A/N: Thank you everyone for your kind comments. I had several requests to see the meeting between Hermione and her parents, so here's an epilogue for you. :)

(And for anyone who didn't realize, the first couple sentences way back in Step 1 were about Ariana Dumbledore. It's the start of this story because that's where this universe diverges from canon.)

First Step

A knocking on the front door took Hugh's attention from his periodical and he turned his head with a frown.

"Jane, are we expecting anyone?" he said, voice raised so his wife could hear him from the kitchen.

"No, dear. Can you get it? Our hands are covered."

Hugh rose from his place on the sofa with a groan and a crackling of his knees. It had better not be the neighbors about their missing cat again. Honestly, after three weeks if it hadn't turned up it probably wasn't going to.

He tossed his magazine on top of the pile and made towards the entryway. Already preparing to offer his sympathies and regrets—again —he opened the door ready to face Mrs. Jones with a suitably somber expression.

And stopped short. The two strangers he found on his doorstep were most certainly not Mrs. Jones, or even Mr. Jones or their two sons.

"Can I help you?" he said after a moment. Hugh wasn't sure how he possibly could.

The pair would have made an unlikely sales team, and weren't dressed as if they had any official sort of business. A young woman (in her late teens or early twenties at the most) stood beside a dour-looking gentleman in desperate need of a good haircut.

He couldn't imagine what they would be doing standing next to each other, much less knocking on his door.

The young woman smiled and fidgeted, looking to the man who gave a thin-lipped nod. Seeming to take that as encouragement, the girl turned back to Hugh and spoke,

"I hope so. Is this the residence of Hugh and Jane Granger?"

Hugh tightened his grip on the doorknob and took a step closer. The door swung a fraction more closed.

"It is. Is there some trouble?"

Her eyes widened.

"Not at all! It's just that-" Her mouth opened and closed several times. "You see, I lost my parents when I was young and I've been looking into my family tree. Trying to find people related to me. I think… we are related. Do you have time to talk?"

Earnest. Anxious. That was how he would have described her request if asked.

He couldn't recall any relatives that would possibly meet her description: dying and leaving their young daughter orphaned. She had to have the wrong Grangers. He was about to ask for more details, a name…

But Hugh looked at her face. Really looked, and saw his wife's sister. And his mother-in-law. In the eyes and lips. Chin, too. Maybe it was possible. On the off chance that this young woman was correct and they were related, he didn't want their first meeting to be a paranoid interrogation on the front step without any sort of hospitality or welcome.

He sighed and took a step back.

"I do. Why don't you both come inside?"

They stepped into the entry hall, and Hugh kept them there for a moment.

"Jane, can you take Viola upstairs?" he called. "We have guests."

"What?" There was a clattering of utensils and dishes. "Just a minute!"

Hugh led them to the living room and gestured toward the sofa.

"Please, have a seat. Would you like any tea?"

They sat next to each other and the man spoke up for the first time. His voice was deep and even.

"We wouldn't want to be a burden."

"Not at all," Hugh said, waving a dismissive hand and completing the exchange of pleasantries. "Just a moment and I'll bring it right out."

His steps on the way to the kitchen were a little faster than normal. At the sink, Jane was trying to get Viola's hands clean and their daughter was pouting.

"Who is it?" Jane spoke quietly. Hugh shrugged and gathered the tea set.

"There's a girl who thinks she might be a relation. Could be, I suppose. Looks a lot like Emily. She came with a bloke and wants to talk."

His wife's eyes narrowed and Viola tried to wiggle away without success.

"Did you get a name? She didn't say anything about money, did she?"

His mouth thinned and he filled the pot with boiling water from the instant hot and fetched some tea leaves. Hopefully their guests wouldn't be there long enough to merit a proper brew.

"I didn't, and no. It seemed rude to leave them at the door."

Jane sighed.

"Nothing to do about it now. Thanks for getting the tea," she said, and then directed her attention to Viola. "Now it's time to go to your room for a time. What would you like to read?"

"Paddington!" The girl bounced on her toes and followed Jane toward the stairs.

Hugh smiled and carried the tea tray behind.

When he entered the living room and set it down, Hugh noted that his guests' attention followed Viola very attentively as she crossed the doorway. The man was more subtle about it but the young woman's wide-eyed stare was hard not to notice.

His smile became a grimace, his tone stiff as he said,

"It will need time to steep, of course."

The wide-eyed stare was on him, then, and the girl's joy was evident in her grin.

It was an awkward two minutes as Hugh tried to think of something to say. He thought of nothing.

He sighed in relief to see Jane descend the stairs and join them.

"Hello, I'm Jane Granger," his wife said with a polite smile, taking an armchair. "I don't believe we caught your names?"

"Severus Snape, a pleasure," the man offered, but the young woman sat still for several moments without speaking. Hugh frowned and was about to ask if she was all right, and then she finally spoke.

"Have you ever thought that magic might exist?" she said.

He and Jane exchanged a glance at the strange non sequitur. He moved to stand beside his wife's chair.

"I suppose when I was a boy," Hugh said slowly. Jane said nothing. "Like many, I had a healthy imagination."

"Imagine what you could do with it," the girl continued with an odd smile. "Clean the dishes without touching them, conjure a stool from thin air, heal a scraped knee, change a mouse into a cat and a cat into a dog."

Hugh began to wonder if this girl were on drugs, or a touch insane and maybe ought to be. Could she be violent? She seemed manic, but not angry. And the man, Snape, a quiet sort. Was he barmy too? Or maybe her minder.

The girl continued her rambling.

"But then you could also do horrible things as well. Injure with a word, tear down protections, invade and deceive. If magic were real, you couldn't always trust what your senses tell you. Because your senses could be tricked.

"Magic could do great good or ill, depending on its user. Like any tool. But it would make the impossible, possible."

The young woman fell silent, eyebrows furrowed. Appearing to search for words. Hugh and Jane watched her, stunned and uncertain what might follow such a statement.

Snape nudged her side with his elbow and gave a nod that seemed to say 'get on with it.' She took a deep breath.

"Magic is real," she said, removing a polished stick from the sleeve of her jumper. "And it can do all the things I said and more."

A gesture from her stick, and abruptly one of the teacups was a canary. It chirped and fluttered around their heads, darting around the room in search of open sky. Another gesture and the bird was a teacup again, falling to the floor.

A flick, and the cup froze in midair. It floated smoothly back to the tea tray and settled down as the girl lowered her stick.

Trembling, Hugh reached forward to lift the cup in his hands. It was just a teacup. Solid, it had weight. He fumbled to fill it and the others with tea, trying to disguise his incredulity with courtesy.

"That's very interesting," he said, even as his thoughts ran something like 'What was that? What did she do? How did she do it?' "But I'm not sure why you felt the need to share it with us."

She took his offered tea with a quiet "thank you." There was a silence as they all poured and stirred in their sugar and milk, blew on the hot liquid and took tentative sips.

It took another moment and a second nudge from the man by her side for the young woman to speak again.

"I needed to tell you, because…" Snape placed a hand on her shoulder when again she paused. "Sixteen years ago, magic users took your daughter away and made you think she was dead. Because she could also use magic. But she isn't dead."

A heavy stone dropped in Hugh's stomach, and it grew heavier and more nauseating with each second. Jane grabbed at his arm and held tight.

How dare she. How dare this girl come into their home spouting crazy nonsense, pull a magic trick and then bring up their daughter? How dare she try to make them believe Hermione wasn't dead.

As if he hadn't held the cold, still toddler in his arms and wept for hours. As if he hadn't had to watch them bury his precious baby girl. As if he hadn't been struggling with the pain and guilt and nightmares for years.

He and Jane had finally moved on, as best they could, and now this girl thought she could just-

"I am not dead. My name is Hermione Jean Granger."

That derailed him, and he faintly heard the clatter of a cup falling, bouncing, breaking on the floor. He didn't even look, he couldn't breathe.

The fury returned ten-fold. He opened his mouth to shout-

And looked at her wide-eyed, anxious face. Near tears. Hugh exhaled in a rapid burst. He really looked, and for a moment allowed himself to stop rationalizing and hope.

"She has your eyes," he said to Jane. "Your lips and chin."

Hugh looked at his wife, met her agonized gaze.

"Hugh…" It was a groaning entreaty.

He took her hand and squeezed. His vision blurred with tears. Jane drew in a shaky breath.

"She has your nose," she said. "The wild Granger hair."

Together they faced the girl, a stranger who just might be the daughter they'd lost.

"Hermione?" Jane whispered.

As one they stood: Hugh, Jane, and Hermione. They took small steps forward, searching with their eyes.

Jane lifted a shaking hand. Hermione met her halfway, leaning into the touch on her cheek with a brilliant smile. Just like his wife's.

"Hermione," Hugh said with a choked sob, gathering his girls into his arms.

They sank to the floor in a mess of tears and tangled limbs. Jane held the girl's face in both hands as Hermione said,

"Mum. Dad."

It was some time before the three stopped crying. They slowly withdrew and stared at each other, speechless with joy and astonishment. Still sitting on the floor.

Hugh's attention was caught by a handkerchief appearing beside his face. Unable to suffer any further shock, he plucked it from midair and wiped at his face then blew his nose. Two similar handkerchiefs had been conjured and were used by his wife and daughter. The scraps of cloth disappeared just as quickly as they came.

"Thank you," he said, addressing Severus Snape who at that moment was repairing the dropped cup and cleaning the spilled tea with a few waves of his own stick. The man nodded in response.

"I don't understand how this is possible," Jane said. Her eyes were fixed to Hermione's face. "You were dead. We saw-we buried…"

"An item that was transfigured to perfectly resemble the body of your daughter if she had died of heart failure," Snape spoke up. His tone was crisp and informative. "A tricky bit of magic, but the Ministry was determined to remove your daughter from your care with minimum fuss."

"Minimum fuss…" Hugh echoed, astonished and furious. "Why would anyone do something so deplorable? And which Ministry? Surely this couldn't be legally sanctioned!"

"Regrettably, the policies of the Ministry of Magic—Wizarding Britain's governing body—have for decades been influenced by a prejudiced and isolationist sentiment," the man said. "It was believed that your daughter, as a witch, would be better served if she were raised in the wizarding world rather than the muggle, the non-magic."

Hermione shook her head, expression anguished.

"I couldn't leave. I wished so many times that I could, that I could run away and find you," she said. Jane wrapped her arms around the girl and pulled her into a tight hug.

"In reality I believe the policy was motivated more from a desire to keep the two worlds separate than any concern for the childrens' well-being," Snape elaborated. "They didn't want to bring the muggle parents in on the secret that magic exists."

"There were others?" Hugh said, aghast. That anyone could do such a thing regularly, tearing children from their parents and leaving corpses in their place.

"A handful of children capable of magic are born to muggles every year," the man confirmed.

Hugh shook his head, unable to comprehend so many revelations. Meeting his daughter was overwhelming enough, but to be confronted with the reality of magic, and a secret government stealing children… He felt numb. He couldn't process it.

"I have a feeling there's a lot more that needs to be said." Hugh said. "You'll both stay for supper won't you? Jane and Viola were just preparing a meal."

He stood from the floor with a grunt. Jane and Hermione slowly followed, their hands clasped tightly.

"Viola is your sister," Jane said to the girl with a soft smile, and Hermione beamed. "Why don't we fetch her from upstairs and we can get to know each other as I finish getting supper ready?

"Yes!" the girl said, while Snape accepted Hugh's invitation with a nod and, "If you'd like."

Jane took Hermione upstairs and Hugh watched them leave. In that moment he was filled with a warmth that comes from true contentment and love.

"Hermione is a very kind and intelligent young woman," Snape said quietly. "You should be proud."

Hugh felt a pang of jealousy that this man should know his daughter when he did not.

"I can hardly claim any part in her upbringing," he muttered, and then felt the weight of a hand on his shoulder.

"She's here now, and if fate allows you'll have many years to know her and be a positive influence. She's faced a great deal in her short life, and in the face of adversity has shone brightly where others might have dimmed. You will be proud."

It was offered like a promise.

Hugh coughed and stepped away, returning to tidy the tea set.

"Another cup while we wait?"

They settled in with more tea just as the girls returned from upstairs with Viola. The youngest was chattering excitedly as they headed toward the kitchen and Hugh watched them with a smile.

As they disappeared around the corner, Hugh turned his attention to the man seated across from him.

"And what is your part in all this, Mr. Snape?" he said, realizing that while Hermione's presence had been explained he knew nothing of this stoic man beyond his name and that he could also perform magic. "How do you know Hermione?"

"I looked after her on a number of occasions when she was younger, and I was part of the same effort that recently overturned the Ministry's laws regarding muggles and muggle-born wizards," Snape said.

Hugh was curious to hear more of this effort—had Hermione really been part of a political campaign?—when the man continued.

"And as of recently, I consider her… a friend."

A protective instinct rose in him for this girl he had never had the chance to know, and he confirmed, "Just a friend?"

Snape's eyes widened and he looked unsettled for the first time since Hugh met him at the door.

"Indeed, a friend," he said firmly. Hugh nodded, relieved.

"Dad, Severus!" Hermione shouted, nearly skidding to a halt just outside the living room. "Come join us! I conjured some butterflies for Viola and she's trying to catch them in a jar and it's just really cute. Won't you watch?"

Hugh raised an eyebrow. Butterfly-catching in Jane's kitchen? That would be something to see.

He stood alongside Snape and they followed the young woman obediently. Jane was, unsurprisingly, exasperated but tolerating the noise and chaos in her kitchen as she finished preparing the food.

That evening, Hugh Granger sat at the table with his wife, two daughters, and his daughter's friend. They ate, they spoke, they cried, and they laughed. His family felt complete and his home full in a way it hadn't been for sixteen years.

It was the first meal of many eaten together in the decades to come. Hugh had the great privilege to watch Hermione grow and mature into a wonderful woman. A wonderful witch.

She shone brightly, and he was proud.