Author's Note:

I've got a review last chapter from someone thinking this story was stolen. It is, in fact, not stolen. I had uploaded the first chapter a few months prior but deleted it again.

As always, it would make me very happy to see any reviews. Tell me what you think! I am also still searching for a beta, so leave me a pm if you are interested.

Updates should come much more frequent now.

Emma Granger hurried to the front door, quickly casting aside her oven gloves and silently congratulating herself on the masterpiece of a cake waiting to be consumed by Dan and Hermione. Those two were already sitting in the living room, anxiously waiting for this rare occasion in the Granger household. Cake was normally reserved for birthday's only, but for some reason Emma felt like today might use some chocolate filled goodness.

Opening the door, her brows rose in surprise at not seeing the delivery of the new curtain she had ordered, but a young man—maybe in his early twenty's—showing her a slight smile. Quickly her gaze fell on his mesmerising green eyes, then to his quite unruly black hair. He was neatly dressed, but the lack of a full suit made it quite unlikely that he was here to sell her something.

"Hello Mrs. Granger. I'm sorry to bother you, but there are some issues concerning your daughter that I would like to talk with you about."

Emma was slightly taken aback at that statement and her eyes narrowed. Why was there always something happening around Hermione? The incident at school two weeks ago had been bad enough. Even though Hermione never initiated trouble, it sure seemed to find her. But before she could lose herself in those thoughts again, she quickly flashed the young man a small smile.

"Issues? Are you an employee at her school? Did those awful kids do something again?"

"Maybe we can discuss that inside? It's a rather delicate matter."

Emma nodded slightly and motioned the man to come inside. "Of course, Mr…"

"Potter, Harry Potter."

Harry followed Emma to the table where the rest of the Granger household were currently sitting. He kept his breathing calm and cantered, his Occlumency shields firmly in place. But all that nearly flew out of the windows the moment he laid his sight on the young lady sitting there, looking at him with these eyes far older than they should be at age ten. When he saw Hermione—alive and well—he nearly lost his composure, overcome by the urge to grab her and travel to the freaking Bahama's never to be seen again.

Somehow, he managed to reign himself in. It wouldn't help his case at all if he freaked out now, and he definitely wanted to avoid something like memory charms. Direct manipulation using magic always left a bitter taste inside his mouth.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Granger. Good afternoon, Hermione. My name is Harry Potter. As I know that everything, I have to say today will be a huge load to swallow, I will start this conversation with a demonstration of the first and one of the most pleasant proposition I am here to make you aware of. Magic—real magic and not just cheap parlour tricks—exists."

Dan had been ready to politely order the man out of his house after hearing the last few words of his little introduction, but when the tableware he had inherited from his mother—and that Emma sometimes liked to use for cake-occasions—began moving and performing what looked like a dance, he paused. When the same tableware then started sprouting little arms, legs, and mouths and singing "A kind of Magic", he was happy that he was already sitting. He looked at Emma, who didn't look like she was faring much better.

Taking a seat on the opposite side of the table, Harry observed the Granger's reaction. The sound of quiet girlish laughter had him turn from Dan's shocked face to the source of said amusement. Hermione was giggling with her bright brown eyes sparkling. The Grangers had turned their gaze from the tableware to their daughter but what left the girls mouth after that giggle left both of them even more shocked than before.

"Mom! Dad! I'm a witch! Right, Mr. Potter?"

Harry flashed the girl a big smile. "You undoubtedly are, Hermione."

"You can't be serious?" Dan exclaimed, staring at Harry with all the might of a concerned father.

"I assure you, Mr. Granger, I am completely serious," Harry replied, his voice calm and collected. A small twitch of his hand let a wave of smoothing energy enter the now very tense room. "I know this is a lot to stomach. I assure you, I am speaking the truth and my only goal in coming here today is to help you deal with the realisation that your daughter has magic capabilities and the consequences those abilities present you with."

Dan felt himself at a loss of words, so he looked over at Emma, who nonchalantly set down on the last free chair, before addressing Harry far more calmly than he expected. "Maybe you could make the tableware turn back to normal, so we can eat that cake while you tell us why you are here exactly now, what has brought you onto the fact that Hermione has these capabilities, and what this means for her future?"

A short wave of Harry's hand made exactly that happen. He took a moment to gather his thoughts while Emma gave everyone a piece of cake. Harry observed the faces of the Granger family carefully. All of them looked intrigued and still a little shocked. Hermione had excitement sparkling in her eyes, but also a bit of wariness mixed into that. She had always been quite good at reading people and situations and Harry guessed that she suspected that all this wasn't just a positive development.

"This situation sadly is far more complicated than I wish it would be," he started, picking his words very carefully. "The normal procedure is that magical children born to non-magical parents are automatically recorded at their eleventh birthday by an ancient charmed book, currently residing in Britain's school for magical children. As soon as that happens, a representative of that school is sent to the parents to inform them of their child's upcoming attendance at that school."

"Inform? That sounds like there is no choice involved in that decision. Also, Hermione has not yet turned eleven." Dan's eyebrows furrowed, and a scowl was plastered were only minutes ago a small smile had been. He did not like were this was going.

"And you would be correct in the assumption you are making. There is no choice involved. Either the parents of said child comply, or they forget they ever had a child in the first place. I am currently not able to tell you how I found out that Hermione is such a child. I am also not a representative of said school. In fact, me telling you all this is a crime punished with lifelong imprisonment in our society. "

Harry deliberately made a pause after that piece of information. He had to treat carefully here. While he intended on being as honest with the Grangers as he possibly could, he knew that if he revealed too much too soon, they would throw him out in a panic—and that would be neither good for him or them. When it did not seem like the Grangers were about to interrupt him, he continued talking.

"Magical society is quite a bit behind any non-magical country. We have hidden ourselves from your world after the witch hunts were too much to handle. I'm afraid the middle ages are still a lot more alive inside the minds of witches and wizards than they should be. Oppression is one of the most prominent features of our society, especially concerning non-magical people and their magical offspring. As soon as those representatives I spoke of would have arrived at your house, any rights concerning your daughter would cease to exist—and you would not even know it."

"Why are you telling us this? Are you suggesting we should pack our belongings and leave the country because crazy wizards will kidnap our daughter if we won't?" Dan's voice had risen above the normal conversation volume, but Harry could see that he was still keeping himself together quite well. Harry's respect for Dan shot up a few notches at that. Others would have kicked him out already, dancing tea pods or not.

"No, that is not what I am suggesting. You could surely try, but every country has some means of detecting young witches and wizard, and the situation isn't looking much better in any of them. A few decades ago, Britain was actually hailed as quite 'progressive'." A sigh escaped his lips, and Harry gave the Grangers a few seconds to stomach that by sipping on his tea. Then, he continued.

"I am here to represent a small group of wizards and witches, dedicated to upheave the oppressive structure build up by the cowardly people that would steal your daughter right under your nose. I am going to present you with a decision. The first option is a simple one. I am going to leave and erase your memory of this conversation. You will then be contacted next year from the representative I mentioned. The consequences of this are the ones I outlined—you will lose all power concerning the life of your daughter. The second option is that you essentially lay your trust and faith into us. We would start training her on her magic abilities as well as necessary knowledge to deal with the world she is about to enter. We will make sure to shield her from any harm as far as we can. We will also explain the inner workings of your daughter's new world to you, so you will get a better picture of what is happening."

"Are you threatening us, Mr. Potter?" Dan asked, his face twisted into anger.

"Not at all. I am presenting you with a solution to something you cannot even fathom the consequences of. If your daughter enters that school without any foreknowledge of how the system works, and without the ability to defend herself, she will be a target. A target without the ability to defend herself because she is seen as a second-class citizen. In the best-case scenario, the only thing crushed will be her spirit. Or, if she somehow offends the wrong type of people, she will not leave that school alive. That is how serious this is."

Silence followed. It stretched for seconds, maybe even minutes, Harry didn't know. He hadn't planned on revealing this much, but the memories, the grief, the sorrow—it had overwhelmed him. Now, he might as well go all-out.

"Mr. and Mrs. Granger, let me show you something."

One finger placed at his temple, a small silver string excited his head, delicate hand movements manipulated that string into a tiny ball, that started to expand into an orb. A wave of his other hand, directed at Hermione, let the agitated girl fall asleep. This was nothing she should or would ever see as long as he was alive.

The orb grew larger, morphing into different shades and colours, until a scene presented itself to the three adults.

Three boys, chasing a distraught girl. Dan and Emma instantly recognized their daughter, but she looked quite a tad older. Maybe thirteen or fourteen? Dan's boiling anger exploded, as soon as he saw the state she was in. She was heavily sobbing, waving her wand in hectic motions, trying to slow the three larger boys down, but her spells were batted away like flies by the more numerous and obviously older teenagers. "You think you are something special, Granger? You think you are powerful because that old hack said so? We will show you who holds the power here!"

A cry of motherly anguish escaped Emma's lips, as she saw her daughter slip and fall right on her face, her wand breaking on the floor. The grinning faces of the boys looming over her let tears swell into her eyes. Blood swelled from her nose, mixing with the tears into a light-red liquid of fear and pain. "So, Granger, let us see who exactly the more powerful wizard is."

Looking at the couple in front of him, Harry waved the memory away with a quick and effortless motion of his hand. His voice was barely louder than a whisper, but it cut into the Granger's like a sharp blade. "I cannot tell you how I know this, but this is the future that awaits her. We will of course try to stop such things, no matter what you decide on, but there is only so much we can do once she has entered our world."

"Why her?" Emma asked, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Why are you here and not at some other house, with some other magical child?"

"A few reasons," Harry sighed. "One of them is that Hermione holds potential far above the average witch. Others, I cannot say. At least not yet." Harry knew he had won. He had convinced them. Why then, did it feel so much like losing?

-o-o-

Why did cheap Vodka taste like piss even after you had drowned half a bottle? And why could he still feel far too much pain?

Remus Lupin leaned his head against the brick wall of the abandoned building that he currently called his home. He felt more like bashing it in, but somehow decided against it. He deserved this suffering far too much to simply end it that easily. His mind easily drifted back to the other part of his two-package thought torment—from suicide to his four dead best friends.

Peter, always covering in fear but in his last moment standing tall against evil in the face of death. Being completely honest, Remus had never liked Peter that much, which made his guilt at the death of Wormtail much worse.

Sirius, the one who had died the moment he had betrayed them to a dark lord in exchange for a cell inside the soul sucking prison called Azkaban. Nothing more needed to be said here. Remus didn't want to know what hat motivated Sirius. He didn't want to know how long he had been a spy. He didn't want to remember Sirius even existed.

Lily, the incredibly smart witch that saw past his wolf and into his heart, seeing positive qualities that even he could not find himself. A skill that made her one of the most compassionate human beings he had ever met.

And James, the brave and sometimes incredibly stupid man-child, who despite all his faults had always stood by his side. He had changed quite a lot in his years at Hogwarts. At first, he had been an arrogant bully, but somehow he had morphed into a positive ray of light, always brightening up a room when he entered.

Remus let his eyes close for a moment, just to picture those people in detail. They deserved to be remembered, and he would be the one to do so. After he had pictured James, he opened his eyes again—jerking his head back in shock at seeing the image not vanish but get a lot clearer in front of him. His head snapped against the wall, leaving his vision blurry and his senses dulled.

"J-James?" he managed to croak, trying to fumble for his wand. Who would take the time to polyjuice into James Potter just to torment him? A death eater, here to finish him off?

"Not quite Moony," the Fake-James answered, a smirk on his lips. "You searching for something?"

Remus let out a growl at seeing the impersonator twirling his wand in his hands. When he snapped it like a twig, Remus eyes widened.

"Are you insane? The ministry will be here in an instant!"

"Which is why we are leaving, and you—Remus Lupin—are dying."

Remus couldn't even muster up the strength to fight. Maybe he should welcome death. Hadn't Dumbledore always said it was the next great adventure? He hoped that one would be a lot better than this.

Confusion hit him when he realised that not only was he still alive and breathing, but that the imposer had reached deep into his obviously enlarged pockets to pull out…a straw puppet drenched in some sort of black goo? Taking a somewhat closer look Remus could see that the straw was bound into quite deliberate looking patterns forming….runes?

"Is that…?"

"Yes, that is highly illegal dark magic. Now I need a drop of your blood."

The stranger pulled out a knife, looking at Remus with these intense green eyes. Wait, green eyes? Whoever did this Polyjuice, seriously needed to work on his brewing skills. Deciding to just play along, Remus put out his hand. The stranger cut his palm open, a lot deeper than he had expected. Even through the alcohol, Remus could not supress the wince.

"Sorry, a shallow cut won't do."

Blood dropped onto the strawman and the black goo started bubbling. The whole thing turned into black boiling humanoid shape, growing larger and larger, before slowly settling down into features Remus could identify quite easily. It was himself the puppet was turning into—well a dead version of himself.

"A black avatar isn't distinguishable from a real human corpse unless you are a master necromancer. I seriously doubt the people arriving will fill that role. Come on now, we have to hurry."

The James lookalike then pulled a quite dirty looking sock out of his pocket and held it out to him.

"You know, using socks as portkey's is a bit of an inside joke, maybe you will get it in a few years when you meet a friend of mine. But you really should take it before those Aurors arrive here."

Wordlessly, Remus grabbed the sock and felt himself get sucked into the familiar turbulence of portkey travel. As he was already sitting, he didn't need to worry about trying to stay upright in his drunken state, which he felt quite glad about. Still, as soon as he arrived at his current destination, he was promptly grabbed by the stranger and felt himself being pulled into an apparition. He hadn't even been able to see where they had landed before. They seemed to hop through several locations, until finally the guy let go of him.

"Ahh, home sweet home. I am sorry. I didn't yet have time to redecorate. I had hoped you could help me with that."

Remus stopped himself from gaping at the scene he really didn't want to see right now—or ever. They were standing in front of the Potter residence at Godric's Hollow. The statue of James, Lily and Harry was standing in front of them, behind that what was left of the once very welcoming home.

"I did however, had time to reactivate and do a bit of upgrading on the wards. This should see us safe from prying eyes."

"Only a Potter can reactivate those wards," Remus mumbled, while staggering to his feet.

"Yes, that made the whole thing here quite convenient. Shall we?"

Wondering what was inside that bottle of vodka, and if, in actuality, he was still in the warehouse, passing out inside his own vomit again, Remus followed the man through the gate and inside the front door. Remus had never seen the house after that night, and the completely destroyed hallway told him that, at least, James had not left this place without a good fight.

"I have keyed the illusion of the destroyed ruin inside the wards, so when we start building this place up nobody will notice. I'm good at that—illusions mind you, not wards. It was quite the hassle integrating that into the already existing ward scheme, but I wouldn't be able to build up something similar from scratch. Speaking of illusions…"

For a moment, the air around the man shimmered, before revealing a quite different, yet similar figure. He now looked at…a kid. A kid that looked quite a lot like James had looked when he had boarded the Hogwarts Express for the first time. He wasn't sure what astounded him more—that the person in front of him was able to weave illusions that were this convincing (there was a reason polyjuice existed), or that he apparently was a child that looked just like James Potter.

"Harry Potter, at your service. I will now knock you out and get that poison out of your system. We will talk tomorrow Moony."

Remus seriously doubted that. But maybe this dream would continue a bit longer. He wouldn't mind that.