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 do, however, own the situations they find themselves in, the conversations they have, the plot in general, and this particular FanFiction.

~Tenshi

Chapter 8

She was floating. There was darkness all around her, an echoing obscurity in which she floated, not knowing where she ended and where the void started. There were noises resonating all around her, noises to which she could not pinpoint the origin. She couldn't tell if her eyes were open or closed, and in some sane part of her mind she knew it wouldn't have made a difference either way; the darkness was too complete for her to have seen anything in it.

The noises intensified, morphing into ringing voices that sounded faintly familiar. One second, the darkness was absolute, and then-

Hermione's eyes flashed open as she regained consciousness. Instantly the previously blunt and unclear voices were sharp and unexpectedly loud, and she flinched and snapped her eyes back closed as the clamour exploded into her ears. Her arms were heavy and slow to drag up to cover her ears; by the time her hands had reached up the owners of the voices had noticed she was awake and were bustling around her, so that she could no longer cover her ears without looking rude. Her arms fell back into place by her sides, and she opened her eyes again.

She was in the infirmary, she noticed straight away, groaning inwardly. She'd been there the previous day to get her leg fixed, and for some reason the white, pristine and deserted room had conjured up an unpleasant feeling from the pit of her stomach. It wasn't any better the next day; she still felt uncomfortable here. The place was supposed to be a place of rest and peace, yet she felt anything but at peace. It was as though she had been here one too many times before – in her old life perhaps.

The voices were still insistent to her ears, and she squinted one eye partly open.

"Remus?"

"Hermione! Thank Merlin, we were so worried!"

Her eyes closed again and she attempted to sit up, only to fall back onto her pillows as her arms suddenly went weak when she tried to prop herself up. She groaned and then there were hands on her shoulders, one pair pushing her down and the other pulling her up.

"What the hell?" she complained.

Immediately one of the two pairs of hands disappeared, leaving only the one pulling her up. She was propped upright by new pillows against her back, and Hermione eased herself against them with a relieved sigh.

"Stell!" the owner of the hands, Sirius, exclaimed, way too close to her ears, and she flinched away from him.

"Sirius," she complained again, "quit shouting in my ears!"

James exploded in a booming laugh somewhere in front of her, and her lips quirked up despite herself.

"Shut up Prongs!" Sirius snapped on her right, slightly farther than he had been seconds before.

"Sirius," she admonished, amused. He growled softly and huffed, crossing his arms and looking away stubbornly. She laughed.

"How are you?" Remus asked softly on her other side, and she finally opened her eyes. There was an empty chair behind Remus which he had undoubtedly been sitting on before she woke up, and James stood at the foot of the bed, eyes twinkling and alive as he watched her.

"I'm fine, if a little tired, thank you. Remus, what happened back there? The last thing I remember is James bragging about his prank on the girls behind us and then-" She stopped abruptly and looked up at the bespectacled boy. "Did those girls do something? I can't remember anything but for some reason I get the feeling it's about them."

James nodded, the smile vanishing from his face. "Yeah. Bellatrix Black – Sirius' crazy cousin – started saying shit about my parents. I got mad. Sirius broke her nose." He shrugged as if it wasn't any big deal. "Long story short."

Hermione turned to Sirius, wide-eyed. "You broke her nose? Seriously?"

He grinned at her and winked. "That's my name! And before you ask, she deserved it. Prongs already mentioned that she's crazy – she's, like, the queen of crazyland. No joke."

"I'm not sure I can take your word for it, Pads," Hermione said, making a face.

"Well," Remus interjected, "she's not exactly crazy as such."

"Moony, please. Whatever else you wanna call her, she's deranged. Insane. Crackers. Raving mad. Not right in the head. Wako. Gonzo. Nuts. Bonkers. Ditzy. Loony. Bananas. Unhinged. She has a loose screw. Here, I've even got a Latin one for ya: non compos mentis. What?" he said defensively as everyone stared at him. "I don't see what else you could call someone who broke her own wand as a kid just because she didn't like having Leprechaun hair as a core." Sirius tsked. "Racist bitch."

"Wow," Remus whistled after a stunned moment of silence. "Is it just me or you learnt off the entire dictionary for the word 'crazy'?"

"Well, one word didn't seem like enough to rightfully describe her dementedness." Sirius shrugged unapologetically.

Remus rubbed his face tiredly. "I…don't know if I should feel proud or exasperated."

"I think pride is in order for this one, Moony," James piped up, a grin tugging at his lips. "Just saying."

"Okay, fine, Bellatrix Black is crazy," Hermione cut in, then stopped abruptly. She looked up at Remus beside her, her eyes suddenly wide and alert. "Remus, why does that name sound at the same time familiar and foreign?"

Remus and Sirius exchanged a look, and it was the latter who answered her. "Hermione, you – you said her name in the Shrieking Shack yesterday. But you didn't call her Bellatrix Black. You called her Bellatrix Lestrange." He looked up from her eyes worriedly, eyeing the window distractedly. "Bella – my cousin – has been engaged to Rodolphus Lestrange for a month. I'm not even supposed to know, but Dromeda, her younger sister, told me the next time we saw each other."

"Rodolphus Lestrange," James continued as Sirius' gaze lost itself in the view outside, distracted, "is one of the two heirs of the Lestrange's fortune. They're an old pureblood family, nowhere near as old as the Blacks, but still pretty important when it comes down to politics. They have a lot of influence in the Ministry for Magic – that's the ruling body that controls the United Kingdom's magical folk."

"You know," Hermione started thoughtfully, "this whole Ministry business shouldn't mean anything to me, but for some reason it does. Go ahead."

James smiled slightly. "Rodolphus' twin brother, Rabastan, is the other heir, but since he's the younger of the two, he was not an acceptable candidate for Bellatrix's marriage. Anyway… Hermione, their engagement has not yet been made public." He looked at her, and his eyes were worried. "I don't know how you're aware of it, but I do know that there's no way you should be."

Hermione looked away at that. "I don't know, okay?" She looked down, and rubbed a tired hand against her forehead, gaze fixed on the duvet pulled up to her stomach and covering her bent up legs. "I heard you yesterday," she whispered softly. "I mean, during the night. I'm not – I'm not a spy. I don't even know who I could be a spy for." She was fidgeting nervously, picking at her nails, not looking up to see the look on their faces. "I know – I know it's stupid for me to think I can convince you with words. If I really were a spy, then this is exactly what I'd be doing – trying to convince you that I'm not. I know that the only way I can prove myself to you is by my actions. For all I know, you're right, and I am spy – maybe I have a camera inside my body or behind my ocular lenses that watches everything I do and I'm not even aware of it. Merlin, I hope I don't. But if I do, then I should probably just leave, you know? I don't want to hurt any of you. I don't want to put you in any danger."

Then there was a hand on her shoulder, and Hermione looked up. She had thought it would be Remus' eyes she'd meet, Remus' hand on her shoulder – but no, it wasn't Remus. It was James. James, who had been the one to vouch against her the most vehemently that night. James, whom she had though did not trust her in any shape or form, but only accepted her because of her link to his best friend. James Potter, who continued to surprise her, and would probably keep doing so for months after this.

"Hermione," he whispered softly, "you don't have a camera hidden behind your eyes. And I'm not just saying that because I don't know how it would fit there in the first place, but also because if you did, the wards around Professor Dumbledore's door would have detected it immediately, and the fact that you are here with us means that they didn't find anything suspicious. We can't know for sure if you're a spy, but as you just said, you'll just have to prove it with your actions, right?" He paused, eyes flicking up briefly to Sirius' watching face before falling back to Hermione's. "Sirius once told me about a saying they have in the Muggle world – 'Innocent until proven guilty', I think it is. It doesn't normally work like that in the Wizarding World, but I think this is anything but a 'normal' situation." James squeezed her shoulder briefly, offering her a warm, genuine smile, and took a step back. He opened his arms, embracing with that single gesture not only Remus' and Sirius' presence, but the infirmary, the entirety of the castle and of the Wizarding World. "At least until you give us a reason to think that you might be guilty of anything, Stell, you're welcome with us. You're one of us now. You're a Marauder. The fifth Marauder. Hermione Dumbledore."

He winked at her, and just like that, her future was sealed.

X

Diagon Alley was a busy place. Wizards and witches dressed in robes milled about busily, either alone or with children and companions, and in the space of only an hour, Hermione had more than once risked getting lost only to be dragged back by either Sirius or Remus, James having headed instantly towards what appeared to be a display of brooms.

"What is James doing?" Hermione asked Remus as they passed James out for the third time and she noted that he was still in the shop he had been an hour ago. "Is he planning on becoming a housewife?"

Remus looked down at her, looking puzzled. "What?"

"There," she said, nodding toward the shop with the brooms in display. "What's with him going into a broom shop?"

"Broom…?" Remus' eyes widened, and he suddenly burst out laughing. "Oh dear Merlin! Hermione, those aren't just brooms, they're Quidditch brooms! Flying brooms!"

Hermione gaped at him. "Quid…? Flying…? What?"

"What are you two laughing about?" Sirius asked from ahead of them as they weaved through dense crowds of swirling robes and pointy hats.

"I'm not laughing," Hermione deadpanned, pouting. "Remus is making fun of me is all."

"I'm not – oh Merlin, Sirius, she doesn't know what brooms are!"

"I know what a broom is, Remus!" Hermione protested, indignant.

"Not a flying broom you don't!" the blonde boy laughed heartily as Sirius stalked back to them.

"Brooms don't fly," she objected logically.

"Shit Moony," Sirius breathed and froze on the spot, looking flustered and excited at the same time. "You're right!" He laughed then, too, and gave Hermione a bright, warm smile. "I should have guessed you wouldn't know anything about Quidditch." He turned, throwing his hands up and pulling at his hair. "Oh, this is going to be awesome!" He whirled around and grabbed her arm. "Stell, this is going to awesome. As surely as my name is Sirius Black, you are going to love this. Remus, we've got all her books, right?"

"Well, we're just missing her pet and her wand, but-"

"Right, perfect! Hermione, come with me!"

"No – Sirius!" Remus shouted, interrupting him in his stride. "We've got to get her wand first. The funds allocated by Professor Dumbledore have to go towards her necessary furnitures. If we go in that shop, I have no doubt that we're going to end up buying a broom. We've got to buy a wand before that, otherwise there's a possibility we won't have enough money to get the wand and the pet. It's a good thing the two shops are right beside each other."

"Hum, Sirius, no offence, but I think I'd like to get my wand first…"

Sirius turned back, deflated. "Ugh. Yeah. Makes sense I guess." He looked at Remus. "Go on then, go on with James and I'll go with 'Mione here for her wand and pet. We'll join ya when we're done. Shut it Moony," he interrupted when Remus opened his mouth to object. "I know you've been dying to go ever since we got here. My turn to babysit the kid."

Remus' face fell, and Hermione could have laughed at the desperately conflicted look on his face as his eyes flicked from Sirius to her to the broom shop and back. "Go on, you silly," she teased him, pushing at his arm and steering him in the shop's direction.

"But, uh, are you-"

"Yes!" she exclaimed dramatically, laughing. "I'm sure! I'll look past the fact that Sirius just called me a kid, but now you just go! We'll join up later."

A dubious and muffled 'Uh' was all she got before Remus ran off. She laughed again, and Sirius reached out to ruffle her hair playfully. "Come on then kiddo, let's get you that wand."

"Don't touch," she protested weakly, batting his hand away.

He laughed and said, turning away to lead her in the right direction, "Sometimes you remind me of myself, Hermione Dumbledore!"

X

The first wand she tried left a deep burnt imprint into her hand. Ouch. The second one wouldn't even let itself be touched; it just rolled around on Ollivander's desk trying to get out of her reach. She had little more success with the third one, and the poor wand maker ended up with an orange wig and a clown's costume when she waved it in her hand. The next three were no better, and even Ollivander seemed to be getting a bit flustered about the whole thing.

"Well, it seems our wands are rather picky today, are they not, Mister Black?" the old man called eventually from the back of his shop as he rummaged through his shelves. "I can still recall…only six years ago…your wand…oak, dragon heartstring, eleven and a half inches…yours was a rather simple task, Mister Black…but this young lady here…" There was a silence, rather unexpected as Sirius and Hermione looked at each other in amusement at his antics. The two of them craned their necks over his desk to see what he was doing, but he didn't appear to be in the first shelves, and they could not see him. His head popped up from the floor, and they realized with a start that what they had mistaken for a dark mat on the floor was in fact a trap hole. For a moment, the top of his head was all they could see. He just stood there with everything below his eyes hidden inside the floor, and when he finally moved, clambering up a precarious ladder, his gaze remained fixed on the small, elongated box in his hand as though he expected it to jump and bite him on the nose.

This is it, Hermione thought, her eyes strained on that box. It has to be it. Her stomach churned even as she thought the words. Yes, this was it. This was her wand. Why else would her body have such a reaction to it? Why else would she feel sick to her guts and ecstatic at the same time just looking at that box?

Ollivander set the box carefully on his desk. He stepped back, a near feral look in his eyes as he looked at it. "This wand," he said, in an uncharacteristically gentle voice, "belonged to someone else before being returned here. It appeared that the bearer of the wand was a young underage girl who died unexpectedly before she could make proper use of the wand. Her family returned it to me, in perfect condition. It had never been used." His eyes come up to hers, and he was breathless. "I have never before offered it another chance to choose a master. But I think…I feel that… You remind me of that girl. Perhaps her wand will be as suited to you as it would have been suited to her, had she had a chance to use it. Go on then. Pick it up."

Hermione reached out, her hand shaky. Below her palm, the wand radiated heat, like the flare of a miniature-sized sun, and just as powerful. She hesitated, afraid that perhaps, when she touched it, it would explode on contact and deceive all Ollivander's hopes. Her initial sureness that this was her wand had gone, replaced with uncertainty and a certain blend of fear that tasted acrid on her tongue. The wand choses its master, the old man had said. How dare she assume that this was her wand? She had no rights over it. If anything, she was the wand's – not the other way around.

Oh shut up Hermione, and just take the bloody thing! Quit extrapolating about things that don't even necessitate thought – just do it and get it over with already!

And she did.

As soon as her skin touched the wood, she knew that she had been chosen. She didn't even need to make the same movement that she had done with the others; the warmth and comfort that suddenly spread right through her body, originating from the wand, were quite enough of an indication.

When she opened her eyes, not even having realized that she'd closed them in the first place, she grinned at Ollivander, and was startled by the dark and calculating look in his eyes.

"What did you say your name was, my young lady?" he said, his voice soft but with an edge to it as sharp as a blade.

"Hermione Dumbledore, Mister Ollivander."

He was silent for a few seconds, and then- "I see." He smiled, and all the warmth that had left his face when he had taken the wand returned anew, wiping away the harrowing memory of his cold eyes studying her face. Hermione smiled back, a reflexive but genuine reaction to the good humour once again permeating his pose and kind face. "Yew and Runespoor fang, 10" ¾'. Well! Shall we get down to business then? That'll be seven galleons, Miss Dumbledore!"

X

Their next stop, the magical pet shop, went considerably easier than the hunt for her wand had.

On entering the shop, it was a short-eared owl that caught her eye, an explosion of ruby fire feathers, pierced by black, yellow-rimmed eyes that seemed to be looking straight at her – she was hooked. Sirius bought it for her immediately, and, true to her first impression, Hermione named the owl, a male, Ruby, and exited the shop with the cage resolutely under her arm.

Ten minutes later, they were in front of the broom shop, and it turned out that Sirius had been right; it really was awesome. Inside the shop, James, Sirius and Remus all began at once to explain the rules of Quidditch to her, right up until the moment when she'd put up both hands as though she were stopping traffic and asked Sirius to explain – alone.

In under five minutes, she was caught. She was absolutely in love with the idea of the game, and James' over-enthusiastic affirmations that it was the 'best game in the world' did nothing against that. Hermione had never seen the bespectacled boy so animated about anything, and it spiked her interest about the game more so than anything else. The boys took it upon themselves to buy her the latest broom as they explained to her about the house teams – all three of them slightly surprised that she already knew the concept of the houses. After Dumbledore had adopted her, he had explained to her further about the school, and filled her in with the details of Hogwarts' houses that the mysterious black-haired boy had not told her about. Hermione only told the boys that Dumbledore had explained everything; the same way that the wizened Professor had told her that it was not his job to tell her something that the boy had not told her about himself, she felt as though she had no right to tell the Marauders that he had spoken to her. They hadn't seemed on the best of terms either way, so perhaps it was better for her not to tell them about him.

As it was, even as the three guys bought her her first flying broom, a Nimbus 1700, she was already planning on making it into her house's Quidditch team that year.

X

Once they were back in Hogwarts, the first thing Hermione did – besides throwing her bags onto the floor – was to take out her wand.

She was in the Head common room where she slept with Remus, sitting on her bed with her shopping bags filled with books and school robes splayed out all around her. Ruby's cage had been placed on her night table and its metal door opened, and the owl was currently watching her from its perch on top of the cage. The window behind it was wide opened, but apparently, it preferred to watch its new master adapting to her new life. Hermione had no problem with that.

With the wand held up in front of her face, Hermione remembered Ollivander asking her to swish the wand in his shop. She gave her wrist an experimental twist. She'd been expecting fireworks or soap bubbles, but nothing happened. She frowned, and tried it again, this time with more determination, pointing it in the approximate direction of the door. There was a shout from downstairs, and the sound of something metallic falling, and Hermione jumped to her feet as the fiery-red owl watched her, impassive. She ran to the door, wondering what had happened, and came face to face with Sirius, what looked like a cracked egg splattered all over the top of his head and coating his hair. Hermione stifled a giggle at the look on his face, realizing that the black-haired boy really didn't seem like he wanted to laugh.

"What happened?" she managed to ask, her voice slightly muffled behind her hand as she valiantly hid her mouth.

Sirius glared at her. "What happened," he enunciated slowly, "is an egg came flying down the stairs and cracked right on top of my head." His eyes flicked down then, noticing the wand in her hand, and comprehension dawned in his eyes. "You were practicing with your wand, weren't you?"

Hermione nodded helplessly, finding it harder and harder not to laugh when the serious-looking boy had egg yolk sliming a shimmering path down either side of his face.

"Well," Sirius said, leaving her no time to react as he reached out and stole the wand from her loose and unsuspecting fingers, "you're not allowed to use anymore – at least not under responsible supervision."

"Hey!" Hermione exclaimed indignantly, lunging after him as he turned away and started down the stairs with her wand in his hands. "Gimme that! And who the hell is 'responsible supervision', anyway? You? Gimme it back!"

"I was thinking more along the lines of Remus," Sirius called back over his shoulder, not even slowing down as she scrambled to keep up with him.

"Sirius – ugh! You stubborn mule!" she shouted after him, stopping dead where she was as he walked ahead down the stairs. "You've got egg dripping down your face, you idiot! You can't expect me to take you seriously!"

"Actually, I was." Sirius turned to look at her expectantly, pausing on a step. "Well? You coming or what? You can practice downstairs with us, you know. No point in locking yourself up upstairs on your own. And at least that way if you decide to set the castle on fire, we'll know who to blame." He turned back and resumed his steps. "Come on then."

"Ugh, fine. Whatever. As long as I get my wand back, I guess." Hermione stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans, a pair she had borrowed from Sirius since neither of the other two lads seemed to have anything other than good-boy-cut silk pants.

"That's right," Sirius answered. "Now quit complaining and come join us. We've got something to show you."

"I thought you said I was going to practice my wand downstairs."

"I never said that," Sirius corrected. "I said you could, if you wanted that is. But the awesomeness of what I'm about to show you will blow your mind so strongly that you won't even think about practicing your wand work anymore."

Hermione huffed, doubting his affirmation, and James' voice floated up from downstairs, indignant. "What we're about to show her, Pads. Not just you, may I remind you."

"Yeah yeah, whatever. I'm still taking credit when McGonagall finds out."

"No you're certainly not," Remus interjected then as Hermione as Sirius reached the last of the stairs and came into view of the sitting room. "Number one, if McGonagall finds out about this, we're all done for. Number two, she is not going to find out. If she does, I'll automatically assume that it's your fault, Sirius."

"What! But that's-"

"Third," Remus continued, and grinned wickedly as the two of them slid in between them on the couch against the wall, the table in front of them and James sitting on a chair across from them, "if anybody finds that Map, I'm taking all the credit."

Ensued a passionate argument – during which Sirius had forced James to clean his hair –to which Hermione had no input, about whose credit was to be taken for the creation of the Marauders' Map. Eventually, Hermione had enough of not knowing what they were talking so animatedly about, and had them explain to her what all the fuss was about.

It turned out that Sirius had been right, and in minutes, all thoughts of practicing her wand work were gone out of her head and replaced with thoughts of the Marauders' Map. In a brief moment of lucidity, she was, just once, tempted to pretend that she wasn't interested, just to annoy him, but the lure of her curiosity proved too strong, and by the time the sun began to set over the castle, Hermione was just as knowledgeable about the Map as the three boys were – or nearly so.

A/N: A time skip follows in the next Chapter - directly to the sorting ceremony! I don't usually do with those but since I've basically spent eight entire chapters on two days - well, it made sense to skip ahead. Plus nothing overly important happens during the rest of the holidays, so yeah. xD

Please review guyz! :D And tell me of your expectations for Hermione in Chapter 9 - THE SORTING CEREMONY!

And by the way, you can go and vote on the poll on my profile for your favourite of my fanfics if you like! :D

~Tenshi