A/N: Hi everyone! Welcome to Hunting Shadows. This is going to be quite a long fic, so please buckle up for the ride. I am really excited to share this with you because it is my first fic in the HP fandom! I hope we will smile together, cry together, and enjoy the ride together, because even though this starts out nice and light….well. Shadows are around every corner, aren't they?

Blanket Disclaimer: Obviously, as we all know, I am not JK Rowling. If I was, I would be writing the Founder's Era or Marauder's Era books to accompany the original series. Alas. I also make zero profit off this.

Prologue

The last Friday of term dawned hot and muggy, the air so thick it felt as if it were clinging to her. It shouldn't be this hot in early June, Hermione thought somewhat resentfully, piling her hair on her head in a messy knot in a halfhearted effort to cool down the nape of her neck. It shouldn't be this hot, and yet it was.

Just like a lot of things shouldn't have been but were. She snorted at the irony. Sirius Black, an escaped convict, shouldn't have been able to haunt the halls of Hogwarts, but had; Harry shouldn't have gotten a new broom from said convict, but did; Peter Pettigrew shouldn't have been able to hide as a rat, but could; and she shouldn't have been able to turn back time, take twelve classes, save an endangered hippogriff from execution, fly on said hippogriff, and rescue both Harry and Sirius from the Dementors. But she had done all of that and more.

None of it should have been possible, and yet, here she stood at the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Another year finished at Hogwarts, she was a little worse for wear but thankfully alive and relatively unscathed.

Yes, it would be good to get away from all of this, she thought Time-Turner, so very slight but so completely and utterly heavy, weighed around her neck. All she had left to do was return the Time-Turner, grab her things—already packed, of course—and head down to meet the boys in the Entrance Hall. After that, all she had ahead of her was a blessedly uneventful summer. Lots of reading to do, of course, if she wanted to be properly prepared for her O.W.L.s (she was ahead of her two year revision plan thanks for the Time-Turner, but knowledge waited for no woman) and a vacation to France with her parents, but otherwise, it would be blessedly uneventful.

She could hardly wait to curl up in bed with a good book after eating her mother's welcome home meal, a shepherd's pie that consisted of more butter than anything else, and a side of custard. Her mouth watered at the thought.

The gargoyle blocking the way up moved suddenly, distracting her from her daydreams of her mother's cooking. Once the staircase was no longer blocked, she made her way up them to Dumbledore's office. It was just as she remembered: a treasure-trove of rare items and books that begged for exploration but were disappointingly off-limits. Her eyes lingered on some kind of floating orb with rotating rings around it. Had she known better, she would have thought it a model of one of the planets, but—

"Miss Granger," the Headmaster interrupted her thoughts, greeting her while he stroked Fawkes's head from where the phoenix stood on his stand. "Congratulations on finishing another year with top marks."

She flushed. "Thank you, Headmaster," she replied, bowing her head at his praise. She felt compelled to add, "My marks aren't in quite yet, however, so I don't want to accept congratulations where they aren't due."

Serenely, Dumbledore nodded. "I'm certain your concern is unwarranted, Miss Granger, but you do yourself credit with your modesty." He returned to his desk, sat down, and plucked a candy from a tray atop it.

"Lemon drop?" He offered kindly, and when she shook her head, he unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth. "As happy as I would be to while away this lovely summer afternoon speaking with you, I suspect that this is not a social visit. Could it be that you have something to return to me, perhaps?"

"Yes Sir." She nodded, bent her head, and lifted the chain the Time-Turner was threaded through over her bushy-hair. The metal slithered through her grip like silk, as if it did not want her to be able to grasp it and be rid of it. But she managed, coiling it neatly before placing it on the desk.

The sight of it sitting so innocuously on the desk made her irrationally angry. She had willingly subjected herself to it and its powers, used it to slip back in time again and again, until the days had slipped away from her, until she'd forgotten to eat and sleep at times, forcing her to turn back yet again simply to catch up on sleep. By the end, she wasn't sure if she still ruled the Time-Turner or if it had ruled her, instead.

Expectantly, she waited for him to pick it up, but he tilted his head for a long moment, watching her. "Miss Granger," he said at last, "I have a proposition for you. Now, you are not obligated to accept it, of course, but I rather think you might like it. What would you say," he leaned forward, eyes twinkling, "to continuing your studies over the summer?"

Her interested piqued. "Sir?"

"It has come to my attention that you are interested in becoming a Healer, perhaps?"

How the man knew that was beyond her. She'd mentioned it to Madam Pomfrey in passing when she had been in the Hospital Wing looking in on Harry, but hadn't told anyone else of it. She wasn't sure; she was just thinking about it. But it did make sense, really, given the situation. Someone had to know how to heal if they were going to keep getting themselves into these incredibly dangerous situations. Besides, it would make her parents happy that she was taking after them as much as she could. And the academic rigour of it all...yes, she thought she would be very well suited to it indeed.

"I'm considering it," she replied cautiously.

"That is most excellent to hear, most excellent indeed." He nodded, almost as if to himself, and then fixed his incredibly piercing blue eyes on her. "I have the opportunity to extend an offer of a summer-long apprenticeship to you to one of the foremost Healers in the field, one Krasmira Lazarov. She is renowned for her skill in the field, as well as her—hm, how shall I put this—unique personality. While she does not normally take apprentices, she has agreed to sponsor you for the summer."

Hermione's eyes widened. Even she had heard of Madam Lazarov. The Healer was known for her unorthodox approach to healing, especially towards trauma-based injuries, and had pioneered some methods currently being used in the field. "That's incredible, Sir," she breathed. "But...she's not attached to Saint Mungo's, is she?" Last she'd heard, Lazarov was traveling.

"Indeed not, Miss Granger. She is currently attached to a Quidditch team as their primary Healer, as they provide a range of, shall we say, intriguing injuries that she can heal. She told Poppy—Madam Pomfrey—once that she did her best thinking under immediate pressure, and Quidditch provides both the pressure and the injuries in droves."

Quidditch? She stifled the instinctive distaste at the idea of working so closely with the sport and thought it over as objectively as possible. While she had no particular enduring love for Quidditch, the opportunity to work with Madam Lazarov was something she couldn't, in good conscience, pass up. Besides, she thought pragmatically, patients were patients, no matter how they got the injury—even if it was by hurtling through the air suicidally fast in the name of athleticism.

"I would be traveling with the team, then?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Wherever they go, Madam Lazarov goes and therefore, you would go as well. The Bulgarian National Team, who she currently works with, trains in Sofia, but given the situation with the Quidditch World Cup coming up in August here in Scotland, they are traveling a considerable amount. You would not have to concern yourself with lodgings or financing, my dear. It would all be taken care of."

She might not know the first thing about the Quidditch World Cup nor the Bulgarian National Team, but if there was one thing she did know, it was caution. Amelia Granger had made certain of that, teaching her to question things that sounded too good to be true. "Sir," she hesitated. "What's the catch?"

Dumbledore seemed taken aback. "The catch?"

She wrinkled her nose. "I don't quite understand. Why me, Sir? I'm quite a bit younger than is traditional for an apprenticeship…" she trailed off helplessly.

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses, and shifted in his chair. At the sudden movement, Fawkes brindled, nudging the professor's shoulder irritably before fluttering off to his perch. "As it happens, I do have a favor I would like to ask of you."

She wove her fingers together nervously in her lap. With a man like Dumbledore, a favor could mean anything, including—she gulped—joining the team herself. Or worse, talking Ron into it. He had every trading card ever made for the team, after all.

"Oh?" she asked, dread setting in the pit of her stomach.

"However wrong Sirius's conviction and subsequent imprisonment at Azkaban was, he still stands as an escaped convict. He needs somewhere safe to hide, and that can no longer be Hogwarts. He will, therefore, be acting as your guardian, should you choose to accept it."

Taken aback and more than a bit lost, Hermione blinked. "What?"

Dumbledore touched the tips of his fingers together, peering at her through his half-moon spectacles. "To put it plainly, Sirius Black needs to escape the country and hunt down Peter Pettigrew. He will be disguised, of course. We can't have Sirius running around Bulgaria with his poster in every wand shop." He winked. "Sirius hopes to hunt Pettigrew down whilst acting as a guardian to you."

She frowned. "Why not let him go on his own?"

The thought of staying with someone who had spent years in Azkaban filled her with apprehension. After all, he had nearly torn Ron's leg off just yesterday but... He was innocent, and perhaps now that he was out of Azkaban, he would become more civilized? That place would drive the sanest of men mad, after all.

All Dumbledore offered was, ""We have reason to believe Pettigrew may have fled the country, and a lone man is more suspicious than a single father with a child to care for."

Doubtfully, she replied, "I see," although really, she didn't at all. It seemed somewhat believable, she supposed. But Dumbledore worked in mysterious ways, and if he said this was important, and asked her for help, who was she to say no? After all, he had never steered her wrong before, and he helped her with taking all the classes she wanted by getting her the Time-Turner.

She jumped with a start as Fawkes screeched shrilly, jarring her from her musings. Dumbledore looked at her questioningly.

"Of course, Sir. I'd be happy to have Black accompany me," she said suddenly, surprising even herself. The instant the words were out, however, she knew she had made the right decision for both herself and for Dumbledore. Even for Black, she thought somewhat uncharitably. She still couldn't bring herself to say his first name out loud, the images of the posters littering Diagon Alley with headlines like 'MURDERER' and 'SECOND GRIM SIGHTING IN A WEEK!' vivid in her mind's eye.

Dumbledore clapped his hands together once, the sound startling her. "Excellent! There really is no one I would rather entrust this task to, Miss Granger," he exclaimed, eyes twinkling. "You are wonderfully capable and terrifyingly self-sufficient. While Mister Black will be posing as your guardian, you will be left to your own devices for the majority of the summer, I'm afraid," he added regretfully.

"If I can handle a Time-Turner, I can certainly take care of myself for a few months," she said matter-of-factly. Dumbledore's ever-present benevolent smile grew in response.

Although, she admitted to herself, she wasn't quite sure if the Headmaster's faith in her was misplaced. If someone asked her whether or not she'd been taking good care of herself the last year, she wouldn't be able to answer them. Aside from the sleep deprivation and the borderline malnourishment, she'd added almost a year and a half year to her age quite by accident as she'd made the miniature hourglass do as she asked. Well, mostly by accident. All right, somewhat by accident, she amended peevishly, scrupulously honest even within the confines of her own mind.

"That is very true, my dear." Dumbledore nodded, steepling his fingers together thoughtfully. "Very true, indeed. Well, then, it is settled, although I would like to detail exactly how you shall be assisting our Animagus friend." He stood up from his chair and came around to face her.

"First, you must promise to aid Mister Black to the best of your abilities."

"Of course." It went without saying.

"I will need you to brew Polyjuice potion for him. I have…heard that you may have some experience with this potion?"

"Perhaps," she replied evasively, keeping her expression perfectly even. "I have certainly read about it, and I do believe I could brew it, despite how advanced it is." That sounded unbearably swotty, even to her, but she wasn't about to admit she had stolen Boomslang skin from Professor Snape's personal stores and brewed it in the girl's lav.

Dumbledore's twinkling intensified. "I have complete faith in you, Miss Granger. I can provide the ingredients for you, and I have plenty of the necessary elements to change Sirius's appearance to that of one Magellan Quickfoot. He is a German acquaintance of mine who is, let us say, a fan of communing with some of nature's aspects for years at a time, during which he quite disappears."

"Very good, Sir." She swallowed nervously. "Is there anything else I should be aware of?"

"Only that Quickfoot will meet you here in two day's time. I trust you will be able to convince your parents to let you take this opportunity? I can always go talk with them myself, if you believe that would help." Dumbledore seemed almost eager to do so, his eyes bright with expectation.

"No, no!" she replied hastily. The image of her incredibly normal and desperately Muggle parents having a cuppa with a bearded, twinkling, purple-garbed Albus Dumbledore threw her into a panic. "They'll be fine with it, I'm certain. Only…" she hesitated, then plunged ahead. "I was supposed to go on vacation with them to France, you see, in early August before school starts?" And she had been so looking forward to spending some time with her parents, who she felt so far apart from already.

Dumbledore thought for a moment, took another lemon drop from the tray on his desk, and popped it into his mouth. "I believe we can work around that," he said, chewing thoughtfully. "And if circumstances prevent it, we can—" he paused, "certainly, carve some time out for it." His gaze dropped to the Time-Turner neatly placed on his desk.

She swallowed the nausea threatening to bubble up inside her. It had been so easy to be taken in by it the first time around, and given the choice, she would never use it again. Yet, if she could spend some time with her parents… Well, there really was no choice, was there?

"Very good, Sir," she told him, still staring at the hourglass. "Then I have no other questions. I'll do it."