Hey! This is my first official Harry Potter fic. This first chapter is really only a stepping stone for my entire story, so I promise it'll pick up by the next one. Constructive criticism is appreciated!

On with it now…

Plunk, plunk, plunk.

Hermione piled the last of her clothes into her suitcase. She sighed.

Zip.

What a great way to end the summer! She had been dying to see Harry and Ron and talk more about the events of last year at the ministry. Poor Harry, stuck with the Durleys! Now, all she needed was her carry on…

Click, click.

Hermione sat next to her luggage on her bed, gazing dreamily at the ceiling. What would this year bring? Sure, she didn't particularly enjoy constantly skirting death and danger, but with her friends alongside her, it was consoling to know they did it together. Her thoughts swept over Ronald Weasley then, and his ginger hair and soft eyes…

Knock, knock.

"Hermione? Hermione, dear, your father and I want to talk with you." Mrs. Granger said from the other side of her daughter's door.

"OK mum, I'll be down in a minute." Putting her trunk and carry on next to her door, Hermione bounded downstairs, high in spirits.

The kitchen was small, cute but small. The counter could hold up to four people, two on either side, and when she entered the kitchen, Sean and Marylyn Granger sat next to each other. Their expressions were grave and her dad had a damp cloth in his hand that he periodically touched to his face.

"Is everything alright?" Hermione asked as she sat down across from her parents.

"We – we don't think so." Her mother replied. There was silence where Mrs. Granger rubbed her husband's back reassuringly.

"There is something very important we have to tell you." Her father told her. Hermione's eyes widened. "Where do I begin?" He said, patting his brow nervously with the cloth. "Well, we're not Grangers, Hermione. We're Clarets." He stared at her intently, hoping she would make a connection and realize what he was saying on her own.

"We're not Grangers?" Hermione asked lamely.

"No Her- er, dear, our last name is Claret." Marylyn said.

"I don't understand. Why are you telling me this now…" Sean cut her off.

"We received a letter late last night, from an old friend, and it seems time to reemerge."

Reemerge? Hermione thought. What is he talking about?

"There's another thing." Marylyn continued. "We're not muggleborns, either." Hermione said nothing. She wasn't even sure what all this meant.

"Years ago," Her mother rushed, "just before the Dark Lord's fall, we decided to into hiding. The Dark Lord was frantic in his search for followers. It was only a matter of time before he came to us, as a preeminent Pureblood family."

Preeminent Pureblood what? Hermione questioned internally. Her heart was beating hard and fast and a light sweat was starting to break.

"We couldn't risk losing our family; we had seen how families were torn apart by the war. We didn't want that to happen to us." A tear rolled down her mother's cheek as she tried to explain the circumstance to Hermione, the daughter she loved so dearly.

"We wish we could have told you sooner." Her dad said hurriedly. "And we wish we had more time to explain, but it appears time has run out." He glanced at the clock on the wall quickly. "All of us need to leave now." The couple stood promptly, startling Hermione out of her intense reverie.

"What are you talking about? What's going on?" Hermione followed her rushing parents out of the kitchen and into the living room, which had a large box centered in the room. Marylyn and Sean ran around the room, hastily grabbing any pictures or heirlooms and tossing then into the box.

"I'm sorry Hermione." Her mother apologized as she threw an old clock into the box. "I know this is all happening so quickly for you, but we never predicted this."

Dump, dump, dump. More items were thrown into the pit.

Hermione watched her parent's frantically search the house for any family antiques she had never really noticed before. Something about the situation wasn't clicking in the bright witch's mind. It was too fast, no comfort about it. Both of her parents were gone from the living room now. Her head began to throb.

She stumbled into the kitchen and fetched a glass from a cupboard, bringing it over to the sink.

Screech. The water had been cut.

Hermione stumbled to another cupboard, hand to her forehead, in search of any medication that could reduce the pounding in her skull. Every cabinet was already empty, in some far unreachable place for sure.

Where is the medication? Why is my heart beating so quickly? The room dimmed suddenly and she slumped to the floor. The light on the ceiling flared before everything went black.

The light was dim when Hermione opened her eyes. Everything was quiet and she wondered if anyone had found her yet. She lifted her hand to her numb head, swallowing the funny taste in her mouth.

It was then that she noticed her surroundings.

Her clothes had been changed so she was in a short nightgown. The four poster king-sized bed she was lying on was old, and nothing she had ever seen before. The burgundy covers had some sort of Persian looking design on them. She propped herself on her elbows with effort, gazing around the incredibly large room. Two tall bookshelves resided against the farthest wall next to a large painting set against the royal blue color of the walls. A large desk sat next to that, a pile of books already on the surface.

On either side of the bed, two soft brown side tables supported antique lamps. A golden bell was on the right table, odd for where she was. Curious, she reached over to pick it up. Not realizing just how weak she really was, the bell slipped right from her grip and fell onto the floor.

Ring!

Crack! Suddenly, an elf appeared.

A house elf, to be precise.

"Did miss ring?" The small creature asked.

"Oh no, sorry, I didn't mean to…" Hermione mumbled, a little stunned by its presence. The tiny thing had large eyes, much like Dobby's, and a small pillowcase fitted over her petite body. The elf bowed.

"It is alright, miss, Duffy is here to serve the Claret family." A house elf? To serve the-er-her family?

"Well, Duffy," She began uneasily, "Can you tell me where my parents are?" Hermione made to get up but found herself to weak to move.

"Master and mistress have gone out. They will be back shortly." Duffy replied. Out? Where could they have gone? Hermione wondered.

"If miss will beg pardon, Duffy must get back to duties."

"Of course…" Hermione muttered. With a crack! Duffy was gone.

Hermione heaved a great sigh as a strong wave of drowsiness swept over, forcing her deeper into her comfy pillow. By this point, cohesive thoughts were too hard to come by. Her eyes drooped slowly as she fell into dreamless sleep.

So... What'd you think of it? Please review and let me know!