Chapter 1
Outside, the storm raged, dark clouds enveloping everything. Hermione stood by the window, her tired eyes watching people rush to avoid the rain outside. Her lifeless face showed that this summer vacation had not been pleasant. She had told her parents about the things happening in the magical world, about the dangers posed by Voldemort. His return in the future and the deaths he had caused. Her parents had strongly opposed Hermione's decision to return to school. The three of them had argued many times, but in the end, there was only silence. They believed she was wasting her time going back to that dangerous school. With her intelligence, Hermione could easily get into a top university. But perhaps before, she would have argued because Hogwarts was the place that suited her. There, she had friends, teachers, and magic. But now, the reason she returned was no longer just that. Everything was gradually changing—the magical world, her friends, power, and even herself. Hermione was slowly changing, from her actions to her thoughts. Sometimes, she didn’t know if Hogwarts was the right place for her anymore. The school she had always dreamed of now only existed as a pile of ashes in her mind. She didn’t know when she would forget it.
She closed the window, taking a deep breath. Slowly, she walked to her small desk, where pictures of Harry, Ron, and herself were carefully kept. She picked up one of the photos and gently ran her fingers over Harry's smiling face. Her head spun, and her eyes darkened.
Splash.
A drop of blood fell, staining the floor, leaving a blotch. When she opened her eyes, the picture was shattered on the floor. Looking at her hand, which was bleeding, she felt no pain. Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced her chest, and she placed her hand over it. She stood there, frozen, as blood continued to drip down her arm.
In the silence, footsteps hurried up the stairs. The door to her room flew open, and her mother stared at her with wide eyes. Her face went pale when she saw the blood on Hermione's hand and the broken glass on the floor. Hermione’s face remained expressionless, while her mother’s grew even paler. She rushed to Hermione, disregarding the risk of stepping on the shards.
“Hermione! Are you okay? What happened, my dear? How did you hurt yourself?” Her mother grabbed her hand, examining it carefully.
“Mother…”
Her mother gave her a stern but worried look. Seeing how calm Hermione was, she sighed.
“Don’t do anything. I’ll go get the first aid kit.”
Before Hermione could say anything, her mother rushed out of the room. Hermione looked up at the place where her mother had been, then at the distorted photo on the floor. She bent down, carefully picking up the bloodstained picture and slipping it into her jeans pocket.
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“Next time, be more careful, Hermione. You’re almost 17, why do you keep making me worry like this?”
Hermione stayed silent as her mother scolded her. Her father brought two mugs of hot cocoa and sat beside her.
“To me, you’re still just a little girl, my dear.”
Her mother shot her father an angry look.
“If it weren’t for you agreeing to let her attend that strange school, I wouldn’t have to worry like this!” Her mother yelled. “I would never have agreed if she hadn’t begged me day and night.”
“She’s a witch, dear. We can’t stop her from returning to where she belongs,” her father said gently.
“But Hermione is my daughter! I can’t let her go to such a dangerous place!” Her mother said, choking back tears.
“I know. She’s my daughter too. But she has friends there. This place is no longer right for Hermione,” her father said, gently embracing her mother, who had tears in her eyes.
Hermione wanted to say something but was afraid. Afraid that saying it would make her mother even sadder. Her lips trembled as she hesitated, finally speaking.
“Mother, Father, I’m going back to school the day after tomorrow.”
Both of her parents turned to look at her when they heard this. Her mother’s face was filled with worry and sadness. She rested her head on her husband's shoulder. Hermione stayed silent, not saying another word.
“Are you sure, my dear? This time, it will be very dangerous,” her father finally broke the silence.
“I’m sure, Father.”
Her mother immediately stood up and hugged her tightly, as if this would be the last time she would see her. The pat on her head or the gentle rubbing on her back was nothing new, but Hermione could feel her mother’s hands trembling. This hug reminded her of when she was little, the first time she went to Platform 9¾. Her mother had hugged her just like this, but back then, she had smiled brightly and felt happy. Now, Hermione didn’t know how she felt. Happy? Sad? Indifferent? She didn’t know.
“Please, don’t let anything happen. You’re my whole life. If something happens to you, I don’t know how I’ll live,” her mother whispered, holding her tighter. “Hermione, my precious daughter. I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Mother.”
I’m sorry, Mother, Father, Hermione thought to herself. A sharp pain twisted in her heart. She knew no parent would dare take the risk of letting their child continue studying at a school so far away, especially when a dangerous man was about to return. Their worry would only grow. But she had to go back. She had to.
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The Hogwarts Express sped through the pouring rain, the raindrops hitting the windows, making everything outside look bleak. Inside the train, the atmosphere was tense, like a balloon that could burst at any moment. The familiar laughter and chatter had disappeared. Instead, there was only a suffocating tension. Harry looked at his two friends after several months apart. Ron was still eating voraciously since getting on the train, while Hermione was reading a book as usual. Although they both seemed normal, Harry couldn’t help but notice something unusual. Her eyes were no longer bright and full of life. In those brown eyes, only indifference and coldness remained. Harry didn’t know when, but those eyes had lost their purity. Maybe it was because he hadn’t noticed, or perhaps it was the hardships and dangers that had caused her to become this way. He felt a twinge of guilt, even though he knew why.
Harry turned his gaze away from her and sat up straighter, trying to stay calm. He placed his hands in front of him, looking at Ron and Hermione.
“I think Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater,” Ron said, looking up from his food, his face full of worry as he glanced at Harry. Hermione didn’t react at all, her eyes still glued to her book. But in her eyes, there was a subtle change. Different thoughts were starting to appear in her mind.
“Harry, why do you think Malfoy is a Death Eater?” Ron asked, staring at Harry with a puzzled expression.
“I saw him in Knockturn Alley. That’s not a place you go to just buy things,” Harry said, his eyes lighting up. “His father, Lucius Malfoy, was a Death Eater, so it’s impossible that Draco isn’t one!”
Only then did Hermione show some reaction to Harry’s words. She carefully closed her book, her actions calm and untroubled. It was a stark contrast to Ron’s reaction.
“He’s only 16, Harry. Voldemort wouldn’t let a kid that young do something important.”
Harry’s blue eyes widened at her words, his voice growing urgent. “What are you talking about, Hermione? Regulus Black was a Death Eater at 16! Voldemort doesn’t care how old someone is. He just wants to use idiots for his own purpose of domination!”
Ron shifted in his seat, and Hermione noticed the tension in his posture. “’Mione, I think Harry’s right this time. You may know a lot, but this time it’s different.” Ron’s voice became sharper. “My dad said there are many young followers in Voldemort’s ranks. They’re stupid and greedy from pure-blood families. Malfoy probably isn’t any different.”
She didn’t respond immediately. Calmly, she looked at her two friends, who were lost in their worry and anger. She sighed tiredly.
“Harry, Ron,” she said slowly, “I know you’re worried, but we can’t just jump to conclusions based on what you’ve seen. We need evidence.”
“Evidence? Not everything is like it is in books. This isn’t a Muggle detective story; this is a war! And Malfoy’s a cunning one, he’ll do anything for power. No one in the Malfoy family is good, and you know that better than anyone, ‘Mione.” Ron’s face was red with anger, and his gaze seemed to want to devour Hermione. “You know what Draco Malfoy is like. Don’t you remember when he called you ‘Mudblood’? What about when he insulted you? Have you forgotten all that? Where’s the smart Hermione now? Why are you so stupid all of a sudden?”
Harry knew Ron had gone too far this time. Ron realized his mistake as soon as he said it. He stood still, waiting for Hermione’s reaction. But all he received was a cold, judging look from her. There was no shouting, no physical punishment, no curse. Hermione just sat there in silence. Yet, Ron still felt the pressure bearing down on him. He knew he was in the wrong, that he couldn’t match her.
“Stupid?”
“Hermione…”
She gave a dry smile, uninterested in arguing with him “So, what do you want me to understand?”
"You have to trust me. Malfoy is hiding something terrible, we need to act before it’s too late. If we don’t stop him..."
"Then what? I’ve trusted you so many times, and I still trust you. It’s just that this time, we can’t let your haste affect everything."
Hermione felt a rising disgust in her chest. She silently stared out the window, where the rain was pouring down. The feeling of being ignored irritated her. Only when things became dangerous did they listen to her.
"But this time is different! I saw it with my own eyes!" Harry shouted urgently.
"Fine, it’s up to you two. I’m done giving advice," she calmly said, making each word sound full of disdain.
"What? Do you act like we always need you? We won’t listen to you if you don’t even trust us. So don’t say anything if you don’t trust us. And we won’t ask anything from you anymore, clever girl."
Hermione smirked, amazed by how brave Ron was to say such things. But she just stared at Ron, her eyes filled with contempt. Harry stood between them, not knowing who to choose. She felt sorry for Harry, having to choose between Ron, his brother and best friend, and Hermione, the sister, the one who gave advice.
"Remember what you said, Ronald."
She said no more, quickly packing her things. She moved quickly toward the door, glancing back at the two who were still stunned. Hermione flung open the train door, a cold gust of wind making her shiver.
The noise from the corridor echoed. She carried her luggage forward, her mind blank. The narrow passageway forced her to squeeze past others. The dim lights flickered, making the hallway even gloomier. The sound of the train mixed with the murmurs of students. Strange and tired faces brushed past her. Hermione didn’t care. The rain outside reflected through the glass, each drop slamming against it.
Hermione touched the glass. A cold, biting sensation ran through her palm. The dark, gloomy view outside seemed to reflect her chaotic feelings. She felt lost in what she once thought was the most familiar place to her. Everything was the same, yet frighteningly different. She didn’t know why she felt that way. Had the joy she once felt disappeared?
Hermione passed by first-year students. They looked at her curiously, but she didn’t care. The noise grew louder, giving her a slight headache. The train compartments were packed with people, laughing and chatting, unaware of what tomorrow might bring.
How innocent.
Two first-year boys ran past her, making her glance back. One had green eyes and messy hair, like Harry. The other had a face quite like Ron’s. Behind them was a little girl trailing after them. She stared at the three. They reminded her of herself, Harry, and Ron when they first met. The two boys had always been close, while it took her a long time to fit in. She was so happy back then. Back then, she was truly innocent and naïve, but not anymore. Perhaps because of Voldemort.
But she always wondered: Why had she and Harry, Ron suddenly grown so distant? Why didn’t they talk like before? She would never be able to confide in Harry or truly in Ron. The two of them had so many secrets from her. The only person she could talk to was Ginny. That’s why she always treated Ginny like her sister.
Moreover, she hated the feeling of always being left behind. She hated not being acknowledged, even though she had contributed. She knew she was selfish, but she had to be for many years. She was tired of this dull life. No matter how strong she was, when faced with insults and contempt for her bloodline, she still felt hurt.
She was just a girl.
But who would understand her? People always saw her as intelligent, hardworking, or a bit of a bookworm. But high grades and praise never truly satisfied her. People are naturally jealous, selfish, greedy, and crave power. She was human, and so was she. At first, studying was everything to her. But after a long time, she realized that intelligence alone was not enough; power was what mattered.
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Hermione walked past a brightly lit compartment. She saw Ron’s red hair laughing and talking with some girls. It was Ginny Weasley. They were talking loudly, and she could hear one of them mentioning Harry. Ginny was blushing. She glanced at them briefly, pretending not to notice. But just then, Ginny looked out and saw her. Ginny appeared happy to see her, waving her hand. Hermione forced a smile. But her legs didn’t listen to her and walked faster. Ginny stood still, watching her figure disappear. The girl, keen as always, must have guessed that Hermione and Harry, Ron had just argued. She sighed in frustration that her brothers had made Hermione sad. Ginny returned to her friends.
Hermione could feel her heart pounding. She didn’t understand why she hated herself so much right now. Always smiling happily even though she didn’t want to see them. But even with Ginny, she acted this way? She always treated Ginny like a close friend, like a sister. The feeling of guilt washed over her like drowning in the ocean.
The sound of luggage falling to the ground made her feel a sharp pain. She opened her eyes, looking at the disordered mess before her. A foot stepped closer to her.
"Granger?"
A male voice, sharp and slightly mocking, echoed. She looked up and saw a face she would probably never forget. A boy with platinum blonde hair and familiar grey eyes. His thin frame now taller. His sharp features and pale skin made him look like a porcelain doll. Just one touch from her could leave a mark. No emotion was shown on his face, but she knew deep inside that look was full of disdain for her.
She stood up, smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt, adjusting her shirt. When she stood, she only reached his chin. But it was enough to look deeply into his eyes.
"Malfoy," she replied.
Draco glanced at her from head to toe. He wore a white shirt and expensive trousers. The silver cufflinks matched his eyes. He radiated elegance and sophistication. His sleeves were rolled up halfway, which caught her attention. With her sharp eyes, Hermione noticed a snake tattoo on Draco’s left arm. The snake coiled around a head. It seemed like a filthy mark on his pale skin. She frowned when she saw the snake seemingly moving. Draco seemed to notice her gaze and instinctively pulled his sleeve down to block her view. Yet, he remained unchanged, not showing a single reaction.
A long silence stretched between them. Her throat was dry. Perhaps the fall had made her head throb. She wanted to take his hand and inspect what she had seen. But he seemed to read her thoughts and pulled his sleeve down. Draco spoke slowly.
"Be careful next time, Granger."
Hermione became more curious about him. What he said wasn’t mocking or disdainful. It was completely different from what she expected. He quickly passed by her, or rather, he ran. Why? Was he hiding something like Harry said? What secret did the snake conceal? She spoke up.
"It seems like you’re in a hurry."
Draco stopped and turned to look at her.
"It’s none of your business."
"None of my business? Right, you don’t want anyone to know your secret." She looked down at his tattooed arm.
"Nice tattoo, Malfoy."
He frowned, clearly annoyed. "It’s not funny, Granger."
"Not funny? I think I’m a little funny," she said, her eyes never leaving his. Draco grimaced, showing clear dislike. "Or maybe I’m just curious about it."
"Don’t talk nonsense to me, Granger," he rejected the idea of standing near her. "I don’t want to be near something unclean."
She knew exactly what he meant by unclean. Still, she had no intention of letting him go. She stepped closer, looking deep into his eyes. She smirked, her red lips forming a sharp line on her face. "Maybe that dirty thing is just like you, in everything."
She got closer to him, her body swaying with each step. Slowly, she ran her fingers across his perfect face.
"It can’t be. Mud will always be mud, it can’t become diamonds or gems." He sneered.
"But inside the mud, there are diamonds and gems." She twirled a strand of hair around her finger, tilting her head to look at him. "They don’t need to turn into anything because they already have it."
He looked at her with half-lidded eyes. "So what do you have?"
"You’ll have to figure it out yourself, Malfoy."
He was about to speak when a sound from beside them silenced him. She followed his gaze to see a first-year girl watching them. The girl stood frozen at the door, her eyes wide open. Realizing they were looking at her, the girl stammered for a long time but couldn’t say anything. Hermione became calm, looking at the girl with no hint of embarrassment. He still wore his usual cold expression, his indifferent eyes staring at the first-year girl.
The girl’s face turned red, looking up at them with innocent eyes. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt."
"It’s fine. You didn’t interrupt anything," Hermione smiled gently. But she knew she was just wearing a fake mask. She forced a sweet smile while inside, everything was rotting.
"Yes" The girl smiled innocently. Hermione hated that smile.
Draco and the girl locked eyes. Just his furrowing of brows made her take a step back. She looked at him in fear, as though seeing a monster. Her eyes shifted down to Draco’s tattooed arm, her face paling. Her big eyes looked like they were about to cry. She couldn’t help but show her disgust.
"You should leave."
The girl hurriedly ran off. The smile on her face disappeared, replaced by disdain. He didn’t look at her. She didn’t either. Both of them had their own plans. He moved, taking long strides forward. He shoved his hands into his pockets, walking with an air of arrogance.
"This joke is ridiculous," he muttered, but loud enough for her to hear.
The moonlight illuminated both of their figures. Each strand of his platinum blonde hair fluttered in the wind. She stood still, her eyes fixed on his back as it slowly disappeared.
A joke? No.