Finding a Hero: The Black Family
Unfamiliar Situation

One minute, Hermione stood there, attempting to return her father's memories, and the next—

Hermione's eyes opened and closed, taking in the hand of what looked like her elven-year-old self out, no wand in hand. Her parents were no longer in sight, but the Granger household's well-loved furniture was inexplicably less well-loved. Her eyes blinked, looking at her pale blue pajamas from her youth, while her head spun slightly at the unexpected whatever-it-was magic.

Her ears discerned the clinking of dishes and pans coming from the kitchen as well as the smell of food cooking while the sunlight coming through the windows certainly wasn't the same, indicating a different time of the day as she continued frowning at her sleeve, completely unable to wrap her mind around what just happened, let alone how she should react to the situation.

"What?" Hermione's eyes closed. "What is going on?"

Her eyes opened upon hearing the sudden squealing of delight of her youngest sister who tore down the stairs in her own pajama set, tiny compared to what Hermione remembered, while also noting she'd forgotten how ear-piercing Jules squeals were at the age of five or six, the age Hermione guessed her youngest sister to be in the whatever-it-was magic that was going on. Still, as she attempted to take in the strange magic that unfolded before her, she found herself concerned and confused.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione walked into the kitchen and saw her mother lift Jules into one of the kitchen chairs while her father cooked breakfast. Jules reached out to grab a utensil in each hand as Elizabeth sat at the table, her mouth twisted into a frown as she glared at their younger sister. "Does she have to be such a nuisance in the morning?"

"Hey," Hermione said, reacting instinctively as she always did when Elizabeth came down on Jules for doing nothing wrong, yet all she could manage to get out was, "Be nice."

Her father looked up at her then, grinning ear to ear as locks of black hair curled around his ears; his silver-gray eyes sparkled. "Good morning, Baby Girl? How are you this morning?"

"Fine," Hermione muttered, unsure of whatever else she should say. Her head tilted slightly, confusion setting in, yet she took a chair while wondering how to deal with the situation. "The Ministry of Magic strictly forbids time travel, yet is this time travel? Time travel doesn't regress a person in age. If anything…"

"Earth to Hermione."

Hermione's eyes blinked, her father's voice returning her to reality, or the reality she now found herself in, which might, in turn, be an illusion, one her mind didn't know how to break her out of. "Yes?"

"How many pancakes do you want?" he asked.

"Uh," Hermione's eyes blinked, trying to remember her portion size from when she was eleven. "Three?"

"Alright," he said. "And you princess?"

"I told you!" Elizabeth wined. "Don't call me that!"

"Please don't throw a tantrum, Elizabeth," Hermione's mother said. "You're nine now, so you can ask your papa politely not to call you that."

"Wait," Hermione thought to herself.

"But he never listens," Elizabeth pouted as their dad set pancakes before her. "And please stop with the smiley faces! I'm too old."

"Sorry, sorry," Hermione's dad muttered as Hermione frowned.

"If Elizabeth is only nine, I can't be eleven. Not if it's summer. When am I?"

"Hermione?" Her dad asked. "Baby Girl? Are you alright?"

Hermione's eyes blinked while she looked up at her father, grinning ear to ear. "I'll take a smiley face with the other two pancakes on the side, please."

"Sure can do," her father said while Elizabeth glared at her.

Hermione let out a deep breath. "The last person I want to worry about what is going on is my dad."

The outside world—

Sounds certainly carried through the walls at the Burrow, with parents and siblings going about their lives as if certain things never happened.

"That's not true. They're just as affected by Fred's death as you are," George thought to himself as he lay there in the dark bedroom, trying not to think about what went on outside the world, yet his mind still found the need to process what went on outside of his dark room, such as how Ron earlier complained about girls taking to much time to get dressed, among other things, such as—

"Mum said you didn't eat anything again," Ginny said from the doorway, allowing herself entrance when George hadn't responded.

"I ate a few bites," George muttered, covering his eyes. "Isn't that enough, Gin?"

"You know it isn't," Ginny said.

He uncovered his eyes and turned onto his side, tucking the arm from that side as a pillow as he looked at her sister. "Care to share some good news, such as your lunch with Harry and Hermione going well?"

Ginny smiled at him, her eyes dancing to another part of the room. "Well, lunch with Harry and Hermione went well enough."

"But?"

She took a deep breath, then closed the door behind her. "Can you promise me none of this gets back to Ron?"

George pushed himself up slightly, "Depends. What's bothering you?"

He patted the bed, indicating she should come and sit. Ginny walked over and sat down, taking a deep breath. "So, Ron wasn't being supportive of Hermione at all."

"That's not exactly something new," George said, frowning. "But I guess I should be asking what he did this time?"

"Hermione's returning her parent's memories today, and Ron blew her off," Ginny said. "About going with her, but meeting her family."

"He doesn't want to?" George asked, looking at his youngest sibling in the dim light.

"That's the impression I was left with," Ginny said, frowning. "Hermione said everything was fine, that Harry and I didn't have to go with her, but I really think…"

"She really wanted Ron's support?" George rolled onto his back, sighing and covering his eyes. "Bloody Merlin. Fred was always better at this than me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," George said. "I guess I'll have to have a talk with Ron later?"

"I thought I asked you to promise none of this would get back to Ron?"

"I said it depends," George said, continuing to lay there, covering his eyes. "I don't see his relationship lasting if he keeps putting his foot in his mouth."

"Give Hermione way more credit than that," Ginny said. "She's willing to put up with quite a bit, you know."

"She shouldn't have to, though," George said, uncovering his eyes so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. "I guess she's the one I have to talk to."

"I don't think Ron's going to take well to you are sabotaging his relationship," Ginny said.

"Ron is doing that enough on his own," George muttered, feeling a headache coming on. "But Hermione shouldn't have to put up with certain things, and Ron's attitude towards her family is one of them. I mean, we'd all be upset if Hermione didn't want to have anything to do with us?"

"I think he's just uncomfortable with it because they're Muggles," Ginny noted.

"Ron needs to get over himself," George muttered, mentally wishing Fred was here so they could tag-team the situation. He swallowed.

"Hey," Ginny said. "It's getting stuffy in here. You should open a window and let some fresh air in. Or at least pull the curtains back to allow yourself some light."

"Don't," George said. "I'll do it later when I don't have such a blasted headache."

"You wouldn't have that headache if you ate properly," Ginny noted. "And if you didn't sleep all day."

"I know, I know."

"So if you're not up soon, I'll have no choice but to intervene," Ginny said.

George grunted, only for Ginny to respond by placing a light, familial kiss on his forehead before squeezing his shoulder and leaving. Mentally, he brushed her comment aside, thinking the intervention would be a ways away, when—

"Gin!" George snapped as light from the window streamed in. He started sitting up, saying, "Didn't I tell you…"

He froze a figure silhouetted against the window, staring at him while their red hair glowed at the edges as the sun cascaded past. George's eyes blinked, noting in the back of his head the person in front of him was too small for any of his siblings as his fingers clenched the bedding next to him.

And he stared, eyes blinking as his head continued hurting.

"George?"

George swallowed, his mind registering who the voice belonged to, panic setting in, his mouth opening and closing.

"Are you alright? You look like…"

Instinctively, George bolted from the room to the closest bathroom, slamming the door behind him and emptying his stomach into the toilet.

"Hey, George," the other person said

"Go away," George said, closing his eyes as his body reacted negatively to the sudden shock.

"George, are you okay?"

"I said go away, Fred!" George said, mentally wondering what his family could think of his current mental state of seeing a dead person as he began to sob and shake.

"I'm going to get mum," Fred said, using a tone of concern as he spoke.

George kept his eyes closed, spewing more of the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

A pair of silver-gray eyes looked into a mirror. Small hands reached up to touch pointed ears, fingering them gently as locks of black hair cascaded and framed the delicate features. The tiny fingers touched the tips of the ears as mental confusion set in. A soft, gentle voice spoke. "A nightmare?"

Hands lowered, silver-gray eyes continuing to look at the mirror as elven lips pushed together, the Elfling in the mirror quite unsure of the world around him as he looked at his reflection. A finger reached up, latching onto the locks of hair, taking in how long his black hair was as a shiver ran down his spine.

Light flickered into the dark bathroom, allowing him not to turn on the lights, to stare at his reflection as the confusion continued. His mouth opened, yet—

"Elenian?" a voice called out from downstairs. "Elenian, are you up yet?"

Elenian turned, the sound of the voice bringing some relief, the nightmare of the night before seemingly behind him and gone. "Yes, Ada. I'm up already."

"Then come down and join me for breakfast."

"Yes sir," came the response as Elenian turned towards the door, turning the doorknob as his mouth pressed together. "Perhaps the nightmare won't ever come true," while also thinking, "Let's not worry, Ada, about last night's dream."

Note - The original attempt at this particular series involved trying to tell the story from a singular third person limited POV, that of Hermione. The original attempt didn't involve the twins in the same way, either. As for Elenian, in the original attempt, he was named Ainel, but the plot I wanted to do with him is moved up and fleshed out.