The Royal Tragedy

Prologue: Dread

The Royal Tragedy Prologue: Dread

Rain slammed against the window, begging to be let into the warmth that the small apartment contained. Hermione sat in her armchair, a warm cup of tea clutched lightly in her grip as she watched the rain drops race down the window. Her mother use to love to watch the rain, used to sit with her and tell her stories about princess who save the knight, and queens who wouldn't bow down to anyone.

However, this wasn't a happy memory, and the weather seemed to agree, as lighting slashed open the sky, letting thunder shaking the ground. But Hermione welcomed it like a loving distraction, drowning in her memoires to avoid the problem at hand.

The Ministry had finally lost their minds. Maybe it was the toll the war had left on everyone's hearts, or maybe it was the pressure of broken families demanding recompense. Either way, the Ministry couldn't cope, and their solution had put even more dread in everyone's soul. How could a world be healed with a part of the problem? No one could have dreamed this is how it would have worked, but the Ministry hadn't put in a failsafe. What was done, was done, and now the whole world was in fear, no one felt safe, not even her. Especially not her.

Hermione turned her head to the newspaper that lay broken on the floor, pages scattered across the carpet. Then front cover stared at her, mocking her, haunting her. The picture stood out in bright colour, despite only being the usual back and white image that always stained the news articles. There stood the Minister of Magic, dressed in his official robes, shaking hands with a man, a man most deemed not worthy to take lead of the Magical World.

Hermione gazed out of the window once more. Being on the top floor of the apartment block had its advantages. Dots of light decorated the city below her like a picture you could only see if you look at it from a certain angle. But each dot held a story, held a mother gripping her children, and husbands holding their partners. People torn in half, one side of themselves wanting to celebrate, the new degree would help a lot of people, could completely save the Wizarding World. Their other half wanting to scream, no help could come from such a snake. No one was safe now. Fights raged out, families yelling until their throats hurt, torn apart by their beliefs.

Hermione shook her head, her imagination running wild. Maybe it wasn't as bad as she thought. Maybe it was only bad for people like her.

Suddenly, her fireplace lit up with a green light, flames burning bright, shinning into the dark room, bathing it in a horror movie glow. A body came tumbling forward, black hair staining her floor, as the person tumbled from the flames, and onto her white carpet.

"Really George?" Hermione giggled, as the lanky boy pushed himself up, back onto his feet, his hair standing out more than it ever did when it was a natural ginger. After almost a year since he changed his hair, Hermione had only just started to get used to it. "I thought I told you to be more careful. You're going to stain my carpet one of these days with the amount of soot you bring with you."

George smiled, his body relaxing. Hermione's apartment had that affect, or maybe it was just her. He didn't get any pity glances here, he didn't feel like people walked on eggs shells around him here, because Hermione didn't. She didn't treat him like a cracked china doll, she didn't baby him, she just treated him like a person.

"I just thought I'd pop in, see how you are. Where's Ron?" George scanned the room, finding only Hermione present.

"All available Aurors were called out to control a riot that started in downtown London."

"You can't blame them. People are angry."

"People are scared. There's a difference."

"I know."