I own nothing except myself.
Chapter One: The Call
When Harry returned from the graveyard, Hermione knew that the shit was about to hit the fan. She was sorry that no one believed her best friend about the return of Voldemort and had decided when she began helping him for the Tri-wizard that she would find a way to help him no matter what. She had discovered, during the year of training for the tournament that she loved Harry more than she loved almost anyone else, her parents being the only people she loved more (and that was up for debate). As a result, Hermione's analytical mind had decided that she would do anything within her power to help Harry, but she also realized quite quickly after the tournament that she would have to do something about her parents. Her thoughts derailed themselves as she approached the doors to the hospital wing, the sound of voices drawing her attention and reminding her of a lesson from long ago.
"Mia, information is the single most important thing in the world, as well as the most powerful thing in the world, use it wisely, collect it wisely and remember: no matter how smart you are you will always need someone you trust."
Any guilt that the young girl may have felt for eavesdropping were alleviated and she listened silently as those she thought would be the greatest help in the coming war turned out to be little more than a chess master and his pawns.
BREAK
"Potter needs to be trained Albus! If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, and I think the boy is right about that, then the boy needs to be trained!"
"He will not be trained until I deem it appropriate Alastor. Besides, it won't matter if he is trained for in the end he will have to die."
Hermione heard someone coughing sharply, Alastor, whoever that was, as she placed her hand over her mouth and bit down so that she would not scream in outrage.
"Wh-what? Albus, he is just a boy! His potential is unbelievable; what do you mean that he will have to die?"
"Harry is too powerful even with his downtrodden nature. I had hoped that the Dursleys would be able to make him more manageable, but his magic has counteracted much of what they had accomplished. I cannot allow someone who will eventually have the power to defeat even me to survive. I also cannot allow you to remember any of this. Oblivate!"
Hermione bit down harder and slunk into a nearby alcove when she realized that Dumbledore was heading her way. She struggled to keep quiet as the man she had revered stopped briefly near her hiding place, one eyebrow cocked with suspicion, before he continued down the hallway, his 'grandfatherly' mask well in place as he disappeared down the corridor. Hermione wasted no time in getting into the infirmary and sitting beside Harry's bed, her eyes filling with tears as she looked at her best friend. He was battered, his arm bandaged, his scar still an angry red where it had been bleeding. He had not told her anything yet, she had not even gotten to speak to him between his arrival with Cedric's body and his admittance to the infirmary, but she knew that she believed him when he had shouted that Voldemort had returned. Now she had to figure out how to help him win the war that they were about to be forced into. She began to talk, softly and absently to the unconscious boy in the bed beside her, her hand softly stroking his as she mused aloud.
"What can we do Harry? The Headmaster has decided that you are already too powerful and he doesn't plan to train you at all! He's a despicable old man, I can't believe that he would oblivate a retired auror! I – I don't know what to do…"
Her voice faded as her panic rose, but a voice in the back of her mind, a voice that she hadn't heard in years, echoed softly, stilling her panic and giving her a new sense of purpose. She sat up, squeezed Harry's hand in hers and slowly got to her feet.
"We're going to do this ourselves. I will get us the help that we need and if we have to raze their hide holes to the ground, we will. Don't worry Harry, I've got an idea."
The teenage girl leaned down and softly kissed her best friend on the cheek, her own face growing hot as she did so, before she turned and walked out of the infirmary, never noticing the fact that the old man with a spinning, bright blue eye had heard every word and now had an interested expression across his face.
"Mia, you're moving to England with your parents, but we want you to know that no matter what, if you need our help for any reason at all you just need to call us. We will help you with whatever it is that you need help with because we're family and dammit, family comes first."