July 20, 1981 Things are getting worse. I have told Dumbledore all I know of the Dark Lord's plans and still he is gaining power. The Order has suffered major blows as of late and I am left to wonder how much longer it will be possible for them to stay alive let alone a viable risk to the Dark Lord. Fabian and Gideon Prewatt were killed by a raid specifically planned for them and led by Dolohov just a week ago. Dolohov has never been known for quick or merciful deaths and was insistent it went on for hours. No one had told me that it had been planned; the Dark Lord has ordered me away from the raids and has instead been having me brew a large amount of basic medicinal potions. I can't help but feel that something major is planned. Everyone seems to be on edge but no one has mentioned any large scale offenses being planned. There are rumors we have gained a spy in the Order however such things always circulate whenever the Dark Lord is able to get the jump on the Order.
Looking up from the book that as the days turned seemed more and more to become a diary of sorts for Snape, Hermione straightened, her spine popping its protest at the movement. Rubbing soothing circles into her lower back, she took in what she had read. While he had transcribed dates and general information it was far from the exacting details she would have preferred. She would have to rely on what sparse information she did have, she didn't expect to be able to collaborate the stories to what would be in the Prophet. It may make mention of deaths but the details would be swept aside in favor of the paranoia inherent in war. Journalists that did their reporting too closely often found themselves targets when the perpetuators of crime were running about with impunity and reading the papers themselves.
The old clock that hung crookedly from the far wall of the kitchen seemed to admonish her, reading half past three. Giving it up for the night, she packed up the ledgers-turned-diaries and took them with her up to her room where Crookshanks had already taken up his spot on the bed. Leaving the books on her nightstand, she made her way to the bathroom. Years of her parents careful harping had caused her to develop a routine of personal hygiene that would not be by-passed even if she was falling over tired.
Sighing around her toothpaste, Hermione couldn't help but dread the upcoming farewells and goodbyes that couldn't even be truly that. She couldn't very well tell Harry and Ron that she was off to the time of their parents. They would either want to come or would want to stop her. Most likely stop her. Harry would no doubt argue that he had defeated Voldemort once before and could be counted on again. But, they had families now. Seven years out from the battle of Hogwarts and both her closest friends had settled down both professionally and emotionally. Harry was father to one little boy named James and Ginny looked ready to burst with their second. Ron had settled down with a fellow auror and they were happily expecting their first child. They had so much to lose in the looming war than Hermione could bear to think of.
It felt odd though, to be contemplating going on some grand adventure without her boys with her, completing her as she completed them. While the dynamic had changed with the addition of spouses and little ones, the strength of their bond had never lessened. Something for which she was supremely grateful for. Ginny being in their group had never altered their dynamic, instead adding to the balance. Instead of Harry being in the middle of a row between Ron and herself, Ginny could intercede. If Ginny and Harry were fighting, both she and Ron could conquer and divide. Something that had provided Hermione with no shortage of girls' nights out laughing so hard that their sides hurt. But, their group had expanded the second Ginny had announced the happy news. In some corner of her heart, she had hoped it could have always stay like it was. It just felt so right, so natural to have the dynamic as it was.
That wistfulness had disinigrated when she had been asked to be the godmother of their son. Her family was growing. It also helped that Harry had been on cloud nine during the entire pregnancy and seeing him hold his son for the first time had brought her swiftly to tears. He had held the infant as if the most precious thing in the entire world, like he could simply not believe how lucky he was. While her sudden crying had been the subject of much laughter for a year and a half now, Hermione stood by the fact that it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen and if she felt like crying she was going to bloody well cry!
Her relationship with Ron was one should would never be able to pin down to words. It felt a bit to her like what a brother and sister was but decidedly different. Their brief time as lovers had been tempestuous but breathtaking. It had been decided after two months of fighting and, ahem, making up that the decision to break it off had been made. They had both agreed it would be for the best and it did not take Ron long to find the love of his life.
When Ron had flooed into her office a month after they had broken up looking like he wanted to throw up, she had carefully set aside her work to give the man her undivided attention. When he had finally spilled the beans that he was seeing someone and hoping that she wouldn't be mad at him being that it was so soon after the end of their relationship she had stood, hugged him, and told him to stop being silly. She suspected he had thought he would be receiving another round of canaries to his face instead of her whole-hearted support and ignored the way he had stiffened when she had hugged him, no doubt worried she might decide to hex him just yet.
With the mumbled reprimand of, "Honestly, Ronald." He had relaxed into the hug. With that, the matter had been settled.
Shaking her head of her thoughts and resolutely finishing her nighttime regime, Hermione snuggled into her bed eager to let herself drift off in oblivion.
Waking up with a cat on one's face was, in Hermione's opinion, the quickest way to not only scare one half to death but get one up in the morning. Snapping up into a sitting position, she was rather pleased to see Crookshanks fall onto the floor with a less than graceful thud.
"Serves you right!" Narrowing her eyes at her familiar she swung her legs out of the bed careful not to accidentally step on the cat that was shooting her a rather disgruntled look.
"Now, I don't suppose you can give me a moment, your highness?" She enquired, moving towards the bathroom to tame the mass that was her hair. Emerging downstairs minutes later, she fed him before moving on to fish an apple out of the fridge and put on the kettle.
There was so much yet to do. Only being halfway through Snape's journals left her feeling unprepared to even start combing the Prophet. Not to mention there was the grating task of trying to flesh out her cover story. Dumbledore had given her precious little to go on; merely that she should be from India. Biting into her apple she mulled over her options. She would need a basis for having Seer in her heritage as well as giving reason for why she wouldn't have an accent, at least not as thickly as a local would. Not to mention, her rather pale complexion would seem odd to claim Indian heritage with.
Collecting her tea in one hand and making her way to the living room that was more library than a space to entertain, she reseated herself in her comfiest chair. Setting down her tea and apple to collect her laptop from the nearby side table she set about looking for a detailed map of the subcontinent. It would be better to be from a less known city rather than a bustling metropolis like New Delhi where records were more likely to be kept, she decided. Being from the northern part of India would also help to explain her light skin pigmentation; she narrowed down, looking north of Delhi as her eyes settled on the name Shimla. Looking into the history of the city, she was pleased to note that it had become the summer capital of the British Raj in 1863 and had a long history of British involvement in the area. It was perfect, providing a workable explanation for Indian heritage while also providing a British background.
She decided that her father would have been British and her mother Indian from a long line of well to-do that had married into the British elite who had come to the area. Her 'Seer' abilities, the very thought made her snort aloud with distaste, could come from her mother's side. With that settled she also quickly concluded they would have to be out of the picture. Reclaiming her tea and taking a fortifying swig of it she mused on. Yes, she could be seeking to come to live in Europe to reconnect with her father after having grown up in the county of her mother. Smiling to herself, she felt like she had a rather workable cover. She could explain away her paleness, her English accent, as well as why should would suddenly drop her life in India to come to a strange country.
Now, for the name. Puzzling over a nice mix of names that would nod to both sides of her 'heritage' she recalled a girl she had gone to school with when she was eight by the name of Maya Dunn who had been Indian. The girl had a rather nasty temper that had been the cause of more than one bout of accidental magic on Hermione's part. The girl had soon learned to leave Hermione alone once her favorite doll had suddenly been found sticking halfway out of a tree in the playground. Giving a small shrug of her shoulders, she resigned herself to being called the name of a childhood bully.
Feeling marginally more accomplished than she had when she had woken up, she stowed away her laptop in the nearby drawer and ambled to the kitchen, intent on asking Ron and Harry to make some time in their busy schedules for her in the next week.
Being the Brain of the Golden Trio had prepared Hermione well for the task of burying herself in work and only popping up when pesky things like missed meals and sleep began to weigh too heavily on her. After a full day of combing through northern Indian culture as well as firing off letters to friends, family, and Minerva to seek her approval of her cover story Hermione was ravenous. Making her way to the coat closet and grabbing the warmest jacket she had along with her bag and scarf Hermione resolutely walked out of her apartment to begin the process of visiting all those she would miss.
Locking the door while squirming into her coat, Hermione did a quick pat down of her hair that had risen to Bride of Frankenstein like proportions from combing her fingers through it all day. Nodding to herself that she had done everything necessary, she turned on the spot and apparated. Turning up in a quiet neighborhood blanketed with a healthy cover of snow which made it seem all the more picturesque. Squaring her shoulders she quickly began walking to avoid any muggles catching sight of a woman appearing out of thin air.
Silently thanking whoever had decency to shovel the walkway she made her way towards her parents' home while stuffing her wand into her bag. Knocking her shoes against the steps to dislodge what snow had gathered on her trainers she knocked on the door and was rewarded by the sound of someone shuffling around inside.
"Hermione, dear, what are you doing here?" Jane Granger exclaimed, taking in the sight of her daughter standing on her doorstep looking worse for the wear with deep bags under her eyes.
"I just wanted to come by, Mom. I'm sorry for not calling. I was just in the area." With a shrug of her shoulders she looked past her mother to the smiling face of her father.
Reaching around his wife to gather his daughter up into a hug, George Granger was not pleased to find she had lost weight again, "Hermione, you're skin and bones." Holding her out at arm's length to inspect his only child he was not pleased with what he found, "Some things never change. You, young lady, have not been eating and sleeping properly."
Torn between smiling and rolling her eyes in exasperation Hermione decided to settle for brushing past her parents to get inside, "Yes, Dad. I have been eating and sleeping, it's just been rather busy at work." If she hadn't been turning around to hang up her coat she would have missed the haunted expression that passed over her parents' faces. Ever since she had modified their memories any talk of the magical world, no matter how oblique, was painfully unwelcome in the Granger household. Even the notion that their daughter worked in the magical world seemed to be something they would rather not think about. While it was hard for Hermione not to be able to tell her parents about the inroads she was making in her research it seemed a very small matter when she saw how they would flinch whenever her wand would come into view from where it was tucked in her bag when she visited.
Pushing on, Hermione hung her coat on the stand, putting her purse next to it. Noticing the tip of her wand peeping out from the side pocket of her bag she threw her scarf on top of it. Best not to scare them anymore than they already were, she reasoned.
"I'll just be in the kitchen then," Mrs. Granger gestured vaguely to the other room and offered her daughter a small smile.
"I'll be in to help in a minute," waving away her mother's automatic refusal she plowed on. "I got a new computer and I want to tell Dad about it." Her father's eyes lit up as if she had just announced she had bought it for him instead of herself.
Seating herself on the family couch with her father in his favorite armchair seemed like the most natural thing in the world. It was their spot, where they had debated philosophy and literature more times than she could count. Tucking her feet underneath herself, she settled into a comfortable position for what she knew would be a long discussion. She had built up a nice collection of electronic goods over the years, one of the ways she still connected with her parents who had asked she not talk about magic around them after she had given them back their memories and told them the whole story. It had hurt her terribly to have her parents blatantly reject a part of her that was as vital as any limb. Only the knowledge that they still continued to talk to her when she had expected them to want nothing to do with her had held her tongue from pleading with them to accept that part of her like they once had.
So, as a way to bridge the gap, she had taken up a lively interest in electronics and other muggle inventions. When her father had gotten a laptop, she had gone out to get one the next chance she got. While it was far from personal, talking with her dad about the processing speed in order to hear him get excited about speaking with her was well worth it.
After a lively debate on what exactly a computer needed to be considered 'good', her father maintaining that a computer without solitaire was no computer at all, Hermione excused herself to the kitchen.
"What are you making, Mom?" Taking a delicate whiff of the air she noted it had something of an earthy scent.
"Palak paneer, it's an Indian dish. Your father and I have been getting sick of having the same meals all the time so we've decided to shake things up a bit. Would you roll out the roti?" Mrs. Granger was in her element in the kitchen, always a proficient chef in Hermione's childhood she had become nothing short of excellent after Hermione had gone away to Hogwarts, freeing up some of her time to make more intricate meals. Her mother's meal choice struck her, making her impeding journey seem much closer than thirteen days away.
Taking a small ball of dough and placing it on the wooden board, Hermione carefully rolled it out and placed it in a pan to brown. Getting the next ball of dough ready by rolling it in flour before taking a rolling pin to flatten it Hermione let herself enjoy simply having the presence of her family around it. While she had not gone home much during her time at Hogwarts, in the years following she had made an effort to come back as much as possible. Making dinner with her mother had quickly become one of her favorite things to do when visiting. Jane Granger was not a talkative woman by nature but the love she put into her actions spoke loudly of her deep caring for family and friends alike. Connecting with her mother like this was one of the things that had helped Hermione in her recovery after the war, someone who was just there. No questions or demands of her. Just love.
While her parents would never be her parents in the same way again, having this night with her family soothed Hermione as it had when she was small and afraid of the dark. Her parents' steady love and affection had convinced her younger self that nothing would happen so long as they were there. Now, though she knew her parents would not be able to be there for her in the same way, she would always know they loved her and supported her, no matter the price.
Turning over the roti to cook on the other side she couldn't help but be amazed as her mother bustled about the kitchen with all the grace of a ballerina, "Mom, when did you start cooking?"
Taking in the question Mrs. Granger continued to set the table, "Well, I was in Uni and the food my roommate made was terrible. The poor girl was so absent-minded she would burn everything and didn't have much in the way of time so anything she did try to make was a variant on the same dish. I had never had stir-fry so much in my life!" Laughing fondly, she continued. "After about a week of it, I decided then and there that I was going to learn to cook if it killed me, which, if I had let her keep cooking it would have! But, it worked out rather well once I got the hang of it. I enjoyed it because it took my mind off my studies and gave me time to just relax. Why do you ask dear?"
"Well, you've always been so good at it and I realized I never really asked after it." Giving her mother a lopsided smile she couldn't help but think that her mother's roommate reminded her of another absent-minded woman she knew. Imagining Luna Lovegood in the kitchen left her with a mild sensation of panic.
In truth, she wanted to absorb every iota of her parents that she could. All the little idiosyncrasies of them and store them away like precious gold. While she had not broken down into tears upon accepting her mission, she could honestly say she hadn't felt as she did now since being on the hunt for horcruxes. Bursts of desperation and panic dancing along the edges of her mind, forcing her to take calming breathes.
Smiling her way through dinner, she made a point to hug both of her parents tightly before she left for the night. If they noticed that she seemed to linger in the doorway longer than usual, they made no comment aside from telling her of their love for her. Echoing the statement, she was back out onto the street with lamplight to guide her as she made her way to a dark area where she could safely leave from.
Looking back to take in the sight of her childhood home for one last time, she steeled herself. It wouldn't do to splinch herself because she wasn't putting her mind to its task. Turning on her heel, she disappeared from the quiet neighborhood with a crack of finality. Taking off her coat in the warmth of her own home and unwinding her scarf from her neck gave her something to keep her hands busy as the thought kept flooding through her mind.
Going to teach in Hogwarts in the 1980s meant not having her connection to the muggle world, her parents. The people who had taken her on exotic vacations, instilled in her the love of reading, and grounded her throughout her life. While she could admit the relationship was no longer as rock solid as it had been, the idea of losing her biological family as well as her family of friends left her feeling melancholy. Not to mention, being a muggleborn had been one of her reasons to fight in the war. To lose what had quite literally made her who she was made her feel like a boat adrift.
Sitting down on the ground she scooped up the ginger cat that had been making his way to the living room and buried her head in his fur. Breathing deeply she tried to calm her mind and make peace with the situation. She had agreed to this mission knowing full well that it would be the hardest thing she had ever done. It would be beyond the scope of altering her parents' memory; it would be erasing her all together. Hermione Granger would be, in some ways, gone. Surgically removed and implanted elsewhere without her support system to help her.
"It's just you and me, Crooks." Mumbling into his fur she could practically feel his put upon expression. "I know. I'm being rather silly. I'm just very glad I can take you with me." Giving her pet one last squeeze, she released him from her embrace. It was time for her to continue to prepare and time waited for no one. Least of all Hermione Granger.
I'd like to thank everyone who has read this story and took the time to favorite, review, or follow. It makes this author positively giddy with joy! Also, if you should notice some spelling or grammatical errors, feel free to point them out to me. I try to comb through the chapters for errors but things slip through. Voldermort, indeed! I hope you enjoy! Updated Sep. 30, 2013