"You're both going to have so much fun here." Harry smiled as he watched Hermione's large eyes observe the land around them, almost as if she was in a completely different world. He assumed that, in a way, she was. From what she'd sad when they'd arrived to the International Portkey office at the Grecian Ministry of Magic, she hadn't been back in years, her grandmother often opting to come visit the Grangers in London. She'd excitedly ticked off detail after detail about the place and how much it differed from Muggle Rhodes, which he could immediately tell by the lack of people. Muggle Rhodes was a popular tourist area, packed full with many people of several different races, religions, and creeds.

While seeing Hermione's mood seemingly go higher and higher he noticed that his other companion was not in such high spirits, and he knew exactly what led up to such a somber mood, and it took the form of a short, dark haired Slytherin girl who seemed to destroy the happiness of any that was so unfortunate as to cross her path. That person, was Pansy Parkinson. And in her defense, she hadn't actually done anything wrong.

…

There were many sights that Harry Potter never thought he'd see, and his best friend on his knees with his ear pressed against a broom cupboard door was definitely one of them. When his shadow crossed over the gangly redhead, the sound of slightly mufled swearing caught his ear.

"Mate, what are you-" Ron jumped, placing his hand on his chest as he met Harry's gaze, placing a finger to his lips and waving him toward the door. Against his better judgement, he decided to do so, eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline at the sound of not only Neville's shouting, but Pansy Parkinson's shouting. "Bloody hell," he whispered, throwing all morals aside and pressing his ear into the door.

"SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH, YOU KNEW NOTHING ABOUT MY GRANDMOTHER!"

"I KNEW ENOUGH TO GIVE YOU MY CONDOLENCES YOU BLOND BASTARD!"

Never had he heard his usually rather nervous friend sound so furious. Parkinson was really pushing his buttons and for a second, he wondered if Neville would do something drastic. Ron seemed to feel the same way, as his hand hovered over his back pocket, where his wand likely lay, causing a slight smile to appear on the dark haired Gryffindor's face as he thought of their brief stint of formal education under the watchful eye of the rather insane yet brilliant eyes of Barty Crouch Jr.

"I try to be nice to you Gryffindor fuckwits for once and this is the thanks I get?! What do you want me to say, she inspired me?! That she was the bravest person I can think of? Is that what you want?! Well you can shove it up your bloody arse, Longbottom! I barely knew the fucking woman, but I felt sorry for you!"

"I DON'T NEED YOUR FUCKING SYMPATHIES!" You could hear the heavy breaths he was taking, Harry picturing his chest rising and falling as he stared down at the rather petite girl. It was very rare when Neville lost it, and when he did, it was never pretty. "I don't need anyone's sympathies. I am tired. I want to get over it, I want to move past it, and every time I turn around, it's being thrown in my face that I have NO ONE! Do you know how that feels, Parkinson," he spat her name out like it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"I've spent my entire life as the butt of some sick fucking joke that some divine entity seems to be telling and people think I want to be reminded of that shit! I want to finally start living my life without people like you here to constantly remind me how shitty it is!" Heavy footfalls caused the two of them to jump up, afraid they were going to be caught eavesdropping, but after two minutes of nothingness, they tentatively placed their ears back where they'd come from.

"One day. All I asked for was one day to live my life as a normal teenage boy, to not be reminded of my insane parents or my dead grandmother. I wanted to go to an ice cream shop, have a good time with my fucking friends, and fuck off to Muggle London but you couldn't let me have that, could you? Instead, you bring your bloody fucking Death Eater friends and you talk about how sorry you are for my loss." The silence that followed was nearly deafening, the two of them almost sure they'd cast a muffling charm if not for the lack of buzzing in the air.

"They weren't lies." More silence. "I'm not the heartless bitch you dimwits think I am. If I didn't care, I would have never apologized. I would have mocked you on the streets. I don't make light of death and I'm not going to sit here and be treated like I'm some evil being hell bent on making your life miserable because you don't know how to deal with your emotions!" Her voice grew louder and louder until she was nearly screeching, and Harry wondered how the whole store hadn't heard them by now.

"If you don't want my condolences, then fine, don't take them. But only blame me for what I did, not what you think I've done. I've got enough of that shit to deal with as it is, I don't need it from you too." The sound of approaching footsteps startled them out of their situation, only buying them enough time to press their backs to the wall as the door swung open, revealing Neville storming in the opposite direction of where they came, Parkinson exiting soon after, closing the door only to come face to face with the two Gryffindor boys, her expression all too unimpressed.

"Oh, look at the time," Ron blurted out. "We have to go meet Ginny!" Before he could even react, he was grabbed by his elbow and pulled away from her skeptical gaze,hurrying to anywhere but there.

…

"Harry!"

Coughing, he looked up, seeing Hermione and Neville standing in the doorway of their compartment. Looking around, he realized that the train had stopped and they had reached their destination. Running a hand across his face, he rose to his full height, grabbing his suitcase from above his seat. "Sorry, I guess I zoned out a bit." They shared a look, Neville rolling his eyes as he stepped out of the compartment, Hermione hesitating a bit before following.

"I hope he managed to find her way alright. We can't have her getting lost now, can we?" Harry and Neville followed Hermione as she easily navigated through the crowd of people getting off of the train. This was nothing compared to the several stops they'd had to make on the muggle train they'd needed to take in order to find the Rhodes train, but there were still quite a few people, mostly students making their way home from various wizarding and muggle schools.

"You know, I am beginning to believe that she thinks of me as an invalid." The two boys jumped as a voice spoke behind them, causing them to make a sharp turn before they were staring into the face of Jocasta Dimitriou herself. She smiled warmly to them, Harry's first observation being her height. She was tall drink of water if he had never seen one. It was odd, seeing what looked to be a stretched out version of Hermione. Unlike her granddaughter, her auburn locks fell just below her collarbone, wrinkled creases shown near her hazel eyes. She was a bit tanner as well, as opposed to his surrogate sister's pale complexion.

"Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom." He found it no surprise that she immediately stepped up to Neville and hugged him, saying nothing as he embraced her tightly, bending his back to get a good hold on her much more slight frame.

Pulling back, she took a good look at him, her smile falling as she observed him. "I guess I can't call you the precious little boy who Adad dragged through the halls anymore." Running her hands up his arms, she sighed. "No, I cannot. You are a man now." With that, she released him, turning her gaze to Harry.

"You must be the new addition to this family," she said, a small smile coming to her face as she stepped closer to him, placing her hand on his shoulder.

She chose well.

He jumped, stepping away from her as the voice left his head. It was odd, almost as if ne second, he was fine, and the next, she had blasted through his mind and ran out without closing the door behind herself. It was a rather queer feeling but it made her chuckle, offering him a reassuring look before a red mass came in between the two men.

"I should have known you were following us," Hermione said, wrapping her arms around the older woman, being rewarded with an equally expressive hug. When they separated, Hermione turned to Harry, staring at him with an odd expression before clearing her throat and announcing them that it was time for them to leave. Jocasta seemed to agree, walking ahead of the group and leading them to a horse drawn carriage. The three of them climbed in after her, both in awe of how spacious it was inside.

"Did you three enjoy your train ride? I know it can be a bit boring." He didn't know what he had concocted in his unconscious thoughts of what Jocasta Dimitriou would behave or look like, but this wasn't it. He's expected someone who was almost like a Greek Trelawney, but she was British, and very much so even more so than Hermione herself. Her eyes were alert and she seemed to see right through him with those intense hazel eyes that she shared with another member of their carriage. The dress she wore was muggle, and likely very expensive, seeming to flow against her lithe figure like water. Hermione seemed to sense his discomfort, answering the woman's questions for him as they made their way towards a thick row of trees, Jocasta announcing that they had less than ten minutes to arrive to their destination.

"This place is a lot different than I remember," Neville said as he and Harry began making their way to the rooms Jocasta had prepared for them. Hermione had her own wing of the manor, one she insisted that the two of them come visit her in once they got settled in their own rooms. In front of them was a house elf that Hermione had referred to as Gertha. I was dd, actually seeing her interact with house elves, half expecting her to present them with clothes as soon as she laid eyes on them. Gertha greeted Hermione frostily, which served to only make the redhead smile, telling he and Neville that she would take good care of them.

Gertha was short and stout, wearing a uniform that bore the Dimitriou house crest, an entire ensemble that looked as if it cost more than his entire wardrobe. While she wasn't very nice, he could say that she looked very youthful, Neville explaining to him that she was, "A few weeks older than the Old Gods", which made him laugh quite a bit, though it was cut short when she turned and glared at the two of them, her dark eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"This is your room, Mr. Potter," the short elf said, stopping in front of a large, dark wood door with a heavy knob, likely made of solid gold, if he was correct. Nodding to the two of them, he opened the door, nearly dropping his bags as he took a good look at his room.

If he thought that his room in the Granger household was something, this was a dream. There as a sitting room, a bathroom, a kitchenette, and a door that likely led to his bathroom. Floor to ceiling windows took up an entire side of the sitting room, which was filled with many neutral tones, nothing to overpowering besides a giant red wall, likely a salute to Gryffindor house. His favorite thing about the room was its giant fireplace, a plush recliner sitting directly in front of it, though it could swivel to face the window if he wanted it to, in order to look out into the grounds, giving him a spectacular view of Rhodes.

Making his way to his bathroom, he smiled when he saw what looked to be a sunken in tub, adorned with several taps much similar to the prefects bathroom, the taps containing different scented soaps. Next to it was a shower with a waterfall shower head, as well as several interchangeable heads. Toiletries were stocked for him and there were several monogrammed towels that seemed especially made for him. The tiles beneath his feet were warm, likely kept that way by a heating and stasis charm, which was his favorite part about the place.

"Holy shit." If his bathroom and sitting room were amazing, he didn't know what to call his bedroom. A large bed was situated in the middle of the room, the headboard mounted to the wall. There was a large window on the side of his room, a platform in front of it that held a desk and a rather comfortable leather chair. It was also stacked with any stationary items he would likely require, Hedwig sleeping in her cage in the corner of the room. Beside his bed were two solid nightstands, each holding what looked like a lamp, which was odd, as electricity didn't work well in the wizard world. Sighing, he left the rest of the room to imagination, decidedly tired after the long journey, more than ready to get some rest. Lying down fully clothes, he kicked off his shoes and got comfortable, readying himself to drift off.

…

"Well if it isn't my precious Adad." Hermione felt yerself tensing as she entered the room she passed by on her way to find her grandmother. That voice, there was no mistaking it for anything else. It held the coolness of even the most heartless Slytherin, as well as deep in timbre. It was her father's voice, one that once haunted her dreams at night. He had stopped speaking to her for years, called her a failure and a disappointment to the Dimitriou name, that her grandfather was likely rolling in his grave, embarrassed to even call her his blood.

"Father," she said, taking a deep breath as she prepared herself for an insult, a sneer, anything that usually came out of his mouth. But surprisingly, there was nothing. Nothing came. He simply stared at her, giving nothing away as usual.

She could see the pull of her father. As she had remembered him, he was a very handsome man. His black hair was nothing short of immaculate, falling in loose waves to his broad shoulders. His skin was pale, almost as of ot were made of porcelain. Strongly built, shed listened to many women fawn over the, "strong and handsome creature" that was her father. His most striking features were his eyes, stormy and blue, colder than a summer in Siberia. These were the eyes of a madman, a monster, a murderer. But they were also the eyes of her father, a man who she worshiped. He was everything to her and in a split second, he became nothing.

"Your grandmother told me of your visit and I felt it would be rude of me not to welcome my beautiful daughter home. My prinkípissa has returned to us at last. Your mother would be elated, may she rest well." Anyone who didn't know any better would assume that he was just a concerned father, speaking to his daughter for the first time in years, but she knew better. She could read between the lines. He couldn't have cared less that she was back or if she ever came back. But now that she was, he was going to do everything in his power to make sure she suffered.

Calling her prinkípissa, what her mother would call her when she was a small child, her princess. He had never called her that, he even made sure that it was known how much he detested it. It was his way of calling her weak, not worthy of the name that he had so generously given her and allowed her to keep. But she would not play his game.

"Thank you for your welcome, Father. It's not often that I come home, so it's nice to know that you welcome me and my guests with open arms." There it was, the rising of a thick brow, though he corrected it quickly, schooling his features into one of knowing. Jocasta hadn't told him about Harry and Neville, which meant that he assumed that she had come alone.

"Ah yes. The boy," he said, miraculously managing to keep all signs of distaste from his voice. When she was younger, she remembered being friends with Neville, but it was very vague, almost as if she were remembering an old pet of sorts. Certain objects triggered more vivid memories, but she never got a true feel of how she was towards him in her primary years. From what she did remember, her father didn't like him very much. He said that he was wet, lanky, clumsy, and full of mucus. Coughing, she offered him a curt nod, promptly dismissing herself. He was tame, almost too tame if she was completely honest with herself. She would keep an eye on him, though there wasn't much he could truly do. (Famous last words, precious Adad.)

As she was leaving the room, she made sure to close the door tightly, pulling out her want to cast a locking charm on the room when a cleared throat caught her attention. Turning, she came face to face with Neville, who was eyeing her, then the door with curiosity. Sliding her wand into her pocket, she smiled, setting a mental note to come back and lock the door later, as to not look so suspicious.

"I'm so glad you decided to come along to Rhodes with Harry and I, Neville. I honestly believe that everything is going to change after this summer. We're going to have to grow up. I don't know about you, but I want to stay young for as long as I can." After being caught trying to lock her father's portrait in the sitting room, she invited Neville to help her look for her grandmother.

"You know I wouldn't miss spending the summer with you. Mrs. Weasley is great, but I trust Nan's judgement." Smiling, she pushed her hair out of her face, her eyes scanning the corridor. "Plus," he started, peeking his head into a door. "I missed the place." That made her shoulders fall slightly.

"It's rather odd, being back here," she said, opening the doors i the main breakfast area, revealing Jocasta Dimitriou, sipping tea in her wingback chair. Her eyes lifted slowly, watching the two of them with slight curiosity as they sat on either side of her.

"Where is Harry?" Hermione smiled, reaching over to the plate piled high with pastries, grabbing onto a loaf of Earl grey tea cake. Harry was likely enjoying his room, lounging around and staring out the window. Neville gave her grandmother an answer, accepting a cup of tea from the old woman, her eyes seeming to peer into his very soul.

"Giagia," Hermione started pressing her hand to her lip. "I wanted to ask you something in my last letter, but with everything that's been happening, I didn't want to it to be intercepted." Jocasta gave her granddaughter a concerned look, definitely curious about what could be so important that she couldn't even put it in a letter.

"When I was attacked at the Department of Mysteries," she started, Neville's eyes widening as he looked over to her, straightening his posture. After her hospital stay, Hermione had wanted to move past the incident, past the curse that he still took a series of potions to combat the effect of. "A Friend of our was hurt," she continued, taking a moment to chew her food. "His name is Sirius Black."

"The escaped murderer from the papers?" Hermione, he is a wanted fugitive, how could you involve yourself with such-"

"You can drop the act, I know he's innocent." If one had not been watching her, they would have missed the quick smile she sent her granddaughter's way, waving her hand and allowing her to continue. "Sirius wa hit with a very odd curse and no one knows what it was. It was so loud, I didn't even heat the incantation, but people thought he was dead."

"But you knew he wasn't" It wasn't a question, more for a statement,. Having been exposed to the Dimitrious family magic,she knew that they always know when a person was dead. Id Adad said that a person was not dead, they were not dead, there was no denying t. Clearing her throat, she nodded. "You want to see your grandfather's collection." The small nod she got in response was enough Watching as the older woman took a deep breath, Hermione felt that she had lost all hope before she got a whispered, "Okay."

Please don't beat me up. I know I'm late, you don't have to tell me. It's just that honestly, though a good amount of people follow this, I don't really get much feedback and its a little disheartening.