Hello people! New story here, obviously. This chapter is pretty much all about HP, and Twilight is only slightly mentioned at the end. This is completely AU, and explains some of the things you'll need to know for the rest of the story. The rest of it will come in later. Their personalities are completely wacked as well.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

Jean Kaitlyn Granger loved her family. No matter how small it may be, she wouldn't give them up for all the money in the world. She had a lovely, kind, handsome husband who she had loved for at least five years now. She had a beautiful, brilliant daughter that she loved with all her heart and had since she found out that the life of the child was growing inside her earlier that year.

Now Hermione Adeline Granger was three months old, and staring at her with unusually intelligent eyes for a babe not even a year old. The child was lying on the changing table, her nappy new and clean, and watching her mother as the woman cleaned up.

Jean looked back over at the babe pursing her lips as she saw the patterns that looked like tattoos painted purple on her child's collarbone, curled around her shoulders and carried on across her shoulder blades. She recognised the patterns from the old books in her old family's library, the family she fought to get away from.

The patterns were called Magics Leaves. They were intricately interlinked patterns, words just able to be made out combined with the swirls and lines. She couldn't understand the language, but she knew what it was. She didn't think she'd ever see anything with it written on it, and she wasn't sure whether to feel proud or scared that her daughter had been chosen.

But it didn't matter what her feelings were, she loved her daughter, and no matter what happened, she always would.

Molly Weasley was a mother. She had been since her own mother died when her brothers were two years old, and she spent the days from the age of seven trying to be a mother to her younger twin brothers. She was always the mother-hen of her group of friends, and when she found out she was pregnant three months out of Hogwarts by her fiancée of five months, she was rather glad that she could now officially be called a mother.

And she became the mother of one child. Then another. Then another. Then two more. Now she's got one more child. All boys.

She knows what she'd doing, has done it for so many years, she could probably do it in her sleep. But she could tell this child was different, that her youngest son was different from her other five children.

Biting the skin on the underside of her top lip, she turned to look once again at Ronald Maximus Weasley

Curling around Ron's hips were patterns she recognised from her time as a young girl, spending many a rainy day in the library at Prewett manor as Fabian and Gideon ran around the halls of the manor. The intricate patterns curled around her youngests tan hip's, stretching across his lower abdomen and lower back. Flowing along the lines that swam through the pattern were words that she recognised but couldn't read, all done in a fiery, beautiful red.

She knew what the patterns meant, of course she did. All eleven of the families of old were taught about it. Only few of them knew how to read the language, and even fewer could decipher the riddles that were written into the patterns and words. But everyone from those families could recognise those patterns.

They were the patterns of Magic's Trunk. They were the patterns of old, tracing back from the very origins of magic herself.

Molly didn't know what she was going to do. Her husband didn't know about it, would never know about it if she had anything to say about it. She may love him, but he wouldn't understand. She didn't know what she was going to tell Ronald when he grew older. She knew she would have to tell him, but she didn't how.

Molly Weasley was a lot of things. A friend, a wife, a cook. But most of all she was a mother, and she would protect her children to her last breath.

Lily Potter looked down at her month old son. Hadrian Sirius Alphard Black looked back up at her, bright green eyes blinking curiously up at her.

Sighing, the red headed woman looked back down at the birth certificate they had procured. Instead of the babe's real name, Harry James Potter was written carefully on the paper. Lily understood it was for her sons safety that they fake his father, and give him a different name, but she didn't like it. Not even Dumbledore knew what she, James, Remus and Sirius had done.

They had defied the prophecy, neither Voldemort or Dumbledore that the retched thing was now void. The Longbottoms had delivered their son two days early, and Lily had managed to out off giving birth until early morning of August 1st. Dumbledore didn't know that little Harry had not born as the seventh month died, nor was he conceived through parents that had thrice defied him - Sirius had turned strictly neutral in his seventh year, and Lily had followed.

But Dumbledore didn't know this, didn't know that there is no child of the Prophecy, didn't know that Lily and Sirius were neutral, didn't know that James was questioning him. Voldemort knew none of this either, he thought that Harry was the prophecy child, that he was a threat.

And maybe Harry was.

Lily licked her lips and looked down at the ancient, dusty tome she had found deep in the Black family library. She had found a page detailing what she wanted to know, although it wasn't actually described in much detail. After rereading once more, Lily looked back over at her baby boy.

He was still looking at her, blinking slowly. She smiled at the babe, love swelling in her heart. But she didn't concentrate on the too bright eyes for long, moving her gaze to the intricate pattern on her childs wrists.

Curling their way around around the childs small, thin wrists, stark against the pale skin, like green, inked tattoos, were intricate, beautiful patterns.

Squeezed in between the swirls and lines were words she recognised but couldn't read. The book didn't say anything on that, though, so she couldn't even guess what they said. They were stained on her childs body, representing something she didn't understand. They curled around his wrists, the patterns climbing up the pale arm to halfway up the forearm

She knew they were called Magic's Roots, of course she did. Her father wouldn't of let her leave Hogwarts without knowing what it was. Even though she knew what the patterns meant, the Blacks were oldest family still active today, and Lily had thought they would hae more information that would help her understand her baby's fate. But they didn't have anything she didn't know, and she was getting more and more worried as time went on.

She was the only one who knew about the patterns, not even telling James or Sirius, using a glamour to disguise is it whenever she wasn't alone with her baby.

She didn't know what it meant for Harry. But she would protect her child, no matter what Fate threw at her.

Hermione nervously bit her lip as she scuttled down the train, peeking into compartments as she passed them, not used to so many people. She stopped when she found a relatively empty compartment, only two children around her age sitting in it.

Well, at least she thought they were her age - one looked about right, but the other looked like he was a few years younger, but she knew that unless you were going to Hogwarts, you had to be off the train by now.

She stopped a little ways away from the door, deliberating whether or not to go in there. After a few minutes, she decided it was worth a shot. Stepping forward, Hermione opened the door, smiling a bit when both boys jumped.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" She asked.

The red-haired boy shook his head.

"Yeah, sure. I don't mind. What about you?" He asked his companion.

The other boy just nodded and smiled slightly to the girl.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, and stepped into the compartment, closing the door softly behind her.

"I'm Hermione Granger."

"Ronald Weasley."

The other boy was silent for a moment before answering.

"Harry Potter."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she walked into the Great Hall, listening to Harry and Ron argue beside her. They were now in their Third year, and she was looking forward to all the new classes. She was slightly worried though. She had read that Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban, the first person to do so since the prison was built. There was also the Dementors on the train, and their reaction to it. She was just glad that no one found out about that.

Hermione sighed as she walked out of Divination, Harry beside her. The short boy was biting his lip nervously, obviously thinking about what Professor Treawlney had just told him. Hermione couldn't help but reassure him.

"It's fine Harry. I'm sure that it won't really happen. I mean, really, Dumbledore's not evil, right?"

Famous last words.

Hermione took a deep breath as she walked through the barrier separating Platform 9 3/4 from muggle London. SHe could see Harry in front of her, nervously twisting his hands in his too big t-shirt.

She watched Ron walk up to his mum, the twins walking in front of him, pushing each other and making loud jokes even from where she was standing.

She turned her head when she heard a loud grunt, and scowled when she saw the fat muggle one of her best friends called Uncle. Now, she had nothing against muggles themselves, but this guy just didn't sit well with her.

As she walked over to where her parents were waiting, she once again thought of how much she wished Harry would have been able to go live with Sirius.

Harry rubbed tiredly at his eyes as he walked onto the train two and a half hours early the day he was due back to Hogwarts for his fifth year. His Uncle had only said he'd take him if they left at quarter to eight, as he had a business meeting at nine. The train didn't leave until eleven, though, so Harry found himself a compartment and settled down for some much needed sleep.

He woke up a little over two hours later when Hermione entered the compartment, yawning slightly herself. Harry watched through sleep clouded eyes as Hermione put all her things up by his before settling down on his right.

Harry leaned his head on her shoulder and turned to get comfortable. He felt Hermione lean her head on top of his. They fell asleep like that.

When Ron entered half an hour later, Harry opened his eyes halfway, watched Ron for a moment, before closing his eyes, shifting, and going back to sleep.

Harry coughed as he walked into the common room, covering it with the back of his left hand. His left hand was, coincidentally, the hand that had the words 'I must not tell lies' carved into the back of it. He had yet to tell Ron or Hermione, even though it had been going on for at least two weeks now. The only one who knew was Luna, who had caught him wondering the halls one night after a detention. He was pretty sure the twins new, though.

It was two weeks later that his best friends found out about what happened in detention.

To say they were unhappy would be an understatement.

Harry sat up in bed, gasping out. His hand was clutching the air in front of him, grasping for something that wasn't there. He didn't move until he felt a weight settle down beside him, and an arm reached out to pull his arm down. The same arm then wrapped itself around his torso and pulled him down. When he turned his head, he could see the bright red hair, darkened in the room lit only by the moon. The comforting warmth of his best friend was welcomed, and Harry fell back into a peaceful sleep, knowing they'd talk about his dream in the morning when they met up with Hermione.

Harry stared at the man lying on the white bed, who had his eyes closed and his breathing was deep and even. The man was pale, nearly unhealthy, with long, untamable black curly hair.

Harry could feel tears coming to his eyes as he though about the battle at the ministry, the sheer panic he had felt when Sirius had fell towards the veil. He couldn't have been more grateful when Ron had used Wingardium Leviosa stop Sirius from falling all the way.

Harry took a deep, shuddering breath as he stared at his father.

"Harry!" Ron bellowed. He ran through the forest, observant blue eyes looking for any traces if his best friend. Hermione was waiting back at the camp site, waiting for him to return with their best friend, their little brother.

But he couldn't find him. He'd been looking for Harry for hours now. It was cold. It was dark. They were in a forest that housed wild animals. Harry didn't have his wand, nor was he dressed for a midnight exploration.

He skidded to a stop when he saw a head of long black hair, the person it belonged to curled up into a small ball. Ron never thought someone aged 16 would be able to become that small, but he supposed Harry had always been able to do the impossible.

He slowly walked over to Harry, noticing the shivers and the slightly blue skin. Smiling sadly, he leaned down and picked his best friend up.

Ron could feel Hermione's back against his own, could see the shadows of their birds circling above them. He could hear their squawk's. He could see Harry running through the mass of black cloaks in front of him, a bright, vivid green against the black of the Death Eaters. He could see Harry shooting of spells with his bare hands, shots of green light the same colour as his eyes being shot of in every direction.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione repeatedly casting the purple spell that had been associated with her spell casting for years now. The bright flashes of colour, cast silently, stood out among the other spells being, most towards them, some towards each other.

Turning back to the people in front of him, Ron gathered up all his hatred for these people and cast the one spell he knew best.

Watching the red curse fly, he grinned at the man that fell to the floor screaming.

Ron looked over at Hermione and Harry. They had all been holed up in the Room of Requirements for nearly two weeks now, and they had finally had enough.

Harry wasn't completely healed from his fight with Voldemort, Hermione's magic was drained and Ron was running purely on adrenaline now. He didn't know why they had planned to do this, but this is what they were doing.

They couldn't be found. The Ministry was frantic, thinking the three of them had run of to take over another country. But no matter how much they tried, they couldn't get any other country to listen to them when they told them Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were evil. The countries refused searches, refused to believe them. Refused to believe that the three children who had almost single-handedly won the war had turned evil.

But Britain knew that they were. Or at least, the majority of Britain did. Some of it, just knew the three of them ran, because they were tired.

Over in America, in a rainy town called Forks in the state of Washington, one small, pixie like vampire rolled over on her bed, grinning excitedly at the other lying next to her.

"They're coming."