PROLOGUE

The usual twinkle in his crystallised-sapphire eyes had not been present for the last hour. Instead, Dumbledore wore a look of curiosity and sympathy for the girl, well woman, sat in front of him. Most would swear disbelief at the girl's tale, however Dumbledore had lived many a year and was rarely surprised but much any more. Alas, this one tale was a fable he believed he'd never hear.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir. It is crucial that no one knows of my true identity. 'Tis all I ask of you, Sir." The blue-eyed witch confidently sat across from the wise professor, showing no signs of weakness, only strength.

"Miss Hart, you have my full trust in you. Therefore, no one shall know of your true self, unless you wish them to." The Professor replied, respect evident in his promise to the witch.

"Thank you, sir. These are dark times, the first for many. They will be terrified, they will need guidance. For us, these dark times are a mere repeat of a dreaded past," The young witch had a pained look on her face as she looked past the Professor and spoke to his magnificent phoenix instead, "they will need more than we did, Sir." Fawkes flew over to his admirer and nipped her finger.

"I could not agree more, Miss Hart. I could not agree more. Alas, Miss Hart, I believe the time has come for you to make your way down to the Great Hall." The Professor stood, extending his hand out to the witch.

Miss Hart gratefully took his hand, firmly grasping it. Before she could release his hand however, he took hers into both of his hands.

"Thank you, Miss Hart." Dumbledore said earnestly.

"It is I who should be thanking you, Sir. You're doing much more for me than I for you."

"I believe your presence at Hogwarts will do more than you think."

Miss Hart eyed the Professor, hope clear in her eyes for only a second. Regaining her composure she left Dumbledore's office.

CHAPTER ONE

Sirius Black had been Harry's last surviving chance of a true family. Ever since the end of third year he had dreamed of a life where he and Sirius would live together, go flying together, drink together, with Harry confiding in Sirius, and Sirius comforting Harry. Those dreams had gone through the veil along with Sirius. Now, all Harry has are memories of the man he needs most.

Summer at Privet Drive had always been painful for Harry, with the regular beatings from Dudley and the daily physically draining chores from Aunt Petunia. This one year, put those struggles to shame. Harry was no stranger to grief, he had after all watched Cedric be murdered by Wormtail. A memory that still haunts his nightmares. Sirius, however was his godfather. And his godfather held the promise of his own family.

This summer, therefore, Harry found himself grateful for his chores for it kept him engaged. If he was busy he could not focus on the empty void inside that threatened to swallow him whole. So he threw himself into his Aunt Petunia's demands, whether it be cleaning the garage, trimming the rose bushes, painting the fence or slaving away in front of the stove, Harry completed them without complaint.

If it wasn't for the Order and his friends, Harry may have just forgotten the events at the ministry. Their constant letters made sure he didn't. The Order made Harry promised he would send a letter to them every three days ensuring he was "okay", whatever that may be. Harry was able to complete that without much thought. However, it was his friends letters he struggled with.

Harry sat in his bedroom, scribbling away furiously on his Charms essay, essentially writing nonsense but carrying on just for the sake of it. Going on to his fifth foot of parchment, Hedwig flew into his room, bringing a pile of letters with her as usual.

Harry dropped his quill and sighed, placing his head in his hands. He loved his friends, he truly did, but he dreaded their letters usually filled with sympathy. Inside he knew they cared and this was their way of showing it but he needed them to remember he was still their friend, and not a boy who had just lost his godfather.

Gathering his strength, he walked towards Hedwig, allowed her to nibble his fingers playfully.

"Hello, girl." He spoke softly to the bird, ruffling her feathers. Gentling untying the string for her leg, Hedwig flied to her perch, eating her owl treats contently.

Harry took the first letter from the stack, and taking a deep breath in as he began to open it.

Harry,

Alright, mate. Mum is driving me up the bloody wall this summer. Think she's worrying about you too much. Got me doing all these chores. I've degnomed the garden so many times this year the gnomes and me are on a first name basis with each other.

How you doing, mate? Can't imagine how much you're hurting. Just know I'm here, alright?

Ron.

Harry couldn't help but laugh at Ron's feeble attempt of comfort for Harry. Truthfully, it was refreshing. No deep apologies, or sympathies. Just an offer of support. Opening the next letter he felt himself shift uncomfortably as he recognized the faux elegant writing.

Dearest Harry,

How are you? I miss you terribly. I've been pestering mum every day to ask Dumbledore to allow you to stay.

I know you're going through a lot, just remember you can talk to me. I know I'm not Hermione or Ron but I do care for you.

Yours,

Ginny.

It wasn't that Harry disliked Ginny, it was the fact that still after so long he felt uncomfortable around her in fear of encouraging her feelings towards him. She was funny, attractive, kind but she just wasn't for him.

The last letter put a smile on his face as he recognised the perfect calligraphy of his best friend.

Dear Harry,

How are you? I hope your Aunt, Uncle and cousin are not treating you as poorly as they have previously. You know I am no malicious person and would never hex someone unarmed, however I have often daydreamed about throwing them a few lovely hexes, some more permanent than Hagrid's pigs tail for Dudley, that's for sure. Sorry, going off topic here.

Anyway, from your last letters it's clear you are keen to stay busy. In that way I can understand. There are a lot of things the others and you do not know about me, some of it not even Dumbledore knows. I know you'll be questioning why I have kept things from you, but know it was never done to hurt you, they just never came up. Just know I understand why you need to keep busy at the moment.

So, I went to the library. (Don't think I don't realise you smirked whilst reading that bit). And I thought why not keep yourself busy in a way that'll prepare you for what is ahead. Defense. No not magical defense, since we do not want a repeat of underage magic, but physical defense. The whole reason we started the DA was to prepare us for the war. But we're still unprepared in more ways than one.

Sorry, going off topic again. Anyway, I know you're not allowed to leave the house.

Oh, by the way, for the History of Magic essay there was no Goblin Rebellion in 1200. Check page 318.

Love,

Hermione.

Usually Harry found Hermione's letter very straightforward and caring, however this left him asking more questions than ever before. What had Hermione never told him? She was his best friend, she knew everything about him and he always thought it was mutual buy apparently not. She was right in the fact he needed to be kept busy and that learning defense was a brilliant way to do it. But what on earth was she going on about a History of Magic essay? Firstly, he'd already completed it, secondly, it wasn't about Goblin Rebellions, and thirdly, he didn't even ask her about that.

The only way to make any sense from this, Harry decided, is to check his textbook. Flicking through to find page 318 he found a chapter on the 1230 Goblin Revolution. Just before he was about to toss it the side, he thought to himself, Hermione never says anything without a reason. Sighing, he skimmed through the chapter, trying to find some sort of reason for this. Just when he was about to turn the page he found it. It was a quote saying, "it was a day of peace, a day of friendship, a day of realisation" followed by the date 29th of July.

Harry took out a piece of spare parchment and dotted the date down along with the false Goblin Rebellion of 1200. It took him all of a minute to realise Hermione's message. Hermione was somehow going to visit him on the 29th of July at 12 pm. That date was only two days away.

Anxious to see his best friend and hopefully get some answers, Harry spent the next few days preparing himself. Well, as best as he could for he had no idea what Hermione was going to tell him. However, the night before he did his best to sleep, failing miserably and only managing to fall asleep just before dawn.

And this is how Hermione found him; on top of his covers, in only pyjama bottoms, glasses slipping off his nose and his hair… well, not much different from when he's awake. Gently, she pushed a few locks away from his eyes, and as she let her hand caress his cheek he stirred and sighed contently as he lent into her open hand.

"Harry," Hermione chuckled softly, "Harry, I'm here. It's me, Hermione."

"Mmm, 'Mione. Soft, very soft." Harry cooed as he lent further into her hand.

Blushing, Hermione pinched his cheek softly whilst chuckling, "Why, thank you, Harry. That's probably the nicest thing you've said to me."

Harry's eyes began to flutter open as he felt the warmth against his cheek. Not wanting to the soft hand to leave he lent into it once more, but as his mind began to awake he realised he should be alone when he wakes, not with a very soft and warm hand cupping his cheek. Harry opened his eyes sharply, sitting up with a bolt, knocking Hermione of the bed.

"Umph! Merlin, Harry!" She screeched as her head hit the floor. In an attempt to save herself she grabbed his covers, unintentionally pulling Harry down with her. With a second thump, they were both on the floor, trapped in Harry's duvet.

"Hermione! Watch it!"

"You're the one that pushed me off the bed! What a nice "Oh hello Hermione! Boy I've missed you!"

"I'm sorry! But you shocked me!"

"I told you I was coming! Please don't tell me you didn't work out my message?"

"No, no I did! Wait, what's the time?"

"Midday Harry."

"Oh."

"Yes. Oh."

Still on the floor, they stopped the flaying of their limbs and grinned sheepishly at each other before both apologising. Harry detangled himself first and politely pulled Hermione up too, only to then suffocate her in a hug.

"Merlin, Harry. Let me breathe. Usually it's me who's strangling you." Hermione laughed, enjoying the warmth of her best friend.

"Sorry, 'Mione. It's just I've missed you." He grinned into her hair.

"And I you, Harry." Hermione pulled back and examined him in a way Molly Weasley would be proud of.

"Hmm, you have not been eating enough. Nor sleeping enough if the bags under your eyes are anything to go by." She eyed him disapprovingly.

Harry shrugged her off, and glanced to the floor in embarrassment. He just wasn't hungry, nor was he sleeping. But he was too embarrassed to explain that, not wanting to see the pity in her eyes.

Hermione however, just tutted her tongue and pulled out a picnic basket from her wondrous bag. Silently she set out an array of sandwiches and snacks, opening a juice for them each. Harry was waiting for another comment, warning him about eating more, but it never came. Instead, Hermione sat there and nibbled. Never taking her eyes off the window.

Harry desperately wanted to ask her what she was thinking but knew if she were to ask him he wouldn't tell. Instead, they sat in silence, both in their own thoughts. It wasn't until several minutes later Hermione broke the silence.

Hermione sighed, "I suppose you'd like some answers, Harry." It was no question, and Harry did not respond.

"Before I went to Hogwarts something happened, something that still haunts me to this day. I was ten, tired of being bullied because I was smarter than the others, because I didn't fit in, because I was different. I did something, something that I'll never forget that led to my Auntie's death. I watched her bleed out in front of me, her life slowly leave her, but not slowly enough to allow me to help her. I was ten. To this day that memory plays out in my mind nearly every day. The grief that I felt was immense, it hurt so much. More than I thought anything ever could. I had blood on my hands, someone died because of me, that someone was a person who accepted me for me and who had done nothing but protect me. For a year I withdrew myself, my grades slipped for a month or two, I lost weight, I was put into hospital as they were worried about my health. I wasn't released until a month before I got my Hogwarts letter. I knew I had to go, I needed that new start. And when I got that letter I vowed to make sure my Auntie did not die in vain. I vowed to work harder than ever before, I wanted to make her proud. I wanted to prove she didn't die for me for no reason. It hurt. It still hurts. Some days it's okay, others… well, it is far from it. But, I had to forgive myself. I'll never forget, and it'll never stop hurting. But, to make her proud I had to forgive myself."

Harry stared in shock, speechless at Hermione's omission. Of everything he imagined she'd confess it was not this. He could see the tears silently falling on her cheeks. He wanted nothing more than to pull her to him and hold her. But he couldn't move. Instead, she did. She turned towards him, eyes glistening with tears, and spoke so softly, Harry almost didn't hear her.

"No one understood. They told me it wasn't my fault, that I had to let go, that it was what she wanted. I hated everyone because of that."

She cupped his cheek, her thumb tracing circles on his cheek.

"But I do understand Harry. And as much as I hate to say it, they were right about one thing; I had to forgive myself because that is what she would've wanted. And that is what Sirius would want."

Harry instinctively stiffened at his name, struggling to fight back his tears at the harsh truth of her words.

"I don't expect you to forgive yourself straight away, otherwise I'd be nothing more but a hypocrite. It took me years, but do not do what I did Harry. Please do not shut people away. Please."

Hermione was openly crying now. Harry had tears flowing down his cheeks, his inner battle forgotten. He pulled her close and cried into her hair.

"God, it hurts 'Mione. I miss him so much." Harry sobbed.

"I know, Harry. I know."

They held each other for what felt like hours, soaking in the comfort that finally someone else understood what it's like to lose someone. Once their sobs had quieted and their tears stopped, Hermione pulled back and chuckled softly.

"Now, that wasn't the only thing I came here for. I bought you these." She gave him a stack of books all on physical defense and fitness. "I kept myself busy, I still do, so I got you these to study. Sirius would want you to be prepared for this war, and the more I think about it the more I realise how unprepared we are. We are not as experienced as Voldemort and his followers, and we need to match that. We need to take our youth as an advantage using our agility and stamina against their experience. You need to be at the top of your game. So, why not start now?"

Harry wanted to laugh at Hermione's passion for studying, but he knew she was here to help and that this was Hermione's way. He also knew she was right. They were unprepared. As an army, which he hadn't wanted to label themselves as but they undoubtedly were, they needed more training than they were receiving, the ministry proved that. The Death Eaters weren't using Stupefy, they were aiming to kill and harm, not subdue. He knew they, the Order and the DA, needed to learn to fight as warriors.

"Harry, you'll not fight this alone, I know that this stupid prophecy says it's between you and him. But it's not. He has hurt us all, you more than others, but we will be there until the end. We love you Harry." She took his hands and rested her head against his. When he opened his eyes she was gone. This once again left him with more questions. Hermione may be 17, but no one can apparatus silently. And no one can apparatus within the blood wards at Privet Drive. So how did she get here? And how did she leave?