“Out of they way, muggle!” A harsh voice called at me. I recognized the voice, and didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. But I did anyway. A tall, blonde wizard, a Death Eater, was pointing his wand at me. Next to him, a greasy haired hook-nosed wizard was giving me the strangest look. It was as though he felt bad about what his friend was doing, and yet, he totally agreed with it.

I knew these few minutes I had wasted on analysis were a few too many, and so I bolted down the alleyway. I tripped and fall on my jeans, which were three sizes too big, but I got up and kept going. After what seems like eternity, I reached the door leading to my home and to my safety. But I am never really safe.



I was four years old when my parents died. I remember that day so clearly. I heard the door slam, and my father yelled something to my mother. Suddenly, she ran into the kitchen, where I was sitting eating sugar-free candy. (My parents were dentists.)

“Mione, love, listen to me now,” my mother said, and I, being very astute for a four year old, noticed the terror in her eyes. “We’re going to play a fun game, sweetie, hid and go seek!”

She gently hurried me towards the back door and whispered, “Go hide now sweetie, hide as well as you can. Then, in a little bit, I’ll come find you. Sound good?” I smiled weakly and nodded. “All right, go hide!” and she nudged me out the door, slammed it, and locked it.

I remember running as fast as I could. I ran into a little playground and looked for the hiding place I wanted. There it was, the tallest tree in the whole country, or at least that’s how it seemed it a four-year old.

I sat there for hours, wondering what my parents could be doing. When it started to get dark, I slipped down the tree, as every muggle knew that it wasn’t safe to be out at night. I jogged home, trying desperately to beat the sunset.

But when I got home, I wished I hadn’t. On the living room floor, my mother and father lay dead. The expressions on their faces chilled me to the bone. Such pain, such anguish. I realized many years later, that since they were muggles, they were subjected to the Cruciatus Curse. Muggles were never killed with the Killing Curse, it was too painless for what was considered such a vile race.

And then I ran. I spent the next seven years running. I hid out wherever I could find shelter, sometimes a tree, sometimes a box, once I even slept in a garbage can. By the time I was eleven, the systematic killing of muggles had ceased. Master Wormtail had declared a free-for-all in the area of Muggle slaughter, any Death Eater could kill any muggle he chose to at any time. An era of constant fear arose.

I have never seen the Dark and Supreme Lord Voldemort, as he is now called. Sometimes, I still hear wizards refer to him as “You-know-who” but he commands more respect from us muggles. But I have seen Master Wormtail.

I remember the parade on Halloween. The day when the Dark and Supreme Lord destroyed the one who could’ve beaten him. Such a sad day for us muggles and good wizards, but the greatest celebration of the year for the Death Eaters.

Master Wormtail, being grandmaster of our region, was the “main attraction” in our parade. He rode a gleaming broom, trying desperately to keep his balance while waving to his humble servants.

I didn’t understand how such a stupid looking man could gain such respect. This was one of the lessons I learned from my mentor, one of the many, many lessons.



The day I met my mentor, nay, my surrogate father, started out as the darkest day of my life. It was September first, just a few days before my birthday. I was walking around town, trying to keep out of sight, when a bright red something caught my eye.

Usually I did not venture out of the shadows, but I had to see what that red thing was in the street. When I came up to it, I would’ve screamed, if I had not known how foolish that would be. For lying there in the street were a group of children with flaming red hair. The looks on their faces told me they were wizards, as there was fear in their faces, not anguish.

My attention was quickly drawn to one of the children. He looked to be about my age, lanky, with beautiful eyes and flaming red hair just like the other children. It looked like there was a smudge of some sort on his nose, too. As I stared at that boy, I felt a huge sense of loss. It was if I had known him, as if he was my friend.

Just as I started to break down, two firm hands gripped me around the waist and hurried off with me. I was so dejected from what I had just seen; I didn’t have the energy to scream.


“Are you okay?” he asked, as he set me down on a warm comfy chair. I looked in his eyes, black as night, and felt the same as I had felt with the boy in the street, it was as if I’d known him before.

“I’m fine,” I said meekly, wondering who this handsome man could be. “Who are you?” I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me.

“Sirius Black, one of the last surviving members of the Order of the Phoenix,” he said, holding out his hand to me.

“The Order of the Phoenix?” I asked, astonished. It was every muggle’s dream to be taken in by that wonderful group of people who protected us. With that happy thought, I leaned back and fell asleep in the chair where I was sitting.

“Hermione!” Sirius exclaimed as he opened the door and ushered me into the house. “I was beginning to worry.”

“I ran into a little trouble,” I said, setting down the grocery bag full of the scraps I was able to steal. Voldemort had recently gained the faculty to know where and when any magic was being performed, so lately Sirius had to at like a muggle. This meant I had to steal whatever we needed, because we knew Sirius would be killed on sight out of our humble abode.

“What kind of trouble?” he asked, his eyes filling with worry. He looked so unnatural that way; his face was made for laughing. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything, because every time he worried about me it usually meant he risked the outside world so I would be safe.

“It was nothing really,” I said, giving him a reassuring smile as I pulled my long, bushy brown hair into two neat braids and rolled up the sleeves of my baggy sweatshirt. “Just Snape and Malfoy, they’re nothing to worry about.”

Sirius frowned. “I never thought I’d say it, but I’m glad we still have Severus Snape on our side.”

Not wanting to spoil this rare kind thought towards Snape, I didn’t mention the look I had read in Snape’s face, and just nodded in agreement.

As I walked over to our little wood-burning stove to cook some frozen peas I had swiped while they were thawing on someone’s counter, I tripped on my long jeans.

“I wish I could fix those, honey,” Sirius said as he helped my up. “Tomorrow, when I go out, I’ll try and find some sowing stuff, maybe I can fix them by hand.”

“When you go out?” I asked, incredulously. “I don’t think so, Sirius. You are not going to go running around in broad daylight just because my jeans are too long.”

Before Sirius could answer me, we heard three quick taps on the door. Sirius went over and tapped once, which was echoed by the person on the outside. The secret knock.

Sirius opened the door and let in his old friend and my surrogate uncle, Remus Lupin. Remus had a secret, which the two of them thought I didn’t know about, but I did. It really is pretty easy to figure out that someone is a werewolf when they come by every night except for when there is a full moon. At least, it’s pretty easy to figure out after noticing this pattern for nearly seven years.

“I brought you a present, Hermy,” Lupin said, after a warm embrace with Sirius. I almost laughed out loud when he handed me a new pair of jeans, exactly my size.

“Where did you get these?” I asked, wondering at how he could find me something so perfect.

“Oh, I have my ways,” was all he said. Then he asked, “What’s for dinner?” Sirius and I chuckled and pretty soon I had a yummy dinner of peas and stale bread out on the table.

---

Remus had not always been such a friend to me. I remember the first night I spent with Sirius, Lupin came to visit. I heard a voice in the kitchen, and soon gathered that Sirius had moved my sleeping form into a soft bed and was now having a discussion with an old friend.

“YOU DID WHAT?” I heard Lupin question, rather loudly.

“Would you keep it down? She’s sleeping,” Sirius said, with a sweet softness in his voice.

“Padfoot,” Lupin began, using what I figured was a childhood nickname, “I just can’t understand why you would do this. Why would you do this? We’re already first on Wormtail’s list; you know it as well as I do. Why would you make things worse for yourself by taking in a muggle? Anyhow, you’re putting her in more danger, she’s probably safer out on her own than in here with a wanted ‘criminal’” He said the last word with such disgust, I was pretty sure he did not believe Sirius to be a criminal. I heard a chair scrape against the ground and a loud sigh as Lupin sat down.

“Do you know what day it is, Moony?” Sirius asked politely, and I heard another chair scrape against the floor as he also sat down.

“September first, why?” Lupin asked, confused as to why Sirius was changing the subject.

“Today is the day Harry would’ve started Hogwarts. That’s why I took this girl in. When I came upon her, she was looking at the Weasley kids. I’m sure you’ve heard by now what happened to them,” Sirius said, and I heard a grunt of assent form Lupin.

“It was the way she looked at Ron, the one Harry’s age, which did it to me, Moony. She was looking at him like she knew him, or at least like his death hurt her deeply. And as I watched her, and saw her about to feint, I knew that Harry would’ve wanted me to take her in.” By now I had stolen from my bed and was gazing through the crack between the door and the wall. I saw Sirius look up at Lupin, an expression on his face more sincere than anything I’d ever seen.

“Sirius, Harry was barely one year old when he died, how can you know what he would’ve wanted you to do?” Lupin asked, and I could tell he feared for his friend’s sanity.

Suddenly, I realized who the Harry was they were talking about. Harry Potter, the only one who ever had the power to vanquish Voldemort, the child who the Evil One killed on Halloween all those years ago. And somehow, I felt the same way about him I had felt about the boy in the street, I felt as though he, too, was my friend.

“Moony, don’t you ever get that feeling that this isn’t how it’s supposed to be? I get that feeling all the time. It’s as if we’re in another dimension or something. That’s when I know what Harry would want. And there’s one more thing, I feel like I know this girl. I knew her name was Hermione as soon as I saw her. I knew she was a muggle, but most importantly, I knew there was magic in her.” Sirius looked directly into Lupin’s eyes, and asked, “Don’t you ever get that feeling?”

Slowly, Lupin nodded. “When I found out Dumbledore had died, that’s when I started to get the feeling that this just wasn’t the way the world was supposed to be,” he paused and took a deep breath, as though the memory he had brought up was too painful to think about, “All right, I’ll help out with the girl, maybe we can even teach her a little, if you think there really is magic in her. I mean, today would’ve been the day she went to Hogwarts, too.”

I remember how my heart skipped a beat when Sirius said that there was magic in me. I didn’t know who Dumbledore as, and I had no clue what Hogwarts meant, but I felt in my heart that I had known before. Just like Sirius had said, it was as if I had been living in the wrong dimension all my life.

They had never taught me any magic, never even mentioned to me they thought I was magical. Maybe, after I went back to bed, they decided it would be too dangerous. Or maybe they forgot. Or maybe I just dreamed the whole conversation. I find the last option to be very improbable, as it seemed so real to me.

“Hermione?” Lupin asked, dragging me out of my reverie.

“What? I wasn’t listening,” I said, tearing myself away from memories of my past.

“There’s something Sirius and I need to do tonight. So we’re going to leave you alone here, do you think you can handle it?” he asked, and I noticed he seemed for more nervous than usual.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, as I had held down the fort, as it were, while the two of them went out many times. “What do you have to do?”

They exchanged looks. Lupin seemed to warn Sirius with his eyes, but I got the distinct impression Sirius didn’t care what Lupin thought.

“We’re getting rid of Wormtail once and for all,” was all Sirius said, and I nodded. I’d learned long ago the treachery and betrayal which had allowed Wormtail to attain his current level of prestige and power. Lupin nodded at Sirius, and I thought I saw a relieved look on his face.

“Be careful,” I said, as they prepared to leave, “and good luck.”

“We’re going to need it,” Lupin said, and the two of them walked out the door.

---

‘Getting rid of Wormtail?’ I thought after they left. Did that mean they were going to kill him? I really didn’t think it was possible. How could they kill their best friend?

“Well,” I said to myself, “Actually, he’s their ex-best friend.” And with a slight pang, I remembered the night Sirius had told me what Wormtail had done to gain such respect.

It was Halloween, just a few months after Sirius took me in. I had so many questions, many of which I was still too afraid to ask. But on this night, I could see the sadness in his eyes, the utter depression with which he flipped through his old photo album; I knew I had to say something.

“Sirius?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly as I gently laid my arm on his. “What are you looking at?”

“Oh, these are just some old pictures,” he sighed, and started to close the book.

“Pictures of what?” I asked. I was being persistent. I wanted so much to know the past of this mysterious man who cared enough to take me. The words Remus had spoken to him on that first night haunted me. Why was he first on Wormtail’s list? What had he done?

I suppose he sensed my eagerness, and when he looked into my eyes, I suppose he could see my compassion. And so, he began to tell me. He opened the book, and pointed to a picture of four boys, looking to be about my age.

“That’s me,” he said, pointing to a boy with shaggy black hair and eyes as dark as night, “and my three best friends. Remus Lupin, you already know,” he said, pausing before he went on to the boy with messy black hair, thick glasses, and knobby knees. “That,” he said, with a deep sigh, “is the best friend I ever had, James Potter.”

I had figured that they were friends, from the way that Lupin and Sirius spoke about James, and about his son, Harry.

But there was one figure remaining. One who almost looked like-?

“Wormtail?” I gasped, pointing to the chubby boy with a rat-like face.

“Exactly,” said Sirius, and odd tone coming into his voice, “The back-stabbing little conniver was the fourth of our foursome, the smallest and meekest, the follower and never the leader, and eventually the traitor.”

I stared at Sirius, wordless in my astonishment. “Traitor?” I asked, breathlessly, beginning to see how Wormtail gained his title and respect.

“When James learned that he and his wife, Lily, were Voldemort newest targets, he took special measures to protect them and their little son, Harry. But sweet, meek, ratty Peter betrayed them. He turned them over to Voldemort. He gave up his best friends for his own power. Remus and I will never forgive him.”

He said this last sentence with such an air of finality that I did not press further. And now, it seemed, he and Remus were setting out to finally avenge the lives of their dearest friend, his wife and child, and the whole world.

I sat alone for hours, worrying about the two men who meant more to me than anything. I think I actually prayed for their safety. I hadn’t prayed since I was a little three-year old in my big safe house with my living, happy parents. After their deaths, life was too dark to pray.

As my thoughts drifted from Sirius and Lupin to God to my parents, I noticed something lying on the table. It was Sirius’s photo album. Desperate to get my mind off worrying, I picked it up.

I had not looked at that book since the day Sirius told me what Peter had done. After gazing for a moment at that first picture, mesmerized, for a moment, by the smiling and waving being done by the boys, I turned the page and saw a wedding photo.

There he was, right in the middle, James Potter. His jet black hair stuck up in the back, and when I saw that, my heart skipped a beat. A memory, it seemed, had awoken. Jet black hair that never seemed to lie flat.

Then, I looked at the woman next to James. “Lily Potter,” I whispered to myself, engrossed in her beautiful green eyes. Once again, something within me stirred and I smiled. ‘You have your mother’s eyes.’

I didn’t know where these thoughts were coming from, but they seemed to be a part of me. I turned the page once more, and saw a picture that nearly stopped my heart. It was Sirius, my wonderful Sirius, standing in front of a beautiful tree. He was holding a baby, but not just any baby, a baby with jet black hair and eyes like his mother.

I began to cry. The mention of Harry Potter had stirred something within in me seven years ago, but the sight of his infantile form broke my heart. “I know him! He’s my friend,” I thought, though I knew it was not true.

For the next hour, I stared at that picture, and felt memories of two boys float back into my head. Not my two boys, not the one with eyes as black as night and the slightly disheveled one, no, two different boys. One with brilliant green eyes and the other with flaming red hair.


It was about midnight when it happened. Sirius and Lupin had been gone for nearly 4 hours, and I was beginning to worry. Suddenly, the whole Earth seemed to shake, including my body. Not really my body, but the spirit inside my body. It felt like it wanted to escape. At first I fought the feeling, but then I embraced it. As my soul drifted out of its strange, unwanted casing, I felt the world shift. My last thought in my dimension was “Sirius won’t be there.”

---

“Whoa,” Hermione proclaimed all of the sudden one night at dinner. No one seemed to notice, not even Ron or Harry. But Hermione had definitely felt a change in her body, as thought a part of her that had been missing had returned.

She suddenly felt the urge to look at Professor Lupin. When she looked up, she saw a strange expression on his face. It looked as if he, too, had been completed, as if a part of him had returned.

“Excuse me,” she whispered to those around her, and slipped out of the room into the foyer. A moment later, Lupin joined her.

“Did you feel it too?” he asked, stopping Hermione in mid-pace.

“Oh yeah, I felt it. But there was someone else, someone else should’ve felt it,” Hermione said, half to herself and half to Professor Lupin. Suddenly, comprehension came upon her face. “What did you and Sirius do that night?”

“Honestly,” he said, “I can’t remember. It seems to be fading. It all seems to be fading. Like it never even happened.”