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PROLOGUE

"Curiosity is the lust of the mind."

~ Thomas Hobbes

It was said that curiosity killed the Kneazle.

Whether that statement was true or not she had yet to decide, and so it remained debatable for now. Although, there appeared to be substantial evidence which pointed in the direction of truthfulness.

That honestly didn't bode well for anyone at the moment.

After all she had been through over the years, after everything that had just ended a year prior to this day, was mere curiosity really going to be her downfall? Truly?

It seemed so.

She had always thought curiosity to be Ravenclaw's downfall, not Gryffindor's. Gryffindors were thought to be susceptible to challenges and dares, not curiosity. But then again, the Sorting Hat did consider putting her in Ravenclaw.

That said, it hardly explained anything at all. So she wondered.

How had all this come to pass? Where had it all gone wrong?

Again it was her natural inquisitiveness at fault.

Finishing her last and final year at Hogwarts after the war had left her devoid of Harry and Ron's companionship. They had chosen not to return, whether it was because of too many bad memories of the school or a non-existent desire to learn, she didn't know. She didn't particularly care either, nor did she blame them, as some seemed to believe.

Cleverness and books were her thing, not theirs.

She had missed them greatly though, having only seen them a few times during weekends in Hogsmeade or during school holidays. It was a stark contrast to living in a tent together for a whole year. Perhaps, she thought, they had honestly needed some time apart.

So she had started to evolve on her own. Mature into the young and brilliant woman she knew herself to be under the many layers of uncertainty and doubt. The war had taken a lot from her, stolen whatever childish innocence was left in her, but it had also given something important in return.

Confidence.

An aspect of herself she had sorely lacked in her early years of life. Now she held her head high and let no one humiliate her, carried herself with poise and conviction to the best of her ability.

She was within her rights to attend Hogwarts regardless of her birth, which shouldn't really matter, and she would unleash hell on the poor sod that would dare suggest otherwise.

She had definitely changed yes; she had made new friends too, or rather, focused on old acquaintances and friends, as to keep the loneliness at bay. But it was a given that no one could ever compare to the bond that she shared with Harry and Ron, she wouldn't be foolish enough to believe otherwise.

Of course she had also taken studying to the next level, the level of extremes some would say, and achieved scores equal to that of Albus Dumbledore's, one of the most gifted students to ever walk the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And so she was celebrated as the Brightest-Witch-of-Her-Age yet again. Thrown into the mix was also her newly acquired status of War Heroine.

She cared for none of those titles, and they sounded shallow after fighting in an outright war. To hell with awards and ceremonies, there was nothing to celebrate in her mind. Not after seeing so many good people die before her eyes, not after seeing their lifeless bodies scattered around.

She had indeed changed after that particular horrifying moment in her life.

Harry and Ron on the other hand, was a completely different matter to discuss, as they had taken a liking to regular drunken debauchery. That surprised her, or at least Harry did, Ron not so much.

They experienced the joys of life as Ron used to say, took the time to learn how to be young and carefree. Again she couldn't fault them, couldn't blame them. They were finally free of the chains binding them, Harry especially.

Ginny wasn't so enthused though, but she would wait patiently for him to sow his wild oats, or so Hermione liked to think. She knew she certainly hadn't found Ron's sudden change in behaviour encouraging at all, and so their budding relationship had sort of faded back into comfortable friendship. Or as comfortable as could be between them, fighting was really more their thing after all.

It had hurt for a time, but she supposed they were better off this way.

Still, it annoyed her somewhat how much they had both changed, even if she had too, but it happened as they had both entered the Auror training programme enthusiastically, ready to take on the world again, like true heroes and get revenge on remaining Death Eaters. She had no plans of joining them, despite their eagerness to get her to join their team. No, she had other plans in mind.

If you wanted to change the world, you needed to get to the bottom of it all, not charging forward with all muscle and no brains. She had realised laws needed to be changed before anything else.

Not to mention the prejudice lingering around had to be abolished in order for everyone to move on.

She would do as Dumbledore had begun before her, be smart and cunning, change things from the inside. And she was on to a good start with her N.E.W.T scores, but then she had gone and ruined it by her damnable curiosity.

Somehow, she wasn't quite sure how the idea had come to mind, but she had gotten it into her head that taking a Grand Tour of the world, an old wizarding tradition forgotten as the world had changed, would be the perfect way to conclude the end of her studies.

How utterly wrong she had been.

Which brought her back to the present – if you could even call it that.

She was looking at the man who even the great Albus Dumbledore was said to have feared once upon a time.

Said to have loved.

With a ginormous emphasis on 'long before her time'.

Staring wide-eyed, deer caught in the headlights expression, she was looking up at none other than a young Gellert Grindelwald from her kneeling position on the cold stone floor, a man she had previously only seen in pictures.

Pictures from a very, very long time ago.

But here in front of her chocolate brown eyes, was a man she knew to be dead after years of imprisonment in Nurmengard, ironic it may be as it was his own prison, and in old age killed by Lord Voldemort.

Then how in Merlin's name was it possible for him to sit there, surprised blue eyes scrutinizing her intently and perusing her figure shamelessly?

Her gaze went to the opened pocket watch in her hand, faded initials engraved and etched into the dented golden surface abraded by time and usage. She could barely make out a curvy G on the front side of the watch, and she nearly cursed herself when she realized the antique pocket watch must have been the cause.

Well fuck.

She was completely screwed, wasn't she? Of all the stupid ignorant things to do…

The Kneazle had just about gone and committed suicide.

"Bloody hell."

TBC…

AN: Ugh. I should be working on my other story, yet here I find myself starting a new one. Unbelievable. I partially blame my overactive imagination and extremely energized plot bunnies. I think they must be multiplying, the plot bunnies I mean.

Oh, well… I hope you liked the prologue. I shall update whenever.

PS. Something has bothered me for a while: why is there only one Gellert/Hermione story in 's archive? Well, two now…