Evanescent

July 5th, 1997

Walking off the train platform, Hermione forced herself to smile back at the brightly lit faces of her waiting parents.

“My darling girl!“ her father yelled, smiling with his arms held wide. Hermione felt her chest tighten as she quickly walked into his hug. 

“Dad!“ She hugged his middle tightly and felt her mothers arms circle around them both. 

“Hi, Mum…” she whispered into her dad’s chest, voice barely audible. Tears threatened to spill as she swallowed down the tightness in her throat. She had missed them so much. She quietly soaked in the familiar scent of her mother’s vanilla perfume and the comforting warmth of her father’s embrace.

“How was the ride, sweetheart?” her mother asked, gently tucking a curl behind Hermione’s ear.

Hermione forced herself to let go of her dad and step back, a practiced smile settling on her face. She would not cry. She had promised herself she wouldn’t give her parents any reason to worry.

“Really good, mum, thanks for asking. I'm so happy to see you guys! I've missed you both so much!“

Her father's smile turned sad as he wrapped an arm around her mother's shoulders. "We missed you too, sweet girl. We always do when you're away.“

Her mother tilted her head, giving Hermione a once over, a look of concern growing on her face. “Sweetheart, is everything alright?“ 

Fearing her mother's intuition, Hermione quickly dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. “Yes, just tired is all! I'm ready for a cup of tea and my bed.“ she said with a grin. 

Her mothers eyes ran over her face once more, and Hermione could tell she was unconvinced but she gave a subtle nod anyway. “Of course, sweetheart. Come on, let's get you home.“

As her parents turned to gather her things to leave, Hermione felt her smile falter, her mask slipping for just a moment.

She watched them with quiet reverence, committing their details to memory; Her mothers long, soft curls, neatly pinned back with her favorite barrette. Her father's worn out ochre colored Oxfords that he stubbornly refused to replace. The graceful, elegant movements of her mother as she fluttered about, and the dimple that appears in her father's left cheek when he smiles. 

Her amazing, beautiful, loving parents were okay. They are safe and she was here now and she is going to make sure they stay protected and far from the mayhem that was happening in the wizarding world... No matter the cost.

*****

The following day, Hermione barely registered the gentle drizzle starting outside as she stood at her large dining room window overlooking her backyard, lost in thought.

It had been three days since Dumbledore's funeral and she was still struggling to come to terms with his death. 

Dumbledore was supposed to have been the strongest wizard to everlive. How could one with so much brilliance and wisdom, so much power, fall prey to Voldemort's schemes? She replayed the details of his death that Harry relayed to her over and over again in her head, like a puzzle to be solved. Nothing about it seemed to fit, and she couldn't help but wonder if there had been intention on her beloved mentors part in it all. The more she thought on it, the more questions she had. But the ugly reality remained: it really didn't matter how much she ruminated on it. He was gone now. And with his death, both her answers and her optimism in this war left right along with him. 

The pain of his loss washed over her again and she clenched her eyes shut, trying to hold back her tears.

She needed to keep her composure. Her parents were in the next room, and the last thing she needed was to alert them that something was amiss.

After a moment of hesitation, she glanced outside and finally noticed the rain. It rained at the funeral, too. How fitting it had been, that the sky would also mourn the loss of such an extraordinary wizard. As if it, too, recognized the shift in the world as another bright light was smothered out of existence, and the darkness grew just a bit more.

Her thoughts then turned to Harry, another ray of light. Immediately following Dumbledore's funeral, he wasted no time coming up with a plan for their next move. He told her how Dumbledore had revealed to him that Voldemort created horcruxes and that the only way to truly defeat Voldemort was by finding and destroying these objects first. Harry made it all sound so deceptively simple- except that Dumbledore had left no clues or instructions as to what or where the other horcruxes could be. So, when Hermione inquired about seeking out help, Harry was quick to explain that Dumbledore told him that no one else could know of any of this. That they would be on their own.

Hopelessly hopeful Harry. How fun it must be to be so naive and fearless! But Hermione was a realist. She knew right away that this task, as it stood, was virtually impossible.

None of it made sense.

Where would they even start? 

Why would Dumbledore leave such an important mission to them? Three teenagers? 

Why not just share this information with the Order?

She understood that this knowledge was of the upmost importance and risking it getting into the wrong hands could be detrimental, but she also knew for a fact there were at least a handful of very close and trusted members Dumbledore could've told who were more skilled and experienced than they were. 

It would take much more than Harry's courage, her smarts and Ron's support to literally end a war. How could Harry not see that?! 

She laughed bitterly to herself, feeling frustration bubble up within her.

That bright light of his was blinding him.

Maybe she should tell someone in the Order. Kingsley? Or maybe Lupin? Both fought in the first war and had shown consistent loyalty to the Order... The more she thought on it, the more she realized Harry was refusing to grasp the true gravity of the situation. 

Trying to ground herself, she refocused on her plan to protect her parents in all of this. Her concern for her their safety had grown exponentially with the growing threat of Voldemort's evil now leeching into the muggle world. She became plagued by constant nightmares- visions of Death Eaters finding them unprotected and vulnerable, and of coming home to find them mutilated and killed.

One night, after waking from a particularly brutal dream, a desperate thought struck her: the only way to truly protect her parents would be to remove any connection they had with the wizarding world altogether. 

Initially, the idea seemed too absurd. How could she possibly achieve that? But as more sleepless nights passed and her anxieties deepened, she began frantically researching anything that could help. After many frustrating dead ends, she finally stumbled upon a complex memory charm that seemed to meet her specific needs. One that, when done correctly, could alter a person's memories to completely change their reality as they know it. She was so stunned, she almost gave herself away in the hidden alcove of the restricted section in the library that night.

The spell was dark and complex and came with great risks, but she was desperate. So she spent the following months preparing and planning, and now here she was, back home with her loving parents with a plan that was meant to help them but only felt like betrayal. 

She just loved them somuch… 

She couldn't lose them. 

“Hermione, love, it's almost time for lunch. Is there anything you're wanting me to make?“ her mother's soft voice called.

Regaining her focus, she ignored the guilt and shame and used her fear to fuel her on. She turned to head towards the living room. 

“No thanks, mum. I'm not all that hungry. I was actually thinking about heading upstairs for a bit.“

Hermione leaned against the door frame to the living room and gently smiled as she spotted her parents nestled together on the couch watching television. This was their usual activity of choice for Sunday afternoons and she was secretly glad for the helpful distraction. 

Her mother turned and smiled at her. “Alright, dear. I'll leave something on the counter for you in case you change your mind.“ Hermione nodded in thanks and waited for her mother to turn back around and watched her snuggle into her father's arms. 

She fought to swallow down the tightness in her throat and waited a few more moments before stepping forward and raising her wand towards the back of her parents heads. Hand slightly shaking, she took in a deep breath.

“AlterareMemoriae”, she whispered.  

A faint white light lit up the room and she immediately closed her eyes to concentrate on the new narrative she needed to create for them. Performing this spell correctly required a magnitude of skill that she wasn't confident she had but there was no way to practice the spell prior to using it, so she had to take great caution in each step of the alteration process and not rush through it. 

After what felt like hours, she finally opened her eyes. Breathing heavily, she wiped away the sweat that had gathered on her forehead and she relaxed her stiff arms. Her body felt heavy and tired as she slowly moved forward to check on her parents still forms. Sighing with relief, she watched as they lay there sleeping peacefully. She took note of their even breathing and looked for any signs of possible distress. After finding none, she collapsed into a chair adjacent to them. 

Staring at her parents, she sat in stunned silence. She had really done it... There was no turning back now. She prayed she had done everything correctly. As nausea churned in her stomach, she tried to comfort herself by reaffirming her actions. 

This was the smartest choice. 

This was the safest choice. 

Things in the war were escalating. 

People were dying. 

Voldemort's army was growing in numbers and strength by the day, and to make matters worse, Harry had become a prime target of the Death Eaters because of that damned prophecy! He was probably being hunted at this very moment and she and Ron along with him!

She leaned forward and hugged herself tightly as primal fear suddenly flooded through her.

This was all so much bigger than they could handle. 

They were not properly equipped for any of this!

The liklihood of defeating Voldemort seemed impossible at this rate, and the fate of the wizarding world currently sat in the hands of one ill-fated teenager who didn't even know what the hell he was doing!

The odds really were against them...

Her breathing became labored and her vision tunneled as the thoughts of fear and doubt consumed her. 

If Dumbledore could be killed, then who am I even kidding to think I can make it through this war? How could he put this on our shoulder's?! 

Gods… we're going to die. 

This is all too much! I haven't even had a chance to truly live yet!

Barely an adult, she thought of all of the milestones she had yet to experience. She wanted more time to focus on her studies, or go out on silly dates with silly boys. To learn how to drive a car or see more of the world with her parents. She yearned to just be a kid without the fear of some disaster happening around her!

She suddenly got up and walked back to stand at the dining room window. She stared out and up at the shotgun grey colored sky and for a brief moment thought of eyes the same shade.

Then without skipping a beat, she closed her eyes, raised her wand to her temple and chanted, “AlterareMemoriae."

Quickly setting her intentions, she felt a slight tugging sensation start at the base of her skull and gasped as the pressure surged forward, a sudden flood of memories rushing forth:

A crisp white paper addressed to her, a purple wax seal with a large “H” on it; Her first trip to Diagon Alley full of chatter and oddly dressed people bustling about; Her magic tingling in her small hands as they slid along the smooth wood of her wand for the first time; A flutter in her tummy when she finally caught a glimpse of the light blonde haired boy she had read about in a book of wizarding royalty; Nervously sitting in a chair with a large musky hat on her head with a room full of people staring at her; Walking through the court yard, her arms linked with Harry's and Ron's, the three of them smiling and laughing; Her confusion and then shock at being called a 'mudblood' for the first time; Excitedly raising her hand in potions class, proud with herself for knowing the answer; Walking into the Hogwarts library and sitting in her favorite window seat; A pair of silver eyes locking with hers from across the Great Hall…

The memories continued to come as she pushed on, straining to keep her focus. On and on and on they went until finally-

Her arm dropped down to her side and Hermione slowly opened her eyes. Blinking a few times to clear her vision, she suddenly felt tears run down her cheeks. Was she crying? She quickly wiped at her face with the back of her hand and gave her head a small shake, causing her to flinch.

Uhg... Great. A bloody headache...

Gingerly looking around, she tried to remember what she was doing.

Oh, that's right!

There was a lot of work to be done! She didn't have time to be standing around. With a dramatic sigh, she turned to set off for her tasks, taking mental note of her long list of to-dos. But as she walked out of the room, she paused, glanced at her right hand, and giggled.

Why on earth was she was holding a stick?