her seventh year.

Her arranged betrothal to Rodolphus Lestrange had been the last peaceful event in the wizarding world. What followed was an amassing of wizards, witches and creatures of all sorts, all evil at heart, which was when the wizarding world began to understand the grief that the world wars had had on the muggles. Across the globe muggles as well as muggleborn witches and wizards were slaughtered, those who had become respected figures faced a bitter end at the hand of Bellatrix herself. Today it seemed, the deranged pureblood had deemed it necessary for a public demonstration of her 'work'.

Bellatrix briefly returned her gaze to her victims, only to sneer at the weeping child and parents before her, before turning to once again to face her audience, still paralysed to their spots. Her mud brown eyes landed on a petrified Fudge, and her face once again gave way to her eerie smile. Letting out yet another haunting chuckle, she addressed her onlookers with amusement clear in her eyes.

"You see this, Fudge? This" she thrust an arm out in the direction of the Grangers "this is how pathetic the muggle scum are. No better than blind new-born dogs. They have no place amongst our world, no right to hold a wand, no right to even set eyes on a pile of dragon dung. And yet." As she spoke the amusement and insane glee left her eyes, only to be replace with another sneer, her eyes reflecting her madness like a ticking bomb. It was evident that the timer was running close to zero. Her voice resonated through the quiet halls again, its volume growing by the second.

"And yet they're here. They parade through these halls every day, thinking themselves equal with us. The fleas flying with the phoenix, and yet many of you accept this as if it is true, YOUR MINDS TWISTED TO BELIEVE THAT FILTH SUCH AS THEM BELONG IN OUR MIDST!" Her shout caused many to jump in fright, all except Dumbledore, who kept his leer steady as he continued his silent incantation. Bellatrix's eyes had gone wide in mad excitement, her monstrous smile present once more as she soaked up the fear in the room as if it was the very element that kept her breathing. She took a few steadying breathes before once again meting eyes with Dumbledore "Well then" she let loose another ghostly chuckle before she turned to the oblivious Grangers, all three of whom were now huddled together, Martins trembling arms now encasing Jean and Hermione. "I think it's time you all saw how to teach them their place."

In the blink of an eye, Bellatrix had raised her wand. A green flash had sprung forth, and Martin Granger had used the last of his energy to encircle his wife and child before twisting, resulting in his back being completely unprotected against the curse. In that single blink, Hermione Granger had been focused on the erratic but still comforting feel of her father's heartbeat one moment, and now lay squished between her parents, eyes wide; in her panic, panic at the fact that the comforting heartbeat was now gone. Her wide eyes, their odd mixture of chocolate brown and burgundy, filled with the sheen of fresh tears as she let out a choked whisper that somehow was still heard by ministry audience "Daddy?"

TBC

A/N Phew I finally typed this up, feels so much better than just talking it out with my friend (we'll call her J for now) anyway the usual first fanfic so don't be mean rules apply, we're delicate souls we newbies (just kidding COME AT ME BRO!). Okay so the little number insertions were my little footnotes:

1: The Grangers aren't given any first names, so that areas kind of a free for all really.

2: Apparently Bellatrix in canon is unable to produce a patronus, as she had no memories happy enough to do so. To be put simply this Bellatrix can, as her happy memories consist of the various tortures and murders she's committed, she's that bonkers.

Anyway hopefully I'll have chapter 2 up soon, I've got a week off school so here's hoping for some luck. See ya next time.