Guest 1 : Yups, she is. Just…keep in mind Hermione and Clint are basically strangers for each other and the brothers parted on bad terms and she just lost her parents. They are trying, for sure, but the big family hug will have to wait a bit, I'm afraid ^^". And no worries, I really don't like Ron/Hermione pairings so that will NOT happen ^^

Guest 2: New Hermione will show off soon enough. Not this chapter, obviously, but she will. Thanks for the review :D

Guest 3: Patience, Hermione will put her new skills to use eventually :)

LeeArt: hee, as I said earlier, Hermione will definitively show off soon. Obviously the dynamic among the trio won't be the same in the upcoming chapters. I hope you'll enjoy the change :) Thanks for the review!

Guest 4: cheers!

Guest 5: The Eldest Weasley is still in writing, no worries, I'll update it sometime *hopefully* soon ^^"

Pixi: here's the next :)

Guest: to be honest, I haven't planned even that far…but no, they won't meddle with that part of the story.

Opal: it takes the time but I usually get the job done ^^"

Neither HP or Avengers are mine or some things would have gone differently :P Many thanks to my new beta, Blue :D

Please enjoy !


The Uncle From America

7.

Hermione pov

The Summer School classes were to be taught in a tall building in the middle of New York. Thankfully, Miss Hill had given her very precise instructions as to how to reach it. From the outside, it didn't look spectacular; one mundane building among others. Hermione glanced right, then left. On one side of the school there was a bakery, and on the other side, a plumber's office. Passersby strolled in front of the main entrance without even noticing it. Not unlike the Leaky Cauldron, come to think of it. Still, she held back the urge to roll her eyes; wizards in America were so…weird, to exhibit their properties in the middle of muggle business. At least the Leaky Cauldron was uninviting from the outside –and a bit on the inside.

The front door opened and a woman pulled a small child out behind her and onto the street. She looked perfectly normal, dressed in a pure muggle fashion. The child wore a bright orange and white miniature uniform. It was very school-like, with a badge pinned on the front of his shirt. The logo on the badge was similar to the one on the papers Miss Hill had her sign the other day. This was the right place, she decided.

The inside wasn't much grander either. The walls and decoration were quite simple; no huge portraits or fancy decoration like Hogwarts. The style was far too…modern. Unstylish. Bland. Hermione sighed and continued on. She didn't think these people had any taste. Or maybe Hogwarts' splendors had blinded her too much.

A receptionist sat behind a high desk. Said receptionist, amiddle-aged man, was waving a wand at a bunch of papers, making them twirl into a colorful, harmless, mini hurricane. She waited for him to take notice of her. A name tag pinned on his chest indicated the name 'Usher'.

"Good morning sir. My name is Hermione Granger; I'm here for a late integration into summer classes," She said eventually when he didn't move.

'Usher' raised an eyebrow, mumbled something and stared at the paper hurricane. One piece detached from the others and slid neatly into his waiting hand.

"Hermione Granger, newbie?" Hermione nodded when she realized he was asking for confirmation. "Yeah, that's your face," He added and pointed a corridor behind him. "Third floor, room twelve. Your supervisor's name is Hakker," Pause. "You British?" At her positive answer, he added: "For reminder floor one is ground level here. So you need to go to second. Good day,"

As Usher didn't seem open for further discussion, Hermione went her way and followed his direction. One would think living in a castle that's stairs switched position all the time would give her some sense of orientation, but some details made her definitively rethink the ordinariness of the building. She had climbed one set of stairs before realizing no number had been written on the walls; or rather, thenumbers flickered from 1 to 9 every three seconds. The walls themselves changed color occasionally – and very subtly – barely a shift from clear white to light gray and then beige and pale pink - all this in the time it took her to climb twenty steps.

She reached the third floor quickly, climbing while keeping her eyes on the ground (staring at the walls gave her a headache) and entered a large yellowish corridor with a lot of metallic-like doors.

"Watch out, imbecile!" someone shouted. One of the doors was slightly ajar and a teenage boy barged out of a room laughing, quickly followed by another his age. They both disappeared down the corridor, wands out and casting random spells at each other. A girl stepped out, crossed her arms and leaned back against the threshold with a resigned look on her face. She caught sight of Hermione and headed towards her.

"You're supposed to find room twelve?" she asked straight ahead. Hermione nodded. "You must be the new girl," she added. She had golden eyes that resembled a cat's, especially the pupil. Her light brown hair was tied in a complicated braid at the back of her head. She was dressed like a muggle, with a short-sleeved pale brown tunic, black leggings and combat boots. "I'm Gemma. Gemma Morgen. I'll be the one showing you around."

Hermione opened her mouth to introduce herself properly when a loud "Fuck!" echoed in the corridor. Both girls turned around and Gemma hurried to the origin of the sound. Hermione followed to indulge her curiosity – and because she didn't want to stand alone.

The two teenagers that had been running around were the origin of the commotion. The first one, a black boy with brown hair and probably younger than her, had his wand out and pointed at the second one. The second boy was spread on the floor, grimacing. They too, were wearing muggle clothes; a light yellow sweater and brown pants for the first boy, blue jeans and sleeveless dark red shirt for the second.

"Gretel!" the black boy called out cheerfully. "See that? See that! I caught him!" His 'victim', the boy on the ground, was a slightly older boy with wavy blond hair and raging green eyes.

"Fuck off Paint!" he shouted, struggling to get up, but not managing, as if an invisible weight was pressing on his back. "You made your point. Now cancel the goddamn spell!"

'Paint' glanced sheepishly at Gemma.

"Please?" he asked on a sweet innocent tone. The girl sighed heavily, pulled out her wand and waved it. The 'invisible weight' vanished and the one lying down sighed in relief. Hermione blinked in surprise; she had just cast a wordless spell.

"Thanks Gretel," He said, standing up and brushing away invisible dust.

"They call me Gretel because I'm from Germany. Nicknames run around, so better learn them as well as the first names," Gemma informed her before introducing her to the black teen. "Joker number one is Matisse LaTour,"

"Call me 'Paint', cher," he said with an elegant bow. He had a loud accent that didn't come from speaking French.

"And joker number two is Harry Gellick,"

"Nickname's Fish because he loves sushi," Matisse/Paint whispered which caused Harry/Fish to glare at him. Hermione couldn't help but smile a little.

"I have a friend whose name is Harry," she put in. "My name's Hermione Granger,"

"Oooh, I know that accent," Matisse/Paint interrupted with a wide grin. "You're from Great Britain, right?" She nodded. "Perfect, I got your nickname." He breathed in deeply, took the welcoming pose of a showman and extended both arms at her: "You will be…Brita!"

"Brita?" Harry/Fish repeated with a frown.

"Short for Britannia. That's the lady name of your country, right?"

"Eh…sure. She has been the representation of the British Isles for centuries." Hermione started, but quickly quieted when Paint was distracted by a spot on his wand.

"So Brita it is," Fish concluded with a grin (Hermione would keep the 'Fish' nickname in mind. While he looked nothing like her Harry, the common name might be confusing in the long run). "Welcome to the team Melting Pot."

Gemma rolled her eyes.

"That's the nickname of our class," she explained dryly. "We come from all over the world and mix up in one spot. It's an analogy to an existing phenomenon, and the kids' nickname to convey unity against the locals."

Hermione nodded in understanding. Both Paint and Fish glared at their elder; little doubt they had been the ones behind the name. Then Fish subtly tried to cast a spell on Paint and off they went running again. Gemma exchanged an exasperated eye roll with her.

"Yeah, welcome to the circus."

Hermione smiled. She already liked it.


'Dear Harry,

I've integrated a summer class in America and you have no idea how much fun I am having right now. We are a small group of ten students and one teacher, who supervises everyone. We revise spells and potions and a little bit of herbology. I've arrived too late to integrate into other classes like runes or astronomy but this is good enough.

Everyone calls each other by nicknames here, even the teacher Jonathan Hakker is 'Don Juan'. Mine is Brita, from England – see the link. No-one will call me Hermione and I gave up trying after the tenth time. I made a few friends here too. First is Gretel (real name Gemma). She moved from Germany with her parents two months ago and is the oldest one here –she turned fifteen last June. Actually, most of the students aren't from the United States and have migrated in the area recently. Then there are Fish and Paint (real name respectively Harry and Matisse). Fish is from Australia. Paint is the only one who lived in the US his whole life, he comes from Louisiana. They are both twelve and won't stop bickering and casting spells at each other. I had the cancelling spell mastered by the end of the fourth day.

These classes are mostly an opportunity to adjust to the American school system. It's fun to be taught from a different perspective, especially since they value practice a lot more than theory. Don Juan is barely older than us, so he is a lot more approachable.

You would love it here. The city is huge and building and skyscrapers go so high up! I didn't get to see the magical side of the city, although Gretel thinks it would be wiser for me to already get used to the muggle side before slipping into unfamiliar territory. It's true that I am quite busy already. I haven't told you much about Clint, my uncle, yet. He seems to be a good guy, although it's not easy every day. He's teaching me how to use a gun. A gun! Do you believe it? And maybe later, when we both have more time, he'll show me how to shoot a bow.

Crookshanks is also fine. He's adapted to the apartment better than I thought, even if he hates wearing a collar. Clint's girlfriend is teaching me self-defense. I will definitively show you when I return to Hogwarts; there are some things that would have definitively been useful against Malfoy last year.

Until then,

Hermione"

She put down the pen and folded the letter. American correspondence didn't use the usual British means. Actually, most magical pets there were dogs, cats or rodents, including dormouse or raccoons or even rats. There were never – or very rarely – anybirds. Hedwig would have looked even more out of place than usual, while Crookshanks had easily made a few friends at her school. She remembered Paint's look of envy when she had told him he was half-kneazle. The boy had nearly kidnapped the cat at the end of their class.

Right now, a huge brown cat was staring at her unblinkingly, waiting for her to send her letter. The cat –Candy –was Gretel's, and she had allowed Hermione to borrow it for a few days. Crookshanks could be trained to deliver letters in the States, but he needed to be introduced to the job by a fellow magical creature. Said half-kneazle was staring pointedly at Candy with the same unblinking eyes, although Candy pointedly ignored him. Sometimes, he'd meow to try to catch the female's attention, but to no avail. Hermione smiled slightly as he failed again.

"There…" Hermione said, handing her folded letter to the cat. "Can you show this handsome redhead there the trick please?"

Candy sniffed disdainfully and stretched elegantly before taking the letter in her mouth. Hermione also learned that, amazingly enough, magical creature's drooling wouldn't affect the object they were carrying. As the female padded over her desk and hopped towards the window, Crookshanks hurriedly scrambled after her. Before he could disappear, Hermione couldn't help but shot:

"Be nice to Candy, Crook! Sometimes ladies don't like too much attention,"

Crook meowed pitifully at her and jumped out of her view, following his temporary mentor. Hermione watched the window a few moments more until a knock distracted her.

"Hermione?" Clint's voice. "Can I come in?"

She glanced around in her room: nothing compromising was exposed aside from a couple of books on the floor. She gathered them, hurriedly dumped them in a corner and allowed entrance.

Clint and she might have gotten off rocky basis, but she found that they were getting used to each other. It became easier to talk to him as he slowly accepted the idea of magic and relaxed around her. Their time at the shooting range and the gym also gave her an unexpected means of bounding with him and his girlfriend. Natasha was nice enough and as Hermione had mentioned in her letter to Harry, a good teacher. Her lessons would leave her soaking in sweat, but they were efficient and now she could probably take down a man Clint's size. A man without the training of her uncle, that is. When stumbling upon the guns, Hermione has assumed they had heavy training for whatever they were doing. (For some reason, she couldn't see Clint working as the kind of guard in supermarkets. She knew he had been in the military, but something told her all this training was meant to be use for much more dangerous ends).

Her uncle pushed the door open. He wasn't alone. Maria Hill was there as well, stern-looking and impassive, contrary to her usualreserved friendliness. It didn't stop her from getting straight to her point.

"We need to talk about some things you said regarding a man named Sirius Black."

Hermione felt her heartbeat accelerate and glared at her uncle. They had that unspoken agreement that some subjects were not to be touched, and Sirius was one of them. He obviously had spoken about it to his…boss? Friend? She still wasn't sure. Miss Hill ignored her look and went on:

"Your uncle says you are a very level-head, and smart witch," The compliment did not sooth her irritation. Not in the slightest. "If you may, I will ask a few questions regarding the fugitive. You have been far enough from England to be broken of any kind of spell that may be cast upon you."

Hermione felt her blood rise in indignation:

"Sirius didn't-"

"Listen Hermione," Clint interrupted, much to her annoyance. "I did a bit of research, and I found Black's file. They wrote down the accusations that were put on him, the date he was imprisoned, but there never was the mention of a trial. The sentence runs back twelve years ago, he should have been able to call for one since the political tension had calmed down. He is now considered to be a fugitive. I'm not saying I agree with your statements nor am I disagreeing, but keep in mind that if he wants to be cleared of all charges, he needs to through a trial no matter what."

"They will never let him have a trial," Hermione spat bitterly.

"That's why we are asking you to tell him to surrender to us," Maria replied, as calmly as before. The teen noted that the woman hadn't asked for precision on the 'they'. "Bring him to the US, let him ask for immunity within American territory. If he convinces the right people, he could bring the Magical British Government to court for slander and more."

The young witch narrowed her eyes at the woman.

"You mean, if he convinces you."

"Unlike Britain, we openly work with Veritaserum and Pensives during a trial. Not to say they are infallible means," Hill added with disdain. "But it could help Black's case."

Hermione remained quiet a few moments. She didn't understand why they considered helping Sirius. They were supposed to work in the security business …Or maybe they actually were involved in some kind of secret organization. She nearly dismissed the thought on thespot. There was a world between security and agency. If her uncle belonged to a fancy organization, he would have told her, right?

"What's in for you?" Hermione asked eventually. "He's not even in the front page of any US magazine," And she had checked.

"Honor and debts in the wizarding world have huge weight. Our allies in Britain are a faint minority and most of the time unreliable. Black is old blood, and a fairly independent man in the political sphere," Hill replied honestly. "Black gets his freedom, we free an innocent and keep relationships open. It's a win-win for everyone."

Hermione frowned. She didn't like this. She didn't like that they would use Sirius as a source of information. As if sensing her reluctance, Clint intervened quickly:

"It's a good deal for him. Maria has contacts and if she says she can do something, then she will," Surprise crossed the woman's face, but it was very brief. Hermione wondered whether it came from his 'belief' in his superior, or his attempt to convincing her. "But that will be entirely up to him and you. Remember, we have no ways of knowing if you decide to tell him. If he's innocent as you claim, I'm ready to give him the benefit of the doubt," He added gently: "We're not trying to pressure you, just give you options."

"I'll see what I can do," She said eventually and firmly, mentioning she wouldn't push on the matter. Both adults nodded and walked out of her bedroom, leaving Hermione to her thoughts.


On August the thirtieth, Hermione had packed her suitcases packed and folded.

"You take care," Clint rambled, looking far too nervous and guilty. "And call as soon as you arrive. I'll keep my phone on in case of trouble. I'll probably be out on stakeout with Tasha but I'll return as soon as I can."

"Phones don't work in…" she trailed off and chose a different kind of approach: "At my school. But I'll call when I'm at the airport,"

Her uncle wouldn't be there to drive her off at school. He had been called on an assignment the previous evening for tomorrow afternoon, and he wouldn't tell her where he was sent. Natasha was assigned to be his partner (they were the best, they claimed, and after watching them exchange fists quite a few times in the gym, Hermione could easily believe them) so Natasha couldn't come with hereither.

Surprisingly, Hermione realized she would miss them. Even though they weren't as tight as a real family, she had become used to their presence in the past few weeks.

Both Clint and Natasha gave her an awkward, although genuine, good-bye hug before she left for the boarding gates. Hermione was given a special pass for Crookshanks so he wouldn't have to go through quarantine once in London and once arrived, no-one put up a fuss. Clint had booked her a room in a fancy hotel near the center of London and close to the Leaky Cauldron. She spent the day before boarding strolling down Diagon Alley, purchasing this years books and merely staring at other artifacts she once might have bought on a whim. But her parents weren't there to support her financially anymore, and she didn't want to become a large source of expense for her uncle either.

She took the taxi to the train station and made her way to the platform 9 3/4. It was odd, not being surrounded by her parents, and her loss was heavy in the air. She hadn't tried to contact Harry or Ron upon her return, as neither had returned a letter since she had departed. Although she wanted to assume the mail had gone lost somewhere, she was still annoyed at the lack of communication between them. But, they would see each other soon enough.

The station was still full and buzzing with activity. Hermione stepped through the ticket barrier and found herself on the platform, staring at the shiny black and red locomotive. A small smile made its way on her face.

"Hello there," she whispered to herself, and suddenly felt slightly better. She had lost a home two months ago (was it only two months ago? She felt it was ages already) and gained an uncertain one, but now she was returning to her second true home.

Unnatural movement caught her eye on her right. A messy, dark-haired teenager (Harry! She thought as her heart skipped a beat) was waving at her from afar, a big grin plastered on his face. Hermione immediately pushed her cart in the direction of her friend to greet him warmly. But then Harry stepped aside and another boy she used to consider her friend appeared in sight.

"H-Hermione?" Ron babbled as he spotted her. Every inch of good mood evaporated at his view. Hermione was glad Natasha hadn't shown her how to thigh-choke someone yet, or Ron would have been biting the floor.

"Ron," she greeted icily. She used the 'talk-to-me-you-and-die' glare the badass woman had taught her. "How nice to see you. I hope you spent lovely holidays. I can't wait to hear them, since you didn't even deign send me one fucking single letter all summer you fucking asshole!"

Her voice rose with the last words. Even though she kept a cool façade, she was burning with anger inside. Harry glared at Ron in turn.

"You told me you wrote back!" he barked accusingly, his whole body tensing at the now uncomfortable redhead.

"I- I…my mom told me not to!"

"Your- what?"

Ron stared at his feet.

"We were already a big family. We can hardly make things work. When you wrote about a magical guardianship, Mom thought you wanted us to 'adopt' you. And then you said you were leaving for America so I thought it didn't matter anymore,"

Hermione felt her blood rise in anger but forced to calm down. Deep breath, she ordered herself. The hours she spent at yoga were proving themselves useful after all.

"Hermione?" Ron asked tentatively.

She glared at him.

"Don't talk to me. Don't come five feet from me. Don't even think asking for help for homework. I lost both parents and I really needed my friends support. You turned on me. Don't think I'll ever forget that."

She turned her back on him and went inside the train, looking for a deserted compartment. The training that Natasha and Clint had put her through had strengthened her muscles and as she handled her suitcases, she didn't find them as heavy as before. She would definitely keep up the light training back at the castle; who knew when it would come inhandy. Then she remembered Malfoy's face when she had punched him. Would he have a concussion if she hit him again, with the added strength she had gathered the past few weeks? The thought made her smile faintly as she glanced at the platform.

Parents and students were mingling about. The students were readying for a new year or getting ready to enter Hogwarts for the first time. She closed her eyes and remembered painfully the first time she had come here. Her father had to work early that day, so he had said goodbye from the house. Her mother had accompanied her inside the station and had stared at her surroundings with wide, curious eyes. Hermione remembered how excited and eager she had been. She had barely said 'bye' and thenshe'd rushed forwards into a new world. She briefly wondered how her parents had felt then, if they had been as nervous as Clint to let her go or glad to send her away.

Magic wasn't a taboo at home, but she remembered that only her mother had been interested in her classes. Her father had only been more talkative during their holidays, when wands were cast aside and muggle discoveries were at the forefront. Clint had been reluctant to speak about magic, more out of fear of the unknown than disgusted. But in the end, she had felt him coming around. Just as she had been making efforts to understand his world, he had made some to understand hers.

That was something her father hadn't done, she suddenly realized. Just as pureblood wizards snubbed muggleborns, her father had avoided every aspect of her magical life. She even remembered him pulling a face when she had mentioned working for the Ministry of Magic. He had asked whether she would still work in the normal world and when she had gone on with her idea of the future, he had never brought up the subject again.

The train started to roll and still no-one entered her cabin. Hermione sighed and stared out the window at the landscape outside. She wondered how she was going to manage this year. She usually wrote to her parents every couple weeks, but it wouldn't feel the same with Clint. She had also promised to keep a regular correspondence with the Melting Pots which would be a nice distraction. Somewhat. She couldn't wait to be at Hogwarts and back in her dorms with the girls…

The door of her compartment slid open and a familiar black-haired teen peeked inside.

"Is the seat taken?" he asked. Hermione rolled her eyes but nodded towards the empty bench.

"All yours," she replied. Harry smiled, closed the door and sat there. He didn't waste time and immediately asked:

"Are you okay?"

"Yes," She replied, then admitted: "No. Not really. I thought you'd be staying with Ron?"

"I saw him nearly all summer, he won't miss me. And I'm angry at him right now," Harry replied with a shrug and leaned forwards. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more,"

Hermione smiled tightly."You did what you could, and I appreciate that. I hope the Dursley weren't too hard on you,"

"It's fine. They left me alone since I told them about Sirius," He paused and smiled slightly. "I didn't get any letters from you after you left England, by the way,"

"I did write you," Hermione inputted. She shouldn't feel the need to protest, but she did. Harry merely smiled, albeit bitterly.

"And I assume you didn't get any of my letters either,"

Hermione sighed harshly and glared out of the window, cursing Molly Weasley and her weak-minded son under her breath. She wasn't angry at Harry though. She knew that had it been up to him, he would have done a lot more than sending a couple letters.

"Well, it's over now," she replied with a lightness she didn't really feel. "So why don't you tell me about your summer?"

Harry smiled back and she felt her heart flutter. She had missed him a lot more that she'd expected.

"Only if you tell me about the US first," he replied cheekily. Hermione smiled genuinely this time and proceeded to tell him everything.


AN/: Some might feel the relationship between Hermione and Clint isn't very warm and slow to build, but there are my arguments: first, Hermione and Clint are basically strangers with both their issues. They won't start hugging out of the blue for some time, especially since Hermione is a teenager and Clint doesn't feel like the hugging type. Second, they have only known each other for a few weeks -Hermione's parents died in July and she traveled to the US by the end of that month. That's a bit short, especially if she is still grieving her parents. They will eventually bound, but it will take time :)

As for Hogwarts, the plot will go along with GoF canon -at least, concerning the main events. Harry/Hermione/Ron's relationship is sure to shift that year. Avengers will make an appearance, eventually.

Also, a few people mentioned pairings. Right now, I'm debating between a Hermione/Harry and Hermione/OC (maybe, MAYBE Steve or Bucky). NO RON/HERMIONE!( Everyone's got their pairings, this one is definitively not one of mine)

Help me make up my mind? –got an idea either way…:)

Till next time!