Disclaimer: No matter how much I wish I were, I'm not J.K Rowling.
Hermione walked down Rose Drive, knowing that that was the street that her parents had moved onto. Hermione had made sure to know exactly where her parents had moved to, so that she could find them later on. She walked along the road looking for house number 17. Every time she walked passed a house, Hermione's nerves and excitement rose. She was so nervous that her charm wouldn't be able to be broken, but so excited to finally see her parents again after so long of running around the country, worrying about them and wishing that they were safe.
13…14…15… Hermione counted in her head. She looked ahead, and saw house number 17. It was rather small, with a white fence around it. There was a large back yard with a huge garden, like one that Hermione's mother had planted at her old house, that had been blown to pieces by Death Eaters looking for her parents. As Hermione walked closer, her worries made her more nervous. With each step came doubts that Hermione wouldn't be able to reverse the powerful charm on her parents.
Hermione had sought out Professor Flitwick to help her practice the counter-charm, and he had helped. For more practice, Hermione had went to the Ministry and met with someone specialized in memory charms, and they also gave her a few spells, that she had practiced. Hermione knew that she was as ready as she possibly could be, but that still didn't help with her nerves.
Hermione finally walked up in front of house 17 Rose Drive, and took a deep breath in. Now or never… Hermione thought as she walked up to the front door of the house. Hermione took in another deep breath as she knocked lightly on the door. Hermione heard footsteps from inside the house, getting louder as they came towards the door. The door knob turned, and when the front door opened, Hermione's mother was standing in the doorway. Hermione gasped when she saw her mom, resisting the gigantic urge to run into her arms. Hermione's mother looked at her curiously. They had the same hair and eyes, and she was wondering how the strange teenager could look so much like herself.
"Hello, what can I do for you?" Hermione's mother said.
"I'm looking for Wendell and Monica Wilkins," Hermione said in a small voice.
"Well, I'm Monica. Come on in, and I'll get my husband," she said with a gigantic smile.
Hermione tentatively walked into the house. Hermione closed the door behind her, and looked around. The home was cozy and muggle-ish with nothing cleaning itself, which was different because Hermione had spent the last three month in the Weasley's house. Hermione heard the sound of her parents walking back towards the room Hermione was standing in now. Hermione held her breath. It had been so long since she had seen a picture of her parents, yet alone see them in person. Her parents walked in through a door, fallowed by a small girl, about the age of 2 years old. Hermione sated at the toddler, wondering what she was doing in her parents house.
"Hello," Mr. Wilkins had said, with a slight worried smile on his face.
"H-hi," Hermione stuttered out.
"What can we do for you?" Mr. Wilkins asked, still staring at the girl, wondering how she had the exact same eyes as his wife.
"Well, it's a rather long and complicated story," Hermione said with a chuckle, "but, my name is Hermione Granger, and I'm, well, I'm… your daughter."
Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins started at Hermione as if she had just spouted five heads and the heads were breathing fire, which is understandable because they were just told that they had another daughter.
"No! I'm the daughter!," the small girl who had appeared at the door objected.
"Shush, Hermia," Mrs. Wilkins said, still staring at Hermione.
Hermione stared Hermia, and then it hit Hermione. She had a sister. The thought that her parents could have had a child never crossed Hermione's mind.
"That's impossible. I think I'd remember my own daughter," Mr. Wilkins said, matter-of-factly.
"And I think I'd remember giving birth twice, not just once," Mrs. Wilkins added.
"Actually, you wouldn't remember, and that's where the long and complicated story comes in. Which I suggest you listen to sitting down, because it is a long story."
Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins looked at each other, not sure to believe Hermione. Mr. Wilkins was a very skeptical man, and didn't even believe Hermia when she said that she didn't take his tie, yet alone a girl who was saying that she was his daughter.
"Why should we even listen to you?" Mr. Wilkins asked accusingly. He doubted that she was telling the truth, and that she was probably some con artist trying to steal their money.
"Can't you give me the benefit of the doubt? I can tell you so much about you! Like, you," Hermione exclaimed, pointing to her father, "love BBQ, but you always cook the food to much so you never eat it. After cooking it, you'd go out to a BBQ restaurant and order food there, and bring it home and act like you cooked it. And you," Hermione, tears forming in her eyes, pointed to her mother, "love scrap booking, but you never take enough pictures to fill up a whole book. Every so often you'd buy a new one, with the old one still half filled, and put new pictures in the new one. You have about a billion scrap books with the pages half filled. And I bet that if you look at a bunch of them now, the photos will be empty, because I removed myself from the photos, and your memory. Please let me explain how I did it, and why."
Hermione was about to burst into tears. She wanted her parents to believe her so badly, and she had no idea what she would do if they didn't. Hermione looked up into her parents eyes, and saw that they were widened with shock.
"How did you know that the photos where blank?" Mrs. Wilkins asked in a shaky voice.
"Because I did it. I erased my pictures." Hermione said, sounding a lot strong than how she felt.
"How?" Mrs. Wilkins asked.
"It's a long story, like I said before," Hermione answered, "but to but it bluntly, I'm a witch. I used a memory spell on you, so that you wouldn't remember me if bad people came looking for me."
Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins' eyes widened even more. They didn't expect her to say that, even though they had no idea what they'd expect Hermione to say.
"I highly doubt that," Mr. Wilkins said, "there is no such thing."
"I can prove it," Hermione said, pulling out her wand from her back jeans pocket. Hermione pointed it toward a purple vase that had been in her old house.
"Wingardium Leviosa," Hermione muttered, and the vase flew into the air. Then, she pointed her wand against the wall, and the vase went speeding toward it, and shattered. Hermione pointed her wand toward the shattered pieces, and muttered, "Reparo." The pieces rose into the air and they joined together. The newly repaired vase then went back to it's place on the table.
"Do it again! Do it again!" cried Hermia.
Hermione smiled and pointed her wand upward, and shot up puffs of mist that changed color with each puff of mist.
Hermia walked toward Hermione and tried to reach up and grab the mist, but couldn't reach Hermione's hands, so Hermione bent down and held her wand out, and Hermia grabbed at the mist, but her little fist didn't catch anything.
"Wendell, I wanna listen to her," Mrs. Wilkins whispered to her husband as she watched in wonder as the mist kept floating out of Hermione's wand.
"You can't honestly believe her?" Mr. Wilkins whispered back disbelievingly, watching Hermione and Hermia.
"How could she fake that? She made that ugly vase fly! And break! Then she repaired it! And it flew back to the table!" Mrs. Wilkins exclaimed, still talking in a hushed voice.
"I don't know, but could she really be our daughter?" Mr. Wilkins asked, still not sure if he should believe Hermione, but also not doubting that there was some truth to her story.
"Look, daddy!" Hermia exclaimed as she pointed toward the mist, "it's red! My color!"
"It's lovely," Mr. Wilkins said with a smile toward Hermia.
"I think we want to hear this story," Mrs. Wilkins said to Hermione as she went over to the couch and sat down, fallowed by Mr. Wilkins. Hermione walked over and sat on the couch across from their's, and Hermia sat next to her.
"Okay, I guess I should start with the letter. Seven years ago, when I was eleven years old, a letter arrived, by owl, addressed to me. It was from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and they had accepted me and asked me to come and study how to control my powers…"
Hermione went on, telling the story of all her years at Hogwarts, and what was going on outside of Hogwarts. She told them about Voldemort, and how he wanted to wipe out muggles and muggle borns. Hermione told them everything, but she left out most details from Malfoy Manor, and the Horcrux hunt. Hermione hated thinking about it herself, yet alone talking about it. She told them everything, right up to where they were now.
"So, that brings us to where we are today," Hermione said with a small chuckle.
"Wow," Mrs. Wilkins whispered. She had been hanging off of every word Hermione had said. She felt that the names 'Harry' and 'Ron' were vaguely familiar.
"So now, I have to ask you something. Do you want me to use a spell, that might work, to get your memory back?" Hermione asked hesitantly. She wasn't sure if they would want her to use a spell on her, but a girl could only hope.
"Can we get back to you on that?" Mr. Wilkins asked. He wasn't sure if he wanted someone, daughter or not, going through is brain and picking out memories.
"Sure, but would you like the spell explained first?" Hermione said, hoping to help persuade them.
"I would like that very much," Mrs. Wilkins said, shooting a comforting smile toward Hermione.
"Well, the spell I used on you two was Obliviate, which only took away memories that I wanted to take away, which were all the memories that included me in them. The spell I'm going to use is Momento. It causes you to remember everything that I made you forget. It won't cause you to forget anything that happened for the two years that you were living here, and you might remember things you've forgotten over time. I think that I've practiced it enough so that it will work," Hermione said, more confidently than she felt.
"It sounds simple enough. Will we remember everything at once?" asked Mrs. Wilkins, wanting to know if Hermione was her daughter sooner than later.
"Some memories will come back quicker than others. They should all be back within the week that I reversed the charm. It may take longer because of how many memories I had made you forget," Hermione answered.
"How many did you make us forget?"
"Seventeen years worth of memories about me," Hermione said with a sad smile.
"Wow," Mr. Wilkins whispered.
"So, you're going to think about it?" Hermione asked with a hopeful smile.
"Of coarse! Where are you staying while your here?" asked Mrs. Wilkins, feeling her motherly instincts kick in.
"A hotel in town. Renald's Inn, I think it's called."
"That old place? It's so dusty and cramped! You shouldn't stay there! You can stay here, in the guest bedroom," Mrs. Wilkins said with a dazzling smile. She loved being a mother, and always mothered other people, weather them being her kids or not.
"You don't have to do that," Hermione replied, already grateful that they listened to her.
"Nonsense! Now, you go and get your bags and check out. Come strait back here, and we'll get you settled it."
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, looking at Mr. Wilkins, who had been very quiet.
"Yeah," Mr. Wilkins answered with a grin.
"Thank you," Hermione said, and she really meant it. She was so grateful for her parents, who were taking her in even when they weren't sure if she actually was their daughter.
"Yay! 'Ermione gets to stay!" exclaimed Hermia as she clapped her hands.
Hermione giggled, happy to be with her new sister and her parents.
A/N: Hope ya'll liked it.
I just want to explain where I got Momento from. It means Remember in latin. Easy enough.
Anyway, please review and all that jazz 3