Chapter One: Deliveries

Fair warning: this story is not for everyone. There will be bad things in it. Some people will die. Some people will murder. Some people will murder the people who die. Just so we're all on the same page. I don't condone murder, intense violence, arson, summoning demons, theft, or any of the other things in this story. They are bad things. That said, our heroes are bad people, so they will do these things and not give a Cornish Pixie.

This story will be VERY different from canon. Harry's a girl, if that isn't a clue that this isn't for the boxed in the book people, here's your sign. That being said, this story will also be realistic: so no, everything isn't always going to go in our heroes favor, Dumbledore isn't an idiot who gives himself away, Tom is a competent Dark Lord, and the wizarding world is going to be regressive, not asinine.

Thoughts are in Italics.

Movie adaptation to be canceled indefinitely.

Please Enjoy.

Minerva McGonagall was not having a good day.

Her position as Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts was taxing on a good day. Days like today left her wishing she could cozy down in her plush armchair with a glass of scotch and a well-written book. Hell, days like today usually end with me drinking in my armchair.

The old battle-axe sighed as she double-checked her chosen coordinates. The quill that could pinpoint every student on their registry had never been wrong before, but today was a day for double-checking. It wasn't every day that prospective students' were displayed as 'Gothenberg, Sweden'.

The return answer they had received had instructions to meet inside of Gothenburg's Central Station. Given the unusual circumstances of these directions, Minerva was unnerved. Not much could get under her skin, but learning that the hero of magical Britain was living in a foreign country counted as one of the few things that could.

She activated her Ministry-provided portkey Bless the Heavens they didn't want to know why she was going to Sweden and felt the familiar jerk through her naval as she disappeared in a whirlwind of color. Her feet landed squarely inside the Station's lavatory.

Her tentative steps through the hustle and bustle of people rushing to get where they were going bolstered her resolve. Discreetly pulling out her wand, she carefully murmured 'Point Me' and weaved through the crowd to the designated meeting point.

She stopped next to the Western entrance and scanned the crowd for her charge. No child was leaning on the wall, or sitting nearby, or walking through the doors.

As she turned in circles, at a loss of what to do (perhaps she had gone to the incorrect location?) she felt a tap on her arm. A look down at the offending personage revealed a smiling preteen tapping at her hand, her red hair spilling like flames over her face.

"Aunty!" The girl smiled as she flicked her eyebrows, willing the Scotswoman to play along. "How've you been? Can you believe mamma and papa let me ride out to you all by myself?" She flashed a brilliant smile and tugged on her arm. "Let's get some lunch, I'm starving!"

Two lunch orders later and the duo sat inside one of the numerous restaurants in the lounge. She eyed the child as she scarfed down her hamburger and chips with little regard to decorum or proper table manners.

The redhead paused and took a gasp of air before sipping her drink in three… four gulps. She exhaled and turned her pupils upwards towards Minerva's displeased expression.

"Sorry, Miss." The last remaining Potter said, sitting back in her seat to look her in the eye. James' infamous grin, the one he would flash when he wanted to charm someone, spread across the girl's face. "I'm not used to having a full meal like this."

Minerva scrunched her brow in displeasure at the thought. "Understandable, Miss Potter. I hope you can give me a reasonable explanation as to why you are in this condition, in Sweden of all places."

The girl munched through a chip and nodded. "I ran away." She admitted freely. "Found out about teleportation, so I decided to do some sightseeing." The bangles on her arms clanged musically as she wiped her hands on her trousers. "Have you ever been to Romania? It's beautiful in the winter," the girl fumbled with her pack and teased a pickle slice in front of her bag. A white and brown striped head emerged from the depths and gently took the offering. It spared Minerva a glance before retreating into its hideout.

Minerva stared at the bag before turning her eyes onto the smiling redhead. "Miss Potter," she started again. "How in the world have you become efficient at long-range Apparition at age ten?"

The girl shrugged, dipping another chip into a dollop of catsup. She kept silent far too long. Deciding how much to tell, is she? Her heart wrenched as the girl shrunk in on herself. A memory of Lily in the same position after a vitriolic Christmas card from her sister in year three bloomed behind her eyes.

"My childhood was not very pleasant." She says 'childhood' as if she is already beyond that stage. I wonder... "When I ran away, I simply imagined being someplace else, somewhere far away, and wound up over here."

"I've been moving around ever since. Romania, Spain, Italy, Denmark… and I've been drifting through this country for the last six months or so. What I want to know is why I'm written down for a place like Hogwarts," she asked, another bite of hamburger disappearing into her mouth.

"Your name has been on the registrar since before you were born. Your parents were both alumni, and we would be extremely pleased if you returned home to accept your position."

The girl and woman sat in silence for a few minutes as the redhead thought it over. "Would Mozu be allowed to come?" the girl finally spoke as the serpent slithered from the bag to coil itself up her arm.

Minerva squinted through her glasses at the snake, who ignored her. "It seems to be enough of a familiar for me," she acquiesced. "Our pet rules take exception in these cases."

The girl nodded and took a slurp from her drink. "I don't suppose there is a charity check I can take off your hands, is there? Moving around so often doesn't provide that much savings."

Oh, Merlin, she's crafty. First the snake, now this sneak? James would have hung himself if his daughter went to Slytherin. "Your family vault back in Britain should have more than enough money for a school year." The Scotswoman held out a rough key and placed it securely in the child's hand. "Gringotts shouldn't allow you to tear through the entire vault; I believe there is a limit to your academic withdrawal."

"How do I get to Gringotts?" The redhead asked as she scrutinized the key, holding it up to the light.

"It's in Diagon Alley," Minerva replied. Her fears of leaving the girl with her aunt and uncle as Dumbledore instructed all those years ago were slowly coalescing into a terrible truth, itching in the back of her mind like a dog scratching at fleas. "Miss Potter, you do… know, about everything in our world, correct?"

The girl's face turned to exasperation as she barely refrained from rolling her eyes. "Why do you think I've been traveling so much?" She raised a hand and pulled the red strands aside to reveal a thin line, a faded lightning bolt on her forehead. "This marker managed to get enough attention enough times for me to know the story."

The redhead let her hair drop and swiftly unpacked a plastic tin from her bag. Placing the remainder of her food inside, she sealed the lid and stuffed it back into her bag. "It's been a pleasure, Miss McGonagall," the child said as she slung her belongings over a shoulder, careful to avoid crimping Mozu's body. "I'll see you in September." The girl spun on her heel and disappeared into thin air.

Minerva closed her mouth and pursed her lips. That girl was all of James inside Lily's body, through and through. Holly Potter was going to be a powerful child and a force to be reckoned with, she could feel it in her bones.

Shaking her head, the Scot checked to ensure nobody noticed the disapparition and looked down to see the remainder of her sandwich had been nicked by the scoundrel. In its place lay a napkin with a scribbled 'Thanks for the meal' next to a lopsided heart.

It's going to be a long seven years.

Pomona Sprout felt like the day was becoming a bad one.

If you asked her, she'd much rather be at Hogwarts, in her greenhouse, working diligently on potting and pruning and relaxing. Playing around in the dirt wasn't for everyone, Pomona knew, but she found it soothing compared to any other form of stress relief.

And with precious little time until the school year started, the luxury of the empty greenhouses would soon be gone. Not that students who shared her passion were cumbersome to be around, but she didn't unwind quite as completely when students were nearby.

Maybe this girl will have such passion. She turned and began to walk up the path to St. Agnes Foster Center. The sights of dead grass and empty flower beds smothered that optimism instantly. Or maybe not.

She rang the doorbell and straightened the bottom of her pantsuit. Muggle clothing was abhorrent compared to the freedom robes provided, but Pomona did as was needed when scouting muggle-borns.

As one of the four heads of houses, she was (occasionally) tasked with introducing muggle-born students into the wizarding world. As a half-blood, she had the expertise that came through experience when compared to Minerva's proficiency through repetition.

The door opened to reveal a nun with a face sterner than even Minnie's stoicism who looked at her as if she were something icky that had been stepped in. "Who are you?" the woman's rough voice broke through the silence.

"Pomona Sprout," she said as she tapped her fingers idly against the lining of her pockets. "I'm here to inquire about a Hermione Granger?"

At the sound of the child's name, the nun's face went from disinterest to an attempt at a warm smile. "Miss Granger is upstairs. Are you a relative of hers?"

"I'm an old friend of the family," Pomona said. "Are you the sister in charge, Miss?"

"O'Leary," the sister clarified. "And our head sister is Sister Irene." She looked her up and down and jerked her head inside. "Come on and sit in the office. I'll bring her shortly."

Pomona followed Sister O'Leary into a back room to the left of the staircase. She thanked her guide as the lady walked away to locate Irene, and after her footfalls faded Pomona took the liberty of examining the office. The large cross hung on the wall was not unusual for an orphanage named after a saint, but the lack of any non-religious paraphernalia certainly was, at least in this age. Not a single book on the shelf was about children or for them, rather it was full of religious-based textbooks and what looked to be several copies of the Bible. Even the flowers potted on the shelf were a mixture of lilies and columbine flowers.

"Mrs. Sprout?" A haggard, elderly voice wheezed from behind her. She managed a partial turn in her chair to see another nun standing in the doorway to the office. "I'm Sister Irene," the nun managed as she slowly walked to her chair. Only after settling in it did she continue. "I hear that you wish to enquire about one of our charges?"

Pomona nodded. "Miss Hermione Granger. She was—" She stopped as Sister Irene slowly raised a hand. "Are you related to her?" The elderly woman asked in a tone that brokered no worming around the question.

"No," Pomona felt the plane of the conversation shift at her admission. "However, I am a professor at our boarding school. Miss Granger's parents have had her name down since the day she was born." The Herbology professor studied Sister Irene's face silently as she pulled the falsified documents from her briefcase and laid them on the table in front of Sister Irene.

The nun leaned forwards as she pulled a pair of obscene reading glasses to study the documents. As soon as she touched the paper, Pomona sighed internally as Sister Irene's posture relaxed and her eyes glazed over. Compulsion charms were one of the many, many illegal things a wizard could do to a muggle, but the Department of Education still saw it as a means to an end, if it helped get children into their world and away from the mundane one.

Sister Irene nodded. "The county will not provide funds of this magnitude." She murmured slowly. At her upwards glance, Pomona could tell the woman was trying to wrestle down a 'no' as her mind was weighed against magic.

"We have scholarships," She suggested, turning through the pages. "I'm certain that Miss Granger will be able to receive any necessary funds through it." A flashed smile did nothing to raise one on Irene's face. "She will have to return during the summer, I'm afraid, but her time at Thornwood goes from September until June."

Irene nodded and let out a sigh that sounded like the wind blowing dry leaves. "I suppose this school could work for her." The nun furrowed her brow as she rose from examining the documents. "Lord knows things didn't work out well with our teachers."

"She is a problem student?"

"A model student, at least at first," Irene gave another sigh. "Unfortunately, Hermione was a prodigy. Classes failed to stimulate her, and that would give way to several… incidents." The last word was uttered with all the reverence of a death omen.

"What sorts of incidents?" Accidental magic, no doubt.

"Her school reported to us that she threw her desk against the wall one day in her third year," Irene scoffed, disbelief ringing in her voice. "Hermione swore to St. Peter that she didn't touch her desk, but it's not like God decided to throw it at the wall, is it?"

"I suppose not."

"The other children were often bullied by her," Irene continued. "A whole range of incidents, some normal things mind you, but then she took a pair of scissors to one of Sarah Abarthanthy's outfits. And then, a little under two years ago, she set fire to the bedsheets one evening with a box of matches." Irene shook her head and rose from her chair. "No, the girl is not suited for a typical classroom. Perhaps some time in a fresh environment will get her head back on right. Come after me, and you can ask her what she thinks of all this."

The pair went upstairs and turned right at the banister as Irene led the way to the door furthest from the door looked more like a closet than a renovated room, a padlock barring the room from entry.

"You have five minutes," Irene said as she reached into her robes, her hand emerging with a small keyring. She undid the lock, gave a curt nod, and marched away.

Pomona took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Inside sat one lonely bed with a dresser table next to it. The room was illuminated by a thin window high from the reach of a child and the piercing light of an elderly lamp whose lampshade had met one too many moths in its time.

The dreary room was too small for any sort of comfort. The bed scraped the edges of the wall, its sheets tucked with precision despite the apparent lack of room to do so.

And in the center of it all sat the girl. The room gave no focal point besides her form. She sat with her legs crossed in a pleated skirt and white collared shirt. Her hair rested over her shoulders and demure expression on her face.

Pomona shut the door and wandlessly silenced the room. "Miss Hermione Granger?"

The girl bowed her head. "Are you here to adopt me?"

"I'm afraid not, my dear," She replied, a contrite smile on her face. "I am a professor at a boarding school in Scotland called Thornwood." The girl tilted her head. "You have been signed on to attend since birth."

Miss Granger's plain expression perked at her words. "Hogwarts, correct?" The girl smiled at the woman's shock. "I must congratulate you, professor. Anyone who can safely navigate through a conversation with Sister Irene has my respect."

"You know of Hogwarts?"

A thin smile formed on the girl's lips. "I know that any institution that sees fit to send a barrage of postage must have a deep desire to gain me as a pupil." The smile grew teeth and a cheerfulness that did not reach the eyes. "Of course, such letters sent to a facility such as this—by an owl, no less—is not exactly a way to get into my good graces."

Dear Merlin, Pomona paled as she weeded through the girl's insinuations. They wouldn't punish her for something like that, would they?

Miss Granger's laugh rang in echoes in her chamber. "Color up, professor. None of those letters were read by the staff members. After I wrote the first one to myself as means of a game, I simply erased the others from arriving and causing more trouble."

Erased? Perhaps she means she vanished them. So much for finding the missing owls. She grimaced. "I apologize for any trouble that we have caused you in this home, Miss Granger." The girl's smile shrank into a humorless curve as Pomona opened her briefcase and withdrew a copy of her acceptance letter.

Miss Granger accepted it with an open hand. "Where is Diagon Alley, exactly?" she asked as she placed the envelope next to her on the bedspread.

"Charing Cross. Find the sign for The Leaky Cauldron and ask for Tom. He'll get you across and into the alley." Pomona smiled. "If you'd like, I can arrange a day to come take you there—"

"Thank you for the offer, professor, but I'd prefer to go by myself." The brunette cut her off quickly. "Although, if you could do me a favor and make these papers invisible, or something along those lines?" The girl held up her book list, acceptance letter, and train ticket, all three freed from the envelope.

I never even saw her open the letter. Pomona shelved her thoughts and nodded. A tap from her wand and the papers glowed with brief blue light. "That was an aversion charm, Miss Granger. Muggles, that is, non-magical beings will be unable to see them now." The girl slipped the letter into her dresser and returned to the same position she had been in when she entered.

"And am I to presume that there is some form of scholarship fund available?"

"In Gringotts, our Wizarding Bank. Once you reach the teller, ask about the Hogwarts fund for the underprivileged." The girl nodded. "It was nice meeting with you, professor." She gave another humorless smile and shook Pomona's hand. "I look forward to having you as a teacher."

Pomona dismissed her Imperturbable Charm as the door opened. "And I shall look forward to seeing you in my class." She turned and walked past a dumbfounded Sister Irene before excusing herself out of that horrid building, unhappy with this glimpse into the state of the muggle world. A care home of hate and despair that might be raising magical children to fear themselves? That might be happening not just here, but all across the country, or the whole wizarding world?

Albus needed to hear about this.

Severus Snape was having a very bad day.

For some ungodly reason, he was dragged from his private laboratory in Hogwarts to 'fulfill his proper duty as a Head of House'. Why McGonagall couldn't complete this visit and the subsequent indoctrination from the muggle world to theirs, he had no idea. At least she hadn't assigned him James' spawn; it would have been too much to bear.

He only relented because of the name on the damnable letter. 'Ms. Daphne Greengrass, The Blind Tiger, Tyndall Street, Cardiff, Wales.'

The Greengrasses were an extinct Pureblood family. One of the few members on the Wizengamot's Dark Sect that weren't part of his old crew from the war. To think that they had a child somewhere, hidden away from the world, the muggle world especially… it was a miracle.

He examined the destination from across the street. A warded building meant someone was trying very hard to keep somewhere hidden, but the yellow neon boasting the business name beside a tiger's face did everything to counter that train of thought. What was more intriguing was the number of muggles who couldn't see the building. Content passersby walked between the shops on either side of the three-storied building without any glances towards the blazing street-sign, and only one man had entered the compound so far.

The man stepped out, shutting the door behind him. He gave a quick glance around and rose his hand to his nose in a motion Severus immediately recognized from his childhood at Spinner's end.

Severus quickly stepped across the street and rapped on the front door, ignoring the stares from the people around him. The door opened a crack and a small child with hazel eyes peered through the doorway. "We're not open yet," the girl yawned out. "Come back around seven."

"I need to speak with Miss Greengrass," He stated calmly, his mind running through the possibilities of the building's true purpose. What looked like a townhouse and was advertised as a bar could definitely hold a darker purpose inside. "It is imperative that I speak with her."

The eye squinted at him. "You aren't a bobby, are you?"

He frowned. "No, I am not. May I please speak with Miss Greengrass?"

"Astoria, go back to bed." A commanding voice sounded from the other side of the door. "I'll take care of this." The eye looked away from him before the door shut again and the chain was undone.

The door yielded to reveal the young girl in question, posed with a hand on her hip. Her short, choppy haircut was frazzled from sweat. "You're the Hogwarts representative right?" she asked, hand on her hip. At his nod, she scoffed and turned. "Come on in. And lock the door behind you!"

Severus did as he was told and followed the girl into a thin hallway. Peering into the door on his right, he saw a crowded mess of tables, their chairs resting on top of them. A bar counter stood against the far wall, bottles arranged on the shelves and countertop gleaming. A regular bar, placed under secretive wards? That muggle must have been here for more than that.

He hastened to catch up with his guide.

The room she stepped into was identical to the one he had seen. Chairs sat underneath scrubbed tables. Silent speakers hung in the corners of the room, and a muggle television played a football match from the corner nearest to the bar. He watched it for a minute before the image clicked off.

"Grab anything you'd like," said the Greengrass heiress as she tucked the remote beneath the bar. Despite the strong inclination to do so, he did not take the young lady up on her offer and instead took a seat on one of the bar stools.

The young witch rested her chin on her hands and leaned forward to rest on the buffet. "Are you sure you don't want anything?"

"No thank you," He replied stiffly. Greengrass shrugged and pulled a bottle off the shelf. The clink of glass focused his attention on the two liquor glasses she poured. She took one and rested her hip against the back of the countertop.

He cautiously accepted his glass and cleared his throat. "So… you are accepting your position in Hogwarts?"

"Why should I?" Greengrass plugged the bottle's stopper back in and raised her glass. "I think I'm doing very well for myself at the moment."

"You are a pureblood witch," He argued while she drained her glass. "And as a member of a house that was formerly thought to be extinct, your appearance is something that cannot be ignored."

The dark-haired girl studied his face for too many minutes of silence before nodding. She bounced off the counter, straightening to look him in the eye. "What does your school teach?"

"Astronomy, Herbology, Transfiguration, Potions, History of Magic, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Charms."

"No mathematics?" The girl snickered, raising her glass to her lips for a second time.

This is preposterous. Why act so against the idea of going if you are this interested in the coursework?

His mind caught up with hers. She wanted the truth. Rather than waste time talking around the point, she acted in a way to get the truth quickly. He took a short sip from his drink. Well played.

"Sounds interesting enough," said Greengrass. "What is a pureblood, by the way?"

"Wizards and witches whose parents are magical," he said. "Certain wizards believe that muggles, non-magical people, are an inhuman blight on the world."

"Were my parents like that?" Greengrass asked, with all the disinterest as if she was discussing the weather.

"No, they were not," Severus replied. "At least, they were not vocal bigots."

"And there are a lot of those in this… magical world?" Greengrass snickered at his discomfort. Mercifully, she dropped the subject. "What do I gain by attending?"

"Aside from education, Hogwarts provides food and lodging for the year. You can stay at Hogwarts during the breaks if you wish."

"And how would I pay for the tuition?"

"The wizarding bank, Gringotts, will allow you to access your family vaults. Though the goblins will likely want to test your blood before they give you the key."

"You're saying I'm rich," Greengrass asked as she played with the rim of her glass.

"Your family was very old money, yes."

"Then I suppose I must accept my position." She said as she rapped her fingers on the bar. "However, I do have some… conditions."

"I will not attend your school unless there is someplace safe for my sister to stay." At Severus's lack of an objection, she continued "I will personally ensure that she is being well treated in this place." Greengrass spread her teeth in a wide smile, showing off just enough to be unsettling.

"Does that sound agreeable to you?"

He nodded slowly. "I believe I know just the person. She is another old money family member." He hesitated. "I'm sure she would not object to tutoring you in pureblood behavior and things of that nature."

Greengrass gave a false laugh. It rang loud in the quiet showroom. "You wound me, sir. I'm certain my time in this world has given me plenty of skills in etiquette." She grinned darkly at him. "Bring your contact by here tonight at five. My sister and I will meet you outside then." She stretched out her hand. "Agreed?"

He sighed. It would be a chore to get Narcissa on board with this deal so quickly, but she would be convinced. She was not one to resist temptation, and having a hand in the return of the Greengrass bloodline to wizard-kind? That was delectable bait. No self-respecting pureblood would let the opportunity pass by.

He rose and withdrew her envelope from his coat pocket. "Your letter. We'll be outside at five o'clock tonight."

Severus felt her eyes watching him as he walked to the hallway and out of the building. As soon as he was beyond the range of the wards, he turned on his heel and vanished with a crack. He had some persuading to do.