Mrs. Weasley
After pouring them both second cups of tea Hagrid sat down again.
‘Well, yeh don’ know anything, do yeh? I better start from the beginnin’ then,’ Hagrid said, settling down into the stump-chairs.
Some part of Hermione, the part that still cared about appearing smart and precocious, was affronted at being told she didn’t know anything. But the greater part of herself knew it was true. She was lost. She didn't know who the men that attacked her were, or why they attacked her.
Hagrid told Hermione about muggles, and muggleborns. He said that the men who attacked her were part of a group of people called ‘death eaters’ who didn’t like her because she was muggleborn. He explained that the death eaters were followers of ‘You-Know-Who.’
‘Actually, um. Mr. Hagrid, I don’t know who.’
‘Well. We just call ‘im You-Know-Who. It’s not his real name o’ course, but it’s just what yeh’ll have to call ‘im. And please! It’s jus’ Hagrid.’
Hermione was miffed that Hagrid wouldn’t tell her ‘You-Know-Who’s name, but she was absorbing too much information to push at that detail just yet.
Apparently, the death eaters had a way to track magic done in muggle areas, and that’s how they found her. He explained to her that he knew her name because the Order of the Phoenix was trying to protect her. A man named Dumbledore (who sounded like he was the leader of the Order) had set up ‘wards’ around her houses that might have muggleborn children, including hers, so that she could safely do magic there, but if she had done any accidental magic outside of those walls it could be tracked. When her parents were attacked, the wards had alerted the Order, and Hagrid was sent to help her. She realised that they must have tracked her magic when she healed Lucky on the street, and the second time when she started the fire to cook the pheasant.
Hagrid told her that the policy for death eaters was to remove any memories of magic from the muggle parents and muggleborn children, and bind the magic of the muggleborn child so that they couldn’t access it again.
‘It’s awful and unnatural for a wizard to have their magic tramped down like tha’. You can’ turn a witch or wizard into a muggle, so they still live with their magic—can still feel it. They just can’ do anything about it, and they don’ know what it is’
‘Well, they didn’t remove my memories,’ Hermione said. ‘An-and my parents,’ Hermione stuttered. ‘They didn’t just forget that magic existed. They forgot that I existed too.’
‘Summat must’ve gone wrong in yer case. I’m sorry, Hermione.’
‘So,’ Hermione began, hesitantly. ‘My parents forgot who I am, because of my magic.’
‘No. Yer parents were attacked by bad people. Yeh can’ blame yerself,’ Hagrid said.
‘Still, if I didn’t do magic then I would still have my parents.’ Hermione’s voice broke. ‘I would give up my magic in a heartbeat if it meant getting my parents back.’
One look at Hagrid’s sad face let her know that it didn’t work like that.
‘Well. If giving up magic isn’t an option, then I’ll just have to get good enough at magic to heal my parents,’ Hermione said. The words felt right. Saying them was the first thing that had felt right in a while.
‘Hermione, I don’t think yeh’ll be able to. If Dumbledore couldn’ help them, no one can.’
‘You’re wrong.’
‘Magic can’ solve everything, Hermione.’
Hermione closed her eyes and tears streamed down her face. How was she going to do this? She wanted to sob. But she had more questions. ‘Please tell me who You-Know-Who is.’
Hagrid gulped. ‘See, there was this wizard who went. . . bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. Nobody says his name ‘cause he’ll find you if you do.’
‘There’s a spell for that?’ Hermione asked, horrified.
Hagrid nodded solemnly. ‘Called a Taboo. Not anyone could do it, but You-Know-Who, well… he’s done things no good witch or wizard would ever do.’
They were silent for a long moment.
‘You, know,’ Hermione said, with finality. ‘I don’t care if you say magic can’t heal my parents. Dumbledore can’t know everything, he doesn’t know them, and he doesn’t know me. They’re my parents. And I’m their daughter. I’ll make them remember me, I’ll discover something Dumbledore hasn’t. I know I will.’
Hagrid said nothing.
—
After they finished their tea, Hagrid took a few crumbly biscuits out of his coat pocket which they ate as they talked. Hermione showed him the wand she stole, and he seemed impressed.
‘Once you learn how to use tha’ it’ll be comin’ in handy,’ he said.
They took off in Hagrid’s motorbike again, and this time Hermione was too sad and distracted to appreciate the flight. She held Lucky tightly as they flew through the clouds and above the sky. When they landed, Hagrid gently patted her shoulder. ‘We’re here. This is the Burrow. Yeh’ll be staying here with Molly Weasley, don’t worry, she’s a friend, and a member of the Order,’ he said.
They were outside a building that was much taller than it was wide, and seemed to be made of many small wooden huts stacked on top of each other. It looked like it could collapse under its own weight, let alone the weight of the snow piled on top of it.
‘Do yeh have any other things?’ Hagrid asked.
‘The only stuff I have left is my wand and Lucky, and neither of those things even properly belong to me.’
‘You stole him, as well, then?’
‘Lucky belongs to himself.’ Hermione shrugged. At that moment Lucky wriggled out of Hermione’s arms and went sprinting through the snow towards the treeline. He didn’t seem happy after the motorbike flight.
‘Lucky! No! Come back!’ Hermione cried.
‘Now, I wouldn’t worry ‘bout ‘im, Hermione,’ Hagrid said with a smile. ‘Yeh said he belonged to himself, didn’t yeh? And I reckon he’ll come back in the mornin.’
‘Yes, but he’ll freeze out there,’ Hermione said worriedly.
‘Kneazles love the cold, he’ll be fine!’ said a woman, stepping out of the house. She was plump and rosy-cheeked, and had a kind face.
‘Kneazles?’ asked Hermione.
‘Tha’s what Lucky is. Muggles mistake ‘em for cats,’ said Hagrid. ‘Molly’s right, o’course. Lucky will be happy as a niffler in gringotts out there!’
Baffled, Hermione turned towards the woman. What in the world was a niffler? Or gringotts?
‘Don’t worry, dear, I’ll leave out a bit of food for him, and you’ll see him in the morning.’
Hermione nodded, not saying anything.
‘I’m Molly Weasley, Hermione. I hope you’ll be happy to live with me and my daughter, for the time being.’
‘Hermione Granger.’ Hermione stuck out her hand for Mrs. Weasley to shake.
Mrs. Weasley stepped forward and enveloped Hermione in a hug. Hermione barely had time to squeak in surprise before Mrs. Weasley was ushering her into the house.
‘Better come inside, dear, it’s freezing out here! Hagrid! Lovely to see you. Tea?’
‘Just had some, Molly. Lovely to see yeh too, but I hafta get going, I’ve got another mission from Dumbledore before the night’s over.’
‘Alright, well, good luck, and good night, Hagrid. Come back for some tea soon?’ Mrs. Weasley asked.
‘O’course, Molly.’
Hagrid waved goodbye and took off on the motorbike. For some reason the oddness of a flying motorbike was just now hitting Hermione. Hadn’t Hagrid also made some joke about flying brooms earlier?
Inside the Burrow was warm and cosy. Mrs. Weasley sat Hermione down at the kitchen table. ‘Goodness! You’re skin and bones! Let me make you something to eat!’
‘I’ve already eaten,’ said Hermione faintly. Although she did feel like she could eat some more.
‘Just a snack,’ Mrs. Weasley said placatingly, as she waved her wand and a couple eggs cracked themselves into a pan and a few slices of bread flew into the oven.
Mrs. Weasley poured Hermione a cup of tea while the eggs cooked. Hermione found Mrs. Weasley’s presence to be immensely comforting.
‘Mrs. Weasley? Can I ask you a question?’
‘Of course.’
‘Do you know what the spell that they used on my parents was called?’
Mrs. Weasley busied herself buttering toast. ‘Oh sweetheart, maybe we should discuss this later. Give yourself a chance to rest and eat first.’
‘Please, Mrs. Weasley, knowing the spell won’t hurt.’
Mrs. Weasley hesitated. ‘Okay, you’re right.’ She turned back towards Hermione, gently placing a plate of eggs in front of Hermione. ‘It’s called Obliviate.’
Hermione was silent. That was just an ordinary word. Nothing magical about it. Obliviate. To completely destroy. To wipe from existence.
As Hermione ate, Mrs. Weasley noticed her wound and began to fuss about with healing spells and potions.
‘Hagrid really should have told me you were injured by a curse. That man.’ Mrs. Weasley said in an irritated tone.
Hermione felt an impulse to come to Hagrid’s defence. ‘He already healed me, see?’
Mrs. Weasley just tutted and said that she would do her best to heal it completely, but that it would scar.
As Mrs. Weasley fretted, Hermione saw a pale face peek through the railings of the staircase. It was a red-haired girl.
‘Who’s that?’ Hermione asked.
Mrs. Weasley looked up. ‘Ginny, dear, go to your room right now, we’ll talk later.’
Ginny flushed and then nodded silently and ran back up the stairs.
‘That’s my daughter,’ Mrs. Weasley said with warmth in her voice. ‘My youngest child.’
‘Oh.’
‘You can meet her after you get a good rest, it’s very late, and I’m sure you’re exhausted.’
She was right, Hermione felt like she could sleep for days. Mrs. Weasley led Hermione up several flights of stairs and showed her the room she would be staying in.
‘It’s my son Charlie’s room.’ Mrs. Weasley opened the door. ‘He won’t be home for a while, so you can make yourself at home’ She said it casually, but Hermione heard a note of sadness in her voice.
—
Hermione was being chased. She ran through snowy, dark woods, thick with underbrush. Leaves and sticks got tangled in her hair and yanked her back. It was difficult to run in the snow, with each step she took she sunk down into it, deeper with each step. The death eaters were right behind her, flying fast.
In front of her she saw tiny footprints. They were cat’s footprints. She followed the footprints cautiously, and they led her to a small snowy clearing. In the middle of the clearing sat a large black cat.
‘Lucky!’ she shouted with joy. She found him, he hadn’t been lost after all.
‘Who are you?’ Lucky said.
‘It’s me, Hermione. We’re friends, remember?’
Lucky said nothing, just stared at her, unblinking.
‘You don’t remember me?’
‘No.’ Lucky ran up a tree.
Hermione looked over her shoulder. The death eaters were here, and the man with the black eyes was staring into her soul. You-Know-Who would be here soon. The woods behind them were on fire. Suddenly, all the trees around her went up in a blaze. The fire was so bright. She would burn.
Hermione turned over in bed. She gasped awake. The fear in her stomach dissipated, but the feeling of loss from Lucky forgetting her didn’t. She looked out at the dark window. She knew Mrs. Weasley said he would be okay, but why did he leave her to run off in the woods? Didn’t he want to be with her? What if he got lost? Hermione drifted off to sleep again, this time with tears on her cheeks. When Hermione woke up in the morning to sunlight streaming in through the windows, she had forgotten her dream.