Dark, Twisted and Time Turned

Chapter 2: Lost Control

(*Warning: Violence, Murder, talk of war, minor language)

"How- no, why. Why did you keep this from me?" She mutters, feeling the trust she once had slowly dissolving as her parents continued to talk. Her voice, though quiet, echoes in the room.

"Hermione dear, please. You have to understand, we thought you'd be just like the rest of my family. Squib." Her father pleads, reaching for her hand. She pulls it away.

"I am sixteen years old. I think it was quite obvious five years ago I wasn't like the rest of your family." She laughs without humour. "Look at that. Hermione Granger, mudblood scum, is descended from one of the oldest family lines in wizarding Britain. And fae! Oh, how could I forget, the blood of a supposed extinct creature." Her mother flinches. Hermione doesn't care.

"How could you. How could you." Her resigned disbelief quickly turned to anger, her shoulders burning. She paid it no mind. She paid no mind to the voice egging her on. "How could you hide something like this from me!"

"Hermione please, calm down. We thought it would be too late at this point to tell you-"

"Put your wand away." Her mother snaps, interrupting her father. Hermione glances down at her hand, surprised to see she had pulled out her wand. It fuels her further to raise it, her mother staring cross eyed at the wand tip in her face. She grits her teeth as her back burns again, the voice suggesting a plethora of dark spells she could use. She tells it to shut up. It has several words to reply with.

"Hector Dagworth-Granger, the last one, before the line came to hide in our world, was cursed by one of his competitors who was jealous of his success in potioneering. The signet ring was inlaid in dark spells, that when worn by Hector, would ensure that his line would be robbed of magical ability. No magic at all. We expected the same for you but- well, with your mothers circumstances, it was enough to awaken your magical core." Her father tries to explain gently, eying her wand warily. The burning got worse. The voice got worse. And goddammit, her anger was worse.

Her mother reaches out as if to hug her, and Hermione jerks away. "Don't touch me. How is an extinct creature somehow sitting here, as my mother? How long until the shifts?"

"My family stayed hidden in the muggle world. As long as we avoided any wizards, no one could find out what we were." Hermione grinds her teeth in frustration.

"How long until the damn shifts?" Her mother shifts uncomfortably.

"When you come of age, dear." And with that, Hermione blows up. Quite literally. A spell of some sort bursts from the end of her wand, striking her mother right between the eyes. She crumples to the floor. Horror of what she had done begins to set in, until a slight burn, and any remorse quickly fades. Her father backs away, terrified. Of her.

Well, this is exciting. To see the fear in his eyes. Fear of you. Taste the power. Intoxicating, isn't it?

"You lied to me. To your own daughter." She snaps, and his eyes hold no warmth in them as they meet hers.

"I don't know who you are, this magic, this anger. I can practically taste the darkness on you. Whoever you are, you are not my daughter."

Without hesitation, the green curse flies from her wand, and only when he crumples dead, does the burning abruptly stop.

"Oh god. Oh god." She murmurs, tears dripping down her face as she falls to her knees. She crawls to her mother, crying harder when she finds no pulse. She doesn't bother to check her father, knowing full well what green curse she had cast. Her skin crawls, and she's disgusted with the delightful tingling throughout her. Her mind races.