This is my disclaimer: If I was Warner Brothers, I wouldn't be in school right now. If I was J.K. Rowling, Hermione would never have even looked twice at Ron. If I was Scholastic, would I really be living at home right now? Yeah, I didn't think so.

A/N: So, this is my first fanfic in a while. It just came to me after reading a bunch of Hermione is really a pureblood stories. I banged it out in like an hour, and didn't have a beta handy. So if there are any major problems that I didn't catch, let me know so I can fix them… Oh, one more thing. Hermione is named Athena in this, I read it in some fanfic, and liked it… I stole it, so if I stole it from you, I sorry!!! It was just so fitting! If you want me to change it, I will… Just let me know. Now on with the story!

"What do you mean Pureblood?!" Hermione exclaimed.

"I mean that you are a pureblood. You were adopted when you were just a few months old," replied Dumbledore.

Hermione's anger exploded, "Why was I never told before now? I mean, six years of schooling, a year on the run, and now, after the final battle, I hear that I'm a pureblood! From a portrait, no less! Why the Bloody hell didn't my adopted parents tell me!"

"It was for your own protection, your parents were extremely powerful, and they knew that Voldemort wanted a female and a male to produce an heir. They realized that if they kept you, Voldemort would force you into a betrothal and eventually a marriage with an appropriate male, to ensure that he had someone powerful enough to take over his reign if he ever died. Your parents were killed after giving you up. Even though they were not Death Eaters, Voldemort did not take kindly to having someone as powerful as you, out of his reach," Dumbledore's portrait told her soothingly. He watched as the petite witch paced across his old office.

Hermione's hair flying every which way, her power snapping and cracking around her, showing that she wasn't dealing with this new development well. The look on her face said that anger wasn't all she was feeling, sorrow and distrust were warring on her beautiful face as well. She was glad that she had convinced her boys that she could talk to the professor on her own when she had been called to his office earlier that day. It was hard enough coming to terms with who she really was without Ron's typical angry outburst and the looks of confusion and distrust that Harry would have surely sent her.

"What is my real name? Who were my parents? What did they look like? Is there anything of them left? Do I have any other relatives?" Hermione questioned her dead headmaster in rapid succession.

"Athena Jade Keaton is your real name. Your parents were Jameson and Lizabeth Keaton, Professor McGonagall has pictures and personal belongings of theirs because she is your great aunt. She knew that someone here was her niece, but doesn't know that you are Athena. I have kept her in the dark, just as I have kept you," Dumbledore said, hanging his head in regret, shame taking over his mind. "I didn't know how to tell her who you are, nor that her niece was actually alive until you came to Hogwarts. I lead her to believe that her sister's grandchild had died along with the rest of her family until your first year. She looked for you, she even guessed that you were her niece, but I never confirmed it. She still has no idea to this day who you really are."

At these words Hermione lost it, "Why have you done this to us? What did we ever do to you? First sending Harry to the Dursley's year after year, letting Sirius rot in Azkaban, not telling Harry about the prophecy, not telling anyone about Snape, the Hourcux' and now keeping Minerva and I away from each other, even though we are each other's last family members! What kind of person does that! I'll tell you, a person that has no conscious! A man that has no moral compass and cares only what happens to himself. You may say that it is for the quote-unquote greater good, but no. It is for your own sick personal enjoyment, acting like we are your private chess pieces, on a board that only you can see. Well guess what! You suck at chess and suck at being a human being… God I'm glad you're already dead, cause I don't think you would have left this meeting alive if you hadn't been portrait!"

She left storming out of the headmaster's office, fuming and not sure of what to think, she headed to where she knew her family and friends would be. Finally reaching the Great Hall, she saw her aunt. Hermione took a second just to look at the woman she had always admired, and now knew to be her aunt, then breaking out into a run; she launched herself at Minerva, giving the older woman a hugely satisfying hug. After a moment, a surprised Minerva hugged the girl in her arms back. Hermione feeling her hug being returned broke down in tears.

"Dear child, what's wrong," Minerva asked, afraid another terrible thing had happened.

"I just came from the headmaster's office, where I was talking to Dumbledore," sobbed Hermione pulling back just enough to look into her aunt's face, not noticing her friends gathering around her, "he told me that I wasn't a muggleborn, and that my parents had been killed when they put me up for adoption during Voldemort's first reign."

Comprehension dawned on Minerva's face, joy and the slowly anger took over her face, "Athena? You're my niece? The one that he kept from me for eleven years? The one that- that- bastard, told me was coming to Hogwarts, and when I asked if it was you, he denied all knowledge? I am going to destroy that old meddling fool's portrait! I can't believe this!"

Smiling through her tears, Minerva gave her newly found niece another hug, whispering promises of revenge and hope.

The Weasleys and Harry could no longer keep their questions quiet.

"What's this?"

"What's going on?"

"What do you mean niece?"

"What's this about a bastard? You mean Snape?"

(The last one came from Ron, as sharp as always that one.)

"Remember how I was called to talk to Dumbledore's portrait? Well it was because he had some information about my heritage that he wanted to let me know. Apparently I am not a muggleborn. I'm a pureblood. My parents put me up for adoption because Voldemort was trying to find to powerful children to rise, so he could have them give him a powerful heir. My real parents were killed when he found out that they had sent me away. Minerva here is my only surviving relative. She's my great aunt. That manipulative old cot, didn't even tell her I was alive until our first year. He wouldn't even tell her who I was, even after she asked him too. He kept us away from each other. He was afraid that Voldemort would try and continue his plan to produce an heir if he found out I was the missing Keaton child," Hermione said as calmly as she could. Her distrust and lack of respect for the late headmaster was still obvious in her tone of voice though.

"Did you say Keaton? As in Jameson Keaton? The Hear Apparent to the Gryffindor line," asked Mr. Weasley, not quite knowing what to say. His head was spinning, this little slip of a witch was heir to the Gryffindor line, and more powerful than anyone could imagine. Well, at least this explained why she was so magically gifted.

"What do you mean heir of Gryffindor? No one said anything about that," Hermione said, looking at her aunt with an alarmed look on her face. "What is he talking about?"

"Your father, bless his soul, was the heir to the Gryffindor line, and even though Voldemort hated Gryffindors, he knew that any child born from that line would have great power. So he courted your parents, asked them to join the Death Eaters, claimed that you, either male or female, would be essential in bringing his heir in to the world. Your parents wouldn't have anything to do with him, that's when they decided to give you up for adoption. Before they would tell anyone where you were, they were killed," Minerva sighed. This was hard for her, thinking back on her family and what they went through, the dead ends, the leads the fell apart, all she had wanted to do was find her niece, but alas. Thinking back though, maybe Dumbledore had something to do with it, could he have been part of the reason she couldn't find her niece? Could he have been the reason none of her leads panned out?

With that thought, Minerva finally let go of her last family member, and started storming toward the entrance of the Great Hall. Curious, the Weasleys, Harry, Hermione, and the other on lookers that had gathered around the family reunion, fallowed the furious animagus. Marching her way through the castle and straight to the headmaster's office, her tempered never faltered. Righteous anger fueled her now, knowing that man was responsible for her family being torn apart was the last straw… She meant it when she said she was destroying that portrait and it was going down NOW!

Up the stairs she went, with her curious hangers on right behind her.

"Dumbledore," bellowed a seriously pissed of transfiguration teacher. "You have over stepped your boundaries for the last time! No more second chances for you!" Then with surprising speed and strength, Minerva ripped the portrait off the wall with her bare hands, turned around, and stormed out of the office. Her followers were falling over themselves trying to get out of her way, none of them wanted her fury turned onto them.

Quickly fallowing their teacher and friend, they realized where she was headed. Going toward Dumbledore's final resting place, his white grave, Minerva could be heard hurling insults and abuses at the distinguished ex-headmaster. "I can't believe you would do such a thing! Imbecile, ingrate! Look at me, I'm Mr. I-think-I-know-best-so- I –won't-tell- you-what's-really-going-on-until-I'm-dead-and-buried. Mr. I'm-the-only-one-who-can-see-the-big-picture. Mr. I-know-what's-best-for-the-greater-good!! Well guess what! You don't know every bleeping thing! You can't see the big picture because you are not effing omnipresent, and you are not GOD!"

With this last screech, Minerva threw the portrait onto the old man's resting place, and took two giant steps back. Looking back at the crowd that had gathered around her, she spotted her niece (how she already loved thinking that) and one Harry Potter. Beckoning them over, she asked, "Would you like to help me in lighting our lovely and all knowing (this was said with a wink and sarcastic smirk that would have had the Malfoy's envious) leader of the light's portrait on fire? It's time that we were rid of his manipulations and "advice" forever."

With an evil grin and a quick glance at each other, the two teens agreed and turned toward the last remaining active memory of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Realizing this trio was quite serious about destroying his only way of helping future generations, Dumbledore began to panic, "Stop, you can't do this! I see the big picture! I know what is best for the Greater Good! You can't do this to me! Please someone stop them!"

Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on who you are) everyone in the immediate area was struck deaf to his pleas for help. As Minerva and her teenage accomplices counted to three, and gave a cry of Incendio, the once great and powerful Dumbledore had his portrait and grave engulfed in flame.

When the flame finally died down, there was nothing left of the grave or portrait. The many chess pieces, or as they liked to call themselves The Order of the Phoenix, gave a cheer. Though they all had once thought of Dumbledore as a great leader, and warrior, they now knew that he had fallen into the corruption that having too much power can cause.

Taking one last look at the pile of ash that had once been the great manipulator, one by two, the group turned away until only Minerva, Hermione, and Harry were left.

"I can't believe we actually did it," Hermione said.

"I know! I can't believe someone finally had the balls to take him out! I've wanted to do that since the end of 5th year," exclaimed an excited Man-Who-Conquered.

Minerva just smiled, wrapped one arm around her niece and the other around her niece's best friend and said, "It had to be done for the greater good."

There was silence for a moment, and then laughter rang out, as three of Dumbledore's victims, I mean order members, walked back toward the castle and their lives free of evil megalomaniacs and manipulating headmasters.