The Forgotten

Chapter One: The Last Resort

Disclaimer: As always, anything that you happen to recognize regrettably does not belong to me but to the most divine, J. K. Rowling.

Death.

It was everywhere. All around her. It was all she could see. Dead trees, dead grass, dead magical beings.

Dead people. Dead friends.

Death.

8:07 P.M.

She couldn't think, she couldn't comprehend the view she was being assaulted with. Her head pulsed harshly, the pain in any normal situation would have been unbearable. But she couldn't feel it now, not when the mental anguish threatened to engulf her. Physical pain couldn't hurt her any longer. She had long since gone numb to it. Scars marred her tanned skin. Some thin and ghastly and some long and seemingly fatal.

All magical wounds. Cursed wounds. Some long since healed and others still fresh with blood. While her body suffered, her mind was alive and thriving. It couldn't be broken. It was the one thing she protected like the sacred vessel it truly was. Her body, when broken, could be repaired for the most part. If her mind was destroyed, then all was lost. Through all the insanity, it was a miracle that she was still sane. If only in the literal sense.

She quickly flipped through the documents in multiple folders. Reading everything she could, consuming the contents urgently for the thousandth time. She wouldn't dare to take them with her on her final mission. Only one unmarked folder was to go with her. She would destroy the rest in just a moments time. She just needed to read one final passage, it was a reassurance that her mission was definitely the last resort. It was a small hand written paragraph of a slant and loopy writing of the late Headmaster Dumbledore.

It is of my own opinion that Tom Riddle wasn't born evil. He was sculpted by the unfortunate circumstances of his life and a heavy thirst to prove himself in a new world. Later on in his life, the Horcruxes I believe broke him completely. Lord Voldemort is soulless. I'd like to think that Tom Riddle was not. If only he'd been given the chance to be someone other than the person he was force into being. Tom Riddle could have been saved from his ultimate fate of transforming into Lord Voldemort. I failed. Perhaps another will not.

Hermione sighed heavily as she stared at the words for a moment perhaps too long. It was finally time and though she was more than prepared, she wasn't ready. Her entire world was gone but she still wasn't ready. She had nothing to live for in this world any longer. Yet, she felt as if she was abandoning the desolate land she was leaving behind. It was a weird and empty feeling.

"Get yourself together." Hermione whispered fiercely as she tugged on her hair. She honestly didn't have time to be getting all emotional. She knew that Voldemort was only moments away now. He had come to kill her. The last of the Order of the Phoenix. The last of the Golden Trio. The last Upholder of the Light Side. With her gone, he was truly a conqueror. There would be no hope. There would be no struggle. Only fear would remain and the Wizarding World would be led into a New Age. And Lord Voldemort would be the leader.

7:13 P.M.

"Albus, I don't understand what it is that you are truly asking of me." Hermione's voice was raspy and hurried.

"It wouldn't be right of me to ask anything more of you Hermione." Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes had long since lost their magical twinkle and formalities were thrown out, staring back at her was a shell of the man he once was. "We must hurry, we are running out of time."

The War on the Wizarding World was lost; they no longer stood a chance. They never even truly stood a chance. Harry Potter was gone, murdered just mere minutes ago. His lifeless body lay hauntingly on the floor of the last secret hideout of the Order of the Phoenix. Harry had done everything in his power to beat the monster that was now Lord Voldemort but nothing had ever been enough. You can't kill something that isn't human and Lord Voldemort was no longer of their divine race. He was a mixture of pure dark power and unmatched evil. No one stood a chance. Harry had tried and Harry had failed. And by doing so he had sacrificed his life. So many had sacrificed their lives in the name of the Light.

"I can't do this." Hermione sunk low to the ground and wrapped her thin arms around her knobbly knees. Even though she had promised herself that she wouldn't cry anymore, tears ran down her dirt marred face. Their tracks making her seem so feeble and weak. Everybody she ever knew was dead, gone forever. She would never speak to them, touch them, hear their laughter, they were all gone. The Mighty Dumbledore was dying himself, he was given a slow painful death. The poison running through his very veins this moment, destroying the very body it took sanctuary in. "Albus I can't do this."

"Hermione, I would trust no one but you with this mission." Dumbledore said sincerely. His heavy lidded eyes were shut behind his broken half moon glasses. His voice was soft and harsh.

"The time has arrived finally then? This is the last resort!" Hermione bit her lip nervously, the tears still flowing in anguish as she stared over into the empty eyes of her best friend. He lay but a few feet away.

"Yes, we have waited long enough." Dumbledore answered gravely, sliding down against the wall to rest on the dusty cobwebbed floor. "The Light Side is no more. You must go back to the beginning."

"How am I to fix a man such as him!" Hermione laughed brokenly. "I've read the information, the facts and the interviews all a thousand times. All I'm convinced of is that he was a damn good liar and a master manipulator."

Dumbledore reached into his tattered robes pocket and pulled out a rather large vial of the brightest blue potion she had ever seen. In the middle, were beautiful swirls of purple, the coils appearing magical. His eyes looked at it as if it was the only thing in the room. His ears had long since gone deaf to Hermione's fearful rants.

"Hermione, please." Dumbledore said quietly as his voice cracked. It stopped Hermione in her tracks, she had never heard him sound so pathetic, so very weak. "This mission is yours. You must change everything."

"Will it hurt?" She asked as she gently grabbed the vial from her dear Headmaster's brittle fingers. "I mean it's going to literally rip the muggle blood from me right?"

"It will only be physical pain. I assure you that you've felt worse, to you it might even tickle." Dumbledore said as he rolled his head over to watch her proudly.

"To the Wizarding World then." Hermione said bravely before putting the vial to her lips.

"To Harry." Dumbledore added gravely as he glanced slowly at his beloved pupil.

The pain was practically immediate and Hermione doubled over as her legs spread out awkwardly. She didn't scream. Dumbledore had been right. It was painful but much less then the Cruciatus Curse. She clamped her teeth down determinedly and gritted them together as she felt her body begin to change. She could hear cracks and pops as her bones seem to break and shift inside her, she might have groaned at that point but she tried to stay inside her mind. Her head burned as she was sure her follicles of her hair were changing. It could have been five minutes or ten hours, she lost track of time but soon the pain begin to lessen.

"Analiesa Morgana Dumbledore." She heard Albus whisper through the haze of her mind. Slowly she opened her eyes and met the now twinkling eyes of Albus Dumbledore.

"Albus?" Hermione forced out. She frowned, her voice was deeper than before and it was chilling. "I suppose it worked?"

"Indeed." Dumbledore said as he heavily gestured toward the ancient body mirror that stood against a broken wall.

Hermione stood shakily, taking notice of how much closer she was to the ground and gazed horrifyingly into the dusty mirror.

The dead brown eyes that should have stared back at her as they had for seventeen years of her life were gone. Familiar impossibly light blue eyes twinkled brilliantly in their place. Also gone was the light brown bushy hair she had grown accustomed to. She stared almost in betrayal at the now straight and thick black locks that dared to hang there. Long and very thin fingers reached up and stroked the now naturally tanned face while slowly moving slightly over the much fuller red lips. She watched entranced as the unfamiliar fingers slid over her thin nose, the nostrils flared slightly in a dangerous look and over the prominent cheek bones. She grimaced at the aristocratic look.

She dropped her hand and let her wide eyes travel down her still too thin body as she noticed that she had considerably shrank from her old height of 5'10 to what she assumed was barely 5'4. The change was maddening. She wasn't herself anymore. She wasn't use to the expressionless beautiful pureblooded face that gazed back at her. It hurt to know that her parent's muggle blood was now gone. She no longer had any tie to the two people that had raised her into the young woman that she was.

"Analiesa Morgana Dumbledore." Albus repeated. She turned around and looked sadly at the dying man, their identical eyes meeting in a general understanding. "My daughter."

"This potion, it takes away all of my muggle blood?" Hermione asked slowly walking back over to take a seat, cross legged in front of Albus. He nodded feebly. "My genetics, my connection to my parents it's all gone?"

"I know you are sad child but think of it as a new life." Albus tried to comfort her.

"Will you know me?" Hermione asked delicately, her heart aching lightly at Albus's soulful words.

He was right, this would be like a new life for her. Where she was going destruction and devastation didn't exist like this. Grindlewald was no Lord Voldemort. He had been too enthralled by the Deathly Hallows to achieve the chaos that Lord Voldemort had. It was for the most part a peaceful world, something she hadn't seen. The death of her parents had hit her hard but now she had a chance to give them a better life. To give all of the Wizarding World a better life. Perhaps maybe even give Harry a chance know his own parents.

"No." Albus shook his head sadly. "But I have provided you with the proper papers to present to me and I shouldn't find an error in them. I will accept you as my daughter."

"How can you be so sure?" Hermione asked skeptically, her round eyes landing on the hands of Albus.

Despite the cuts and dirt that marred the porcelain surface, she could see the skeletal form of long and thin fingers. She had inherited those very hands and it amazed her. She truly was no longer Hermione; she was no longer mudblood Granger, she was now a pureblood and two of the most powerful bloodlines now ran through her veins. No longer would she have to fight to find her place in the face of the bigoted Wizarding society.

She defined it.

"It will all be explained in the documents I provided in your trunk." Dumbledore explained, gesturing tiredly towards the trunk in the corner,. They had been through this many times. "You are now Analiesa."

"Yes I know." Hermione snapped tiredly. Only she wasn't Hermione anymore, she was Analiesa. She was now the only heir of Albus Dumbledore and Circe Le Fay, the descendent of Morgana Le Fey and the infamous Merlin. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She didn't mean to snap at her aged mentor. "Do I look like her?"

"Yes very much so." Albus's eyes ran over her face, taking in the features. "I put a few pictures of her in there for you."

"Thank you." Hermione attempted to smile but it came out more of a grimace. She was stressed with the thoughts of being the last hope for peace in their world. It was murdering. "I'm scared."

"You should be." Albus told her gravely. "The mission is most dangerous and you have a better chance at failing than you do at succeeding but we must try."

"I will do my best." Hermione said as she grabbed the cold hand of her Headmaster. "We should prepare the ruins."

"Yes we should." Albus agreed. "Once I put the last of my power in them, you will only have an hour to complete the spell."

"I remember." Hermione reassured him. "You will die."

"I died many years ago my dear child." Albus Dumbledore grabbed the shoulder of his student and identical eyes met in silence.

It wasn't much longer before Albus Dumbledore's body lay cold next to that of Harry Potter's. A large collection of ruins burned into the floor glowed brightly with his power. They were the last of Albus Dumbledore's amazing legacy. Silently a small woman stood fiercely between the ruins and the two dead men.

It was time.