Rewritten Destiny

The Halloween feast was in full swing, the Great Hall filled with laughter and the clinking of goblets. Hermione Granger sat with her fellow Slytherins, her mind only half on the conversation. She was deep in thought, reflecting on her studies and her latest breakthroughs in spellwork.

 

Suddenly, the doors to the Great Hall burst open, and Professor Quirrell staggered in, his face pale with terror. "Troll—in the dungeons—thought you ought to know," he gasped before collapsing to the floor.

 

Panic erupted immediately. Students screamed and stood up, looking around in confusion and fear. The professors sprang into action, Dumbledore’s voice booming over the chaos. "Prefects, lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

 

As the Slytherins began to rise, Hermione grabbed the sleeve of a nearby prefect, a tall, composed seventh year named Adrian Pucey. "Adrian, wait," she said urgently. "Tell them the troll is in the dungeons where Slytherin and Hufflepuff dormitories are located. They need to know."

 

Adrian looked at her, wide-eyed. "Are you sure?"

 

"Yes," Hermione insisted, her eyes blazing with determination. "We need to keep everyone safe."

 

Adrian hesitated only a moment before turning to face the Great Hall. "Everyone, listen!" he shouted, his voice carrying over the din. "The troll is in the dungeons! The Slytherin and Hufflepuff dormitories are down there! We can’t go back!"

 

The hall fell into a stunned silence as the students processed this information. Dumbledore’s eyes flickered with concern, but he quickly composed himself. "Very well. All students, stay inside the Great Hall, we’ll seal the door whilst we deal with the Troll."

 

Minutes ticked by, the tension in the Great Hall palpable. Prefects walked up and down between the tables, trying to keep their houses calm.

 

Suddenly, a deep, resonant thud echoed from the direction of the entrance hall. The students fell silent, eyes wide with fear. Another thud, louder this time, reverberated through the hall, followed by the unmistakable sound of splintering wood.

 

An oppressive feeling built up in the air around them, the surged towards to door, pushing to hold the door in place as the door repaired itself from the onslaught which pounded away at the door. Some old failsafe from when the castle was more than a school, Hermione mused.

 

The Great Hall doors shuddered under a tremendous blow. Hermione’s heart leapt into her throat. The troll had found its way to them, and the professors were nowhere in sight. Her wand leapt to her hand, responding to her need.

 

The doors burst open with a final, deafening crash, and the troll lumbered into the Great Hall. It was enormous, easily twelve feet tall, with grey skin like toughened leather and a stench that made the students gag. The troll’s tiny eyes glinted as it surveyed the terrified students.

 

Pandemonium erupted. Students screamed and tried to flee, but the prefects, realizing the danger of a stampede, fought to maintain order. The troll swung its massive club, sending a table flying into the air, food and dishes scattering across the floor, along with one of the younger students who wasn’t quick enough to get away.

 

Hermione’s mind saw everything slow down. This was her fault, she had thought that keeping everyone here was the safest option and now look, someone was hurt possibly dead, a memory flashed before her eyes, a bloodied body, she saw red.

 

“Everyone, get down!” she shouted, raising her wand as it gave off sparks. The students closest to her ducked instinctively, and she stepped forward, her eyes locked on the troll.

 

“Secans lux!” she cried, focusing her rage into the spell.

 

A beam of pure, concentrated light shot from the tip of her wand, striking the troll square in the chest. The creature bellowed in pain and surprise, stumbling backward. The light cut through its thick hide, leaving a smouldering wound.

 

Hermione didn’t let up. She advanced, the beam of light growing brighter and more intense. The troll swung its club wildly, but she ducked and jumped back, narrowly avoiding the blow. She could see the confusion and fear in its eyes now.

 

The troll roared again, this time in desperation. Hermione despaired, she wasn’t strong enough, all this knowledge, all this practice and someone was going to die because ‘I’M NOT STRONG ENOUGH’ she snapped she hadn’t practiced this spell just the theory “SECANS LUMEN” this time, the beam was no longer pure light, shadows flickered across it as if it was fire, where it hit the Troll, it left white flames and burns in it’s path, she aimed higher and damaged it’s arm wielding the club.

 

“Keep it up!” someone shouted from behind her, but she didn’t hear them, she had tunnel visioned onto the Troll.

 

With one final, decisive movement, Hermione directed the beam across the troll’s midsection and desperately threw the last of her Magic into the spell. The creature froze, a look of stunned disbelief on its grotesque face. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Then, with a sickening lurch, the troll split in half, each part crashing to the floor on either side of her.

 

Silence fell over the Great Hall, broken only by the ragged breathing of the students and the crackling of the dissipating spell. Hermione stood in the centre of the carnage, her wand still glowing faintly. She felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her, but she forced herself to stay upright, the smell of burnt flesh didn’t help.

 

The first to move was Draco, who yelled “You did it,”, his voice filled with awe. “You actually did it!”

 

Hermione nodded numbly; her eyes still fixed on the remains of the troll. She had done it. She had saved them. She knew the spell would be dangerous, but knowing and seeing are 2 very different things and she felt sick to her stomach at what lay before her, by her hand.

 

The doors burst open again, and the professors rushed in, wands drawn. They froze at the sight before them: the shattered troll, the overturned tables, and Hermione standing in the midst of it all.

 

Dumbledore stepped forward, his face a mask of astonishment and concern. “Miss Granger, what happened here?” he asked, his voice unusually gentle.

 

Hermione took a minute to register someone had asked her a question, she turned to look at the Professors, clearly in shock “The troll attacked the Great Hall,” she said. “I think it killed a student before I could stop it” she choked out.

 

Professor McGonagall’s face was pale as she looked around at the shaken students. “Show me who’s hurt” she demanded, her voice trembling.

 

A few students stepped forward, nursing cuts and bruises, one Hufflepuff 2^nd year who was thrown with the table needed to go to see Nurse Pomfrey, she was alive at least. Calming draughts were being handed out to all the students.

 

Dumbledore’s eyes met hers, and she saw a flicker of something—concern? Gratitude? She couldn’t be sure. “Miss Granger, your quick thinking and bravery have saved many lives tonight. We are in your debt.”

 

Hermione downing her calming draught and smiled meekly at the headmaster.

 

The professors moved to assist the injured and restore order, but Hermione’s mind was still racing. The troll had almost killed them, and the professors had been nowhere in sight. If they had followed Dumbledore’s original instructions, if she hadn’t spoken up…

 

She shuddered, unwilling to complete the thought. This incident had revealed a deeper truth, one she couldn’t ignore. They couldn’t blindly trust the adults to keep them safe. They had to be prepared to take matters into their own hands and even trying to change events didn’t mean they’d provide better outcomes.

 

As the students slowly began to calm down and the prefects started organizing them for a move to the safer upper floors, Hermione caught sight of Harry Potter across the hall. He was watching her, his expression unreadable. She turned away, not interested in getting dragged into his fate, he was a trouble magnet, although hadn’t she been the one in the middle of everything this time?

 

But there was no time to dwell on it. The prefects and the professors worked together to guide the students to temporary sleeping arrangements in the upper floors. The tension in the air was palpable, the earlier panic replaced by a heavy, oppressive silence.

 

Draco Malfoy, for once, didn’t have a smug comment or a sneer. Instead, he walked beside Hermione as they followed the rest of the Slytherins. “You were amazing, Hermione,” he said quietly. “I’ve never seen magic like that.”

 

Hermione nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and the last thing she wanted was to discuss her magic with anyone, least of all Draco Malfoy. She knew that her prowess would raise questions, and the last thing she needed was unwanted attention.

 

As they reached the upper floors, Professor McGonagall approached her, her expression a mixture of sternness and concern. “Miss Granger, a word, please.”

 

Hermione followed McGonagall to a quieter corner of the hallway. The professor’s gaze was intense, and Hermione steeled herself for the conversation to come.

 

“You demonstrated remarkable skill and bravery tonight,” McGonagall began. “But I must ask—where did you learn to perform such a spell?”

 

Hermione met her gaze evenly. “It’s family magic, Professor.” She would be adding this her Grimoire once she made one.

 

McGonagall’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Family magic, you say? That’s quite unusual. Most students don’t come to Hogwarts with such advanced knowledge.”

 

Hermione’s expression didn’t waver. “I’m not most students then. How is the girl who was hit, is she all right?” her voice waivered at the end.

 

McGonagall sighed, her expression looking haggard. “She’s stable for now, Madam Pomfrey is working on her as we speak. I have to say, I was surprised when Professor Snape mentioned about your background, I didn’t know you had your family Grimoire”

 

“I imagine it was a surprise for me too, it’s from my father’s side of the family after all, and he doesn’t speak to the rest of them” Hermione replied.

 

McGonagall nodded, her stern facade cracking slightly. “Very well. The headmaster will discuss this further in the morning. For now, you should get some rest. You’ve had a trying night.”

 

Hermione nodded and made her way to the makeshift sleeping area. She lay down on a conjured cot, but sleep did not come easily. Her mind was still buzzing with the events of the night, and the weight of what had happened pressed heavily on her chest.

 

The next morning, the atmosphere at breakfast was tense. The events of the previous night were the only topic of conversation, and Hermione could feel the eyes of her classmates on her as she entered the Great Hall. She ignored them, taking a seat at the Slytherin table and focusing on her food.

 

She didn’t have to wait long before Professor Dumbledore approached her. “Miss Granger, I would like to speak with you in my office,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

 

Hermione followed Dumbledore through the winding corridors, her mind racing. She had a feeling this conversation would be different from her brief exchange with McGonagall. When they arrived at his office, Dumbledore gestured for her to sit.

 

“Miss Granger, would you care for a lemon drop?” He asked as he moved to his chair

 

Hermione avoided his eyes, not wanting to test her Occlumency skills so early “No thank you, my parents are Dentists.”

 

Dumbledore studied her for a moment “Yes, I had thought you were muggleborn, however Professor Snape and McGonagall tell me you’re a Half blood of Dagworth-Granger?”

 

Hermione considered her options, she didn’t see any way out, but she could bend the truth a little “Yes, my grandfather was a Squib”

 

“Miss Granger,” he began, his voice measured and calm, “last night you demonstrated a level of magic that is unusual for a student of your age. The Secans lux spell you used is a remarkable piece of magic. You mentioned it was family magic?”

 

Hermione met his gaze, her expression neutral. “Yes, Professor. Is there a problem with this?”

 

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled, but there was an edge to his gaze that made Hermione uneasy. “Family Magic being used publicly is rare, Miss Granger. But I must caution you—powerful magic can be dangerous, especially when practiced without guidance. Your actions last night were courageous but concerning that you could take a life so easily.”

 

Hermione’s jaw tightened. “I did what I had to do to protect my classmates. The professors weren’t there, and the troll would have killed us if I hadn’t acted.”

 

Dumbledore’s expression didn’t change, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanour. “I see. Nonetheless, the second spell you used though; the prefects tell me is white fire? I must caution you on the use of such spells, although under the circumstances, such magic can be dangerous and warp even the most noble of minds.”

 

Hermione nodded, but she didn’t fully agree but could understand the sentiment.

 

“Very well,” Dumbledore said finally. “You may return to your dormitory. But remember, Miss Granger—some magic is better left alone.”

 

As Hermione left Dumbledore’s office, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching her more closely now, scrutinizing her every move.

 

Over the next few weeks, the atmosphere at Hogwarts gradually returned to normal, though the memory of the troll attack lingered. Students were more cautious, and the professors had increased security.

 

She spent long hours in the library, poring over texts and obscure spell books. She practiced tirelessly, perfecting her techniques and experimenting with new spells, She skipped some of her sleep, she needed more time in her schedule.

 

Draco and a few others occasionally tried to pry into her activities, but Hermione remained tight-lipped. She didn’t trust anyone enough to reveal the extent of her abilities. The troll incident had already given away too many of her tricks, she’d fashioned a laser with her knowledge of physics and the hints Professor Flitwick and then add fire to the mix.

 

Days turned into weeks, and the students of Hogwarts slowly adjusted to the new reality of increased security and vigilance. Hermione continued her studies in secret, her determination unwavering. She spent every free moment in the library, refining her spells and pushing the limits of her magical abilities.

 

One evening, as she was reading a particularly dense tome on advanced charm theory, she felt a presence beside her. She looked up to see Professor Snape, his dark eyes studying her intently.

 

“Miss Granger,” he said, his voice smooth and dangerous. “You’ve been spending a lot of time in the library lately. May I ask what you’re working on?”

 

Hermione met his gaze without flinching. “Charm work, Professor. I find the subject fascinating.”

 

Snape’s lips curled into a faint, humourless smile. “Indeed. I heard about your... impressive performance during the troll incident. It would be difficult to find someone who had not heard about it.”

 

Hermione’s grip tightened on her book. “Yes, the attention it has drawn has been a hinderance.”

 

Snape leaned closer; his eyes boring into hers. “Be careful, Miss Granger. Ambition and talent can be a dangerous combination. Many a promising young witch and wizard has been led astray by their own abilities or with the pursuit of Fame.”

 

Hermione’s heart pounded in her chest, but she kept her expression neutral. “I understand, Professor.”

 

Snape straightened; his expression inscrutable. “See that you don’t. I must confess, some of your dormmates have expressed concerns you’re not sleeping well since the attack, would you like me to source some Sleeping Draughts?”

 

“No thank you sir, I am fine” she said as she resumed reading her book

 

As Snape walked away, Hermione felt a chill run down her spine. She knew he was right, but she couldn’t afford to slow down. The events of the past weeks had shown her that she needed to be prepared for anything.

 

The weeks turned into months, and the school year continued with its usual mix of classes, Quidditch matches, and House rivalries. But beneath the surface, a tension simmered. Hermione could feel it in the way people looked at her, in the whispers that followed her through the corridors.

 

One afternoon, as she was leaving the library, she was approached by Draco Malfoy and his usual entourage of Crabbe and Goyle. Draco’s expression was curious, almost wary.

 

“Hermione,” he began, his voice unusually soft. “You’ve been keeping to yourself a lot lately. What’s going on?”

 

Hermione paused, considering her words carefully. “I’ve been focusing on my studies, Draco. That’s all.”

 

Draco frowned, his eyes searching hers. “You’re not just studying, though, are you? You’re doing something else. Something... more.”

 

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “What are you implying?”

 

Draco hesitated, then lowered his voice. “Look, I don’t know what you’re up to, my mother wrote to me, asking me to look out for you, my mother wouldn’t ask unless it was important. And since the troll incident you’ve been really quiet, you’re not even helping people anymore, it’s like you’ve become obsessed.”

 

Hermione’s heart skipped a beat. “Thank you, Draco, and pass my thanks onto your mother as well, but I can take care of myself.”

 

Draco nodded slowly; his expression conflicted. “Just... don’t shut everyone out, okay? You’re… well, you’d be missed.”

 

Hermione watched as he walked away, was she being too isolated? Is this what had brought the scrutiny of Dumbledore her way?

 

As she made her way back to the Slytherin common room, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. She glanced over her shoulder, but the corridor was empty. She quickened her pace, her wand hand twitching with unease.

 

Back in the common room, she found a quiet corner and pulled out her notes. She had been working on a new spell, one that combined elements of Charm work and Runes. It was complex, but if she could master it, it would be a powerful addition to her arsenal.

 

She was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t notice the figure approaching until they spoke. “Hermione, what are you doing?”

 

She looked up to see Blaise Zabini, his expression curious. “Just studying,” she replied, her tone dismissive.

 

Blaise raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been studying a lot lately. More than usual.”

 

Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “Is there a point to this, Blaise?” letting her frustration with the many people who seemed it was their right to intrude in her life slip her control for a second.

 

He shrugged, leaning against the wall. “Just concerned, that’s all. You’re one of the brightest witches in our year, but you’re pushing yourself too hard.”

 

Hermione’s heart ached with a mixture of frustration and gratitude. She knew he was trying to help, but she couldn’t afford to let anyone get too close. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. Really.”

 

Blaise studied her for a moment longer, then nodded. “Alright. Just remember, we’re here if you need us.”

 

As he walked away, Hermione felt a pang of loneliness. She had pushed so many people away, isolated herself in her quest for power. Was it all worth it?