The idea that someone might have Memory-Charmed her infuriated Hermione at the same time that it terrified her. If she couldn't trust her own mind… what could she trust?
She and Blaise, after discussion, had Blaise still make his ley line, even without the oath that the others had taken. It wasn't fair to leave him behind, and whatever bond they had started was clearly stronger than the oath, anyway. Blaise, to her pleased surprise, did not throw up on either way of the journey, though he did groan and cry from the agony of tearing through reality.
"Your Faerie coach drastically undersold how bad this would be," he moaned, clutching his ribs while Hermione encased his crystallized tear into a pendant. "We are going to need to psych people up for this a lot. Maybe give them an anti-nausea potion as well."
Hermione and Blaise finally joined the others at The Yard, long after the others had arrived, and though the atmosphere was boisterous and celebratory, Hermione found herself unable to relax and let go, instead sitting at a table in the back corner, nursing a weak cider and looking around through suspicious eyes.
Blaise and her had an incomplete bond of some sort, and a powerful one at that. Blaise had agreed with her, agreeing not to mention it to the others, but while Blaise seemed to accept it and let go of the frightening implications of its discovery, Hermione couldn't stop thinking about it. It was a bond, almost as strong as her coven bond. That sort of thing didn't just happen accidentally. Which meant the most likely scenario was she and Blaise had set out to create it purposefully, and somehow, they'd been interrupted and made to forget.
How could Hermione know if she'd ever been Memory-Charmed? She couldn't even really make a sign for herself, really, because she wouldn't know to look for the sign or make it unless she knew memory charming was imminent. Ginny had experienced great blank times in her memory when Tom had possessed her, but Hermione remembered that with Draco, when he'd consented to being charmed, there were ways to tie memories together, to fill in the gaps so the subject wouldn't ever notice the difference.
Over the next few days, she found herself dwelling on the matter as Millie, Tracey, and finally Theo all managed to make a ley line of their own, cementing an inner Umbra that they were all happy with. Even as they all celebrated and practiced traveling via ley line without puking, Hermione was obsessed – if a master had modified her memory, how would she even know?
She dwelled on the matter enough that her parents noticed her atypical moodiness. After some careful prodding, Hermione finally told them what was going on at the breakfast table one morning. But once she started talking, it was like a hole had been broken in a dam - the words started coming faster in a torrent of emotion and frustration, the entire story spilling out of her in anguish.
"—and I don't know what to do!" she finished. "How can I protect my memories with this kind of magic out there? How can I protect myself? How do I know if I've ever had my memories changed?"
Hermione sat there breathing hard in the aftermath, tears of frustration clustered in the corners of her eyes. Her parents exchanged a heavy look.
"All you, dear," her mother said, standing. She swept up the dirty plates and went into the kitchen, while her father rolled his eyes but grinned slightly, before turning to Hermione, serious.
"Right," he said. "Let's take this one step at a time. You have two issues here: how to know if your memories have been altered, and how to protect yourself from having your memory altered. Is that correct?"
"Yes," Hermione said, a bit miserably. Her father hummed, thinking.
"In all the science fiction I've ever read, there's never been a way to tell if your memories have been changed," he said. "People notice, of course, but generally through gaps in their memory or learning things that don't make sense with what they remember."
"How do they know it was memory modification?" Hermione asked. "How do they know it's not just something they forgot?"
"Well, in science fiction, it's usually pretty obvious," her father said, grinning slightly. "They're not forgetting if they did the dishes or not that morning – they're forgetting they were a secret agent on Mars." He looked at Hermione seriously. "Is what you've forgotten something big? Something that you'd normally remember?"
"It was a magical bond, and a powerful one," Hermione said, "so yes, I think I'd remember. I remember the other bonds I've made with people." She frowned. "Unless you can make bonds with people accidentally? Like if I reached out to Blaise with my magic by accident…"
Hermione knew she'd been glowing upon her return from the Fae realm. Who knew what she might have done to Blaise in his bed by accident? It was possible.
Only… his part of the bond had been the completed one, not hers.
"In fantasy, bonds are very big deal," her father told her seriously. "They're formed by vows or oaths—"
"It's the same in the magical world," Hermione said, nodding. "My coven bond, we had a formal bonding ritual. The two oaths of loyalty I received, I remember, and there were ritual words and vows they gave."
Her father blinked, apparently absorbing that his teenage daughter had received oaths of loyalty, before continuing on.
"So part one of your issue is indeterminate, for now," her father said. "You're not sure if your memories were modified, but you have suspicions." Hermione nodded, and her father continued. "Part two of your issue is making sure memory modification doesn't happen again."
"I don't know if that's possible," Hermione groaned, hiding her face in her hands. "I made a ritual to defend from mind-reading, but if that doesn't also work on memory charms…"
The more she thought about it, the more she thought it wouldn't. Draco's mindscape from the Occlumency ritual was a deep ocean, sealed over with ice. When she'd gone into his mind to alter his memories, there had been bubbles and connection strings – it'd been nothing like what she'd seen before.
"You have magical items, right?" her father asked her. "Your coven ring, that's enchanted with magical properties, isn't it?"
Hermione blinked. "Yes…"
"Then could you just make an Amulet of Protection from Evil?" her father suggested. "It works with pretend wizards. It might work for real ones too."
"A what?" Hermione wanted to know.
Her father got up and went to go get a book, Hermione migrating to the couch while he did. He came back with an extremely battered book, flipping through the pages and setting it in front of Hermione.
Protection from Evil
This spell wards a creature from attacks by evil creatures, from mental control, and from summoned creatures. It creates a magical barrier around the subject at a distance of 1 foot. The barrier moves with the subject and has three major effects:
First, the subject gains a +2 deflection bonus to AC and a +2 resistance bonus on saves. Both these bonuses apply against attacks made or effects created by evil creatures.
Second, the barrier blocks any attempt to possess the warded creature (by a magic jar attack, for example) or to exercise mental control over the creature (including enchantment (charm) effects and enchantment (compulsion) effects that grant the caster ongoing control over the subject, such as dominate person). The protection does not prevent such effects from targeting the protected creature, but it suppresses the effect for the duration of the protection from evil effect. This second effect works regardless of alignment.
Third, the spell prevents bodily contact by summoned creatures. This causes the natural weapon attacks of such creatures to fail and the creatures to recoil if such attacks require touching the warded creature. Good-summoned creatures are immune to this effect.
Hermione looked up at her father, who nodded encouragingly.
"See?" he said. "People have run up against this problem before."
Hermione wrestled with the proper wording she wanted.
"Dad, while this amulet might work," she said, translating 'Enchantment (Charm) effects' extremely generously, "making magical artifacts is difficult. Surely that's the same in your game, right? Casting a spell is easier than crafting an item?"
"Well, sure," her dad said, shrugging. "The spell just needs some powdered silver. To enchant an item, you have to spend a lot more money, but I think it's basically the same."
Hermione shook her head, sighing.
"I don't know how to do that," she said. "I don't think there's even a spell like this in existence."
"If they have a Memory Charm, isn't there a counter memory charm?" her father countered. "Doesn't each spell have a natural counterpart?"
"No idea." Hermione paused, considering. "But I know where I could find out."