A Flame Can Ignite A Wildfire

Summary:

Harry and Hermione are killed during the final battle and are sent back to the Marauders Era, reborn as Hermione and Harry Flamel, children to Perenelle and Nicholas Flamel. Destiny and Fate are thrown into chaos, seeing as the twins have changed everything by simply being born. After all, they say a flame can ignite a wildfire.

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"The phoenix hope, can wing her way through the desert skies, and still defying fortune's spite; revive from ashes and rise."

-Miguel de Cervantes

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AUTHORS NOTE:

this has been bolded, italicized, and underlined because this is very important. some of you may have read this story before on TheaLaurel, and may accuse me of stealing this story. I have not and will not ever steal anybody's story. TheaLaurel is my other account and if you go to that account's bio, you will see i have stated all my published works will now be on this account. just to cleat things up. :)

Prologue

"Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed." Hermione's breath caught in her throat, an involuntary shiver running down her spine at the sound of Voldemort's voice echoing through the walls of Hogwarts.

"Give me Harry Potter and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight."

Knowing Harry, he would try and do something stupid and noble, like turning himself over to Voldemort. Once, on a summer night, Hermione has sworn underneath the stars she would always stick by and protect Harry, who was her brother in everything but blood. She knew Harry would turn himself in. Making up her mind, Hermione decided that if Harry was dying tonight, she was dying with him.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins, and she paid no heed to the people surrounding her, intent on one goal and one only. Find Harry.

She burst into a jog, racking through her brain, trying to remember where she had last seen him. Was it the Room of Requirement? She paid no attention to who was in front of her, and felt herself smack into a hard chest.

Drawing her wand, she looked up and saw exactly who she was searching for. Harry's face was covered with sweat and soot, an unexplainable look upon his face. She had only seen the look on his face when Sirius was killed, a look of defeat. Peering around, she spotted a conveniently placed broom closet right around the corner; and without a word, she dragged Harry inside the closet.

Closing the door and muttering a couple well-chosen spells ,she turned around to face Harry. She already knew what he was going to do, and knew that no urging, begging, or pleading would sway him from his decision.

"I have to, Mione," Harry whispered, voice tight. The only person she allowed to call her Mione was Harry.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and swallowing, trying to push the lump back down her throat. Without a word, she burrowed her head into his chest, and smelled the familiar smell of broomstick polish and spring rain. The scent was just so Harry. She felt him wrap his arms around her, and both just stood there entwined in each other's arms, taking comfort in knowing the fact they were not alone.

"I'm coming with you," Hermione said, her voice muffled by Harry's chest. He pulled back harshly, and glared at her. "Like hell you are." Hermione's face set into determination, and her voice had an undertone of steel. "I'm coming. I have no one left except for you now, and everyone else I care about is gone." Her voice broke on the word, and she felt tears sliding down her cheeks.

Harry nodded and hugged her again. Both shared a bond no one could break, as if they were twins.

When Harry was troubled, confused, or hurt, he would immediately find Hermione, knowing she was his lighthouse, always ready to point him in the right direction.

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Holding hands, and under the invisibility cloak, both crept through the Great Hall, intent on making it to the Forbidden Forest. Hermione glanced around the hall, heart clenching inside her chest. The Great Hall, once so cheery and filled with warmth, was now the perfect photo of grief. There was Parvati Patil, who was screaming her grief out to the heavens, hunched over her twin, Padma Patil's body.

Colin Creevey was laying on the ground, eyes devoid of life, with death having grasped its icy fingers upon him. Hermione, with a lump in her throat, blinked furiously when she saw the Weasley's hunched over the prone figures of Ginny, Ron, and Fred. Ginny had been killed by Bellatrix, Ron had been brutally murdered by Lucius Malfoy, and Fred was killed by Rookwood. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat.

The Golden trio was no more. The two that were still remaining would be no more soon as well.

Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulder, knowing she needed the comfort at the moment. She willingly leaned into him, and as they walked over the Great Hall, both allowed their minds to wander, knowing this was one of their last moments together as brother and sister.

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As they neared the Forbidden Forest, Hermione surprisingly was not panicked. She felt peaceful. She knew what she had signed up for when she began packing for the Horcrux Hunt, and now, it felt fitting she die with her brother.

When she thought of her parents, her eyes filled with tears again. They would never again remember they had a daughter named Hermione Jean Granger, daughter to Jean and Dan Granger.

I didn't matter. They were in Australia now, where it was safe for them. Harry suddenly stopped, and Hermione accidentally ploughed straight into his back. She felt him stiffen.

"I thought he would come," said Voldemort in his high clear voice, his eyes on the leaping flames. "I expected him to come." Harry turned, kissed Hermione sweetly on the cheek, and whispered, "I'll see you on the other side, Mione." Hermione nodded, and smiled at him. She didn't see any point in crying, seeing as they were already on this step.

This was a good death for them, perhaps. They had no one else here but each other now. Noble, even. Dying so the rest of the Wizarding World would have a chance at surviving. She understood, when Voldemort killed Harry, Voldemort would become mortal again.

Harry was his last Horcrux.

"Here I am," Harry said, carefully sliding off the invisibility cloak so he would be uncovered, but Hermione was still carefully concealed under the cloak.

She heard the Death Eaters gasping, crying out, and even laughter. She knew, in that moment, nobody mattered except Voldemort and Harry. Both eyes were fixed on each other's, neither blinking or looking away.

"HARRY, NO!" Hermione, like many others, turned her head just in time to see Hagrid struggling while bound by ropes to a tree. The branches overhead shook as Hagrid squirmed, desperate to stop Harry from sacrificing himself.

"NO! NO! HARRY, WHAT'RE YEH—?" But with a flick of Rowle's wand, he was silenced and immobilized from moving or talking.

Bellatrix, Hermione noticed with disgust, had jumped up and was looking eagerly from Voldemort to Harry, chest heaving.

"Harry Potter," he said softly, as if crooning to a baby, "The Boy Who Lived."

And with a flash of green light and a wave of his wand, Harry James Potter was no more.

It all happened so quickly, one moment she was watching her brother fall to the ground, the next moment she was seeing Voldemort collapse to the ground, with Bellatrix bent over him, and various Death Eaters hurrying over to him.

"My Lord, my Lord," Bellatrix crooned to Voldemort, as if to a lover. However, Voldemort roughly pushed her hands off of him, and hissed, "Quiet, Bella."

He pushed himself up off the ground, and with a bang, pointed his wand towards Narcissa Malfoy. There was a small squeal of pain, and he hissed, "You. Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead."

Narcissa Malfoy, Hermione observed, didn't look at all like her normal, put-together self. Her skin was a rather greyish white, and her eyes had sunken in, looking as though she had aged ten years in a matter of months. But to be fair, she was sure after the disaster at Malfoy Manor Voldemort hadn't been the most lenient towards their family.

Hermione watched on, feeling rather calm as Narcissa hurried towards her brother, sinking down to the soft Earth, hands outstretched, perhaps feeling for a pulse.

"He is dead!" Narcissa called out to the watchers. She watched on as the Death Eaters celebrated by shooting green and red sparks up into the air with their wands, she watched on as they stamped their feet, she watched on until Voldemort opened his lipless mouth.

"You see?" screeched Voldemort over the tumult. "Harry Potter is dead by my hand, and no man alive can threaten me now!"

Hermione inhaled, once, then twice. She felt as though Harry was with her, whispering for her to have courage. "I wouldn't be so sure about that," Hermione whispered softly, however, Voldemort heard her. His heard turned around, towards her direction, where she just materialized underneath the invisibility cloak.

Bellatrix cackled delightfully, looking thrilled. "Potter's Mudblood, my Lord! May I..?" She asked, motioning to Hermione, who was still standing there with a pleasant smile upon her face. Voldemort, eyes fixed on Hermione, held up a hand, motioning for her to wait. "Ah, Potter's Mudblood," Voldemort hissed, "I will have fun breaking you, my dear… After all, if it weren't for you, Harry Potter would have been dead a long time ago."

Hermione, although a shiver ran down her spine, proudly lifted her head up and met Voldemort's gaze. "You're out of time, you shall soon be gone just like Potter… How does it feel to witness your best friend being murdered?" The Death Eaters cackled, delighted upon hearing about Harry's demise.

"Rather unpleasant," Hermione answered, taking a step towards Voldemort. "I suppose I am out of time, after all… Your existence was tethered to Harry's, did you know that? He was your last and final Horcrux. And now he's gone, killed by his own maker. You're just as mortal as the rest of us are, Riddle." Hermione whispered, watching as Voldemort's red eyes widened, looking rather afraid.

He began to laugh. The sound was unpleasant, a sound of mockery. But what he didn't see was the green bolt of light Hermione hurtled towards him, striking him right in the centre of his chest.

For a single moment, he seemed to know what was going on. Eyes widened, he fell backwards, with the ghost of a smile still framing his face. She smiled wryly to herself. How ironic. That the Dark Lord would die laughing.

Everything was silent for a split second. Then, there was chaos.

She didn't hear Bellatrix's broken-hearted wails, but instead focused her gaze on the green beam of light soaring towards her. Hermione raised her arms up, hair splayed down her back, eyes closed, a mockery of as if she was waiting for a lover's embrace. The bolt hit her right in the centre of her heart, and she toppled over.

Hermione saw her life flash by her eyes, and welcomed the torrent of memories, embracing it, even. This must what they call seeing your life in minutes when you die, she realized.

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"Are you sure that's a real spell? Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean it's the very best school of witchcraft there is. I'm Hermione Granger by the way, who are you?"

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I hope you're all pleased with yourselves. We could have all been killed—or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."

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"Me! Books! And cleverness! There are more important things—friendship and bravery and—oh Harry—be careful!"

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"Well, I don't know what you expected, Ron, but you—"

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"I don't think it looks like Grim."

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"Oh, what rubbish. Crookshanks could smell him, Ron, how else'd you think—"

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"Because I thought—and Professor McGonagall agrees with me—that that broom was probably sent to Harry by Sirius Black!"

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"I can't come with you, because I'm already going with someone."

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"Well…when I went up to Madam Pomfrey to get them shrunk, she held up a mirror and told me to stop her when they were back to how they normally were. And I just…let her carry on a bit. Mum and Dad won't be too pleased. I've been trying to persuade them to let me shrink them for ages, but they wanted me to carry on with braces. You know, they're dentists, they don't think teeth and magic should— look! Pigwidgeon's back!"

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"Don't be so stupid! The enemy! Honestly—who was the one who was all excited when they saw him arrive? Who was the one who wanted his autograph? Who's got a model of him up in their dormitory?"

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"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!"

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"You horrible woman, you don't care, do you, anything for a story, and anyone will do, won't they? Even Ludo Bagman—"

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"Harry, we're really sorry! You're absolutely right, Harry—I'd be furious if it was me!"

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"No. I told her to keep her big fat mouth shut about you, actually. And it would be quite nice if you stopped trying to jump down Ron's and my throats, Harry, because if you haven't noticed, we're on your side."

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"Well, yes. Otherwise, as you very well know, I will inform the authorities that you are an unregistered Animagus. Of course, the Prophet might give you rather a lot of an insider's account of life in Azkaban…"

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"Oh Harry, don't you see? If she could have done on thing to make absolutely sure that every single person in this school will read your interview, it was banning it!"

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"Fine. fine…let them see it, I hope they use it on you! In fact, I wish you'd invite loads and loads of people to come and see! Th-that would serve you right—oh, I'd love it if the wh-whole school knew where it was, and how to u-use it, and then if you annoy any of them they'll be able to sort you out!"

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"Oh, I've just escaped—I mean, I've just left Cormac, under the mistletoe.(…) I thought he'd annoy Ron the most, I debated for a while about Zacharias Smith, but I thought, on the whole—" (…) Yes I did, and I'm starting to wish I'd chosen him, McLaggen makes Grawp look a gentleman. Let's go this way, we'll be able to see him coming, he's so tall…"

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"I've got no plans to tell Ron anything about what might, or might not, have happened at Keeper tryouts."

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"Well…yes, So I was sort of right. Snape must have been proud of being 'half a Prince,' you see? Tobias Snape was a Muggle from what it said in the Prophet."

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"Mum…Dad, please forgive me. I love you. Obliviate."

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"But it was supposed to have stopped! Your scar—it wasn't supposed to do this anymore! You mustn't let that connection open up again—Dumbledore wanted you to close your mind!"

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"Because Snitches have flesh memories."
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"It belongs to Harry! It chose him, he was the one who found it, it came to him out of the Sorting Hat!"

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"Undetectable Extension Charm. Tricky, hut I think I've done it okay; anyway, I managed to fit everything we need in here."

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"I told you at the Burrow, I've had the essentials packed for days, you know, in case we needed to make a quick getaway. I packed your rucksack this morning, Harry, after you changed, and put it in here…I just had a feeling…"

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"We only met him tonight! We've never been inside your vault…It isn't the real sword! It's a copy! Just a copy!"

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"We will fight! We'll have to, to reach the snake! But let's not lose sight now of what we're supposed to be d-doing! We're the only ones who can end it!"

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Hermione felt something pulling her and gave a startled cry. The last thing she remembered was killing Voldemort and getting a Killing Curse shot in her direction, not being in water. "It's a girl!" She heard someone cry out, and at the same time, a deeper voice yelled excitedly, "Twins, Ellie! Twins!"

She felt herself being passed along to another set of cold hands, and was confused. Why was she being passed around? She looked down, and screamed. She had the body of a baby.

Hermione began to panic. Why wasn't she in Heaven, assuming she went to heaven? And why, for the love of Merlin, was there a pair of cornflower blue eyes staring into hers?

A man, whom she recognized as Nicholas Flamel, beaming, spoke. "Hermione Celeste Flamel and Harry Matthew Flamel."

She glanced over at Harry who she assumed was in 'Ellie's' other arm, and was shocked to see a flash of green pass through them, the colour of Harry's eyes.

Death had somehow messed up and now she and Harry were reborn as infants, children to Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel, no less.

Hermione began to wail.

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Nicholas Flamel was a very lucky man if he did say so himself. He had married the love of his life, Perenelle, and they later on, had two beautiful children.

The Stone, although maintained their ability to look still as youthful as they had at the age of 25, had apparently taken away their ability to have children. Perenelle, who adored children, was heartbroken.

As he gazed at his daughter giggling on the lap of Albus Dumbledore, and his son, drawing a photo while laying on the ground. Last September, Perenelle had discovered she was expecting. While it hadn't been easy, Perenelle had carried to term and the twins were born on July 31, around midnight.

Their daughter, Hermione, was the spitting image of Perenelle, except for her eyes. Her hair was in a riot of curls already. Her eyes, like her fathers, were a deep ocean blue, scattered with golden brown flecks. His son's eyes were the exact same, both getting their eyes from their father.

Perenelle, although she moaned about how much Harry took after him, he knew she was secretly pleased Hermione had taken after her and Harry had taken after him.

But it didn't mean their children were perfect. Hermione had seemed wise beyond her age, although her eyes still sparkled with childish naivety. Their son, Harry, was just the same. Once, when the lights had gone out through a storm, Harry had panicked and conjured up a patronus. His sister was just as magically powerful as he was, having shattered every single window in the neighborhood once when Perenelle had refused to allow her to open the window, seeing as it was winter outside and freezing.

Perenelle was just as worried as he was, although they both tried not to show it. They had tested if it was because of overexposure to the elixir while they had been in the womb, but so far, the results were inconclusive.

But he knew, as he gazed at his children, with Perenelle coming around and wrapping her arms around him, he would not exchange his family for the world.

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Albus Dumbledore was very content with what life had just given him. His god-children, Hermione and Harry. He wasn't stupid. He knew the Flamels had tried for children for a long time, to no avail. When they had announced to him they were expecting, he was thrilled for the two, knowing they deserved it.

But as he gazed at Hermione sitting on his lap, he couldn't help but feel as though something was up. There was sometimes something in their eyes—he had only seen the look in those who had survived war— which didn't make sense, seeing as they were only three.

He relaxed his facial muscles, hearing Hermione's bell-like laughter ringing out, he looked down and saw the little girl giggling about something her brother had just done.

Albus Dumbledore loved his godchildren more than anything in the world. He knew they would both become very powerful witches and wizards one day. He worried for the outcome, considering how the Flamels historically were a very light family. They didn't partake in any fighting, preferring to stay neutral and support the 'light,' as you could say.

Albus couldn't help but worry what. would happen if Tom Riddle was ever to hear about their parentage.

But for now, he was just content to enjoy their naivety and innocence while it lasted.

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AN:

AND I REPEAT AGAIN I DID NOT STEAL THIS STORY I AM THE SAME AUTHOR

im so sorry its just i received several veryyy hateful private messages