Author's Note: Hi ya'll! If you liked Codex Alera you'll probably like this story, as it's initially gonna have a similar feel. I'm gonna write out the first year for this premise and judge whether or not to continue by the response. As a result, the first year is going to seem a little rushed. If the story is popular enough the genre will switch to mystery for subsequent years.

I'm gonna warn you that Hermione's gonna take a lot of L's upfront, but don't worry, she'll get some really impressive wins as the story goes on. I make no promises to stick to cannon storylines or to keep characters the same, and I may use your knowledge against you. Be warned.

XOXOXOX

Fourth Year

Hermione was too late. She'd unraveled enough of the mystery to realize that someone very, very much wanted Harry Potter to win the Triwizard Tournament and it meant something very very bad.

She'd snuck into the maze using his invisibility cloak, and she'd tried to find Harry and tell him to forfeit.

But just when she'd found him, found Cedric as well, the two boys grasped the Cup simultaneously and blinked out of existence…

Well, she supposed that was to be expected. Oh, what could she do? Why oh why hadn't Dumbledore believed her about Harry being antisabotaged? It was all so obvious in retrospect, Ronald had even warned her about it in that roundabout, idiotic way of his. Perhaps she should send up a signal flare, explain to the headmaster-

But what if he was in on it? It was a dreadful thought, but Hermione had been betrayed by someone she'd cared dearly about before.

Professor McGonagall.

Hermione's heart stuttered. Was that why Dumbledore had dismissed her evidence? But that wasn't fair! She may have been a failure of a witch, but she was still a brilliant student… A… A clever schemer, if nothing else...

But what other option did she have but to trust Dumbledore? It wasn't like going herself would do any good. She could barely summon a pencil, let alone perform any curses that could do any real harm. If Harry and Cedric couldn't handle whatever they'd gotten themselves into, the two most powerful students in Hogwarts, then weak, helpless Hermione would hardly be able to help.

Well…

It wasn't like that had ever stopped her before.

Hermione hesitated and gave her lip one last nervous chew. Then she grasped the cup.

She found herself in a graveyard. There were masked figures in dark cloaks, encircling Harry and Cedric. None of the death eaters had noticed her which was… was… It was something at least.

"Kill the spare," commanded Lord Voldemort's cold voice. There was a flash of green light, and Cedric fell.

Once she would have cried out, been shocked by such violence, but now… Now Hermione was just relieved it wasn't Harry. Hmm… Voldemort had said spare hadn't he? Which implied that he needed Harry. For his resurrection? But why Harry? Harry was no powerful wizard, it just didn't make any- now wasn't the time to be worrying about such details. What was important was that whatever Voldemort had planned for Harry would take some time.

Yes... So… It was clearly time to go crying for help. She was out of her depth. She needed to go get Albus Dumbledore. Get him here. Him and half the ministry, there was no need to do things by half.

She grasped the cup again. Nothing happened.

Oh flobberworms. Of course. It was a one way portkey.

Why in the world wouldn't it be?

Hermione Granger, only marginally more magically powerful than a squib, was stuck in an unknown graveyard surrounded by dozens of powerful death eaters and Lord Voldemort himself. It was up to her to foil the Dark Lord's rebirth, save her best friend Harry, and somehow find a way for the two of them to escape. Neither he nor she could apparate, they had no portkey, they didn't even have brooms.

Well… At least it wasn't the absolute worst situation the two of them had ever been in.

XOXOXOX

Prior to Hogwarts

Hermione blinked at the black cat sitting on the dining room table.

This certainly threw a wrench in her plans. Hermione sighed. She had always known that she was going to graduate valedictorian of her class at 16, get a doctorate from Harvard, become a world famous scientist, and then perhaps be elected prime minister and see Britain through some terrible threat. She wanted to save lives rather than teeth- not that there was anything wrong with being a lowly dentist of course. But Hermione knew she was different from her parents, from even the smartest other children in all her gifted classes, she was special- that's what all her teachers said- and she owed it to the world to put her brains to use and really make a difference.

But well, she wanted to be able to turn into a cat more than all that so she'd be going to Hogwarts instead.

Professor McGonagall returned back to being a witch.

Hermione wondered how long it would take her to do that. Perhaps a few years. Common sense deemed that any transformation to one's own shape should be dangerous, she didn't want to find her skull shrinking into a cat while her brain stayed human-sized. First she'd need to learn how to turn one thing into another like a knife into a spoon for example. Although of course, scientific sense wondered where all the energy from breaking the conservation of mass went. Perhaps Professor McGonagall had turned into a heavy cat? But then what about the change in chemica-

Hermione shook her head. This was a distraction from the real issue. Why would Professor McGonagall be dressed in such strange clothes? Hermione inferred that witches lived in a separate world which was also why she'd never heard of them. Why had she inquired about whether Hermione had enchanted Mum's coffee maker? Hermione hypothesized that witches were isolated from the real world, which most likely meant that a good number of witches were born from witches. Why had Hermione never heard of witches or wizards before? More support for her guesses, which all pointed to one conclusion, which was Hermione's greatest concern.

"Do children with witch and wizard parents get to do magic before Hogwarts?" Hermione inquired testily. "Don't they have an advantage? Why wasn't I informed of being a witch earlier so I could catch up?" Actually, that question answered itself. "Is this kind of blatant favoritism common at Hogwarts? A month to prepare is hardly enough."

"Yes, yes, school policy, far too common, and I fear that you're correct," Professor McGonagall answered, sighing. "You are what's known as a muggleborn. Muggles are people like your parents, without magic. I will warn you that there are those who will think less of you for your heritage. But I can assure you that in House Gryffindor that kind of backwards thinking is not tolerated."

So, it was a racial metaphor then. Or perhaps a gender one. In any case, the wizarding world was prejudiced against her. But where did that prejudice come from? Hermione guessed that it was a relic of the whole burning witches thing, or perhaps it had no reason to exist at all. Prejudice didn't have to have an origin, it all stemmed from tribalism afterall, which probably predated witches and wizards as that had evolved back when they'd all been chimps fighting over the best part of the river. Actually, she was getting ahead of herself. Could animals become witches and wizards as well? Was there a secret society of ruthless magical chimps she should worry about? Hermione shook her head. All that aside…

If the world of witches and wizards was small enough to feasibly be kept secret, and if the majority of witches and wizards came from magical rather than nonmagical parents it strongly suggested that magic was inheritable. Which suggested that it was genetic as opposed to something mystical like The Force in Star Wars.

"Is there any difference between muggleborns like me, and uh…" Well it was a little insulting to compare them to dogs, but Hermione didn't know a better word for it. "Purebred wizards? In terms of their magic I mean?"

Professor McGonagall grimaced. "Of course not." The Professor said passionately. "Do not listen to anyone who tells you that! Pureblood, halfblood, muggleborn- it makes no difference. Yes the purebloods have an advantage at first, but in a few years you'll be all caught up."

A few years?!

Hermione made a promise to herself to do all she could to catch up before the start of school, and insisted on purchasing her textbooks at the earliest opportunity. A few days later, Hermione could only purse her lips at the unfairness of it all when she read in Hogwarts A History that students were supposed to get their acceptance letters on their eleventh birthday. Well her letter had arrived in late July, and it should have come the previous September!

They were trying to keep her down, but they'd soon learn that Hermione Granger could do anything if she studied hard enough!

XOXOXOX

First Year

"Flipendo!" Gregory Goyle said, knocking Hermione off her feet while the rest of the Slytherin boys chortled. The fresh ink from her transfiguration notes she'd taken so carefully smeared onto her charms homework.

Hermione clenched her wand. That was enough! Draco Malfoy was one thing, but she was at least a better witch than Gregory Goyle! She didn't even know if the dunce could read. She gathered her magic, her anger, her focus, and screamed, "Flipendo!"

Goyle's hair blew back slightly and the Slytherins burst into laughter. Hermione sniffed, refusing to let her humiliation show. What had she done wrong? Her wand movement? But she'd waved exactly as the textbook described. She'd even said 'flee' as the pronunciation guide in the appendix had stated. Goyle had said 'flip', so why was his spell so much stronger?

"Aww, look at her go," the prat, Draco Malfoy, said smugly. "You can almost see the steam coming out of her ears, she's thinking so hard. She's trying so hard not to see the truth. You're a mudblood so your magic suc-"

"Flipendo!" Ronald Weasley bellowed, his wand movement all over the place, his pronunciation sloppy. It didn't matter, his spell still knocked half the Slytherin boys off their feet.

"You won't be able to protect your little mudblood pets forever, Weasley," Malfoy said, before he and the rest of the Slytherin boys fled. They were bullies afterall, and bullies were cowards. So why weren't they afraid of Hermione? She supposed she was still weak. Ron was still stronger. He had come from a wizarding family, so she supposed it was to be expected. She hadn't caught up in the first few weeks as she'd hoped, despite reading ahead in the textbook, answering all the questions in class, and doing her very best.

"Don't think this means I like you or anything," said Ron, helping her to her feet. "I still think you're an annoying know-it-all. But if Malfoy gives you trouble again, tell me."

Hermione thanked Ron for his help, but didn't tell him about the smudge of dirt on his nose. Afterall, she didn't want to be a know-it-all.

That night, she conducted another round of tests on the spell flipendo, trying to figure out what mindstate, wand movements, and pronunciation led to the best result. She would become at least as proficient as the well-meaning but rather slow-witted Ronald Weasley.

But her experiment yielded the same results as always. If she just followed the textbook she got the best results, and that was only a slight breeze. What was Ron doing that she wasn't? She'd copied everything: his pronunciation, his wand work, and every possible mindstate she could think of. What was she doing wrong? What was she missing? How could he be a better wizard than her? It would be one thing if he studied hard and applied himself, but he always waited until the last second to do his homework, and sat in the back of class making snarky comments to Harry Potter. A boy like that couldn't be better than her! He just couldn't! So then… Then why was he?

She started to shiver, and tried her best not to think about the obvious answer.

XOXOXOX

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were whispering to each other, their backs leaning against the supports of the stone bridge. Hermione looked at her feet, pressed her transfiguration books to her chest, and hurried past them. She didn't want any trouble, she just wanted to get to the great hall and eat some lunch.

"Hey you, mudblood, I don't like the way you're looking at me," Malfoy said, and Hermione didn't even need to look at him to tell he was sneering.

"What's your problem?" Dean Thomas asked. "Have I ever done anything to you? Why do you even hate muggleborns anyways?"

Malfoy smirked, drew his wand, and advanced upon poor Dean. Seamus Finnigan looked like he wanted very much to defend his friend, a lot of people looked like they very much wanted to do something, but they were all too scared of Malfoy. Hermione wished she could put a stop to it, but the last few times she'd confronted Malfoy he'd cursed her, and laughed at her attempts at retaliation, and it had been so, so… Hermione clenched her fists, and hurried up the stairs to the transfiguration classroom.

"Draco Malfoy is picking on Dean Thomas at the stone bridge on the first floor," Hermione informed Professor McGonagall helpfully.

"I see Miss Granger. Perhaps you should get a prefect, professors don't normally get involved in schoolyard squabbles," said Professor McGonagall absent-mindedly, marking homework. "By the way, I read your essay on the basic theory of transfigurations of substance and it was quite advanced for a first year student. Three points to Gryfindor."

"Thank you," Hermione let herself smile. She had the highest marks of her year, which made her feel like slightly less of an absolute failure. "But you promised me that you wouldn't tolerate prejudice against muggleborns. Were you trying to trick me?"

Professor McGonagall sighed. "No, no. I suppose you're right Miss Granger. Lead the way."

Hermione quickly led the professor to Malfoy. Surprisingly, a trio of older Gryfindors had seen what was going on and interceded on Dean's behalf. They were fighting Malfoy, flashes of light erupting from their wands. Unfortunately, they were getting trounced. By a single spoiled first year, who only knew a handful of basic curses. That was somehow all Malfoy needed to terrorize any student in Hogwarts that wasn't a Weasley. It was disheartening.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. "That will be quite enough Draco Malfoy, Oliver Wood, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson. Fighting in the halls, what is this school coming to?"

Malfoy glared at Professor McGonagall. Professor McGonagall glared back. And for a terrifying moment, Hermione thought he would somehow overpower the professor as well. "Of course professor," Malfoy said eventually. "I apologize for fighting in the hall. It won't happen again. Crabbe, Goyle, let's go. Oh and Granger. I won't forget this lesson you've taught me. I'll be sure to thank you for it later."

Hermione's eyes widened. Really, in front of a professor?

Professor McGonagall nodded. "There. All sorted. Is that to your satisfaction Miss Granger?"

"He threatened me, professor," Hermione squeaked. "You heard him."

'Nonsense," said Professor McGonagall. "But if he does harm you, you tell me and I'll have a discussion with Professor Snape."

Hermione sighed. She supposed that would have to be enough.

While she was finally eating lunch, Ronald Weasley slid next to her.

"Listen Hermione," he said. "Harry told me that you did what muggle students are supposed to do when dealing with wankers like Malfoy. Get a teacher." He sounded like he couldn't quite believe it. "But that isn't how wizards do things. If Malfoy or one of his goons is giving you a hard time, come to me or Lavender, and we'll get things sorted."

"That's barbaric," Hermione said. Although she supposed that that was just how boys we-

"It's common sense really," Ron said. "I mean, you can't just go to a teacher to protect yourself from You-Know-Who right? You go to your friends or you learn to protect yourself. I mean, what do muggles do to defend themselves against, err, dangerous muggles?"

"We have police," Hermione chirped indignantly. "We don't have to protect ourselves!"

Ron looked at her skeptically. "Really? That sounds mental."

Well, Hermione did suppose that some women carried pepper spray. Perhaps that wouldn't be a bad idea, actually.

Ron's advice turned out to be quite wise. Malfoy's bullying got worse. She told Professor McGonagall who told Professor Snape, who gave a dry laugh. Then, when he saw the woman's stern glare, assured Professor McGonagall that he'd have a word with the boy.

Malfoy's bullying got even worse. Hermione eventually received some pepper spray from her parents, and after Malfoy cursed her already large front teeth to grow the size of hamsters, Hermione had sprayed him in the face.

She received three months detention, was suspended from classes for two weeks, and had received a stern talking to from Professor McGonagall about attacking another student with a weapon like some kind of barbaric mountain troll. Nothing happened to Malfoy. Afterall, he'd attacked using a wand as was proper.

Ron hovered around her after that and after he'd beaten Malfoy in a few fights, the blonde's bullying stopped.

XOXOXOX

"Th-that is inco-correct Mister Malfoy," Professor Quirrell stuttered nervously. "In-inferi are n-not living beings. They are re-reanimated only. Wh-while th-they do respond to sti-stimuli, they are not truly living, for th-they do not gr-grow, or eat, or re-reproduce without a ho-host. I the-theorize th-that they are viral in na-nature."

Hemione smiled. Professor Quirrell's classes were truly a treat. He was the only professor who incorporated scientific ideas into his lectures. She'd heard that he had taught muggle studies prior to teaching defense against the dark arts and it certainly showed… That being said…

"Ahem." Hermione raised her hand. "Not to be nit-picky, but shouldn't you have said hypothesized rather than theorized professor? It's a common mistake, but a hypothesis is a prediction while a theory is the best explanation of a repeatable phenomena. A theory has been tested, and has failed to be disproven."

Draco Malfoy was looking at her like she'd grown a second head, and even Ronald Weasley was mouthing the words 'who cares?' to her.

Professor Quirrell laughed coldly, although Hermione didn't understand the humor in her correction. "You seem to have a basic understanding of biology, which is quite rare even among our kind. Tell me Miss Granger, how old are you? Were you perhaps born at the end of July?"

Well, no she was born in September but she didn't see what that had to do with anything.

"Would you two mudbloods stop fawning over each other?" Malfoy asked smarmily. "Frankly I don't understand the point of any of this. Let's say an inferi really is a virus, whatever that means. I'm sure that it'll do you a lot of good to know it's not alive when one of 'em is eating your face off."

"It m-may n-not seem useful," Professor Quirrell said nervously. "B-but th-this kind of un-understanding about ho-how the in-inferi curse mec-mechanically works m-must have been how the Dark Lord cre-created them where Grindlewald failed. I be-believe that the wa-way to neu-neutralize in-feri mu-must be some kind of vaccine."

Hermione could honestly say that she'd not thought she'd study epidemiology in Hogwarts, but here she was, and it was awesome.

"Why do we only do bookwork in your class?" Malfoy asked angrily. "It's a waste of time, and I actually think the Dark Arts is an important class. Can we do something more hands-on? You know, so when the Dark Lord returns we're not all killed?"

What a prattling prat, as if anyone was stupid enough to think some that stup- And the entire class was cheering Malfoy on. Slytherins, Gryfindors, even Ronald Weasley of all people. Somehow, a class with legitimately exciting ideas had managed to quell a hundred years of bickering between Malfoys and Weasleys. Learn something new and useful? Never.

"No Mister Malfoy," said Professor Quirrell, laughing coldly. "I have long coveted this position. I will not waste my year teaching it as any other doddering fool of a wizard would. If you were not such an utter imbecile you would be on your knees thanking me for deigning to share my secrets." Professor Quirrell looked right at her and gave her a tight-lipped smile. Then he blinked and began to sweat. "I-I am terr-terribly sorry Mister Mal-Malf-"

"Denied," Malfoy said, his voice furious. "I know why Dumbledore gave the position to a filthy mudblood! Because he wanted to sabotage me! He saw how powerful I was, and he's scared of me being stronger than him. And I know why you're forcing us to do all this muggle bookwork. Because you can't actually do the magic yourself, isn't that right? Go on, perform one of your spells. Do it!"

"P-people like y-you c-can't bully me a-anymore," Professor Quirrell stuttered, getting out his wand. "I w-won't b-be pushed ar-around any lon-"

"Expelliarmus!" Malfoy interrupted, catching Quirrell's wand. He tossed it back to the professor. "Now do it to me. If you can."

The professor looked around the room, as if to ask for help. But he was a professor, and Malfoy was just a student. Please, Hermione wished, just prove that you can do the spell and shut the arrogant little toerag up.

"Ex-expelliarmus!" Professor Quirrell said. The wand jerked in Malfoy's hand but did not break free. The Slytherins, and a good number of Gryfindors too (halfbloods and purebloods only), exploded in laughter. Quirrell curled in on himself.

"Thank you Mister Quirrell, for an excellent lesson," Malfoy said, chuckling. He shot a glance at Ron. "It wasn't anything I needed to learn, but it was informative for the rest of the students. And let me give you some free career advice, Mister Quirrell. Go back to muggle studies, where your kind belong. But stay out of the Dark Arts, Father says this class is actually important."

And Malfoy, the Slytherins, and a good number of Gryfindors strolled out of the class, Quirrell powerless to stop them.

"It's Doctor," Quirrell whispered, in a cold, terrible voice. "Not professor, not mister, Doctor."

XOXOXOX

Hermione tried to correct Ron's awful pronunciation, as thanks for always helping her with Malfoy.

The barbaric boy ignored her, and waved his wand around like a clueless dunce.

"You do it then if you're so clever."

"Wingardium Leviosa," Hermione said, and her feather gently floated off the table, higher and higher. She shot Ron a smug look as the rightful order of the universe was restored.

It had taken her longer than she'd expected, but she would be a better witch than Ronald Weasley.

XOXOXOX

Harry clung onto the troll desperately, his wand stuck halfway up its nose. She had to do something, protect him somehow! That was when she noticed it, the troll's club was on the ground, surrounded by shattered tiles, and she realized exactly what she needed to do.

The club was quite a bit heavier than a feather, and her difficulty had always been power. But this was the time in a story- when everything was on the line- where the heroine's powers revealed themselves! Right?

"Wingardium Leviosa," Hermione said desperately. The club didn't even budge. Even now? Why wouldn't her stupid magic work? Why did it work for Draco Malfoy and Gregory Goyle, but not for her? It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair! She was doing everything right, she was sure of it, and she would lift the stupid club. "Wingardium Leviosa! Wingardium Leviosa!"

The club rose then. Into the air, as if it were as light as a feather. And then Hermione released the spell, and a moment later, the club came crashing down on the troll.

Hermione could have cried in happiness. Her magic had appeared at last! All her problems had just been about magical strength, and now that she'd fully awakened her powers Malfoy and Goyle wouldn't be able to pick on her anymore and maybe she'd be the one saving Ron for a-

"That was a great spell Ron," said Harry, wiping troll bogeys off on his cloak. "You really saved me. Thanks."

"I- It was nothing really. I just saw her casting the spell so I… I tried it." Ron's voice said quietly. She noticed him staring at her, his wand still outstretched. He looked almost as heartbroken as she felt. He'd been the one who'd cast the spell. Obviously. "If Hermione hadn't been here we'd have been finished."

She could finally deny the truth no longer. It didn't matter how much she studied, how many textbooks she read, what spells she learned or how long or cleverly she practiced them. He had more magic than her. Ronald Weasley would always be a better wizard than Hermione Granger by simple virtue of his bloodline.

He knew it. She knew it. They both hated it, but it was what it was.

Ron was the strong one. He protected them and the rest of the Gryfindor first years from bullies.

Hermione was the smart one. She discovered that the forbidden corridor protected the philosopher's stone and tricked Hagrid into revealing how to get past Fluffy.

And Harry… Harry was the hero. And after Albus Dumbledore departed for the Ministry of Magic, just as Professor Snape was about to strike, Harry convinced Ron and Hermione to help him steal the stone first.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please leave a review, or a favorite, or a follow if you'd like this story to move beyond the first few chapters, but most of all, continue reading as I post new chapters!