A/N: 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 3 I own only the situations they find themselves in and the conversations they have.

And thanks to my new Beta Potterfan1097 for Betaing this chapter! This is the first betaed chapter in this story, so enjoy! xD

Enjoy the read, and don't forget to take your Wolfsbane! 3

~Tenshi

Chapter 6

"You...you know about me? And about Remus, too?"

Hermione was slow to react after Dumbledore's statement. How did this man know about her? How could he possibly be aware of something that had only been true for a few hours? Remus, for all she knew, might have told him that he was a werewolf - but there was no way that could have brought Dumbledore to guess on her own condition.

"How?" was her only question.

The elderly man nodded quietly to himself, his eyes cast down at his entwined hands. Hermione was quick to notice his dismissing of her question. Already, she knew that his answer would be cryptic at best. Whether his knowledge surpassed hers so completely that he could not explain them to her, or whether he was simply weary of trying to explain a child something he just barely understood, she did not know. But either way, the outcome was to be the same.

"I'm sure the boy who brought you here told you many things about me. Whether these things be legends or truths, one of the facts he will have told you is that I have ways of knowing things that none other understand. That is one true fact about me that you must continually be aware of, lest you begin to consider me a senile old man."

Dumbledore's blue eyes were twinkling behind his half moon glasses, and as he watched her from over those glasses, Hermione was struck with the startling impression that she was being passed under X-rays. There was no escaping that piercing gaze, those bright eyes that pinned her to her seat and analyzed her every move. What had the boy told her again? '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.' The boy... Who was he?

"Who is he?" she asked suddenly. "The boy who brought me here? Who was he?"

"It is not my place to tell you his name if he did not feel the need to inform you of it," the elder Wizard pointed out with a conspiratorial wink.

Hermione took her head in her hands then, winding her fingers under the braid that her chestnut strands had been pulled into. Tears pricked the edge of her eyes as she fought the injustice of her own ignorance, and of being refused answers to questions that she felt were legitimate. There was a hand on her shoulder then, posed lightly, applying just enough pressure that she knew she was being beckoned to look up at its owner. She did, lifting her head from where it rested on her bent up knees, her feet poised on the edge of her chair.

Above her, the old Wizard was struck with the way her eyes seemed aged. There was a knowledge, a gravity behind them, that had him pausing in the words that threatened to overflow his lips. He could not - would not - dismiss this young witch as he would have another student. This was not another student. This was a girl who was lost, who possessed a strong sense of right and wrong, and seemed incapable of voicing the worries that were hers. This was a girl who needed help - and if there was one thing he could do, it was to help those in need - especially when the person in question so resembled one he had failed in the past. His past was too dark for his karma to forgive him another failure to help someone in need of him.

Albus Dumbledore squatted in front of the sitting girl, fingers grasping hers and blue eyes fixed to amber ones in an attempt to convey that he would not give her up. "There are things that are better left untouched while it is not time, Hermione," he began softly. "Things that would not be believed if told from mouth to ear, and better left for a time when they can be shown for themselves. Trust," he continued as he stood and walked back to behind his desk, "is a complicated notion. One of those few felt by the first Muggle cave men, before murder became essential and before betrayal was even envisaged. It is hard enough to gain one's trust, without risking to lose it when it has only just been earned. Don't you think?"

Hermione surveyed him for a moment, trying hard to dismiss the fact that she had not told him her name - and yet that he had known it anyway. She felt as if he knew something that she didn't - something he wasn't saying. Whether it was because he, for one reason or another, could not tell her, or because he believed that she wasn't ready to hear it, the end result was the same. She knew most of the questions she had wanted to ask would remain unanswered. But for some reason, she did not blame him for it.

"Before you ask," the old Wizard started again, "the reason your leg failed you when you walked into my office, was because it appeared to have a charm on it, a Healing charm that was removed by the Protection Charm placed over my door. Your leg, as it appears, was broken, then healed - twice, by two different Wizards, if the magical signatures I detected are true - and had its Healing Charm removed on entering my office. I cast the charm that now holds your leg together myself. This one will not fade upon existing or entering my Office in the future, but though my magic is stronger than most, it will fade within a few days - two weeks at most. I would advise you to visit Madame Pomfrey, our Medi-witch, before the beginning of the school year. You will be joining us, Hermione. Come the next month, you will sit through the first year sorting ceremony, and then you will be seated in the Great Hall with the Sorting Hat upon your head, and you will join the seventh year comrades of your new House." The old man leaned forward in his seat, ensuring that he had her full attention as he dropped, finally, like a bomb in an eggshell, "Whether you realize it or not, you belong in Hogwarts. You are a Witch, and if your magical signature and your aura are any indication at all, you are an incredibly strong one at that. And the best part is - you haven't realized how strong a potential you have!"

The man's eyes were twinkling again, like he was enjoying some private joke - and it was all on her.

Why was she here? What had Remus said again? 'If there's one person who can help you, it's him'... Then what was she waiting for? But the man had just told her that she would be joining Hogwarts in a month. Shouldn't she be asking about that? But no, her mind apparently had not yet processed what he had told her. She would ask the Marauders about everything he had said later - for now, her focus was on whether or not he could help her. And with an abandon that she would cherish in the future for its rarity, she told him everything. She omitted only two things; her vision, which she was not even sure was real, and what had happened between Sirius and her. Those things where nobody else's business but hers.

When she was done, Dumbledore was silent. Somewhere during her monologue he had left his desk to stand behind the window, his hands clasped behind his back as he listened to her relate her few memories, past and present. He had not spoken a word, had not questioned her on any part of her story. He listened - and that was all he did. Had she not been able to see the calculating look in his eyes, the gravity of his gaze as it rested on her in between two breaths and the flow of her words, she might have thought that he wasn't listening at all. But he was. And Hermione could not relate with words how good that felt.

Finally, he padded slowly back to her. She was silent now, as silent as he had been. She wasn't sure what part of what she had told him could have elicited such a profound silence on his part. She thought he might have seen something more in the few things that had happened to her in just less than a day, but she'd be damned if she knew what that was. Surprising her, the old Wizard waved a hand and a chair appeared beside her, facing her. It was thinner and lighter than the one behind his desk; she supposed that was why he had made this one instead of moving it. He was sitting then, his back rod straight and his hands on his knees. Gently, he took her hands in his and caught her gaze with his, holding it there in a intangible steel embrace of will.

"I understand that you don't wish to recover memories of your past life," he began gently, "but I'm going to have to ask you to let me into your mind. You will not have to see what I witness unless you consciously want to. You will be able to hide what you truly do not wish for me to know. But I have an insatiable curiosity, Hermione, one that is heightened with every new mystery I have the chance to encounter. Would you be so kind as to allow an old man his only weakness?"

Hermione closed her eyes. "I won't have to see what you see?" she whispered anxiously.

"Not if you don't wish to," he confirmed softly, squeezing her hands briefly in a gesture of comfort.

"I don't." And she really didn't.

"Then you won't, Hermione, I promise you."

There was a long moment of silence as she weighed her options. What harm could it do to let him find things out for himself? And he'd said that she could hide what she truly didn't want him to know; for example her vision - the scars that weren't there. She really didn't want him to see that figment of her imagination.

"Okay," she murmured with her eyes shut tight.

"Look at me."

Her eyes flashed open.

His wand was poised at her.

"Don't worry." And then, "Legilimens!"

And he was inside her mind.

And she could feel him shuffling through her head, weaving in and out of memories that were little more than shadows for her. What he'd said was true; she had no idea whatsoever what he was seeing - only that he was inside her head and that she was watching him from afar as if from behind a glass case. There was nothing she could do, nothing she could say. She could not even move as she saw his magical signature invade her past life. She wanted to scream, wanted to pound on that glass case with everything she had; instead she remained where she was, wherever it was that his intrusion inside her head had reclused her to. He had imprisoned her inside her own mind, had pushed her back into her own confines in order to save her from seeing what he was seeing. She wasn't sure whether that was even possible normally. This man, she could sense it now - could sense the magic, the power, rolling off him in waves - was much more powerful then he appeared. She knew she did not have much to compare him to, but he was strong. Nearly infinitely so.

And then, she didn't know how, but she was back inside her own mind, watching through Dumbledore's eyes something that she knew she should not have been witnessing. Words without end flew in front of them; it was like watching an entirely black screen tell the story of another life.

Ariana Dumbledore...

Aberforth Dumbledore...

Kendra Dumbledore...

Percival Dumbledore, life sentence in Azkaban...

Albus Dumbledore...

Godric's Hallow...

Regrettable accident...

Unstable sister...

Elphias Dodge...

Gellert Grindelwald...

He was being pulled from her mind, sucked out by a strength that was not his, a giant hand that had grabbed him and was now pulling with all its might. Albus struggled in its grip, but he was not strong enough.

Time seemed to slow as the two consciousnesses battled, jolting awake the dormant lord of time as the ripples that these two immensely magical beings were causing echoed through the veil of the future. Two strengths, two impossibly strong Wizards, their wills struggling for control over the Witch's mind. This was Hermione's magic. In sudden realization it struck the old Wizard that this really was the Witch pushing him back, in a display of magic that was unbelievable for one so innocent in appearance. And the pain, the eternal, all-consuming pain... It was horrible to think that one so young should be pushed forward by nothing other than pain - but it was true. And it was forcing him out, inexorably, unstoppable, and then-

The two bodies tumbled to the floor, their chairs sent flying from under them. Dumbledore's wand was ripped from his hands with the strength of the deflagration. He, too, was overwhelmed by the power he had just witnessed - and that was something that had not happened in years.

And the girl - she was on her knees, just like him, with her head in her hands and shouting, screaming for him to stop - and the pain was still there, and he could feel it too - and he knew it would be too much for her, that one day she would falter, and one day she would break, utterly break - for nobody could live with such searing pain inside of them - within this torture, you could only survive - living was not an option. Not like this. Not like this.

Dumbledore scrambled forward, all dignity forgotten, with only one thing in mind - the pain, it had to leave, or she would succumb to it. He shouted her name and then she was looking up at him, her eyes wide and - and different - and she was silent, her gaze locked with his and her hands on either side of her head, her face a sudden mask of stone. For a split second, his breath failed him. And then his open palm was against her forehead, and she was screaming again - and the darkness inside her mind was pounding in their heads, in unison, like a heart beating to the rhythm of a death service - and her head was thrown back, screaming with every inch of her being as the pain cradled her heart for one last time-

And then it was gone. The girl fell forward, and he wrapped his trembling arms around her, twisting her so that she was half laying on him, her back against his chest, her legs bent to the side and her arms limp by her sides. She was drained, and if truth be told, so was he. Her darkness, that darkness that had been causing her so much pain, had passed through him on leaving her body. He wasn't sure how long she had been living with that thing inside of her, but it was bound to have left wounds inside her - wounds too deep to heal and too real to simply ignore. He had tried to help her, he really had - but he just knew that this was not the end of this.

It was only the beginning.

"Professor," the girl breathed out, and he looked down at her slumped form.

She was scrambling to her feet and out of his embrace, reaching out for the heavy chair that had been thrown to the ground. She straightened it and sat down shakily, and then they were facing each other once more, both of them sitting down. But this was different to their previous positions; the old Wizard was trembling this time, shaking like a leaf with his head buried in his hands and his elbows rested on his knees as he leaned forward in his seat. Hermione reached out for him, a frown inscribed in her features and worry gnawing at her for the old Wizard, but as she touched his shaking shoulder and he raised his head to look at her, she was shocked to see that he was laughing.

"Sir?"

"Oh, my dear, I'm so sorry!" The Wizard wiped at his tearing eyes between two giggles - giggles - and straightened his back to look at her. "It's just - such power!" He shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips as he searched her eyes. "You have no idea what just happened do you?" When she shook her head, he sighed and closed his eyes. "It's no wonder you're here..."

"What?" Hermione had straightened in her chair, her back ramrod straight as she took in what she had just heard. "What did you say?"

"Hermione-"

"You know why I'm here?" she cut him off. "You know who I am?"

"No, I don't know who you are. I know just as much as you do on your identity."

"But you know why I'm here," she insisted vigorously, standing up suddenly in front of him. "You know."

"No, Hermione," he replied with a sad smile. "All I know is that with great power comes great responsibility. And you have great power, Hermione, more than you suspect - more than I originally thought. It is only natural that you should be sent here, in a time of great need. This world is your great responsibility. And though I hate to see such weight on your shoulders..." Dumbledore sighed and stood, manoeuvring himself around his desk. "The only thing I can do," he continued as he opened a drawer, reached into it, and slid a dagger out of it, "is attempt to make what you have to do here easier for you."

The dagger's hilt was a deep blue, embedded in yellows stones, and its blade an immaculate silver. The Wizard rounded the desk again, only to sit back on the edge of his previous seat with the blue and yellow dagger still in hand. Both their eyes were glued to it, like two lost boats brought back to shore by a brilliant lighthouse.

"This," Dumbledore began reverently, "is the blood blade that Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff used to declare each other family. Ravenclaw's blue and Hufflepuff's yellow, intertwining on a single historical object." He lowered the blade to his knees and raised his gaze to meet hers; she was still standing. "Hermione, I want to make this easier for you. I want to help you. And the only way I can think of to do this is for you to join my family. I want to adopt you."

Her eyes widened, and at that moment Hermione could do nothing but drop back into her seat and stare at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Why?" she whispered. "Why would you want to adopt me? You don't know me. You don't even know who I am," she repeated incredulously, not wanting to believe it.

"But neither do you," he said gently. "And at this point in time, it's possible that I may know more about you than you do."

"But why would you even want to adopt me?" she asked desperately, a hint of pleading in her voice.

"Because you have been charged with a mission, Hermione, a mission that will come to weigh upon your shoulders like a thousand boulders once the time comes and you cannot overlook it." The old wizard leaned forward and grabbed her hand in his, sandwiching her fingers in both his hands in an attempt to convey to him that he was truly sincere. "I want to help you, and by adopting you, I am achieving that goal. I will be able to protect you with both my name and my magic once you become my heir. It is vital, in this world of unrest, that you are protected - at all costs. It is but a small price to pay, for me to give you my name. And," he added, a small, nostalgic smile tugging at his lips, "I will gladly admit that this option is not devoid of interest for me, too. I have no children, Hermione, and I happen to be in need of one." He raised a hand to caress her face gently, and she didn't move, her eyes wide and searching for the truth in his wrinkled and wisened face.

"Sir, I-"

"Not a word, my dear Hermione. It is time for you to take your rightful place in this world. Become my heir. I am asking this of you, for your own protection."

It took her a long time to make up her mind. To look past the fact that she couldn't understand why he would do this for her. To forgive herself for Merlin knew what made her feel so utterly worthless. For minutes that stretched out until they felt like hours, she held her head in her hands and fought against Dumbledore's words, struggling against her own conflicting emotions. She cried until his hand on her trembling shoulder brought her back to reality, and when she looked up and met his eyes, she knew in her heart that Remus had been right. If there was anyone in this world that she could trust to help her, it was him. Albus Dumbledore had nothing in mind but her own well-being. And she trusted him - blindly.

So she locked gazes with him, and nodded. Once. But it was all he needed to understand. He reached out to the dagger he had placed back on his desk, his hand never leaving her shoulder, his eyes never leaving hers. Hermione straightened her back, shrugged his hand off in a symbolic gesture meant to show that she knew what she was doing, and took a deep, purifying breath.

He took her hand.

Dragged the tip of the blade slowly across his upturned wrist, then across hers, their bloods mingling on her skin as he recited old spells in a language that she knew was Latin. She felt his blood as it entered her system, and then became her own blood as the blade coated in her red cells was dragged across his skin and became a part of him. They both took in sharp breaths as their senses came into focus, their two magics linking them together and heightening their perceptions for a one brief moment until the surreal connection faded. A parchment appeared out of thin air, a long, curving feather hovering beside it. A movement of the Wizard's arm, and the feather began scratching away at the paper. A wave of his hand, and both their wrists were healed. The dagger, still in his left hand, was clean, with no trace of the blood that had smeared its tip not seconds before. And then it struck her that this was a blood blade, just as Dumbledore had said. It had absorbed their blood, had fed on it.

Albus Dumbledore. They were family now, and in fact the only blood family that she had here - if they could be called 'blood family' at all. What was she to him? His daughter?

"Hermione," the Wizard called her name, pulling her out of her thoughts. "Thou hast become'st my heir in blood, name and title," he began, and her eyebrows shot up as she gave him a look that clearly said she thought he was crazy, "and thou shalt remain such here and hereafter, till the dawn wherein man's common enemy doth strike the hearth and the mention of humanity shalt be no more. Thy safety shalt be mine concern, and thou shalt take precedence over any of similar blood for mine inheritance. Hermione Dumbledore, take'st thy new name, as from here and onwards thou shalt be mine sole heir."

Hermione sat stunned as she listened to his words, the look she had originally thrown him forgotten as she listened to him. 'Thou shalt take precedence over any of similar blood for mine inheritance'... The possibilities were infinite.

"Old english?"

"Indeed," Dumbledore smiled slightly. "Do not forget that Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw lived over a thousand years ago."

"So, what you just said - they wrote it?" she whispered in bemused wonder. "They did. At the time, both Helga and Rowena's families had rejected them. When they made each other family, they wanted to make sure that, in the case of one of their deaths, they would inherit the deceased's possessions - not the supposed 'families' that had renounced them."

Hermione sat striken for a few seconds. "But your family-"

"Ariana is dead, and Aberforth has spent the last hundred years doing everything he could to forget my ever existing." He gave a gentle smile at her surprised look. "I know you saw what happened to my family, Hermione. If anything, you saw that - the part of your memories that concerned me."

The young Witch looked guilty for a moment, and then pulled herself together. "I saw what I saw, Professor Dumbledore, but it is not my place to comment upon it. Your history and your past are yours only."

The Headmaster cocked his head to the side. "I find it rather ironic," he began, his voice amused, "that you should begin to speak like me once my blood runs in your veins."

Her eyes widened, and impossibly she started laughing. Dumbledore shook his head and stood, a movement of his hand causing the chair he had transfigured to disappear. Her eyes stared at the empty space that had previously been occupied by a chair.

He hadn't transfigured anything. The chair had just appeared out of thin air. How was that even possible?

But then Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk, and she was looking down at the barely-there scar on her upturned wrist - and then the door burst open and Sirius, Remus and James came barging in.

"Right. So, you're now Hermione Dumbledore, correct?" Sirius was asking.

"Correct," Hermione confirmed, watching in amusement as the three boys sat somewhat dumbfounded in the Headmaster's office.

"Albus Dumbledore's adoptive daughter?"

"That's what I said," she smirked, trying hard to contain her mounting laughter.

"Right. Why did he adopt you again?"

"Sirius!" Hermione exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air in despair. "We've gone over this four times already!"

"Ugh!" Sirius took his head in his hands, raking his nails down his cheeks in a comical gesture. "But it's too bloody confusing!" he complained indignantly. "Not two hours you were just a girl with a furry little problem, and now you're the heir of the most powerful wizard in living history!"

"See that Hermione, you've got a 'furry little problem' too now!" Remus joked half-heartedly, more shaken by the news of her adoption that he was showing. Of course he'd expected Professor Dumbledore to help her, but this!

Hermione gave him a slightly confused look. "What?"

"James here calls my lycanthropy my 'furry little problem' when we're in public," the blonde explained, his words punctuated by a nod from an only half-listening James. "That's gonna be your daily cup of tea now."

"It makes it sound like we're both really hairy or something," she pointed out distastefully.

"I know," Sirius agreed enthusiastically. "That's what makes it so funny. The look on people's faces when we start talking about that is actually priceless!"

"I'm sure," Hermione drooled sarcastically, rolling her eyes emphatically.

"Gentlemen," Dumbledore interrupted their gentle bickering. "I would suggest you leave my office. The four of you have a lot to talk about."

James piped up at that. "Like what?"

"Like my daughter's insertion in school, for one thing," the Wizard stated matter of factly.

Hermione winced inwardly at being called his daughter - he was old enough to be her - what - her great great grandfather after all.

"Really?" the three boys exclaimed at once.

"Really," Dumbledore confirmed, highly amused by their obvious delight. "Now off with you! I have steps to take in order for our Hermione's adoption to be recognized by the Ministry for Magic. In less than a month you will all be starting your last - first for you, my dear - and seventh year in this school." He paused and looked at them from over his half-moon glasses, eyes twinkling as he gave them a knowing look. "I'm sure you will successfully find something to occupy your turbulent selves before the school year starts."

It was only a matter of minutes, the time for all four of them to stand, bid the Headmaster goodbye, and for Hermione to thank him for what he had done for her, before they were out the door.

A/N2: To reviewer Jen103 and a few others who asked the same thing: yes, the boy's explanation of the founders' stories was absolutely essential to this story. It was MY version of their story - of what the four of them might have been like. It will come back to Hermione numerous times throughout this fic, will help her face things that she would have been unable to face otherwise, and basically the issue will come back often. Lol, that was me not wanting to sell out the plot and ending up finishing a lame sentence with an even lamer ending! xD

To the guest reviewer of the 8/19: If that's really your opinion on who Remus should be with, you'll be disappointed here. xD

To the guest reviewer Smily of the 8/3: I feel like I'm deceiving such high hopes! xD nope, it's not an OC. But smart guess! :P

To reviewer Potterhead Bell of the 7/22: nope, you're going much too fast. Think about it. Hermione told Sirius - who, remember, was the second person she spoke to as far as she remembers - that she wasn't ready to tell him. Why would she tell Dumbledore when she knows him even less than she knows Sirius and Remus?

I hope you enjoyed the read!

I'm so sorry about the delay for this chapter! About two weeks ago, I was nearly finished this chapter when my phone (where I write all my chapters) suddenly froze while I was writing and lost everything I'd just written. I was so pissed, I didn't touch my phone for over a week, and then it took me another week to put it all back together. But oh well, here it is now, and I really hope you like it! ^_^

What did you think of this chapter! REVIEW GUYZ! Tell me what you think, it really keeps me writing! :D

Something else. I've recently uploaded a Bellamort HC called Razor Sharp to my profile, so if there's any Bellamort fans out there, go read it! I've been told it's one of my best one shots to date, so please, take a look at it! :D Just click on my account and it will show up in my stories! :P

By the way, if you've read this A/N, apart from my review responses, put '13' at the end of your review! Just so I can see who actually reads the Author Notes! ;)

One last thing: credit for cover photo given to deviant arondight-sword on deviantART! :D

~Tenshi