Harry Potter and The Gilded Portrait
Standard Disclaimers Apply
Chapter Five - Down Under
After a rather restless night filled with odd dreams and images Hermione had no compunction to analyze or think about, she made her way through the lavatory, dressed and headed to the Great Hall hoping to pick up a spot of breakfast before she went to see the Headmistress.
The castle was already a flurry of activity. As she made her way from the Gryffindor tower, she found herself accosted by almost everyone she encountered. They wanted to congratulate her or have a photograph taken with them or just simply be able to say they had met one of the Golden Trio, as the Prophet had penned them.
By the time she made the Great Hall, her mood had decidedly taken a turn for the worse.
The two burly Aurors she had met the night before waved at her wildly. She managed a rather weak smile and wave as she made her way to the Gryffindor table and sat with a huff in the most deserted spot she could find.
She had just enough time for a small stack of blueberry flapjacks and a few gulps of pumpkin juice before the house tables were expediently swept from the room.
As she looked around searching the crowd for someone she recognized, she spotted Professor Grubbly-Plank coming in from a hallway. Hermione made her way over.
"Excuse me, Professor."
The old part time Care of Magical Creatures instructor smiled at Hermione warmly.
"Yes, my dear," she asked, "What may I do for you this bright and wonderful morning?"
"I was wondering if you've seen Headmistress McGonagall."
"Why yes dear. I believe I spotted her coming from the Slytherin dungeon just a moment ago."
"Do you know where she might have been heading?"
"I'm quite certain she mentioned something about returning to her office…"
Hermione smiled.
"Thank you professor," she said as she dashed up the stairs to find her way to the Headmistresses hallway on the seventh floor.
She was able to bypass many of the volunteers by taking a few of the shortcuts she knew about. Being friends with Harry, who had made it a habit of exploring the castle at night and what she had learned from Fred and George gave her access to secret passages most didn't know about.
As she made her way along, she wondered about Ron and where he was. She wondered where he would be staying. Perhaps he would go to #12.
That would be good. Harry would like that…
Part of her wanted to find him and explain her hasty departure of the night before but she was painfully aware, much to her consternation, that she had much more pressing matters to attend to.
Her mind drifted to Harry for a moment. She wanted to check on him as well but it seemed time would not allow it. She had to be confident Kreacher would keep his word or the Weasley's would decide to stay with him.
You need to focus on the task at hand…Get your parents back!
Hermione knew she had a long day ahead of her.
As she turned the corner from the stairs, she spotted the now-mended gargoyle sitting quite stoically on its haunches.
She approached it realizing she once again had no idea what the password was.
Bugger!
She stood for a moment trying to think of a way she could get a word to the Headmistress.
She looked beseechingly at the stone figure.
"Um…hi, do you remember me?"
The gargoyle eyed her wearily,
"Of course I remember you! You fink I'm an empty-headed suit of armor?"
"Erm…right," Hermione grimaced, "Then you'll also remember it was me who mended you last night…"
"Remember that too," the gargoyle growled then his intimidating features split in a wide mischievous grin, "Don't `ave the password, do ya?"
"No," Hermione pleaded, "but I really need to speak with the Headmistress on a matter of the utmost importance…please!"
The gargoyle seemed to snap to attention.
"No password…no entrance!"
Hermione's ire was returning with renewed vigor.
"But…"
The gargoyle didn't budge an inch.
"You of all people should know the rules!"
"Oh parrot poo!" Hermione stomped her foot in frustration.
Just then she heard someone clear their throat behind her. She flinched.
"I would consider it a personal favor if you would not take your frustrations out on the security staff, Ms. Granger," McGonagall said with lips pursed, "He is merely performing his duty."
The Headmistress stepped around Hermione and faced the gargoyle.
"Knowledge First," she said clearly. The gargoyle leapt aside and the wall split to reveal the rotating stairs. McGonagall turned back to look at Hermione over her tiny spectacles.
"And do tell me…what does parrot poo have to do with anything?"
Hermione blushed to her roots. McGonagall held her arm out to direct Hermione forward. As she made her way to the stairs, the gargoyle chuckled at her quietly.
Hermione glanced at it, giving the statue her most haughty glare.
"Should have left you in pieces," she mumbled.
The gargoyle waggled its tongue at her and sneered.
Hermione's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline as her hand twitched toward her wand.
Just one well placed reducto…
McGonagall rolled her eyes and followed Hermione up to the office.
As they entered, McGonagall made her way around to sit behind her desk. She motioned to Hermione to sit in one of the chairs in front.
Hermione noticed that most all the portraits of the past Headmasters were snoozing…or pretending to be. Dumbledore's was empty.
"Now," McGonagall inquired, folding her hands on the desk, "what can I do for you Miss Granger?"
"I realize you're terribly busy with the repair to the school and everything but I was wondering if you could find a moment to help me retrieve my parents…" Hermione asked beseechingly.
The Headmistresses eyes grew wide with sudden understanding.
"Oh, for Marlin's sake Ms. Granger," McGonagall apologized, "that arrangement has completely slipped my mind. Do forgive me!"
Before Hermione could respond, McGonagall was on her feet. She walked over to one of the portraits.
"Everard!" She snapped her fingers and the grizzled old man's head popped up and his eyes sprang open.
"Yes…yes," he stammered, "Everard at your service m' lady!"
"I need you to visit your frame at the Ministry. Please ask acting Minister Shacklebolt I need to see him at once. It is a matter of the utmost importance."
Everard nodded fervently and exited his painting to the left.
McGonagall cast an apologetic glance at Hermione as she made her way back to her desk and sat down.
"I'm afraid I've been so busy with reparations to the school I have had little time to consider anything else."
"I completely understand Headmistress," Hermione assured her, "I wouldn't bother you with this at the moment if I wasn't so desperate to have them back home safely."
McGonagall gave Hermione a grimace.
"While I appreciate you're conciliation, Ms. Granger forgetfulness is no excuse for the dereliction of one's duty."
The Headmistress folded her hands beneath her pointed chin and peered at Hermione for a moment.
"While we are waiting for Mr. Shacklebolt, I wonder if I might enquire as to what your plans are for the near future. I realize the past few months have been a whirlwind of events for you however…"
McGonagall paused for a breath. Her naturally stern visage softened somewhat as she appraised her most promising pupil.
"I must admit I have taken a rather…personal interest in your endeavors since you've come to Hogwarts."
"I have seen many students come and go through these halls in the past fifty years and I can tell you without reservation, young lady that you are one of the most brilliant young minds I have ever had the privilege to teach."
Hermione looked as if she was about to cry. McGonagall continued before she could say anything in response.
"Having said that, I would very much like you to consider returning in the fall to complete your studies. I realize you may feel Hogwarts has nothing further to teach you in the realm of magic and, truth be told there is little in the way of magical theory and application you do not already know."
McGonagall smiled. Hermione wanted to melt right through the bottom of the chair she was sitting on.
"The fact is, Ms. Granger there is much more to life than books, spells and Gamp's Laws of Elemental Transfiguration. I cannot impress upon you enough the importance in completing your N.E.W.T. level finals. I only wish for you to have the best possible start toward what I am sure will be a bright future."
The truth was Hermione had not had much of a chance to think about her future. It seemed the task of keeping her boys alive as well as herself had been all-consuming.
Now that she found herself sitting in front of the one person she strove to impress more than any other, the thought of returning to Hogwarts felt…redundant.
She certainly didn't want to convey that message to her mentor so she decided to come down firmly on the side of waffling but she was spared the indignation when Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped though the fireplace of the Headmistresses office.
He shook soot and ash from his cloak.
"I'm sorry for the delay Minerva. I came as quickly as I could."
"Nonsense Kingsley," McGonagall said as she rose from her chair, "I realize you're busy but I'm afraid this matter is most important and cannot wait."
The Headmistress quickly explained to him about Hermione's parents. Since Kingsley was not Minister when they sent her parents into hiding, he knew little of the details on how it was accomplished. He had been assigned to guard the Muggle Prime Minister during that time. She then recommended Kingsley be allowed within the restrictions of the Fidelius charm because he would be integral to the success of their mission. Hermione agreed without question.
It had taken some very extensive spell work to completely remove any recollection of their previous lives and only four people knew their whereabouts, Hermione, McGonagall and two Aurors who had been assigned to them for security. They were protected by a very powerful Fidelius charm.
It was an ingenious bit of spellwork to create the modified Fidelius. If any attempt was made by anyone under the Fidelius umbrella to reveal the whereabouts of the Grangers, not only would that person suffer complete loss of motor functions but their wand would automatically send a patronus to all the other members of the Fidelius immediately. The spell was Hermione's own invention and everyone involved was quite impressed.
As it was, it took a whole host of Oblivatiors and Order of the Phoenix members to suspend her parent's dental practice for the duration. Hermione knew a detailed list of her mother and father's clients and patients was created and placed in secret in the Minister's office under lock and key. Since it was written in the runic language, Hermione and McGonagall were the only two who could decipher it. They would be required to retrieve the list and try to restore the memories of all those people once the Grangers were back in place.
It was going to be a daunting task but Hermione was eager to proceed. She was relieved to see that McGonagall seemed to understand.
"…so once we have returned with the Grangers from where they are hidden it will be imperative we act as quickly as possible."
McGonagall made her way over to a tall, glass fronted cabinet, opened one of the curved doors and reached deep in the back to retrieve two tall, thin glass vials. They were both filled with a bright blue swirling gaseous mist.
Hermione stared at them for a moment.
My parent's whole lives are in there.
It was as if McGonagall could read her thoughts. She pulled her wand out and with a flourish; the two delicate looking vials were encased in a thickly padded metal box. She gave Hermione a knowing smile.
"We certainly don't want any accidents with your parent's memories."
She handed the case to Kingsley.
"I think it would be prudent to have two of the best Oblivators ready and I don't think it would hurt to have a few Aurors in attendance for security as well. I'll call when I require them."
Kingsley nodded.
"Very well then, I'll have everything ready upon your return," he looked at the case and then at Hermione. He could see the look of concern in her eye, "Not to worry Miss Granger, we'll take every precaution to make sure your parents are retuned to their lives with as little interruption as possible but you must understand this is going to be an extremely difficult task."
"Returning someone's memories seamlessly is a very tricky business even after a few days. We're attempting to restore your mother and father's memories after almost a year."
Hermione could tell that even McGonagall looked worried.
They had told her when she decided to do this back then this was not something they would have recommended. Too many variables and too many things could go wrong over such a long period of time but since Hermione had no idea how long it would take them to find the Horcruxes or how long it would take them to dispatch Voldemort, if they even could, she had decided it was worth the risk.
Her reasoning was that if the war turned out badly, at least her parents would be very far removed from it all, relatively safe and blissfully unaware.
McGonagall reminded Kingsley before he left to send word to the Auror guarding the Grangers they were coming.
Kingsley returned to the Ministry to put the operation in motion. They would be waiting for Hermione and McGonagall at St. Mungo's.
So with their plans in place and Hermione's parents memories safely in the hands of one of the best Aurors in the Ministry, she and McGonagall set off for Perth, Australia.
They were instructed to meet the assigned Auror at the Australian Ministry of Magic office. They were told they would find the entrance at the corners of Howard St. and The Esplanade.
They discovered the entrance was what appeared to be a boarded up restaurant that was once named The Laughing Kookaburra.
McGonagall picked up the receiver of an old pay phone outside the front entrance. At once a voice crackled over the handset.
"State ya' business please?"
"Minerva McGonagall and Hermione Granger to see the Ministry Auror from the London office…I believe our Minister contacted you of our arrival?"
"Yes, miss," the voice answered, "If you'll kindly step through the front entrance door to your right…"
"Thank you," McGonagall returned the handset and they stepped right through the boarded up door.
When they entered, they found themselves standing in a reception area not much larger than a closet. The receptionist sat behind a small desk toward the back of the cramped space.
He was about four feet tall with dark skin. He was naked except for a loin cloth. He was covered head to foot in white painted stripes. He had a wild mane of black hair that was tied up in tufts about his head and, to Hermione's shock, what appeared to be a bone sticking through his nose.
He stood and greeted them with a pleasant smile.
"G'day ladies," he squeaked, "Your ministry bloke'l be along shortly. Can I get either of you something to eat or drink while you wait? Just made a batch of grilled goanna and fresh baked damper*."
Hermione looked at McGonagall with wide eyes.
"Erm, no thank you," Hermione said hastily, "I'm fine."
The little man shrugged. Just then a section of wall behind the reception desk opened and a rather young-looking Auror stepped through.
"Miss McGonagall, Miss Granger," the Auror tipped his head as he came up, "The Minister let me know you were on your way."
Hermione moved forward urgently wringing her hands.
"Where are my parents," she asked, "Are they safe?"
The young Auror looked at Hermione anxiously.
"Of course, Miss Granger, your parents are quite safe but…" the young man paused for a moment, "their not in Perth any longer."
Hermione blanched.
McGonagall spoke up.
"What do you mean not in Perth?"
The young Auror held his hands out as if to try and calm them down.
"Now…now, don't panic. Let me explain."
Hermione's patience, already stretched thin as a thread, felt dread welling up in the pit of her stomach. She stepped right in front of the young man, who took a tentative step backwards until he was pressed against the false wall into the Ministry. He eyed Hermione wearily.
"Tell me where my parents are," Hermione whispered dangerously through clenched teeth.
"About three months ago, your parents were talking to some of the locals. They were told about a free health clinic needing volunteers down in a place called Mandurah. It's a town south of here at Madora Bay. They decided to move down there to work in the clinic. They're staying in a one-bedroom bungalow in Silver Sands."
"They work in the clinic most days and they spend the rest of their time in their bungalow or walking on the beach. Believe me, Miss Granger, they are quite fine. You must understand we were left with strict instructions not to interfere with your folk's lives in any way."
"Take us there at once!" McGonagall said, "When we arrive I would appreciate it if you would contact our Ministry. Tell them I will require additional Aurors as well as two of their most capable Oblivators. Is that clear?"
The young Auror nodded wide-eyed.
"Very well," McGonagall added, "please proceed."
Hermione and McGonagall placed their hands on the Aurors arm and after the uncomfortable compression of apparition they found themselves standing in an alley behind a row of similar looking, single-level bungalows.
The lawns were little sections of neat Palmetto Buffalo grass with tufts of Chilean needle here and there.
Hermione turned to the Auror.
"Which one is my parent's?"
The Auror pointed to the bungalow on the right. Hermione made a b-line to the back door. McGonagall caught her just as she was about to knock.
"Please exercise caution and restraint, Ms. Granger," McGonagall whispered, "Keep in mind at present your parents don't know who you are. I would think it ill-advised to go barging in at the moment."
"Oh, there not here," the Auror spoke up, "They would be down at the Clinic just now," he glanced down at a normal-looking watch on his wrist, "in fact they would be just about to go to lunch. They go to a small café a block down from the Clinic."
"Is the Clinic far?" Hermione asked.
"Not at all, it's just a few blocks over on Mandurah Terrace," the Auror pointed behind them, "but I don't think it would be wise to walk about dressed like this."
"Right," McGonagall nodded, "Very well, you will lead us to the clinic and after we arrive please contact the Ministry."
With a swish and flick of her wand, McGonagall changed her appearance. She was now dressed in a stylish sun dress and matching wide-brimmed hat. Hermione thought she looked nice dressed in Muggle attire.
Hermione was already dressed in her usual form-fitting tee shirt and blue jeans. The only evidence she was not a normal teenaged girl was the front of her light pink shirt said Restricted Section written in silver glitter script across her chest.
When they reached the clinic, the Auror went off to contact the Ministry. Hermione and McGonagall waited on a bench set in the shadow of a building across the street.
They watched people come and go from the clinic entrance for about a half hour when a man and woman emerged and turned to their right, walking slowly down the sidewalk.
Hermione recognized them at once but they seemed much different then when she had left them those many months ago.
They were dressed much more casual than usual and were tanned. Her father Edward had on a comfortable white button-up shirt over kaki trousers. He had a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. She had never known her father to wear facial hair before. His hair was quite a bit longer as well. She had never seen it below his collar. She thought he looked ruggedly dashing.
But it was the changes in her mother's appearance that struck Hermione the most. Daphne Granger had always been the picture of prim appearance and posture as long as Hermione could remember. Her mother had always displayed a professional image even when she was at home.
Now, as Hermione watched them walk arm-in-arm down the sidewalk, her mother looked
at ease in a loose fitting white short-sleeved blouse over kaki shorts. Her hair, much like Hermione's, was unfettered and hung long down her back.
Wendell and Monica Wilkins looked ten years younger than their real identities. Hermione could see the look on their faces as they smiled at one another and kissed. They looked happy and content. She could see no traces of Edward and Daphne Granger in either of them.
Hermione continued to watch as they disappeared into the small café. Then, a sudden horrible thought overcame her consciousness.
Could this be my parents if I had never been born? Would this have been the life they chose for themselves without me?
Hermione suddenly felt ill. She could not mistake they way her parents looked. It was as if they were completely at ease in this place she had exiled them to for their own safely.
This was not what Hermione had expected at all. She was sure she would find her parents disoriented and confused, not settled and so…so…happy!
She felt a wave of nausea wash over her. McGonagall looked at her young charge with worried eyes.
For the first time, the full impact of Hermione's decision to protect her parent's hit her with all the intensity of a blunt force trauma to the head. She had been so insistent on moving them to safety she gave little thought to the possible long-term effects it could have on their lives.
This was, as she could see now, the unknown factor that McGonagall and the Oblivator tried telling her about.
A single thought kept repeating itself over and over in her mind…
My parents would have been happier without me!
Nothing at that moment could have stopped the tears that seemed to burst from deep inside her. She covered her face with her hands as she leaned forward to try and control the body-racking sobs that overcame her.
"What is it child?" McGonagall asked deeply concerned. She placed a gentle hand on Hermione's shoulder.
Hermione couldn't have responded if she wanted to. She had always been a creature of self control and poise but at that moment she couldn't seem to get a handle on her rampaging emotions.
It all seemed to be coming up to the surface. The years of worry about the threat of dark wizards and Death Eaters, her constant feelings of inadequacy in personal relationships and her private fear of the chasm that had been growing between her and her parents since she found out she was a Muggle-born witch.
She could see it clearly now. It was displayed before her like a nightmare that had become reality.
"Perhaps it would be best if we were to wait for your parents at their bungalow," she heard McGonagall whisper. Several passersby were beginning to stare at the sobbing form sitting hunched over on the bench.
They weren't helping themselves by making a scene.
Hermione nodded. She used every ounce of fortitude and self control she could muster to reign in her emotions. She wiped the tears from her cheeks as she stood up to follow the Headmistress back to her parent's temporary residence.
Once there, they went again to the rear of the bungalow and making sure there was no-one to see they let themselves into the flat.
Again, Hermione was surprised by what she found. In their normal lives, her parents were organized and her mother was a stickler for cleanliness. Everything had its place in the Granger house.
But here, in the world of Wendell and Monica Wilkins, things were much more casual. The flat was neat but she could tell they were much less concerned about organization.
The tiny bungalow consisted of a sitting room, a small kitchen, a rather large bedroom and a tiny bath.
In the corner of the sitting room near a large front window Hermione saw a painter's easel. On it sat what appeared to be a half-finished water color of a sunset out over the ocean. It was very good. On the floor behind the easel were a few finished paintings of similar scenes.
She never knew either of her parents to have an interest in painting.
They heard the Auror step into the bungalow. He saw Hermione pick up one of the finished works.
"You know she's quite talented with a brush, your mother. She's sold several paintings to a business man from Melbourne and donated the proceeds to the clinic. Your parents are quite well liked here."
He then turned and spoke to McGonagall.
"I contacted the Ministry as you requested Ms. McGonagall. They informed me they would be dispatching the additional Aurors and Oblivators in about ten minutes."
"Thank you," the headmistress replied as she too watched Hermione, "What time do the Grangers usually return from the clinic?"
"They usually get here between three-thirty and four but sometimes they stay a bit later depending on the number of patients they have," he glanced at his watch again, "being a Thursday I would say they should be here at the usual time today. That leaves about an hour to wait."
"Very well," McGonagall said, "I should think it would be wisest to take them here. You do know what to do once the Granger's are returned safely to London?"
"Oh, yes ma'am," the Auror replied, "My partner and I were briefed on the procedures back when we were first assigned to the Grangers."
"Excellent," McGonagall smiled at the young man, "then perhaps you should take up your station outside the clinic…"
The young Auror jumped slightly then smacked the heel of his hand on his forehead. He turned and bolted for the door.
Hermione had moved to the front window. She stood with her arms wrapped around herself, lots in the depths of her thoughts, peering through the sheers at the ocean between two flats across the street.
McGonagall came up silently behind her.
"What is bothering you so, my dear?"
Hermione tried to organize her thoughts. She wanted to reason out everything that was happening to try and make some sense of it all but rationality seemed to elude her for the first time since she could remember.
"Am I doing the right thing Headmistress?" She asked without turning away from the window.
"What do you mean Ms. Granger?"
"Maybe I'm making a mistake by bringing them home," tears were threatening to constrict her throat again but she fought them back.
"Why on earth would you consider such a thing?"
Hermione told her mentor what had occurred to her while sitting out in front of the clinic.
The old witch looked in horror at Hermione.
"Why, that's ridiculous Ms. Granger! Your parents love you! How could you think such a thing?"
Hermione finally turned around and looked into McGonagall's eyes.
"I know they love me but you don't understand Professor. For the past several years I've found myself becoming more deeply entrenched in the world of magic and less connected to the Muggle world. I know my parents have felt this as well. Maybe they knew it was coming even before I did. I think that's why they've been distancing themselves from me to make the eventual detachment easier."
"It seems there's a gulf that's been forming between us, one I find harder and harder to bridge with each passing year. I don't even know if it's conscious on their part but it's happening none the less. Upon each return after the school session I find we've less and less to talk about."
"They tried desperately to involve themselves in our world at first but lately it seems it's become less important. They throw themselves into their work. Even holidays are different now. I find myself wanting to spend as much time as I can with those…of my own kind."
The words my own kind felt foreign to her but she could not deny the truth in them. That concept smacked of the very same mentality used by Voldemort and the Death Eaters to justify their reign of terror over those different from themselves. The truth was, she was different from her mother and father and she resided most of her life in a world wholly apart from them. Although, the estrangement from her parents was unintentional it was real and it was happening whether she wanted it to or not and she felt powerless to change it.
McGonagall looked at Hermione sadly for a moment then turned away to sit on the nearby couch. She suddenly looked very tired.
"While I would like nothing more than to tell you this is something constructed by an over-active imagination, Ms. Granger, I cannot. For, you see, I have first-hand experience with what you are going through."
Hermione wasn't sure how to respond so she said nothing.
"Does this revelation surprise you?"
Hermione was slightly taken aback but she couldn't really be surprised by much of anything. She was feeling rather numb. She sat on the couch next to the Headmistress, folded her hands in her lap and listened.
"Both my parents were Muggles. Neither one showed the slightest magical ability nor did they care much for our society. There was a World War going on during my youth so mine was spent in much the same way yours has been. Staying alive was the main priority then as well although the threat came from the Muggle world."
This did surprise Hermione. She knew about the Second World War. She had learned about it in Muggle grade school. When she thought about it for a moment, she realized the parallels between Voldemort and Adolph Hitler were a bit unsettling. Still she said nothing but let the old witch continue.
"I wanted nothing more than to protect my family from the utter destruction that followed in the wake of the Third Reich but my parents would have none of it. They chose to stay and fight. They did allow me to save some of my younger cousins but in the end, the decision to remain behind cost them their lives."
Hermione was about to ask why the Wizard world did nothing to help during the war but McGonagall answered the question before she could ask it.
"Due to our law of secrecy, magic folk were forbidden to take part in the Muggle conflict. It was unfortunate. We could have saved thousands of lives. Although I missed them terribly, my parents did not die in vein. They managed to save hundreds through a covert underground network that smuggled people across the borders to neutral countries. It was small consolation to a terrified teenaged girl but it was the only thing I had to hold on to."
"So when I tell you I understand what you are feeling Ms. Granger, I truly do, but I must tell you if you choose to leave your parents behind, it will be a decision you will come to regret. However, having said that, the decision is of course yours and yours alone to make."
McGonagall paused to collect herself.
"I will honor your decision whatever it may be."
They heard the unmistakable popping sound of apparition out in the alley. McGonagall rose to see to the newcomers as Hermione weighed the Professor's words.
They're your parents Granger. You put them in this mess so you need to buck up and see this thing through to the end! Maybe once you've got them home you can find a way to reconnect with them somehow. The Headmistress is right. You'll regret it if you don't.
Her mind made up, Hermione went out to meet the others. She told McGonagall she would go through with the retrieval process as planned.
About thirty minutes later the Auror watching over her parents came up and told them the Grangers were coming.
Everyone took their places and after her parents had gone into their bungalow, they all swooped in and took them down. They were put in a state of unconsciousness, then transported by portkey to St. Mungo's
The Oblivators and Aurors stayed behind to tidy up and remove all traces of Wendell and Monica Wilkins from Australia. It was going to be an arduous task but the Oblivators were very good at what they did.
The reversal of the memory modification process went as smoothly as anyone could have hoped for but when all was complete there seemed to be a rather unusual complication.
As Hermione sat in the waiting area of the Spell Damage ward on the fourth floor, Professor McGonagall had come out to give Hermione an update on the progress. Just as she was about to sit down next to Hermione a Healer popped his head around the edge of the door.
"Excuse me Miss McGonagall may I have a word?"
She moved over to the Healer and they talked in hushed tones. When McGonagall suddenly stood ramrod straight, Hermione knew something was wrong.
She jumped to her feet and made her way to the ward entrance just as an Auror caught her by the shoulders.
"What is it Professor," Hermione asked trying to free herself from the Auror's grip, "What's wrong? Is there something wrong with my parents? LET-ME-GO!"
The Auror released Hermione as if he had been shocked by electricity but she had not drawn her wand or cast any kind of spell. The Auror looked at his hands. They were smoking slightly. He looked back at Hermione as if she had just sprouted two additional heads.
"Please remain calm Ms. Granger," McGonagall pleaded but Hermione had had about enough of remaining calm. If someone did not tell her what was going on in the next few seconds she was liable to pull her wand and start hexing everyone. McGonagall was wise enough to recognize this fact. "It seems there has been an unexpected…complication with the reintroduction of your parent's memories."
Hermione couldn't seem to draw air into her lungs.
"What complications?" she asked breathlessly.
"While they seem to be quite normal and alert, it appears there are some…for the lack of a better description…gaps in your mother's and father's memories. We are, at present, at a loss for a reason for this. Their memories have remained in the Headmaster's office since they were removed. The vials were sealed with warded spell-o-tape and the seals were unbroken when we removed them to replace them into your parent's minds."
Hermione stood frozen in place, unable to move or think or react to anything around her. She suddenly realized she had single-handedly destroyed her parent's lives. Voldemort didn't have to because she had done it herself. She looked at McGonagall who was watching Hermione closely.
They warned me this could happen. They tried to tell me. I can't lose control. It won't do anyone any good for me to fly to pieces. I should have left them in Australia. I should have let them have their happiness. I was selfish and this is my punishment! Broken parents!
The thought was almost enough to crush her. The guilt felt like a planet sitting on her shoulders.
"I want to see them." It wasn't a request. She moved toward the door to the ward.
McGonagall held up her hand to stop the Auror as he began to reach for Hermione again. He looked relieved.
Hermione made her way to her parent's room with her entourage in tow. When she got to the door, she took a deep, steadying breath and went inside.
Both her parents were awake and sitting up in their beds. Hermione went to her mother's side first and sat in a chair beside the bed. She had to fight to keep her emotions from showing on her face but she managed a weak smile.
An Oblivator was talking quietly with her father. She looked up at her mom.
Her mother stared back at her for a moment with an odd look on her face.
"You're Hermione, aren't you?" Her mother asked.
"Yes," Hermione answered in a shaky voice, "and you're my mother."
"That's right," her mother said but she didn't look right, "I have a daughter," she looked away as if she was trying to see something far off in the distance, "and I'm a Dentist you know." Her mother looked back at Hermione and smiled. "Do we have a cat?"
Hermione nodded. The fine thread of control she had been holding on to for the past two days seemed to snap. She could feel herself loosing it. If she didn't remove herself from the room in the next minute things were going to get even more difficult. Her parents were going to witness their daughter come completely unhinged and think they were raising a nutter.
Hermione forced herself to smile and take her mother's hand in hers. She kissed it and held it to her cheek for a moment. Her mother smiled warmly at her but her eyes were still strangely blank.
"Will you excuse me for a moment mum?"
Not waiting for her mother's reply, Hermione got up and made her way quickly to the door of the room. She had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from crying out as she barely made the hallway.
Hermione Granger collapsed in a heap on the floor of the hallway and let the anguish and guilt take her. She could do nothing more than curl up in a tight ball and sob uncontrollably.
She could hear people talking and moving above her but she didn't care. She just wanted to be left alone.
The next thing she remembered was being lifted by several pairs of hands. They carried her to a different room and gently laid her on a soft bed. She heard them leave and the room became deathly quiet.
Somewhere between the body-racking sobs and the uncontrollable weeping she managed to slip into blissful unconsciousness.
*Damper is a kind of Australian bread.
-->