Turn to the Darkside

The Order did WHAT?!

Hermione was seated in her room at 12 Grimmauld Place, the gloom of the old house seeping through the walls. The room was sparsely furnished, with only a rickety bed, a small wooden desk, and a creaky wardrobe. Dust motes danced in the weak sunlight filtering through the grimy window. She was engrossed in a thick, leather-bound book on defensive magic, the pages yellowed with age and filled with intricate spells and diagrams. This book would be considered dark by most, but to Hermione, it was an invaluable resource, a means to gather more knowledge and further her abilities.

Her concentration was shattered by a knock at the door, followed by a muffled voice calling her name. Heart racing, Hermione quickly hid the book beneath her pillow, her mind racing with thoughts of what could happen if someone discovered her studying such material. As a precaution, she grabbed another book from her bedside table, this one on house-elf enslavement, and wedged a finger into a random page. She opened the door, the book pressed to her chest like a shield.

"Oh, hello, Harry," she greeted, forcing a smile.

Harry Potter stood at her bedroom door, his expression a mix of guilt and exhilaration. His black hair was messier than usual, sticking out in all directions, and his glasses were slightly crooked. It was clear he had tried to clean up but hadn't quite succeeded. Hermione noticed his hands were dirty, and his face bore black smudges, resembling soot. His eyes, however, were bright and intense.

Without returning her greeting, he began speaking in a low, sorrowful voice that even Hermione could tell was fake. "Hermione, your parents are dead."

The book slipped from her grasp, landing with a thud on the wooden floor. She stared at him, her mind struggling to process his words. He coughed, poorly concealing what seemed to be a smile.

"THEY'RE WHAT!? WHY!? WHAT HAPPENED!?" she screamed, tears welling up in her eyes and streaming down her face.

"They are dead. We had to do it. I'm so sorry, Hermione. I'm so sorry. They..."

Hermione could no longer hear him. The world around her seemed to blur and fade, his voice becoming a distant echo.

They killed her parents? Why would they do that? They were Muggles!

"What did they do, Harry?! They were Muggles! What could warrant their death? What did they do that was so bad you had to kill my parents?!" Hermione sobbed, her fists clenching into tight balls, her knuckles turning white.

Harry took a step back, sensing the danger emanating from the brown-haired girl in front of him. He had the decency to look ashamed under her fierce stare, his shoulders hunched as if under a great weight.

"They were involved with Voldemort. Your parents were working against the Order and helping Voldemort take over the Muggle world. We had to kill them before they told him everything they could have heard from you." He looked at Hermione with pleading eyes, only to look back down at his feet when he saw the cold, hard glare in her usual soft and warm chocolate-colored eyes.

Hermione scoffed, the sound harsh and bitter, and glared even harder as he looked back down.

She didn't shout this time. Instead, she spoke in a friendly tone, unclenching her fists. She walked towards him, stepping over her discarded book with deliberate slowness.

"What kind of friend are you, Harry? What kind of friend kills their best friend's parents? I can't believe you." Her voice was soft, almost tender, but laced with an underlying menace.

The soft and friendly tone seemed to scare him more than the shouting did, and he took several more steps back to get away from her.

Hermione took one last look at him, smiled sweetly, and glared furiously. She knew he'd tread carefully around her now and try to make it up to her as much as he could.

"It's okay, Harry. I'm sorry I shouted," she said with a voice full of remorse and understanding. "I understand why you did it... I'm just upset that they are gone. Even if they were helping You-Know-Who, they were still my parents. But I understand..."

She walked further towards him, her change in tone seeming to soothe him. He extended a hand to her awkwardly, probably meant as a comforting gesture. She took it, and he smiled hopefully.

"You do? You understand?" He looked at her, his eyes searching her face for reassurance.

Hermione nodded slowly, letting a tear fall down her face. "I do. I'm just going to need some time to adjust to the fact that my parents are gone, and that I'm never going to see them again."

Harry nodded and smiled softly. "I get that, 'Mione. I'll get the others to leave you alone for a couple of days. I'm sure Mrs. Weasley will bring your meals up for you..."

Hermione cut him off, letting go of his hand. "I'm not staying here. Not while I sort through my emotions. I'm going to go to my aunt's house and mull things over there. I need to fully accept this change in myself before I can face anyone in the Order. I need time to think." Hermione's eyes welled up again, the tears brimming but not yet falling. "I just need time."

Harry bowed his head in understanding. "So you'll be gone by morning?" After her small nod, he grabbed both her hands and hugged her, not realizing she tensed up. "Take all the time you need. Your friends will be here when you return..." He seemed to be thinking but didn't say anything else.

Hermione extricated herself from his embrace, smiled, and turned to her door, looking over her shoulder. "Thank you, Harry. I knew you'd understand."

With that, she closed her bedroom door quietly and cast a non-verbal sound-deadening ward on her room. The silence was oppressive, pressing in on her from all sides.

As soon as she was alone, Hermione began to panic internally.

They're dead. Dead. Gone. My mom and dad are dead.

She screamed, and a burst of magic erupted from her, hitting the already ripped and torn walls, leaving them slightly singed.

"I need to leave here..."

In a spur-of-the-moment decision, she grabbed her belongings, threw them into her trunk, and shrunk it to place in her pocket before Apparating out of the room.

The only place she could think of was Diagon Alley. It was only 4 PM; shops would still be open, and she might be able to get a room to lay low for a little while.

She needed to figure out what to do next. She needed to take down the Order, make them feel her pain, make them regret hurting her, make them regret killing her parents. They had just lost their ticket to win the war.

I need to take out the Order.

"I just need to figure out how..." she mumbled to herself, walking down the busy street.

If it's the last thing I do, I will kill you, Harry Potter.