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❝ It was me they chose to torture, back at the Malfoy's. It was because I'm a mudblood....❞
╰ PROLOGUE ╮
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Hermione Jean Granger was running. Running away from it all. She ran out the long and winding hallways, out the large wooden oak doors of her school, and down the area that had once been a entrance but now was nothing more than rubble of an ending war. Hermione didn't plan on ever stopping. The witch planned to keep on running as long as she possibly could. Running from everything that would ever, or already has hurt her. Which meant, she was leaving Hogwarts for good. And, maybe, all of Scotland for that matter. Hell, she was more then keen on the idea of moving out of the United Kingdoms, and into the large chaotic mess that is the United States. This was to only be a long forgotten chapter of her past life. A former life; Her former life as witch. A life, that like many others today, died in the great war against good and evil; a battle between light and darkness. A war that was won by the light side. But, with a great win, Came great losses; deaths that Hermione no doubly knows plays tribute to her instinct to run. These deaths will be mourned, have the best of burials, and their great heroic lives would probably be celebrated just like the death of the dark lord himself, and the rest of all his cowardly death eaters. But, her leaving wouldn't be mourned, missed, or even remotely questioned.
Hermione Granger just a plain, and boring mudblood. She's no boy who lived. And, she certainly not a witch with some complex family background that's rich in magic history, and plum full with magic and love; no, she only has two mortal parents who no longer remember her existence thanks to a Forgetfulness Charm. Hermione all alone, and that just leaves her feeling utterly empty. She's always had a task. An important role to play in Harry's and Voldmarts game of Cat and Mouse. She has always been the brightest witch her age; the brains of Harry's big heroic journey. But, now that heroic journey, that war of good vs evil was completely over, and everyone on Harry's long painful journey was getting their much deserved happy ever after; everyone except for Hermione. She didn't get anything, or anyone; Ron had chosen Lavender, and Harry had long ago made his chose of Ginny. Hermione was still very much alone; a lot of her other good friends wrapped in dark bloody blankets to hide their dead faces.
Which is why she choose to run. To escape. She need, no, she demanded to be more than just bright. More then just the best friend of the boy who lived. She wanted to be something more; to be her own great hero. To be her own person. A person who will hopefully find love; if that's even possible for a girl a like her.
Hermione can see by the comers of eyes, into the Great Hall. It's filled with grieving families, and friends; people she barely and or deeply knows. People she taught, people who taught her. People she shared a house with or a classroom. People whom she cares for. But, she can't stay. She know this very well. They wouldn't even noticed that she was gone anyways. The more she stares into the room it becomes clear that she not need. Not by anyone. That the small glimmer of hope that clanged to the idea of someone stopping her and begging her to stay flees from her soul; that much like Great Hall that is filled with the bodies of their dead; people, kids mostly, who died way before their time, were just like her. Gone. That they be missed by a small handful of people, forgotten, remembered in faint passing memories, and or separated from what they once had called a family.
" Miss Granger," Called a soft old voice which makes Hermione stop dead in her racks. She recognized the old pained voice as Minerva McGonagall, her former Transfiguration teacher. Hermione turns on her heels, and looks at the older women with a rather confused look. She didn't quite understand why her professor had stopped her in the first place. " Why are you leaving dear? Mister Potter, and Weasley are inside?" She questioned her gently.
" I'm leaving." Stated Hermione flatly. She glanced at the school before letting a small sight; a part of her was gonna miss the school that was before her eyes. Miss the grand magic of it all. " I'm leaving for good, Professor."
" What do you mean dear?" She asked the young witch with a frown.
" I'm leaving Hogwarts, and Scotland for that matter." She said.
" Why dear?"
" I'm just not need here..." she paused for moment to think about her words very carefully. " I'm a nothing here, and I wanna be more. More then I am now. I want something new. Something more adventurous. Plus, there's nothing really keeping me here. In fact, there's much more telling me to leave rather then to stay."
" Oh? And what does Mister Potter, and Weasley say about this?"
" They don't know. And why would they need to knew?" Hermione retorted rather annoyedly. She flashed her professor a small pained look. "You know, It was me they chose to torture, back at the Malfoy's. It was because I'm a mudblood... because my stupid blood statues. Because who I am. The reason I can't stay is because I don't wanna be at a place that not only houses all these painful memories, but discriminates against people like me. A place where I'm just bright. Just the best friend of Harry bloody Potter, rather then Hermione Granger."
" So, where will you go?"
" There's a werewolf tribe up in the Pacific Northwest that Professor Lupin talked about. Before everything that happened, he told me that he was interested in learning about their different type of lycanthropy, beliefs, and their unique stories. But, he obviously didn't get the chance to ever go. So, I think it's only far that go, in both his name and my own." Hermione explained. McGonagall smiled weakly at girl and nodded understandingly, she moved to hug her former student.
" You better be safe out there miss Granger. And I expect you to write to me almost weekly." She said as she pulled away from Hermione. She smiled up at her Professor. She was thankful that McGonagall was supporting her leaving. She was about the only person who might have had the ability to talk her out of running. To tell her to say at the school. " Now go on, and find that great adventure."
