AN: This was a very random idea that came to me after reading a few other AU stories where Harry or Hermione or both end up being taken care of by someone other than their parents/caregivers. It is going to be VERY AU, there will be Dumbledore bashing, but at this point, he will not be evil, just a bit misguided and arrogant. This is kind of a "What if the adults around Harry didn't suck" type of fic. No pairings decided as of yet though I highly doubt I will change Harry/Ginny. This will be from Hermione's perspective and the pairing will NOT be Sirius/Hermione. Just FYI.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I just like to play around with these characters. Now on with the story.

Chapter One: The Boy Who Lost Everything

1 November 1981

It had grown dark outside Number 4 Privet Drive. The muggles had settled in to sleep some time ago, lights had flicked off in all the neighbouring houses. Yet still, the tabby cat known as Professor McGonagall sat, staring at the corner of the street. Finally, the man she was waiting for arrived. She watched, eyes narrowed as he turned out the lights in the street one by one with a click of his deluminator. Then, slowly but surely, he moved over to where she sat.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."

The cat scowled and jumped off the stone wall, turning into a severe, middle-aged woman in green robes. She glared hard at the man, before turning her eyes to the boy in his arms. The lightning-bolt shaped cut on his forehead caused a pinch in her chest. The poor child, now all alone in the world. The conversation that followed was brief but heated. Harry Potter would remain here, with his Aunt and Uncle, until he turned 11 and was enrolled in Hogwarts School of Witch Craft and Wizardry. She tried to protest, to argue, to make other plans. There were plenty of magical families that would take him, he had family in their world. Lupin, or the Longbottoms, even the Black family had people who would take him in. But no, he was to stay here, with muggles. That was Dumbledores decision.

So it was with a heavy heart that Minerva McGonagall watched Harry be placed on his Aunt and Uncles doorstep, an envelope tucked next to his arm and the cut on his forehead still healing.

Dumbledore stepped back and, with a kind smile, offered his arm.

"Shall we return to the castle, Minerva?"

She glared, stepped forward and flicked her wand, sealing the young boy in a bubble of warmth, one that would last until morning when he would be found and cared for.

"Now we may go."

Instead of grasping the offered arm she spun on the spot and apparated away, leaving Dumbledore to sigh, shake his head and then disappear with a sharp crack.

He landed outside the school gates, Minerva had at least waited for him to arrive. Now for the hard part, the part Dumbledore knew he would never forgive himself for. But it had to be done. He stepped forward, placing a hand on the woman's shoulder.

"It had to be this way, Minerva." He looked down into her hard stare and sighed deeply. "Forgive me."

It took only a second for him to breach the wards of her mind, then a flick of his wand and he removed the memory he needed gone. The location of Harry Potter.

She stumbled, gasped and grabbed her head as though in pain. He stepped forward to help, but she waved a hand, wand clenched in her grasp.

"Don't come near me!" She righted herself and pinned him with a hard, icy glare. "How could you do this to me? You had no right."

"It was necessary, Minerva. You couldn't know where he is, others could find out. He could be found, by those who wish him harm. It's for the best."

"That was not your choice to make."

The woman spun away from him and stormed toward the castle. Little did Dumbledore know that this was his first big mistake. McGonagall had always taken her duty as Head of house seriously. Lily and James had been hers, her lions, her cubs and by extension, Harry belonged to her too. She had had every intention of keeping an eye on him, of making sure he was treated well. Now she would not get the chance. And it was Dumbledore that had taken this way from her. She would never forget this, nor would she forgive him for it.

XXX

June- August 1987

Mrs. Figg was not an idiot, despite what many might think. She had spent her life around muggles, disowned from her family at the age of 11 when she had been revealed as a squib. But that didn't mean she didn't know things, didn't see things. She had spent her life being able to see things others could not. This was no different.

She smiled down at the 6-year-old boy at her side, offered him another slice of cake and tried not to notice the way he flinched when she tried to flatten his hair. Harry Potter was being abused. She was sure of it. True, there were no bruises, no broken bones. But he was half-starved, looked like he needed a week of sleep at least and worst of all he was unloved. It was clear no one was caring for him, or about him. It wouldn't. She had tried to tell Dumbledore that the boy was being mistreated, tried to convince him to take him away, to a Magical family who would care for him. The man had refused. That was Dumbledores second mistake. It was time she took matters into her own hands.

The next day, after Harry had returned to his Aunt's home, Mr's Figg went out for a walk. Not finding what she was looking for that day she tried again the next, and the next, and the next. It took her 2 months of walking to finally find what she was looking for, just when she had almost given up hope, she stumbled across it quite by accident.

She was walking back from a park, making her way home later than she would have liked, she had searched the area high and low that day, yet not found what she was looking for. It was with a heavy heart that she trooped past the library, not realising that a young girl was coming out the doors, a pile of books stacked in her arms. They collided hard, Mrs' Figg stumbled back in surprise, the girl hit the ground and the books flew into the air. And stayed there.

For a moment silence rang around them as girl and woman stared at the books, mouths open in surprise. Then the girl lunged forward and the books plummeted towards the ground. Mrs. Figg managed to catch two as they went down, the girl caught three more, only one hit the ground and bounced to land on Mr's Figgs shoe. She swept it up quickly and added it to her pile before offering the girl her hand and helping her to her feet.

"Well now, wasn't that exciting." Mrs. Figg smiled at the shocked child.

Fear and confusion washed over the small girl. She looked like she might have wanted to run, but Mrs. Figg still held three of her books.

"Don't worry, dear." She smiled again, trying to set the girl at ease. "I won't tell anyone, you're not the first person I've seen do such things."

Those were the magic words it seemed. The girl smiled, her face lighting up.

"I'm not? You mean there are others like me?"

"Oh yes dear, many others." Mrs. Figg gestured to a park bench. "Come, sit with me. We will talk and I will do my best to explain."

The girl followed her to the bench and sat, Mr's Figg noticed she keep some distance between them, obviously not as trusting as she seemed. She sat for a moment and examined the girl. She seemed to be about 7 or 8 years old, well cared for and healthy. Her dark hair was extremely curly and bushy and her brown eyes sharp and clear. She seemed smart and well mannered, perfect.

"My name is Arabella Figg." She told the girl kindly.

"Hermione Granger." The girl replied with a smile.

"Tell me, Hermione." She grinned and leaned forward to whisper. "How long have you been able to do magic?"

"I knew it was magic!" Hermione cried, before shushing herself suddenly and dropping to a near whisper. "Sorry, I got excited. So it is magic?"

"Oh yes, it's magic all right. You needn't worry, you are not the first, nor will you be the last child to do such things. Now tell me, where are your parents? They might want to know everything I have to say too."

But Hermione's parents didn't need to be found, they were already hurrying over, worry on their faces to see their daughter talking to a stranger. She knew the rules and was usually very good at obeying them. It took some quick talking. But Mrs. Figg managed to convince both parents that she was neither crazy nor trying to fool them. She could explain everything going on with Hermione and much more. They just had to trust her. After some more taking, they did. They found an outdoor cafe and spent an hour or two discussing the wizarding world and the basics of what it would mean for their daughter. Finally, near the end, as everyone was getting ready to go home, Mr's Figg set in motion her plan.

"Oh, Hermione darling." She motioned the girl closer. "I was wondering. Would you like to meet another child like yourself?"

"Another child? Like me?" Hermione glowed with happiness. "I would love to."

"I had hoped you might." Mrs. Figg smiled softly. "I will bring him around one day to meet you. His name's Harry, Harry Potter. And I think he would love to be friends."

XXX

August 1987

"Hermione!" Her mum's call floated up the stairs. "Darling, Harry's here."

Hermione smiled and jumped off her bed. She had only known Harry for 3 weeks. But one look at the boy had been all it took. Hermione's parents had brought him into the house and proceeded to feed him everything he could eat and more. The family had explained to him everything that Mrs. Figg had explained to them. However, under Mrs. Figgs's advisement, they told him not to tell his Aunt and Uncle. The Grangers could already tell that this would not help Harry in any way they were sure it would mean he would no longer be able to come over to see Hermione. So they contented themselves with inviting Harry over after school every day and every weekend. Something the Dursely's seemed content with if he was out of their house and their sight, they were happy.

Harry himself had never been happier. Hermione had taken an instant liking to him, and, after realising he was smart and had a capacity to learn, they often spent time reading and exploring a range of topics together. Hermione's parents adored the boy and vowed to feed him up. They asked a few people in their family and friend groups if they had some spare clothes that might fit the boy. They knew his family would object to new clothes, but they couldn't argue with "hand-me-downs" that was just "lying around". So now Harry and a full belly every day, and clothes that fit him.

Hermione bounded down the stairs a grin on her face, only for it to be whipped clean off when she caught sight of her new friend. Harry was hurt. He had a split lip, one arm was wrapped tight around his side and he seemed to shuffle and limp as he moved his way into the lounge for the entrance to the house.

"Oh, Harry." Hermione was at his side in an instant, leading him to a chair even as her mum rushed to the kitchen for their first aid kit. "What happened?"

"Fell down," Harry mumbled, his eyes on his feet.

"Don't you lie to me, Harry James Potter." Hermione propped her hands on her hips and tried her best Mum expression. "Who was it, the boy or the man?"

"Man." His lip throbbed and he winced.

Hermione sighed and sunk to her knees, grabbing his hands. "Why don't we try that spell again, the one from the book Mrs. Figg gave us? See if it works this time?"

Harry shrugged but sat up a little straighter and scrunched up his nose. The children grasped hands tightly, bowed their heads and concentrated hard.

"Episkey!" Both children cried.

Nothing happened, but that didn't seem to surprise, nor dissuade them.

"Episkey!" They tried again, still nothing.

"Come on, magic," Hermione whispered. "Heal, Harry, you've done it before. Episkey."

It was only a whisper, a sliver of magic. But they both felt it. The throbbing in Harry's lip stopped, so did the bleeding. It didn't fully heal, but it did look much better. They grinned at each other. Ever since Harry's first day at Hermione house they had been trying to control their accidental magic. The results had been patchy at best, but the friends thought they were getting the hang of it. The book Mr's Figg had given them, an old book of random household spells had certainly helped things along.

Hermione's mother bustled back into the room, the first-aid kit in hand and Hermione hopped out of the way, her mother would fix the things they couldn't. Harry relaxed onto the arms of the first woman he had ever meet that made him wish he had a mother.

XXX

The next day

Professor McGonagall tugged her jacket into place until it fell perfectly. She had transfigured her normal green robes into a tailored pantsuit in the same hue. Something she hadn't worn for an extremely long time. She tried not to fidget in the strange clothing as she waits patiently for the woman she was here to meet. She didn't have to wait long. A soft crack sounded behind her, then a tall slender woman stepped around a brick wall to join her.

"Minerva." Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, held out her hand to the taller woman. "How delightful to see you again."

"Amelia." McGonagall clasped her old friend's hand and offered her a rare smile. "I appreciate you contacting the school to inform us of your concerns, and you allowing me to come along, I know you requested the Headmaster."

Dumbledore, however, had refused to leave the school for something so mundane as magical fluctuation in a muggle area. He was sure it was simply a muggle-born experiencing higher than usual bouts of accidental magic. He had sent McGonagall in his stead. That was his third mistake and looking back, this is most likely when things truly began to unravel for him.

"Think nothing of it. It's good to keep the lines of communication open, especially when it comes to underage magic. I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, most likely just some accidental magic."

"I'm sure, you never can be too safe though."

Amelia took a moment to neaten her grey work dress and fix her hair, which sat in a perfect, iron-grey bob. Then both women pocketed their wands, nodded and strode off down the street. It didn't take them long to reach the house in question. It was a muggle home, a large and well-kept one with immaculate lawns and a neat, white picket fence. The women exchanged a glance then as one stepped up to the threshold. Minerva rapped smartly on the door, then both women waited.

It only took a moment for steps to sound inside the house, then the door opened and both women looked down at a pile of riotous curls and in enquiring expression. Big brown eyes gazed up at them, taking in their clothes, their hair, and, to Amelia's surprise, the shape of her wand in her pocket.

"Hello." Hermione greeted cautiously. "How can I help you?"

Amelia smiled down at the girl. "Hello, I'm Amelia Bones, this is my friend Minerva McGonagall."

"I'm Hermione Granger." She hadn't stepped out of the doorway, nor did she seem inclined to invite them in. "Do you need something?"

Any answer was cut off as another voice echoed from the house. "Hermione?"

A boy stepped through from the lounge and made his way over to the girl. Both women gaped down at him, taking in the shock of black hair, the emerald eyes, and most tellingly, the scar on his forehead.

"Harry," McGonagall whispered.

It took a second for her brain to catch up, and that's when she noticed his condition. The dark circles under his eyes, the malnourished look, the lip, a black eye, his thinness and worst of all the guarded look he gave them and the way he gripped Hermione's hand suddenly.

"Oh, Harry." She reached for the boy, intending to hug him to her.

And that's when it happened.

Hermione shoved the boy behind her, threw her hand out in defence and screamed.

"NO!"

Magic shoved the two women, sending them stumbling back three steps. Both had wands in their hands in seconds, shields sliding into place effortlessly. On the doorstep, Hermione was breathing hard, Harry tucked safely behind her. On the outside, she kept up her fierce expression, in the inside she was panicking. She had attacked people, with magic. And they could attack her back, and she didn't know any spells. Still, she had to protect Harry.

Amelia recovered first, lowering her wand and relaxing her stance. She tucked her wand securely in her pocket again and held out her hands in the universal sign of peace. Minerva quickly followed suit.

"Hermione." Amelia smiled. "I'm sorry. That whole situation got out of hand very quickly. We didn't realise Harry was here with you."

She shot a quick, questioning look at Minerva. The taller woman stepped forward.

"I surprised you." She looked the young girl in the eyes. "I apologise. That was not my intention. It's just I have been looking for Harry for a long time. It was a shock to see him-" She struggled for a moment, her throat tightening. "To see him looking less than well."

"Hermione!" rushed footsteps could be heard through the house and suddenly Helena Granger burst into the entrance hall.

It took two seconds for her to take in the scene. The two women, a defiant and scared Hermione and a confused Harry. She took two steps, bringing her in front of her daughter. Her chin rose and she pinned the two witches with a hard stare.

"Who are you and what do you want with my daughter?"

The witches exchanged glances, then Amelia sighed and pushed a hand through her hair. This had escalated quickly, in directions neither of them was expecting.

"Mrs. Granger, my name is Amelia Bones, my friend and colleague is Minerva McGonagall." She sighed. "We have much to discuss, might we come in?"

It took a few minutes for everything to settle down. Mr. Granger was fetched, both witches apologised to the children and Mrs. Granger for the misunderstanding and Hermione, blushing to the roots of her hair, apologised profusely for knocking the witches back.

Finally, all parties were settled in the lounge with teacups in hand.

"Well, I think there's some explaining to do. On all sides of things." Amelia pinned Hermione with a calculating stare. "Tell me, Miss Granger, how did you first learn of magic?"

AN: And I'm going to leave that there. The next chapter will be a bit more interesting. Just trying to set the scene atm. Read and review. Thanks.