Infelix Felicis

Chapter 1: Bad Luck Begins

Hermione Granger hadn't had the best luck since the war ended. It wasn't as if things were going so badly, really, but they certainly weren't going the way she'd planned. And for Hermione, that was pretty much the same thing.

After the war, she'd helped the Order begin the repairs on Hogwarts and Hogsmeade before setting off to Australia to try to find her parents. It had been hard work, following the trail of the apparently avid travelers that she had created on the day she lost them. Three months into her search, she lost the trail of Wendell and Monica Wilkins and had no idea how to find it again. She fell to her knees in the middle of a suburban street and cried until she noticed homeowners peeking through their curtains at her. Worried they would call the police, Hermione returned to her hotel, disheveled and puffy-eyed. She'd been meant to find them ages ago, and she was no closer now, at the end of September, than she had been when she started in July. It didn't mean that she wouldn't find them. But it was a much more difficult task than she had anticipated. Realizing that it would be foolish to continue alone without any idea where to look, Hermione returned to England to ask for help.

With nowhere to go after her return from Australia, Hermione moved back into the Burrow. She'd planned on returning to live with her parents for a while, as they readjusted to their real lives again, but when she'd been unable to find Monica and Wendell Wilkins, the thought of returning alone to her childhood home alone felt like lead in her stomach. Upon her return, Mrs. Weasley made it perfectly clear, in that demanding but motherly way of hers, that Hermione would always be welcome at the Burrow, even for a more permanent stay, so Hermione moved into the twins' old room and began to adjust her plans.

To start, she'd have to make arrangements to have her parents located. Then she could get a job and get started on making a difference in the magical world.

A few days after her return from Australia, Hermione set up a meeting with Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had retained the title of Minister of Magic after the war. Swallowing the pride that had led her to set out to find her parents on her own, she requested the Ministry's help. After she'd explained her reasoning for modifying their memories and sending them to Australia in the first place, Kingsley had agreed. Whether out of fondness for Hermione or to begin repaying the debt that Britain's magical society owed the Golden Trio she wasn't sure, but Hermione was grateful for any help that she could get.

The lead weight that had dropped into her stomach when she returned from Australia seemed to have grown with each passing day. It was becoming unbearable – she needed to find them. But with the Ministry's help, the search was bound to go quickly. Her parents would be back in no time. He would contact the Australian Ministry and have them begin a search for Hermione's parents. And then they could be a family again.

"I can't thank you enough, Kingsley," she said, shaking his hand at the end of the meeting. "Now I can put my focus into those Ministry applications that I've been putting off!"

Kingsley, for his part, looked surprised and a little abashed as he responded. "Hermione, all Ministry jobs require N.E.W.T.s. You knew that, didn't you? You'll have to finish at Hogwarts before you can apply for a job here."

Hermione spluttered, struggling to find anything to say to the Minister.

It wasn't that she didn't like school, obviously. She was Hermione Granger, bookworm, after all. It wasn't that she wanted special treatment. But she didn't think she could go back to Hogwarts so soon. Not after she'd seen Tonks and Remus and Lavender…

"Minister, I thought that my contributions to the war would count for something," she pleaded. Special treatment or no, Hermione did not want to go back and see the ghosts of people they'd lost haunting one of her favorite places in the magical world.

"And they will count. When you have the proper qualifications, you'll be able to get whatever job you like. But until then, I can't help you. I'm sorry, Hermione, but my hands are tied on this one."

It had taken all of Hermione's energy to hold it together as she made her way down the Ministry's corridors, to the lift, to the fireplaces lining the atrium. But hold it together she did. Until she got to the Burrow, that is.

When the fireplace spit her out onto the Weasley's eclectic living room furniture, Hermione collapsed onto the nearest armchair, crying. She'd cried more since losing her parents' trail than she had since her first year at Hogwarts when she'd had no friends. But the stresses of the war, her losses, and of the start of her adult life were catching up to her. Which is why, when Fred and George Weasley arrived in their parents' living room, the first thing they saw was Hermione in tears.

They exchanged one of their twin looks and quietly crouched on either side of Hermione's armchair.

"Hermione," Fred whispered, nudging her shaking shoulder.

"Who do we need to hex?" George continued.

"If it's Ickle Ronniekins again…"

"We can take care of that little git, no problem!"

Hermione, now caught somewhere between laughing and crying, raised her head off her arms enough to look at the twins and shake her head.

"Not Ron. Kingsley," she mumbled before dropping her head again.

"The Minister!"

"Might be tough, Mione."

"We'll have to consult our sources, Gred."

"See what we can do, Forge."

"Can't have the Minister of Magic walking around breaking teenage girls' hearts, now can we?"

This time, Hermione sat up, rubbing her cheeks roughly with the heel of her hand and glaring at Fred and George.

"I don't know that I like what you're implying, boys."

"And what might that be, dearest Hermione?" Fred asked with the most innocent smile he could muster.

Hermione harrumphed and crossed her arms. "What are you even doing here?" she asked as the twins snickered.

"Wanted to nick some food from mum. Didn't feel like cooking tonight," George replied. He stood and made his way to the kitchen, leaving Hermione behind with the still-smirking Fred.

"Aren't you two supposed to be adults or something?" Hermione said, leaning her head back to stare at the ceiling.

"What's the fun in that?" Fred responded. When Hermione didn't reply, he continued. "What's the Minister gone and done then?"

Without taking her eyes from the crack in the ceiling, Hermione explained what had happened at her visit to the Ministry.

"It's not that I blame him! It's not his fault – N.E.W.T.s have always been required for Ministry positions. I just thought—"

"You just thought that, as the brightest witch of your age and a war hero, they'd give you a break for once in your life. They should have. You certainly deserve one," Fred interrupted quietly.

Hermione sighed and finally met his eyes. "I just don't want to go back there."

She didn't look like she was going to cry anymore, but Fred had never seen Hermione look so haunted. She quickly shook her head and once again she was the determined bookworm he'd always known.

"And term's already begun – I'll be so behind! It's not like I can really count on Harry or Ron to tutor me."

Fred snorted at the thought of his youngest brother teaching Hermione much of anything at all. No, if she went back to Hogwarts, she'd have to catch up on her own. Not that it would be much of a challenge for Hermione. She'd probably been studying for her N.E.W.T.s since her fourth year.

"Ah well if your booming Ministry career doesn't pan out for you, we can always use an extra hand with potions and charms over at the shop," George told her from the doorway. "Ready, Forge? I've got us some rations to get us through the evening!"

"Right-o. We'll be off then! Cheer up, Hermione. Your luck's bound to change for the better!"

But it wasn't. And it didn't. Unfortunately, Hermione Granger's bad luck was just beginning.