Everything was dark, with a strong odor of dust and mold. Hermione's eyes needed to adjust before she started to move. It had been many months since she had stepped foot here, and she needed a moment to gather herself. Deciding she had enough time, she started to move towards the wall in search of a light switch. After stumbling over something in her path, she remembered she had her wand and lit the tip.
Tears burned at her eyes when she saw the state of the living room. Nothing was how it was left. Furniture was pushed over, drawers opened with their contents dumped out. The room had a feel of some darkness, and her heart dropped as she made the sudden realization. If she had not sent her parents to Australia, the Death Eaters would have found them here at the house, and tortured them for information about her.
Her mind started racing. Should she cleaned up the place, or should she leave it as is? Would going back to Harry and asking for help make her less of a person? First thing first, if she was to bring her parents home, they need a home to return to, not a mess. But how was she to find the paper with the important information with the place wrecked? Suddenly, the perfect idea hit her.
Looking around the living room, she used her wand to put things back into place. The chairs were put upright, cleaned and cushions fluffed. Tables put back together and polished, drawers put back into place, as well as the items inside in their perfect places. Every scrap of paper was looked at thoroughly, charmes used incase she had hidden the words.
From the living room, she moved into the kitchen, the dinning room, the entryway, up the stairs, down the hallway. She hesitated outside her parent's bedroom, and wanted to do her own room last, knowing she would stop once she sat down on her bed. A grumble from her stomach forced her to take a break. She went down to the kitchen to make herself something to eat. The whole time, her mind was constantly thinking of where she could have left it.
While washing her dishes the muggle way, an owl tapped on the window. Hesitantly, she let it in, grabbing the note from its leg. No sooner that the owl was relieved of its parcel did it take off, apparently a response was not needed. Opening it up, she read the short note from Harry "I am here if you need to talk, be brave." For some reason, this triggered something, she remembered the attic, where her parents kept all their storage.
She pulled down the stairs to enter the attic. Luckily, most of the attic was just as she remembered it. It looked as if the Death Eaters had entered, saw it was mostly a bunch of junk, and left it alone. Thinking this would be a place for her to hide the information, she started opening boxes, living the memories in the photos and small objects.
A new idea crossed her mind. She began to grab items that reminded her of all the fun times with her parents. She found photos from their wedding, her mother's pregnancy with her, as well as family trips. She kept looking through boxes, laughing and crying over the contents.
But there was one trunk in the corner she had yet to open. This one looked out of place among the cardboards boxes, the wood worn out and leather straps cracking. There were markings carved into the wood, they looked oddly familiar.
She looked at the lock on the trunk and charmed it open. The lid opened with a loud squeak. The contents were full of random items, some looked broken, some looked really old. She found all sorts of papers. This would take a long time to go through, she thought. Wanting to be more comfortable, she closed the trunk, shrunk it down, and took it with her.
She went down to her bedroom, cleaned it up without even looking at the items for her self note. It was getting late, so she decided to wait on opening the trunk until the morning. Grabbing a random book off the shelf, she settled herself into bed and prepared to read. There was something marking a page in the book, an envelope. She opened the book up, looking at the large picture displayed on the left page. This could not be right. She looked at the cover of the book, "Pureblood Families And Their Histories." Her eyes widened. The trunk could not wait any longer.