Disclaimer: If I owned this book series, how could it be a fanfiction? Think about it…

A.N: Short chapter, lots of content.

Chapter Six: Meet the Potters

Hermione knew Harry had arrived when the group of young Ravenclaws bolted from the library. What she hadn't counted on was him bringing his parents.

After all she, Harry, and Ron had been through in their memory, meeting Lily and James face-to-face was a little like getting hit in the stomach with a wrecking ball.

Harry really did look just like his father.

"Alright, Granger, let's make this quick." Harry drawled, sitting down arrogantly across from her and producing a few rolls of parchment. "The staff have asked that we do something about a group of third year Ravenclaws who have formed a group idolizing and imitating the Marauders. I've decided to delegate it to the Ravenclaw prefects."

"Fine." Hermione agreed. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't ask for your opinion. I told you I'd decided."

His father snickered. Lily smirked. Hermione blushed.

"Also, you have to start planning commencement. Hagrid said that…"

Hermione tuned Harry out, taking this opportunity to study Lily and James. They were older than the photos Harry had of them—James was graying around the temples, but was still arrogantly handsome. Lily was flawlessly beautiful in a way only magic could achieve—it surprised Hermione to think that Lily was vain, she had always pictured her as the bookish type.

"…so get started soon." Harry finished, tossing the folder at Hermione.

"Shouldn't we work together?" she asked. Harry laughed.

"I don't have time for you. I have to go get your friends Malfoy and Zabini expelled for placing dungbombs in my dorm and slandering my father. Good day."

As she watched Harry, Lily, and James walk away, she idly wondered how they could ever have joined Voldemort.

Then, a disturbing thought struck her.

In a world where Hagrid was headmaster, Bella Lestrange was a children's author, Draco was the Boy-Who-Lived, and Harry was a horse's arse…who was the Dark Lord?

"Blaise!" Hermione called, running after the dark haired boy as he exited the Hall. He was wearing his Quidditch robes and carrying a broom, but he still spun around with a big, eager smile on his face.

"Hey Herm!" he cried, seeping her into his arms and spinning her around. "The Potters are trying to get me expelled and you didn't write that essay for me! Today sucks!"

He was laughing, though, as he set her down. It suddenly occurred to Hermione that Blaise was quite good-looking.

"What's the Dark Lord's real name?" she asked, wiping the smile off his face. He shifted uncomfortably, looking like he wanted to jump on his broom and fly away. In fact, he started to, but Hermione grabbed the straw and jerked it away from him. He began to whine.

"Don't play dumb, Herm. Come to practice and then you, me, and Draco can go to Hogsmeade for drinks. Come on, be a sport."

"Tell me!"
"You know!"

"I want to make sure!"

"Make sure! Good lord, Herm, how can you not be sure of something like that!"

"Blaise!"

"Hermione, you and I both know it's Remus Lupin!" Blaise bellowed, causing everyone, including Hermione, to stop dead in their tracks and stare at him. He jerked the broom away from her angrily, but when he saw the look on her face, his anger faded.

"Herm? Herm? Hermione?" he called, shaking her gently.

"How about that drink?" she replied faintly.