Harry Potter The Point of Origin: Black, Red and White

Chapter: Exordium

Beta-Reader: Amadea

Synopsis: Hermione gets her hands on a rare item, which sets her on a dangerous quest. However, she is not the only one who is determined to have the item. Others, who are not afraid to get their hands dirty, are also after it. And why is Draco helping Hermione? Is there a catch?

Disclaimer: The owner of the main characters Hermione and Draco is J.K Rowling. The story and Mr Haggirson are entirely mine.

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It is a chilly day and people are striding quickly through the always busy streets of Diagon Alley. Their postures are set to go home as fast as possible as the clouds above their heads predict an upcoming rain. Even though they are rushing to get their things and go back to their cosy houses, one small house between two famous shops at the back of Diagon Alley will always remain unnoticed. Why it is left in the dark, people don't know, as they never notice it, except for one person. That person is happily surrounded by dozens of old and new books. She traces her finger on the covers in pure bliss. She chooses one and opens it. Her chocolate brown eyes scan through the first page before her eyes gives a questioning look at the book.

"You do not belong here, whoever put you here…Mister…" she searches for the author before she says his name: "Brown."

Pulling the book away from the others, she passes several shelves before she puts it in the right spot. She looks through the bookshop. It has always been this quiet; how this shop survives, she doesn't know. Looking outside, she sees how the first chubby raindrops are falling down the streets of Diagon Alley.

"Miss Granger?"

She blinks awake from her hypnosis and looks at Mister Haggirson. His friendly emerald eyes smile at Hermione. He is like a second father to Hermione. He treats her as a daughter, having no children of his own. His wife died many years ago for unknown reasons and it seems that the man doesn't have a very long life to live anymore either. His grey hair and beard—which are on the verge of being completely white—his wrinkles, which are uncountable, and his very unhealthy sounding coughs put him in the category of "old." Even though his appearance is old, his spirit is, to her surprise, very young and boyish. His eyes hold a gleam of mysticism but also of sadness. Hermione can't help it, but Mister Haggirson reminds her of Professor Dumbledore. She casts her eyes down in remembrance of him.

"Miss Granger?"

She shoots her head up and goes to him, "I told you to call me Hermione." She puts her hands on her hip as if she's mad at him, but the smile on her face gives her trick away.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. This old man's brain is merely the size of a peanut now. You should forgive it."

She laughs and holds his hand. "I will always forgive you, Mister Haggirson."

"I will hold you to that word then, child. I have to say that you did look like my wife when you said that." He laughs heartily, but stops as his thoughts are replaced by the sad memories of his dying wife flashing through his mind. Hermione stays quiet, as she doesn't know how to comfort the pain of this man's loss.

"However, I came to say that there's a delivery of new books that needs to be in the shop. Could you please do that for me?"

"Of course, that's why I'm here, aren't I?" Hermione says happily to lighten the mood.

Mister Haggirson takes her hand and smiles. "You're a good child, Hermione. Don't let the mist cloud your eyes." That being said, he takes his hand off hers and walks slowly to his office at the back of the shop.

"Ok….Not understanding what he meant, she shrugs and goes to the storageroom where the delivery should be. When she opens the room, she shrieks. Not of fear, but because of happiness. She has always loved deliveries, as she's always the first to see what kind of new books there are giving her the chance to buy them first and untouched. She opens a box carefully so as not to damage any covers. As she finally opens one, the doorbell chimes throughout the store. She curses, but plasters a smile on her face before she greets the customer.

"Good evening, how may I help…" her words die down as she sees who it is "You!" She will never forget the boy—now a man— before her. She was unfortunate to be in the same school as him for six years, where he taunted her without end. She hasn't and never will forget her enemies easily.

"Yes. Me, Granger. Forgot my name that fast? And people used to say you're the brightest witch. I beg to differ." He pierces her with his grey blue eyes, Enjoying every second of it.

"I…Well, it's clear that you never forgot me, " she bites back and smiles with triumph, crossing her arms defensively.

"Aside from Pothead and Weasel, I'm sure everyone is trying his or her best to forget you. Oh, one moment…Pothead and Weasel probably want to forget you, too, seeing as they put you in this god forsaken hole in Diagon Alley." He smirks at the last comment and sees how Hermione is starting to boil with anger. He can almost see the steam coming out of her ears.

"Mister Malfoy, I hope you come here not to insult the bookstore, but quite the opposite." Mister Haggirson looks at Malfoy with authority, but his eyes gleam a bit and the corners of his mouth twitch up. He gestures to Malfoy to proceed to the door of his office.

"I'm sorry, Mister Haggirson. Bad habits die hard; I'm sure you're aware of that." Malfoy's tone has completely changed to business, though he eyes Hermione with loathing as he ambles to the door.

Once Malfoy is out of earshot, Mister Haggirson walks to Hermione. "It'll be a quiet evening because of the rain and probably the coming storm. Why don't you head home early and take a good rest? You can do the delivery tomorrow, my child."

As he motions to Hermione to go, he steps to his office where Malfoy is waiting patiently. Hermione can't help it, but she is struck by terror as she imagines what Malfoy could do to the poor old man.

"Malfoy will kill you!" She hears a cough as Haggirson tries to muffle his laugh, and she closes her eyes in shame. She has voiced her thoughts aloud.

"I'm sure this old man survived long enough to survive this, too." He grins at her and adds, "Do not worry about me, Miss Granger." He takes his monocle out of his pocket, before he closes the door. Hermione's eyes don't leave the closed door. She sighs after she hears the business greetings of both men.

As Haggirson told her to, she takes her scarf, raincoat and umbrella out of the corner and faces the upcoming storm after she closes and locks the door behind her.

She walks down the path to the front end of Diagon Alley. After turning into uncountable streets on her left and right, she finally reaches a familiar house: her home. Unlocking the door, she can feel the warmth of her home already. She takes off her raincoat and scarf. Looking around the hall she decides to set the dripping umbrella next to the door. Switching her shoes for her slippers, she walks to the living room and plumps herself on the couch. No matter how many times she tells herself that everything will be okay, she has the unwanted feeling that something will go wrong. Her hands go to her head as it starts to spin.

"Maybe I need some rest indeed." Right then, Crookshanks jumps on her lap to agree with her. Purring loudly, he seeks the attention that he has been longing to have from his mistress. Hermione giggles and pets Crookshanks until her eyelids begin to droop. She decides to go to bed early to get a good night's rest. Changing to her nightgown, she let the sweet arms of Morpheus encircle her.

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_Mist is covering their appearances, even though the sound of robes is waving behind them, they don't mind to let everyone know what they are wearing. The contrast of the mist and the black robes explain that they do not care whether they are to be seen or not. The footsteps bouncing quickly over the pavement and rocky driveway state that there are more than one. They stop before the front door as they look at each other. However they can't see each others faces, because of the masks they are wearing. The tall person on the left makes a gesture to the plump person opposite him that he should unlock the door. The woman makes a mousy noise, who is next to the tall one. Eyeing each other again the plump man takes his wand out and points it to the door handle._

"_Alohomora"_

_He shots like a canon through the driveway, while he scores a bull's eye with the sign at the entrance. The woman chuckles, but covers her mouth by looking at the man next to her. His mask is fixed to her as if he's eyeing her dangerously. The companion at the driveway groans and dusts his robes. With his thick hand he picks the sign up which is in two pieces. It looks all battered by the heavy landing. As if he wants to control his anger, he smashes the sign to the ground again. He looks at them and shakes his head, followed by a silent pause. The heads turn to the leader. As if they are feeling his smirk, they all hide their laugh. There is no time for games, it is time to act. The tall man and the woman both attack the door with every curse they know. The stout man who was still at the entrance only thinks of one way to open the door, which is the muggle way. He goes a bit back, takes his position and storms with full-force to the door, while he steps on the sign again. The sign lay poorly on the floor, the flowing handwriting is almost unreadable, but if you look closely you can read the name "Haggirson"._

_A scream can be heard._

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Hermione shoots up, sweat covering her front. Her heart is pounding like she has run for miles. Crookshanks eyes her, irritated, before he yawns lazily and strolls to the nearest chair. She falls exhausted back on top of her bed, her right arm covering her eyes. She breathes heavily before she sits up again and decides to stand up. Her head is spinning too fast as she staggers to the bathroom to take some pills. She lets the sink fill with water and eyes the mirror above. Her chocolate brown curls are sticking everywhere and her eyes are puffy as if she has cried. She splashes her face with cold water to wake herself and it seems as if she is trying to wash that terrible nightmare away.

In the back of her mind she just knows that something is horribly wrong. She feels so stupid for letting Haggirson alone with Malfoy.

She rushes to her bedroom and takes the first clothing that claims her hands. After putting on the last piece of cloth, a doorbell sounds throughout the house. She stands still, not daring to move a muscle as the bell rings again. Breathing harder each passing minute, she walks to her nightstand to retrieve her wand first. The doorbell rings for the third time. She descends the stairs quietly towards the dark hall. She puts her ear to the door to hear any noises, but she can only hear the wind waving through the trees. She debates whether to open the door or not. Clamping the wand tighter, she gathers her lion courage. She closes her eyes and counts to three.

"One..." Her left hand goes to the door handle. She can feel how her hands are sweating and cold at the same time. "Two..." She bites on her lower lip and can feel her heart pounding dramatically in her chest. "Three." She opens her eyes and motions the door open. Her wand swings from her eye level.

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I would like to thank my beta-reader Amadea for putting effort in correcting my horrible grammar. You surely have my sympathy. *Applause*

Then I would like to **thank you** **so much for reading this story**

If it's not good, please tell me. If it's good please tell me too. Your word is my work.

Please read and **r****eview**!


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