AN
Thank you to the Guest who reviewed and told me about a major error I had made in the timeline. Originally I had listed Umbridge as the DADA teacher. I somehow managed to get the fifth and sixth years messed up in my head. I have fixed the error now, and so hopefully I dont make another mistake like that again. If so, just let me know. Also, let me know what you think of the story as it progresses. I was thinking of updating every second Sunday from now on.

Hope you guys like it!

When all was said and done, it was her father who had done it. He was the one who wound up forcing the decision she had made. He was the one who had lied to her her ENTIRE life. He was the one who had made her feel like she was nothing more than gum on the bottom of an aristocratic shoe.

Her entire life was a lie truth be told. Everything she thought she was, a lie. All because her father couldn't accept the truth about himself. All because he had thought he had known better.

Hermione stood out the front of Malfoy Manor cold determination written on her face. When she had told Harry and Ron they had laughed at her, actually LAUGHED at her!

"It must have been a dream, 'Mione. I always have dreams that seem real." Ron had said with a mouth full of food once he had calmed down.

"Are you sure you did the spell correctly 'Mione? It was the first time you had done it after all." Harry said after a mouthful of pumpkin juice.

She huffed, her breath coming out in a cloud of fog in the late January air. It had been months since she had first cast the spell on herself. The spell that confirmed her father and mother weren't muggle after all. That her father had obliviated her mother to keep her hidden from her true family. The father who had let his only daughter get bullied throughout her early schooling for being a freak. The father who had hugged her as she cried when she explained how prejudiced children at her new school were because her parents were muggles.

She was just so damned angry!

Hermione had come home from her fifth year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her memories were still fresh of the battle at the Ministry of Magic. She had spent the first week in her room, only coming down for meals. They had made it out alive. All but Sirius. She felt she had failed him somehow because she was the smart one. She was the one who was supposed to be able to help everyone. One of the last connections Harry had to his parents gone.

She had read everything she could on the Veil of Death. The only living things to come out of it were the Dementors. When she had read that piece of information she shivered. She couldn't tell Harry that. It would ruin him knowing his Godfather might come back like that.

Her father had come upstairs to talk to her not long after she had discovered that piece of information. He asked her why she was locking herself away, and Hermione had finally broken down and told him. She told him all about the battle. About Voldermort returning and about Sirius' death and how broken she felt.

He had remained silent the whole time and had flinched when she had called Voldermort his real name. When she had finished her father had just sat there in silence.

Finally, he sighed and looked her in the eye. "Hermione, there is something I have been meaning to tell you for a very long time."

Hermione looked up at her father with confusion. His face looked pained as he went on to explain.

"Your mother and I, we aren't who you think we are. You aren't who you think you are. My father was Morfin Gaunt. My mother was Nemesis Carrow. I was born out of wedlock while my father was still in prison, and I was born a squib. Your mother's real name is Norma Black. When I asked for your mother's hand, your grandfather challenged me to a duel. I lost, but your mother came with me anyway. Your grandmother obliviated all memories of the wizarding world from your mother so she would not return."

Hermione sat in stunned silence as her father told his tale. He continued.

"We got married not long after, I had managed to change my name surname to Granger and had taken John as my first name, so as to hope no one could track us down. I knew if my cousin found us, we would all be slaughtered.

"When I found out your mother was pregnant with you, I was so happy but so scared. I hoped you would be like me, a squib, so you wouldn't have to worry about Hogwarts and the politics of the wizarding world. But when you were two, there was a storm, and you were so scared. You made all of your toys float up against your bedroom window to block out the lightening. I was terrified of how the world would react to you knowing your heritage. I was scared of how the students would treat you knowing your cousin, my cousin was The Dark Lord. So I kept it secret."

Hermione blinked once. Then twice. Then she laughed. She laughed so hard she felt tears well in her eyes. "Oh, dad! That's a good one! You should have saved that one for April Fool's Day! Where did you get all that information from? Was Harry in on this?"

Mr. Granger just shook his head. "I'm not making jokes, Hermione. Next time you are at Grimmauld Place, have a look at the Black family tree. You will see where your mother was blasted off."

"You aren't kidding, are you Dad?" Hermione said in a soft whisper, her body suddenly beginning to shake. "You actually believe all this don't you?"

"I don't just believe it, I know it. I lived it for long enough before I came to live as a muggle."

Hermione just stared at her father. "Out. Get out. Now." Her voice was deceptively calm.

Her father just nodded then rose to leave. As he neared the door, Hermione shot a Tickling Charm at her father. It bounced right off his back. Hermione gasped.

"I can do some accidental magic you know. I've just never been able to control it. The product of my father's side of the family loving to reproduce amongst themselves I suspect." Mr. Granger said in a disappointed tone.

He stepped out of the room and closed the door.

Hermione just sat on her bed for several minutes in silence. Then she did the only thing she could do, she researched.

Her father couldn't be telling the truth that just wasn't possible. This must have been some kind of prank that was being pulled between her father and Harry or something. Harry must have cast some kind of spell knowing Hermione would try and disprove her father's story. It was all very thoroughly planned. Possibly the twins had something to do with it too, it stank of their treachery.

For the next few days, all Hermione did was read. Someone had brought her meals up to her door for her and took the empty dishes when she was done. She just couldn't bring herself to face her father right now. It was all too much.

Two weeks before they were to return for their sixth year at Hogwarts, Hermione received an owl from Harry and Ron, inviting her to the Burrow.

She sent back a quick message saying she would be there tonight, and that she had big news to tell them. Then she quickly packed and left. She didn't even say goodbye to anyone. Her father, in particular, deserved no kind of respect from her.

She decided to ask Mrs. Weasley first if she had any books on wizarding genealogy. The Weasley's might not be the best pureblood wizards in the world, but they were still a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. This generation might not put much thought into that, but previous ones might have.

"I can have a look, sweetheart. I think Arthur may have gotten rid of most of them, though. The man should have been born a muggle I swear!"

Hermione smiled and thanked the kindly woman. Later that evening she brought a few books up to the room Hermione shared with Ginny.

"Here you go dear. Found these in the bottom of one of my chests in the attic. They are Prewett books, mostly family spells and the like, but you are more than welcome to learn them. Merlin forbid I let any of my children attempt some of them!" Mrs. Weasley said as she placed the books down at the foot of Hermione's bed. "Can I ask dear, why are you so interested in this?"

Hermione thought about telling her the truth for the moment. Then she thought against it. No point in worrying everyone unnecessarily. "I'm just taking an interest in wizarding family history." The lie was bitter on Hermione's tongue. "Can never learn too much."

Mrs. Weasley gave her a heartwarming smile and patted her bushy hair. "You are right there, Hermione. Keep the books as long as you need. They were just gathering dust otherwise."

Hermione spent the rest of the night reading through the books, finding nothing more interesting than family cleaning spells. As the sun was beginning to rise on the horizon, she finally found something that could help.

Nacti Puritas

This most powerful spell will help distinguish a child of the Old Ones. The Old Ones are the purest of lines, families who can trace their line back as far as time can go. Very few families can claim their heritage to be that old, but the Prewitt's, along with the Malfoy's, Blacks, and several other prominent families can lay claim to this heritage. Just point the wand at oneself and chant Nacti Puritas three times. A blue light from the tip of one's wand shows a familial connection to these families, a red light shows no connection, and a violet light shows you are the descendant of two joined lines. A brown light will shine if a muggleborn should try this spell.

Hermione read the verse several times before taking out her wand. Aiming it at her sternum, she whispered the incantation three times just as the instructions told her to.

The light shined violet.

Hermione stayed up in her shared room for the rest of the day, pain and confusion spreading through her body. If she needed any further proof that what her father had said to her was true, then that was it.

She was related to that MONSTER that was attempting to kill her best friend. He was her cousin! And the fact that her father had been so nonchalant about it… as if every parent told their child they were related to the darkest wizard of all time!

It was later that evening when Harry and Rn had come upstairs with food for her. That was when she had told them. That was when they had laughed.

She felt as if she had been betrayed by everyone. How was she supposed to help that this was happening to her? They acted as if Harry was the only one who was able to have problems in their life.

She spent the remainder of the holidays to herself after that, coming down for meals when needed, but otherwise wandering the open fields that surrounded the Burrow or sitting in her room. No one even seemed to notice her odd behavior, and that bothered her even more.

She kept to herself as they sat on the Hogwarts Express for their sixth year, her head in one of the new textbooks. Maybe they just thought it best to leave her alone as she was studying. However, they never bothered leaving her alone to study before. Maybe they thought she was going insane. She definitely felt like she was going insane.

As the sun began to set, they all changed into their robes. By the time, the train had reached Hogsmeade Station the two boys were in a lively conversation about the latest Quidditch World Cup. It was apparently less drama-filled than the one they went to unless you count Bulgaria's Veela mascots attempting to start an orgy with the opposing team as less drama.

They all got into a carriage together and Hermione shivered now that she realized she could see the thestrals that pulled the carriages towards the castle. She realized she was much happier not knowing they were there than she was now being able to see them, and knowing why she could see them.

The ride to the castle seemed to take forever. The boys continued to babble on about the World Cup, and she continued to sit in silence.

Once they were there, she sat down silently in her spot. The usual start of term meeting started, but Hermione zoned out for it. It was always the same thing said, every time. Stay away from the forest, dont bring these things to school... she would normally pay attention to such things, but her mind was still so jumbled from her recent discovery. How could she have not known any of this? How could her father have hidden this from her? She could naturally understand why her mother had said nothing. How could she if she didn't remember anything? Her father had absolutely no excuse, though. He should have told her sooner.

They finally went upstairs to bed. Somehow Hermione managed to fall fast asleep.

The next few months sped past. Other than Defense Against the Dark Arts classes were normal. Snape was now teaching Defence against the Dark Arts, and like potions he made sure to make life Hell for the students.

It seemed the months flew by though and then suddenly it was Christmas.

Hermione had opted to go home for the holidays. Not that she planned to spend much time there, but there were things she had to do.

She gave her mother a hug and a kiss on the cheek the moment she got home. She felt terrible for leaving without saying goodbye when she left for the Burrow. Her father she pointedly ignored.

She had a few things she had to sort out, but she figured it would be best to spend the next few days with her mother first.

And that's just what they did. They went shopping, to the movies, and a craft fair. They had lunch at what was soon dubbed "Their Restaurant", and had Chinese take-out in front of the TV for dinner. All in all, it was probably the best couple of days Hermione could remember having in a very long time.

All too soon it was time to put Hermione's plan into motion. She left a note for her mother telling her she was going to be away for the rest of the Christmas break, then held her arm out outside her house for the Knight Bus.

"Where you goin' little lady?" The pimpled conductor asked in a bored voice.

"Grimmauld Place, please," She said as quietly as possible. Even though it was noon, there were witches and wizards sleeping in beds all down the length of the bus.

"Here's ya ticket then, little miss. If you will follow me, I'lls get you a bed and we'll be on our way. We's got a few stops to make first, but we'll get ya there in good time, doncha worry 'bout that." The man spat a lot as he spoke, Hermione realized too late, and as she turned to follow him had to wipe the saliva from her face.

He led her to a bed at the back of the bus, using a flourish of his hand to indicate she was to sit down. Hermione could have sworn he had winked at her as well, but the man's face was so deformed by his acne that it was hard to properly tell.

Hermione sat and the Knight bus sped off.

After an hour of the harrowing journey, the Knight Bus finally screeched to a halt at the entrance to Grimmauld Place. "Tha'll be 14 sickles an' 3 knuts little lady." The conductor said as he held out a grimy hand. Hermione gingerly handed over the money to the conductor and stepped off the bus. She waited for the bus to speed away before she crossed the street and headed towards where she knew number 12 should be.

She stood at the spot between number 11 and number 13 and waited. She didn't have to wait too long, soon the building began to creak and number's 11 and 13 started to move apart. In no time at all, number 12 was before her.

It was as she quietly opened the front door (so as to not disturb the painting of Walburga Black), that she felt the first of her nerves setting in. This was it. She could point her wand at herself all that she wanted, but this was proof that she could see. That she could touch. It wasn't much, but it would be a start.

Finally swallowing her nerves, Hermione went upstairs and into the drawing room. Located on the far wall she knew, was the tapestry that would reveal her fate. She walked up to the tapestry and searched for the area where her mother might be. She had never paid much attention to it before, but now as she looked at it, she could appreciate its beauty, even if she couldn't appreciate the meaning behind it.

After scanning the tapestry from the top down, she finally found the only place her mother could be. Nothing. There was absolutely nothing. Laughter bubbled up inside of her. It had been a joke all along! Obviously Molly had been in on it too, otherwise the spell from the book she had borrowed wouldn't have told her such a result. It was obviously a very elaborate prank!

Hermione ran a hand down the ancient silk, feeling the gold thread under her fingers. It was clear only magic was holding this beautiful piece together. As she was doing this Hermione felt a strange tingling in her fingertips. Hermione looked at where her fingers were. Right between Sirius III and Regulus II another name appeared.

Norma.

The picture was blasted, but a thin golden line connected her name to another.

Morfin Gaunt II.

And a final golden thread went down to a final name.

Hermione Gaunt.

A shudder ripped through Hermione's body. It was all there now. Obviously there was some magic that was locking the information until a family member touched it, but why?

And how had Sirius never told her about any of this? Surely he knew that he was her Uncle.

She dropped to the floor, her whole body shaking. She didn't know what to do. Who to speak to. Suddenly she remembered her apparent Grandmother had a painting downstairs.

Hermione picked herself up to her feet and slowly headed downstairs. She dreaded doing this. Apart from the high pitched screaming of the dreaded woman, Walburga Black was the only one who could confirm for sure what was truly going on.

She stood in front of the curtained painting and with a final sigh pulled the string that would reveal the horrid painting.

She stood in front of the curtained painting and with a final sigh pulled the string that would reveal the horrid painting.

"BLOOD TRAITORS! FILTH! MUDBLOOD SCUM! BISMURCHING THE NAME OF OUR MOST ANCIENT HOUSE! PEASANTS! LIARS! DREGS OF DECENT SOCIE-"

"SHUT UP!" Hermione screamed at the painting. It was the first time she had ever addressed the painting and Walburga Black silenced in shock. "I have questions I need to ask and you will answer. You will answer truthfully, and in as much detail as possible. Do you understand?"

The woman in the painting said nothing. She just crossed her arms and stared at Hermione with a look of disgust on her face. Hermione took that as acquiescence.

She decided to be as blunt as possible. "Are you my Grandmother?"

The woman in the painting sighed then looked directly at Hermione. "So what if I am? You are still nothing more than the child of a dumb woman who would have rather lived her life as a filthy muggle than live her life with her true family. I had a wonderful man picked out for your mother you know? He is married to her cousin now instead. You should have been born a Lestrange, not a Gaunt! Oh, but you have the blood of the Dark Lord in you, so I can't hold that against you. You at least have magic, unlike that filth you call a father. My only Grandchild born to a squib. How ashamed your Grandfather was."

"Why didn't Sirius tell me, though? He met my parents once, how could he not recognize his own sister?" This was the thing that most confused Hermione.

"I obliviated the three of them. How could I let my two sons know that their sister was a traitor to our family? Of course, I now realize that it was all my fault. How could I have three children who could hate our family so much?" Walburga started to sob. "HOW COULD I HAVE LET MY FAMILY FALL TO SUCH DISGRACE? MY DAUGHTER MARRIED TO A SQUIB! MY ELDEST SON WISHING HE WAS A MUGGLE! MY YOUNGEST SON KILLING HIMSELF TRYING TO GET RID OF THE ONE MAN TO TRY AND BRING OUR WORLD BACK TO ITS FORMER GLORY! HOW COULD I HAVE FAILED?"

"Oh, will you stop wallowing in your own misery you stupid woman! Is there anyone else who can help me out? Answer my questions? No wonder all of your children wanted to get away from you!" Hermione had already had enough of this manic woman. There had to be someone else she could talk to.

Walburga stopped her crying for a moment. With a sniffle she replied, "I have another painting in Malfoy Manor. I shall speak to my niece. Perhaps she will be able to deal with your ungrateful attitude." The woman left the painting and returned a few minutes later.

"You can go there and speak to her. Ever since that blasted old muggle lover placed a curse on this house she can no longer come here. No one else is there, so you need not worry about having yourself cursed for being the ungrateful blood traitor you are. Unless of course my gracious niece feels the need to."

Hermione didn't even say goodbye. She just flicked her wand and the curtains closed on the painting.

She could feel a headache coming on.