Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters from it. These were created by our Queen, JK Rowling, and may the magical adventure she embarked us on remain in the heart of humanity forever I own only the situations they find themselves in and the conversations they have.

I also have a new Beta, , who will most likely begin her work next chapter, since I'm way too eager to post this up to have the patience to wait for her to finish Beta-ing this one. X)

Have a nice read, and do read the second A/N at the end of this chapter! and please, READ & REVIEW!

~Tenshi

Chapter 5

It was only after stepping outside the Prefects' bathroom that Hermione realized she didn't have a clue where to go.

Startled when the black haired boy stepped out beside her, she glared at him.

Impassive as she huffed her annoyance, he looked straight ahead when he said, "I get the feeling you're lost."

Hermione glared again, fixing her eyes to the side of his head until he turned it to meet her gaze.

"Yes?"

"Nothing," she said after a pause. She looked away. "Well, maybe you're right. Maybe."

"And, hypothetically, what would happen if you indeed were lost? Not that you are, of course."

Hermione pouted at the mocking smile in his voice. "Then I'd hypothetically have to ask you to bring me. Hypothetically."

"And just where is it you'd want me to bring you?"

"Hypothetically?"

"Of course."

"To the Head Common Room."

There was no answer, and Hermione risked a glance to her side. The boy's head was down, black hair hiding his eyes, fists convulsing against his thighs.

"You've met the Marauders then, I assume."

He looked up then, and met her eyes firmly, his jaw taut and his face set into a hard mask. Hermione was startled by what she saw. The good humour she'd heard in his voice just seconds ago was gone, replaced with hardness and something close to disgust. And she didn't like what she saw of him at that moment. This boy - man, whoever he was - did not like James, Remus and Sirius. And that was SO not okay with her.

Her own eyes hardened as she asked, her voice neutral, "Yes, why? Is there a problem with that?"

Eyes narrowing, he said, "Actually, there is. The so-called 'Marauders'," and he said the word with more than a little sarcasm, "are selfish idiots who take the Slytherin hatred a little too far. They act as if they owned the Castle, which they don't. They are insufferable gits. There is nothing more to say about the likes of them. Now if you really are lost, I will lead you to the Headmaster's Office. Otherwise, I shall leave."

Surprised by his bluntness, Hermione took an involuntary step back. Then it hit her.

"The Headmaster's Office? How did you know I was going there? I said I needed to go back to the Head Common Room."

"Professor Dumbledore has a way of knowing what is going on around his Castle that no one else has. He specifically asked for me to come here," he said, motioning back to Boris the Bewildered's statue and the Prefects' bathroom. "He said there was something I needed to do before leaving. I assumed he meant for me to take a bath and relax. Not that he would ever be concerned about my well-being if it does not serve his interests, of course," the boy added with more than a little bitterness. "But now that I am here, I am guessing he meant for me to lead you to him. And you have just confirmed that that is indeed where you were headed - or at the very least where you would have gone after you had reached the Marauders that you seem so fond of."

Hermione blushed furiously on realizing that she had just given herself away, dismissing his very pointed statement about the three boys that had welcomed her and saved her without even a thought.

"Fine," she huffed resignedly. "Then lead me there if that is what you were to do."

He nodded, and said, "Then we must remedy to your appearance before you meet him. Allow me?"

He produced a wand from his belt, waving it once to demonstrate that he was asking her permission to use it. She nodded, and to her credit managed to barely flinch as he muttered spells and her hair was pulled back from her face into a tight braid that started from the top of her head and skimmed along her neckline, ending it's course on her shoulder blades. Her outfit swiftly changed to slim black jeans and a light, white button-up silken shirt that she suspected was of the same acromantula silk as the boy's own shirt. Hermione couldn't help but yelp when her clothes changed, the magic momentarily revealing her naked body before once more covering it with the new clothes.

The boy smirked briefly at her blush, turning and walking away before she could accuse him of anything.

"Damn," she breathed as he sped swiftly off in front of her. "Wait!" she shouted quietly after him, catching up to him.

"There's no point in trying to be quiet," he called back, not interrupting his steps. "There's no one in this school but Dumbledore, you, me, Potter, Black and Lupin."

"How is that?"

"School shall not begin for another month."

"Good point," she mused, nearly face palming herself as she recalled Remus' words to her in the Shrieking Shack. "Then why are you here?"

"I thought we had a deal? No names, no nothing. We are not friends, and we never will be. You would do well to remember that."

Hermione frowned at that. The kind boy she had had a glimpse of thirty minutes earlier was definitely gone. She had a feeling he had seen something at that moment, something that he wasn't seeing now. She vaguely remembered having a nightmare, though she couldn't remember what it was. What if she had been saying something in her sleep? What had he heard?

"I remember," she said simply, making her voice hard and cold and hiding her sudden fear behind a mask of indifference.

She was taken off guard when he suddenly stopped walking, and she very nearly collided straight into him as he turned to face her. Balancing back on the soles of her feet, she regained her balance after a few seconds, and when she looked up, their eyes met, and Hermione was once again startled by what she saw.

The boy with the dark eyes was studying her intently, gaze flickering back and forth over her own face as he stared at her.

"What?" she asked, feeling fidgety when a minute passed and he still had not said a thing or moved. "Is there something on my face?" she said self consciously.

He answered cryptically, "There could be - should be - but surprisingly enough - no, there is nothing there."

Though she found his words odd, Hermione didn't know what to respond. He looked into her eyes a moment more, and she was expecting him to do something. When he didn't, just kept searching her face instead, she gave him an odd look.

"Then what's wrong?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you belong in Slytherin?" came his sudden answer.

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "Slyther- what?"

"Slytherin," the boy repeated, a frown marring his features. "Do you not know what that is?"

The girl shook her head, and he sighed.

"I would be tempted to ask you who you are, if you do not know even the most basic facts of the place your are in, but I suppose-"

"You suppose that that would be breaking our deal. And you would be right," Hermione finished for him, smirking as his own arguments were thrown right back to his face.

"And that," he pointed out then, "is what I mean when I say that you belong in Slytherin."

"You do realize that I have no idea what that even is?" she asked matter of factly. "I don't know if I'm supposed to feel insulted or flattered - or even both."

"Coming from me, the second option would be true. I'm a Slytherin," he explained simply.

"And that means...?"

"Do you really wish for me to be the one to give you your history lesson?"

She shrugged. "After all, I did not even know there was one involved. So, why not?"

"'Why not?'" The boy gave her an incredulous look, and then resumed his strides, adding, "Because the three boys whom are currently hosting you would jump through the roof if they knew who you were talking to right now. And, most likely," he continued as she hurried after him and they fell into a comfortable pace, "would judge my explanations biased at the very least."

"I don't know you," Hermione said quietly, so low that he had to stop and nearly missed the rest of her words. "I'm not going to judge you for something I don't even understand. The simple fact that three people I know do not appreciate one I have just met, does not necessarily indicate that I should dislike that person as well, despite having no reason to do so besides following a trend. Or should it? I feel no need to follow such trends." She looked at him questioningly, cocking her head to the side as they stood watching each other's face for signs.

"No," he agreed just as quietly, his eyes not leaving hers. "You're right. You shouldn't follow trends. It would not be right."

There was a certain amount of hope in his voice, discrete, yet it was there, hiding behind the tremulos of his words. The boy was looking at her, the same way he had looked at her thirty minutes earlier - with wide eyes of understanding. Again, Hermione thought. He's seeing a part of me that, for some reason, surprises him. And not in a bad way either. It's like - like he wanted that part of me to show. But why? Damn, I don't even know what that part is!

The boy blinked quickly, taking a step back, and instantly his face morphed back into a mask of hard and cold sarcasm, a dark sneer crossing his features.

"Let's walk," he said, and for the umpteenth time he was off. But this time Hermione had expected it, and followed lead without a single wasted second. Just as she was about to speak, he decided to proceed with his history lesson. "Thousands of years ago," he began in the well trained voice of story tellers, "four Wizards and Witches, four friends, joined together in a single spot, with one thought in mind. Those four friends all had different values, different personalities and different preconceived ideas of what the world should be like. They were magical, all four of them, and the most powerful that the Wizarding world had ever seen at the time. From a very young age they had been in each other's company, had learned to know and respect each others for various reasons. They had come to the belief that the Wizarding population of the world needed to be instructed the basics of Magick. And from that thought, was born Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. That is the school you stand in today.

"Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and finally Salazar Slytherin, were the four founders of Hogwarts. Godric was known for his bravery, his courage and his skill with weapons, as well as his inflamed temper and an acute sense of justice. Godric's judgement was often veiled by his thirst for justice, and led him to have serious misgivings and misconceptions considering the world he lived in. Every one of his emotions played an acutely more important role in his decisions that in the other three - and that had it' advantages as well as its advantages. Helga was the loyal one, the one that had brought all four of them together. She was the glue that bound them all to each other throughout their long lives, and even beyond that. She was prepared to believe a thousand mad things before breakfast, and was the one who, along with Slytherin, had the rest of them utterly believing in Ravenclaw's project. Helga Hufflepuff was not the bravest or strongest of them by far, yet none of the other three ever put in doubt that she belonged in their group.

"Rowena Ravenclaw was renowned for her intelligence and wit. She alone had first come up with the idea for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The others backed her up in her idea, but she was the one who drew up the plans for the school and planned out everything that the future students would do during their day. She mapped out every room, every corridor; designed the Moving Staircases and the system through which portraits now guard entrances and await for passwords which she defined. Due to her intelligence, Rowena Ravenclaw was also arrogant, and though her deductions were often correct, they were thought out in a way that became predictable once you knew her enough. In particular situations, Slytherin, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff could have written out her train of thoughts on paper without her uttering a single word. As a result, though she was a skilled dueler, her duels were carried out in a simple, clean, straight line. To an experienced opponent, none of the moves she ever pulled surprised him or took him off guard. Her intelligence and over confidence led her to be too predictable for her own safety.

"Salazar Slytherin was the cunning one, the ruthless one that had gotten them through too many bad patches for any of them to count. He was the one who looked over Rowena's shoulder constantly, pointing out incoherences and helping to fix them, helping her lay out the plans that he had utter faith would one day become the most well known school in all of the Wizarding World. Salazar was, at the time, considered a Dark Wizard by the majority of the people who knew his name and had heard of his achievements. This man was one who did not think over things that he knew would pain him - if he had to kill - to save his life or another's - he killed, no questions asked. He was not a person of emotion - contrary to Godric, whose emotions were constantly displayed for everyone around him to see and controlled his actions, Salazar's emotions were tightly reined beneath the surface. Just like a wolf's, his emotions boiled under his skin, unseen and unnoticed, brewing to maturity, until finally he found a way of exteriorising them. Through a duel more complicated than others, he would lash out like a snake, unexpected and sudden, surprising with every twist and pull of both his wand and sword. At times like this one, his magic would surpass that of the other three put together. He was a well of power when he truly gave himself over to a cause or sought to reach a goal.

"They created four houses, each possessing the values and beliefs of their name sakes. The houses were and still are today Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, after the four founders.

"Salazar had the faith that Godric in particular often lacked. He believed in the things that they could achieve together, and foresaw just how important a center of learning their school would become. Just as Rowena and Helga were inseparable in their womanliness and kindness, Gryffindor and Slytherin were constant rivals, striving to achieve higher and higher still than what the other had, and yet they were in essence the best of friends. They were exact opposites in temperament, and that brought them together like nothing else could have. When they fought, the two men worked their magic in tandem, joining spells and magic and even minds, something that not even Helga and Rowena, with all their complicity and common love, were able to do. They knew exactly, at every moment of the battle, what the other was doing, thinking, what he had done or was about to do. They worked together in such a way that any onlooker would never have doubted that, no matter the enemy they faced, they would win. The two of them in fact really did face down entire armies alone, without getting so much as a single curse anywhere near them. They were unbeatable, invincible - literally."

The black-haired boy stopped talking then, his face hidden by a curtain of dark strands as he lowered his chin into his neck contemplatingly. He seemed to be thoughtful about something, and Hermione stood back from him as they walked, absorbing what she had already been told eagerly. She found the knowledge somewhat comforting, familiar in a way that she could not explain. As much as this place seemed foreign, the story that the boy was recounting was something she found reassuring - like two old friends reunited. She frowned to herself, unsure exactly what that was supposed to mean. Had she known this story before? Had she been here before? But it was not the story or the words themselves that felt familiar - it was really the knowledge. The simple feeling of soaking up everything she heard and converting it into information to use at a later date. It seemed so easy to do, so natural, that she knew she must have revelled in it once. Absent mindedly tracing the scar on her cheek, she resolved that that had indeed been 'once upon a time'. This was not her. Not anymore. The scar on her face proved that, like the metaphorical slashing and cutting of the links she'd had with her old self. Even now, she saw it as a symbol of her new life - of her second chance at life.

For now, even as the learning seemed familiar, there was a kind of horror associated with it. A fear of something - of knowledge itself perhaps. Hermione felt torn between the comforting familiarity of it, and the imbued fear of this simple act of discovering and knowing.

"Stop," she found herself whispering unexpectedly.

The black-haired boy looked up in surprise, stopping dead in his tracks. The girl was looking down, avoiding his eyes, her hands twitching and pulling at each other in a distress that she was likely not even aware of. Caught off guard by her sudden vulnerability, he found himself struggling with his own emotions, fighting the instinctual reaction that pushed him to comfort her. But he shook it off, forcefully reminding himself of the deal he had set up between them.

He shrugged, in a way that he knew would look dismissive and careless. "You asked for an explanation." And he resumed walking.

There was a short silence behind him as the girl stood stunned by his reaction - and also likely by her own -, and then a scuttle of feet on the floor as she hurried after him. He didn't stop to wait for her, and was again left to ponder on her motives when, instead of walking beside him, as he had assumed she would do, she stayed back a little, walking behind him and slightly to the side, seeming to go out of her way to avoid stepping on his feet by inadvertence. Her steps were measured, careful, yet instinctual as she barely watched where she was going apart from eyeing his feet, and there was a carelessness to her words that was starkly in contrast to her careful movements. He had the strangest feeling that the two did not belong together; like her body knew more than her brain did, for some reason that he could not fathom. She spoke like a child, asked questions, reacted on her instinct, and seemed at a loss to stop her own emotional responses to his answers. So far, her response to his statement that they would never be friends had been his only indication that perhaps she was not the Gryffindor he had first identified her as. She was a mystery; yet as much as he loved to solve mysteries, she was one that he would have to refrain himself from uncovering - they had made a Deal that he would not break, no matter how much his curiosity pushed him to find out more about this Witch's past and present.

And so, he refrained himself from asking the questions that burned his tongue, and instead lead her along the corridors of Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, up to the office of a man whose name was one of the most famous of their Era.

X

The staircase leading to the Headmaster's Office represented a Gryffin, with his wings opened wide to embrace the entirety of its width. It stood tall, over six times Hermione's height, and was imposing enough that she hesitated to step into it. The black haired boy had left already, leaving her with the password to Professor Dumbledore's office and one last word of advice: 'Albus Dumbledore is not the kind of person you would meet around the corner of the nearest pub. He may speak like he knows you already, but in truth he is just extremely observant. If you want to keep whatever you want to keep secret, secret, steel your face and your emotions. Do not let him see anything.' And then, as an afterthought, he'd added, 'But I doubt you will have a problem with doing that. I have this...this feeling that you have predispositions for keeping secrets. Good luck to you, and may we never see each other again.'

And, with that, he had turned around and left, before she even had time to thank him. Thank him for staying with her even though she hadn't dared ask it; for giving her clothes that she would never have dreamed of having; for leading her here and telling her things that she likely would never have known otherwise. Godric and Salazar's stories still played in her mind, as she recalled what the mysterious dark-haired boy had told her. 'They were exact opposites in temperament, and that brought them together like nothing else could have.' 'The two men worked their magic in tandem.' 'They knew exactly, at every moment of the battle, what the other was doing, thinking, what he had done or was about to do. They worked together in such a way that any onlooker would never have doubted that, no matter the enemy they faced, they would win. The two of them in fact really did face down entire armies alone, without getting so much as a single curse anywhere near them. They were unbeatable, invincible - literally.'

'They were unbeatable, invincible - literally.' Hermione repeated those last words to herself, over and over, trying to fathom how such a connection was even possible. She was not familiar with the concept of different Wizards' magics working together - working in tandem as the black haired boy had said. Perhaps this was due to the fact that she had lost her memory, but since even the term was not familiar, she figured that either she had never known about it at all, or her subconscious was playing tricks on her, and only allowing certain things to come back to her. She suspected there was a bit of both involved.

Then she remembered the boy's statement about her belonging in Slytherin, and wondered just why he would have thought such a thing. What was there in her that could be compared to the man that had been described to her? He had faith in the future, and that was not something that Hermione could claim of herself. He was combative, powerful and liked to duel with magic, and from the yearning she felt when just thinking of her wand, she suspected that that at least was true for her - though the 'powerful' part of the statement she could not have guessed on herself. As for reining in her emotions... It was true, she guessed. The boy had said, just preceding his claiming that she belonged in Slytherin, that there should have been something on her face - but that there wasn't. Was that what he'd meant? That there were no emotions on her face? That despite his rather sharp statement about her being better off to not forget that they would never be friends, she had not shown the display of emotions that he had expected from her? Sure enough, she had been unwilling to show her vulnerability. But was that truly enough to call her a Slytherin?

Recalling the description of Godric's values, Hermione could easily take a guess at the Marauders' houses. Gryffindor fitted all of them easily, though she may have hesitated on placing Remus in Ravenclaw, had he not broken down so violently in the Shrieking Shack just hours before. And Remus' way of thinking was far too inventive and unexpected for him to be in Rowena's house. After all, wasn't he the one who'd thought of her name - Stellar? And of the clothes he'd first transfigured for her, the white shirt - she had easily noticed - was slightly transparent, though she had decided there was not much point in saying anything about it. From her given description, Rowena Ravenclaw had likely been a person who liked to follow rules - she had written out Hogwarts own rules herself - and was clean and proper at all times, something that Remus obviously was not. The fact that he was part of a group that involved someone like Sirius was proof that he was capable of mischief, and that his intelligence did not at all hinder his ability to have fun and enjoy himself. And though James seemed rather serious and well mannered, there had been something in his eyes during their introduction that had led her to believe that he hid just as much darkness and hatred as Sirius did. Sirius was the kind to carry out pranks, James was the one who thought of pranks, and Remus figured out how to make them work, she decided. She had no idea where Peter stood in their group, and she really couldn't see what role he would fill amongst them.

Sirius... He was unpredictable. There was an inevitable darkness inside him, his eyes old beyond what his features would lead to believe - as if he had seen and had to endure more than the average teenager. But he was a rebel - that much was obvious. His flirting, his obvious confidence in himself and in his good looks, his mischief, his jokes, his slight arrogance, and yet the quiet dignity he exuded, all puzzled her. Some of those traits, from what the dark haired boy had told her, belonged in Slytherin, others in Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. He was a mystery.

James' darkness was far different to Sirius'. He seemed much more mature than Sirius did, and thus from the very first moment she had seen him, from his glasses to his good manners and quiet demeanour. His eyes were constantly more or less dark, whereas Sirius' shone with mirth and good humour most of the time. James looked like someone who had looked in the face of darkness for the first time as a child, had had difficulty adapting to it, and yet had survived - but not without scars to show it. Sirius was the exact opposite - he had been born to the darkness, and had extracted himself from it tooth and nail. He knew the darkness inside him more than James even suspected his own, and he was not afraid to use it - did not hold it on a leash as did James. She could easily see how the two boys fit together, how they had become so close. One completed the other in more way than one - Hermione was confident, as she analysed the respective profiles that she had drawn up in her mind, that their friendship was one that would last through everything that life found to throw their way. And in more ways than one, their friendship reminded her of Godric and Salazar.

Unbeatable, invincible - literally.

It was on that thought that she spoke the password which the boy had given her, 'Zweit Leben', and stepped into the Gryffin that had begun turning on itself and rising. She had just enough time to ask herself what language it had been that she was already facing the metal door that, she suspected, was the entry to the Headmaster's Office. Her knuckles held up, she hesitated before knocking - but just after she did, was called in by a warm, inviting voice.

She pushed the door and stepped over the threshold, stopping short when pain flared into her leg, so strong that she collapsed, clutching it into her stomach and gritting her teeth to stop herself from moaning in pain. Instantly there was someone at her side, a long white and grey beard brushing the floor beside her and a strong grip holding her upper body up. Momentarily surprised at the strength that such an obviously aged body could encompass, Hermione gasped when the pain in her leg receded, replaced by a warm tingling feeling that allowed her to open her eyes. There was a large bird hanging over her bent up leg, his body a fiery red, cheeks laced with yellow and tail feathers ending in an obsidian black that was so dark it seemed blue. It looked to her like the bird was crying, and as she watched, a single tear fell from down his beak and dropped onto the patch of skin that could be seen under her now torn pant leg. Instantly, the bloodied scratches that she could see on her skin receded, leaving place to a smooth surface that looked as good as new.

Hermione gaped at it, and was surprised when the warm voice that had called her in manifested itself just beside her ear.

"How are you feeling, my dear?"

She twisted back in his grip, and stood the moment he let her go, slightly unbalanced as she looked at the fiery bird that had flown off back to its perch when she had stood. The wooden perch was beside a large desk covered in various devices that Hermione could not identify uses for. She turned on her feet, and her eyes met those, blue, of a man that looked easily over a hundred years old. He had a long trailing grey beard down to his stomach, stranded with brown and ginger, a wrinkled face that accentuated his 'wise' looks, and glasses cut in half moons that his twinkling blue eyes shone over as he looked at her. He was a mere three feet away from her, and he extended a hand and placed it on her shoulder in a comforting and paternal gesture.

"How are you feeling?" he repeated gently.

"I'm better sir, thanks to you. I assume you are Professor Dumbledore?"

The old Wizard smiled at her question, and walked back to behind the heavy wooden desk, motioning for Hermione to take the chair on the other side of the piece of furniture.

"I am, child. May I ask you how you have come to know of me?"

She hesitated to speak, for telling this man that she did not even know that James, Sirius and Remus had welcomed her in Hogwarts meant risking him finding out that she was a werewolf - and that was not something she was willing to divulge at this point. Yet Remus had told her that she could trust him. Didn't that mean that Remus himself trusted him? Had he told the man of his condition? And if so, was this one person that Hermione could share her secret with?

"I can see that you are facing a dilemma, but I assure you, there is no need for you to hide anything from me." Dumbledore inclined his head and looked at her from over his half moon glasses, winking at her once before adding, catching her completely off guard, "I am aware that you are a werewolf - just like young Remus Lupin - and I promise you that is not something I am about to judge you for. If anything, I have faith that you and I can enjoy each other's company with no such secrets marring our dialogues."

And that was how Hermione's encounter with the ominous Headmaster of Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry started out. At this point, Hermione was far from even envisaging that, by the time they were finished, the elderly Wizard would have adopted her.

A/N: First off, I'm so, so sorry for the delay! I haven't had much time to myself lately, which is mostly why it took me so long to finish this chapter. I also lost inspiration towards the end of the first scene, with the black haired boy (whose identity, by the way, only two or three of you out of a good fifteen reviews managed to guess correctly) with the black haired boy telling Hermione about the four founders. It took me over a month just to figure out just how much she was to find out. I kept writing things, deleting things, adding more and taking more out. UGH! Nightmare!

Once that was done, I wrote the entire second scene in two hours watch in hand, when my dad, my step mum, my baby sis and I were driving back home from the Alps after a nice, mountainous holiday x) Sunday we came back, and even as I'm writing this I'm still in the car (still on Sunday), hoping to post this up tomorrow or Tuesday at the latest!

Now, any pronostics for what's going to happen next in Dumbledore's office? Has anyone any questions to ask? Thinking of that, if anyone is thinking about asking what happened with Hermione's leg when she stepped into Dumbledore's office, it WILL be explained in the next chapter, as well as how and why Hermione was adopted by Dumbledore. Don't fret! ;)

~Tenshi