A Father's Secret
Three Witches
Hermione watched Crookshanks continue rubbing up against her father's legs, his purr resulting in an echoing rumble in the small bathroom as what just occurred continued to sink in. Her mind attempted to wrap around the shock from the unexpected reaction from her father moments before.
"Not that I'm surprised he had a negative reaction towards magic, given what happened the summer before my second year when we went to get school supplies," Hermione thought, still waiting for her father to respond to what she'd asked. "I wasn't expecting my father actually to use magic like that."
She sat there, unsure what to say to the man sitting on the bathroom floor, head still buried in his face in his knees as his arms wrapped around his legs. Hermione stared, unsure of what to say after asking her father whether seeing someone with a wand was a fright for him nor did he seem inclined to respond to her inquiry, reminding her how tricky spells that modified the memory could be, thus potentially worsening her father's inclination towards anxiety attacks.
"I don't know what to think. Not at all." Her hands rested on her knees.
"Maybe he's a late bloomer?" Ginny offered up from the doorway of the bathroom.
Hermione looked up, still deep in thought. " That doesn 't sound right. " She shook her head, turning her attention back to her father, unsure what to say. "Dad?"
No response came, except for Crookshanks continuing to rub against the man's legs.
"So, you can use magic?" she finally asked.
Her father looked up then at her, still not saying anything.
Hermione glanced away, even though she knew her father's habit of not making eye contact. She cleared her throat. "I guess I owe you an explanation? Of why I brought other wizards and witches into the house?"
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man straighten up, and her head turned to see him opening his mouth as if to say something, his fingers pressing against his arms so tightly the nails were starting to turn white.
"I'll start by apologizing," Hermione said. She saw her father's head tilt, his confusion evident. "I modified your memories. Your's and mom's, actually."
"That's illegal," he muttered, arms wrapped around his legs still but his fingers loosening. His head tilted the other way."
"I know," Hermione swallowed. "I can…"
"I'm not," her father started to say, the words coming slowly, each one painstakingly getting out, which she knew was normal behavior from him when he had an anxiety attack. "I am not," he said, "one to talk."
"You're not?" Hermione asked, finding herself caught off guard. She swallowed, thinking carefully. "Dad? You know about Voldemort, right?" She watched him flinch, a tense which resulted in her babbling, "Don't worry. He's gone."
"Good," her father said, not batting an eye. His entire body relaxed, his legs lowering, thus allowing Crookshanks into his lap, which made the small bathroom feel even smaller. He started to ruffle the fluffy creature's cheeks while looking Crookshank in the eye, as he always found doing so with animals far more comfortable than humans.
"Well, he's the reason I erased your memories. Yours and mom," Hermione said, which made him look up, his massaging of Crookshanks' cheeks stopping. "Particularly since I was involved in stopping him."
And then, her father stiffened, his eyes focusing on the ginger half-Kneazle. "What do you mean, you were involved?
"Does it matter?" Hermione asked.
"Of course it matters," her father muttered, shaking his head and scratching one of Crookshanks's cheeks. "Of course, it matters, Hermione." He paused, wrapping his arms around Crookshanks while grabbing his left forearm and saying, "Not one to talk, though, am I?"
"What," Hermione let out a sigh. "Look. I'm going to go and talk with the acting minister."
"Acting minister?" her father asked, finding himself confused.
"It's complicated," Hermione said. And then she said, "Just like your stories are complicated?" Her father tilted his head; eyes still focused on Crookshanks. "I'm right in guessing it's complicated?"
"Yes," he muttered.
She smiled, then said, "Dad, you know I love you, right?"
"Not that I deserve it," he said, still focused on the creature in his lap.
Hermione frowned, clicking her tongue. "Oh, don't you start that! You're a great dad, despite your peculiarities. And you're the only dad I've got."
"Unfortunately," he said.
"Dad!" Hermione sighed. "You need to stop being hard on yourself." She tilted his head. "I'm going to go and talk to Acting Minister Shacklebolt. Is that okay?"
He nodded, still focused on the half-Kneazle sitting in his lap. Hermione sighed before standing up, casting a quick glance back at her father, who was quite content in lavishing affection on Crookshanks despite his secret being out. The half-Kneazle's rumbling purr continued to echo around the small bathroom. She shook her head, unsure of what to think or do.
Ginny was just outside the bathroom, watching. She spoke low while looking at Hermione's father. "Hey. Are you sure?"
"Sure?" Hermione asked.
"About not getting more information from your dad?"
Hermione's brown eyes blinked, her head turning to look at her father. She let out a sigh, watching him focus in on Crookshanks rather than the reality around him. "My dad's in one of his moods. Anything I got out of him would be a vague, jumbled mess. I'll get more from him once he's fully calmed down." She then turned, seeing Kingsley still there, watching as her mother peeked around the corner of the door, obviously worried about her father. She cleared her throat. "So, dad's a Wizard."
"I know," her mother said before disappearing into the front room.
Hermione's eyes blinked, her head tilting as her mouth twisted into a frown. "She knows?"
"Perhaps we should speak in the other room?" Kingsly said. "I don't think your father's going anywhere."
Hermione turned to look back into the bathroom, where her father was preoccupied with Crookshanks. "I hope not."
She headed then into the front room with Ginny following close behind. Her mother was standing on the other side of the room, with her arms crossed, looking out the window. Hermione took a deep breath. "What do you mean, you know?" Her mother let out a sigh, avoiding eye contact. "Do you mean you just figured out he's a wizard?"
"No," her mother said, letting out a laugh. "I've always known."
"And you didn't think to tell me?" Hermione asked, swallowing at the thought of her parents lying to her for her entire life. She watched her mother turn to look at her, wide-eyed, as her mother's hand drifted down to the forearm, the left one. Hermione breathed in deeply, her voice becoming sharp. "He's a Death Eater."
Her mother cringed her smile, now a deep frown. "Was, Hermione. He was a Death Eater."
"Was?" Hermione shook her head as Ginny looked back and forth between Kingsley and her mother. "Nobody ever quit and lived!"
"And why do you think we said nothing!" her mother snapped back.
Kingsly waved his hand, reminding her another person was there, a stranger listening to the conversation. "You're not to say anything about this, do you understand? Not until I can get to the bottom of this."
"And what is there to get to the bottom of?" Hermione's mother said, her attention now focused on the acting minister.
"I'm in a position to help," Kingsley said. "And given your daughter's position as a war hero…."
"War hero?" her mother said, the tone of voice being rather cold. "How does a war last nearly thirty years, forcing the next generation to become war heroes?"
Hermione stared, confused, as Ginny said, "Thirty years?"
Kingsley took a deep breath, holding up his hands to try and calm Hermione's mom down. "Ma'am, this is the second Wizarding War, not the first." Hermione's mother was startled, her mouth opening, yet she said nothing. "I believe there are things you and your husband need to discuss with your daughter, but Hermione knows how to contact me if you need me."
Hermione watched as he nodded to the healer he'd brought with him, whose mouth pressed into a frown before stepping over to whisper something into his ear. Kingsley frowned. "I don't think you'd be able to see how Mr. Granger is fairing just yet, but I'm sure his family will let me know if anything arises with him or Mrs. Granger."
"I," Hermione took a deep breath. "Yes."
Kingsley nodded his head at her mother. "It is nice meeting you, Mrs. Granger, and I mean what I said about helping your family when you're ready or need it." And then, "Ms. Weasley?"
"I'll stay. Hermione needs a friend," Ginny said. "If you and your mom don't mind?"
"It's fine," Hermione said, without waiting for her mother to say it was fine while giving her mother a look as if to challenge her to say no.
Her mother glared back, and once Kingsley and the healer left, her mother said, "I'm going to go check on your father now. See if I can get him to lie down."
And then she was gone. Hermione let out a sigh, looking at the ground. "How can she be fine with all of this?"
"I don't think she is," Ginny said. "I mean, this is a very major secret your family's been keeping. But did you notice that she thought the war lasted thirty years?"
"Yeah," Hermione said. "That means my dad's been out of touch with what's been going on for years."
"So, I think you should listen to what they have to say," Ginny said.
"Yes. I think so too."