I woke up in a terrific mood, but that ended quicker than I'd of liked it to. When I stretched, I felt cramped and uncomfortable, like I had some how grown dramatically in the night. I got up and walked to my bathroom, turning on the light as I walked inside. When I looked up into the mirror, I screamed, not recognising the person in the mirror, it was then that my world went black.
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When I came to, my parents were hovering above me, whispering in hushed tones. I kept my eyes closed and strained to hear all of their conversation. "...how do you think she's going to react…" I heard my mother hiss, before regaining control and talking lower. I had never heard her speak like that before, so mean sounding. Especially to my father. "Well, how the bloody hell am I supposed to know? How exactly would you feel if you found out your WHOLE life was a complete lie. Or the cause you've been fighting so hard for is your own fathers?" I fluttered my eyes, as if I was just now waking up, oblivious to anything they may have said. "Mom? Dad? What's wrong with me?! Why do I look so… Different?" I said the word like it was a curse, because, all though I was insanely attractive now, I felt it was a curse because of whose daughter I was. Of whose blood I had running through my veins right now. The Dark Lords' of all people. I was however gorgeous. My bushy brown hair was now in elegant spirals down my back, reaching just to my waist. My once plain brown eyes were now a emerald green with starbursts of silver. Where my skin had been slightly tanned before, I could now rival Draco Malfoys paleness. I looked like a porcelain doll. Before, I had a very boyish figure, with almost no curves at all, and a B-cup. Now, I had a hourglass figure with Double D breasts and a nice bum, if I must admit.. I was brought out of my thought by my "parents" beginning to talk to me. "Well, Hermione, we ought to start at the beginning…." My father stalled. "Hermione, you're not our daughter. You're Lord Voldemort's child."
There was no sugar coating, no tenderness or anything in the tone of the woman who had raised me for seventeen years. I was shocked. I could feel myself rapidly opening and closing my mouth, trying to find something, anything really, to say. "H-how've I been kept a secret for all these years? Who are you?" They looked as if they were guilty, not quite wanting to answer my questions. However, my "father" spoke first, "Seventeen years ago, today, you were born and your mother died. Your father, at the time could not raise a child without his wife. So, he entrusted you into our care, his most loyal followers of course," my "mother" and "father" puffed their chests up in pride at this, and I felt momentarily disgusted. "You're deatheaters." It was more of a statement then a question. "Yes." They both replied simply and at the same time. "We raised you as a muggle, in the muggle world, and lived the muggle way for your safety. If anyone would have found out that the Dark Lord, had had a child, your safety would have always been threatened. We suppose your fathers glamour charm was much, much more ancient and complicated than a regular glamour charm, because not only has it lasted for seventeen years, but it also somehow fooled the sorting hat into putting you into Gryffindor, instead of Slytherin." I slowly let all of this new information sink in. I wasn't sure what I would tell people. I was different now. As this thought ran through my mind, a owl came through the open window and dropped a letter from Hogwarts in my lap. It was addressed to "Miss. Riddle" thats me now...