Rewritten Destiny

The suffocating silence of the Dursleys' house was momentarily pierced by Hermione's Unexpected call, a glimmer of hope in the oppressive atmosphere. However, this ray of light also served as a stark reminder of his entrapment, intensifying the house's suffocating grip and the weight of his injuries on his frail frame.

 

Hermione's call had been a lifeline, yet it filled him with a deep dread. She was careful with her words, likely aware that the Dursleys were always listening, always ready to punish him for any perceived misstep. How could someone his age know what would happen to him if he answered truthfully? The adults had always missed it, but Hermione didn't. That realisation twisted his stomach, suggesting she might have endured similar torment. Imagining her suffering as he did filled him with rage and shame, shame because he thought that if someone as strong as Hermione was in the same position as him, then he wasn't as pathetic as he felt.

 

Harry tried to banish the dark thoughts, but they stuck to him like a second skin. Why did it have to be him who was hit, verbally abused, made to feel like less than nothing, like a Freak! And why did Dumbledore make him come back? He had begged him to let him leave, but he had dismissed Harry's concerns like all the adults before him. The only person who had ever done anything to help was Hermione, the only one who ever saw him for what was being done to him. And yet, she wasn't even his friend, barely even friendly and yet she had jumped in to help.

 

Closing his eyes, Harry replayed their conversation in the empty classroom. Her anger, her insistence on knowing who had hurt him, her promise to make them pay—it all came rushing back to him.

 

"Harry, what happened?" Hermione's voice came from behind him, making him jump out of his skin until he realised it was her and not one of his attackers.

 

"Hermione! What are you doing here?" please just go away, he thought.

 

"I heard something and came to see. You're hurt," Hermione said, her eyes wide with alarm. "Who did this to you?"

 

Shit, he thought to himself; he looked away, unable to meet her gaze expecting to see more pity or someone call him a liar again. "Just some older Slytherins. It's nothing I can't handle." He lied.

 

He glanced back at her and was surprised to see she looked rather agitated by that comment. "Which Slytherins did this?" she growled at him. He wasn't expecting her to pry into the matter; was she even angry for him?

 

Harry sighed, not wanting to get into details. "It doesn't matter, Hermione. I can deal with it."

 

He was a little startled as he realised Hermione had stepped right into his personal space; her hands, he noticed, had turned white around her knuckles, firsts clenched as if ready to go into battle. And then he heard her in the coldest tone he'd ever heard: "Potter. I. Want. Their. Names. They need to be punished for this, they need to suffer." The last part almost hissed at him like a snake.

 

Harry shook his head in disbelief. There was no way she wanted to actually help him, and his expression hardened. "I'm used to it. It's better if I just handle things my way."

 

It was at that moment he knew he had royally fucked up; she looked like she had when she faced down the bloody Troll. "I don't give a shit if you're used to it, Potter, this is utter crap. Give me their names and I will make sure they get what they deserve." She was seething mad now. He had never heard her swear; he tensed up, a learned response to Vernon when he raised his voice. "It's not that simple, Hermione."

 

He flinched when she reached out and placed her hand on his arm. "Then make it simple. Let me help you, please."

 

It's a trick. There's no way someone actually cares, there's no reason for them to want to help me. I'm just a freak, and he was about to refuse when he hesitated. He was not sure why he did, but something in him seemed to give, like he believed she could and would really help. "Alright. But just this once. And you can't tell anyone about... these," he had said, motioning to the scars on his back.

 

He could see her face, angry features soften when he whispered that out to her, almost as if he was scared this was all but a dream, that someone who had offered to help would disappear… "I won't, I promise. But you need to know that no one should have to live like this, Harry." That was it; his learnt mask was crumbling around her; she was relentless and just knew how to get him to trust her; why did he trust her so much? He barely knew her!

 

“It's just... complicated."

 

"I understand," Hermione had said softly. "But you shouldn't have to suffer this."                                                                                                            

 

He eventually relented to her, not being able to say no to the unstoppable force that was Hermione Granger, and she had followed through. He couldn't believe it when no one in Slytherin attacked him anymore. They had even disappeared from the school for a few days. He learned then that it got done if Hermione said she would do something.

 

He had spent the following few weeks expecting someone to out him about his scars and ask how he got them, but after a few more weeks, no one had approached him, and he had finally found someone he could trust. Not a friend like he had expected, not one of his teachers, but some Slytherin who was Braver than any Gryffindor, who showed more care than any Hufflepuff he had encountered, she utterly crushed the Ravenclaws in their classes. He heard rumours she was working on her own projects, she was his age and making the 7th year students look bad!

 

He realised it was probably a little silly to be so in awe of someone his age, but she was like Merlin in the storybooks he had read in school, and now he knew Merlin existed, and he couldn't help but think Hermione was just like the story's he's read and heard. Ruthless to her enemies, Smarter than anyone else in the room, wielded magic no one had ever heard of, and willing to stand in front of monsters and beasts and not even blink. Yeah, he realised she was everything he wanted to be; she had become his hero when he froze in the great hall that day.

 

As he rolled onto his side, pulling the thin blanket tighter around him, Harry's mind wandered back to the troll incident. The memory was still vivid. Hermione had stood before that massive creature, her eyes blazing with determination. He remembered her shouting, "Everyone, get down!" and how she had stepped forward unafraid to face the beast.

 

And then she cast something, a spell. He knew she had cried out loud, but he only recalled what he saw at that point. She had fired a beam of pure light at the beast, he could feel the air around him feel heavy, the heat of the spell hitting him even standing 10 feet away. He had looked round at the other students to see they shared the same expression, utter disbelief. They didn't know what she cast.

 

He had turned to look back at Hermione and saw her Marching towards the Troll like it wasn't even a threat to her when everyone else was scared out of their minds. At this point, he realised she had become a Hero in his mind, although he was probably not the only one.

 

She had advanced, the beam of light growing brighter and more intense. He recalled the smell of its flesh burning. The Troll swung its club wildly, but she ducked and jumped back, narrowly avoiding the blow. The way she reacted, it was like she knew it was coming.

 

The Troll roared again. Hermione's spell had dropped when she dodged, and he could see she was tired and looked up at it with a bit of despair, but then her face seemed to snap; the entire time, she had looked calm and in complete control, now though, this face she held made him a little fearful of her. She was snarling at it, her face contorted into probably the most feral sight he had ever seen, even compared to Aunt Marge's 'Ripper'. Then he heard it, and he realised she wasn't angry at the Troll, but at herself, "I'M NOT STRONG ENOUGH!" she had shouted, and then the spell had changed. "SECANS LUMEN!" His brain took a second to catch up. Was she angry because she was weak? SHE THOUGHT SHE WAS WEAK?! What the hell did that make him?

 

He thought the first spell she had cast was impressive; whatever this was, it was so far beyond it that it didn't even compare. This was no longer a beam of light but of both light and dark, almost like the forces or Light and Darkness had come together to protect her, they were working together to fight this monster. When it hit the Troll, white flames sprung up and looked like they were trying to engulf the Troll.

 

Harry had seen the fear in the Troll's eyes as it roared in desperation. With one final, decisive movement, Hermione had directed the beam across the Troll's midsection, the spell had pulsed impossibly light and oppressively dark at the same time as she did so. The creature had frozen, a look of stunned disbelief on its face. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. He blinked and realised the Troll had split in half, each part crashing to the floor on either side of her.

 

She hadn't just beaten the thing but cut it in half?!  He couldn't ever be that strong, could he? And then he saw Dumbledore's face; he had no idea how she had done it. The Dumbledore didn't know something, and a 1st year did?

 

The rumours going around the school after that incident didn't help dull his Hero Worship/Crush, he thought. Everyone was calling her the next Merlin, although they made sure not to say it to her face. Even Ron, who hated Slytherin, was enamoured with her and cursing their luck that she wasn't in Gryffindor.

 

Thanks to the above, he allowed himself to believe, to believe not in the adults in his life, not in his friends, but in a Hero, Hermione Granger. She had called him, she seemed to know they were listening to him. He didn't know how she knew he didn't care either; she was involved, and he knew she'd help him, but how could he ask for help? He couldn't, not with them listening, but he heard her tone on the phone. She knew; he knew she wouldn't sit still and do nothing.

 

With these positive thoughts, he drifted off to sleep, not knowing the storm that would come the following morning.