The Golden Wand [Harry Potter/Percy Jackson]

Chapter 34: Hermione's Regret

Hermione POV:

I have very few regrets in life. 

Despite everything I've been through - the fight against the Dark Lord especially - I would say I've had a good life. I had a happy upbringing, I am doing well with my studies, I made great friends, I fell in love with a great person... even if it went bad near the end, I don't regret it. 

Neither do I regret killing Lucius Malfoy; I know I probably should, I know that murder is a bad thing and that I robbed a father from his son, but I do not regret doing it. I'm sad about it, sure; I have nightmares about it all the time; I still struggle to look Draco in the face; my wand still trembles in my hand when I remember what spell it has been used for... but, logically speaking, killing Lucius did more good than bad. Dumbledore even said it was necessary. Draco thanks me for it. 

But I do have one regret. One, big, regret. 

Three years ago, after Harry and Cedric had fought Voldemort in the graveyard and the Ministry had publicly announced the Dark Lord's return, I had performed a spell that I thought would be saving two lives - my parents' lives. Voldemort's attacks on the world became bloodier and more frequent - he attacked muggles and wizards alike. I feared, seeing as I played a large role in taking down Voldemort, that he would come after my parents. So I wiped their memories of myself - of my very existence - from their minds. That way, if he ever did find them, they could tell him nothing. 

I haven't seen them since. 

I've always been good at magic; have ever since I got my wand from Olivander's and he assured me I'd be a great witch one day. I've been top in my year for seven years straight - Harry even says I'm too good for my own good. So when I used the obliviate charm on my parents, thinking the effect should only last for a year at most, I made it too strong, too powerful. The effects did not wear off, and when I returned home one day to get rid of the charm they were not there. 

They had moved out; sold the house to a family of muggles I had never seen before. I panicked, called the Ministry, got Tonks and Shacklebolt on the case. They couldn't find my parents at all. They said it's hard to track muggles because they leave no magical traces, and they left nothing at the house that could be used to find them. I kept praying, hoping and praying, that my charm might suddenly stop working and they would remember their daughter that they once cared for so dearly. They would come rushing home, they would be so determined to find me that they would march right up to the gates of Hogwarts, and I would see them again. 

But it had been three years since I last saw them, and I started to give up hope. Harry and Ron didn't know, of course. No one alive knew apart from Tonks (and I had a slight suspicion that she had informed Dumbledore), so each year when the students of Hogwarts would return home to their families I would spend my summer renting a room in the Leaky Cauldron... praying that next year would be different.

This is my one regret: that I lost my parents and they might never return.

Tonks was my sponsor for the competition. I walked into Classroom 3 and she was sat in there, waiting for me, drinking a cup of tea with Professor McGonagall. McGonagall was surprised but happy to see that Tonks was my sponsor, not my parents. Tonks covered for me and said my parents were busy. Then the two adults made plans to go out for a meal on Friday evening, McGonagall walked out of the room with a pleased grin on her face and I was left alone with Tonks.

I asked her if she had found my parents yet. She said no. I got sad and angry and I cried and yelled and we argued. I told her she wasn't doing enough, she told me I wasn't letting her do enough because I didn't want anyone else to know about my secret. She said "If only you would let me tell Remus, or Dumbledore..." and we argued some more. My mistake, my secret, "please don't expose me to the world" I begged. We stopped arguing and cried some more. I admitted I was angry at myself, not at her.