A/N: This fits on p106 of Deathly Hallows, in between the paragraphs "Ron started to laugh, …" and "The Delacours arrived…" – a conversation between the three of them about the Horcrux hunt has just been broken up by a furious Mrs. Weasley, who has now sent them to sort gifts.
11. Half Five on the Fourth Floor
Hermione took one look at the pile of gifts and grimaced. "Ginny'll certainly need help with the linens," she said quickly. Before either one of them could object, she was down the stairs.
Once she was out of earshot, Harry blurted out the question he'd been itching to ask since Hermione had mentioned it: "She's not serious?"
Ron picked up a gift and examined it, apparently hoping to play dumb; this was entirely unsatisfactory.
"She Obliviated her parents?"
"She didn't Obliviate them," Ron hissed irritably, throwing a look over his shoulder as if afraid he might see her there, "and keep your voice down, you useless tosspot."
"They're in Australia, though," Harry said weakly. "I did hear that correctly?"
Ron ran a hand though his already quite messy hair and sighed heavily. "Yeah. Yeah, they are."
A painful wave of guilt washed over Harry. In order to join him in the search for Horcruxes, Ron and Hermione had been forced to go to impossible lengths to ensure the safety of their loved ones. And in Hermione's case, the only interventions that she felt were safe enough were potentially irreversible and plausibly damaging, even with her impeccable spellwork.
As it was, he couldn't quite work out how the hell she could've possibly modified the memories of her parents well enough to convince them to move to another continent and entirely forget their identities without Obliviating them.
"She showed up just outside the wards looking like… I dunno what," Ron said. "She had sent her Patronus letting me know she was coming, so I met her at the gate."
It seemed as though this was the end of what he was intending to share.
Unsatisfied by this, Harry said, "Right, and…"
Ron shook his head. "It was late, so I couldn't really tell what was going on—at first I thought she was hurt, something seemed really wrong, but then I realized she was just…" Ron paused and seemed to search for an accurate word before arriving on, "…upset."
Harry thought this was an interesting statement considering that the both of them had seen Hermione varying levels of upset more times than they could count, and at no point had Ron ever looked this shaken.
"I pulled her into the garden and asked her what was going on, but she couldn't really talk much at that point, she was in such a state. I had no idea what to do, I was about to go get Mum because she was so busted up—"
"Bet she didn't want that," Harry said softly.
Ron snorted. "Hell if I cared—you didn't see her, Harry. I was—"
What he was, Harry did not find out; it seemed that Ron could not find a word to sufficiently describe it. He dropped his head into his scarred hands, looking rather faint.
After a few silent moments, Harry said gently, "Not trying to bash you, mate; I'm just saying—she must've started talking after that, yeah?"
Ron nodded into his palms. "Yeah. Said she'd 'changed their memories.' I know what you're thinking," he said quickly upon raising his head and seeing the look on Harry's face, "because I thought the same thing. Didn't believe her at first—"
"Imagine that went over well—"
"—but it was stupid, really, to think I could possibly know more about magic than her." He frowned. "Just think, people actually think that because she's Muggle-born she can't possibly be the smartest witch to ever walk the planet. There's not a single Pureblood at Hogwarts that could out-duel her, I'm certain of it."
Although Hermione was no doubt a genius, Harry was not certain that, at this point in time, she was the smartest witch to ever walk the planet; now did not seem to be the time to discuss the matter further.
"So if she didn't Obliviate them, then…?"
"You think I understand it? Memory charms, I'd wager. Don't think any of it was Dark Magic, but even so, she had to do what she had to do, didn't she? You-Know-Who would kill them without a second thought, probably even enjoy it, wouldn't he?"
The question was rhetorical. Harry did not answer.
"She snuck into their room right after they fell asleep, did some barmy spells from books probably Dumbledore himself never even read, then got the hell out of there so they wouldn't wake up to a total stranger in their house."
Harry had only met the Grangers a handful of times in passing, but he knew they were lovely people that doted on their daughter. Because Hermione was an only child with markedly above average intelligence and markedly below average friendships before her time at Hogwarts, they were a close-knit family of three, and the thought of her sending them away at all—let alone to help Harry carry out a plan that he felt only he was responsible for executing—made him sick to his stomach.
Ron took a glance at Harry's face and grimaced at whatever expression he saw there.
"Yeah," he said darkly in acknowledgment. "She did all sorts of research because she wanted to do it perfectly—which she did, of course—took down all the photos, magicked her room into a guest room—you'd never know she ever existed, she said. Couldn't sell the house, though, what with all their stuff there and the fact that the plan is, y'know, for this to be reversible."
Harry appraised Ron's paling face and said, "So what, then? They're wandering round the Opera House homeless?"
"No, you git," Ron said sourly. "Between their savings and all of Hermione's Muggle and wizarding savings, she found them a tiny place in Pannawonica—little town, very off-the-grid, but—and don't tell her I said this—I did some research at the library in Ottery St. Mary, and Merlin's pants, you'd think she could've picked somewhere with less sharks—save them from You-Know-Who, yeah, but at what cost—?"
Harry chose not to comment on the significance of Ron Weasley visiting a library ever, let alone to independently research Australian geography because Hermione was sending her parents there.
"Bonkers, really," Ron said tiredly after a moment. "Truly. D'you ever think about what this—the war, I mean—was like the first time round?"
His parents. Sirius. Gideon and Fabian Weasley. The Longbottoms, in their own way. The list of people they'd lost last time went on and on, it seemed. Harry wondered if it would be even longer this time.
"Not sure I want to," he said. "Anyway—we ought to get to the gifts or your mum'll skin us, don't you think?"
"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Ron. He groaned at the spread before them. "After all this, maybe we'll be glad for a little excitement, don't you think?"
"Yeah," said Harry noncommittally, very much unconvinced that this was true. "Maybe."
They locked eyes, and then they were both laughing so hard that their sides hurt.
"Mental," Ron said when they'd quieted down enough to breathe. "The pair of us—absolute nutters."