Prologue

The Luck potion was making it hard to concentrate. Her
whole mind was fighting against its natural desire to over-analyze the
situation and what she should do and the potion that was telling her do this
and that and not worry about it.

Her eyes caught the sight of a stranger running ahead of
her, and the potion told her to follow him because he would keep her safe.
Hermione instantly wanted to go against its will. What if the stranger was a
Death Eater? How was he going to keep her safe?

But despite her qualms, her body ran faster and caught up
to the person easily. The unfamiliar person was hooded and Hermione could not identify
who he was. Roughly, the stranger jerked her to the left. She wanted to shriek;
she tried to, but the potion glued her mouth shut.

And, with
a small gasp escaping, then she noticed who it was.

Chapter 1

From the outside of a home belonging to the local dentists
of a cozy English town, one would only think that a normal family lived inside.
Everything from the slowly dying brown grass, to the swings and kiddy bicycles
that was the only evidence that they had a child, to the average cars in the
driveway made the house look exactly like the normal house next to it, just
like the normal family inside.

Only the family inside was anything but normal.

The home belonged to the Grangers. The Grangers had one
daughter, Hermione. And the Granger’s daughter—who was rarely home due to her
boarding school—wasn’t a normal girl. If anything, she was the exact opposite
of normal. Hermione Granger was a
witch, capable of great and beautiful magic.

Her boarding school, wasn’t any boring normal old school
either. Hermione Granger was a model student at Britain’s finest and only
Wizarding School: Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She was in the Gryffindor
house, the brightest witch of her age, and most importantly of all, she was a
best friend to Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. She would stick by her friend
through thick and thin, rain or shine, war or peace, which was why Hermione was
about take away any memories her parents had of her.

There was a war brewing that the muggles were clueless to.
A war threatening to destroy everything good and just in the wizarding and
muggle worlds. Harry Potter was the Chosen One, the one meant to end the war,
and because of this any memories linking her to her parents would only endanger
them much more than just being muggles would.

Her wand— beautifully carved out of hawthorn—was shaky in
her hands as she waited for the right moment. There was only one chance to do
this right. While the odds to do it correctly were quite high, everything could
go wrong. Hermione was confident, but she knew confidence could always be
misleading.

“Hermione! Come down for dinner!” Her father called.

Times up, she thought to herself.
Trembling, she grabbed her charmed purple handbag and looked around her room. Although
she had barely spent much time in there since she turned fourteen, it was still
her room. It was sad to think that tomorrow some realtor she had hired was
going to be showing it off. That soon, someone else was going to be living in
this house. It was strange to think that in all her time living here, now, when
she knew that she was never coming back, it meant more to her than it ever had in
her life.

Hermione left her room, and went to the kitchen where her
parents were waiting on her. They had not spotted her yet. So Hermione stayed
quiet, taking in the last few moments she had with them knowing her. She raised
her wand not allowing the tears welling up in her eyes to fall. In a moment
they would no longer be Dr. Henry Granger and Dr. Ellen Granger. They would be
Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins—a couple about to 
head off for Australia in the morning. They had no child. They had no
ambitions of having one. They would never know Hermione was theirs.

That was the only
way she was able to protect them from Voldemort.

It was her responsibility to take care of them after all
the had sacrificed for her. Neither of their parents would speak to them because
they fully supported her witchcraft education. Her mother let go of her life
long dream of Hermione going to the same finishing school as she had.

But standing there, looking at the two people who had made
her part of who she was, she didn’t want them to forget her. She wanted to be
selfish and give them all new identities. Hermione wanted to go with them to
Australia, be normal and pretend the end of the world might be going down.

But Harry needed her. Ron needed her. And she was a
Gryffindor. She ashamedly put aside her cowardly, almost Slytherin wants and
focused on the memories she need to create, feeling the power flow between her
and her wand.

“Hermione, what are you doing?” her mum had caught sight
of her reflection in the cabinet glass, stunned as she saw her daughter’s wand aimed
at her.

“I love you.” She whispered. “Obliviate.” 

^^^

It took only six minutes for the charms to take place. Six
minutes and Hermione’s life was changed unmistakable forever. The pictures of
her on the family photo wall faded until there was nothing left. The place
setting on the table meant for her disappeared in the same manner. Similar
happenings began all around the house until there was no ties of Hermione
left.  After the spell was done she hide
in the attic room until her parents left. She watched them leave through the
attic window overlooking the street.

For a while she could do nothing except sit on the worn
out cushion on the window sill and cry. Cry for the people she could no longer
call Mum and Dad, cry for the probably forever lost memories of their lives,
and cry for what was to come of them. And then she cried because the room she
was sitting in still smelled of oatmeal cookies. She cried for the pictures she
had drawn when she was six were gone from when the attic was her play room. She
would bet ten galleons that under the seat she was sitting on, there was make
up she had taken from her mother’s vanity to play with. And when she looked to
she if coral pigmented tube had waited there in it’s hiding place, she cried
some more, because she realized the spell had taken care of that too. The only
proof that Hermione had ever been in the room was herself.

When Hermione finally couldn’t get another tear out and
she was sufficiently calmed down, she sent a quick Patronus to the Weasley’s
telling them that she would be there soon. The otter scurried off to it’s
destination, leaving a parse trace of periwinkle glimmers.

Before she left, she summoned a sign and with one final
flourish of magic in her childhood home, she sent the for sale sign to the
front of the yard. Without another look, she disapparated to the Burrow and
that was the last she saw of her home for a long time.