Summary: A new generation beggings. And with this new generation comes new characters, new adventures and new mysteries. Trouble seems to follow even the Potter children as Albus learns that Hogwart might house more then just books and spells.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter Books, or anything that you might find in them.

– CHAPTER ONE –

KILLIAN'S CLOSE

It was well pass midnight and the streets of Edinburgh had little life to it. The bright full moon gave the Royal Mile an eery and haunted atmosphere. A man wearing a cape guided a group of turists through the streets, telling chilling tales of the city. Some girls in the group giggled nervously as they passed a gated close. A CRACK echoed from beyond the gates, but the group was now too far to have noticed.

Hermione stood in the shadows of the narrow entry. She was immidietly assalted by cold air of the night. She cursed herself for not bringing a her travelling cloak, she should have known, with the end of August came the cold air. At least it wasn't raining. Hermione released her hair from the bun she wore letting it fall in elegant curls down midway her back, this should keep her neck a little more protected. She looked down the close, opposite way of the gate, she could see it opened into a courtyard. With fast steps she made her way down the path, her arms around her slim body, attempting to keep warm. Hermione wanted to get this done quickly, she had a six-month baby to get back to. Her mind wandered to Rosie, she had to drop her out at Ginny's after Ron had sent her a disturbing message concerning Harry. She prayed he was wrong.

The clancks of her heals stopped as she reached the courtyard. Old buildings surrounded the square, and in front of her, a few meter away was a man she recognised as Harry. Harry stood in front of a great stone staircase that as it reached the second floor it divided into two, at the end of either stairs was large oakwood doors and above them, carved in the stone read "BOYS" and "GIRLS". On the very top of the building, above the 4rd floor was a Clock telling her it was 3 in the morning. Underneath the clock, in an elegant iron sign, it read "St. Clair's Home For Children". There was no light in the square but the moon above them, giving the place a chilling atmosphere.

"Harry." She called louder then she anticipated, but in the dead silent of the night even a whisper would sound like a scream. Harry turned around, she could see the surprised features of his face in seeing her there, on his arms was a bundle of cloth. "Ron told me. He sent me a message. He told me what you were doing…"

"I'm not taking chances, Hermione. It's better like this. I couldn't forgive myself if something happened…" Harry's voice was hoarce, she could sense doubt in his voice, and she could tell he was trying more to convince himself that this was the right thing to do.

Hermione sighted, forgetting about the cold. She crossed the courtyard, stepping closer to Harry, she manage to see a small face in the bundles he was carrying. She looked at him, locking her brown eyes into his green. She knew. She knew Harry saw himself in the kid. "How old is she?"

"A day. Maybe two. No more that a week, though." He answered steadly.

"How did she survive?" Hermine looked back at the small baby. She was smaller than Rose had been when she was born. A small smiled played on her lips at the memory.

"Don't know. And no scars either." He gave a half hearted laugh, Hermione smiled at it.

"Does she have a name?" Hermione took the baby from Harry, who willingly gave in.

"If she did, they didn't write it down."

"We could name her. We could protect her, Harry." She plead him.

"She's muggle, Hermione." Harry smiled at his friend's kind heart, "She doesn't belong with us."

"She'll never know her parents."

"And no one will ever know about her." He said breathing out. She looked at him as he looked at the child. He was more sure now of what had to be done then when he arrived. Hermione could tell he made up his mind. "It's the only way we can really protect her."

"Harry, you don't even know who you're protecting her from. You don't even know if she needs protection." Hermione could see clearly why Harry had chosen to do this, it was easy to see, but she needed him to be sure. Condeming a child to a life of not knowing her family wasn't something to be taken lightly.

"The entire case is just filled with loose ends. An entire muggle family dead. No signs of tortures, just well aimed killing curses. When he entered that house the plan was to not let anyone leave." Harry's hand ran through his hair in exasperation. "The Hemimsworth weren't your standerd muggles either. They must have pissed someone off." He mumbled quietly.

Hermione looked at the man before her. He was suffering with the choice. He had alreay made up his mind, but he was still struggling. She looked at him as he let out a desperate breath and turned towards the moon, as if waiting for the answer. The baby stirred slightly in her arms. She knew what Harry was thinking, she was thinking the same thing. If Dumbledor had done this with Harry, if he had kept Harry's survival a secret, what would have changed? He wouldn't have been famous. There wouldn't have been a boy who lived. Voldemort would have never seeked him out when he needed his blood to make a new body. He would have never returned. "Had a lot of secrets, the Heminsworth?" Hermione asked calmly, she too had made up her mind.

"And it's seems like it all died with them." Harry nodded , he was tired, she could tell. He also had a baby waiting for him at home.

Hermione adjusted the baby in her arms – she was heavy for her size – and walked passed Harry towards the staircase. Harry followed her with his eyes. "Well then, let's make sure this secret does as well." Holding the baby with one arm she took out her wand and conjured a moses basket, placing the baby inside. She went all the way up to the door under the GIRLS sign, and left the baby there. Harry watched her from the bottom of the stairs, a mixture of relief and doubt show on his face, but Hermione's reassuring look calmed him down.

They left Killian's Close together, leaving behind a nameless baby in a basket. They left knowing that from that moment on they wouldn't be able to recognize her anymore. She had no name, no stricking features…no one would ever know about the survivor of the Heminsworth Murder.