The morning sky was various shades of oranges and yellows and pinks, and the window, made foggy by the mist last night, was being partially blocked from view from one of my long, black curls. Wait. Long, black curls? I groan, as I was babysitting last night, it could have been a prank to switch my shampoo for something else. I stand up, and walk outside to the full-length mirror in the hall to view my new hair. I hope it’s not permanent. As soon as I step across from the mirror, I shriek. It’s not just my hair. My once olive skin is now pale, my once brown eyes are now jet black, my once normal lips are naturally full and mockingly pouty. My eyelashes are very long, and my once normal figure is now an hourglass figure. I look noticeably prettier than before, but I remind myself strongly of a person that I wish not to be reminded about. “Mother!” I shriek. I managed to regain their memories around one week ago. She comes groggily out of her room, but her eyes widen when she sees me. She takes a deep breath, and pulls out something from her back pocket, something black, thin, and long. She flicks her wrist, presumably casting a nonverbal spell with her wand. Why does she have a wand? Knowing muggles will get in trouble if they use magic, I snatch the wand from her as quickly as I can. While I’m doing this, I notice that my pale skin goes back to the olive color it once was. I reach up and touch my hair, and it’s brown and wavy again. My mother fixed it. Wait, how did she fix it? “Where did you get this?” I ask my mum, brandishing it in her face, nervous for her and me. “Ollivander’s.” She replies, a sad glint in her eye. How did she get a wand from Ollivander’s? “Did you steal it?” I ask, bracing myself for her answer, expecting it to feel like a splash of cold water. “No. It chose me.” She replies, the sad glint still visible. The splash of cold water didn’t come. It felt more like the force of one thousand December waves crashing into me all at once. I gulp. “You’re lying!” I exclaim, so confused I forget I’m talking to my own mother. She does not seem mad, but she does seem guilty, and sad, and ashamed of something. “I need to talk to you.” She says, as there’s a ring on the doorbell. “That must be them...” she muttered, and answered it. At the door was none other than Ministry of Magic official, Kingsley. “Jean!” He says, pulling my mother into a short hug. He glances at me. “Is there a problem with the Glamour Charm?” He audibly whispers. My mum shakes her head. “I took it off temporarily.” She replies, taking back her wand out of my hand and once again waving it at me. How in earth does Kingsley know my mum? “Sit down.” Says Kingsley. Usually his deep, reassuring voice calms me, but there’s something I don’t understand about being told to sit down in my own home. Nevertheless, I do as he says. My mum clears her throat and speaks first after a long pause of silence. “Hermione, there’s something you need to know. I don’t know how to break this to you- it’s not an easy concept to grasp. We are- Micheal and I- I mean your father- oh, your adoptive father- oops. Honey, we are your foster parents.” She finishes, calmly, but there’s a battle going on inside her eyes. I don’t react. How could she have kept this from me? She’s a freaking witch! And she didn’t tell me this before now? Kingsley speaks next. “Your parents are not the best people. They were big supporters of You-Know-Who, and still are. They were, and are still, in very close league with him, and we couldn’t have you raised like that, so the Ministry took some things into our own hands. He says this like there’s no big deal. I mean, Hey Hermione, your parents are Death Eaters! Okay, bye! That’s basically what he’s saying! “Who are they?” I don’t want to know, actually, but you know the saying. Curiosity killed the Gryffindor. Kingsley and my mum both answered this. “Rodolphus LeStrange.” He said, and gestures to my mother. “Bellatrix LeStrange.” She finishes. I feel like fainting and throwing up at the same time. Bellatrix LeStrange? The one who tortured Alice and Frank Longbottom? The one who killed my best friend’s godfather? The one who tortured me in the Malfoy Manor? The one who slaughtered that poor House Elf, Dobby? That Bellatrix LeStrange? I know it must be, LeStrange isn’t a common name. I don’t want to believe it. But the truth is the truth, now matter how evil and vulgar it is.