A/N - This story is something I have been thinking about for a while, and I really think Hermione has the brain capacity to see that there is not only a good side using pure magic and an evil side using dark magic. Sometimes, the lines have to blur a little. Sometimes the end justifies the means. Sometimes there is necessary evil.

This story begins a few days before the trio's 7th year starts, during the summer. I am going to sort of pick and chose what I want to stay true from canon in the past 6 books, though most of it will stay the same as the first 6 books, but not the 7th book, obviously. Enjoy, and let me know what you think. If you see any mistakes, it's because it isn't beta'd so please just send a review letting me know and I will fix it. (Speaking of which thanks Nomrabbit, I already fixed the mistakes you mentioned).

P.S. The spells and potions you see in here DO actually exist in the Harry Potter world, I did a bit of researching. If you don't see it in the 7 books, it is part of her other published works that involves Harry Potter (Ex: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and The Tales of Beedle the Bard)

Hermione stared down at the book before her and frowned. She was sitting Indian style on her bed at her parents' home and the book was splayed out across her lap and there were many other books that surrounded her, on the bed and on the floor, all open to some random page so she could cross reference things as she read. All around her room, there were many strange smells wafting towards her, although at this point they all seemed to meld together. Potions of many different colors, textures, and kinds were bubbling in twelve different cauldrons around her room. Some of them were finished potions that had been placed under a stasis spell until she could be bothered to deal with them; however, some were very temperamental and required constant surveillance and additional ingredients. There was only three days until Hogwarts started up again, and she was trying to cram in as much information as she could before classes would take over her life and homework would once again begin to bog her down. She was not currently doing her summer reading or homework, because she had done that within the first two weeks of being back at home for the summer. Alas, she had begun yet another project, being the go-getter (know-it-all) that she was. Her brow furrowed once more and she brought the heavy tome that rested at her right and dropped it on top of the other in her lap. She flipped back a few pages and found the section she was looking for. She squinted at the pages, as her eyesight was beginning to suffer from the hours and hours of reading she had done that night.

"A witch or wizard's emotional state can affect their inherent abilities."

Hermione knew this to be true, and she thought back to Harry telling her about Merope Gaunt who showed no magical prowess until removed from the oppressive nature of her father, allowing fear (and possibly inbreeding) to cover up her magic. Then of course there was Tonks, whose Patronus changed form when she was unnecessarily shunned by Professor Lupin, due to her sadness. Not to mention all the spells and curses that require a certain emotion or mindset before they can be used; the Patronus, Crucio, the killing curse, and many others. She continued reading and stopped at another sentence shortly after:

"Arguably the most powerful form of magic is also the most mysterious and elusive: love."

This was of particular interest to Hermione as the former headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, had seemed a little too keen on the fact that love was the power that Harry had that Voldemort had not. Of course in the sappy sense, love was important in everyday life, for people to be happy, for parents to love their children, and of course for reproducing young witches and wizards. Hermione's mind was in complete "calculation mode", as she called it, where she looked at everything through a researcher's perspective. But what was so important about love for the final battle? Of course it had saved Harry from his death when he was just a baby, when his mother's love had saved him from an almost certain fate. It seemed silly to Hermione though, that this would help much in the final battle, and while it struck her as important that Voldemort's parents had never been in love, as Merope had given Tom Riddle Sr. Amortentia to make him fall for her, it seemed trivial to pursue this line of thinking. Perhaps she would come across some potions or spells in another book that could lead her to a better answer, but for now she would skip this section for more practical ways to defeat Voldemort. She knew that the exact nature of how "love-magic" works is unknown, but she did know that it was studied at the Department of Mysteries, which was beyond her current resources at the moment. The sweet smell of Amortentia floated through her nostrils suddenly, and she got up to check on one of her brewing potions, possibly the most dangerous one in the room.

While she stirred, she thought. Hermione hoped that she had gotten Harry and Ron to see reason at the end of last year on the train ride back to Kings Cross Station. She had implored them, begged really, to see reason. Harry had less than a year before he was of age and things were about to become much more dangerous. He really needed to start thinking about what it truly meant to be 'The Chosen One'. He was the one that was supposed to fight Voldemort and finish him off and it was sure as hell going to take a lot more than one or two Expelliarmus' to defeat him. Harry and Ron had told her that yes of course they would look through the books she gave them on the train, and yes of course they would study up because it was really important. But she wasn't so sure she believed them. They were still growing up, of course, but that did not mean that they did not have responsibilities to uphold. All three of them were still not allowed in The Order, as per Molly Weasley's request, but Hermione's birthday was only 3 weeks away, on September 19th, and she sure as hell wasn't going to wait around any longer than that very day to join the order. And there was nothing anyone could do to stop her.

So here she was, studying up on every book she had ever owned and then some, having snuck off to Diagon Alley twice this summer to procure more books for herself, the subjects of her studies becoming more and more obscure as time progressed. She knew far more spells than many of the other students knew already by the end of the last year, but after having three months to practice many more spells that weren't even studied in Hogwarts, Hermione felt almost sad to be going back to school. This is not to say that she didn't WANT to go back to school, because Hermione Granger really was a know-it-all at heart, but it wasn't because she wanted to show up everyone in her classes like most people thought. It was primarily because what was the point in not knowing? Especially when war was upon them. In her opinion, remaining ignorant was just like a muggle going into war with a butter knife, when if he had just practiced enough or looked hard enough, he would have found that machine gun just barely hidden in that pile of junk in the shed.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. It was already 1 AM and she had gotten up at 6 AM that day to clean the house and then eaten lunch and got down to business on her studying. Wendell and Monica Wilkins, as her parents were now known, were still residing in Australia under their modified memory charm that Hermione had bestowed upon them guiltily, to protect them from Voldemort's wrath. They may as well have lost their baby girl when she went off into the magical world when she was only 11, though, and at least this protected them from harm, and allowed her to get as much done at their empty home (well empty except for Hermione and many, many repelling and protection charms) in as little time as possible without interruption.

Hermione had visited Grimmauld place several times over the summer to visit everyone and to beseech Molly and the other members to just let her join already, as she would be of age very soon. Alas, they would have none of it, which would always lead to Hermione leaving in a huff. No matter, it would happen soon enough and then that would be that. The Amortentia spell could be bottled tomorrow anyway and only needed to simmer for another fourteen hours before it would be in its prime condition to bottle. She would be bottling that as well as six other potions tomorrow and the other five the day after, which is exactly how she planned it. The following day she would be off to the Kings Cross Station and to begin her last year at Hogwarts.

The next day her alarm went off at precisely 7 am and she yawned sleepily, but quickly hopped up and jumped in the shower. She was naturally a morning person, much to the dismay of Harry and Ron, who in her opinion would likely sleep their life away if it weren't for her harassing them constantly to get moving. When she stepped out of her shower she heard the telltale signs of an owl tap-tapping on her window. She walked over to the window in her thick, white, fluffy towel and unlatched the window, allowing what appeared to be one of the school owls in. It perched on top of her lamp which made her frown a bit in annoyance. She gave it one of the bird treats she had stashed on her dresser and used a letter opener to break the waxy maroon Hogwarts seal on the letter. The letter was addressed to her from the Headmistress.

"Miss Hermione Granger,

I must say I was surprised to receive your owl yesterday. I had thought that you would have been thrilled at the prospect of being the Head Girl this year. However, I do understand where you are coming from and I am very proud that you want to take such an initiative in helping Mr. Potter with his quest, although I can see where you will have your work cut out for you on that matter. I have given the position to another girl, but please know that I think you would have made a wonderful Head Girl.

P.S. I hope you have managed to register yourself rather than trying to hide from the rules like a certain Daily Prophet reporter.

Looking forward to seeing you on September 1st,

Minerva McGonagall

Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Hermione chuckled warmly to herself as she opened the window back up to allow the large barn owl to escape out the window before locking the latch once more. There would be no need for a response to this letter, as she would be seeing the Headmistress in just a few days time. It was true; McGonagall had offered her the Head Girl position, which was something that Hermione had only dreamed about since she was a first year. In hindsight it seemed only obvious that Hermione would be offered the badge, though she tried to remain open-minded in case she didn't receive it after all. Of course, she knew she had the best grades in the school and she wasn't a total pompous ass like most of the Slytherin girls were. She also had a relatively friendly demeanor and was very fair-minded (usually), so she supposed it was only natural that the position would come to her. And while her heart swelled with pride upon seeing the offer in the mail a few days ago, she almost immediately let out a sigh and got out a spare bit of parchment to write her letter of declination.

Indeed, while she would have loved to fulfill those duties bestowed upon her, she just honestly didn't think she had the time this year. Not only would she be studying up on every known magical spell, curse, hex, potion, and other strange matters of magic she could think of in her spare time, she would also have to be harassing Harry and Ron about it, doing homework, going to classes, and studying for her NEWTS at the end of the year. Not to mention that she had begun the process of transforming herself into an animal, a process known as becoming and Animagus (this was the registration McGonagall was referring to, of course). That is, if something outrageous didn't happen before the end of the year, as was apt to happen. Of course this offer was one in a million or, okay, one in all the females in her year at least, chance and would surely be great to put on her resume for after school, it just wasn't the practical thing to do at the moment. If Hermione was anything, it was practical.

She stowed the letter on top of her dresser and proceeded to get dressed. She returned to her potions and began to siphon the finished ones into little vials where she would keep them in her new potions carrier that she picked up from her last trip to Diagon Alley. To be honest she had actually had to go a bit into Knockturn Alley to get this because she couldn't find one in all of Diagon Alley, which she thought was preposterous. She had seven potions to finish up and siphon off into many vials, over the next six hours.

The first was a Beatification Potion. A Beautification Potion transforms the appearance of the drinker, making them seem to be attractive, even if they are not. This potion was a last minute decision of Hermione's, because although she scoffed at why most people would use it, it seemed like it could come in handy for one reason or another, if not just to get answers out of some weak minded man who only thought about looks and his own desires.

The second was a Befuddlement Draught. A Befuddlement Draught is a type of potion which causes the drinker to become belligerent and reckless. She added the last bit of Sneezewort and waited until it gave off a strange squeal before she started her collection. There was also, of course, a reasonably simple befuddlement hex that could be performed in its stead, but this was just in case she couldn't cast the spell unknowingly or perhaps didn't have her wand. Better safe than sorry, at any rate.

The third was a standard blood replenishing potion, because after all, when would you know when you'd need one of those?

The fourth was Bundimun Secretion (or Bundimun Ooze) which is a magical substance, produced by the Bundimun, known to be an extremely acidic substance that can rot a building's structure. When diluted, the secretions of the Bundimun are known to be used in some magical cleaning products. Although, it could be presumed that Hermione wasn't brewing this for some light cleaning.

The fifth was the Draught of Living Death. The potion was lilac in color before she stirred it counter-clockwise seven times and clockwise once and watched as the color became lighter and lighter until it resembled the clear shade of water. The Draught of Living Death was a very strong sleeping potion meant to mimic the state of death. 'This could certainly come in handy at one point,' Hermione thought to herself.

The sixth was the antidote to the above potion, The Wiggenweld Potion. They never learned to brew this in school and she wondered why. The dittany she had to procure for this had cost her more than she'd cared to admit, so that was probably one reason it wasn't given freely to students.

The seventh and trickiest to brew in its final stages was of course, Amortentia. Although, as Hermione hadn't had much else to do over the summer besides trying to hover around order meetings, sass Harry and Ron, and study, she had correctly brewed the potion with painstaking attention to detail. She successfully siphoned the rest of it up and scourgified the cauldron it had once been in. She placed the last of her now-full vials into her potions container and wiped the back of her hand across her sweaty forehead. Her room smelled absolutely horrendous, and she went to open the windows before stepping out of her bedroom and jumping in the shower once more as she smelled like dung beetles and many other things that no one, except perhaps Severus Snape, wanted to smell like.

When she was done she popped off the kitchen for some much needed lunch and fed her very hungry and irritated half-kneazle, Crookshanks. He was used to being fed much earlier, but it must have slipped her mind this morning, much to his chagrin. She patted his head lovingly and he gave her the stink-eye.

She had thought about taking a nice walk outside this afternoon, but as she looked outside she saw that dark, ominous looking clouds were beginning to quickly move in from the East and a storm was surely brewing. She sighed deeply once more, for what seemed like the fiftieth time that day. If only things were easy. If only there were no bad side and no good side and no one wanted to fight each other. If only, if only. The clouds were having a depressing effect on her mood as she stared out her kitchen window for longer than she intended to, waiting for the first droplet to hit her window pane as she fell deeper into her thoughts. She knew this battle wouldn't be easy, and although she really did like to learn, she really didn't want to be doing this on her own. She knew Harry would need Ron and herself as much, if not more than, the rest of the order. She really wished they would take this more seriously, but if they wouldn't, she certainly would.

As the first droplet of water fell from the darkened sky, she retreated once more to her bedroom and opened up a very large and very old book. It was so old, in fact, that the back cover had completely fallen off and the title wasn't even readable. This book was the only one she had not opened all summer, actually. It had rested quietly, not exactly forgotten about, but more-so avoided, in the far corner of her room for two months now. She listened to the quiet bubbling and hissing sounds of the remaining five potions in her room and the pitter-patter of rain drops hitting her bedroom window as she opened up this last book. She had gotten it at the spur of the moment seven or eight weeks ago. She saw it in the dirty window of the shop that lies on the corner of the intersection of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley. It was a debatably dark shop, but as it lay so close to Diagon Alley, only a few people gave her shifty looks as she walked inside to retrieve the book. She knew she could be messing with something dark here, but the stormy gray clouds outside were influencing her mood, and what could a little bit of research harm?