Chapter 2: Isolation
Hermione wandered wraithlike along the halls of her house, running her fingers over surfaces with an expression that was almost mournful. She had done this in varying degrees at the end of every holiday since starting at Hogwarts, but there seemed to be a finality to her goodbyes this time around: she lingered just a little too long at each spot, looked a little too long at each picture, hugged her parents just a little too long and too often. Not that Nathan or Helen found anything wrong with this - they simply enjoyed their daughter's affection. After all, she'd been drawing further and further away from them in the past few years. Moments of physical affection were few and far between, and they cherished every instance.
However, Hermione's wandering was not, as it appeared, mere sentiment. Every now and then, an object she had been fingering would disappear into a tiny beaded purse that she had slung over her shoulder. Her parents had figured it was some sort of wizard fashion statement and ignored it. It was not a fashion accessory: Hermione had spent the last few days of her sixth year in Hogwarts perfecting the Undetectable Extension Charm and the Featherlight Charm, and had (illegally) used the charms on the bag just before leaving for the train; she had been of age since just after the beginning of sixth year, being one of the oldest in their year, but Harry would not come of age for a few weeks yet and she had not wanted to risk the success of their mission on someone catching her for an illegal spell, when she could easily conceal it performing it a few days earlier, in the high magic concentration of Hogwarts. Harry had finally told her and Ron about his hunt for Horcruxes after Dumbledore's death, and - well, she had no idea what Harry or Ron were doing, but she was trying to prepare for their Grail Quest. Obviously, one could not just walk into Mordor, and as the person of intelligence in their mission, it fell to her to make sure they all got out alive.
Into the bag went first-aid kit she'd been given on her twelfth birthday. In went her father's much-neglected Combat and Survival coffee-table set. In went the non-stick pans that her mother had bought for Hermione last year, intending to teach her to cook, though Hermione never had progressed past the simple frying stage. In went some old sweaters, a thick woollen comforter, three old brollies, a tin of biscuits that actually contained a sewing kit, and a battered copy of Gaiman and Prachett's Good Omens. After a moment of indecision, she added in her father's precious The Lord of the Rings boxed set; he never let it out of his sight on normal days, but he'd not have a chance to miss it any more, and she wanted her memories of poring over the pages with her old man. She'd apologize to him someday, she thought.
Finally Hermione had gathered everything she needed from the Granger home. Without magic, with the Trace on her, she could not erase herself from her parents' life easily - but Hermione was a legal-age witch, even if she had not yet graduated from Hogwarts, and she was a dab hand at spells and research.
She cast a disillusionment spell on herself, and walked a circle around her parents' house, chanting as she went: "Hermione abscondam. Hermione abscondam. Hermione abscondam."
.
She watched as the initials she had carved on the old oak tree in their yard disappeared. In the house, she knew, her face would be disappoearing from pictures, her name and initials melting away from every surface, as anything related to her was wiped away. She didn't know how long the spell would last: area-effect spells were hard to hold, and this was an experimental modification on an old spell. She didn't need it to last very long, though... just for a few hours, or days at the most, while the plan she was currently putting into place went into motion. Just until her parents escaped without her.
And here came the hardest part.
Hermione's parents were sitting in the living room, watching a 12th-century monk solve mysteries (the show's name escaped her at the moment; it was Cadwallader, Cadmus, Cad-something). Hermione didn't remember her parents ever liking medieval TV shows when she was a tiny tot, but she'd noticed that they'd begun watching shows about dragons and wizards and knights around the time she got her Hogwarts letter, and they'd branched out from there. Perhaps it was a way for them to understand the alien world their daughter lived in. A pang of melancholia pierced through Hermione's heart.
"Mum? Dad?"
Her parents looked up and smiled at her. Her mother moved a little bit, freeing up a space between her and her husband for Hermione to sit in. Mr Granger patted the space for emphasis.
Hermione walked closer, but she didn't sit down. Instead, she threw her arms around her parents, and said, "I love you."
"Oh, we love you too, sweetie," her mum said immediately.
"Of course we love you, munchkin," her dad added. "You're planning to borrow money from us, aren't you?"
Hermione laughed a watery laugh. "No, dad. But I am planning something."
"Is it something you can tell us?"
"Someday, yes."
Without another word, she cast a pair of silent Stunners, and her parents slumped over unconscious.
"I'm doing this for you," Hermione whispered, and began the tedious process of cutting, pasting, and manipulating her parents' memories. It took four and a half hours, but when Hermione finally stood up, disillusioned herself, and released her parents from the stunning spell, they were no longer Nathan and Helen Granger, parents of Muggleborn witch Hermione Granger. They were Wendell and Monica Wilkins, a childless couple, who were migrating to Australia for a second honeymoon and then to open a dental practice. They were all packed and ready to go, including Monica's grizzly old cat Crookshanks, who was in his pet carrier.
As for Hermione, she was already out of the door, her things shrunk and packed away into a miniature model house that was the handmade pride of Wendell Wilkins; she was leaving with a heavy heart, but she knew that Crookshanks and her bedroom would go wherever her parents might settle, and so in a way, they were still taking a little bit of her with them. It was just that they didn't remember her.
Hermione had never realized, all the times she'd left to go to Hogwarts, just how lonely it felt to be forgotten. As she trudged down the street to the closest Apparition point, however, a tear rolled down her cheek. Sometimes she wondered what her life would have been like if she had never discovered her magic, had never made friends with Harry Potter. But theb again, it wasn't like she had any other choice.
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