Harry Potter 1. Chapter One: The End, The Beginning

Disclaimer: The Author of this work of FanFiction does not own any of the copyrighted works used in this work of fiction, inspiration and ideas are drawn consciously ( and sometimes unconsciously) from many places. Including but not limited to TV, Books, Comics, World News, Websites, Politics and many others. This author does not represent the interests or opinions of the origional authors of these works.

The primary Authors note for the chapters of this story are located at the end. For those of you (most likely among the majority) who do not read the authors notes either before nor after the bulk of the chapter, this is for you.

Constructive criticism is appreciated and I look forward to it, however if you wish to "Flame" please do so in a manner so as I can attempt to fix the problem

"Character Speaking"

"CHARACTER YELLING"

'Character Thinking'

Character Narration

_Magic/ Spell use_

**Section or Date / Title**

And now, I hope you enjoy this chapter, Of Fakes and Frauds

* * *

**The End**

The rain, it was always the rain. Outside the window of his second story apartment it came down on the streets and rooftops like a wrathful lover. It poured from the sky so heavily that he couldn't even make out the tall back of the rock at the mouth of the port. A part of him hated the rain, but it was a small part; the part that remembered, the part he wouldn't allow himself to forget, the part that kept him grounded. The part that reminded him where and what he came from.

But for the most part he liked and enjoyed it when it rained, loved it even, it was comforting and soothing; the constant drumming rhythm as the water drops fell, it washed away the old and let the new grow forth.

The more he thought about it, the more this rain reminded him of that night those years ago, it had been raining that night as well. Bloody hell, he hated thinking about that time. He wouldn't let that part of himself forget though. He shook his head in reminiscence; looking back, he had truly been pathetic then, his journey snuffed out before it could have even begun.

* * *

**The Beginning, **

**Date Unknown,**

**Location Unknown**

He really should have seen it coming. Honestly by that point it was inevitable he would become the target for Uncle Vernon's latest troubles, though he was surprised it hadn't happened sooner. Harry couldn't see it but he could certainly feel it, a lump the size of a stone that pulsed like a second heart on the back of his head. Harry scratched the back of his head in a fit of frustration, forgetting in the act, of his new bump; up until it sent a jolt of agony through his personal world.

"AAHHHH," Harry jerked his hand back, 'Bloody hell.'

He figured it was a blow the head from the end of Uncle Vernon's paper wrapped rifle was what put him out cold and subsequently landed him in the currently shitty situation he was stuck in.

Harry looked in every which direction again and saw nothing but blue of differing shades and the fluffy white of clouds, again. Hyup, he was definitely in the shit now. The little Hut-on-the-rock had been the last speck of land he had seen before being knocked out. Though that had been just off Landewednack; The southernmost arse end of Britain and close enough that he had barely been able to make out the waves crashing on the rocks of the shore. The Hut must have been at least half a mile out, at least that was what he had guesstimated while he rowed. But now, now all he could see was water, lots and lots of water, in every direction and sky, lots and lots of sky.

"Ahhh", a long winded sigh escaped him, he wondered, he contemplated if you will; what he would die of first, lack of food, thirst for water, or the sun succeeding in its self imposed task to turn his brain to mush? But at least he had some protection from that, crawling back under the pleasantly damp, threadbare boat covering he pondered aybout how his shite situation had come to be as it was, he shifted around a bit, trying to get as comfortable as was possible and just went back to sleep. His head was simply killing him.

* * *

**7th of July,**

**Great Britain,**

**Hogwarts,**

**Headmasters Office.**

From his great winged back leather chair the man who considered himself, and was known as, Albus Dumbledore heard a multitude of clocks announcing Seven AM.

Cuckoo clocks, Grandfather clocks, Big Bens, even the odd sound of a Kazoo clock; numerous clocks whose sounds merged into a nigh deafening cacophony.

With a quickness and grace that belied his true age he moved to the front of his fireplace, scooped a palm full of green powder from a bowl and thrust it into the fire on the seventh stroke of seven. Conscious of his long beard the elderly man held it to his diaphragm before calling out his destination, "Floo's End". The man calmly kept himself focused and concentrated on his destination while he traversed what he believed to be the total of the floo network.

As he sped through the floo system he passed by other fireplaces too numerous to count, glimpsing the briefest of flashes behind grates and coal barriers until a stretch of nothingness that went on for minutes. Suddenly and without warning, but not unexpected, he was evicted face first into a chamber of roughly hewn stone and burning fireplaces.

At first glance that was all the strange cavern appeared to be, that to all appearances contained nothing other than fireplaces with a smooth even floor of yet undisturbed ash and soot.

Despite his rough eviction from the Floo Dumbledore simply brushed off his robes and strode calmly toward to exact center of the chamber, as indicated by a flat circle of stone that protruded seven centimeters above the floor level.

Gazing around dispassionately at the ash coated floor the man slipped a knobby wand from his left hand sleeve and absently swept it in a wide outward arc. Banishing the ash on the floor to expose an array of interlocking rings that, to one who was knowledgeable enough could say with reasonable accuracy, was reminiscent of an alchemic circle, one of a complexity and design only few could have conceived. The man was quiet for a time as he examined the markings on the floor with a keen eye, "Ah Nicolas, always with the puzzles", the man who knew himself as Dumbledore retrieved a watch from his pocket.

To many the watch would look like something of a decorative piece or novelty piece, what with its many spinning hands, but to the man it belonged to it was a most valuable instrument and to him. He saw that it was thirty seconds to seven past seven, he saw his actions and movements in his mind, now he just needed to bring them into existence. Raising his wand like a conductor's baton with his watch in his other hand he began making motions with his wand that lasted seven seconds, before he turned in place to perform a similar motion. Over and over he did this, with each turn a low grinding became a roar as the rings carved in the stone rotated, and turned until they locked in place, each ring part of a greater whole.

This went on for thirty full minutes, exactly until he stopped, in conjunction with the micro second-hand of his watch ticked into place at 7:37. Beads of sweat welled on his forehead, his muscles burned with a slight ache , his wand arm shook briefly before he willed it still.

Simultaneous to him the circles of stone in the floor stopped there rotations in sync, leaving the cavernous room silent once again. As the man had figured from his examination, the circles carved in the stone were like the tumblers of a muggle safe or lock; with each required to be in there correct position for the whole to work.

The odd but consistent combination of Three, One, Four, One, Five ,Nine and Two that Flamel used made contacting him not too difficult, but trying to figure out how to apply it to his puzzles however was always a pain.

Dumbledore checked his watch, he had a bit of time to catch his breath, 'Thank Merlin for the little things'.

At seven seconds past 7:37 the numerous fireplaces that lined the walls of the chamber were extinguished and the cavern was plunged into a deep darkness. It didn't last however, as the small platform the man stood upon began to glow, an orange color reminiscent of molten metal but lacking any such heat. In the low light he noticed the twinkling commits of his robes fading until they were indistinct outlines on the cloth they were enchanted on. Many and most of the things he had on his person were being drained of their magical properties, anything that could be considered a weapon or shield by the platforms enchantments, with exception of foci, was drained of magic; rendering them useless and inert of magic until they were repaired or re-enchanted. The man was aware of what was happening, it always happened when he used this route to contact Nicolas but there was nothing he could do to stop it. Nor was there any reason to, the things drained could always be fixed and put back to as they were, it was of little cost or consequence. The formal craft involved was powerful and in the Magical Britain there were few who would have been able to recognise it for what it was. It truly was a shame though for things knowledge like this to fall out of popularity but some things had to go by the wayside, for The Greater Good. The glow from the platform died away soon enough, its power drained and its purpose completed, with a final crunch the stone dropped flush with the floor and the stone rings began rotating again until they stopped with a light clack.

The silence didn't last though, the rattling of a long chain unsporting echoed in the chamber and a small iron hook holding a band of bright silver descended to a foot above the mans head.

He reached up and grasped the silver loop and lifted it from the hook which reascended to wherever it came from. In his pocket the watch that many would call useless ticked to 7:41, and in a flash, the man who had been standing in the center of the room vanished.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

With a whoosh of air the man known as Dumbledore was deposited into a small chamber. The man stood tall on the small platform he was deposited on, in contrast to the previous chamber he had been in previously this one was quite well-lit, allowing him to see his reflection from the surface of the mirrors that were covering the walls. Dumbledore examined the mirrors while he awaited their creator and the man he was seeking to speak to, they truly were works of art. So much like the personal communication mirrors his more privileged students sometimes used to communicate but on such a vastly different level of capability

.

A Flicker of motion to his side drew his attention, a door had appeared in the mirror, at least that was what is looked like at first. In reality it was just a real-time image of a rough timber and black iron door with a bit of stone work showing around it. Soon enough the other mirrors in the chamber began to come to activate, each showing a single segment of a whole until all the mirrors were active and displaying a 360 view of what appeared to have been a large wine cellar. Judging by the racks upon racks of wine bottles, with wood countertops running at waist height along the ones on the walls. Stone sconces in the cellars wall began to glow to life illuminating the room so it was well-lit, it was not long after that that the door swung open and struck the wall next to it with a resounding clash, old iron hitting old stone with neither magically enhanced material yielding to the other enough to do damage.

"Well, you went through the trouble to talk to me face to face, so what do you want", the new man didn't wait for small talk, he already knew what the man known as Dumbledore was there for.

He examined the new man behind his half-moon spectacles, 'After so many years you never change'. "Master Flamel, I am not here for what you think, after-", Dumbledore tried to explain but he was quickly cut off.

"Stop, right there, I was never your master, you call me that again and I will terminate this exchange and seal that room you're in, you may have his memories but you were never my student. I will forgive it this once since you went through the effort of getting my attention but do it again and I will end this exchange, am I understood", it was a statement, not a question that was easy enough to see in the ancient wizards face.

"Of course, I meant no disrespect, I am unable to differentiate my memories and his as well as I was able to years ago", he said, "I apologize." He cleared his throat, "As I was saying, after your response I realized the folly of using a true stone for a trap such as this, it would be too much of a risk." The man who called himself Dumbledore turned, following the senior man as he fully entered the wine cellar and began to peruse the racks of wine. The sounds of him removing and replacing several of the bottles until he found a satisfactory bottle and re-emerged from the racks. Setting what looked like an absolutely ancient and priceless bottle on a counter in front of him. "I am asking, this time, for a fake, something that can withstand passing scrutiny," the man sighed. "If I could create such a thing I would prefer to do as such instead of asking you, but alas I may have his memories, but I lack the capability."

Flamel twisted the bottles cork, with a pop he opened it for what could have been the first time in over a century since it was bottles. He set it aside to let it breathe and clasped his hands and simply stared in silence at the man in front of him, while he watched the body of the man flickered, shimmered silver, he made a mental note to do some maintenance work on the communication array. Flamel shook his head, "And what of the trap itself, Hogwarts is not what it was in my day, or even a hundred years ago." He ran his hands together with a soft hiss of rough skin. He sighed, "You are sure he is still in the realm of the living, you are sure he still lives despite being rid of a mortal bod?."

The man known as Dumbledore nodded, "Indeed, I believe so, I troubles me that someone in this age would go to such lengths to live but it does match against some research I did in my youth. I am sure he did what I would not." Flamel observed him for several minutes, gauging him, his honesty perhaps.

He reached to his side, he picked up the bottle and pouring a glass without looking away.

"Very well, I will make you a fake, but I warn you now, you had better have adequate protections for the students in place, if I hear a single whisper of a student being harmed due to this folly you will regret it dearly, do you understand Fraud."

Dumbledore cringed at the insult, he hated having it pointed out to him, thrown at him like the rightful accusation it was. That he wasn't what he pretended and tried to be.

"You have been playing your games for a long time but remember I have been playing them as well for much longer, you're near century of verses my half a millenia. Who do you think will come out on top as the victor." Flamel took a sip of his wine, "You're strong, I admit that, and you have that curs'ed wand but I can and will crush you. It may take time but I can and will bring your world down around your ear's, remember this when you lay your protections."

He lifted the glass and swirled the crimson liquid contained. "Now begone", he waved his hand in dismissal, "I have a fake stone to forge, Fawkes will deliver it within the week."

The mirrors blanked out, leaving the man known as Dumbledore to stare at his reflection from too many angles. Dealing with Flamel was always like dealing with a predator for him, since the first time he had met the man Flamel had seen through him immediately, he had almost died on that day. The first to do battle with him on such a level since his lover and him had faced each other on the field of war, and now he would likely not survive such an encounter half a century later. Sure Voldemort hadn't been too difficult to hold off, but that had been over a decade ago, time compounded everything, he just didn't know how well he could hold against the insane man a second time. The light of the chamber receded into darkness and with the ringing clang of a chain the man known as Albus Percival Wulfric Dumbledore vanished.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

Nicolas Flamel sipped the wine, not really paying attention to the delicate flavour, he instead stared at a ball of contained quiksilver that hovered above a small circular platform. Hed had had little interaction with that man since he had almost killed him half a century ago, when the Fraud had first attempted to pass himself off as his apprentice he had gone into such a rage, one that he hadn't experienced such in centuries. After he had almost killed him though they had developed a mutual understanding though and were able to work together at times. Only small things though, usually during a crisis large enough that they would set aside their past history for, as the Fraud would put it, The Greater Good.

He left the cellar, not bothering to replace the bottle to its rack, he would be back soon enough, he had a bait to concoct for a pair of mad men after all.

* * *

**July 27th,**

**Great Britain,**

**Hogwarts,**

**Headmasters Office**

The man Known as Dumbledore set aside his quill and read over the plans of protection he would put in place for the fake stone. Since young Harry Potter would be arriving this year he had decided to configure it as a sort of test for the boy as well. A sudden thought occurred to him right then, "Ah, Mitty, service please," a muffled pop from his side announced the arrival of the house elf in charge of Hogwarts' flock of mail owl's.

"Yes Professors Headmaster, how may I be of assistance to you today's, please forgive my bruskness but there are many many letters to be sent and so little time to send them."

The man who known as Dumbledore barely acknowledged the creature, "Yes, yes, I am sure you do. There is a student who should be receiving his letter, one Harry Potter. There may be some difficulties with the delivery, if this is the case," at this he gave the elf his full attention. "You are to keep sending the letter until he receives it, there is no need to notify Professor McGonagall of this."

Mitty shied away slightly, the kindly Headmasters eyes had become so cold, so serious.

"Ah yes, o-of course headmaster, as you say, if that is all?"

The headmaster waved him away, returning to his ever constant nemesis of paperwork.

Mitty popped away, trying frantically to figure out how to fulfill his order as well as keep on schedule.

* * *

**26th of July,**

**Great Britain,**

**Surry,**

**04 Privet Drive**

He had been awake for a few minutes already, just appreciating the quiet and since Uncle Vernon or Dudley wasn't damaging the stairs yet Harry figured he may as well enjoy a few minutes of silence. Then it was the light steps on the stairs that told him differently and that the Anemic Horse would soon be knocking. _"Crack, Crack, Crack,"_ three sharp raps on his little door confirmed it, Aunt Petunia was awake and wanted him to suffer in her bitter presence and snide insults, all while he cooked for the two whales who hadn't been able to roll off their backs yet.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

Unknown to him or his relations that morning was also the time that Pippa the delivery owl, made a series of deliveries that he and his other feathery fellows made every year without fail. The delivery of acceptance letters to the new students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

Harry didn't waste any time in crawling out of the little Closet-Under-The-Stairs that was his room, if he had he would have had to listen to Aunt Petunia's incessant ranting about what a lazy and ungrateful child he was. Lazy, yeah, right, try something other than an adjective, how about a noun. Slave had a nice accurate ring to it. But never the less he still headed into the kitchen, silently pulling out cups, plates and pans from the cabinets. Ingredients from the pantry and refrigerator, all that was necessary for a breakfast of eight.

Once he started he settled into his daily routine, whisk the eggs, mix the batter, fry copious amounts of bacon while subtly adding his own additives without alerting his aunt. Flip the pancakes, ignore Uncle Vernon and Dudley's bellows to hurry up, load up the dishes with enough food to serve a small village, serve and sit. The same pattern he had been performing for almost the last four years since he turned seven without fail, or change. Aside from thinking of new additives and seasonings for their meals of course. 'Maybe it's time to bring back the special hamburger sauce', Harry thought while quietly eating his regular unseasoned eggs.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

Uncle Vernon seemed in a surprisingly good mood that morning, but perhaps it was just a remnant of his late night letter burning. Starting yesterday morning it seemed that someone wanted to contact him really badly. Someone that had apparently not heard of a telephone, or a doorbell, or a knocker it seems as they were instead sending letters. Many, many, letters. Enough so that Uncle Vernon had been able to build a decently sized fire out of them. But it was the downright creepy, off kilter almost psychotic smile of his had encouraged Harry to find an excuse to go to bed without finishing his chores that night. Uncle Vernon seemed to have had other things on his mind so Harry didn't think he had minded as he hadn't beaten him over the head about it yet. Or perhaps it was aunt Petunia's stool softener that he had laced Uncle Vernon's morning coffee with that was distracting him. Nevertheless at least they weren't yelling and so far no letters had. A quiet, "_clu-chunk_", from the front door interupted his train of thought, it seemed he had been too hasty.

Harry's internal musings were brought short by Uncle Vernon sliding the chair that barely held his girth in check back across the linoleum. Aunt Petunia gave Vernon a snap glance as he stood up, "Right back in a spot Pet, just be a tick", he announced before turning and jiggling his way down the hall.

The sounds of ripping coming from the door moments later confirmed his suspicions and when Uncle Vernon returned to his seat at the table that off kilter smile was back on. Harry almost jumped in his seat, 'Oh my.' It seemed even Aunt Petunia and Dudley seemed a bit put off by it, that was new indeed. Harry just sat straighter in his chair and took a bite of eggs.

* * *

**27th of July,**

**Great Britain,**

**Hampstead,**

**15th Lyndhurst Rd**

Jean Granger had always an early riser and as such she usually awoke before her alarm clock could begin ringing, slipping from under the covers she took the clock from her nightstand and cranked the key to wind the internal spring of her Cherry Red Big Ben alarm clock. She didn't really have to pay much attention to her hands but they were still careful, almost exactly four rotations so as not to overexert the internal mechanisms. Jean set the clock back down on the nightstand and began her morning rituals to prepare herself for the day, nothing much as it was a weekend but there was no need to look as a slob. Her body was almost on autopilot as she went through her paces, brushing her teeth, slipping on her clothes for the day; a pair of slacks and polo shirt. Generally the same morning schedule she had kept over the last few decade, the last deviation being when she had still been full with Hermione; she'd had to add morning sickness for those months. She glanced through the window above her and Greggory's bed, he hadn't even shifted, the sky was beginning to take on a pale blue hue, 'It'll be sunup soon, better get started'. She reached over and switched on the alarm of her cloak, her hubby would be up soon, even if she had to use that shrilly ringing monstrosity she had kept with her since she was almost fifth her current age. Her mother had ordered it specifically to break her of her habit of sleeping in, it had worked. Jean just hoped she wouldn't have to use it with Hermione, that girl was brilliant but she just couldn't put down a book to go to bed.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

"Stop, stop I say!", the Bobby chasing her called, blowing his whistle while he pursued her through the streets tried to capture her. Hermione glanced back to grin at him like Ches but the man's enraged visage was blocked from her sight as she ran through the thick forest of legs and coats. She only had to get to Trafalgar Square and she could lose the Bobbies in the side streets. A wisp of air and an enraged shout told her the Bobby had taken a swipe at her, likely trying to get a fistfull of hair but she had thought of that and had her bushy locks cut into a short bob cut. She tightened her grip on the bag of silver shillings she had swiped off the Constables belt and maneuvered past a throng of stuffy looking nobles before launching herself off a bench that would send her over a short fence and into a small garden. The Bobbie would have to do do the same jump or go around and risk letting her get away. Muted sounds reached her ears but she ignored them to concentrate on escaping, she stepped onto another bench to hurdle herself over yet another fence when a blinding light burned into her eyes.

Hermione groaned and pulled her comforter covers up over her eyes to block out the evil light of the sun and the silhouette of the even more evil woman who caused it. She mumbled into the fabric of her duvet cover still not entirely sure if she was in reality or dreaming.

"Yes I am sure you do", the evil shadow said. "But do you want to know something?"

Hermione was sure she mumbled a no but the evil shadow just continued, "I hated my mother just as much, now wake up, breakfast will be ready soon."

The merciful and warm shielding of her comforter began to pull away and try as she might she couldn't keep it from the evil shadows grasp and she was soon exposed to the evil light from her nemesis of flame and exploding gasses. Hermione felt more than heard her mother exit her room but leaving the door open to let the scent of fresh french toast and eggs and sausage to waft into her area of awareness. She grunted in what her grandmother would consider absolutely unwomanly before slowly rising from the rustled sheets of her bed.

Hermione blinked dumbly before heaving herself limply from the still warm bed and trudged over to her dresser, comforted by the similar shuffling noises from down the hall as well as irritated by the obnoxious ringing of the monstrosity her mother called an alarm clock. Pulling open her unmentionables drawer she began to prepare for the day.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

Jean was having a good day, she had gotten most of the things on her to-do list done for that day early and she'd had some fun waking Sebastian and Hermione up. All that was left was to grab the mail and set out the ingredients for the C'est si Boeuf at lunch then the rest of the day was hers to do as she pleased.

Humming in time with the tinkling notes of Beethoven coming from the upstairs sitting room, where Hermione was likely absorbing one book or another, while she made her way to the front door. It was a bit disheartening that her little genius wasn't out with friends, but unfortunately those bridges had been burned to cinders when most of the other students had decided to tease her about her constant reading and good grades. Though if anything good had come from it it was that her little girl had developed a thick skin that allowed her to brush off that nonsense. Still, it was why She and Gregory had convinced Hermione a private secondary school would be best, a fresh start with other students she would be at a similar level with.

Bringing herself out of her musings and collected a pile of mail from the entry table where they had fallen through the mail slot and began shuffling through the stack separating the junk by tossing it into a waste bin below the small table so it could be used later as kindling. Jean let out a short huff as she finished tossing the junk that had been the majority of the mail into the bin before calling for her daughter. "Hermione, you've got mail come on down, looks like another school wants to tell us how they're the best around." It was a bit irritating but apparently despite going to a public primary school Hermione was what some private schools considered a Big Catch. So because of her daughters near perfect academic record they had been receiving far to many letters from schools that each thought and represented themselves like they were the best around, with no equal, it had been a bit amusing but it had gotten old fast. Jean flipped the letter around and examined it, this letter was a different from the others, made of a tougher stock than its predecessors. It actually looked hand-made, even had a wax seal, it was indistinct but it looked like a shield with four animals under a fancy Latin inscription that was smudged beyond recognition. Jean turned around to call back up the stairs again but her daughter started trudging down before she could, "This came for you", she said, "looks like another school letter but I can't make out the name, looks Fantaisie though".

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

Hermione read through the letter a second time unconsciously worrying her lip as she was to do while figuring out a difficult problem. She glanced up incredulously at her mother after her second read through, "This is a joke right, something you and Dad rigged up?"

'There was just no way this was real, it just couldn't be', she thought.

"Of course not, why would you think that", her mother asked a bit of indignation and confusion appearing in her usually composed expression.

She waved around the sheaf of what she figured to be parchment, "Because, this is an acceptance letter, a completely ridiculous and presumptuous one if I may say." Hermione thrust the letter at her mum, "Here, read it and tell me what you think", she said a bit exasperated as her mother took the letter.

Her mother was silent as she read and re-read the contents of the letter, "I think you need to get your father for this, this wasn't our doing", she glanced up at her daughter a bit of concern in her expression, causing her lips to purse and eyes to scrunch up. "He should out back in his workshop refinishing the cabinet doors or slacking off to the Beatles again."

Hermione snorted at the last bit before heading to the backyard, her father often had some project going, and as such he had built himself a shed to work in so as not to make a mess in the house. His most current project being to refinish the cabinet doors, much to her mothers ire. It had been quite amusing though to come home with her mother from the store and find all the cabinet doors in the kitchen missing, she had been quite irate with him and had cornered him in his workshop where he had already started sanding them down. Hermione had been sent back in but her mother had come out quite a bit later, she imag her mom had given him quite the dressing down.

Leaving the coolness of her home she walked the few paces to the medium-sized shed where a loud but muffled buzzing was originating from, she tried the door handle, locked. Well only one thing to do, Hermione stooped down and picked up a rounded fist sized rock and began beating on a dented piece of wood nailed onto the door. It was an improvised knocker that her father had installed after her mom had gotten tired of knocking using her fist and had picked up the first heavy thing she saw. He had gotten the point after she had gouged and bashed her way halfway through the door. Hermione kept it up for almost a minute, beating the stone against the piece of wood, gradually compressing the piece and giving it a light sheen by the time her father opened the door. And when he finally opened the door he was filthy, absolutely covered in dust with the only semi clean spots being around around his eyes and mouth respectively.

He glanced at the dented knocking plate and rubbed it with his thumb for a moment before turning back his daughter with a smile, "Yes, dear?"

"Mum's asking for you, I got a letter from another school just now but it's pretty weird", she said.

"Weird how, exactly", he asked, slightly apprehensive but curious, "Clown and Traveling Circus Weird?".

She shook her head, "Just weird, it would be easier for you to read it yourself", Hermione coughed a bit from a whiff of dust that escaped the shed. "I'll tell her your cleaning yourself up", she said a bit exasperated, her father had come inside dusty before, her mother had taken one look at the dusty shoe prints and the dust permeating the air with a look of pure disdain and gone upstairs after her husband, it hadn't been the last time he had done so but they incidents were few and far between.

Her father looked at his clothes, just realizing then that he had a thick layer of wood dust across his person, "That may be a good idea, you go back in darling, i'll be just a minute."

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

Hermione watched her father from beside her mother on the couch as he examined the letter in his hands. He had read it then asked if they were having him on then began examining the letter like a particularly bad dental problem when they answered him in negative. He turned the letter every witch way, felt the edges of the parchment, the taste of it and he ink and even burned a little bit of it with a candle; he was honestly acting as if he was Sherlock Holmes.

"Well I can say with a fair amount of certainty that the letter is completely handmade, its professional quality work, you can buy the same materials at specialty stationery shops", he locked eyes with her mother and glanced at her briefly.

"Whoever sent this does this thing a lot to, when I was little and we used fountain pens in prep", he said, "it took forever to learn not to smear the ink, only our teacher could do it perfectly and he had been teaching for over twenty years at that point.

"It mentions a blank white card were supposed to write our response on? Where is that", he asked.

"It's in the envelope, I left it at the front door I think, "her mother answered getting up from beside Hermione, "hold on a tic while I get it." She and her father sat in an awkward silence for a minute until her mother came back holding the thick envelope by a corner and handed it to her father. "Well, , is the vile after our little genius, or is it the wicked Morgana Le Fay", the lilt of her mothers voice the serious face she was wearing, obviously Hermione wasn't the only one who had thought his earlier actions a bit comical.

Her father chuckled a bit, accepting her mothers jest at his expense. "Yes, yes all make fun of the only man in the room," he shook his head as if to clear it. "In all seriousness though", he looked his daughter in the eyes, "Hermione, have you noticed anyone strange lately, anyone who seemed nervous or twitchy, has anyone approached you, anyone who seemed," a paused a bit, "off?"

She was already shaking her head before he finished, "No, and there's been no one around the school like that, after Shelly Swanson the police have had a Bobby that patrols near the school.

Her father sank back into his chair in frustrated contemplation, she knew what he was asking and why, no one had thought something like what happened to Shelly could happen. Sure people had known the Swanson's were having a rough divorce, but when had taken Shelly from school and tried to flee the country.

Well it had caused no shortage of chaos and even after all was settled everyone at the school was taught to be on the lookout for anyone suspicious, avoiding strangers and the like.

Her internal musings were cut short however by her father reading aloud from the letter, "For further information and to speak with a school administrator or to give an acceptance confirmation please make note with an available date of this on the provided slip of parchment and place in on the front stoop, a response will be arrive within the next 18-36 hours, ect, ect." He, stopped his reading and set the letter onto the tea table and retrieving the envelope in the same movement. He examined that and the wax stamp for a bit before removing the slip of parchment the letter had indicated, if anything it looked a fair bit thicker than the rest of the letter, more durable perhaps. "They don't even offer rejection as a third option," he murmured to himself quietly but not quietly enough for her not to hear.

Her father flipped it in his fingers for a bit, not really paying attention to it though if his far off gaze was any indication.

"Hermione," she turned to look at her mother, "why don't you go upstairs, me and your father need to talk in private, ok. I'll call up when its ok, to come back down."

"Al-Alright," she said, and she got up from her seat and made her way back up to her room.

Hermione closed her door behind her before crossing the room and flopping down on her bed, she tried to pick up where she had been in her Algebra book but her mind just kept wandering back to the letter. "Magic, honestly that's just fiction," she set aside the thick math book and notes to look at her bulging shelf of books against the wall.

"Fiction, maybe that will work", she re crossed her room to look through the numerous titles of fiction she owned, sure she mostly read things with a bit more weight but still, her finger stopped on an faded green hardback, a first edition she had gotten from her grandmother, it was in french of course but she could use the practice. "Maybe Tolkien can help distract me."

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

"So, well watch and see who takes it," Gregory said while he gripped his cricket bat a bit tighter, squeezing it as such for the leather grip to creak.

"And with just a bit of string and a bell we will know the instant someone does," Jean said from her kneeling position as she tied a length of yarn to a bell that was hanging from the door knob.

"That the plan," he said while his wife stood back up and patted imaginary bits of dust off her knees. He turned to go up the stairs so he could look out on the front stoop from the second story, but as soon as he placed foot on the step the bell began clanging. Jean, who was closest, quickly yanked open the door and stepped over so he could move to her side, bat in hand.

But the doorway was empty, they looked up and down and all they saw was a few wispy feathers floating to the ground. With a large grey owl retreating over the houses across the street, Gregory's eyes followed the feathers down to where they settled on the front mat and noticed for the first time the distinct lack of the slip he and Jean had set out, only moments before.

* * *

**28th of July,**

**Great Britain,**

**Surrey,**

**04 Privet Drive**

'Huh', Harry just stared dumbly at the cracked open egg in his hand, 'who knew letters could be delivered in eggs', of course his time of contemplation didn't last long. The folded up letter and egg were snatched from his hands, harry had to say this for his aunt; for such a loud, bitter and obnoxious person sure could be quiet when she wanted. "Such unnaturalness, ruining our eggs with this garbage." She pushed him roughly to the side, turned on the garbage disposal and began shoving the letter and the rest of the eggs down it with the whisk; completely bending it out if shape in the process. Practically sensing him watching her she whipped around staring at him like he was slow in the head. "Well boy, are you going to stand there or are you going to set the table; and while you're earning your keep dust the shelves," she called after he had left the kitchen.

Like was usual though whenever they gave him a chore, he just went on autopilot, letting his mind wander and just think about things while he robotically performed whatever menial task they had set. Like how his _Family_ had been acting lately, ever since that first letter had arrived they had been, was nervous the word? Yeah, nervous sounded right and there was the fact that his Aunt and Uncle had been watching him when they thought he couldn't see them. Idiots though they were never realized a simple thing, glass is reflective. Uncle Vernon had even been holding Dudley back from whacking Harry with his Smeltings stick, not that it did much, Dudley had about the accuracy and depth perception of a pie.

By the time Aunt Petunia was finished with breakfast Dudley was whining about her taking to long and Uncle Vernon….. Well uncle Vernon looked like he may have loosened his screws a bit with one of his companies drills. Heavy blackish purple bags under the eyes, hair worse than Harrys ever was on a bad day and his eyes had that slightly manic glint to them that he'd had the last few days since he had started his campaign of letter burning. Somehow however he had managed to keep his clothes neat, despite the fact he had slept in them.

"Ah" Uncle Vernon said while taking a bite of a biscuit, then a sip of tea. "Sunday, and what doesn't come on Sunday; Dudley", he asked his son.

"Um, uh, no mail on Sundays?" Dudley stuttered, not wanting to guess wrong.

It was obviously a question answer but it seemed even Ikkle Dudders had noticed his father's state and obsession with the mail over the last few days. He also noted that Aunt Petunia neglected to mention the eggs and lack thereof on the table, Dudley did notice though judging by his disappointed expression but wisely chose not to ask by the sharp look his mother shot him.

That's it, he would have to get ahold of one of the letters; it had been a bit amusing at first, but now. Now it was getting quite out of hand, even a bit of a letter would do, a name of sender or something, anything that would help tell them to shove off.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

Pippa the delivery owl hooted angrily at the residence his letter was supposed to be delivered to; his anger was at the fact that this had been the fifth of delivery of the exact same letter. It had took quite a long flight to fly from the roost to deliver the letters and for the last two a headwind from a coming storm had slowed him and his feathery fellows considerably. They were being received sure, the long eared ones had told them so, but not by the one they were intended for, they were being intercepted apparently and that just made Pippa frustrated.

He lifted his tail feathers and let a satisfying large dropping land squarely on the glass of a vehicle below him. The ruffle of feathers and the shriek of one of his fellows drew his attention to a young hatchling that was soaring to the back of the house. Likely to peck at a window but doubtless to fail to work, no instead Pippa eyed the tall column of hollow bricks that rose from the home. For the past few nights smoke had come out of it, Pippa was a smart bird though and he was thinking that if something can come out then what if something can go back in. Pippa turned to a perch mate and began to hoot his plan, hopefully the others of his flock listening in would follow his lead.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

The tense quiet of breakfast was not to last, as halfway through eating a sharp rapping at the kitchen window alerted the four people at the table to an owl, perched on the window sill with a familiar looking letter held firmly in its beak. 'Huh, First egg's and now owls, this sender is really persistent', Harry thought. But quick enough Aunt Petunia was at the windows and pulling the curtains shut. "Hmph, thank you pet, ruddy vermin have been everywhere lately", Uncle Vernon remarked, Harry decided not to point out it was still tapping at the glass.

A few minutes later the owl seemed to give up and it flew away to join the rest of the hoard of its kind that had stationed themselves out front over the last few days. It was at the after breakfast rest that one of the owls had the idea to drop its letter down the chimney where it floated down onto the sitting room table, right on top of the cookie Uncle Vernon was reaching for. Now that just seemed a bit too smart for an owl, even a trained one, sure he had read a bit about them before and how they were smart, how they could turn there heads all the way around and such. But to drop a letter down a chimney with a rain cover, that was a bit- 'Oh, another one'. And indeed there was another letter, right on top of the one that the great red Walrus had just finished ripping up, 'My that certainly is an interesting colour,' he though as he scarced a glance at his uncle. Harry didn't even think skin could turn purple like that if it wasn't bruised or on a corpse

.

A loud rustling from the fireplace grabbed everyone's attention, a rustling and scraping that reminded him of when a badger had gotten into the bushes last year; his Uncle had of course sent him rouse it out. Then the unexpected, and most likely impossible happened, letters upon letters came flying out of the fireplace like a busted Fire Plug so fastand thick that in seconds the floor was covered with more were still coming. After the initial shock had worn off Diddykins had heaved his girth into his mothers arms and Vernon had risen to his feet looking like he was about to snap. Harry wanted to snap his fingers as he realized what color his uncle had turned, it was called Puce, he was sure of it. From the corner of his eye he saw his uncle reaching for him but Harry ducked under the arm, its meaty, chicken sized fist grabbing nothing but a few hairs that were promptly ripped out. Harry was hunched over next to the table now, he spied bits of ripped up paper and was able to surreptitiously snatch up a handful of the shredded paper before he was grasped by the neck from behind. Despite drawing little breath, he shoved his handful of paper down his trousers while being dragged down the hall and roughly thrown into his cupboard.

After regaining his breath he sighed internally as it was a bit hard to breathe at that moment, but he had succeeded, he now could get some clue to who was sending the letters. Harry rubbed his neck to bring back some blood flow, but he couldn't check them yet, not now at least, maybe when everyone else had gone to sleep and right now the thundering of footsteps up and down the stairs above his head told him that wouldn't be happening anytime soon.

Not ten minutes his earlier idea to wait until later was proven fortuitous as his door was yanked open and he was hauled out by the arm by Uncle Vernon who forced to turn out his pockets, he was even given a pat down. He was also asked if he had any of the letters and a hand on his jaw kept him from looking away but his muffled "no" seemed to be enough, and it was true that he wasn't, not a whole one anyway. Then before he knew it he was being tossed into the backseat of Vernon's sedan with some baggage digging into his left kidney and they were off, speeding down the highway into the countryside, almost like one big happy family. Yeah, right.

* * *

**July of the 28th,**

**Great Britain,**

**Location Unknown,**

**Uncle Vernon's Car.**

They rode in a heavy awkward silence for most of the drive, mostly in part because Uncle Vernon was muttering under his breath like a loon about freaks and unnaturalness. Fortunately for Aunt Petunia, who had been shifting around like she was hoping for a rest stop, didn't have to break the silence to ask, it was Dudley who did. He had started with a bit of whining every couple of minutes, nothing that was likely to set off Uncle Vernon. But by the time the sun had gone down and the urban sprawl was long behind them he was kicking the back of his father's seat, forgetting out of anger at being ignored or simple petulance that his father wasn't in a quite right state of mind. Eventually Uncle Vernon conceded to his sons tantrum and his wifes silent pleas to stop at a Bed n' Breakfast, not the best one either as it looked like it had seen better days, with paint peeling in a few places, obviously it had seen better times. Unfortunately when the time came to rent room for the night Uncle Vernon discovered the downsides to leaving the house in a rush, he hadn't brought enough money to pay for two rooms; or even enough to pay for two beds. So thus after much whining on Dudley's part it was decided he would be sleeping on the couch and Harry would be sleeping in the bathtub with a ratty rolled up towel for a pillow. He simply laid there for a while, waiting, listening, until he was sure the others were asleep before slipping out of the tub and digging the letter shreds out of his drawers; ignoring how they now smelled a bit like Dudley and started arranging them on the toilet lid.

It took a while to get the scraps all sorted out with their other halves, and much of it was trashed, either the words missing letters or smudged into oblivion while hidden down his trousers. Some things though were clear and easy to read while some he had to infer and guess at from cut off words and other scraps. It seemed like some kind of an acceptance letter but some of it stood out more than others and were suspicious. Albus Dumb, Merlin First, Accepted, Cupboard Under The Stairs, Hogwarts School of Witch, Wizardry, September 1st, July 31st, Pointed Hat, Dragon Hid, Book of Spells, Magical Theory, Thousand Magical Herbs, Dark Forces, One Wand, Broomstick. 'Looks like some type of Fantasy Fiction acceptance letter and supply list, maybe for a magicians school, could magic be real; it would certainly explain the letters'? But the part that was really troubling him and tying up his thought process was how the bloody hell they knew his room to be the Cupboard-Under-The-Stairs.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

When they all woke in the morning they learned something unfortunate, as it turned out that B&B's can have some fairly costly breakfasts; so as such with Uncle Vernon's limited budget, it was a terribly bleak and miserable affair, much like the B&B itself. A sandwich for Vernon, stale cereal without milk for Dudders, a cup of Black coffee for Petunia and a small can of out of date diced tomatoes for himself, yum. But if that wasn't bad enough a rather harried looking clerk from the front desk had came around asking if there was a Harry Potter with us holding a stack of familiar letters, saying he had a hundred of em. So one pulsating neck vein from his Uncle and ten minutes later everyone was bundled into the car. Oh, there was something digging into his kidney, again. Harry figured he would be pissing blood at this rate.

* * *

**July 30th,**

**Great Britain,**

**Hogwarts,**

**Deputy Headmistresses Office.**

Minerva McGonagall sank into her chair, it was a nice piece, hand crafted Italian leather softened up by fourtyseven solid years of use; she could just melt into it and she did so on a regular basis.

Minerva reclined herself even further, some would call it a slouch and some would even be right, she nursed a glass of Glenfiddich while she spun a golden necklace on her index finger.

What she was doing was probably a bad idea but at the moment she didn't really care. She was tired, it was a pervasive ache, she was tired even of thinking. She let the chain winde around her hand the little hourglass bobble on the end rattling slightly as its contents settled. With an exhausted sigh she drew open the center left drawer on her desk emptying it of its miscellaneous contraband contents by the handful upon the floor. Minerva pressed down and pushed forward on the bottom of the drawer, with a muted click the false bottom popped open revealing a velvet lined false bottom that only she knew existed or could find. There were so many spells created over many centuries the world across that were used reveal and open things hidden by magic. This little hidey hole of hers wasn't protected by magic though, just some tricky muggle carpentry skills.

So many of her kind who used magic became complacent, holding a belief of superiority over all things muggle, she knew from experience that this was complete shite. She, Minerva McGonagall was the one who introduced the muggle borns to their society every year and with those yearly visits to the muggle world she was able to see quite clearly how the muggles were advancing, how quickly. So it was needless to say that after doing her yearly duty for the past fifty some odd years she had been able to observe how quickly the muggle world was progressing and it had only emphasized how stagnant her own native society was. Sure when she had been but a wee lass the most advanced thing of the age was the self propelled lorries, machines that belched smoke and were considered just a passing fancy.

But In just one hundred years the muggles had gone from horse and buggy and those primitive lorries to creating machines that could fly dozens or hundreds of people across the worlds oceans. The British Wizarding society had created faster brooms, it was only one comparison but one of the more blatant and easily observable ones.

Of course she wasn't able speak for the entire world and frankly she hadn't seen nearly as much of it as she would have liked. She was an educator, a Deputy Headmistress and she didn't have nearly as much time for vacationing as she would have liked. Of course that was only exacerbated what with Albus shunting off much of his responsibilities as Headmaster onto her while he played games in the wizengamot and ICW. But still, she hoped and doubted the whole world wasn't like the british isles.

She dropped the coiled necklace onto a pillow of crushed velvet, it wasn't the only special thing in the hidden compartment. She'd stored little things that she had collected over the years hidden away in there, knicks and knacks that had some sort of value in one way or another.

Near the back a cloth wrapped object drew her attention, wrapped as it was it would indistinct if not for the partially exposed wooden handle, it was a bit dusty she noted. Normally Minerva didn't pay notice it and she hadn't had it out in so long. She made a promise to herself she would clean it and make sure it was still in working order. 'In the meantime though', she closed and re-covered the false bottom with junk, 'I have to make sure that this place doesn't fall around our ears for another year.'

So with yet another heavy sigh Minerva pulled a pile of documents from the INbox on her desk and began cramping her wrist into oblivion, her only reprieve was when she got to use her special new stamp. She had gotten it on a trip to muggle London of course, it allowed her to sign her name quickly and with ease, she just had to ensure that the Weasley twins never discovered it.

* * *

**Date Unknown,**

**Location Unknown,**

**Time Unknown.**

Harry forced his eyes to open, coated with crust as they were that they naturally resisted the action. Slowly he started stretching, as much as he was able to that is; the very action pulled and tugged at his skin. Sleeping under the tarp had helped but after spending what he believed to be well over 24 hours in the sun by then he had had quite a bit more sun exposure, and subsequent burning, than would be advised by any doctor. He slowly lifted himself from the layer of clothes he had placed on the wood as a cushion and checked to see if there was anymore water, thankfully there was.

Harry eventually was able to shift himself into a position where he could look dip his finger into what little there was of the remaining puddle of rainwater in the boat, he tasted it, slightly salty but it wouldn't matter in the short-term if he died of thirst. Harry leaned over the puddle and took a slow slurp, it burned his mouth, his ripped lips in particular. He collapsed back into his makeshift bed and stared at the ocean through a gap in the tarp between the hull of the dinghy. He hurt all over, not the ache of a beating but a sharp sting of pain whenever he pulled a burned area too quickly.

There was a bit of hope though, he had seen the tower of a ship in the distance the other day, at least he thought it was the other day. It had been to far away to even try and exert the effort of drawing attention though, he was desperate but not dumb enough to think they would hear or notice him. But with the sighting of the ship Harry had figured he must be on a shipping lane, one that passed close to the channel presumably, so there was that hope. But in some ways that was even worse, knowing that your salvation could possibly be just over the horizon and not knowing it it would ever come.

* * *

**Translations**

Dear readers, as I am using Google Translate (_as well as other websites as necessary_) for many of these I would appreciate it if someone recognizes a mistake would kindly drop a review or PM to let me know. In advance thank you.

{English translation} : {What it is being translated to} : {Translated word or phrase}

Beef Stew : French : C'est si Boeuf (Yeah I kinda lost the original translation and google churned out gibberish sooooo, yeah. Takin a swing in the dark)

Fancy : French : Fantaisie

* * *

Authors note 2,

Holy hell, I am not sure how I could have released this chapter as it was, there really is no explanation for why I would or could. Frankly I kinda cringe at seeing this, I can't even remember if I thoroughly edited this the first time. Although admittedly I was typing it on my phone at the time so that could be it.

Anyway here is chapter one 2.0, fixed a bunch of punctuation that I think got jacked up when It got uploaded originally, grammar, expanded it a bit, fixed up run on sentences,etc etc. So to those who read the original iteration of this chapter, please let me know how I did. Even if ten% of you drop a tip or comment it would help greatly in editing Chapter Two.

KiDz

P.S. Has anyone ever experienced Words being lost when uploading? If so please let me know.

* * *

(Origional) Authors Note,

For those of you whom finished the chapter, thank you. If you could leave a Review on you way out it would be much appreciated.

As this is my first worthwhile foray into the world of writing (Fan)Fiction I would appreciate constructive criticism that can help me refine my writing, I will admit this chapter is a bit rough but I would have never ended up releasing it if I wanted it Perfect on its first publishing, I published this twice before and deleted them moments later due to realizing mistakes I had missed or forgotten about. To that end Reviews and P.M's containing helpful criticism would be appreciated.

At the moment I am still smoothing out some things but several things that are glaringly obvious to me is my punctuation (at least to me it is), and that I believe I sometimes get off track, or ramble and Continuity.

As I do not have a Beta Reader there are likely to be things that I may not have noticed or ignored due to believing it not incorrect or simply missing it entirely.

Again, if you have continued to read this far, thank you.

KiDz


	2. Chapter Two: (Title too long)

Disclaimer: The Author of this work of FanFiction does not own any of the copyrighted works used in this work of fiction, inspiration and ideas are drawn consciously ( and sometimes unconsciously) from many places. Including but not limited to TV, Books, Comics, World News, Websites, Politics and many others. This author does not represent the interests or opinions of the original authors of these works.

The primary Authors note for the chapters of this story are located at the end. For those of you (most likely among the majority) who do not read the authors notes either before nor after the bulk of the chapter, this is for you.

Constructive criticism is appreciated and I look forward to it, however if you wish to "Flame" please do so in a clear and concise manner so as I can attempt to fix the problem.

"Character Speaking"

"Character Reading Aloud"

"CHARACTER YELLING"

'Character Thinking'

'Character Reading mentally'

Character Narration

Magic/ Spell use or Quoting 

Section or Date / Title

And now, I hope you enjoy this chapter, Of Fakes and Frauds

**Chapter Two: Adventures, Misadventures and The Unknown**

* * *

**July 31st,**

**Great Britain,**

**Hogwarts,**

**Headmasters Office**

The Man Known as Dumbledore lifted his quill from the document he was filling out and turned his head to listen, there it was again, a faint echo. 'What the devil is that,' he listened for a moment longrt, it seemed to be coming closer, he dipped his quill in the reservoir though and continued working, no matter it was likely just peeves.

He had only signed off on two other forms when the gargoyle notified him of the Half Giant waiting outside. He sighed in exasperbation and set his quill down again, 'The oaf must have forgotten the passcode again,' despite how easy he made them to guess. Dumbledore waved his free hand, "let him in," moments later he could hear the pounding his way up the escalator-esk stairs. He leaned back, folding his hands in his lap and applied his gentle, genial grandfatherly expression, no need to let his irritation show through and scare the halfwit.

The door burst open seconds later, smashing into the stone wall next to it and rebounded, hitting the giant of a man who entered quickly after. To his credit Hagrid didn't even look like he had noticed. He stood there breathing heavily, hunched over in exertion sucking in deep breaths, there were even small sweat marks on his coat.

The man Known as Dumbledore frowned, there was something wrong; he could almost sense it. "What's wrong Hagrid, I thought you were retrieving young Harry."

The man finally caught his breath, "Tha- thats It sir, it's Harry, I followed the device you gave me," the man pulled a small silver compass like device from one of his many pockets. Hagrid set the device on his desk, "I followed it like you said sir, I was headed in tha direction it showed before it went crazy," he gestured at the device that Dumbledore now noticed was spinning like a top, stopping momentarily, twisting about then resuming it's spinning again.

Dumbledore paled down the roots of his white hair, there were very few things that would cause this, he only hoped he was wrong in this case.

"So ah kept going the way I was goin till ah reached the coast, ah asked around for a bit and sure enough ah found tha Dursleys," his face tightened in anger, small eyes narrowing and stating to well up. "They didn know where ee was, the fat lump of a father threw the wee lass into their raft after knocking him about." Hagrid rubbed at his watery eyes, "Tha raft was washed away sir, tha waves washed away tha entire dock. Ee's gone Professor, ah flew around searching for as long as ah could but, but, ah just couldn' find im in the storm!" He wailed and seemed to collapse in on himself. The strength left the massive man, he collapsed to his rear weeping.

Dumbledore wasn't paying attention to him anymore though, all he was thinking was that the boy had been washed out to sea, the scenario he had hoped wasn't true. There was a chance, yes, that he could be alive. But he had no way of tracking him down while he was away from the land. Dumbledore stood tall, he needed more information, "Hagrid," he asked but the man just kept weeping. He sighed in exasperation, stepping out from behind his desk and kneelingdown in front of the man. He pushed the man's head and hair back to look into his beady, watery eyes. One quick legilimency probe later and he had an the location of a shack perched precariously upon a outcropping of rock, surrounded by tumultuous seas.

The man Known as Dumbledore stood, twisting in a single motion to apparate directly in front of a empty door frame where just inside a fat, corpulent man was attempting to lift the door back into place. Vernon Dursley, just the man he wanted. Dumbledore stepped through the entry and had his wand upon the oaf before he could attempt to attack or flee. "I have questions that you need to answer, _Legilimance_!"

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

The man Known as Dumbledore left the shack just scant minutes later, stopping he glanced back through the empty doorway with a sneer. Disgust the likes he hadn't felt in a long, long time raged through him. Such disgusting people, how they could treat a child as they had done, let alone a blood relation. He shook his head, still though the memories he had examined showed that the boy was intelligent, far more intelligent than the family had noticed at least and quite the cunning little deviant.

Absentmindedly he waved his wand at the shack, causing several sharp crunching cracks to echo from the structure behind him. He had done only what time would have done eventuality, now it was up to nature to decide whether the Dursleys would live to see tomorrow. He twisted in place and apparated to Diagon Alley, he had plans to recalculate. But first he had a stone to pick up.

* * *

**September 1st,**

**Great Britain,**

**Kings Cross Station,**

**10:35 AM**

"Are you sure of the platform pumpkin, you can see from here that there is no platform Nine and Three Quarters," her father questioned.

Hermione wanted to sigh in exasperation, "I know, there isn't an official platform by that name, I even called ahead and checked." Hermione leaned forward to rest against the railing before her, "I can only assume that the Three Quarters part of the name could only mean the third column between platforms nine and ten. Something like the wall to diagon alley perhaps but less noticeable," she thought aloud.

Hermione turned her attention back to the aforementioned area of the platform. From their position on the footbridge she and her father were able to see much of the station, it was a surprisingly nice view. It was interesting watching the trains departing and unloading passengers, synchronised as they were. But she had only eyes for what she was sure was the entrance to a platform that should have been impossible to exist.

"Yeah your probably right, but still, i'm beginning to think these people have no common sense whatsoever." Her father indicated the fairly large trunk they had bought on their group trip with the other muggle borns to diagon alley. The thing had weighed almost a as much as she had when they bought it and when filled, had weighed to much to move without breaking her back. It had also suck out like a sore thumb, a great ugly brown thumb. So to try and make it more convenient and less of an eyesore her dad attached some casters along the bottom to help her move it about without needing a dolly. Then, while he was working on it, Hermione requested he remove the obnoxious Hogwarts emblem from the lid and that in its place he paint family motto.

There is no try, there is only to be, or not to be, Hermione supposed that she had been following that motto throughout her childhood, it would only seem apt to keep to it. Deciding to add her own piece her mom had painted an orchard of swirling trees from her birth name.

And as a final addition her father had created a false bottom to the trunk using cabinet latches so all she had to do was use a hair pin in the right place and it would pop open. Her father's reasoning had been for it that borrowing without permission had been a fairly common during his own days in secondary school.

"Hey, Hermione look," her father subtly jerked his head to a large group of gingers pushing trolleys loaded with trunks and an owl cage. "You were right."

Hermione watched the family with a calculative eye as they approached the area she believed the platform entrance to be. Sure enough the family was making a beeline toward the third brick column. After stopping briefly to wait for a lull in the crowd the family one by one and without checking to see if anyone was watching, began to walk straight into, then through the brick. One by one they ran at the column until a gangly boy she believed to be in her age group ran his own trolley through the column at a near sprint, he was followed soon after by what she assumed to be the mother and a small girl with no luggage. "You were right as well, they have no common sense. Not a single one of them checked to see if anyone was watching them," she said to her father.

"Yeah but nobody reacted to it either, must be something like how me and your mother couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at first," he checked his watch. "Uh oh, you need to get going or you'll miss your ride," he pulled her into a tight hug. "Please keep safe sweet heart, send me and your mum lots of letters, otherwise she'll get into a panic and start pestering me."

Hermione laughed a bit at that, "I love you to dad," she reluctantly pulled away from him and grabbed the handle of her trunk. "Just get the cabinets back together and you should be safe from her wrath," her father chuckled a bit at the jab.

"Just stay safe sweety, now get going," he shooed at her, "otherwise I might just keep you here long enough for you to miss your ride."

Hermione turned and began fast walking her way toward the third support column that hid platform nine and three quarters. She looked back only once, just before she passed through the entrance, she almost missed it but on her fathers face; an expression she had never seen before. It made her want to go back and hug him, then she passed through the wall completely.

* * *

**September 1st,**

**Great Britain,**

**Unknown Province,**

**Platform 9 ¾ Proper,**

**10:45 AM**

Platform Nine and Three Quarters was in a single word; busy, parents and children were rushing to an fro. Giving final goodbyes before they boarded the train cars of the Hogwarts Express, Hermione really had to wonder how and why they used it. The situation was strange, supposedly the entire student population came to and from the school by train, a steam powered train, a slow train. This just didn't make any sense to her, she knew witches and wizards had other means of transportation, Floo, Apparation, Portkey's, Brooms just being a few and likely many other forms of transportation. Then there was the fact that she was sure the vehicle had liekly been stolen or bought because after seeing diagon alley construction there was no way she could fathom them being able to construct such a machine. It was of no matter though, she would simply add it to her list of subjects to look up once she had access to the Hogwarts library.

From her pocket she drew a pocket notebook and made a notation to an increasingly long list of peculiarities she had noticed since she had been introduced to the, quote, Wizarding World.

After making her way through the throngs of people on the platform proper she was able to board the train with little difficulty, barring getting her trunk into the carriage.

Hermione began to worry her lip as she continued to pass each consecutively full compartment, "I knew I should have gotten here sooner. She pushed her way through the train cars but It wasn't until she reached the very second to last car that she was able to find a non-full compartment. Or one that didn't have older students or groups of friends at least, this one only held one person, a boy brown wizarding robes who appeared around her age. He was a bit rotund but it was more along the lines of leftover baby pudge. He also hadn't seemed to have noticed her, standing in the doorway for the past minute as she had been. From the way he had his hands cupped tight he appeared a bit busy keeping something squirming from escaping

Hermione knocked on the door frame just as he managed to get what she guessed to be a toad or frog from a glimpse of foot, into a box held between his knees. She fidgeted awkwardly a bit when his head snapped up to see her standing there, "Do you mind if I sit with you, this was the first compartment I found that wasn't to crowded."

He looked a bit surprised that there was someone asking to sit with him, almost to the point that It took him a few seconds of gaping to respond. "Of course, please come in, let me help you with your trunk; Gran would skin my hide if she found out didn't help a girl." She cringed in sympathy for him, he had mumbled it fairly quietly but it sounded like his grandmother was a bit like hers, nothing but a Proper Lady. With a grunt and a single, swift heave the boy had lifted and stored the trunk in an overhead rack. Wiping his hands on his trousers the boy stuck his hand out to shake and introduced himself, "The names Neville, Neville Longbottom, I am pleased to make your acquaintance," he was polite and seemed genuinely pleased to meet her but it had sounded rehearsed. Neville definitely had a grandmother like her own, she shook his hand.

"Hermione Granger, pleased to meet you as well," they stood there for a moment before he beckoned her into the compartment. "I'm so sorry, just letting you stand in the hallway like that."

She wanted to laugh a bit, he was practically tripping over himself, his grandmother must be one piece of work.

"You can relax, I don't really care much for all that formality stuff. I'm going to take a guess but your Grandmere is a most, Proper Lady." Hermione smiled at his surprised expression, "Am I right?"

He blinked at her like she was an alien or something, "Uh, Um, Yeah how did you know," he indicated the casters on her trunk. "I had figured you were a muggleborn."

Hermione was honestly surprised, he was more observant than she had figured, "My own, Grandmere is the same way whenever I have to suffer prolonged exposure to her. She always wants to turn me into a proper lady and yeah, i'm a muggle born, so, what of it," she asked, a bit indignant.

Nevill sputtered, "W-Well it was a bit of a guess, I meant no offence but I noticed the rollers on your trunk." He huffed, "No member of a pureblood family would be allowed to use something like that, myself included." He shrugged," That and I figured if you were a halfblood one of your parents would have used a featherweight charm or something. That only left the only possibility as you being a muggle born, i'm sorry if I insulted you," he stood," I can leave if you like.

"No, no its fine, I just had a bad encounter with some pompous, blonde, tosser while I was getting my books at Diagon," she said.

"Im sorry you had to be subjected to the likes of Lucius Malfoy, not all purebloods are like that fortunately. Theres just a portion of them that believe that muggleborns shouldn't be allowed to have magic," he shook his head sadly. "There are even some who think that muggles are stealing magic because they keep having children who are almost squibs," he sank into himself at that but pulled himself out of it a second later. "Gran tried to explain it to me she said it had to do with how the majority of the purebloods are inter related or something, I can probably trace my family line to a third of the people at who will be at school."

Hermione squinted at Neville, "How did you know who I was talking about, I never said the tossers name?"

"HA," Neville let out a bark like laugh, "Did he have really long blond hair?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

Neville nodded, "How about a gaudy looking cane?"

She nodded again, "Uh huh."

Neville sighed, "Yeah he's fairly well known and unfortunately his spawn, Draco will be in our year. He's just as bad as his father but lacks the savvy or political smarts."

Well that answered her most recent question so she shifted back to their earlier conversation. "Back to what we were talking about earlier though; It's called inbreeding, for plants and animals its generally fine and often used to bring out a certain trait, but for people to do it," she grimaced. "It's very bad, to put it simply, it causes all sorts of health problems after to many generations of interbreeding. The royalty in the muggle world did it often and it caused tons of problems in their descendants-"

Neville sat up and interjected, "That's really similar to what Gran told me," he snapped his fingers. "I also remember reading something like that about Mandrake propagation. There a somewhat sentient plant that look like really ugly children, the book said breeding them together for to many generations can adversely affect their properties in potions, growth rates, and a whole bunch of other things."

"Really, theres a PLANT like that?" Hermione queried, "I only bought the assigned book for herbology and focused more on the subjects of Runes, Charms and Transfiguration."

Neville nodded and a relaxed and comfortable expression settled over him, "Oh yeah, there are tons of magical plants like that, I doubt well get to see much of them this year though, they can be a bit dangerous."

Hermione smiled at him, recognising the expression as one one had when explaining something they are passionate about. "You seem to know a lot about herbology," she casually commented in an attempt to get him talking.

Neville perked up, "You bet! The longbottoms have been involved with plants for as far back as we have records, ive even got my own greenhouse back home-"...

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

"Oh and just a month ago Gran got me a juvenile Venomous Tent-"

Neville was cut off as the compartment door was jerked open hard enough to rattle the glass and in the doorway stood a boy there approximate age with blonde slicked back hair.

The boy looked at them and turned his nose up as if he smelled something bad; he sneared, "You must have no shame Longbottom, associating yourself with such mudblood filth."

Hermione bristled at the insult, but she ignored it and narrowed her eyes while she closely examined the pompous boy. 'He looks so familiar, but from where have I seen him before?"

"Of course from what I hear you're nothing more than a squib so it would make no difference to you would it."

Neville sneared right back at the boy and hermione was surprised and how alien it seemed on the kind boys face. "Did you want something Malfoy, or did you just come to piss people off?"

The boy Hermione now knew as a Malfoy, no first name yet, leaned against the door frame, "Hmph, as If I would lower myself like that." He inspected his fingernails for a moment, "No, I came by looking for Potter but it's obvious now that someone like him wouldn't associate himself with rabble like you."

Neville snorted in disgust, "And you think he would hang out with the likes of y-"

Hermione snapped her fingers, cutting Neville off andsat up. She turned and smiled at Malfoy, still no first name yet, "Now I remember who you remind me of," she turned to Neville. "Mr. Longbottom!" She said with exagerated outrage, "Why didnt you tell me we had such a fine example of inbreeding with us!" She exclaimed, not noticing how instantly tense the compartments atmosphere had become, "His father is Lucius Malfoy right?"

Neville just gapped at her, "Um- Uh yeah," he swallowed, "thats right."

Hermione turned back to looking at the Malfoy, rubbing her chin in thought. "Well he certainly doenst look deformed so maybe it affects other things," her eyes drifted downward and she shuddered. Hermione turned back to Neville and put a hand in front of her mouth, "Maybe it affected his wand instead," she stage whispered. "If you know what I mean."

Neville still just gaped at her, unable to believe Hermione had actually said what she had. Sure, it was something of an open secret and common knowledge to some degree; that there was some bad inbreeding among the purebloods. But to actually say it infront of one of said purebloods was just too much, it just wasn't done.

"You! YOU STUPID MUDBLOOD BINT!"

Hermione turned to the boy in the doorway who was rapidly turning from pale white to a deep red. She frowned at him like he was simple, although she didn't doubt he was; "I will have you know my blood is not made of mud, I am sure it is just as red as yours." She told him calmly, although that seemed to only make him redder. "And quite frankly I am insulted you would refer to me as a female dog, I am quite sure I do not a have a tail nor do I have multiple teat's."

"Anything from the trolley dears?"

Everyones eyes and heads snapped to the right of the doorway where a little lady pushing a cart of snacks stood.

Malfoy, just sneered at the little lady before snatching a red box from the cart and stormed off.

The womans eyes followed the young boy as he stomped down the corridor before she turned and smiled at the two in the compartment. "Anything from the trolley for you dears?"

Neville smiled back at the woman and dug a hand into his robes pocket to pull out a few golden galleons. He stood and handed the her the coins, "A few of everything ma'am."

The woman bustled around the cart for a minute, grabbing several things of everything before handing off what came to be an armload to Neville. "Here you are deary, dont be eating it all in one sitting now." She turned to Hermione, "How about you miss?"

Hermione shook her head, "No thank you ma'am, no sweets for me."

The woman smiled and nodded, "That's just fine deary." She turned to Neville, "You better take care not to cause trouble on this trip young man."

Neville nodded, "Yes Mrs. Binstead."

She tossed a chocolate frog into his lap, "Good boy." She turned and started pushing her cart away but stopped and stuck her head back into the doorway, "And I had better not be hearing anything from Augusta about you getting into trouble up at school or ill be box your ears in!"

With that final word the door slammed shut and locked.

Hermione turned to Neville, "You known her I take it."

He smiled and bit into a chocolate frog, he chewed for a minute. "Hehe," he chuckled. "Yeah, you could say that. She was my sitter up till last summer, she's great friends with my gran." He grimaced slightly and nervously eyed the door, "For reasons you could guess." Neville finished off the chocolate frog and reached for a box on the floor, "I comeletly forgot didnt I." He picked up the box with a grin, "I never showed you Trevor did I, he's a toad my uncle Algie gave me." He opened the lid and showed its contents to hermione.

Hermione frowned and looked at the moss filled box, "Um, Neville, Trevor's not really little is he?"

Neville's expression dropped, "No, he's not." He squeezed his eyes together, "Please don't tell me." Neville tipped the box back to look inside and slumped, "Oh not again!"

* * *

Boy-Who-Lived comes of age!

By Seara Itkee

The time many of us has long waited for has come.

As of this last week the boy-who-lived has become of age to begin his magical education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I dont know about you readers but I cannot wait to discover what house he shall be sorted into. Will it be Gryffindor, the house of the brave and courageous, or perhaps Hufflepuff the house of the loyal. Or maybe he will make his nest in Ravenclaw, the house of the studious but lets not forget about Slytherin, the house of the cunning. We dont know yet but this reporter just can't wait to know more about Harry Potter. A boy who has not been seen since an undisclosed Mediwitch helped Lily Potter, R.I.P., to bring him into the world and Albus Dumbledore. The man who rescued him as an babe from the ruins of the Potters secret home in Godrics Hollow. However despite repeated requests for solid information about the Boy-Who-Lived we still know very little about our savior. But with any hope our questions will soon be answered.

Until we have more information, this is Seara Itkee, out to bring you the truth.

* * *

**September 1st,**

**Great Britain,**

**Hogwarts,**

**Boat Docks**

With a soft bump the small boat secured itself into one of a dozen docks in a cavern beneath the castle that was hidden behind a wall of hanging vines. There were few things that had yet to truly impress Hermione about the Magical World, but the ride across the lake and the view of the castle would certainly be one such thing. As the first years little boats had moved in formation across the lake, the castle of Hogwarts had loomed high overhead, illuminating their way. Hermione figured it must have been a sort of initiation thing though as it seemed somewhat impractical, but then again there had been a lot of things she had seen since entering the Magical World that were like that.

Hermione was snapped out of her contemplation though by the the bellowing from the man she had some to think of as a moving mountain. He seemed kind enough, a veritable gentle giant and had introduced himself as Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the keys and Grounds; whatever that was. He wore what looked like a handsewn leather overcoat and had a beard larger than some shrubbery in her front yard, "Any one ah you's bunch lose a toad?"

Hermione looked at his massive outstretched hand and there held gently, but firmly, was a toad that looked an awful lot like the one Neville had described; it was doing its very best to wiggle and squirm its way to freedom.

"Trevor!" Nevill exclaimed and hurried forward to claim the toad. After the confrontation with the Malfoy boy they had looked but hadn't been able to find the thing on the train. So how the bloody hell had it gotten over here. Did the damnable thing ride with them in the boat across the lake?

"Ere ya go, keep a good grip on him boy. Tricky one that one is, I can tell," Hagrid said jovially. Before he turned to lead the group up a stone staircase in the rear of the cavern and into the castle proper.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

Hermione turned to Neville as the last of the Hogwarts House Ghosts flew away. "So I was wondering, how is the sorting supposed to work. I don't think I asked on the train," she inquired to Neville.

He shrugged, "Dunno, I asked but Gran never told me. Its supposed to be a tradition or something."

Hermione was going to ask him more but she couldn't help but overhear a pair of girls behind her arguing.

"But Daily prophet said that he would be attending this year, why would they lie about something like that!" Hermione heard one of them exclaim.

Hermione turned around, to see an tanned and black haired Indian girl with a ponytail arguing with another girl who looked identical her. 'Must be Twins,' she mused, 'double trouble'.

One of the twins shook her head, causing her ponytail to wave about a bit, "But the Prophet didn't say that though, the articles just said that he was turning eleven and was expected to show up this year," the twin twin to the left argued back to the one on the right

.

Her curiosity getting the better of her common sense and politeness, hermione slowly edged herself closer to the sisters to hear more but a certain, no-first-name, interrupted the pair.

Malfoy strutted forward with two young men who looked every bit the argument against inbreeding, bigger than the rest of their year they likely were but their expressions just screamed simple. "Hmph, the reason your so called hero isn't here is because he likely ran away from embarrassment of being proven to be a fraud." He stuck his nose high in a pose that would have looked good if he was tall, except that he wasn't and it just made him look ridiculous. "There was simply no way a toddler could have defeated the Dark Lord, my father told me it was likely Dumbledore who used some obscure Dark ritual and used the Potters as sacrifices." He sniffed disjointly and held his head higher, "I even heard the old man didn't succeeded, that the dark lord is just biding his time. Growing even more powerful than before so he can wipe out all the mudbloods and impure in one fell swoop." At this he made a glared at Hermione and Neville.

Hermione bristled, and failed to comprehend how such a boy so young could be such a bigot and a racist.

Malfoy crossed his arms and smirked, looking particularly proud of himself for imposing the great piece of bigoted wisdom as he had. Although he also seemed to ignore the fact that over half the faces in the crowd were glaring hateful daggers at him. He was lucky that looks couldn't kill otherwise he would be dead many times over right then.

Hermione was about to prepare a comeback that would bring him up short and embarrass him but decided not to bother when she looked behind the boy. She put her hand to her mouth and tried to suppress a giggle, she failed.

The boys eyes locked on her, bright blue things that didn't look right on a face that was contorting into a vicious sneer. He opened his mouth, likely to insult her, but was cut off by an older adult womans voice.

"Is that so Mr. Malfoy, perhaps you would like to share this information with the DMLE. I am sure there are some people at the ministry that would be very interested in what you have to say. Much more than these fellow students I am sure."

Malfoy visibly paled further than one would think his pale skin would allow, turning his skin an almost translucent milky color. He turned to see Minerva Mcgonagall descending the steps behind him, lips in a thin smile. It wasn't a nice smile she had thought, it was the kind one would have when you finally saw a particularly irritating mosquito smashed, dead on the ground.

He scowled at the elder woman, "How dare you threaten me! When my father hears about this-"

"Oh by all means Mr. Malfoy, I am sure he would be very interested in what you have to say as well. Forewarned is better prepared after all."

Behind him several people snickered at him for being caught with his foot in his mouth.

"Now if that is all," Professor Mcgonagall asked, her tone saying saying what she didn't as she cast her gaze across the assembled group. "All right then, get together, single file all of you."

After examining the line and correcting a few students robes and hair she led them through a short corridor and up a flight of stairs to a pair of double doors that swung open as they approached.

Hermione looked around the great, cavernous room and was in awe for only the third time since being brought into the magical world. The first time had been seeing Diagon alley, before she looked closely at the little details of course. The second had been only minutes ago when she had gotten her first sight of the castle all lit up as she had crossed the lake. In consideration though that was probably one of the points to the boat crossing, to instil awe in the new, young and impressionable students. Hermione didn't really care though, it had worked.

Right then though she could honestly say would be the third time, the shear grand vastness of the hall was amazing. However when she looked up the ceiling became what drew her attention. She had read about it in A, Hogwarts History, an enchanted ceiling that showed the outside weather in real time as well as providing light during the day. It was one thing to read about it but another thing entirely to see it first hand.

Something was bothering her though, nagging at the back of her mind. It was as she was walking toward the front of the hall that she realized it. The hall was just too big for the amount of people it held; it was difficult to notice at first but there was a lot of empty space along the tables, much more than would account for the group she was in. Hermione shook her head, it was no big matter, she would just have to add it to her list, what was one more odd thing about the wizarding world. A big thing she had noticed when she had red A, Hogwarts History that really bothered her was the complete absence of anything relating to how new students were sorted into their individual houses. A not so minor, detail like that shouldn't have been missing, unless of course it was deliberately removed from the books. It was the only thing that would explain its absence, but why?

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

Hermione stared into space in shock and surprise, not really comprehending what she had just seen and heard; the pure ridiculousness of it. 'A hat, a bloody hat does the sorting, sure it's intelligent but still, a hat,' she thought 'and a singing hat at that.'

"Abbott, Hannah." Professor Mcgonagall called, a short blonde girl stepped out of the line. Quickly the girl made her way forward to sit on the stool Professor Mcgonagall had brought the Sorting Hat out on.

The Professor set the hat on the young girls head and not thirty seconds later the hat announced, in a surprisingly loud voice. "Hufflepuff!"

'Although from its song it did make sense to use a hat,' Hermione mused, 'it could be used easily by just about everyone as it looked like all it needed was a touch contact to work.' She snorted, 'So unless your head was the shape of a square , the hat was likely to work on anyone.'

"Bones, Susan please step forward"

So names were called, person by person, sorting by sorting until it was her turn. Trying to keep her composure as best she could Hermione sat on the stool and the thick brim of the hat was dropped in front of her eyes.

'Ohh, A smart on you are, interesting things you will do, oh yes,' the gruff voice of the hat whispered

It took her a few seconds to realize what what was wrong about the situation, her eyes widened in shock, 'I didnt hear it talk with my ears! It was in my-.'

'Mind,' the hat interjected. 'Oh relax girly, you haven't done anything I haven't seen before, I'm almost a thousand years young,' it told her. 'A've seen it all and you arent even near the top ten, so stop thinkin about setting me on fire.'

Hermione bit her lip lightly at its accusing tone and tried to hide her thoughts from the hat.

The hat made some noise that sounded like chuckling, 'Oh, you, really, are a quick one arent you. Intelligent, quick witted, studious, the quintessential Ravenclaw.' The hat stopped as if examining something, 'Ah, but that's not who you really are or what you want; is it Hermione Jean Granger?'

'If you're in my mind you already know the answer to your own question,' she retorted in irritation.

'Yes, yes, that is true, but that's too easy, a cop out if the phrase is correct. If you want to go where you want then explain girl, convince me,' the hat said.

'Why?' Hermione inquired, 'Why won't you just sort me, isnt that your job, your purpose? What you were made for.'

The hat seemed to rumble and Hermione realised it was chuckling. 'Hmm, all good points girl, but i'll have you know I can sit here for the seven years without sorting you, its what I do most of the year anyway, so no personal loss on my behalf. Sure the old goat buggerer would get a bit irritable but it would be no scuff off my brim.'

It took her some time comprehend what it had said before she capitulated, 'Fine, there are parts of me that... I dont like. I need something else than just trying to get the best score in class.'

'Now was that too hard girly, congratulations on your first step,' the hat said to her. 'Now, enjoy your time in,' "Gryffindor!"

As soon as it announced her house Professor Mcgonagall pulled the Hat from her head and she walked toward the gryffindor table with a warmth in her stomach that raised her spirits. That ratty old Hat was right, her first step wasn't hard at all, so she just kept putting one foot forward as she fast walked to an open spot at the gryffindor table.

Her sorting was most definitely memorable to her that night but If anything made it better it was when Professor Mcgonagall accidentally snubbed the blond ponce Malfoy, at the end of the sorting.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

Earlier that night During the Sorting

At least a solid minute had gone by since Zabini Blaise, an olive skinned boy whose name indicated a Italian Heritage had been sorted into the slytherin house. Normally the sorting would be over then as Z was the last letter of the alphabet he should have been the last student to be sorted, but he was not. There was just one more, the pompous pretty boy Malfoy that had made a scene on the train and while the other first years were waiting for Professor Mcgonagall.

Hermione had set aside questioning her new roommates about the castle and instead settled for watching the nights improv entertainment. she smiled as the boys face turned an interesting shade of Hot Pink. It seemed he didn't like being the center of attention when he wasn't the one in command of the situation, in situations like this however his true colors, literally, seemed to show.

By the time Mcgonigal had called him forward several people around the hall were silently laughing and at least one hundred percent of the student body was staring at him.

"Hmm, I am sorry Mr. Malfoy," Professor Mcgonagall said as she stepped away from the headmasters side. "It seemed that we had a mistake on the student listings please come forward to be sorted."

The embarrassed humiliated boy practically ran to the stool and hardly a hair on his head had touched the hat when it had loudly proclaimed, his house placement.

"Slytherin!" The Hat had, had quite peculiar expression on its face right afterward. That is If folds of leather could count as a face, but the expression was of disgusted. Hermione likened it to the expression one would make when they stepped in dog awful.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

Hermione's eyes jerked at her beds curtains, "I swear, if they don't stop talking about Harry Bloody Potter one of them is going through the window before night's end." For a brief moment awkward silence Hermione thought she may have said that a bit too loud. Unfortunately not thirty seconds later they started up again, jabbering incessantly away with intermittent shrieks and high pitched giggles.

Her happy feeling in her belly she'd had from her sorting had faded when she found that the girls she shared her dorm with had little in common with her. Hermione had tried to stay involved in their conversation about Harry Potter, really, but after listening the exploits of what was obviously a fictional character she had given up and retreated to her bed. Honestly, a five year old slaying a dragon by spanking it?

Hidden behind her curtains she grimaced slightly as she turned the page of her advanced charms book a little roughly. She Just had to find something that would let her get some peace and quiet. The girls with whom she shared her dorm, as well as much of the school, had been talking about Harry Potter all night long and it had just become too repetitive to bother with.

Sure The-Boy-Who-Lived was probably one of the biggest questions on her list but she wanted facts not gossip or hearsay. He was supposed to be coming to this year supposedly but he had been a no show, just like the rest of his life after he had gained his fame. Supposedly Albus Dumbledore, the school headmaster had known where he was but he hadn't looked to happy about the turn of events, although why he would know she had no clue.

So Hermione had taken a swing in the dark and guess that he, or likely anyone, actually knew, where their Supposed Savior was. He had just vanished as far as everyone who was concerned knew. Turning to the next page, making sure to be gentle about it this time, she thankfully found a spell that would do what she wanted, 'Kósmo ti̱s sio̱pí̱s, literal translation the world of silence.'

Quickly she skimmed the text for a description and wand motions, 'Creates a bubble around the vicinity of the caster that blocks external sounds of certain volumes.' Hermione reached through her curtains and grabbed her wand from its place on the nightstand. 'To perform kósmo ti̱s sio̱pí̱s one must perform, Three counter clockwise circles with a single downward stroke along the begining edge. While speaking the incantation in conjunction with each circle.'

Holding her wand high she practiced the motions while murmuring the incantation.

After a minute or so of practicing she attempted the spell, "Kósmo ti̱s sio̱pí̱s," and for an instant of silence she thought it had worked until a shrill laugh from outside her curtains broke the spell and sent her ears ringing and her head rushing.

Somehow, her eyes were drawn to the exact passage detailing and warning about this very situation. Unfortunately she had skimmed over in her rush, 'If the wand motion and vocal incantation are not in correct synchronicity the spell can collapse on itself resulting in a sensation comparable to apparating to a higher altitude, with the possibility of ruptured eardrums.' Hermione worriedly touched at her ears to check if they were bleeding but relaxed when they weren't, 'Bloody Hell, i'm an idiot.'

On the upside at least she couldn't hear the obnoxious giggling from her dorm mates anymore, the incessant ringing in her ears had taken care of that. 'This is what you get Hermione for doing things outside your level,' she thought to herself. 'Forget it,' deciding to leave her hearing as it was she decided to just go to sleep, she just had a few things to do before hand.

Crawling to the foot of her bed she leaned out through the privacy curtain and flipped open her trunk to grab a thin spiral notebook and the evil red mechanical alarm clock her mum had handed down to her before she left for kings cross.

Gently winding the Big Ben ash her mum had shown her she set it on her head board before she flipped open the notebook and slid a pen out of the binding. Her list, the big copy at any rate, a list of everything odd, off and anything that caught her attention since she had entered the magical side of Britain. Tracking her pen down the list she was able to cross out several subjects that she had discussed with Neville about. After that though she flipped to a fresh page and began adding to the list, the first new question, Where Was Harry Potter?

* * *

**September 1st,**

**Great Britain,**

**Hogwarts,**

**Severus Snape's Quarters**

Severus Snape took a more than modest drought from a glass tumbler full of a foggy red liquor. Normally, he didn't bother enough to drink from his personal brew on the first night of the school year, but damned if he didn't want it so he would drink what he wanted. This year had supposed to have been the year Lil's child was to come to hogwarts. Almost certainly he had been expecting an arrogant braggart like the childs sperm donor, he'd even had his scathing remarks picked out. He had also been expecting a young prodigy like lily had been and picked out his subtle compliments if that was the case. One thing he knew for certain that he had been expecting was to be haunted by lily's eyes staring at him, day after day, for seven years. He hadn't known what he was expecting, but he certainly hadn't been expecting for the boy to never show up.

It had been the whispering buzz of the great hall during the feast and would likely be the gossiping buzz of all Magical Great Britain by tomorrow morning. Severus threw back the two fingers and refilled his glass, bringing the bottle down to the half empty mark.

Pressured by the other teachers and unconfirmed information gathered from an incoherant and drunk Hagrid, Albus had been forced to act so e ordered everyone to the teachers lounge after getting their first year students situated.

The meeting hadn't gone well to say the least, at the beginning it had started fine sure, but then the old bugger confirmed Hagrid's tale. That the boy had been bludgeoned into unconsciousness by his uncle and dumped into a rowboat, that had later been swept out to sea in the storm. It was right after he confirmed that little tidbit that that things had gotten a bit more hectic.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

"YE BIDDERIN ASS! I told yae thay were thae wurst sert a muggles, bet ded ya lestin? NAE!"

The rest of the staff was quiet and still, sure most of the people at the table had heard Minerva slip into her scottish tongue when she was irritated or angry once or twice. But that had been gradual, it had a build up that peaked for a moment where you couldn't even understand her then she settled. None of them had experienced an eruption like what they were seeing before them.

The Transfiguration Mistress had entered a rage that would have made her houses namesake mere seconds after she heard what happened to her former students child from the proverbial horse's mouth. Immediately she had begun ripping into him at a speed and ferocity that had the other teachers in the room frozen, likely not from shock but from self preservation and not wishing to draw her wrath.

Surreptitiously he drew his wand from his sleeve and silently cast his Muffliato around himself and Pomona. He had designed the spell to keep people who outside the spell from noticing what was going on within it but at this close range he had no desire to risk it. "Pomona, you don't suppose you could prepare a fresh kit ahead of schedule?" He asked.

The Herbology professor fliched her eyes over to look at him but didn't move her head. "Sure," She whispered, "it shouldn't be a problem, but you're bumping my percentage up to twenty five percent for the year."

The sudden bang of a fist punching the table snapped there attention back to a scene that could be likened to a Dragon and a villages sacrificial Goat, already he could only understand half of what Minerva was saying.

"Make it thirty percent," Pomona grumbled, unwilling to draw attention in anyway.

Severus considered it, for only a moment though, "Agreed, I'll drop off the bottles on sunday."

Sure it was gouging for only slightly uncommon potion ingredients but better to make a deal now than later when he was asking for more. Discreetly, he observed the other staff at the table, judging from their expressions he had no doubt that minerva would be getting a fair bit more respect. 'Wait a moment, bloody hell!' He yelled internally, his eyes narrowed on Flitwick's form. The little half goblin was partially transparent and was fuzzy around the edges, the blasted midget must have swapped himself out with an illusion. Likely sometime at the beginning of Minerva's tirade. Severus wanted to sigh, but he couldn't do that, not now at least. He had no desire to test the dragons wrath and it only looked like she was getting into the full swing. The urge to sigh was even greater, why couldn't he be three feet tall too.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

Severus threw back his fifth glass for the night, being stranded at sea was possibly one of the worst things to happen to someone in his opinion. It was worse for Wizard's & Witch's especially, most, barring the most powerful, would be unable to apparate, most of their magic would be unavailable as well. Deprived of something that they had used as a crutch all there lives a wizard or witch could quickly become desperate and make rash decisions, decisions that could kill them.

The worlds oceans were somewhat of a deadzone for magicals and most tended to avoid the ocean all together. It was when the sea floor reached deep enough that magic just started to get more and more difficult to perform. Apparation and generally any form of scrying was ineffective, there was likely a calculable reason for why this happened but it just hadn't been his field of expertise. He'd had no desire to look up something like this before, until now.

To add to his problems though was his idiot of a godson, how lucius had screwed that boy up so badly he would never know. But for some reason the fool boy had decided to foretell the Dark Lord's return, right in front of Minerva. He shook his head, that woman had a well hidden vindictive streak that she rarely showed. But if her performance during the Sorting ceremony was any indication and how she had it so well planned for the short amount of time she had been given, it was a mile long. The setup was crude yes, and obvious, but it had been blunt to send the point across. Severus just wondered if his godson would even understand that you do not cross Minerva Mcgonagall.

Severus considered refilling and emptying his glass a few more times but reconsidered it, he stoppered the bottle and got up to put it away. The problem with doing that was opening the false stone wall to his personal brewing chambers took bit of concentration that he really just didn't have at the moment. So he just set the bottle next to a jar of Dried Spring leaf and gradually made way to his bed chamber.

He glanced to the bare left hand wall of magically reinforced glass, never before was the wall that showed the lake depths more ominous to him as he slipped into bed. Before he had the presence of mind to fall asleep though he retrieved a vial of Hangover potion from his bedside drawer and set it in an empty vial rack for easy access in the morning. His last waking thoughts as he stared out into the depths of the black lake was to wonder where Lil's child was, if he was even alive or not..

* * *

**September 2nd,**

**Great Britain,**

**Hogwarts,**

**Gryffindor Girls Dorms**

In the not too wee early hours on the morning of September Second a shrill ringing woke the inhabitants of the first years girls dormitory of gryffindor tower. To the girl the alarm clock belonged to it wasn't to much of a wake up shock and she just curled deeper into her comforter, to the other inhabitants of the dorm it was like having a bucket of cold water dumped on them.

For People who hadn't been raised in the muggle world, an alarm clock on the caliber of Hermione's was almost painful as shocking as being zapped with an electic spell. Sure the wizarding world had spells and devices that would facilitate the users waking at a at time but those were usually gentle and subtle in the way they did it, the spells and devices simply made them wake up. The Big Ben alarm clock on the other hand was made to shock the person who used it, awake. It in comparison was about as subtle as a sledgehammer to the head.

So as a result the girls first years dorm was soon filled with irritated and grumpy girls who weren't used to being woken up in such a fashion. They were so bad off from the experience they were in worse shape than the girl who used it, one Hermione Granger.

With only minimal forewarning the other girls of her dorm ripped open her curtains to glower down at the sleeping because of their problems.

Looking rather irritable and dishevelled Lavender grabbed the alarm clock off the headboard and after a moment examining it was able to deactivate the device.

A hand nudged her aside, "Blimey, how could she sleep through that racket," Parvati said as she looked down at the bundle that was hermione and sipped from the glass of water she was holding.

Lavender wanted to glare at the girl of indian descent for being so well composed in the morning but she was struck with sudden inspiration and righteous vindictiveness that she snatched the glass of water from Parvati's hand. Upending it on the barely exposed and peacefully sleeping face of Hermione Granger, who had somehow slept through the cacophony next to her head.

She didn't stay sleeping though and in an instant she had woken up and was twisting about in a panic. So much so that she got tangled up in her sheets and fell off her bed, landing with a hard thump, bump and a groan.

Lavender handed her cup back to Parvati. "Thank you," she said and went back to her bed, leaving Parvati there holding the proverbial bag.

"Are you okay Hermione, uh it is Hermione right?" Parvati asked nervously, she never had been too good with names.

A sort of gurgling moan from the girls head was the only response, at least Parvati guessed it was her head, judging from a few wet strands of long curly hair that were sticking out.

"Well you had better get to the lou before the others so you can clean up, the tour is in an hour and it looks like you messed up Lavenders beauty sleep.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

By the time the girls had made it down to the common room just over an hour later a pair of boys with prefect badges pinned to their sweaters that were knitted with the letters F & G respectively were waiting for them. And off to the side lounging in the armchairs were the first year boys, all ready and waiting for them.

"Well don't you just look adorable, just a bunch of sleeping beauties," the prefect on the left said with a grin.

"Yeah a bunch of sleeping beauties," the prefect on the right said with a matching grin.

"Oh," the one on the left said in surprise as he looked around at both groups. "But what about Ickle Ronniekins, would it not behoove us to wake our sibling?" He asked of the one on the right.

The one on the right scanned there assembled group for a few seconds, then let out an exaggerated gasp of surprise. "Oh indeed you are correct George, but no; I do not believe we shall wait for the great snoring one, he shall learn humility via public embarrassment."

The prefect on the left stroked an imaginary beard and squinted his eyes in thought. "Hm, yes, I do believe that is a worthy plan of pursuing," he turned and waved over the boys. "Ey midgets, get over here." Then when they had all grouped up he addressed the assembled first years. "To provide context for you I, your handsome prefect shall graciously explain. You see our brother is quite thick, it takes a lot to for him to learn a lesson and over the years we have found that humiliation and embarrassment usually works the best."

"Or spiders," the one on the left added in a stage whisper, like it was some great secret that he had bestowed on them.

"Or spiders, lots and lots of spiders," the right one finished. He cupped his chin an exaggerated thought pose again. "Or one really big spider."

Hermione frowned, she may have still been a bit out of sorts from her abrupt and rough wake up but she was sure there had been a female prefect. Sure these two had the badges but they just didn't look quite right, maybe it was the mischievous expression they wore. But o, that wasn't right, the expression that both of them wore were identical, twins, double trouble. Ugh, she must still have been partially asleep still for not noticing it right off.

"Fred! George! Bring back my, GhAAa, GEORGE!" From behind the group, echoing down the boys dormitory stairs a cry of rage and frustration echoed

.

"Oh dear, brother Gred it appears Percy the Perfect Prefect is indisposed for the moment," the left twin said.

"Hmm, yes, it appears he is brother Feorge, that just leaves it up to us to show these young, impressionable, firsties how to navigate this treacherous castle," the right twin said.

At this both of there grin widened to, what big teeth you have, proportions.

"GhAAAaa, FRED!" Another rage filled cry from up the stairs carried down, followed by a thump.

"Aright, aright, come along then young firsties, lets get a move on before that triangle escapes," the twin on the left said as he began herding the group out of the common room.

Once out in the hall one of the twins addressed them Hermione wasn't sure which, "Now listen closely firsties, I will be your guide for today, my name is Fred and my slightly less handsome companion is George. He will be providing commentary as we pass thorugh and by areas of importance."

The indicated George elbowed him in the ribs, "Brother, I thought we agreed I was going to be Fred and you would be George."

Fred, at least the one being addressed as Fred appeared to seriously consider this for a bit as he began leading them down the hall. "Indeed you are correct brother, besides the commentator must be the pretty one."

"Rightly so brother George," the brother that had formerly been George said.

"Now follow along firsties, there is much to show but little time to see. Our first stop for this tour shall be the Slide of Seven Floors, a most useful transportation method when quickness is required to reach the ground floor or to escape undeserved punishment."

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

"Now if you would look to our left you will see the entrance to The Treacherous Dungeon. Down in it's treatcherous depths is a nasty snake pit with the unbeatable, Greasyus Bat Boss. The Potions room is down there as well. But be warned," George said in an ominous tone with wiggling fingers as emphasis. "When venturing into its lair the Greasyus Bat likes to hide and watch to snatch up firsties for his potions."

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

"And on the right is the home of Moping, Moaning Myrtle, a ghost with a wicked temper tantrum. As a fair warning to you ladies, if you have to go, keep walking otherwise you'll end up soaking in things you don't want to know about," George said.

From the front she saw Fred shudder, "Things you really don't want to know about."

"Although it is an excellent place for privacy in a pinch," George said.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

"If you look down the left hand corridor you can see the doors to the Fortress of Solitude and Silence, better known as the hogwarts library. A most excellent place to answer all your magical queries and more," George said with an disturbingly ominous flare.

"And Down the right hand corridor you can find the entrance to entrance to the clocktower, an excellent place to relax."

"If you don't mind the noise," Fred interjected.

"Yes, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, an excellent place to relax away from the usual noise of the castle," George finished. "Though you will need to know the unlocking charm, our dear caretaker locks it from time to time, something about being out of bounds or some hogwash."

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

"Careful on the steps here, on the third and fourth floor stairs there's a trick step, it comes and goes as it pleases. You can't fall off the stairs, there are spells against it. But it can be a nasty tumble and one that can be awfully embarrassing," Fred warned.

"And when you get the chance to explore a bit there is a secret passage on this floor that leads to the kitchens, theres a galleon in it for the first person to find it, George said."

"But a sickle charge if you get it wrong," Fred finished"

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

"For the fifth floor there is!" Fred exclaimed as he jumped in place.

"Not much," George deadpanned. "Just some empty classrooms, a Boys Lou and-"

Fred suddenly whispering in his ear cut him off and he paled, "Ah, and unfortunately it appears that that's it for Feorge and Gred's Fantastical Tour of Hogwarts, please, have a pleasant day and dont forget to tip."

Without warning they began sprinting down the the corridor, managing to turn the corner just as Professor Mcgonagall came huffing around the left hand corridor. "Those boys," she said and let out a huff, she turned to eye the crowd of first year students. "Well follow me, the prefects have been looking all over for all you. Those boys, stealing prefect badges," the Transfiguration professor ranted to herself.

As they reached the seventh floor she made an about face and eyed the group critically.

"Well, how did the Missers Weasley do with their tour. Hmm." She eyed her students, "Well, how did they do, did they show you where your classrooms will be or did they just lead you around by the rings in your noses." She asked with a snap in her voice.

"Uh, ye-yes ma'am," a young boy stammered. "They showed us where our classes would be, the lou's, even some hidden passageways that make getting around easier."

Professor Mcgonagall's expression turned from irritation to surprise and the teacher focused on Her. "Ms. Granger, is this true, they showed you some of the hidden passages," she queried.

"It's true ma'am, the best one was a slide that took us to the ground floor," she bit her lip.

"They may have embellished a little bit though, things they called the Greasyus Bat, and the Ghoulus Filich."

Professor Mcgonagall's expression couldn't be mistaken for amused, maybe irritated or irked would be could terms. Without asking anything else of the group she escorted them back to the portrait of the Fat Lady before departing, likely in search of Feorge & Gred.

* * *

**Date Unknown,**

**Location Unknown**

What woke him wasn't the glaring sunlight, it wasn't the rocking of the boat nor was it the smell of bird poop, not even his own body odor. It wasn't the things most would attribute to being lost at sea like thirst or hunger. No, instead it was the sensation of someone was pushing an electrically charged nail into the side of his neck.

Harry jerked up and looked at the spot he had been laying in, no nails but that oh so lovely nail sensation came flared up again as soon he'd turned his head. He raised his shoulder in an crude imitation of Igor and the pain subsided to a dull twinge. Sadly this kind of thing wasn't anything new to him, sleeping in the small space provided to him for so many years had given him plenty of experience with cramps of all kinds.

Harry rubbed his stomach lightly as it gurgled and growled. Fortunately or unfortunately, he wasn't really sure which was worse, hunger hadn't wasn't anything new either. Carefully as he could, harry pulled off his overlarge shirt and shorts and laid them back out on the spot under the tarp he was sleeping in. He had had his been using his clothes as a padding but when a chill had swept over the ocean the night before he had grudgingly put them on for what little warmth they could provide. Patting it down to smooth the makeshift bed out he gently lowered himself down, positioning himself so his shoulder was higher than his neck and after an indeterminable period of time he fell back asleep.

* * *

**September 2nd,**

**Location Unknown**

Nicholas Flamel just stared at the headline for a while, thinking, just thinking. 'How in the seven hells could the man be so stupid, involving the goblins in his plans.' Whether he involved them in his plans or not wasn't the matter. With that backwater in the state it was there could have been bodies piled in the street, had the Goblin leadership taken the offense of being stolen from as a personal affront. It was only luckily the fraud had removed the bait beforehand.

'That blasted Fraud was lucky to have moved the bait to hogwarts, if the Gringotts Management had thought he was using one of their vaults as a trap, even if it was temporary', he sucked air through his teeth in frustration at that man's antics. Flame sighed, he folded the paper and set it with the others he received from across the magical world. He took a sip of wine from the glass at his side table and picked up the next paper in the stack, this one from the Emirates.

* * *

**Date Unknown,**

**Location Unknown**

Groggily and warily Harry opened his eyes, it was dark out, no sun, that meant night time. Crawling out from under his shelter he sat on a wooden seat and just stared out at the vast blackness around him that stretched endlessly. Through that wasn't quite true, It wasn't all black, scattered across the horizon were small lights of red and green. "Boxing day lights," he mused to himself. Those weren't the only lights though, he leaned his head back and just stared up. Without the neighborhood lights to block them out like in surrey he could see all of them, the stars. Hundreds, Thousands, Millions, they were uncountable, it was beautiful. From the right of where he was looking a series of tiny streaks scored lines across the sky, a meteor shower.

Shifting so he could lie down on the seat he hung his feet over the edge of the boat. Idly he wondered where had they come from, how far had they traveled. 'Or were they like him,' he thought, 'just drifting until they found someplace new.'

"Hmm, I think you're supposed to wish upon a shooting star," he asked himself. "Well theres three so I guess that means three wishes." Harry knew talking out loud while alone, in the middle of the ocean no less was a bit crazy person ish but who was there to make fun of him for it.

He idley picked at a the bottom of the seat, "Hmm, I wish…. to arrive a fun destination, I wish for peaceful sea's, and uh." Harry thought for a minute, trying to come up a wish until he remembered a saying his third year Primary School history teacher had said. "Yeah, that sounds good, I wish to live in interesting times."

* * *

Translations

{English translation} : {What it is being translated to} : {Translated word or phrase} ( Descriptive)

The World of Silence : Greek : Kósmo ti̱s sio̱pí̱s (A charm that creates a bubble, or globe, of silence around the caster.)

* * *

Authors note 2,

Not much else different than the original. Similar edits to the last chapter, similar mistakes fixed and I expanded Hermione and Nevilles train scenes. I rather am disappointed with myself for not finishing those before.

I also noticed some little bits here and there were simply gone and I have to wonder it that is the uploading process.

KiDz

* * *

(Origional) Authors note,

So that is chapter two of Fakes & Frauds, to be honest this chapter was a bit of a pain. But, I am going to keep to my decided update schedule of an update every two weeks. However, after lagging through this I have decided I will publish 5k minimum chapter on a week basis when they are applicable. I figure this will help to keep me from getting lagged down.

In conclusion, thank you for reading chapter two, Days of Frustration (working title).

KiDz


	3. Chapter Three: Thats Not Flotsam

Disclaimer: The Author of this work of FanFiction does not own any of the copyrighted works used in this work of fiction, inspiration and ideas are drawn consciously ( and sometimes unconsciously) from many places. Including but not limited to TV, Books, Comics, World News, Websites, Politics and many others. This author does not represent the interests or opinions of the original authors of these works.

The primary Authors note for the chapters of this story are located at the end. For those of you (most likely among the majority) who do not read the authors notes either before nor after the bulk of the chapter, this is for you.

Constructive criticism is appreciated and I look forward to it, however if you wish to "Flame" please do so in a clear and concise manner so as I can attempt to fix the problem.

"Character Speaking"

"CHARACTER YELLING"

'Character Thinking'

Character Narration

_Magic/ Spell use_

**Section or Date / Title**

And now, I hope you enjoy this chapter, Of Fakes and Frauds

* * *

**September 2nd,**

**Vicinity of the English Channel,**

**Ret Pill (Straight Arrow),**

**Highest most walkway.**

'Clean air, a the warm morning sun, clear blue skies, a calm breeze', Andor dropped his binoculars and leaned against the railing of what the crew called there crows nest, 'and absolutely nothing to see in sight'. It was better than mopping though so there was that.

He slipped his walkman headphones on and dropped into the metal lawn chair that some other crewmember had bolted to the deck, likely years before he ever saw it, or been born for that matter judging by how thick the paint looked in places. Andor thought it may have been grey, once, however the thing had been painted over so many times it was impossible to tell for certain what it had been originally.

Andor sat forward and lifted his binocs to scan the sea again, this time he struck gold, as the americans would say. He slipped one side of his headphones off an ear and pulled out his assigned walkie talkie from his pocket. "Captain, I think i've got what looks like a forty footer, port side, approximately three hundred meters ahead off the bow's port side, over."

"Give me a sec, over." A minute passed by as the captain scanned the seas. "Confirmed, good eye crewman, Captain out."

Andor pulled out his pen and made a mark on a pad Anton, his starboard side counterpart who sat in a chair much like his, had given him. Damn shipping containers werent to much of a problem to the ships that they fall off of, big blighters as they were. But to much smaller General Cargo Ships like the Ret Pill they could be a disaster waiting to happen. Anton had likened it to a landmine and had showed him photos of incidents where it had happened. So Andor kept a keen eye on the seas as he had no desire to test first hand how well the life rafts operated in the open water.

His radio buzzed and Anton's gravel on wet wood smokers voice came through the speaker, "Good catch rookie, spot another and Ill give you my pudding tonight, over."

'Hmm, extra pudding', "Aye Aye Sir, challenge accepted, over. Shen the mess chief made one incredible rice pudding and would be happy to liberate Antons so he lifted the binoculars again with a renewed focus.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

Andor pushed his parka sleeve back to check his watch with trepidation, his walkman now rested in his pocket having ran out of power over an hour ago and as if to keep him extra alert a chilling breeze had picked up from the north.

Andor sighed, dropping his sleeve; and he still had just under three hours left on his second shift, his second _six hour_, shift. His second shift on the deck because he had volunteered to take the place of his replacement, he would be damned of if he would let Andor keep his pudding after all this effort. He cupped his hands and exhaled onto the goose skin his hands had become. Standing up he began some simple stretches to keep away cramps before going back to his examinations of the ocean.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

Andor shivered and checked his watch again, five more minutes, just five more minutes and he would be inside and out of the cold wind, screw the pudding. The northern breeze had picked up and now it was just plain windy and cold, 'No such thing as windshear my ass.' To make it worse though, the gentle warmth of the sun that had been his companion since the morning was beginning to descend into the horizon. Surprisingly though he had noticed the sea was fairly calm despite the wind, a bit choppy in places sure but nothing the Ret Pill couldn't handle with ease.

Andor brought the binocs up for what was hopefully to be the last time in a while, at least until they were in a nicer climate. He scanned from the foresea to the horizon, looking for any of the hard edges that usually distinguished something inorganic and artificial from the water. Luckily after working this position for the past two shifts he had devised a pattern that seemed to work well for him.

He began in the foreground of his view and from there he would work his way back and forth, progressing until he saw the horizon. It usually took a minute to a minute thirty to finish the scan.

But he was only a third of the way through his devised pattern did he see something that wasn't ocean. Andor focused his binocs a bit to try and make it out, it wasn't a container he was sure of that. 'The hell is this thing, a dead whale,' he wondered. He had seen one of those, smelled it, practically tasted it on the air, this didn't remind him of that at all; wrong shape and no smell.

Andor watched the UFO for a bit while the ship drew closer toward it. He readjusted the focusing dials on the Binocs he was just able to make it out and almost dropped the glasses while he fumbled for the radio. All the while keeping his eyes on what he was sure was a row boat, or what it was more likely to be considering how far out they were, a life raft.

"Helm, come in, over.

"This is the Helm, what do you see anything out there, over"

"Helm I believe i've got a lifeboat four hundred meters ahead portside, over." Andor said as he tried to steady himself with the railing while holding the binocs and the radio to his head.

"Confirm the last crewman, you say you've spotted a life raft, over."

Andor watched it as they drew closer, it definitely wasnt flotsam, "I Believe so sir, it is now approximately two hundred meters out, maybe thirty meters off the port side bow. You should be able to see it from the cabin in thirty seconds sir, over."

He kept his eyes trained on the raft, now that it was closer he could easily make it out now, "Just a moment helm I think I see something, over." Andor watched closely as the raft racked with the ocean and he saw a flash of pale whitish pink. He thumbed the transmit button, "Helm I think I just saw someone, over." Andor waited for the raft to tilt again but it instead rotated and now that he was looking at the raft itself he was sure it was a rowboat. It sure looked a row boat at least, but that didn't mean anything, there had been some bad weather around the channel several days before they had passed through, for all they knew some poor idiot had gotten pulled out in the tide. Or it could be something that broke loose from its mooring, no matter it was a vessels maritime responsibility to come to the aid of those at sea, the good Karma gained from such an action wouldn't be amiss either.

His radio squaked a bit before it cleared, "firmed, I can see it, keep your eyes on it crewman while I bring us in close, I'm sending for Dimitri and Anton to check it out. Volo, go wake the Ca-."

Not 10 seconds after his radio cut he could feel the ship slowing, a minute later he saw Dimitry and Anton jogging out onto the deck, bundles of rope and a hook in hand. Anton leant out over the railing to spot get an eye on the raft, he called something to Dimitri and they began tying together a hook line.

The raft was now maybe eighty meters ahead, the ship slowed a bit more, now being propelled by its forward momentum.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

Five minutes of drifting later the raft was floating off the portside railing and Anton was attempting, for the 6th time, to hook the raft. He tugged the line back and this time felt a strong resistance, he turned and called to his partner. "Dimitri, get your big ass over here and help me pull!"

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

Shouting from Anton drew his attention back to the deck to where they had hooked the raft and were rapidly drawing it in toward the hull. As soon as they had pulled it against the hull Anton threw down a pilot ladder and descended down to inspect what he now easily saw for certainty as a rowboat.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

With a grace that belied his size Dimitry descended the pilot ladder and stepped gently into the raft. Immediately he saw of ratty shoe's hanging from around a wooden seat by tied together laces. But what, drew his attention was the small pinkish and red spotted arm peeking out from under a tarp that covered half the raft. Dimitri crouched and lifted the tarp up to look inside and saw the red, sunburned, body of a boy that the arm led to. Gently as he could he felt the boys wrist, checking for a pulse. The slow but rhythmic thump told him all he needed to know, he called up to Anton before he gripped the tattered edge of the tarp and ripping it off of its ties and picked up the slight, sunburnt, form of the boy.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

Andor's radio came to life, in what he could only assume to be bulgarian as Anton was the one yelling into his radio. Dimitri must have found something interesting because not a moment later he had ripped off the tarp covering half the boat and lifted what appeared to be a small, almost naked, and sunburn red young boy from the raft.

He smiled slightly and lowered the binocs, "Huh, well I do believe this is an even better save than spotting a container," and with that he clicked his pen to made his second mark of the day, it may not have been a container but oh well, that pudding would taste good.

* * *

**September 2nd,**

**Vicinity of the English Channel,**

**Rett Pil (Straight Arrow),**

**Crew Quarters.**

Veno liked his sleep, Veno did not like being woken from his sleep, and as the day navigator he had only just gotten to lay down for a nap at Six Pm. So as a result Veno was a little irritate about the asshole who was shaking his shoulder. This asshole had woken him up? Well as his brothers had learned, that meant he was fair game.

With an exaggerated war cry he leapt from the cot and lifted his pillow high and caught an eyefull of his awakener. Veno blinked wearily, that wasn't Tommy. Tommy was shorter than him, the shortest of the family at five foot even and this guy was way bigger, this definitely wasn't Tommy. Reluctantly he focused at the figure through blurry eyes enough to make him out, "Ah, what the fuck. Dimitry, I just got off my shift, the hell do you want?"

Dimitry just stared incredulously at the little New Yorker that was his fellow crewman. Veno had been a somewhat recent addition to the crew, a kid from America on travel that he and the guys had met in a bar while on leave back in the philippines. Somehow someway in their drunken stupor they had made it back to the ship with one extra crew member, he had only been discovered when Vasili had been called to shift the next morning. But by then they had already left port and well underway. However it had turned out to be good fortune because the foul mouth had been found to be pretty useful once he was sobered up.

"Come," he told Veno and stepped into the corridor. "We require someone with medical experience," he said over his shoulder, he knew Veno would follow he always did when he thought there was something interesting, he was just like that.

When they had found Veno in the philippines the guy had turned out to have been wandering around asia and much of europe for the better part of half a decade. All without getting himself into more trouble than he could handle, an admirable feat that any could recognise. From what he had told them and gradually proven, he had traveled by bartering his skills. The little NewYorker knew a little about everything it seemed, electronics, mechanics, medicine, fixing stuff, a true master of nothing; or jack of all trades as the Americans said.

But he could learn a skill like nobody's business to the degree that he was able to help and work in most any position on the ship. Obviously some of the crew had asked him why he had gone wandering around like he did when he could have been an electrician or mechanic or something other than a glorified vagabond. Veno never really gave a straight answer and he was always fairly vague about his past. But he had told them was that he didn't want to be stuck in a quote, _"Dead end, Nine to Five like some schlub,"_ and after working with him for several months Dimitry could see why. The guy just couldn't sit still and he was always reading about different things or learning about different skills from watching the others and working where needed. So eventually the captain had just designated him a temp to fill in wherever he was needed so some of the other crewmen could do other things.

Dimitry trudged down a ladder to the hold before stopping at a door and turning to Veno, "Andor was out on container watch when ee' spotted a row boat a little bit ago, me and Anton pulled it in," he swung the hold door open and stepped into the cavernous space. He waved a hand indicating the pink and red young boy he had pulled for the boat, "I found him inside." Since the cabins didn't have much in the way of maneuvering space Anton had assembled a cot down in the hold with a chair and table set against some crates.

Veno, seeing the boy went into what the crew had taken to calling his serious mode and began checking the boy over. For upwards five minutes he checked the boy over, taking notes in a little pocket notebook he always kept on his person. He sank into the folding chair and looked over

his notes for what he would need and on a separate page quickly began a list of what he would require. He glanced up at Dimitri from the corner of his eye, "I take it the captain doesn't quite want to involve the coast guard just yet?"

Dimitry nodded his affirmative, "Ee' wanted to wait, to see how bad is' condition was first."

Veno sighed and rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger, "Well tell him he can hold off on making the call, the kids not too bad off all things considered." Creasing the page of he neatly ripped it out and handed it to Dimitry, "Shen and Olof should have most of it."

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

Dimitri closed the hatch to the cargo hold and with an expertise gained from his years at sea, ascending the ladder to the next level of the ship while reading Veno's list. Some of the things though were a bit weird, "The fuck ee' need whole bag a' tatoes for?"

* * *

**September 2nd,**

**Great Britain,**

**Hogwarts,**

**Gryffindor Common Room.**

Hermione had to wonder how old the leather chairs in the common room where, she didnt know but they were just as soft as silk and so, so, comfortable. Not that she had ever felt real silk of course, but this softness is what she imagined it would feel like. It was a bit like the armchair her grandmere had handed down to her mother but that one wasn't nearly as soft and it had seen over fifty years of softening, Hermione had thought _that, _comfortable. So obviously it was in one of these chairs hermione had settled herself into to read for the night and with the warmth from the fire to keep her warm she could just sit here for hours on end.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

When she was stirred from her reading focus it wasn't hours later, probably not even an two. From over her shoulder two identical heads were leaning over to read her book, Irked at the invasion of privacy she snapped the book shut and stared ahead trying to decide what to do.

From her side the heads grinned in unison, it was eerie, like a magician's mirror trick of light.

"Oh dear, brother Fred, it appears the book worm has a bit of a temper," the twin on the left said.

"Indeed she does brother George, indeed she does," the twin on the right said. "But I do believe that charms book was a little advanced for a normal firstie, we'd better watch out, or better yet confiscate it for her own protection."

With exaggerated spins they moved to sit on the the tea table in front of her, "Now what could put her in such a mood brother Fred, could it have been she met-"

"-our, prat of a bother ronniekins," Fred Finished.

Hermione cringed at the mention of the obnoxious ginger, not as bad as the Malfoy boy but still far too full of himself.

Oh that must be it, Perfect Percy is awfully annoying but he could never make someone dislike the weasley kind Ronniekins could." Fred said with a grin at his brother.

"And so quickly at that," George added.

"So what could it be, what could it be?" Fred pondered, taking an exaggerated _thinker _pose.

"Truly could it be that she did the impossible,-"

"-the inconceivable,-"

"-the unprecedented."

"The first gryffindor first year topoints from Snape!"

Hermione head was beginning to ache, there twinspeak as she had heard someone call it was starting to get to her in a bad way.

"But Fred ,why would our prat of brother get upset at someone earning points." George scratched his head, "Unless of course, he thought he was being embarrassed in the process."

"Hmm, yes dear brother George, I do belive that would do it. You know as well as I do that once our dear brother manages to get anything into his thick head about something he can be insufferable."

"So," as one they leaned in and asked, "what happened in the Treacherous Dungeon's that has our prat brother in such a tizzy."

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

**The Treacherous Dungeon's, **

**Potion's classroom, **

**Earlier that day.**

Hermione watched with pen and paper at the ready as Potions Master and Professor Severus Snape stalked between the rows of brewing isles, "To bottle fame and bre glory, put a stopper on death, to trap the mind and ensnare the senses." His head snapped around and he pointed at a student seated ahead of her, "Mr. Weasley, since you seem too, enraptured, or perhaps to knowledgeable to not take notes then perhaps you could tell me, where would I find Wolfsbane."

From her position in the back row Hermione was able to just barely make out the boy gapping cluelessly in response to the Professors rather simple questions, "This idiot must not have even read the book.

"Well ," Professor Snape asked. "Are you going to answer the question. No?" He shook his head and tutted, "Then what about dittany and its uses," he paused to let him answer but was rewarded with silence. "Then how about a Bezoar, a most critical tool of brewing potions in any capable capacity, no again?" He shook his head in mock pity, "A shame, it seems you have want for fame and glory, but are not willing to perform the most basic work to attain it by your own talent."

Hermione watched the Professor in disbelief as he shook his head again in a pitying manner while he ridiculed the boy. Although she had to admit that the he would have known the answers to the professor's questions if he had read the textbook. She was sure that was it as from where she sat she could see the bright red blush of embarrassment creeping up the ginger boys neck and ears. Indicating that this was the case and not just stage fright from being put on the spot. The poor boy's face as likely as crimson as her comforter.

"For your information , a Bezoar can be found in the stomach of a goat, or in the case of this room," with a sweep of his hand he gestured to a door set into the wall. "The supply cabinet. Bezoars can be used to neutralize failed potions, cure most common poisons as well as being a component in several advanced potions. You would be wise to keep one near you in this class if this is to be your normal attitude toward my class . He turned to face the rest of the class, "Now, is there anybody in this room who isn't a dunderhead, that can tell me what the former two are used for."

Hermione raised her hand to answer the question and as the Professor scanned the room he caught her eyes for a moment then continued looking over the room. But seeing no one else willing to volunteer he turned back to her. "Very well, Miss Granger, what can you tell these students about Wolfsbane and Dittany."

Hermione brought her hand down and cleared her throat, "Wolfsbane, also known as Monkshood and officially named Aconite, it is a flower used commonly in potions brewing. However, care must be taken as it can be highly toxic if ingested raw. It is also a key ingredient in the wolfsbane potion. Dittany, is a powerful restorative that can use topically to accelerate skin growth in the area of application or ingested raw to heal minor wounds throughout the body. However, care must be taken when using it in potions and preparing it as the fumes given off by the plant can be highly flammable."

For a moment after she finished the Professor just stared at her, as if seeing something she couldn't. "Hmm, very good , five points to Gryffindor. However in the future you are not to repeat what you read from a book verbatim, two points from Gryffindor." He looked around the classroom and scowled, "Well, why aren't any of you taking notes!"

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

"I see," Fred said, at least she thought it was Fred, "Snape chewed his bum out mightily did he, that would explain it."

"Yeah," George said, "don't worry 'bout it though, he does it to some poor sap among the firsties every year. In ours it was, uh," he scratched his chin thinking," who was it?" He snapped his fingers in realization, "Thomas Boone, yeah it was a hufflepuff that year."

Hermione was aghast at that, "Bu- But he's a teacher, that can't be right," she stammered out, the idea of a teacher behaving like that to students was just inconceivable to her. "If he does that every year, then- then how the bloody hell is he still teaching! How has he not been sacked!"

Fred clicked his tongue in understanding, "Well its a combination of a few things,you see." He explained as he crossed his legs and leaned back on his hands. "One major part is he's got Dumbledores endorsement, which grants him a ton of leeway. The second part is based on a theory me and Fred ave about why he does it."

"See, we noticed a trend the last two years, poor ol' Boone our first year was absolutely horrible at potions, but during our second year he was much better." Fred wobbled his hand infront of himself to emphasize, "Not the best but not the worst at potions, this year however we expect him to be one of the best in our year." Fred sighed and leaned back into the same position as his brother, "our theory is that he can tell who the worst student of the year will be and is extra tough on them so they have incentive to prove him wrong and get better. He does it to a few students a year, you'll see, although-," he trailed off.

"- We doubt Ronnie will pull his head from his bum long enough to learn that particular lesson," George finished.

Hermione considered what they had told her, 'A _Tough Love_ approach could fit,' she would have to wait and see. Something else was bothering her though, "Why are you so hard on your brother, you badmouth him just about every other sentence."

Fred and George sat up and looked at each other in surprise, they had a silent conversation for a bit before coming to a joint conclusion and nodding. George pulled his wand out and surreptitiously cast a few spells that muted the loudness of the common room.

Fred leaned in close, "The thing you have to understand is our brother is a really prat, gets into a tizzy over the littlest things, we've noticed it over the years and he's just getting worse. He wants and wants and wants but he won't do anything to further himself, he'll just complain when things don't go his way."

"Its our own tough love approach," George interjected. "We've decided to give him till the end of the school year fix himself before we have to do something drastic." The older gryffindors eyes went unfocused for a minute before he continued in a somber more serious tone, "See, a part of it, sadly, is our mum, she coddles him without realising it. Unfortunately it's made him think that he'll just get what he want's handed to him without putting forth the effort. He looks at our brother, Charley and thinks how cool it is that he works with dragons but at the same time gets into a jealous fit that he can't have the same without putting any effort or time into it."

They were silent for some time as she processed what they had told her, the unexpected depth and maturity of the two pranksters had surprised her. She wondered what else they were hiding beneath there prankster facade.

Then Fred clapped his hands to his knees suddenly and stood, stealing her book off her lap in the process. "But enough about our miserable brother we came here to treat you with the secrets of this illustrious castle, come come." And without bothering to look back he ran for the entrance to the common room, his brother following close behind."

It took Hermione a moment to process what had happened from the quickness of it, she stared gaping at where the boys had gone, then to her empty lap. "HEY, GET BACK HERE!" She exclaimed and was sprinting off after the two boys a reluctant smile on her face. Oh she would get them for stealing her book, oh yes she would.

* * *

**September 2nd,**

**Vicinity of the English Channel,**

**Rett Pil (Straight Arrow),**

**Freight Cargo Hold.**

Veno glanced up from his work when the holds hatch swung open, "Captain," he said nodding to the man and returned to creating a pile paper thin potato slices.

"How's tha Kid, Veno."

Finishing with his potato he wiped the knife down and slid it back into its sheath. Setting it aside he picked up the plate of potato slices, "Not bad, but not to good either." Veno picked up a slice of potato and gently set into onto a pink area of skin, "He's dehydrated of course, but not too badly, its the exposure that he got the worst of." With a steady hand he continued layering the potato slices on the boys lobster red skin, the effect would have looked kinda cool if it weren't for what it was covering, like brown dragon scales they were. "Its definitely gonna scar in a few spots, but he was lucky and only had a few medium sized blisters. I've already lanced and cauterized those less they get infected and I've been giving him fluids every fifteen minutes."

"Whats with the potatoes though, look's you went through about half bag," Sergei asked while reaching to steal a slice from the plate. "I heard on my way down here that Shen was awfully pissed when Dimitri acquisitioned them."

Veno scoffed, "Yeah well Shen's always pissed about something or another." He pulled the plate away and brushed the captains hand away admonishingly, "Shoo, there not for eating," he shook his head, "I swear you're just like my older brother. There for the burns, the starch in the potato will help lessen the scarring and there moisture will help sooth the skin while it heals. The kids lucky, it could have been a lot worse all things considered."

"Huh," the captain sighed and leaned against the the crates. "Never knew potatoes could be used for that, what book you learn that from," he inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"Hehe", Veno chuckled, "no book for this one Cap. When I was still a youngin and back home my older brother had the bright idea to get drunk at a beach party. He drank to much and subsequently passed out, when the party got packed up he was left there." He shook his head and grinned, "When the dumbass woke up around noon, he was as red as a pepper, not as bad as the kid has in a spots mind you, but my brother got an even coat of it, full frontal. I let him put potatoes on his own meat and potatoes if you get my drift, my ma' couldnt pay me anything to do that for the dumbass."

"You mean he got sunburn on his junk," Sergei cringed and shook his head incredulously. "Trakhnut' menya."

Veno chuckled and shook his head, "You got that right, he learned his lesson after that about drinking too much, he learned that he wasn't gifted with such an amazing tolerance like me. The kid got lucky though, he'll miss out on that oh so enjoyable life lesson." Veno sighed heavily and his body seemed to sag, "Unfortunately, I didn't ask you down here to tell you stories."

Stepping back to the table he set down the platter before picking up a small stack of polaroids and handing them warily to the captain. "I saw a lot of things while I was wandering around, but this type of thing." He shook his head as if to cast away the thoughts and sat down in the chair.

Sergei began flipping through the photographs, noticing each were of an area that was worse off than the general heavy sunburn that covered much of the boy's body. Several small boils before and after being lanced, a few particularly heavy spots of sunburn that were likely to scar. He was most of the way through the stack though when the content changed. Most of the pictures of skin had previously shown the predominantly red of a heavy sunburn, but these instead showed pale skin marred with several small and short lines of faded pink, bright angry red and dark purple. "Veno," he asked, he had an idea of what they were, but he just hoped it wasn't true, "what are these."

Veno looked down and fiddled with his hands, "The faded pink ones are the oldest, the red more recent and the purple ones signify repeated tissue damage. It is common when a still healing wound is further damaged or re opened, looking at those I am pretty sure they were likely caused by a belt buckle," he paled and pressed his fist to his mouth. "I saw something similar when I was passing through yemen, the child was," he took a moment to phrase it correctly. "He had different preferences, as opposed to his hardline muslim father, I try not to remember it much."

Sergi examined the photo of the scars, "The scars, each are a little different." One had a, pointed almost jagged edge to it, another set was slightly more rounded but were puckered at the edges.

"You can see that can you, should have figured. The best I can figure after seeing it is that there were two separate incidents to cause," Veno jerked a hand a the photo, "that, each a few years apart. It looks a lot worse than it is because of the tissue damage, the rest will likely heal over in five or six years year's, the spot's with the reapeted tissue damage will take a lot longer and will likely never fully heal."

"Why do you show me these, Veno." Sergei asked as he straightened the polaroids in his hand.

Veno shrugged and sat up a bit, "I'm not entirely sure, pity, sympathy, I dont even know if the kid will want either. Most who go through something like this develop a coping mechanism, make themselves hard enough that they don't let it affect them or lash out. Im guessing the first one of the first two," he sighed and roughly rubbed his face and hair, "he just doesn't have enough scars for the latter." Veno slouched back in the chair, his expression heavy. "I suppose I showed you them so you give the kid a chance, offer him something else than being sent off to an orphanage or ending up on the streets."

It took Sergei a few seconds to comprehend what he was saying, "Veno, you can expect-, Asking something like this of me is-."

"I know what im asking, I- I normally wouldn't ever ask such a thing but," he paused, "i've seen what the system is like, what it does to people, he would never have a chance. I can take care of the documentation part of it, depending on what he decides. Just give him a chance captain."

The hold was silent aside from the crates creaking and Sergei slapping the photos against his hand. "Ok, fine, i'll offer him a position," he said hesitantly, "but if he accepts he's your responsibility." He jabbed a finger at Veno, "You are the one who will show him the ropes, got it?"

Veno smiled slightly and nodded in acceptance, "Got it cap'n."

The Captain shook his head in exasperation and made his way to the door, "How you ever conned your way onto my crew i'll never know."

Veno laughed, "My charming personality oh captain my captain."

"Shut it you otrod'ye," he grumbled and slammed the hatch shut.

Veno rose from his chair and chuckled, he began to tidy up the table when a kitchen timer went off. Quickly Veno shut off the irritant and grabbed a water bottle with a long clear tube duct taped to the cap. "You hear that kid," he turned and smirked toward the cot. "I think the captain likes you."

* * *

**Translations**

{English translation} : {What it is being translated to} : {Translated word or phrase}

Fuck Me : Russian : Trakhnut' menya

Brat : Russian : Otrod'ye

* * *

Authors Note 2,

Same type of edits as the last chapter and not much to add about it.

* * *

(Old) Authors note,

So yeah, this is one of the shorter chapters I had mentioned. Orioginaly I had meant to have this as the first part of a larger chapter 3 but it just felt right to cut it here, it just didnt feel right as I was proofreading the first half. It covers the core details of chapter 3 and the rest of the chapter just felt like extra baggage. Also i'm thinking of shortening the title, tell me what you think, please, really, theres no need to be shy.


	4. Chapter Four: The Passage of Time

Disclaimer: The Author of this work of FanFiction does not own any of the copyrighted works used in this work of fiction, inspiration and ideas are drawn consciously ( and sometimes unconsciously) from many places. Including but not limited to TV, Books, Comics, World News, Websites, Politics and many others. This author does not represent the interests or opinions of the original authors of these works.

The primary Authors note for the chapters of this story are located at the end. For those of you (most likely among the majority) who do not read the authors notes either before nor after the bulk of the chapter, this is for you.

Constructive criticism is appreciated and I look forward to it, however if you wish to "Flame" please do so in a clear and concise manner so as I can attempt to fix the problem.

"Character Speaking"

"_Character Reading Aloud"_

"CHARACTER YELLING"

'Character Thinking'

'_Character Reading mentally'_

Character Narration

_Magic/ Spell use or Quoting_

**Section or Date / Title**

And now, I hope you enjoy this chapter, Of Fakes and Frauds

* * *

**September 6th,**

**International Waters,**

**Rett Pil,**

**Freight Cargo Hold.**

"So, what am I supposed to call you," Veno asked as he pulled another stitch through what would be a pair of pants for his patient. He looked up at the kid who he had propped up on a sack of rice from the mess. Now, a few days later the kid was almost healed aside from a few patches of really bad burns he only had some slight redness. Shen wouldn't be to happy about him commandeering it of, when he found out that was, but as the saying went, It was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

"I cant keep calling you Kid no matter how apt it is. I can call you little British or if you're so inclined, The Great Zucchini Fucker," he smirked at the kid. "But the rest of the crew, they won't be as understanding you see or as polite in coming up with a name."

Harry didn't respond to his questioning for a while, he, Veno the man who had helped heal him, was right. But he didn't want to be Harry anymore, Harry had been the dursleys servant and slave. But what should he choose, he didn't want anything too different, it just felt weird. Haele had sounded good but it had struck too close to home. There was a name he liked though but what was it, he knew he had read it in his history book, what was. "Adrian, my name is Hadrian," the newly christened Hadrian said in a slight rasp. his throat still a bit when he talked despite all the water he had drunk since waking up on this ship.

"Hadrian huh, where'd ya come up with that one, wee Hadrian," Veno asked while he continued sewing. "How'd ya figure that one."

"Istory book," he said, Finding it was just a bit too difficult to pronounce the H of the word.

Veno set the bundle of fabric on the table and extended the water bottle tube to Hadrian, "A history book eh," he thought for a minute as Hadrian drank then snapped his fingers. "Hadrian, built the wall that separated the Roman held territory from the wild lands of Britain, one of the Five Good Emperors, good choice kid. Though I think I'll call you Adrian for simplicitys sake." Veno smirked and sat back down to continue his sewing. "And what about the offer to work on the crew, the captain will likely come down around sunset to ask." Veno shrugged and shook out the pants to examine the stitching, "Just keep thinking about it, but don't get too comfortable yet, you need to try these on so I can make sure they fit."

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

"Wow."

"It's different from this view huh kid," Veno asked him.

"Yea, different," he stared out at the vast ocean around him, what had been an unending surface that stood between him and safety was now simply a conduit for the ship he now traveled on. It was kinda cold though, despite the clothes Veno had made for him, it blocked a fair bit of the wind coming off the seas though so they weren't that bad. A poncho, Veno had called the shirt, coat, jacket, thing. The strange garment and a pair of pants that he could tighten with a drawstring were his only clothes, were now the sum total of his possessions. Hadrian rubbed the garments fabric between his fingers, he hadn't had anything of any true value before. These clothes were cheap and crude. To be sure, but they were his and they were leagues better than dudleys hand-me-downs, .

"If you're ready?"

Hadrians head jerked around to look at Veno, it took a moment for him to see his hand indicating a door that opened to where the ship was driven. Or as Veno had told him, the Bridge, it was time to meet the captain.

"Yeah lets get this over with," warily Hadrian stepped away from the railing and onto the bridge, Veno followed in behind him and shut the hatch.

The first absolute first thing his eyes were drawn to wasn't the instruments or the crewman, but the naked lady on the page of a magazine held by the man whom Veno had described as the Captain, Sergei Gavlik. The captain folded another page back and Hadrian saw another woman, not quite as newd but equally interesting, dressed in a thin black garment that didn't really cover anything up. Hadrian felt his face getting warm and hot but didnt know why. Loud laughing from behind him drew his attention away.

"Hehe, hey Cap, you wanna give the kid the talk or should I?" Veno laughed a little harder when he too a look the kids face, just priceless.

Sergei, finally noticing the newcomers to the bridge grumbled and put the magazine out of sight on the side of the chair. He waved them forward and looked Hadrian up and down, "Well you certainly look much better, ya looked like some kinda monster reject last time I saw you." he reached out and turned the kids head, and narrowed his eyes, " Healed up real well to," he murmured. Puting the thought out of his mind Sergei clapped and rubbed his hands together, "Well what do ya wanna do kid," he jerked his thumb at Veno. "Im sure this ukol already told you the offer so what's your decision, stay or go, what will it be? You should know, you'll have to earn your keep, I can't have a body on this ship just taking up space and this ships no daycare."

To Hadrian the choice was simple, he had no where to go, no one who wanted him, no one but himself. That was behind him though, no reason to dwell on the past, "If its alright with you sir, I would like to stay, I ave nowere else to go."

Sergei nodded to himself, "Figured as much, but I gotta know what you can do in order to place ya."

Hadrian rubbed his arms self consciously, 'I don't really want to tell them about the Dursleys though,' "Um, uh." A hand on his shoulder stopped him and he glanced up at Veno.

"Its ok kid, just tell him what you told me."

He straightened his back and stared the Captain in the eye's, "I am good at cooking, cleaning, mainet- maintenance, fixing things and sewing."

"Right." The Captain nodded and pulled his magazine back out," Veno, show the kid around the ship for now, but get him to Shen around four. Ill call down and let him know hes gonna have an assistant. We can shift him around for the next week or so, get a grasp on what he can do."

He lowered the magazine enought to look at them, "Dismissed."

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

"Was that it," Hadrian asked and looked up at Veno as he was led into the depths of the ship.

Veno chuckled, "Yeah that was it, our Captain is a man of few words unless he feels the need to talk. That little scene back there was almost exactly the same as when I became a crewman, porno mag an all." Veno scratched his chin, "Though he usually has a porno mag at hand so dont be to surprised if you see him with it again.

Hadrian looked back down the corridor, his brow furrowed in thought. "But why didn't he ask anything else?"

Veno looked at him in confusion before a look of realization spread across his face, "Ah, thats what's got your panties in a bunch. See, something you gotta understand about this crew is that were pretty diverse, we each got our histories, past's and problems. Not all of them pleasant, so we try not to pry unless it can affect the safety of the ship and crew." Veno grinned and ruffled the kids hair, "You ain't the most dangerous thing on this ship, you can trust me on that." He stopped Hadrian an knelt to look him in the eye, "But get ready to see some stuff kid, serving on this ship can be an experience to say the least.

* * *

**September 6th,**

**Great Britain,**

**Hogwarts,**

**Headmasters Office.**

There were several habit's the man known as Dumbledore had developed over the years that he could use discretely when dealing with irritable situations. Stroking his beard, sucking on lemon drops special and normal, reminiscing on battles long past, or his personal favorite of using passive legilimency to read the hidden thoughts of those before him. For the situation he was facing now he had chosen to stroke his beard, it was a mannerism that made people believe he was concentrating on them intently. In this case he was imagining and mentally enacting the many ways he could dispose of Minister Fudge without being caught or suspected of the act.

"Where is the boy Albus! The public is in an outcry, they want answers and I need something to placate them!" Fudge exclaimed while he worried his little green bowler hat to death and paced over the office rug.

Despite the man's incompetence and ineptitude he had a point, but what could he tell this pompous blowhard that could placate him, his supporters and the public, that he had lost the boy? 'It may have been a bad idea to let the public know he was in my care,' he thought while he stroked his beard for the eighty fifth time since the meeting had began. "Cornelius you are simply getting too worked up over this matter," he beckoned to a comfortable chair in front of his desk, "please, sit; have a lemon drop."

Cornelius rounded on him, "I don't want a damn lemon drop or to sit down and calm down, I WANT TO KNOW WHERE HARRY BLOODY POTTER IS!"

Dumbledore sighed and subtly slipped his hand from his beard to his robe sleeve, "My dear boy, Cornelius-"

"Dont dear boy me, Dumbledore! I WANT-"

Enough was enough, he could feel the onset of a headache and this windbag wasn't helping. Quick as a whip he pulled out his wand and confounded the man in front of him causing his eyes to glaze over, "Cornelius, now that we are through with this Harry Potter business would it not behoove you to let me get back to my work, I have so much to do after all." The bumbling incompetent just stood there for a minute and Dumbledore had to wonder if he had broken the man at last. But alas just as a bit of drool began to escape the mans gaping mouth his eyes cleared and he stood straight.

"Yes, yes, you're absolutely right Albus, much to do much to do." And without further pondering or delay he threw some floo powder into the kamin and departed back to his little fiefdom at the ministry in a burst of green flame.

The man known as Dumbledore rubbed his face warily, he didn't need this scheiss right now.

"You are aware, you won't be able to keep doing that forever do you not. Despite, how amusing it may be."

Dumbledore glared up at the painting of the former headmaster, Phineas Nigellus.

"Be silent, I have no need for commentary from the dead." The painted man sniffed in disdain, unable to comment on the irony and hypocrisy of his words so he just walked out of his frame. The man known as dumbledore pounded his fist onto the desk, "You stupid verdammt junge, where sind sie!

* * *

**September 6th,**

**International Waters,**

**Rett Pil,**

**Galley.**

"So, you think you can cook boy, you think you can impress me enough to work in my mess?"

Hadrian just stared at the man, 'Is this guy real?' He thought, this little chinese guy with a buzz cut standing before him in the most ridiculous pose he had ever seen, like a cartoon he was. Arms crossed high over his chest, nose up and his eyes squinted they were damn near closed he looked the stereotypical chinaman if it weren't for the pristine white chefs smock..

From the galley hatch Veno laughed deeply,"Oh give it a rest Shen, theres no need to defend your turf." He came over and ruffled Hadrian's scruffy hair. "The kid's just getting evaluated, he can help you out so you have more time to make your pudding. Just set him to work doing prep, keep an eye on him though, I think you'll be surprised." Finished with introducing the two he left the galley with only a parting jest, "Just don't turn him to stew!"

Ignoring Veno's jest Hadrian just stared at the man until he relaxed from his exaggerated pose and he stared into the asian mans almond shaped, blue eyes. And stared, and stared, and stared some more until the man broke eye contact and began circling him. "If you are to be working in here there are rules you will follow, do you understand boy?"

"Yesir."

"Excellent, Rule Number one," Shen held up a single finger as he passed in front of him. "There will be no wasted food in my mess, almost everything has a use, as such you will prepare your ingredients in a clean and organised manner." As shen passed by again he held up a second finger, "Rule Number Two, you will uphold the strictest standards of cleanliness in this galley at all times, you will sanitize your equipment before and after every you use it and clean up after yourself when ever it is available to conserve time on the final clean up."

Shen stopped and looked him in the eyes again, he held up three fingers now. "Rule Number Three, if at anytime you injure yourself be it a slip of the knife or a bit of hot oil you will stop what you are doing, make sure no one else will be hurt and fix yourself. You will be an assistant, boy, not a liability. Do you understand me?"

Hadrian nodded his confirmation, "Yesir."

"Good," he clapped his hands and looked about the galley that Hadrian now realized was practically spotless. "For tonight we will start simple, peeling potatoes, chopping vegetables and tenderizing the meat."

"Is it a stew, sir?" Hadrian asked.

"That is Correct," Shen said," when the captain called down I thought something simple to start with would be appropriate, I have already cleaned and set out the ingredients. Clean yourself quickly and get over to the counter."

As Hadrian walked the short distance to the sink he took his time to examine the Kitchen, or _Galley_ as it was called on a ship, in depth. He hadn't seen much of the ship so far aside from the hold, the deck and some of the quarters but the galley seemed different, it seemed in a sense _new _despite the obvious wear of constant use. But maybe it was the fact that all the surfaces, utensils and pans practically gleamed in the light. Quickly Hadrian washed and dried his hands and turned back around to face the island in the center of the galley and the piles of unprepared ingredients as well as a stack of clear tubs. Hadrian stepped up to the edge of the island but before he could even pick up the potato peeler Shen had appeared behind him and smacked his reaching hand.

"Hands, show them," Shen ordered quick and brief. Hadrian presented his hands and after a brief examination he deemed them satisfactory. "They are clean, however," he said and grabbed Hadrians left hand and flipped it to examine the palm more closely. "While working in my galley you will not be adding to-," with a disgusted grimace he jabbed his finger at several splotchy sections of skin and lines, "-these. Remember, Rule Number three, fix yourself when hurt, no exceptions, now let us begin." The man moved around the counter the stopped and pulled something out from a drawer in the island. "But first," he thrust a bundle of striped grey fabric into Hadrians hands and walked to the other side of the island, "put it on. Rule Number Three, Cleanliness."

Shaking out the fabric Hadrian saw that it was an apron and slipped it over his head, quickly tying the strands tight and stepped back up to the counter. Wanting to get started he reached to pick up the peller but stopped and glanced up to Shen for confirmation. With his quick nod of confirmation Hadrian picked up the peller and selected a potato and began peeling.

He started on the end and began turning the potato, cutting off a single long strand in the process. The strand broke several times in the process but he finished the potato in just under thirty seconds, he tossed the peel into a tub Shen had set out for that purpose. Then he moved onto the next, then the next, then, the next until all that was left was a tub of potato peels and peeled potatoes.

Shen, who had been preparing several small portions of the other ingredients picked up a peeled potato to inspect, "Good boy, very good," he set the potato back into its container, "you may prove to be a useful assistant yet. Now, your responsibility will to prepare the rest." Shen slid a tub and a cutting board with knife to his side, "I have prepared examples of how I want the ingredients, let me see how you chop."

Understanding that the man wanted to see for himself Hadrian's cooking abilities he looked inside the tub, 'diced parsley, easy enough,' he thought. Grabbing a handful of the greens he set them into a line then picked up the knife and tested its edge, sharp. Hadrian clenched his fist, holding it over the greens and held the knife just a hair away from his knuckles, then he began chopping. He cut with smooth, even strokes, as he moved his fist down the line of greens, keeping the knife just away from the skin.

Throughout the process Shen watched the kid, he knew his way around ingredients, there was no doubt. But why, did he know his way around ingredients so well. Cutting and peeling like the kid did took experiance. He would have to have Veno ask, no need to scare the kid off just yet.

Shen stepped closer to get a closer look on how he did, "Good, good," he tossed the freshly diced parsley into the tub. "Just do as I did with the rest of it all and wash up, I should have something for you then. Chop chop, we've got twenty smelly assholes to feed in an hour and were gonna do it well."

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

Sure enough, within an hour the smell of a Hearty stew was drifting throughout the corridors of the ship, drawing those who were off duty to the Mess. "EYY SHEN, WHAT IS THE FUCK, YOU PUT SAUCE IN THIS? IS BETTER THEN REGULAR!"

Shen's head snapped around and fixed his eyes on the source of the belligerence, "OH SHUT IT OLOF, I AINT PUTTING BOOZE IN MY FOOD SO STOP ASKING!" Shen shook his head and ladled out another helping of the stew to the waiting crewman, "that dumbass".

He scanned the crowd, watching the crew scarf down soaking chunks of bread and spoons full of stew. 'It wasn't me that made the stew idiot', shen turned to look at the kid that had been pulled aboard. Hadrian, Veno had called him, a fake name if his delayed reactions to it were an indication. While Shen had been the one to set out most of the things for the meal, it had been the kid who had followed his instructions and finished it while he had been doing prep work for the next days meal's. He was sitting at the now clean island counter, just staring into space and doodling on a bit of scrap paper while he ate, the kid sure had some problems but seemed to handle them in his own way. Shen sighed and shook his head, wondering just what kind of messed up home the kid had been in.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

"Well," Shen dried his hands on a towel before tossing it onto the counter, "you did good kid." He crouched in front of the kid, "You did a good job and," he shook his head," you somehow made my plain old stew taste better than I can remember. Keep going and youll put old shen out of the job," he out his chest and sighed dramatically," oh woe is me."

"But seriously, good job kid, Little Adrian."

Hadrian wanted to grumble but held himself back, 'Should'a picked something else.' Apparently the name Adrian was fairly common in northern countries. So when shen had introduced him as his assistant and that Hadrian had been the one to cook the meal, some wise ass berk had titled him Little Adrian. The name had unfortunately stuck among the crew.

"But seriously, good work kid." Shen clapped his assistant on the shoulder a few times, "Unfortunately, I won't need you tomorrow so Veno'll probably have you working somewhere else to see how you do. Don't worry though, i'll get you day after next and we can mix something up a bit more challenging. Now get along to wherever you're staying," he led the kid to the door. "I'm gonna finish cleaning up, you probably need your rest, get along to bed."

Hadrian glared at him for a moment at the condescension. However mentally, he had to admit he was beginning to feel the day so he hurried his way down to the hold for what would hopefully be a good nights sleep.

* * *

**September 6th,**

**Great Britain,**

**Hogwarts,**

**Headmasters Office.**

With a resounding crack of displaced air that rattled shelves, the man known as Dumbledore apparated into his office, in the process bringing the smell of fish and other offal that stuck to his clothes. With a disgusted grunt he waved his wand, vanishing the pungent and putrid smells before sagging into his chair.

Another dead end and another late arrival. Eight long range apparitions both ways, two more than the previous time. Perhaps it was time to make a portkey to the Dark Continent, just for expediency's sake. Albus drummed his fingers on the desk in frustration, the boy was always just out of his reach, always leaving long before he even got the notification. Pounding his fist viciously on the desk once he yanked open a drawer and pulled out a sheaf of parchment, just one more factor to add to his calculations.

It had become glaringly obvious to him early on that the boy was still at sea, it was the only possibility really. But it was only after following the tracking charms he had placed on the boy a fourth dead end that he had realized the boy was on a ship. A muggle merchant ship most likely as there was little chance someone with tracking charms would be allowed onto a magical merchant vessel, no matter a captains incompetence. No, the boy was on a muggle vessel, he was sure of it and despite this latest failure he had another clue. The trick was that he just had to get ahead of the boy before he made land, or close to it at least so he could get to the boy before he moved. The third location he had tracked the boy to had just been an area of sea shallow enough for the tracker to hit the closest leyline though so predicting an spot to wait for him became difficult.

With an absent minded wave of his wand a sheet of parchment shot out of the stack and enlarged into an immensely detailed map of the world. To many it could be considered a work of art and in a sense it was. The Map known only as that, had been a collaboration piece between Leonardo Da Vinci and an alchemist whose name had been lost to time. The highest pinnacle of cartographical work to likely ever be made, one of a kind and only he had access to it.

It showed the entire surface of the earth and could be shifted into the spherical form of a globe with but a touch of the wand. Ocean depths, coastlines, mountains, elevations, deserts, temperatures, leylines, cities known and unknown, magical and mundane, everything that was and is. It was self updating in a way he only knew to be similar in the Marauders Map which had been tied into the very warding system of the castle. He suspected The Cartography though, as he had come to call it, used the very ley lines of the earth. He had tried, on several occasions, to unravel its secrets but the method of its creation and innerworkings always eluded him. It had been invaluable during his campaign sixty years ago, but that was also the reason he had hesitated to use it, the thing just reminded him to much of the war.

With a casual flick of his wand a flag emblazoned with a 5 inked itself onto the parchment and a line connected itself to several others. The beginnings of a pattern, a path, or more accurately a shipping route. Coastal ports and locations near the coast were marked, flick of his wand sent several pages of parchment to hover alongside the flags, details and information he had gathered on each location. Yet another piece of the puzzle was forming, he just needed to predict where the next piece would appear and he would have the junge! Dumbledore stroked his beard absentmindedly, there were of course precautions that would need to be taken when he succeeded in re-attaining his wayward student. Obligations and compulsions that would need to be cast, bindings re-tightened. The boy was certainly getting the short end of the stick, Dumbledore honestly and truly couldn't blame the child for wanting to escape his prophesied fate. But despite that it was all for the greater good of all magic kind, after all what was the life of one versus that of the world.

* * *

**September 7th,**

**Great Britain,**

**Hogwarts,**

**Great Hall.**

On the morning of her first Friday at Hogwarts Hermione wanted to skip down the hall in excitement as she was about to have her first Transfiguration lesson. It was just so exciting to her, being able to turn one thing into another, even if it was only temporary was simply amazing, although she had read transmutation through alchemy was permanent.

She shivered in excitement, she couldn't stand the wait as she scarfed down her breakfast a bit too quickly. From what she had read it was one of the more universal uses of magic, next to potions and charms.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

Hermione pulled the handle, it stuck and didn't open. She tried again to the same effect, still nothing. She sighed and set her book bag to the side and gripped the door with both hands and put a foot to the stone doorframe and pulled. With a low screech of grinding metal the door popped open and she fell bottom over top.

Hermione scrambled to her feet quickly and glanced around to check if any had seen her fumble. Hermione let out a breath of relief, the coast was clear, she quickly padded herself down of any dust and entered the classroom.

Immediately, Hermione noticed the lack of other students and the lack of teacher, she glanced around trying to figure out if she had the wrong room when she spotted the cat that stood out near the front of the classroom, past the desks and cages littered about. The cat that was sitting atop a stool, the cat that looked an awful lot like Professor Mcgonagall did when she had transformed. Hermione raised her eyebrow in confusion; A cat, that had now raised his paw to its mouth and made a shushing noise. An, all too human, gesture. "Prof-Professor Mcgonagall, is that you," Hermione asked.

The cat narrowed its eyes and pointed a paw at the desk on the right side of the room. The message was obvious, sit down and be quiet.

Hermione hurried over to the desk and sat, and waited in an awkward silence until she pulled out her transfiguration book, to a meow of approval from the cat.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

By the time the final bell rang most all the seat in the class had been filled and a low murmur echoed in the room. Most of it about where the Professor or Harry Potter was, lunch or other tripe, the other muggle borns however either wisely stayed silent or didn't know Professor Mcgonagall was in the room with them and were just smart enough not to talk out of turn in a classroom. For several minutes everyone just whispered among themselves, that was until the smartmouth before the sorting ceremony opened his mouth again and drew everyone's attention to himself. Hermione tried to ignore him and continue reading but he was just too loud and what he had the audacity to say shocked her.

"Pft, the Bint's likely been sacked for how she treated me last night, my father wouldn't have let that go unpunished!"

Hermione whipped her gaze back to the cat to see its eyes narrow into slits and dig its claws into the seat of the stool, 'What an arsehole, is he trying cock up on purpose!'

But before the the fool could bury himself any deeper the cat leapt off the stool, sending it to the floor with a clatter, and transformed mid air. Professor Mcgonagall appearing in front of the boy seemed to shut him up, she was almost red in the face when her hand snatched out lightning quick and clamped down on the boys ear. "Mr. Malfoy, would you please repeat what you just said," she spoke slowly as if to ensure the boy couldn't misunderstand. "I do not believe I heard you correctly."

"I-I, but you," the boy obviously didn't say what she wanted as she pulled him from his chair by the ear and dragged him down the row of desks.

Professor Mcgonagall ranted as she left the room with a squirming boy pulled behind her, "_Never, NEVER, _I swear in all my years as an educator!" Then the classroom door slammed shut and the class was silent, Hermione just shook her head in amazement at the stupidity she had witnessed and went back to reading.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

Minerva slammed the door behind her and jerked on the ear she was holding, eliciting a sharp yelp from the pompous little whelp. "Never, in over forty years as an educator has a student shown a much disrespect as you have shown before you even began your first class." She jerked again on the ear and she pulled the arrogant little brat down the stairs toward the dungeons, "Never!"

A hand batted at her arm, trying to dislodge it from the ear she held so she pinged it tighter, "OW, Unhand me this instant woman. When my father-"

Minerva scowled and jerked on the ear again to elicit another yelp while continuing her march into and through the dungeons, "You don't have to worry about your father hearing about this because I will be calling him and your mother here for a meeting. I wonder what he will think when he learns his son has set the school record of causing trouble!"

Draco stilled at the thought but this only earned another pull on his abused ear, he fumed at the embarassment but silently dreaded what father would do.

Minerve stopped at a door and pulled it open a crack to peek her head in, "Professor Snape could you help me with a matter involving one of your snakes, it will only take a moment."

She stepped aside and seconds later the door was pushed open and the Potions Professor stepped out.

Severus took a single glance at the hold Minerva had on Draco's ear and assumed his godson had done something dunderheaded. "I presume he has done something?"

Minerva jerked on the boys ear one more time before letting go, "Teach him his manners, or ill let Mr. Filch teach him." She turned on her heel and made her way back to her classroom, "He could finally use those chains of his."

Draco stared after the woman hatefully and turned to his godfather but as he did he felt a light smack on the back of his head. He looked up at the Potions Master, "Bu- But why?"

Severus just scowled at Lucius's son, "I am not sure what you did but now is not the time. Go back to the dorm." He said tersely and smacked the whelp aside the head when he was about to complain. "I do not care for your excuses right now," he pointed down the hall toward the Slytherin dorms, "go."

Draco glared at him then turned and stalked away, wondering just what he had done wrong.

Severus sighed and wondered just how Lucius could have buggered up that child so badly before re-entering his class and already preparing to yell at some dunderhead or another.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

Several minutes later the Professor re-entered the classroom, sans a blonde haired loudmouth. Everyone noticeably sat up straighter under her gaze as she began taking role of the class, each called student identifying themselves with a raise hand and a call of; Here..

Unfortunately there was an absence, a Gryffindor to make it worse, Ronald Weasley.

"Has anybody seen Mr. Weasley," Professor Mcgonagall snapped.

"Um he was in the great hall still eating last I saw of him professor," a Gryffindor boy by the name Seamus Finnigan answered. Several other students nodded, backing up the report.

Mcgonigals lips pinched into a thin line. "Very well," she pulled out her wand and silently cast a spell of glowing yellow at the door and continued her roll call.

\-=-=-=-=-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-=-=-=-=-\

It was by the time the class was halfway over that hermione had decided Transfiguration was likely to be her favorite subject. The very Idea of transforming one thing into another was just so radically different to anything the muggle world, so different than what she had thought possible that it drew her in. Sure, the things that were transfigured wouldn't stay like that forever but still, something like that could be used for temporary applications in conjunction with so many other things. However the class was interrupted by the arrival of a boy that she had decided in no uncertain terms would be a village's idiot when he got older. Ronald Weasley, a boy whom she couldn't decide was an incompetent or an idiot or both. It was a very judgemental of her as she hardly knew the boy but the way he was trying to enter the class unnoticed was just, well, idiotic.

Frankly she could now understand why Fred and George disliked him so much.

As he had tried to sneak in a shrill screech from the door hinges killed any chance of entering silently and without notice. As all heads were drawn to the noise and Ronald was pinned by the gaze of over two dozen pairs of eyes. One of which belonged to a particularly irate Minerva Mcgonagall. She slowly rose from behind her desk with her palms on the desk surface. Unblinkingly she stared down her nose at him, "Mr. Weasley, how good it is of you to join us, I do hope you enjoyed your lunch _Hour."_

Ronald gapped at her for a moment while his brain un-froze, "Ah Prof- Professor Mcgonagall, im sorry but I got lost and couldn't find the classroom," he tried to excuse himself but even everyone could tell the Professor wasn't buying it.

Minerva smiled slightly, "Is that so Mr. Weasley? Please, dont be afraid to correct me if I am wrong but did your brothers not give, what I have been told, was an excellent tour of the castle?" She tilted her head to the side, coincidentally, much like a cat would and continued to glare unblinkingly at the fool. "Or is it that you simply did not attend it and chose to sleep in and missed it? I really do have to wonder though how hard you looked seeing as the great hall is only several corridors away."

He tried to come up with an excuse but fell flat trying to think of anything that could possibly appease the obviously irate Professor.

"No matter Mr. Weasley, we shall discuss your tardiness in length at the after class," with a swirl of her wand she transfigured the stool she had been perched upon in cat form earlier into a quite uncomfortable chair desk combination. With a critical eye Minerva eyed Ronalds uniform, "Now sit, and a detention for improper attire and not a having your hat." With a sharp jab of her wand a hat in the shape of a cone appeared on her students head, it was brilliant white, tall with a large red and gold D emblazoned upon it. She cast a sticking charm on it to keep it in place, "Much better, Mr. Weasley. Now," she pointed sharpy at the chair," sit, you are disrupting my class."

Hermione let out an uncontrollable giggle at the obnoxious dunce cap the boy now wore, Professor Mcgonagall certainly seemed to be creative in her punishments. Yes, this was likely become her favorite class.

* * *

**September 20th,**

**Off the coast of Spain,**

**Rett Pil,**

**Galley.**

With a heave Hadrian lifted dropped the last burlap sack of canned food and perishables onto the island counter of the galley. He wiped the sweat off his brow with his sleeve and leaned against the counter to catch his breath. He looked at the dozen or so similar bags and silently marveled that he had been the one to bring them all the way to the galley. It seemed a regular diet combined with all the work had been fairly beneficial.

"No passing out, no dieing in galley, assistant boy."

Hadrian slumped, bumping his head against the steel surface of the island but perked up when Shen set out a folding chair for him to sit in. Staggering over to the uncomfortable metal contraption Hadrian lowered himself into and rested his burning legs and back. It hadn't taken him to long to adjust to working on the Rett Pil, mentally that was, physically was another thing entirely. Almost every night and some mornings he practically collapsed onto his assigned bunk in physical exhaustion. It was usually a dull burn or ache that permeated his body. It wasn't bad though, he was getting paid for one thing and after a working for over a week aboard the ship he had made more than he had ever been allowed to have at Casa De Dursley. A soft clink on the the islands surface in front of him drew his attention back to the real world. A small bowl and spoon were the source, but it was the steam and enticing scents wafting out of the bowl drew him in. He leaned over and inhaled deeply the smell of vanilla and almond. Hadrian glanced up at Shen who was now standing on the other side of the island, "The Risalamande?" Shen simply nodded. Hadrian inhaled again, he could almost feel his body loosening, "I thought you hadn't finished it yet," he asked.

"Not finished, sample batch, need more almonds."

Hadrian simply nodded, in the short time he had been helping Shen in the galley he had noticed the asian man would sometimes get into a mood. Happy, sad, angry; Hadrian did not know but so far it had happened twice and both times Shen had decided to do something new. He also started slipping in his english, talking in short, brief sentences which had made working with him a little dull. Case and point, the rice pudding he was working on. The rice pudding shen made was apparently a crew favorite, but for one reason or another Shen had gotten in a mood and decided to change it. The Risalamande a French slash Danish version of rice pudding was the result. He just didn't have the ingredients to make large batches, yet. Hadrian picked up the spoon and scooped out a portion of the desert. He blew on the still steaming blob and bit down on the creamy confection. Slowly, savoring Hadrian tasted the pudding, taking mental note of each flavor. "Its very good, but," Hadrian frowned trying to place the taste correctly, "a bit too much vanilla."

"Hnn, thought as much, hand slipped on bottle, to much spilled, no use being wasteful though." Shen frowned, "Finish up," he checked the clock on the wall that had the ship time, "you have twelve minutes break, then yourself up. Meatloaf tonight, shouldn't take long to prepare, sooner start sooner finish."

* * *

**The Deceptive Passages of Time**

It was through the trickery of time that nigh no one but the hyper observant and those that studiy it ever notice. But soon enough weeks had passed for two people in a relative monotony and normality, for the two people whom it should never have.

On a ship that traveled the seas and the oceans the induction and presence of a new, if irregular crewmember became common place as the boy who called himself Hadrian, with no last name. learned to make his own way in life and began to emerge from his protective shell of apathy and began to heal.

But hundreds if not thousands of kilometers away in an ancient castle hidden deep in the depths of scotland a young and optimistic, if slightly pessimistic, girl by the name of Hermione Granger had discovered she had an amazing capacity to learn and perform magic. She had learned to harness a power inside her that, almost literally in her opinion, spat in the face of what she had known to be the absolute and undeniable laws of the world.

Both children had sudden life altering events happen to them in close succession, but this was only the prelude. For it would be on the night of All Hallows Eve that things would truly change for them, and in the process there will be paths that will open and paths that would close forever that neither ever knew existed. For one it would be a fairly demure and quiet affair filled with irritation and fun, but for another it would be something that would break them and cause them to reconsider all they knew.

* * *

**Translations**

{English translation} : {What it is being translated to} : {Translated word or phrase}

Prick : Russian : Ukol (укол)

Boy : German : Junge

You stupid goddamn boy, where are you! : German : You stupid verdammt junge, where sind sie!

Goddamn : German : Verdammt

Are You: German : Sind Sie

Straight Arrow : Norwegian : Rett Pil

* * *

Authors note 2,

AHHH, I like this chapter much better now. Just doesn't feel as rough. Also If you have noticed I have moved a chunk the chapter and made it into its own chapter. Yep, thats right. The transition just didnt feel right, it just felt forced. I may put it back, or not. Tell me what you think.

KiDz

* * *

(Old) Authors Note,

Again I dont particularly like parts of this chapter, they just kinda chafed me a bit. Would have had this finished a few days ago if not for the Super (disappointing) Bowl, Life, Going back to work, but I am halfway through with the next chapter so it should be of a decent length as well.

In conclusion I hope you like enjoy the Sochi construction Olympics, Which Hotel will be finished first and who of the media staff will earn the tetnus award?

Have A pleasant weekend,

KiDz


	5. Chapter Four Point Five: All Hallows Eve

Disclaimer: The Author of this work of FanFiction does not own any of the copyrighted works used in this work of fiction, inspiration and ideas are drawn consciously ( and sometimes unconsciously) from many places. Including but not limited to TV, Books, Comics, World News, Websites, Politics and many others. This author does not represent the interests or opinions of the original authors of these works.

The primary Authors note for the chapters of this story are located at the end. For those of you (most likely among the majority) who do not read the authors notes either before nor after the bulk of the chapter, this is for you.

Constructive criticism is appreciated and I look forward to it, however if you wish to "Flame" please do so in a clear and concise manner so as I can attempt to emend the percieved problem.

"Character Speaking"

"CHARACTER YELLING"

'Character Thinking'

Character Narration

_Magic/ Spell use_

**Section or Date / Title**

And now, I hope you enjoy this chapter, Of Fakes and Frauds

Chapter Four: All Hallows Eve

* * *

**ALL HALLOWS EVE**

"Why that stupid, immature, idiotic boy" Hermione ranted to herself between hiccups, "stupid presumptions, stupid stupid me." The day had been going so well but then it had all gone down the drain during that mornings charms lesson. Professor flitwick had been teaching the Wingardium Leviosa charm, allowing the caster to levitate objects with a swish and a flick of there wand. He had spent a fair portion of the class demonstrating the correct pronunciation, wand motions and had sent a few objects zooming around the classroom at his conclusion.

She had thought the class had gone quite well in her opinion, she had even earned five points for her school house. But it was when the class was nearing it's end that she had made her mistake, by being helpful and considerate to someone who obviously needed help. The person in need being the slob next to her, a boy by the the name of Ronald Weasley who was her housemate.

He was a dunce of a boy who always had some form of smudge or food on his face and had almost jabbed her in the eye with his wand, for the fifth time, so she decided to try help him. She had shown him the proper, correct and controlled wand motions and had began trying to help him pronounce the -gar- and the correct wand motions correctly but he just got angry, and red in the face then dismissive after she demonstrated it correctly. He had ignored her the rest of the class barring when she earned five more points for helping a Ravenclaw who was making a slightly off flick. The Ravenclaw girl had informed her he had started sneering at her back after his feather exploded but she didn't pay attention to it. Then after the class ended he goes and calls her names to his pals while leaving, calling her a friendless know-it-all, making jokes about her teeth.

She didn't understand, she had only been trying to help him, why would someone insult someone trying to help you,

She only hoped had only been lucky enough that she was able to get the the girls lavatory without anyone seeing the her tears.

* * *

**October 31st,**

**Great Britain,**

**Hogwarts,**

**Great Hall, **

**Professors Table.**

After finishing her meal Minerva rested her elbows on the table and leaned toward her colleague"Filius, I was wondering if you could share any news about one of my cubs."

Filius looked up from a teabag he had set to soak, "Oh, this is a rare Minerva, did this student wrong?"

"No, no. Nothing wrong, just curiosity. A muggleborn, Hermione Granger, I was simply wondering how she was was performing."

At the mention of Hermione the short professor perked up, "Oh, Ms. Granger. Well she is doing quite well, one of the best of her class if I dare say so."

He frowned momentarily, "I do wish though that she had been sorted into my care though. Its unfortunate but that girl likely has more brains than the rest of her Gryffindor year mates combined. No offense intended, of course but the others, the boys especially just don't take enough care and I had to dock one lavendar brown points for painting her nails." Filius shook his head sadly, "Kids these days just aren't the same as in our day."

Minerva nodded sadly, "Yes, children these days just aren't what they used to be, to soft they are."

"Hehe, Well they can't all have exciting experiences as we did as younglings," he chuckled. "But back to the point of Miss Granger though." Filius checked his tea bag as he tried to find his words, "She's smart, likely any of her teachers will tell you that. But, and I mean no offense to your cubs Minerva, I get the feeling she is being dragged, for lack of a better term down, by the studying habits of those around her. Or lack thereof."

Minerva pursed her lips in annoyance and glared at her college, she didn't like what he was implying. "And you havent mentioned this at the meetings why?"

Filius shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took a sip of his tea, "You know I don't like speaking ill of the students, but since you asked," he shrugged.

"And if I were needed to call any of my cubs to heel?"

Filius thought for a moment, "The Weasley boy and Brown, there likely the worst about it. The other students are fine for the most part, over and under enthused but learning and Brown is likely just distracted by other things around her. Its Weasley thats the problem, "Filius sighed, "In comparison to his brothers its like the boy tries to not succeed." He nodded to himself, "Even just this morning Miss Granger attempted to help him but he just insulted her. The young girl seemed quite upset but she ran off before I could ask her to stay back."

Minerva frowned and turned to look at her table, trying to find the object of her conversation. She spotted the youngest weasley due to the void of students around him. With her keen eye sight she was able to see the boy was stuffing his face like an animal, shoving everything in his reach onto his plate. She would have to have words with him about his eating manners and maybe a Firecall to Molly. She turned and started to re-examine the table in search of Ms. Granger but before she found her the doors to the great hall burst open and Quirinus staggered in, he was unkempt and his turban in disarray.

"TROLL, TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS," he yelled. "Thought you ought to know." Then he collapsed forward in a dead faint and the tables erupted into chaos.

* * *

**October 31st,**

**Great Britain,**

**Hogwarts,**

**First Floor Girls Lavatory.**

She had sat there in the stall crying for a while not really knowing how long, but it was the smell that broke her out of her spell of self pity. It had been like smelling combination of that cabbage she had left out in the sun a while back and her fathers socks after he had been tending to their garden all day, two smells that were simply foul on a number of levels but then multiplied by a decade of unwashed body odor. "Wh-who's out there, he-hello", Hermione quietly called, 'Oh, dear lord that smell, just awful, her eyes had even begun to water slightly, surprising her that even after crying all her crying she still had some tears left. "Maybe the Weasley Twins used an extra potent dungbomb on some poor Slytherin girl, she unwrapped her arms from around her legs and quietly unlatched the door. Sure some of them were just awful like that Malfoy ponce or that one that looked like a pug but no proper girl deserved that, she peeked her head out of the stall.

It took a second for the logical part of her mind to comprehend what she was seeing, 'Big, easily four and a half meters, that leathery grey skin and those Dumbo ears, it has to be a mountain troll'. It was strange, she could see almost every detail of the beast, that would have been the adrenaline kicking in and altering her perception, she had read about it in an article about soldiers while under fire. Its' yellowed whiskers, mottled lumpy skin, a coarse vest of some animal with splotchy brown stains splattered across it. But it was the eyes, the beady black eyes that told her she would die by a creature a stupid as a potato or the club it drug across the stone floor, for some reason that just made her angry.

Then the information of what she saw and what she had read, in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, started connecting in her mind and she unconsciously began calculating her odds of survival. 'A Class Four Magical being, slight magical resistance, bad eyesight but offset by a good sense of smell and hearing', Her thoughts were now just rattling off what she had read about them beyond her control or notice, 'Carnivorous with a preference to raw meat; extreme caution advised if encountered, chance of living through the next 5 minutes…..' she gulped 'Low'.

Ever so slowly she pulled her head back into the stall and started to close the door, surprising herself at their steadiness, 'Almost there, almost there', then it happened. 'A squeak, a bloody squeak from an un oiled door hinge and now I am going to die because that miserable Caretaker Filch couldn't do his job, she was going to die without accomplishing anything of meaningful worth in my life', Hermione thought, furious at the situation she was in.

She stilled, her fear locking her in place when she heard the ugly, smelly, mass of flesh and bone and muscle move, shift its weight, the stone floor giving an audible cracking of shifting masonry. Hermione waited for a few seconds as she heard the troll doing something with the lou's main door and let out a quiet was to quick, a cracking popping sound like nuts in a wet towl, a rush of air, a roar, the shattering of flimsy and ill maintained wood and she heard a piercing scream, then black.

* * *

**October 31st,**

**At Sea,**

**Ret Pill,**

**Highest Most Walkway.**

Hadrian stared out at the sea from from his relaxed position on the railing, on the uppermost walkway. A shrill ringing from the egg timer in his pocket and he turned back to the days maintenance assignment. Painting the container watch chairs, a minor thing really just one that had never been done correctly. There wasn't enough leftover paint for this so a quick trip down to the engineering compartment got him a can of mystery paint number four; a mixture of old paint rementants that when mixed together became a rather unappealing shade of reddish brown. But it got the job done and the chairs had been painted and would likely never need to be painted ever again as he applied the sixth coat to the port side chair, the final coat of the day.

A month, almost an entire month he had been on this ship and he had hardly noticed. He would likely have not noticed if Veno hadn't given him a bag of candy the day before. A Halloween present he had said, neither Harry nor Hadrian had ever had halloween candy before. This however had also sprung up the question of what the crew did for the holidays? So he had asked without hesitation, long were the days of quietly obeying orders without question, long gone were his days with the Dursleys.

\-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-\

**The Previous Day.**

Veno's answer was simple, "We Gamble." But then he elaborated, "See due to the eclectic nature of our illustrious crew and schedules the holidays are a bit of a crap shoot. We do however celebrate the big four."

Hadrian looked at him incredulously. "The Big Three," he asked.

"Yeah, the big four, well at least thats what ive taken to calling them." Veno held up three fingers and counted them off, "Theres Mid Winter, New Years and Mid Summer. Mid Summer and Mid Winter are the solstices and the New Years is New Years. Its one of the few holidays thats likely recognised by most of the world as it can pertain to business and governments. As for the rest," Veno waved his hand dismissively," there are probably several to the day, way too many to bother with so we just mark a few days off on the calendar as easy days."

Hadrian frowned, he had understood generally what Veno had said but one thing was still nagging at him. He had heard of gambling before from snippets on the telly but couldn't imagine what it was. But again he wasn't with the Dursleys anymore so he had no fear of reprisal for his curiosity. "But what's gambling?"

This had caught Veno by surprise but he had donned an expression of understanding soon after, "Gambling is-," he had waved his hand in the air trying to find the words. "They are games of chance, wagers are made with things of value and more often than not, money. It can be rewarding if you win but it can also be agonising to lose. Its fun though, I got a book that can teach you how to play a lot of the games, I used it while on my travels." He snapped his fingers and poked Hadrian in the shoulder, "I tell you what, we finish up here and I can get it for you."

Hadrian smiled and with a renewed vigor had soon finished his assigned task, eager to learn about something new. And after he was given leave he read about how to to gamble late into the night.

\-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-\

As Hadrian scooped and stacked his new found piles of chips he had to wonder just who had written that book Veno had given him. Somehow after reading through the book the previous night in one go he had been able to take most of the guys at the table to the bank.

Incidentally giving him the largest pile of chips at the table and if the the inquisitive and irritate glances he was getting were an indication it was time to cash out. He would have liked to stay longer but something Venos book had said repeatedly was to quit while you were ahead, so thats what he did. Though it was not without much consternation and moans of anguish from the other crew members. Particularly those whose money happened to now be in his possession. Hadrian now almost felt guilty as he counted out the bills that Veno had exchanged his chips for and slid the wad currency into his pocket, almost.

\-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-\

As the galley hatch shut with a clang multiple sets of eyes snapped toward Veno who silently shuffled cards for the next hand and obliviously ignored the glares being sent his way.

"What is the fuck, Veno, how kid clean us out?" Olof asked as he sadly eyed his diminished pile of chips, not single black one in the bunch. "You say he was newbie, to go easy"

Veno shrugged nonchalantly and started dealing out the next hand, "Dunno, beginners luck I suppose?" Inwardly of course he knew different, the book he had passed on the the kid had belonged to his grandfather, one of the few worthwhile things that wasn't money or property that he had inherited from him through his mother. Veno hadn't met the man, but from hazy stories told by his mother and notations in the book he could tell the old codger had been an absolute cardshark.

Veno had figured lil' Adrian could do well with it, he eyed his relatively intact stacks of ships and compared it to the others on the table warily. He just hadn't figured the kid would get this good so fast. Thankfully he had been able to spot what the had kid been playing and pulled out early, the problem now was that he was the juicy tuna in a school of starving sharks, damn punk.

* * *

**October 31st,**

**Great Britain,**

**Hogwarts,**

**1st floor.**

"_RRRHHAAAHHGGG"_

Minerva slowed to a stop in an intersection of corridors as a roar that had certainly not come from the dungeons reverberated down the hall's. That wasn't good as it meant the troll wasn't confined. Acting quick on that thought she palmed her wand and whispered, "_Point me, Troll_." The wand spun momentarily like a broken compass on a top before it halted in midair and locked into a single direction, down the left corridor. Without further delay she started running down the corridor, silently she transfiguring her robes into a close fitting cardigan and cackies as she made her way. Not her best work but any any stretch but it was definitely better than having something she could trip over in a fight.

Stopping at another intersecting corridor to catch her bearing and her breath she recast the direction sharm. 'Still on the right path,' she thought. Casting a silencing charm on her shoes Minerva crouch ran down the corridor. Halfway down the corridor she slowed as a fetid stench assaulted her senses, quickly as she could whist being silent she peeked around the corner of the corridor. A flash of greyish flesh and a resurgence of that awful stench all but confirmed the presence of the creature. It was shuffling gait of the beast and crunching of porcelain from the lavatory that told her she would have all the necessary material to take it down. By Scáthaigh she hadn't had this much excitement in far too long, the thrill of combat, the excitement of battle.

From the corner of her eye she saw a blur of color and shadow that crept along the wall and up to the shattered door frame of the lou. MInerva leveled her wand on the unknown figure but lowered it again when the figure de-disillusioned itself to reveal Severus. Absently she noticed how the potions professor was favoring the wall to support himself but pushed it aside, while looking him over though she met his eye's.

'_Distract and disorient it and I will finish it_.'

Minerva blinked as the thought passed unbidden through her mind before she scowled at the blatant use of Legilmancy, but nodded her assent anyways. Checking to see that the behemoth of flesh was turned away from the corridor she stepped into the open and her wand became a blur of motion and light. All around the troll the rubble that it had created in its wanton act of destruction was used as a weapon against it. Minerva smiled thinly, a cluttered battlefield always had been a Transfiguration Mistresses greatest asset. For from the debris that littered the stone floor meter tall spikes of stone, enamel, and wood rose into being. Whether or the troll stood upon them they rose or not, the beast's combined roar of rage with anguish was all the notice Severus needed.

Still using the wall as leverage he spun into the open, took stock of the scene in a second and cast ethereal blades of silver that cut through the trolls legs with little resistance. Cutting the tendons and ligaments down to the bone and causing the troll to fall upon MInervas previously transfigured spikes, puncturing it like a great pin cushion. Or a tomato, as the rapidly expanding pool of blood could be likened to. Cringing in discomfort Severus collapsed back against the wall and shied away from the ever expanding pool of blood.

Minerva was at his side, helping him stand and It was then that she got a good look at his wound, a wide area had simply been mangled. Skin torn in multiple places with several fist thumb sized punctures, "Severus, what in the bloody hell has happened to you?" She asked while gently helping to lower him the the floor.

Severus moan in pain as Minerva stretched out his leg and conjured a splint, "It was the dog, Albus sent me to to guard the corridor, Quirrell was already there. He used me to escape the mongrel." He gasped in discomfort as she ran her wand along the wound, sanitizing the wound and healing as much as she could.

She frowned, "So your suspicions were right, what do you-" Minerva stopped and turned her head back down the hall the echoes of several sets of feet approached and a minute later Albus, Pomona and Filius came running around the corner. There wands drawn and at the ready but lowered them when they saw the troll had already been disposed of.

As they approached Albus vanished the corpse and blood of the troll with but a casual wave of his wand and knelt to speak to them. But his attention was drawn to Severus's wound before he could speak and began casting several spells over the mess of flesh that had been a thigh. He grimaced as the wound only healed slightly under his silent ministrations, "This was caused by the cerberus wasn't it."

Severus nodded with a grimace, "The dumb beast did its job but missed its real target, it got me instead. Hagrid trained it well though and it let go immediately."

Albus locked eyes with Severus, silently conveying to him what had happened. "I see, we shall have to continue this later, we nee to get you to Poppy to take care of this before it begins to fester." He stood and cast a _Mobilicorpus _on Severus so that he was levitating at waist height for easy transportation and a _Patronus_, that sped away toward the Infirmary. Turning he addressed the other Heads of House's, "Minerva, Pomona, Filius go to your houses make sure all is well and tell your charges the danger has passed, we will meet to discuss this incident tomorrow at six in the lounge." He stood a bit straighter, cracking his back and smiled, "In the meantime, I shall deliver our Potions Master to the Infirmary. Good night."

With his departing words he turned away, whistling a jaunty tune that was out of place in the current atmosphere directed Severus's floating form with a finger.

The assembled group of professors stared after him for a moment before silently breaking off to check on their respective houses and charges. None of them Noticed the blood that seeped out from under the remains of a shattered stall.

* * *

**October 31st,**

**Great Britain.**

**Hogwarts,**

**First Floor Girls Lavatory.**

'It really was quite amazing how fast one could process stimulus when there was enough adrenaline in their body', Hermione thought. But this was just a minor thought, more an observation really, her main thought processes was focusing figuring out and trying to comprehend just how and when things had gone so wrong. She had expected to learn new things and exciting things, make friends, have fun. A new start where no one knew her as the girl who was a bookworm or called her the teachers pet. One thought that lurked in the back of her mind though she didn't want to acknowledge. She wondered if she could have ever expected or predicted that she would be spending her halloween bleeding out on the stone floor of the girls lou. Buried and hidden under the splinters of the former stall she had been her momentary shelter from the world. But she had thought these things only for the briefest of moments though before she ceased to think at all, adrenaline really was an amazing thing.

* * *

**Translations**

{English translation} : {What it is being translated to} : {Translated word or phrase}

No translations this chapter.

* * *

Authors note,

And heres All Hallows Eve, its very own chapter. A bit short I know but untill I can write the transition between september to october better its as it is. I also got a review saying the story seemed all over the place, if some of you readers could let me know what you think about that it'd be much appreciated.

Also in regards to a comment about the characters personality flaws, they are still kids, please bear this in mind. Hadrian is written more mature because his coping mechanism for the Dursley's was to become hard enough that he could ignore the abuse and in the process became apathetic in the process. This is being slowly worn away while on the Rett Pil but its slow going. As for Hermione being really pessimistic that may be my fault, i'll attempt to even her out later on.

An yes Mcgonigall and snapes scene with the troll wasnt an epic or a heroric battle but it was an assault meant to kill the beast as quickly as possible.

Also if you noticed and hermione's analysis of the troll was a little sherlockian then you would be right. I was watching it before I wrote this scene.

KiDz

P.S. Does it seem to any of you that I have a lot of cliffhangers? Im not sure.

* * *

**Character Rundown (Since this chapter is a bit shorter than usual):**

Hadrian Smith: Formerly known as Harry Potter, an emotionally damaged young man who now serves among the rather dubious crew of the Rett Pil

Hermione Granger: An intelligent girl with a slightly pessimistic outlook on the magical world and as of this chapter, in big trouble.

Veno (No official name known yet) Smith: A New Yorker with a checkered and similar past to Hadrian that wandered across the world before arriving at the Ret Pill.

Shen: A former chef from Hong Kong fleeing his past.

Sergei: The Captain of the Ret Pill, with connections to the underworld.

Andor: A young crewman aboard the Ret Pill and the one who spotted Harry's raft

Dimitry: A massive russian who can get rather irritable, he is the one who pulled Harry from the raft.

Albus Dumbledore: A man who isn't who or what he seems and has plans that are falling apart.

Minerva Mcgonagall: A witch that is tired but enjoys what she does.

Draco Malfoy: A boy who doesn't know when not to put his foot in his mouth.

Ronald Weasley: A boy who is full of want but not the will.

Nicholas Flamel: An Enigmatic figure that has his fingers in many pies.


	6. Chapter Five: Consequences

Disclaimer: The Author of this work of FanFiction does not own any of the copyrighted works used in this work of fiction, inspiration and ideas are drawn consciously ( and sometimes unconsciously) from many places. Including but not limited to TV, Books, Comics, World News, Websites, Politics and many others. This author does not represent the interests or opinions of the original authors of these works.

The primary Authors note for the chapters of this story are located at the end. For those of you (most likely among the majority) who do not read the authors notes either before nor after the bulk of the chapter, this is for you.

Constructive criticism is appreciated and I look forward to it, however if you wish to "Flame" please do so in a clear and concise manner so as I can attempt to fix the problem.

"Character Speaking"

"Character Reading Aloud"

"CHARACTER YELLING"

'Character Thinking'

'Character Reading mentally'

Character Narration

Magic/ Spell use or Quoting

Section or Date / Title

And now, I hope you enjoy this chapter, Of Fakes and Frauds

* * *

Please check out the below authors note as i'll be deleting it when I post the next chapter.

* * *

November 2nd,

Great Britain,

Hogwarts,

Headmasters office,

9:28 AM.

The man known as Dumbledore sighed deeply, his plans to trap Voldemorts spectral form as well as test harry potter had fallen apart catastrophically. When he had sent the half giant to retrieve the boy he had returned with the worst news possible. The boy was gone, the center key of many of his future plans gone, he had been able to track him somewhat but it had proved fruitless as the instruments and spells he had used to monitor the boy simply weren't capable of tracking someone across continents and certainly not the seas and now he had perhaps even larger problems.

Dumbledore re-read the letter fawkes had delivered just minutes ago. It was simple and short, blunt and to the point, 'I Warned You', it didn't have a sender but there was no other person who could call the tempermental Phoenix. Flamel, the immortal had far better information sources inside the school than he had thought. Flamel had warned him he would bring ruin down on him if any were harmed because of his plans, the young girl who lay in Pomphreys domain symbolised his failure in that aspect.

'Such innocence lost,' but in his defense there was little chance he could he have predicted that Quarrel would release a Mountain troll as a distraction. That would have been like ordering his tool to send a sending a panzer division to wipeout a farming town. Complete overkill, senseless violence and destruction, this wasnt like Tom at all. Well no, now that he thought about it it hadn't been like tom at all, up until the near end of the war that is. Before then he had avoided most civilian population centers and focusing his attention whittling down the ministry. That was until several months before his physical body was destroyed, he had become erratic, short tempered and if from what Severus had reported, cruel, using the Cruciatus as a reward for failure.

Tom had begun attacking civilian targets that he had previously stayed clear from, Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, Muggle population centers. He had gone from something of a revolutionary for Tradition and blood purity to a simple terrorist like the insane members of the French Resistance that would blow themselves up along with a Cafe or Bar just to get a single SS officer or the occasional Colonel. He had avoided places that would incite violence among the masses, tom had known that you couldn't effectively rule a nation whose majority populace wanted you dead. But he had thrown his careful plans to the wayside in preference of shear violence and destruction and as an ultimate rule he had avoided children, until then. Albus knew from experience that there was nothing that would cause one to take up arms more than holding there dead child.

And now because he had disregarded something like this as happening a young girl who had had a bright future ahead of her was likely to be crippled for life. Crippled because of his actions his in-actions, his failures. He would do his best to atone, but truthfully there wasn't much that would be of any value. He would ensure she could continue her education and personaly craft a replacement limb's for her, something like that of what he had crafted for Alastor during the war would do nicely. It was the least he could do, there were many things magic could fix but alas regrowing entire limbs was not one, sure there was skelegrow but without an existing framework for it to form inside the results could be disastrous. Interesting, but disastrous and hardly the thing a girl her age should go through

A quiet pop of displaced air announced the arrival of a House Elf, the man known as Dumbledore turned to the creature. It was nervous not unlike most house elves when they delivered bad news to someone, "Yes".

The elf bowed deeply, his long nose nearly touching the stone floors, "I apoligises for disturbing you's Master Headmaster but Mistress Healer Pomfrey wanted you to knows the Parents of the wounded, Missys Granger have arrived and are quites upset."

He waved off the contemptible creature, they were usually a bit nervous in his presence, likely they could sense something was off with him, house elves were pretty sensitive to magic that way, but it had been a fair bit more nervous than usual, that told him the Grangers had already seen their daughter. He hadn't wanted them to see her yet for this very reason, there would be no chance an obliviation would be effective now, not with a memory like that. He stood, bones aching in complaint as he rose from his his supremely cushioned chair. He grabbed several lemon drops on his way out, he would need there extra calming properties for this.

* * *

November 2nd,

Great Britain,

Hogwarts,

Deputy Headmistresses Office,

8:43 AM.

Minerva flicked her nail against the wax seal of the bottle in her hand, slowly opening it piece by piece. She wedged her nail under a chunk and broke it off with a snap, causing the chip to hit her in the face and flinched back in surprise as if she had been struck. With a heavy sigh Minerva set down the bottle and swept the bits of wax into a small pile with her hand. She had made up her mind. Hermione was stable, after far to many hours under Poppies ministrations, now she would be able to receive visitors and despite the fact that she swe would have loved to drown her sorrows, now simply wasn't the acceptable time. She had promised something to that girls parents, she may have failed in that promise but she would be damned if she didn't at least let them know what happened.

"Reparo," she murmured and the wax bits melted back into the whole of the seal. Minerva slapped herself several times to shock herself awake, now certainly wasn't the time for this. Jerking open her right hand bottom most drawer she dropped the bottle into a bed of wood fibers and slammed it shut. She then opened the center drawer and removed a vial of potion and downed it, making a conscious effort not to smell the foul concoction. Instantly she felt revitalized and rejuvenated, for the moment anyway, long enough to do her task. She stood and tucked her chair away before donning her traveling robes. With a practiced motion she transfigured her clothing into muggle garb, a simple sweater, coat and pants would do for this trip.

'I won't let ye soop this wan unner the rug ye damn Buftie', Minerva thought as she flicked her wand at her fireplace, igniting it into a burst of flame. Reaching up to the mantle she removed a tin and tossed a pinch of floo powder into the flame, turning it emerald and safe to step into,

"Leaky Cauldron!"

* * *

November 1st,

Location Unknown,

Rett Pil,

Port Side Railing, 

10:43 AM

Hadrian took in a deep breath, tasting the smells of the port town. Brine, oil, fish. It all combined to create a somewhat unsavory scent, but as this was the first time he was able to be on deck while at port he ignored it in favor of examining what he could see of the town.

skip skip skip until later

"Think fast Kid."

Harian spun around to catch whatever Veno was throwing at him, he felt the sharp edges of a large envelope. He lifted envelope up to the sun and examined its contents. "For me," he said, a question and a statement as he took in the man who had been his pseudo guardian aboard the ship wearing his usual combo of blue jeans and a long sleeve shirt, this one tan.

"Yeah," Veno said with a shrug, "go ahead and open it up, your papers should be in there. Anton brought it back after he dropped off the first load of assholes."

Hadrian eagerly ripped off one side of the envelope and pulled out its contents, a birth certificate and passport. He read over the birth certificate first, Hadiran looked up at veno. "Hadrian Smith, riley, Smith. Was John taken or what," he asked sarcastically.

Veno grimaced at the jab, "Oh shut it smart ass, believe it or not people outside the US and the Isles aren't likely to think its a fake name. To them its just another foreigners strange last name, trust me, I use a Mr. Smith ID and nobody ever made a fuss."

Hadrian nodded to himself, that did make sense. "It also says here that i'm fourteen and was born in South Africa, why there."

"It's that accent of your's, there are only three places on earth you could get an english accent like that." He flicked off three fingers and Hadrian mentally noted he tended to do that alot, "England, Hong Kong and South Africa and since you couldn't speak enough Mandarin to save your life despite what Shen has taught you it comes down to south africa. As for your age I put it at that so It would match up to mine and The South African Government has looser child labour laws."

Hadrian furrowed his brow in confusion. "What did you mean matchup to yours," he asked

"Sixth line down, I hadnt thought you would miss that."

Hadrian re-examined the document until he found it, 'Father: Veno Smith, Mother: Arabella Nostranga.' "I suppose that makes sense," he said. But who the hell is Arabe-" Hadrian checked the paper again," Arabella Nostranga?"

Veno shrugged, "Dunno, my guy probobly just bullshited a name most likely or took one out of a phone book. Does it matter?"

"No," Hadrian shook his head, "not really." He flipped open the passport and looked through it, checking his picture and details. He closed it examining the leathery green cover, rubbed at a splotch of coffee and worn edges. Hadrian tried to say what he thought nicely but failed, "This thing looks like shit," he said bluntly.

Veno chuckled and snatched the passport out of his and to flip through it, "It's supposed to look like that, it looks authentic." The man dug his hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out his own passport, tossing it to him.

Hadrian examined the passport, a South African one as well and just like his this one was roughed up fairly well if more so. Creases, stains and more than a few worn thin parts covered it. He swapped the passport back with veno.

"So," Hadrian looked up at Veno and smiled, "this means I can go to shore now?"

Veno smiled back, "Yep," he rubbed his hands together and looked over Hadrians shoulder toward the town, "as soon as Anton gets his fatass back here, whenever that will be."

* * *

November 2nd,

Great Britain,

Hampstead,

15th Lyndhurst Rd,

8:52 AM.

"Clack, Clack, Clack,"

Gregory sighed in exasperation and turned the page of his newspaper, "Do you want to get that?"

Jean snorted dismissively and peeled open Hermiones latest letter, "Not particularly, I am rather comfortable right here." Jean smiled slightly, "How about you?"

"Clack, Clack, Clack"

Gregory lowered the top half of his paper and stared across the yard at the back door to the house, "I don't think they're going away."

"Clack, clack, clack."

"You may be right, that is one persistent salesman," Jean noted absently as she read Hermione's letter. "Huh, Hermione thinks that stupidity may be an inherent trait among those raised by magicals."

"Clack, Clack, Clack, Clack, Clack, Clack."

"I wouldn't doubt it."

"Clack, Clack, Clack, Clack, Clack,"

Jean slapped the letters down on the table and stood up, nearly toppling her chair over in the process, "THATS IT!" She exclaimed and stormed toward the house.

Gregory grinned, "Thank you dear."

Jean grinned and swung her hip exaggerated and called back, "Que diriez-vous

embrasser mon cul!"

"HAHA, Gregory barked, "I may just take you up on that! He called back at her.

Jean smirked and swung her hips a little extra before jerking the back door open and made her way as calmly to the door as she could, trying to calm her somewhat irrational anger. That failed though when the knocker rapped sharply against its plate again. "I'M COMING, I'M COMING," she yelled. 'This had better not be some blaise salesman,' she thought and opened the door with a forced smile but it fell when she saw who was waiting.

"Professor Mcgonagall," she said stiffly as she took in the woman, "please, come in. What can I do for you, tea or coffee perhaps?" Jean grimace internally, the woman looked horrible with deep dark bags, bloodshot eyes and just a heavy overall weariness to her.

"Im sorry but I now isn't the time for that, Mrs. Granger." Minerva, tried to stand a bit straighter and told herself there was no time to be pussy footing around. "I am afraid there has been an incident at the school, your daughter was hurt badly."

Jean froze, with each of her words it was like an ice cold dagger was being sunk between her ribs. "What did you say."

Minerva turned her gaze downward for a moment, "Last night, there was an incident. A dangerous creature was somehow-" A rough pull cut her off and she was now staring into the enraged eyes of Jean Granger, the mother.

"I had better have misheard," Jean swallowed thickly but kept going. "The last time you were in this house you forced us to send our daughter away to your school. A school you said was the safest place in BRITAIN!" The sudden sound of the back door opening and quick footsteps pounding down the hall distracted her and she shoved the elder woman away in disgust and anguish.

"Jean," Gregory stopped and glanced at the pair warily. He touched his wife's arm slightly and glanced at the other woman, "What is it, Jean." He looked at Mcgonigal angrily, "What happened, what did you say!"

"She said there was an incident with Hermione, that she got hurt," Jean mumbled, the temporary surge of anger and its withdraw leaving her in a haze.

Gregory's eyes locked onto the disheveled woman still standing on the stoop, "Take us to her. Now!"

Minerva stepped inside and shut the door behind her, "That is what I came to do Mr. Granger," she said grimly, "take my hand if you would and we can be off." She offered her left hand to him and after a second of hesitation grasped it with a slightly too strong grip. Minerva held her right hand to Jean, " ." Jean grasped her hand and with a great crack that rattled the house they were gone."

\-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-\

At the gates of Hogwarts an echoing pop of displaced air signaled the Grangers and Minervas arrival to the village of Hogsmeade. Minerva staggered slightly, Gregory grabbed a hold of the gates to keep from falling and Jean threw up. Minerva cringed at the vile smell, "I apologize for the rough travel, Its not often that I have to carry more than myself. Let alone two people," she waved her wand and vanished the Jean's breakfast.

Jean dabbed at her mouth with a handkerchief as Gregory helped her to her feet, "I don't care for your platitudes." She looked Minerva in the eyes, "Just take us to our daughter."

Minerva nodded in understand at their insistence, "I know, just, give me a moment." She turned and touched her wand to the weathered visage of a lion on the gate that was part of the crest. "Aperite mihi Hoguartensis leo magistrum iubeo domum," she intoned and with just a minor squeak the gates swung open for them. She turned to the Grangers who were now on there feet, although Jean was still a bit pale.

They just stared at the castle though, "This is Hogwarts? Its a heap," Gregory commented incredulously. Looking upon what he saw to be a crumbling and indistinct structure with warning signs plastered across it in multiple languages.

Minerva frowned at the insult, "What you see is simply an illusion, just a facet of the castle's defenses, nothing more, nothing less." She directed an arm toward the castle, "If you would please quicky follow me, I wont be able to open the gates without the keys if it closes."

Jean and Gregory shared a silent glance then followed Minerva through the gates and onto the grounds, moments later the gate clanged together again. After several minutes of walking up a cobblestone path toward what appeared to be a crumbling castle Jean was settled enough to ask the question. "What happened to her?"

Minerva didn't look back at them and kept walking ahead, she was just beginning to feel so tired now. "I am unsure on the exact details but wo nights ago, during the Halloween Feast a troll was able to enter the castle." She bit her lip harshly, "How is still being investigated, at the time the staff was notified all of the student body was in the great hall," she paused and bit her lip even harder, "at least that was what we thought at the time. As the beast was reported to have been contained to the dungeons we evacuated the students to their dorms and the staff went to hunt it down."

They were making a faster pace now as the cobblestone path had turned to a smooth surface of wide stone tiles, Jean looked up at the ruined castle as it loomed overhead. Getting closer as they approached, "On the thirty first!" Jean Exclaimed in outrage, "That was two days ago and what exactly was my daughter doing, if she was not at the feast," she asked harshly.

Minerva bit her lip again, this time drawing a bit of blood. She was in a girls lavatory on the first floor as to why I am not sure, but I assure you I will find out why and actions will be taken." She swallowed, "Unfortunately it was the same lavatory that me and a colleague encountered and killed the troll. During the fight however he was wounded and as we hadn't known any students were out in I focused my attentions on him." Minerva turned and met the gaze of Jean as they stepped into the clocktower courtyard, "It was only when I returned to Gryffindor tower and called roll that I found she was not among those from the feast." She flicked her wand and the great doors spread without a whisper or creak and she led the Grangers inside. "As for why you were not notified until now was to prevent the possibility of you interfering during her treatment."

As they turned down a corridor Jean forced her attention away from the now pristine castle and back to the Professor, "I see and how is she?"

Minerva turned and led them down the last hall toward the hospital wing and infirmary, "Poppy, our schools matron, tells me Hermione is in a stable condition. But he is being kept asleep though while she is healing."

"A matron," Gregory asked and scoffed, "why the hell wasn't our daughter taken to a hospital."

Minerva shivered at the thought of Poppy hearing that but kept walking, "I assure you, Poppy Pomfrey is one of the most skilled medi witches I have ever had the pleasure to know. Infact she is often queried by , our hospital, on matters and received job offers monthly. As for why she wasnt taken , you will have to take it up with Professor Dumbledore, The Headmaster." Minerva stopped at a set of large double doors and faced the Grangers, "Please bear in mind when you see her that magic is capable of many things that muggle technology is incapable of. Where a debilitating injury may cripple in your world, in ours it can simply be an inconvenience." She pushed open the right hand door and pointed toward a bed with a divider covering the view from the door, "Thats Hermione's bed there and please stay quiet, she can wake up but the spells she is under will put her back under."

Minerva stepped aside as Jean and Gregory rushed through the door toward their daughters bedside, she conjured a cushioned chair next to the door and fell into it heavily. Unfortunately she wasn't able to pass out before she heard Jean's slight scream of anguish and the bustling of Poppies quick feet.

* * *

November 1st,

Great Britain, 

Hogwarts,

Hidden Chamber,

9:22 AM

Deep in hogwarts castle, in an area only one a great as his lord could access, he begged for forgiveness that he knew likely wouldn't come. Quirinus Quirrell pressed his nose even closer to the mildew coated floor, " I can only offer my deepest apologies for failing you yet again my lord, p- please forgive me." He couldn't see but he could feel it, his master, as his incorporeal form coursed through the air like a shark did water. Quirinus shivered whenever his master approached too closely, it was like the chill of an approaching dementor.

Excruciating pain surged through his body in an instant, its origin, an mark of onyx black on his forearm, one that had remained dormant for years until he had gone in search of his master that previous summer.

"Indeed you did fail me Quirinus, but is not a complete loss,"his Lord said to him. On this night we have learned the nature what obstructs us for now, but you have still failed me gravely." Another wave of agony had his body wracked with pain, "Due to your, rash, impulsive ineptitude you have put the old fool on his guard. What happened to that girl is not a thing that even he can cover up, despite being a mudblood."

Quirinus convulsed again on the stone, 'Why had he searched out his master, for this?' "Please my lord, have mercy, I had thought with the feast, that- that there wouldn't be anyone in the path of the troll."

"You thought," the disembodied Lord sent another taste of his agony into Quirrell's brand. "It is not your place to think, it is your place to do as I command and you failed that." The wraith examined the shaking form of his servant, his only servant truthfully, perhaps he had broken him, another form of punishment would be needed. As he circled his servants from his gaze was drawn to the impudent fools hairless scalp, uncovered by that ridiculous turban. 'Yes, that shall do nicely', Rejoice Quirinus, you no longer need to suffer, I have devised a new punishment, as well as a reward for your service."

"Th- thank you my lord, for your-," he screamed, Quirinus Quirrell screamed, his head, his very mind was on fire, ripping, changing, but through the pain he heard his master.

"Yes, Rejoice my servant, for you shall be my instrument and I will be the hand that guides it."

And to his horror he stood, not of his own volition, but of his masters, with a flick of his wand two mirrors were conjured before and behind him. Deep in the dark recesses of his mind he wondered why he had searched out his master, for there in the mirror behind him. Not a reflection of his head, but that of his masters own visage. His Lord, Voldemort.

* * *

November 1st,

Great Britain, 

Hogwarts,

Infirmary,

9:42 AM

'Light and scratchy, but not particularly thin, sheets and the permeating scent of, what was that', Hermione thought, it smelled so familiar. 'Ah, yes of course now she recognised it, it was the citrus based cleaning potion that Madam Pomfrey used to try and mask, only partially successful, the various and sundry smells caused by potions and spilled sick', that and the faint scent of vomit that bled through the cleaner brought up an image of the hospital wing to her mind.

The scent of the cleaning potion had stuck in her mind because it had been one of the few that Neville had not been able to mess up, and it had made the potions dungeon smell good for a week.

So it took little difficulty for her to deduce where she was. 'Why would I in the hospital wing', she wondered, 'why in the world would I be here, did I have an accident'? Hermione extended her legs curling her toes and stretching her arms out, 'everything feels fine', she thought.

Then another scent registered, her thought process was slow and the smell was faint and a bit stale so it hadn't registered immediately, she was getting tired. It was like her head was filled with Toffee but she was sure the smell was of her mother's perfume, mixing in with the citrus based cleaner and almost masking it.

She gradually opened her eyes, breaking apart a layer of eye crust in the process to peer out through blurry vision.

She was just barely able to open them enough to see her parents at the end of her bed, but not hear she noticed. 'A charm must have been used to keep her from hearing she thought groggily'. But though she may have been unable to hear them her parents posture and faces were very telling. Her mother was tensed like a cat about to strike her face livid and her father was visibly enraged.

He was leaning forward, muscles in his neck taught, fists clenched and was yelling at an old man who looked fairly flustered with a red face, long beard and absolutely horrid Feucha robes, he looked really familiar but she it kept slipping from her mental grasp.

It wa getting harder to keep her eyes cracked now, her thoughts were getting slower and it was getting difficult to process what she was seeing, so tired.

But she noticed now that her father was probably more in the range of screaming, if the redness of face and the bulging veins in his neck was any indication and from the whiteness if her mothers pale clenched fist was any indication she looked ready to clock the older man in the face.

Hermione was instantly reminded of a time when she was little of a foreigner pervert who had gotten handy, her mother had put it, on the Underground during a trip. She remembered that they had been going to London to pick up some new books for her light reading. The memory had stuck because it had been the first time she had seen her usually calm and composed mother truly furious and enraged, so nevertheless at her young age the image had stuck. She had knocked him silly using a quick right hook, her knee and several extra sharp kicks until a bobby could arrive, leaving him a gasping mess on the train floor.

Her mother had taken her aside after that and explained why she had done that but the image of her mother as she had been at that time always stuck.

Now though, now her mother looked even more angry, but she was so tired, and against her will and effort her eyelids closed tight, her mind slipping back into the grasp of Morpheus.

\-/

(-}{XxOxX}{-)

/-\

The man known as Dumbledore stroked his beard and smiled genialy at the muggle yelling at him, unfortunately this only seemed to make him angrier. So he shifted from a genial expression to a somber one, internally he smiled as that did the trick. Now the muggle was only yelling as loud as he had been when he had started. Dumbledore passively analysed the man while trying to figure a way to fix the mess this massive cluster fick had become, how was he to have known Tom would do something like realease a Mountain Troll into the castle.

Suddenly he stopped mentally multitasking as he felt a pulsing warmth from his breast pocket.

He grimaced and nodded his head slightly, "Mr and , I understand what you are feeling I assure you but at this time I have another very urgent and important matter to attend to to. I am sure dear Poppy would be able to answer any questions you have." Seeing that they were getting angry again he just decided to abuse his privilege to apparate inside the castle grounds and just popped into his office. Quickly he strode over to a dedicated shelf of instruments and extracted two devices, one a sphere of ruby glass with wispy silver smoke, this one he had to detach from another. The second was a set of prongs that extended from the bastardized remains of a muggle typewriter, he grimaced as he always did when he even glimpsed it, crude and unrefined as it was. It worked though and that was all that mattered.

The keys of the device clicked and clacked as it translated the information the sphere contained into readable information. The device dinged, a happy sounding sound that he would have to fix later and spat out a bit of parchment. "Hopefully this one won't be above the bloody ocean, Fawkes," he looked around for the bird but didn't so it. Dumbledore grumbled and summoned his broom and the potter invisibility cloak from his living quarters. Checking the coordinates he donned the cloak and departed with a crack of air.

* * *

November 1st,

Location Unknown,

Rett Pil,

Port Side Railing, 

4:39 PM

As it had turned out they had to wait for quite a while, quite a few hours in fact, long enough that Shen and Dimitry had re-emerged from the ship and decided to hang out with Veno and him while they shot the shit and waited for the last ride. So by the nearly literal end of the day when the dinghy did get back to the ship with half a dozen nockered crewman there simply wasn't enough time to even bother going to shore. What he had gathered from the brief interrogation Dimitry had performed on the group was that Olof had accidentally dropped the key into the drink. It was only an unlucky fisherman catching flounder nearby that had saved them from swimming back to the ship. It seemed when he had gutted the fish he had found their key, it had only been the simple matter of walking over to the drunk lot of them and return it.

Hadrian just glared at the slumped form of Olof, "I think I will call you Olof The Idiot from now on." A drunken grunt and snort was his only response.

"Ah boy, no need to be mean." Shen nudged the inert form of Andor to roll him onto his belly, "That what PA system and old pans are for." He turned and opened up the hatch that led into the ships interior, "Now come assistant, let us make a delicious meal that these drunkards will not be able to enjoy. I am thinking curry, found some excellent spices in market this morning."

Handrian simply nodded, his irritation at not being able to go to shore already set aside and followed Shen through the hatch.

Veno looked around at the sprawled mass of stupidity and drunkenness, he just shook his head and snorted. "No gorram way i'm dealing with this shit," he said and headed inside, the guys on shift could fix this mess when they pulled up the dinghy.

* * *

November 2nd,

Great Britain,

Hogwarts,

Headmasters office,

2:29 PM.

Dumbledore roughly threw the Potter invisibility cloak into his chair, "Another dead end, why can that stupid child just find a single place and stay put!" Dumbledore jerked back sudden ball of flame over his desk signified the arrival of Fawkes, from wherever he had been. But as soon as the bird had appeared he was gone and on his desk was a sphere of bright silver. His curiosity gaining the better of him he leaned in close to examine the object, at close examination he saw it wasn't a perfect sphere. Indeed, six legs held the sphere in place, a bit like an inverted crown.

The man known as Dumbledore was about to cast several charms to determine the nature of the object when the spheres surface split and the protrusions that had been supporting the object stretched, becoming long spindly legs. The surface of the object rippled and the sphere re-solidified as six long legs protruded from the object, Dumbledore now saw it looked more like a spider. There was a memory though in the back of his mind, like he should recognise this. With a quickness that made it seem real the spider like object ran down his desk and up onto a guest chair where it sat for a moment until the sphere began to glow golden and a ghostly image of a seated man was projected into being. The man known as Dumbledore scowled at the image of the one man he had no desire to see at the moment.

"The Life and Lies, the man Known as Albus Dumbledore, an apt title don't you think", Flamel asked, "I'm thinking of making a series of them, I believe the next one will be on Rasputin."

"It seemed apt enough, it took me a while to figure out something that would make you heed what I say.

"You obviously dont care about your self, but you did care about my student, to the point of trying to become him in your grief, a sort of penance I would presume. But needn't, worry about this being released until your death though, you have your uses and whether I like to admit it or not you have done good things".

"So this is it, your final chance at redemption, this book I am writing can go several ways, some that would bring ruin, some that would bring hope". "It is your actions until you die that will write how this book ends, it will be your final legacy, try not to waste it. I will be monitoring your actions closely."

* * *

Translations

(I am using google translate for much of this so as many know it does not have the most stellar reputation of being correct. If the translations are so badly incorrect I would appreciate it and will add it in during the next story wide update (When I can get it beta read or read it with fresh eyes), thank you.)

Open to me Hogwarts, as the master of the house of the lion, I command it: Latin :Aperite mihi Hoguartensis magistrum domus leo iubeo

Cluster f#ck: German :Cluster fick

How about you kiss my ass!: French: Que diriez-vous embrasser mon cul!

Gorram : Firefly : God damn (At least this is what I assume it is)

* * *

there were also several references to one of my favorite authors, Scott sigler in this chapter. E-Cookies to those who can spot them.

Response To the Guest review (that I cannot respond to with a PM and am forced to add to the word count with filler),

Points of contention and agreement.

Yes it is a bit slow on the magic aspect at the moment but that will be picking up in the next several chapters. I didn't have much in the these last chapters becasue I had no interest in rehashing the magic of Britain. If you havent figured it out I am trying to create a more expansive world that isnt solely in The Magical World (Of Britain).

As to hermione being just as unknowingly bigoted as the others such as malfoy or Ronald (In canon) people are just like that. If you go on vacation or travel to another country without having much time to do reaserch on the customs then what do you think the odd's are that you will offend someone. (Example, ("That looks like shit on a stick," Foreigner to local. "That is my Peking Duck asshole!" Local to ignorant foreigner.

Ultimately I am not really sure what this reveiw was supposed to be about but this response will be deleted in a chapter or two so it isnt being counted as padding for my word count.

And P.S. Thanks for the review but I am fairly sure you didnt bother to read the initial authors note. In the future please be relevant and not make assu

KiDz

* * *

Authors note, (and yeah this AN is a total mess, I know)

Whew, a solid week (And a half, it seems I didnt add the chapter to the strory (oops) of editing and writing and now here we are. The first five chapters have now been alpha edited and wont be touched until either I can hand them to a Beta reader or I write a better transition scene for chapter 4 and the All Hallows Eve scenes.

And now to the other news, I have decided to switch from one chapter a week updates to one chapter per two week updates. Yes I know I already switched the update system once but there are several reasons, benefits and exclusions to this decision though..

1st is that durring the edditing week I realized that I wouldnt have had to do this if I had spent a little more time one them.

2nd is that I haddnt realized it but I have already gone through my outlined chapter stockpile. This is the one that has the chapters contents but not what makes it a chapter, Like sentances and the like. This longer release period will also allow me to work ahead.

3rd reason is that I am going back to work.

1st Benefit is that there will be longer chapters that hopefully wont need editing later on down the line.

2nd Benefit is that I am going to start publishing background info, Ive got It pretty much figured out and set up. there will be several (At most 3) background fics, 1 I have already mostly writen and ready to be published in its entirety but am waiting until I write and publish the chapters they relate to so they will be published in conjunction.

The other two are kinda like encyclopedias of background Canon for my HP fic universe I have come up with (there will also be a template on my homepage that can be filled out and PM'd to me so It can be published as a chapter with your name on it) the idea is that I have the background data already writen but only a portion of it will be published in Fakes and Frauds so I may as well use publish it so others could make use of it.

Think of these three like if they were codex entries from mass effect (hint hint).

The exclusions to this decision is when shorter chapters are involved, I know the feeling of waiting for an update and getting a dinky little thing so instead of publishing one short chapter two weeks after a long chapter I would publish the short chapter a week later after the long one and either release another short one another week after that or a long one 2 weeks after. Does that make sense?

But in short the main purpose is to bring my surplus of chapters back up to snuff, plan out future chapter, and rough out the period between the 2nd and 7th years. I have a ton of scenes between those years and after but there need to be more than just scenes to make a chapter. The pace I was writing at was also personally unsustainable.

I will also be posting a bunch of status stuff on my Page about the Fakes and Frauds as well as stuff about the side stories and the first side story should be in either today or tomorrow.

Hope you understand readers.

KiDz

P.S. Keen eyes may notice something about hadrians Scenes. Its something I just realized myself and will be going back and fixing it. Its very minor and I doubt many will notice it.

* * *

(Old) Authors note,

Thought that this chapter went pretty smoothly, I decided to add in a translation section and thats about it and there may not be a sixth chapter next friday as I am going to do some touchup work on the first four chapters. However, that doesnt mean the chapter wont happen on friday, the skelton and most of the meat is on it, but its kind of a jumbled mess of old scenes that are a bit out of date after writing the first four (Think a half born Man Bear Pig). It just all depends on how smoothly I can write it without forcing it and making it flow bad (one of the things im gonna try to fix in the edit. That and I am going to be further framing out my unfinished chapters. Cant really think of much more to say, soooooooooooooooo, Peace out.

KiDz

Oh and I am looking around for a Beta but it would be nice to get some input about areas I could use work in, it'd be helpful during my edits this next week, thanks.


	7. Corrrected and Edited Chapters Notice

Yeah um not an update this week like was expected but that would be because I found a beta to go through this story with a barbed tooth comb. Why? Well after stepping back and looking at it I realised the story lacked several important things that would have been addressed if pointed out to me in a review (HINT HINT!). But yeah doing some more re-writes, working on my homepage where you can now find info on chapter status, correcting upload errors that the FF document uploader formated from existence and working on more chapters. I have chapter 6 mostly done but its a mess and its kinda become three chapters (It was reaching 30K in length) so that it reads better (at least it looked that way.) But also it wasn't updated because I just couldn't finish several scenes at the beginning of the chapter (they may be transplanted into the first chapter though) and I put in the DMLE scene because It was pointed out to me I hadn't had anything (oops) with that.

So yeah, thats why. But there will be one next week, chapter 6 is basicly, almost, just about, 80% done.

P.S. this is also basicly a copy paste of the ch5 authors note # 3 to those that care.

also instead of these fake chapter updates things that are likely irritating people I will be posting chapter status on my page

KiDz


End file.

Harry Potter, Adventure