Disclaimer: I am not JKR. If I was, I'd probably be rolling in a shit load of money.

Hermione Granger had always held authority figures in a rather high esteem. When she was introduced to the wizarding world, she had basically hibernated into her bedroom with a pile of books on wizarding culture and life. However, even after recognizing the prejudices people clearly had against muggleborns and people with 'impure' blood, she'd tried to reason it out and defend them. Now, after having Harry Potter as a surrogate brother for more than two years, her views had been roughly shaken and thrown out of the window. She was most definitely not a dumb witch. After being called 'mudblood' by Draco Malfoy the previous year, her efforts at being the best had redoubled. However, it only seemed to turn the pureblood bigots against her more, probably for having the audacity to be better than them. It was now clear where these views sprouted from. But why had Dumbledore, the 'leader of light' not done anything about it? He had a lot of influence and power; surely he could get people like that thrown into Azkaban without considerable effort? He had managed to get her a Time Turner for Merlin's sake! He couldn't possibly want to give people like Lucius Malfoy a 'second chance' could he? Prevention was better than cure after all. Her lips settled into a determined line. She was going to find out what was really going on, and nothing short of the Killing Curse would stop her now. She was Hermione Granger after all.

Ronald Weasley had always been overshadowed by his brothers. Even now, he frequently had bouts of jealousy over Harry's wealth and fame. But over time, he had come to realise how it really must be for Harry, not having a proper childhood, growing up too fast, seeing more than anyone his age should ever have to see. He knew that he would always be a bit insecure, but if nothing else, he was a Weasley, and a Gryffindor, and he would do his best to overcome his weakness and be there for his best mate and his family and Hermione, no matter what. Ron knew that if anything, he was great at strategy. The only person he'd ever lost a game of chess to was his father, and that was before he knew how to play properly. And he knew that he was getting even better thanks to Arithmancy. Three way chess game or not, he would figure out who was playing against who, and he would make sure that his side beat them all.

Percy Weasley had always known that he was a bit different from his family. While he wouldn't trade them for anything, he knew his serious attitude intimidated Ron a bit, and made Ginny resent him slightly for not being closer to her. He also knew that it was the reason the twins pranked him so much, to get him to loosen up a bit and spend time with them instead of studying and focusing so much on his ambitions. He'd seen the fearful looks his younger siblings had exchanged when they thought he wasn't looking, right after he got his Head Boy badge and it had made him feel rather guilty. He had done his best to not let the position cloud his brain and made a point of spending time with all of them during the summer and helping them in their research as best he could. When in Egypt, he had seen Bill and Charlie observing him and his behaviour closely and towards the end of their vacation, he felt closer to his family than he ever had before. He had seen his parents and older brothers exchange proud and knowing looks, and it made him feel warmer and prouder than he had ever felt, even better than when he had become a prefect and when he got 12 OWLs. He knew that he had made the best decision he ever could have made and he wasn't going to sit back and let his younger siblings fight this war on their own. He would unravel this mess of threads the blood purists had turned the Ministry into, and he would turn it into the ideal Ministry Britain needed: fair and equal. He would help make this dream a reality, and he knew that nothing could stop him from getting what he wanted.

Fred and George Weasley knew that people underestimated them a lot. They thought that they were just a couple of annoying pranksters who spent all their time and money on jokes instead of getting good grades. Their mother knew they were intelligent, it was clear to anyone who really looked that they were very smart and could do a lot if they only put their minds to it. They were planning on opening a joke shop after graduating and the only thing holding them back from starting was the depleted state of their finances. And of course, their mother. But unlike what people thought, they knew when to be serious. This was one of those rare times. What barely anyone knew was that they, like Salazar and Serena Slytherin, had a bond, save it was a lot weaker, but it was there all the same. Their parents knew and so did Bill. This was what made it so easy for them to communicate. Now, they were both thinking just one thing. We will do all we can to keep our family smiling through it all. Joke shop or no joke shop, their number one priority was keeping everyone happy.

Ginevra Weasley had always been the baby of her family. Being the youngest of seven siblings and a girl had always made everyone rather protective of her. She resented it. She knew that she was every bit as fierce and strong as them and it pissed her off that they would always treat her as something rather fragile. She had been sneaking their brooms out of the cupboard since she was a little girl and the only people who knew was her father and Charlie, who had caught her turning loops in the air when she was eight. They'd kept it a secret. But after her first year... she found herself longing for those innocent years of bliss. Those days when her only worries were if she got caught flying or what to wear if the Boy-Who-Lived saw her. The thing was... he had seen her. In a nightgown. And she'd put her elbow in the butter dish. The whole lonely year before she left for Hogwarts, she'd been reading all about Harry Potter in Ron's letters, which seemed to be filled with such adventurous escapades with trolls and three- headed dogs that she began wishing more than ever for adventures like that. How she regretted it now! That book... it had nearly destroyed her and if there was anything she knew about Voldemort, it was that he wouldn't make just one of those... those things. When the war was mentioned, she'd seen the haunted look that passed through her father's blue eyes, the desolate, lifeless look in her mother's brown ones every year on her late brothers' birthdays. It was the same look her own eyes held now. When Ron came home that year, she noticed how similar his eyes looked to her father's when she questioned him about the war. How haunted and misted his blue eyes became when he told her about the moving chess game and the Devil's Snare. When she saw Harry's eyes as they stood in front of the floo that day, she'd seen the same thing in his green eyes. The look of someone who'd seen far too much. She'd seen that in the eyes of the founders and she'd seen the look in Luna's after her mother's death. No longer, she vowed to herself, no longer will I stand back and listen to stories of your terror Tom Riddle! You will not fool me or anyone else EVER again. I will find those things, Tom, and I will destroy them like Harry did, with the venom of a Basilisk or my own fury.

Harry Potter knew that he was special. He always had. This was not arrogance or conceit. It just was, like blue and yellow made green. Even before Hagrid appeared at midnight on his eleventh birthday, he had always, just, known that there was something different about him. While in his cupboard late at night, when the Dursleys were asleep, he'd just sit on his dirty little cot and think. Hope. Wish. Feel. At first, the feelings of being separate, disconnected from the Dursleys began from the simple difference in appearance. He looked nothing like Dudley or Aunt Tuney, who he knew were his blood relatives. They had blond hair and watery blue eyes. He had black hair and sparkling green eyes. Then, as he grew up physically, there was that uncanny instinct that he had. The one that told him when to hide and when to run, when to step out and stand up tall. The one that urged him to protect and to attack, to just plain survive. Most would have just chalked it up to having a sixth sense, but he knew it wasn't. He often thought it was stranger than the other weird stuff that happened around him. Even after he got to know of the wizarding world and his status, he knew that he was still different. Oh, he may have denied it all he wanted, but subconsciously, he knew that there was still something there that wasn't normal. But after the death of Quirrel at his own hands, he'd embraced it. The difference, the protections of his mother's fierce love, defiance and death flowing through his veins. Throughout the summer after first year, he'd felt even more detached than ever before, and spent the whole summer analysing, prodding and getting frustrated over not finding out what had changed, snapped inside of him. Then when he was looking at the floo, the green colour brought back a memory long suppressed, one that had stolen away his childhood forever. The feeling was fleeting, but he recognised it as what made him feel so different this summer. He'd felt it before, one fateful night at the age of barely fifteen months. Normal people don't have blood on their hands before they're twelve. That was the day that he had realized why the feeling of being different was so familiar. And now, after facing the psychopath who was the root cause of all this twice, he knew that it was inevitable that he would face him again sooner or later. And when that day comes, He thought viciously, I will make him pay for screwing up my life.

None of them had any idea what an impact their silent vows would have on the wizarding world and its prejudiced views. None of them knew, that in another universe, where they had outright refused the aid of the book, they had been obliviated of their memories of ever finding it and ended up being manipulated and squeezed through throes of lies, cutting short the lives of several loved ones and enslaving others. None of them knew that, as they plotted and planned to take on the world, in a room deep inside the Department of Mysteries, a large section of a wall was wiped clean, an invisible hand carving out the past, present and future yet again, even as a small carving of a group of twenty people, laughing and cheering, appeared in a corner of the chamber in which they sat.

William Weasley wiped the sweat off his forehead as he sat down with a flask of cold lemonade inside the tent that had been his home for almost a year. He loved Egypt. He missed his family, yes, but he would meet them again in a year at the World Cup. Besides he loved his job. No, Bill was not so worried about seeing his family again; it was what he had received before that bothered him.

He looked again at the parchment he held in his hand. The neat, tidy handwriting of his younger brother Percy was clearly visible, in the light blue ink that his siblings only used when it was a very important matter which the whole family had to come together to help with. At the bottom it was signed not only by Percy, but by the others as well. Ron's untidy bright orange scrawl was starkly standing out between Ginny's flowery dark blue script and Percy's formal black print. Their signatures were flanked by the loud red ink that made up the words 'Gred' and 'Forge'. But it was the unfamiliar flowing letters and the small words at the bottom of the letter in dark emerald green and light grey respectively that caught his attention. Harry Potter. Hermione Granger.

Bill knew that Ron was best friends with the Boy-Who-Lived. He also knew that Ginny had a slight crush on him. The twins had confided in him that they were the ones who had first recognised him on the train while helping him with his trunk. Apparently their mother had helped him onto the platform. Percy described him as a polite, intelligent young man, with a disregard for any sort of rule. His mother had called him 'a dear little boy, but far too skinny'. His father said that he was chock full of 'fascinating muggle facts and habits'. But he had never seen the boy himself. He had even overheard the twins and Ron comparing Charlie's exploits as seeker with Harry's. But it was not these, but a conversation that he and Charlie had with their father when the family won the prize money to come to Egypt.

"You know, people say that Harry Potter is a hero," his father had paused, gazing out of the tent opening and frowning slightly as he saw the twins, Ron, Ginny and Percy poring over an old tome. He muttered slightly and shook his head, apparently getting sidetracked. "That day after You-Know-Who disappeared, everyone was celebrating. Nearly everyone anyway, but the point is, everyone was focused on the fact that He was gone and was defeated by a fifteen-month-old baby. I think the fact that a small infant had just been orphaned was completely forgotten, except by those who fought alongside the Potters'".

Bill and Charlie exchanged looks.

"I think he remembers it. The way they died I mean. Ron's first letter to us after he went to Hogwarts said that Harry told him that he could remember a flash of green light. I forgot about it afterwards. But then, when we were showing him how to use the floo, the minute it flashed green..."

He shook his head and locked his blue eyes with Bill's identical ones.

"The look in his eyes, son... it's the look you find in the eyes of many retired aurors and war veterans. Not in the eyes of a twelve-year-old. We'd completely forgotten that the colour of the floo was the same colour of the killing curse".

Bill shook himself out of it. Apparently both Harry and Ron's girl- err- other best friend, the muggleborn; Hermione Granger had been unofficially adopted into the Weasley family. His brows furrowed as they always did when his mind was set on something. It was a look his co-workers both feared and anticipated. He picked up his quill and a sheet of blank parchment and began to write in looping brown letters...

Charles Weasley narrowed his blue eyes at the letter in his hand. It had been a long day, Norberta had been particularly vicious that day, and all he wanted to do was collapse into bed, and then a fairly large snowy owl had swooped down in all her white glory and, if it wasn't for the fact that she was holding an envelope with light blue ink on it, he'd have hexed the damn bird. As it was, he settled for glaring at her and setting some owl treats and water in front of her, before turning his attention towards the letter. Opening it revealed Percy's neat handwriting.

Dear Charlie,

What we are about to tell you is an utter secret. You must not tell ANYONE about this, not even mum and dad.

You remember the book we were poring over, don't you? Well, it's not just any book. It somehow transferred itself in front of Hermione just before summer holidays began. No, it's not full of dark magic, Percy's done a spell.

It has a foretelling sort of thing in it. On the first page. Divination by Trelawney is just a load of dragon dung so we have nothing on how it got there. But, back to the point. It sort of told us about the fit Hogwarts was about to throw. I'm sure you've heard about it by now, the media's gone crazy.

What we're saying is, Charlie, is that there will be a war coming. Soon. And it isn't just between 'Light' and 'Dark'. It's a lot more than that. We need to prepare.

Reply soon,

Percy, Gred, Forge, Ron, Ginny, Harry and Hermione.

P.S Bill knows.

Charlie slowly leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Holy crap".

And then he started writing out a reply in violet ink.

A/N So here's part 2! And to those of you wondering, Charlie didn't know very much about the book. Just that it was something mysterious and magical made of dragon hide. Bill is the curse-breaker after all. Next chapter, the action begins! ^_^ Review!