Author's note:

This story will be majorly AU, meaning I will deviate from canon quite extensively in some degrees. I will aim to stay true to canon-characterisation, but I cannot promise anything. The story is Hermione-centric, though others will be featured.

Also, I am a firm believer in 'Anyone can go dark', so expect nothing really 'evil' for now. On another note, this chapter is solely to rush through the first year up until the 'dramatic plot thingie' from where the story will slow down and become more detailed and a lot less hurried.

No characters will be bashed, or 'hated for no reason other than existing', but because some events never happened some characters may react differently than in canon.

Also, I am not an expert on family-trees, but assume that Hermione had help from her parents and other family members. And taking in account the shortened life-span of people during the middle ages I think 14 generations is a decent number.

With that said, please enjoy and thank you for reading!

Prodigal

Contrary to popular belief, the eldest Peverell brother did not die childless and neither did his children. And many centuries later a muggleborn girl finds that her ancestry is so much more than she had ever thought of it.

Dark!Hermione

Chapter One

Be wary of their name

Remember their deeds

As for their death they themselves are to blame

Arrogance, longing and fear

Marked their eventual end

For against death

None can defend

Healer Dilys Derwent on 'The Tale of the Three Brothers'.

Hermione Granger jammed on the previously singing hat with gusto, not intending to eagerly await its verdict as she started chanting I want to go to Gryffindor, please, in her head.

'Oh, it seems we have a bit of a challenge here,' the hat said in her head, Hermione nearly shrieked but forcibly kept her jaw shut at the last second to prevent the sound from escaping as she re-adjusted her seat on the rickety old stool she sat on. Shrieking wasn't something a Gryffindor did, after all, and she dearly wanted to be in the house of professor Dumbledore and professor McGonagall, who stood next to her now.

'Gryffindor, please, mister hat,' Hermione pleaded, awkwardly relaying the message through her thoughts while her subconscious was already shooting questions left and right on howwhywhenwhat was with the hat and how it could even be sentient!

'Mmm-hmmm,' the hat drawled thoughtfully, 'are you sure? Ravenclaw would suit you better and you have the ambition for Slytherin. Hmmm, no, not Slytherin then, that one's out. Ravenclaw, maybe? You would fit in splendidly there, they are very studious and appreciate a good debate, you'd do well in Ravenclaw.'

Hermione swallowed thickly, she wanted Gryffindor because she could be brave! She could, really, and Gryffindor was everything she liked, good and noble and courageous and-

'Stubborn, you seem to have that one down already. Well if it isn't Ravenclaw then it has to be-'

"Gryffindor," the hat bellowed loudly as professor McGonagall picked it up from her head and smiled kindly at Hermione, who immediately beamed back before hurrying to the loudly cheering Gryffindor table. She looked down to see her tie, which was a plain black when she entered, was now sporting the famous red and gold that Gryffindor was renowned for. And Hermione smiled, she got what she wanted, Gryffindor would be great.

oOoOoOoOo

Hermione dabbed at her face with a towel as she glared darkly at the mirror hanging in front of her, the tear marks made by her previous angry tears had left her looking even more dishevelled tha normal, her bushy hair sticking out at all ends and her eyes red and puffy. Gryffindor, Hermione decided as she folded the towel with jerky motions, was awful.

The girls in her dorm were vain airheads, and while her mum had often told her that, 'no Hermione, not everyone is as smart as you are, you shouldn't judge them on that', she still couldn't find it in her to like them. They were just so different, they talked about boys and ponies and clothes while she just wanted to read a book or make her homework. They didn't get that she wanted to learn and work.

And then the boys, they were horrible and mean. They were thick, neanderthal pigs and only disliked her the more she tried to help them get their work right. That stupid Ronald Weasley was the worst, the brainless idiot criticising her every move and mocking her when she got her spells right.

The last couple of days Hermione regretted now having went with Ravenclaw when the hat offered it, it had sorted thousands of students and probably knew what was best. But no, she had to be stubborn as a Gryffindor and demand to be sorted in the house of the 'Noble and Chivalrous'.

Apart from that Hermione did like Hogwarts, if only for the classes. The teachers, with the notable of exemption of professor Snape, were all fair and friendly and taught them well. Even professor Quirrel, whose stutter made him hard to follow, taught them relevant things. And then there was the magic, it was just incredible, breath-taking and oh-so new. Hermione could spend years in the school's huge library and still be amazed by the simple, everyday spells people used left and right. Charms to tie shoelaces, spells to open windows or fold paper and quills that corrected grammar or could actually know the answers!

Yes, Hermione decided, she might dislike Gryffindor but Hogwarts as a whole was simply magical.

oOoOoOoOo

But it wasn't until the fifteenth of November that anything worthwhile happened to Hermione, yes she'd still been treated like trash by her housemates and still received lots of points from her teachers when she once again performed admirably in all of her classes, but aside from that life at Hogwarts went virtually unchanged.

But that day, the fifteenth, marked a changed. Because the day before Hermione had asked professor Binns, Hogwarts resident ghost-teacher whose lessons were 'deadly dull', if there was something she could do for extra credit.

Professor Binns had looked at her, vacant, see-through eyes staring at her face for a few moments before the ghost had nodded, "I'll think of something, miss Gregors."

"It's Granger, sir," Hermione corrected immediately, "but thank you, sir, thank you."

The professor hovered away then, disappearing after he went right through one of the walls.

Hermione just grinned to herself as she returned to the library, it was always good to have an ace in the pocket if, for some reason, she got anything less than full marks for History of Magic.

The next day though, during their weekly History of Magic class, professor Binns asked for their attention, waking up three-quarters of the class that was sleeping and snapping others out of their daze.

"At the end of the school year all of you will hand in a family tree going back at least five generations in order to receive extra credits," the ghost intoned in his extraordinary toneless voice, "and for next week I want a three-inch essay on the werewolf code of conduct. Class dismissed."

And with that the professor floated back out of the classroom through the dusty chalkboard, that probably hadn't been used since the man died, leaving the combined class of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors to talk among themselves as they slowly filed out of the room.

"This is so easy," Ronald Weasley crowed excitedly to Harry Potter, "I'll just owl mum, she knows all that stuff, or even better, I bet Percy knows, I can get it done now and have more free time!"

"But I don't," Harry muttered dejectedly as he grabbed his bag and shoved his book inside, "the Dursleys would rather eat dirt than tell me about my parents. I guess I'll have to ask Hagrid, maybe he can help me out."

Ron just looked apologetically at his friend and slapped him on the back, "I bet Binns won't notice if you just write something down, like Charlie said on how Trelawney doesn't know how everyone fakes her class. Divination's supposed to be real easy because of that."

Harry just sighed before he and Ron got lost in the crowd gradually leaving the classroom.

But out of all the students Hermione was easily the most excited, though the assignment wasn't what she had expected it had the possibility to be even better! She could try to trace her family tree all the way up to see if she did in fact descent from a wizard or if muggleborns sprouted magic 'out of nowhere'. If she did have relatives that had magic she could owl them, which sounded silly she decided immediately, owling someone. But she'd owl them and maybe they could help her figure out more about the wizarding world. It was a pity Hogwarts didn't offer classes, because while they did teach her magic they didn't teach how to live like a witch.

oOoOoOoOo

Weeks passed swiftly as Hermione drowned herself in her homework, classes and reading. So far her favourite class was transfiguration, with charms a close second, and she loved learning more about the subjects. So really, it wasn't that big a surprise that while the others were celebrating Halloween (which was awful for your teeth, or so her parents said) that she and some die-hard Ravenclaws were enjoying a good book in the library.

So when the huge doors to the library closed shut with a 'bang' that echoed throughout the spacious room most of its inhabitants jumped up, one particularly stressed seventh-year event went as far as to shriek and fell off her chair.

"No worries," Madam Pince snapped acidly from behind her desk, overlooking the rows upon rows of bookcases and those who dared read what they contained as she sent a withering glare at the girl that fell off her chair, "a troll is in the castle, the doors are closed as a precaution. A teacher will get us when the situation is under control."

Hermione, knowing all too well what a troll could do thanks to Magical Monsters, so she was grateful for the oak doors that kept it out. She focused back on the notebook, because parchment was impractical for normal notes, that contained the last seven generations of Grangers before her. She found the most recent generations were easy to find and was hard-pressed to focus on just her immediate relations and had to force herself not to go into full detail on her cousins, great-aunts and other relatives.

And when professor Sinistra came to retrieve them just before midnight, apparently the troll had fortified itself in one of the girls lavatories, Hermione was pleased to see her family-tree had now gone up to include William Archibald Granger and his wife, Mary Pulley, who were her great-great-great-great-great-great-grandparents, though as of yet she had not found any magical relatives among her muggle ones.

Later that night, once professor Sinistra escorted her and the Ravenclaws to their common room, Hermione thought back on that day. She could've been hurt, or even worse, killed, by the troll had she been in the facilities at that time. But that didn't matter, Hermione supposed, because she wasn't killed, hurt or even in the general vicinity of the troll at the time. Besides, the teachers should've come to rescue her had they known she was there?

And so Hermione let herself fall back on her maroon covers, ignoring the hushed conversation going on between Lavender and Parvati as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

oOoOoOoOo

Christmas passed and perhaps the best gift she got was the still slightly awkward friendship of Neville Longbottom, a shy boy that hadn't been bullied but still wasn't a real part of the house, just like her. She found him struggling with his transfiguration homework and offered her help and from that a fledgling friendship had grown. She sent him a card and a book, Various Fungi and Their Uses, self-updating edition by Paulus Hedgeroot, for Christmas and in return he gave her a book on charms that she didn't previously own and a bag of chocolate frogs (which she indulged on only sparsely, they were bad for her teeth after all).

They sat next to each other in various classes, a definite improvement over sitting all on her own, and she helped him prevent any further catastrophes during potions. It earned her more scorn from professor Snape, who quite disliked her if his frequent comments of 'know it all' were to be trusted, but she didn't mind. She'd rather have one person like her than having Snape not like her. Professor Snape like no one, save for his Slytherins.

She went home for the holidays, eager to see her parents, and spent the two-week holiday reading the books her various family members bought her (mostly muggle novels, Neville's gift being the exception) and working on her family-tree. She found that the further she dug the harder it became, much like hitting rock after going through smooth soil, but she was undeterred.

She was Hermione Granger, no project, class, homework or assignment would ever get the best of her!

oOoOoOoOo

Once Hermione returned to Hogwarts she felt herself slip back in her usual routine, the only exception being she now managed to fit Neville in. Time spent working ahead on assignments and classes and stuffing in that extra inch on her essays were now spent tutoring Neville in classes he had difficulty with. She found herself reading on ways to improve pronunciation, wand movement and other tiny things that could make the difference between levitating a feather and summoning a buffalo. It helped, Neville's grades rose ever-so-slightly and Hermione couldn't help but feel proud of their combined hard work.

Neville opened up to her after a few months, telling her little titbits about his life to which she couldn't help but feel horrified by.

"Your uncle dropped you from a window!" Hermione screeched, glad they weren't in the library for she surely would have been kicked out, "that's-, that's child abuse! He should be arrested, he can't do that!"

Neville shuffled his feet awkwardly, looking down at the smooth stone floor before glancing back up at Hermione's flushed face, "it's not that bad. I bounced, 'twas my first display of magic. They were so proud that my uncle bought me Trevor, see, nothing bad came from it."

Hermione breathed in deeply through her nose, the courageous part of her that once demanded Gryffindor raising its head and demanding justice, "you could have died, Neville, what if you hadn't bounced?"

"But I did," Neville said, not getting why she was so angry, "and it's done now. I bounced, I had magic, I wouldn't have died."

Hermione decided to let it drop but not without an angry huff, wizards had no logic. None at all.

oOoOoOoOo

The remainder of the year flew by, Ronald Weasley had toned down his behaviour and stopped egging on her at everything she did, even apologizing once which she found really gratifying if not long overdue, and she and Neville became friends. They weren't the awkward acquaintances they were before Christmas anymore and Hermione found that she liked it, having a friend was nice. It was certainly better than having none, or being friends with her airheaded roommates who couldn't hold a decent conversation on anything not about boys, make-up or fluffy animals, and Neville was nice. He was dependable and sweet, she supposed, a good friend.

Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter did get in trouble though, they attempted to enter the 'room you don't enter unless you wished to die a very painful death' and one of them ended up poisoned and had to stay in Saint Mungo's for a day before he was sent back to Hogwarts. And when they returned, the other stayed for observation, they both told wild stories about a cerberus, a giant chess set that wanted to kill them and flying keys.

It would've been a good, enjoyable, if not slightly wild, story hadn't they lost Gryffindor 50 points each.

In the end even the points Harry and the Gryffindor Quidditch team made with winning their games didn't put them back on the track for first place, they ended up second next to Slytherin. Professor Snape had turned to giving his students points for wearing their clothes 'correctly' and for 'sitting with poise benefiting of a Slytherin' and took away points for 'being in the wrong place' or 'being a distraction'.

Professor Quirrel did mysteriously disappear the day Harry and Ronald returned to Hogwarts, which was odd, but a replacement was found in professor Flitwick who temporarily took over the classes and mainly had them read and write essays though he occasionally told stories of his past as a professional dueller.

In the end Hermione aced her end-of-year tests, which didn't mean anything until her O. and N.E. , and even Neville got pretty decent grades.

She handed in her family-tree, going to a good fourteen generations though her personal version went up further and she dearly intended to finish that one. She got her extra credit, as did the others for the assignment really was too easy, and went home with the train. Once on the platform she told, more like ordered, Neville to write her before wishing him a happy holiday.

Then she ran to her parents and enveloped them in a hug before following them to their car, it was good to be home.

oOoOoOoOo

Once home Hermione dove right back in her family-tree, she had found a surprising number of squibs that were her great-great-great-great-(and a lot more of –greats) grand-ancestors and she finally felt she was getting somewhere as she rummaged through the huge assortment of papers, books, records and even diaries she had collected during her search. Wizards, quite surprisingly, meticulously wrote down their own lineage and ancestry, so the moment she found a squib she could match it to names found on birth-records from notable families. Most disowned their sons of daughters that didn't inherit magic but they didn't think of removing every sign of their birth, like the record made the moment they were born, so once again wizarding logic fell short.

Then she wrote down the last name she'd been capable of tracing and put it all the way on the top of the huge paper (consisting of many tiny, taped-together pieces of paper) and with a slightly shaking finger she traced the line that ended in her name all the way to highest end of the family-tree only for it to stop at that one, particular name.

Her ancestor was a wizard, she had wizarding blood (however diluted) and now knew there was a reasonably plausible reason for her own magic.

It meant that she descended form a man, a man whose name she vaguely recalled standing on the back on a book containing a collection of fairy tales, a real wizard.

Because there, on high up on her neatly-inscribed family-tree stood one name, standing out from all others:

Antioch Peverell.

Thank you for taking the time to read this.

Volenta