Mudblood No More

Hermione Granger

"Hermione, sweetheart, have you packed your trunk?" her mother asked, climbing up the spiral staircase. As dentists, Hermione's parents were no strangers to a bit of wealth, and their home was quite beautiful.

"Yes, Mum. I've done it all. Trunk is packed, robes have been laid out, my money pouch is on top of them," eleven year old Hermione called from her bedroom.

"Good. Now, as you're leaving tomorrow, we've decided to celebrate your last night here with us, so wear something nice, and come down soon, darling."

"Alright." 

After selecting a lilac colored dress, she quickly changed into it. She attempted to tame her wild, bushy brown hair, but after too many failed tries, she simply placed a headband with a bow on the side of it on her head, and slipped lilac flats on her feet.

Now that she was matching head to toe in her favorite color, she was satisfied, and therefore, felt compelled to make her appearance. As it turned out, her parents were waiting for her, and had been about to call her when she had arrived.

"You look lovely, Hermione," her mother complimented. Jean Granger was just now realizing how much Hermione had grown. She looked as mature as she was, and for Hermione, that was certainly saying something.

"Thanks, Mum. You look wonderful, too. So do you, Dad."

"Thank you, Hermione," both parents chorused, as Jean reached for her clutch purse, and Dan took out the car keys.

"We're going to go out for dinner. It seems that there is a new Italian restaurant on the other side of town, and I've heard that it's something every Italian food lover has to try. We figured that we couldn't deprive our little girl of this opportunity to inhale some more tiramisu," her father teased.

Hermione grinned. It was true that she absolutely adored Italian food. She was often caught claiming that if she could only eat one type of cuisine for the rest of her life, it'd be Italian. 

"Alright, if we want to be in time for our reservation, we've got to leave."

With that, the small family of three made their way to the car, and within moments, they were pulling out of their driveway.

***

About thirty minutes later, they arrived at the restaurant. Hermione finally realized why her mother had told her to dress formally, and was very glad that she had picked this certain outfit. The place was not casual. When they were seated at their table, Hermione saw that it was set with every single type of spoon, fork, and knife that there was. She was suddenly thankful that her mother had insisted that she attend etiquette classes, even though, at the time, she had been wary of the suggestion.

"Here's your menu, love," the waitress handed her a laminated sheet of paper.

Waiting till after the woman had left, Hermione flipped the menu over, before realizing that there wasn't a back side to it.

So, she thought. Not many options are there?

"Sweetheart, what are you going to order?" her mother questioned, her eyes still stuck to her menu. It seemed that while Hermione thought that the food was too exquisite for her liking, her mother found it just wonderful.

"I'm not sure," the girl replied. She'd never really been fond of trying new foods, for she'd always just done well with consistency, and that also applied to everything edible.

"Hm.. the Black Ink Pasta seems great.. or maybe the Shrimp and Pasta platter? Well, sweetheart? You have to pick, and all of this looks so delicious!"

Hermione looked over her menu once more, then grimaced when her eyes landed on the Black Ink Pasta. I don't fancy eating squid ink today, she thought snarkily.

Now her father spoke to her. "Hermione, just try it. It might be something new, and you never know. You might end up loving it. You should always give things a chance."

She nodded at her father, but knew full well that she had no intention of taking his advice.

However, she had run out of time, because the waitress seemed to have magically appeared beside the table. After taking orders for their drinks, she asked, "Are you ready to order entrees, or do you need more time?"

"We're ready," her mother replied.

While her parents were ordering, she closed her eyes, and used her finger to point to an item on the menu. She ended up choosing chicken, and linguine with marinara sauce. Satisfied that at least she was ordering something normal, Hermione informed the waitress of her choice, who immediately scribbled it down in her notepad.

When all the meals arrived, Hermione was surprised greatly. She had not expected something that was quite as mouthwatering as it was.

Reflecting back on that moment, years later, Hermione had to admit that her father's advice was good for life in general, as well. She hadn't known this at the time, and if she had, it could have saved her a lot of heartache. Who could have thought?

***

Meanwhile, Bellatrix sat in her cell in Azkaban. Her once beautiful, thick locks were now coming out in chunks, and anything that was left was pointing in different directions. Her womanly figure had disappeared, and all that remained of her was a pile of bones with a thin layer of waxy skin stretched tightly across it.

But that was not what she was worried about. Every day, for the past nine years, all she had been able to think about was her daughter, and how she had failed her.

I will find you, Hermione. Mummy will come for you. And when I find out who did this to you, they'll pay. I'll rip them to shreds, she thought viciously. And with that, she let out a maniacal shriek of laughter.