Oh, my word. It has been an age since I updated this story. I am so sorry for the wait, but you know, real life, Covid, work, reading, more work, stuff. Absolutely no ambition to get a darn thing done lately as much as my stories were crying out for attention. My house is crying for attention. My grey hair is crying for attention. I know that you all get the picture. But today the power went out and the light bulb in my head turned on. I had just enough power on my laptop to work on this chapter and Bada Bing, chapter seven was written. BEWARE: There will be swearing in this chapter. In case ya'll did not notice, I'm not a big fan of Dumbledork. I know, crazy right?

Thank you all for sticking with me and this story. I appreciate every review, follow and favorite that I receive. You all are awesome, and I hope that you all continue to remain safe and healthy and hopefully happy as well.

Here we go….

To Serve the Most Noble House of Black

Chapter 7

It only took that split second for Albus to come up behind Mr. Potter and stab him in the back with the Athame that had returned him to life before rasping into his ear, "And your death will make my next one."

The portraits all seemed to be holding their breath, as if that were something that they could do in their one-dimensional state, while watching the girl absorb all that she had been told. Her hands began to shake, their jagged and bruised appearance seeming to vibrate in their intensity. Little sparks seemed to arc through the wild tangle of her hair and flames erupted from the tips of her fingers, singeing the arms of the settee that she clung to so desperately.

The words that the portraits spoke seemed to strike her entire being with truth. She had known for years that Albus "fucking too many names" Dumbledore was not a good man. From their first year at Hogwarts, when he awarded the four of them points for blatantly breaking the rules of the school for Slytherin to not win the house cup that they had s rightfully earned.

When he did not call in Aurors when children began getting petrified, hell when Mrs. Norris was petrified, and threats were made against the muggleborn students at his school.

When he was not willing to offer Sirius sanctuary, or even a fucking trial after finding out that he had not betrayed Harry's parents.

When he allowed the ministry to take over his school and bully and terrorize the students within.

Having professor Snape be the one to "kill" him when the time was right.

And having Harry walk to his death.

The fact that he had at least one Horcrux himself, if not more and that he had created one with the death of Lily Potter, completely blew Hermione's already fragile mind.

The fight against Voldemort seemed so very real, but was it? Was it her war, her friend's war? Her mentor's war or was it a war created by a man that relished the spotlight? The man that had defeated Grindelwald, his former friend, his former lover, but did he?

Was it all part of his plan to rule as a self-made king or messiah, after turning down the Minister of Magic position? Raise his armies from the school children he taught. Give them just enough of an education to protect him and his interests, but not enough to over-throw him. Impart just enough information to keep them complacent, but not enough instruction to make it easy to do their jobs.

Were they all cannon fodder for his whims?

That bastard and his minions, stole her family from her, stole her friends and mentors. That he had been doing this to the children and families of magical Britain for years infuriated her.

That he had made Horcruxes from her loved ones made her want to commit murder with her bare hands. Fuck having a wand, fuck being a witch. This would not be her end. If she had to crawl to wrap her hands around his bony freaking neck, she would do it.

If she had to drag Molly Weasley back from hell along with her spawn, just to send them back again, then she would, again and again and again. She would not concede defeat to that bastard.

The house shook around her as her ire grew and the fire in her blood, drowned out the sound of the portraits yelling at her, telling her to calm down before she brought the house down upon them all. She had more to learn, they needed her to calm down so that they could send her back, so that she could fix this grave injustice that decimated their family, her family. She had another chance to beat him, another chance to win, another chance for a family of her own if she could just calm down.

"Kreacher, you useless elf, calm her down this instant. You are running out of time and there are still things that must be done to prepare her. She can not go as she is. She is going to pull this place down around her and he will win. He will stop at nothing to stop her. He knows that somehow, we can fix this, through her! Kreacher!" screamed Walburga.

Knowing that he needed to save his family, that this witch that he once thought so unworthy, would be the one to save them all, he walked up to her again and ran a long finger down her nose, dodging her hands in the process. The shaking stopped, the flames on her fingertips extinguished and the crackling power subsided from her hair. Her eyes closed and barely a breath escaped her. He clicked his fingers again and the wards strengthened once more.

This mudblood would be his mistress and he would learn to respect her. She would save his house and family from extinction. She would birth the next generation that they had been denied. He only had to save her and take her back to the beginning of the downfall of The Most Noble House of Black.