Wow, it has taken a bit of time to post another chapter on this story. It isn't that I didn't want to, I just couldn't concentrate for spit to get anything done. But I am proud of myself, two chapters, one for this story and one for Bound to You. Yay me… Lol It is the new year and I have plans, goals, dreams, and ambition, for this week. We will see how far it takes me. I want to thank you all so very much for your continued support of this story. Your follows, favorites and reviews absolutely make my day. I hope that my muse continues to inspire and keep these fingers typing and I hope that you enjoy this chapter. We are so close to going back, but a few deceased Black's have something to say.

To Serve the Most Noble House of Black

Chapter 9

Kreacher would be the one to save them. Kreacher and this young wisp of a witch, would be the ones to bring honor back to this house. To bring power and insure the progeny of his house. The balance would return to the earth, to the enclave and to the gifts that magic had wrought. This was their destiny.

HGHGHGHGHGHGHGHG

"Kreacher, you must complete the preparations, she must become younger, she must slowly regain the memories of this horrible time so that she can learn, so that she can plan. It cannot be rushed. She must be stronger; she must have the support of a strong family behind her. Take her to Eileen, she will know what to do."

"Walburga, she is with that terrible muggle. You have heard how he treated her…We may be sending this girl from one hell to another!" shrieked Cedrella.

"Kreacher will watch out for her as much as he is able to. Eileen was a smart, resourceful witch while in school. If she meets a little witchling, lost without a name, without a family she will have to do what she should have done all along. We cannot put her with the Flints or the Malfoy or any of our other family. She must be protected and while underage and out of school, she cannot be housed with us. She will immediately be thought of as dark and nothing she says or remembers will be trusted. If they think that she is a seer, they will destroy her. The Prince's will protect her. Evangeline will know when she sees the sign that she belongs to the Black family."

Watching as Hermione seemed to shrink before their eyes, they witnessed her hair become bushier as it had been the first time that they had seen the young witch. Her stature became shorter and her body more compact. She still looked emancipated, like she had suffered a long illness rather than had been through a war. She looked like a young adolescent until she opened her eyes and stared at the elf patting her hair back and at the portraits that seemed to be staring down at her. Her eyes looked much older than her body. The had the look of one that had been to hell and back and was being sent there once again.

"Why?" She croaked, her voice rough from the screams of pain, of grief. "Why must I do this again?"

"Because you are our only hope child!" snarled Phineas. "You were meant to be our savior. Not the Potter brat, not that pansy arsed self-made God. The prophecy was fake. That fraud needed a job, that bastard needed a revamp of his image. People were no longer in awe of the Great Defeater of Grindelwald. History of Magic stagnated even before Binns died and he could not keep his name in the history books because people might look a little bit closer and see that he and the great evil had been lovers and had shared the same ideals. Smart people like you and Tom Riddle and Severus Snape and yes even Sirius would have looked a bit closer at the Master Manipulator and begin to question history, begin to question his motives, his beliefs "His Greater Good".

"Lovely, so I am the Obi-Wan Kenobi of the wizarding world…Does this mean I have "The Force"? Hermione cackled a bit before starting to cough, her body still feeling the effects of the cruciatis curse, she let out a deep moan before the seizing stopped. Still caught in her last thought she had to ask. "Will you be my Leia Skywalker, Phineas? Kreacher can be my Yoda, the ears fit."

Hearing the wards shifting and knowing that Kreacher had already expended so much energy and would not be able to keep re-enforcing the wards and complete the magic that would bring back balance to their world. Walburga brought the attention back to the matter at hand, while concerned that maybe their savior had lost it, after all the torture she had endured had to have addled something in her head.

"Kreacher, you both have to go, you can't keep up these wards and take her back, you'll never survive the trip if you don't leave soon!" The older witch cried.

"Hermione" implored Cygnus, looking so young in his frame, and he was only in his early fifties when he had died. "I know that you have every reason to hate my Bella, but please try to keep an open mind. Please try to remember, that everyone you have known in this time will have not committed the heinous crimes in the past. Yes, I know there is the "Black family madness." And my Bella probably would have had it in spades. It seems that she was one of a few of our daughters that inherited it." He remarked, looking boldly at Walburga and Cedrella's portraits. "There is always a catalyst and "He" was hers."

Still feeling a bit confused and befuddled and younger by the minute, Hermione looked towards the portraits and asked.

'Riddle?" seeing the exasperated look on Walburga's crackled and painted face she finally connected the dots. "Dumbledore!"

The house shook again at the sound of the old bastard's name and yelling could now be heard.

"Miss Granger! You need to come out of that house now! You are not permitted to stay in this house. This house belongs to Harry Potter! If you come out now, I will take you to him!" Yelled Albus Dumbledore through his Sonorous charm.

"What, to show you his grave before he buries you next to the boy? Did he even bother burying the boy?" Snarked Walburga.

Feeling the weight of the world once again, this time on her much smaller frame, with such a sad look on her too young face, a few tears escaped her too old eyes. She looked up at the portraits and asked once again. "Please, just let me go. Won't you please let me die? Let me join those that I love so much on the other side."

Maybe a bit of the enormity of what they were tasking the young witch with caught up with the paint, with the mild sentience of the once proud and colorful family forever captured in the past of which they perished. They looked on to her with just a bit of pity reflected in their painted eyes before Phineas Nigellas spoke again.

"Hermione, you have the chance to change everything. You were meant to save us all. Not just the Black family and it's cadet branches. You can save so many more people that, that bastard used as cannon fodder. Not everything is black and white, you know that there are shades of gray. History is written by the winners, by the law makers, by the people in power. It is their view and what they want people to know, to remember, to regurgitate to the next generation. They will never admit to being the catalyst to the evil that is born of neglect, of adversity, of conflict if it does not fit into their agenda. When you feel the most alone, remember that if this goes the way that we believe that it should, that it will, you will never be alone again." Please have faith, keep hope, and retain the power of this knowledge. Not only to save yourself, but to save us all."