Chapter 27: Wherein Australia is visited by the Men In Black.
Summary: This is what happens when you ask Harry Potter for help.
Harry didn't accompany them, but he had coached them on their lines and even insisted they all sit around in his nearly finished townhouse and watch a muggle device rebroadcast a recorded play. He insisted that while few muggles believed that aliens existed, most of them believed in secret government ministries which kept secret things secret, and traditionally they all wore black suits.
The black sunglasses were debated long and hard, but in the end, they all gave in to Harry's expertise.
The issue at hand was, of course, that there was a blood magic ritual that would work perfectly. It was easy to perform, quick to finish and Hermione would be available to donate blood for it. Afterwards there would be a period of time where both sets of memories would seem equally real, but after a few days, the implanted wishes and memories would fade and be like a dream remembered, and the natural personality and desires of the person would be allowed to come to the fore once more.
The only, single, solitary difficulty was that the participants all had to give their consent.
Viktor who would do the ritual and Hermione who would donate blood, their consent was not an issue. But the Grangers-cum-Wilkinses?
This issue of what constituted consent was debated heavily, but Viktor was extremely clear and absolutely resolved. Sleeping did not count. Imperius did not count. Coercion of any kind did not count. They did not need to consent to participating in a blood ritual, per se, but they had to consent to a procedure that would return their memories and old identities.
It seemed like an insurmountable impossibility, until Narcissa suggested they turn to Harry.
"Is there any person or people in the culture of British muggles of whom an individual or couple would willingly believe outlandish stories about going into hiding, and submit to procedures or rituals to reclaim memories or identities?"
It had taken Harry thirty seconds. They had been agonizing for two months.
Harry had explained about Witness Protection Programs, and how they were real, and used, and maybe even harder to bear than what Hermione had to do, but that it was also an open secret that governments used them when criminals were targeting witnesses.
Harry had explained about the men in black and various theories. The "movie" from America had helped and they had all procured black suits, though Minerva had balked at wearing trousers. They also created identification that Harry deemed convincing enough, and, yes, eventually, there were sunglasses.
Narcissa, Harry decided, needed to do all the talking. Minerva's accent was too disarming, Viktor's accent was too aggressive, and Narcissa's RP level of posh would be more convincing, not less.
And so they made a script, heavily leaning on the movie. They called and made an appointment the day before to see both of the doctors in their home at seven in the morning on Thursday, December 2nd, claiming to be immigration officials, and Harry helped to navigate them through both that conversation and the use of the telephone.
At half past eight in the evening in the timezone to which they were all accustomed, Narcissa knocked on the door of the neat-as-a-pin cottage in the bright morning sunlight of Adelaide.
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with us before your day begins, Dr. and Dr. Wilkins. We know you are very busy people, so we won't take up much of your time. No, we won't take any tea, thank you. Allow me to get straight to the point. We are from a special division of the British government in charge of Witness Protection Services."
"Are you MI5?" Mr. Granger demanded.
"That information is classified," Narcissa demurred. "However, I can tell you, because I understand you will not remember, the danger for you and your family has passed, and it is appropriate that you come out of hiding. You have loved ones who miss you."
"But we're not in a witness protection program. We just… always wanted to live in Australia. It's been a dream of ours for ages," Mrs. Granger protested.
"And we don't have any family!" Mr. Granger argued.
Narcissa looked deeply into Mrs. Granger's eyes. "You don't have a mother in Provence?" she asked quietly, and waited for a response.
In silence one of Mrs. Granger's hands sought out her husband's on the couch, and the other clutched at her own mouth, a dawning look of horror cresting over her face. "Oh, my God," she whispered after a moment. She looked slowly to her husband, her eyes wide as saucers. "How could I have forgotten about Maman?"
After another moment of silence when she clearly had both of their undivided attention, Narcissa spoke again. "The knowledge of your mother wasn't buried very deeply, just put aside, and as you see, it came back with a simple mention of her. We do have an easy, non-invasive procedure that will allow the rest of your memories to come back gently, but you must give your consent, or it won't work."
Narcissa let that sink in for a moment.
"I don't know," Mr. Granger said, wavering. "We love our life here. We don't miss England."
"When the procedure is complete, you needn't move home if you don't wish to. But you will remember the people you left. The daughter you left."
Mr. Granger blustered, but Mrs. Granger clutched at her heart, her face an essay of agony with which Narcissa could well commiserate.
"I'll do it," Mrs. Granger gasped, her hand still over her heart.
"Monica!" her husband cried, outraged and confused.
She turned to him and they all watched silently as the drama unfolded, silently sending thanks to Harry, and St. Cyril. In a whisper, Mrs. Granger tearfully implored her husband to understand. "Something has been missing! I love our new home, our practice, but ever since we moved, something has been missing, and I haven't known what it was! I haven't know what it was!"
Mrs. Granger turned back to Narcissa and with a stronger voice asked, "Can you do it now? Here? Or do I need to go somewhere? Should I call in and cancel my appointments for the day?"
"It won't take long," Narcissa said, backing up and making room for Viktor. "My associate will perform the procedure. Remain calm, and it will be over in a moment."
Viktor stepped up to his mother-in-law and crouched down to her seated level, pulled the small phial of blood out of his inner coat pocket, opened it and put his thumb over the end. A flick of the wrist coated a small portion of his thumb in Hermione's blood and when he reached out to put it on her forehead, he did not flinch when all at once there was movement all around him.
Mr. Granger leaned in to bat his hand away, calling him a thug and wanting to know what he was doing with that phial of blood.
Narcissa hissed for him not to interrupt and her hand shot out and an unseen force pinned him back. Not quite a petrificus totalis, just a momentary binding, and he fell back into the couch cushions, silent and still.
Viktor continued, his focus pure. He sang in Bulgarian, the brief ritual for the blood to call to blood and remember blood, as his bloody thumb pressed into Mrs. Granger's third-eye. When he was done, he removed his thumb and the blood on her forehead absorbed into her skin. He stepped back to allow Narcissa to continue and sucked the blood off of his thumb, which was the only safe way to dispose of it. They had all agreed not to use an athame of Hermione's, as coming at their heads with a sharp knife was not the way to induce calm and compliance.
"I apologize for restraining you, Dr. Wilkins. I could not have you interfering with the procedure," Narcissa said, her voice calm and reasonable, and she flicked her fingers and ended the jinx.
"What the hell was that?" Mr. Granger shouted.
"Professor McGonagall?" Mrs. Granger asked in a wondering tone.
"Good morning, Dr. Granger. I am very glad to see that the procedure worked as well as we had hoped. How are you feeling?"
"I… Um… A little dazed, I think. I'm sorry," she said after a moment. "Should I know all of you?"
"Allow me to introduce my associates," Minerva said gently. "This is Lady Narcissa, Countess Black, and Mr. Viktor Krum, lately of Bulgaria."
"Viktor Krum? The one who dated Hermione in…" Mrs. Granger paused as the other shoe dropped. "Hermione!" She looked frantically about the room. "Where is Hermione? Is she alright?"
"Hermione is perfectly safe, and she is well, and she misses you terribly," Narcissa said quietly. "We are here at her request."
"I… Thank you. Thank you," said Mrs. Granger as the tears began to fall.
"What the hell is going on? Monica?" Mr. Granger shouted in a horrified whisper, and no one faulted him for not enjoying the confused state of his emotions.
"Can, can you bring her here? Hermione?" Mrs. Granger asked, ignoring her husband and getting choked up on her daughter's name.
"I'll send her a message," Narcissa replied, and she stepped away again, pulled her wand and manifested her patronus, a glowing white dove. "Hermione dear, use the locket. Your mother wishes to speak to you," she told the dove and it soared up and away. She walked further away, into a very open part of the room without any furniture and Viktor followed her. She held the hand with the Black signet ring on it as far away from herself as she could, and Viktor walked right up to her hand and held his arms out, as if holding something. They both looked up.
"What's going on?" Mr. Granger asked quietly, perhaps panicking. His wife took up his hand and shushed him.
"Magic," she responded quietly. "Magic," she whispered, looking up to where the others did. "I think it must be a portkey," she whispered. "It's the only way to come so quickly, so far," she continued, still staring at the ceiling. "It must have been Hermione's blood he used." All she said was in a whisper.
"Who's Hermione?" he asked desperately, his voice almost inaudible.
"Your little girl," she whispered back. "Hermione Jean. You chose her first name, I chose her second. It was the first year of our practice. We thought it would be so hard, but it wasn't. Hermione was always-"
Viktor caught Hermione easily and held her for a moment before putting her back on her feet.
"Hermione!" Mrs. Granger sprang up from her seat on the couch with her husband and caught her daughter in a hug.
"MUM!" Hermione yelled, but was muffled by the embrace. "I thought I'd never get you back again. I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
Her mother shushed her and rocked her and told her it was fine, fine, everything was fine, now.
Viktor quietly made his way across the room and crouched down in front of his father-in-law.
"Would you like to remember your daughter, sir?" he asked quietly.
Hermione looked up, her face tearstained. "Daddy?"
Mr. Granger gasped softly and whispered, "She looks just like my mother." He took a faltering breath and looked at the man in front of him. "Do it," he breathed.
When it was all over and a moment or two had passed to let the initial shock wear away, Minerva addressed them all.
"We'll be going now. Hermione, you will be excused from classes and residency until Monday morning, and do remember the time and date difference. When you wish to return, call your elves. I expect you and your parents have quite a bit to talk about."
"Wait!" Hermione yelped, and extracted herself from her parents' embrace.
She threw her arms around each of them in turn, thanking them profusely, and no one denied her the moment of gratitude.
Narcissa smiled silently and gently patted the side of her face when Hermione was finished with her, and if her smile was bittersweet and tinged in deep sorrow, no one commented.
Minerva blustered only slightly and distracted herself by propping her own sunglasses on the top of Hermione's head. "They look better on you, I think," she said.
Her hug with Viktor lasted perhaps the longest, and it was clear they were whispering to each other, though no one invaded their brief moment of privacy. It ended soon enough and well before eyebrows were raised.
The three gathered around, boy, mother, and crone, and they all touched Minerva's signet ring, including Minerva herself.
"Hogwarts," she said plainly, and then they were gone.
The room was silent for a long moment.
"What's this, then?" Mrs. Granger asked, holding up Hermione's hand that bore a signet ring and perhaps most importantly a rather ostentatious diamond engagement ring.
"We're gone for ten minutes and you go and get engaged?" Mr. Granger asked, a good-natured grin across his face.
The elder Grangers exchanged a look.
"I'll make coffee," Mrs. Granger announced.
"I'll call us in and clear us until next week," Mr. Granger agreed.
Hermione, for her part, adjusted Minerva's RayBans over her eyes and fell silently onto the sofa, laughing and crying at the same time.
Hermione was enjoying the last few hours of her parents' company. Many things had been sorted, all had been forgiven, and her heart was lighter than she ever remembered it being.
No decisions about moving country would be made any time soon, and they were all happily agreed to it. The Grangers would travel via elf back and forth to Britain for now, and they would spend almost the entirety of Hermione's Christmas break with her either in the castle in Wales or in the cottage at Ramsgate, depending on what decisions were made. They would take a few days to check on their house and decide if there were more belongings they wanted with them in Australia for now.
They had privately decided to take some time and consider whether their old house really made them happy any more, or if perhaps they should contact an estate agent while they were in-country and start the ball rolling to let it go. Certainly in several weeks they would be able to have a better sense of where they wanted to live.
Everyone had time to adjust to the brief but honest account of the war Hermione had given over the course of a few hours, and were glad that after that the admissions and changes to their daughter's life took a decidedly brighter turn.
They both cried when Hermione showed them her scars, the one on her arm no less than the one across her chest.
They were so proud when she told them she was going to be knighted. They were shocked when she told them that Lady Narcissa had offered to make Hermione her heir. They both had to sit down when Hermione revealed the implications of being the only extant Pendragon. Giddy laughter followed, when Hermione revealed that she was now in possession, in fact, of Henry V's crown. Actually. Actually.
And they told Hermione how they had been settling in, the new friends they'd made, their neighbors both kind and nosy, their patients. They brainstormed about what to do about their names. Their undercover names felt as normal to them at present as their natural ones did, but it felt very, very wrong to have a work visa under a fake passport. Hermione promised to have a quiet word with the Minister of Magic and see if anything could be done retrospectively to put things on a more legal footing, in case they wanted to stay in Australia, though it's possible they might have to immigrate all over again. When her parents balked at yet more subterfuge, lies, and illegal activity, Hermione pointed out that to the wizarding government, it was the statute of secrecy that was all important, and muggle laws were regularly bent or broken in order to maintain it.
When the conversation circled back to Viktor for the fourth time in as many days, after much prompting Hermione shyly admitted to a torrid love affair that drove her father from the house muttering under his breath and found Hermione and her mother conversing in hushed tones over the kitchen table, gestures and quiet words punctuated by laughter at things like stamina drills, and using a time machine to have more time for intimacy.
And then the time drew to a close, as they knew it would. Hermione's clothes had been laundered and she stopped wearing her mother's things. Promises were made to write and the Twins were introduced and memorized the location. As Hermione would leave Hogwarts directly after the leaving feast on the 22nd, they would arrive on the morning of the 23rd more or less the same time the Krums would be arriving by floo, having been brought by one of their elves to Black Cottage.
When the elf wearing a tie-dyed pillowcase snapped her fingers, both elves and Hermione were gone, but for the first time in a while, she was out of sight, but not out of mind.