Not for me to reason why, but Harry Potter STILL isn't mine!

Warnings: This is AU. Hermione will still be friends with Harry and Ron, but not as much as the books. Evil Dumbledore


Hermione Granger shivered as she walked into the deserted potion's dungeons.

She just wanted to break down and cry. People wouldn't leave her alone!

It was as if, somehow, they could automatically tell that she was a 'freak' as her father put it, or, as various teachers at various times had phrased it, 'different', or 'loner'.

Even here, where everybody else was supposedly just like her, people either looked to her as a 'brain', or were just like everybody else.

Even the teachers, no, she thought cynically to herself, especially the teachers, treated her as different from the others. Out of them all, there was only one she could call kind, and even he, in fact, especially he, could not be considered so by the other students.

Professor Snape was the only one who ignored her brains, who treated her just like other students, albeit in a remote, distained fashion.

It was unfair, she finally resolved to herself. He couldn't help that he looked, well, different. He could probably have helped his hair, but, as Hermione realized, that would probably be a waste of time.

Staff disliked him, the Students hated him. Dumbledore, well, Dumbledore was Dumbledore. His only solace was in the deepest wells of his mind, and the cloak of the night. Dumbledore had, reluctantly, allowed the glamour charm to fade an hour each day, after being promised that he would never stray from his room. The Imperius charm Dumbledore had placed on him 'out of necessity', also faded, giving him a respite from the behavior of his induced alter-ego, the sarcastic Slytherin known as Severus Snape.

He settled down in a dark corner and relaxed.

Only to come immediately tense again as he heard stumbling footsteps.

Unfolding himself, he stood up. He was short, too short by far to be considered adult. This was one reason for the glamour charm.

In this, his true form, he had short, curly blue-black hair and deep, dark gold eyes. His skin was milk-pale with high cheekbones, and a straight, unbroken nose.

All in all he looked nothing like how he was 'supposed' to look, like an embittered Gargoyle.

Dumbledore, strangely enough, had found that extremely amusing.

Memories, potent as Spirits-of-wine, threatened to overwhelm him at this point; of him at three, being handed over to the tyrant known to the world as Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, and defeater of Grindelwald.

It had been a dark, stormy night, and he had been clutched tightly to his mother's chest, before being passed to rougher, older hands, which rocked him halfheartedly, until the door had shut again. He'd been dropped hard, before the Imperius had been cast. He could remember frosted blue eyes glaring coldly at him, then nothing.

Hermione froze as she heard movement behind a door to the right, then she heard a strangled sobbing noise and began to edge forward, before whispering 'alohomora' and getting her first glimpse at the room beyond. A young boy stood, with his head against the far wall, seeming to be where the sobs came from. Hermione coughed, the boy turned around, and the moonlight caught his face. It was heart-stopping to her. Looking just as she had imagined her prince would look, sans only the white charger.

A/N As you can tell, it's going to be a HGSS. The next chapter will pick up when they're both fifteen.