Title: H.O.P.E
Author: Typically Chugging Tea
Rating: PG-13
Ship: None
Summary: Neville visits his mother and father at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries
Disclaimer: All Characters Belong to JK ROWLING, Scholastic Press, and Warner Brothers. I am simply borrowing them.
A/N: This is inspired by the new book Harry Potter & The Order of the Phoenix (Chapter 23, Christmas on The Closed Ward) and a scene from "The Laramie Project" by Moises Kaufman and the members of Tectonic Theater Project
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There lived a lonely boy, but he was special. He wasn't special because his grandmother continued to remind him on a daily basis. He wasn't special because of his expertise in Herbology. Nor he wasn't special because his best friends just happen to be Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley. Neville Longbottom was special because of his part in a prophecy. A prophecy he wasn't aware of but continued to play out his part in aiding Harry in his quest to vanish the evil Lord Voldemort. To the outside world, Neville Longbuttom was a clumsy, hormonal, normal teenage boy. In the depth of his bedroom, he was something more.
During the summer, Neville and his grandmother would often frequent St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. He often would hide his face under a hood or hat as he walked through the crowded streets before the institution out of fear of being recognized. Once inside, he remained hidden underneath the disguise. Though many nurses and healers would pass by him greeting him with smiles and waves, he remained hidden.
Once inside the ward, Neville would finally remove the hood and glance at the occupants as he passed. Usually, there would be only 1 or 2 new patients with only minor injuries. The majority of the ward would remain the same; some remembering Neville and others would stare at him as if he had only come into life 20 minutes before. He was so use to this treatment that he let it slide. Though, every now and then, someone Neville became attached to would forget him. Then the pain that had become so familiar would return. It was difficult, it was very difficult.
Neville and his grandmother moved along the rows of beds until they reached the end of the room where 2 beds were curtained off. As usual, they visited the bed on the right where his mother's bed was. Pulling back the curtains, he saw her sitting on the edge of the bed playing with something in her hands.
"Hello Alice!" his grandmother would boom, as she would stretch her arms wide in an overly enthusiastic hug. Neville constantly rolled his eyes at this, his grandmother often complained of the hassles to go into London constantly to visit her daughter and son in law but continued to do it for Neville's sake.
She wrapped her thick arms around his skinny mother and embraced her in a bear hug. Neville had seen pictures of his mother before the "event"; she had so much life in her eyes, Neville's eyes. Now they were sad and empty, her skin was pale and her cheeks were hollow. It was painful for Neville to see his mother that way, wrapped up in so much misery for so long and Neville not knowing how to help.
"Alice, look who I brought today," his grandmother said in a sugar-coated tone as she gestured towards Neville, "It's Neville. You remember Neville your son." His mother's eyes settle on him, her once vibrant blue eyes had turned to a dull gray. His grandmother softly shoved Neville towards her and he wrapped his around her bony body in an uncomfortable, awkward hug. His mother didn't hug back; her arms hung limply at her sides. He let go and looked at her, her eyes staring curiously at him making Neville feel slightly uncomfortable.
"Well say hello, Neville," She pushed.
"Hey, mum," he said in a small voice. His mother began to gesture to his hands for Neville to come near him. He did so and she pulled his hand out and opened his hand, placed something on his palm, and closed it once again. Neville gave her an odd look and then looked into his hand.
"What did she give you this time, dear?" His grandmother inquired. Neville held up a small candy wrapper, and his grandmother rolled her eyes. "Again? I don't understand Alice, why do you always give Neville garbage? You're a big girl, you can throw it away on your own." She said to his mother in a baby voice. She only looked back at her in a blank stare; his grandmother heaved a heavy sigh.
"Come on dear, let's go visit your father." His grandmother said and guided Neville towards the bed on the opposite side of the room. Neville looked over at his shoulder and saw his mother crawl under her covers in a ball. Neville never knew exactly why his mother continued to give him candy wrappers; he guessed it was some type of communication for her silent ways. A way for her to tell him it would be all right, or that she loved him. It was something that gave Neville hope very time they visited. It was a constant he could look forward to every visit, like a warm hug or a soft kiss on the cheek. He pocketed the small candy wrapper.
Neville watched as his grandmother pull back the soft blue curtain that surrounded the bed across the room from his mother. He saw his father laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling above him, not blinking once. It seemed he had not moved from Neville and his grandmother's last visit. Unlike his mother who wanders around the ward, making grunting noises or hand gestures when she needed something. His father didn't move unless someone was there to help him.
"Hello Frank," his grandmother spoke to him, using a softer tone then with his mother. He didn't move. His grandmother picked his hand up and held it softly in hers, "It's your mother in law, Frank, it's Olive," she said as she leaned over the bed, wiping the hair out of his eyes, they didn't blink. The only sign that he was alive was the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. "I have a visitor here with me. It's Neville, your son." This time Neville stepped forward without his grandmother's help.
"Here Honey, take his hand." She said placing his father's limp hand into Neville's hand, "I need to talk to the Healer for a moment. Just talk to him for a while," she said as she scurried off to the doctor who stood at the other end of the room. Neville pulled up a chair with his free hand to the side of his bed and sat down.
"Hey dad," he said, his voice remaining small and weak, "School's out, I should be receiving my O.W.L.S. score any week now. I think I did all right, especially with Herbology." He said but his voice dropped, he felt like he was talking to a sheet of cardboard. He didn't blink, move, or so much as opened his mouth. "Come on dad, say something. You haven't spoken a word for so long. Do something," he pleaded; his father did nothing in return. Neville's face screwed in pain, "I visit you every week and you do nothing but lay there." his voice cracked as tears welled up in his eyes, "I'm starting to forget what your voice sounds like, Dad, just say anything. It doesn't have to be a word or anything. Or squeeze my hand, just something." He continued to do nothing. Neville put his head down onto the bed and placed his father's hand on top of his head. It was so painful, to Neville, to visit your mother and father in a hospital for so many years and them not recognizing you as there own son. Not to hear a word or so much as a mumble from them. He wanted to be a normal family; he wanted his parents' back. Yes, he did love his grandmother and appreciated her for taking into her home and taking care of him, but Neville needed a father figure. He wanted a man to show him how to fly on a broomstick, someone to go to Quidditch games with, and a person to talk to about girl problems at school.
His father's fingers scratched his Neville's head suddenly; Neville shot up as his father's fingers continued to rub his head. His eyes continued to stare straightforward towards the ceiling. A smile grew on Neville's face as he jumped forward and wrapped his arms around his father's strong neck.
"Come on, Neville. Time to go home," his mother called to him. Neville gave his father one last tight squeeze and whispered in his ear "Thank you." He let go and closed the curtains once again. The healers have continually said that there could be little improvement in his father and mother's recovery but Neville knew otherwise. All you need is hope.
Author: Typically Chugging Tea
Rating: PG-13
Ship: None
Summary: Neville visits his mother and father at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries
Disclaimer: All Characters Belong to JK ROWLING, Scholastic Press, and Warner Brothers. I am simply borrowing them.
A/N: This is inspired by the new book Harry Potter & The Order of the Phoenix (Chapter 23, Christmas on The Closed Ward) and a scene from "The Laramie Project" by Moises Kaufman and the members of Tectonic Theater Project
-
There lived a lonely boy, but he was special. He wasn't special because his grandmother continued to remind him on a daily basis. He wasn't special because of his expertise in Herbology. Nor he wasn't special because his best friends just happen to be Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley. Neville Longbottom was special because of his part in a prophecy. A prophecy he wasn't aware of but continued to play out his part in aiding Harry in his quest to vanish the evil Lord Voldemort. To the outside world, Neville Longbuttom was a clumsy, hormonal, normal teenage boy. In the depth of his bedroom, he was something more.
During the summer, Neville and his grandmother would often frequent St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. He often would hide his face under a hood or hat as he walked through the crowded streets before the institution out of fear of being recognized. Once inside, he remained hidden underneath the disguise. Though many nurses and healers would pass by him greeting him with smiles and waves, he remained hidden.
Once inside the ward, Neville would finally remove the hood and glance at the occupants as he passed. Usually, there would be only 1 or 2 new patients with only minor injuries. The majority of the ward would remain the same; some remembering Neville and others would stare at him as if he had only come into life 20 minutes before. He was so use to this treatment that he let it slide. Though, every now and then, someone Neville became attached to would forget him. Then the pain that had become so familiar would return. It was difficult, it was very difficult.
Neville and his grandmother moved along the rows of beds until they reached the end of the room where 2 beds were curtained off. As usual, they visited the bed on the right where his mother's bed was. Pulling back the curtains, he saw her sitting on the edge of the bed playing with something in her hands.
"Hello Alice!" his grandmother would boom, as she would stretch her arms wide in an overly enthusiastic hug. Neville constantly rolled his eyes at this, his grandmother often complained of the hassles to go into London constantly to visit her daughter and son in law but continued to do it for Neville's sake.
She wrapped her thick arms around his skinny mother and embraced her in a bear hug. Neville had seen pictures of his mother before the "event"; she had so much life in her eyes, Neville's eyes. Now they were sad and empty, her skin was pale and her cheeks were hollow. It was painful for Neville to see his mother that way, wrapped up in so much misery for so long and Neville not knowing how to help.
"Alice, look who I brought today," his grandmother said in a sugar-coated tone as she gestured towards Neville, "It's Neville. You remember Neville your son." His mother's eyes settle on him, her once vibrant blue eyes had turned to a dull gray. His grandmother softly shoved Neville towards her and he wrapped his around her bony body in an uncomfortable, awkward hug. His mother didn't hug back; her arms hung limply at her sides. He let go and looked at her, her eyes staring curiously at him making Neville feel slightly uncomfortable.
"Well say hello, Neville," She pushed.
"Hey, mum," he said in a small voice. His mother began to gesture to his hands for Neville to come near him. He did so and she pulled his hand out and opened his hand, placed something on his palm, and closed it once again. Neville gave her an odd look and then looked into his hand.
"What did she give you this time, dear?" His grandmother inquired. Neville held up a small candy wrapper, and his grandmother rolled her eyes. "Again? I don't understand Alice, why do you always give Neville garbage? You're a big girl, you can throw it away on your own." She said to his mother in a baby voice. She only looked back at her in a blank stare; his grandmother heaved a heavy sigh.
"Come on dear, let's go visit your father." His grandmother said and guided Neville towards the bed on the opposite side of the room. Neville looked over at his shoulder and saw his mother crawl under her covers in a ball. Neville never knew exactly why his mother continued to give him candy wrappers; he guessed it was some type of communication for her silent ways. A way for her to tell him it would be all right, or that she loved him. It was something that gave Neville hope very time they visited. It was a constant he could look forward to every visit, like a warm hug or a soft kiss on the cheek. He pocketed the small candy wrapper.
Neville watched as his grandmother pull back the soft blue curtain that surrounded the bed across the room from his mother. He saw his father laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling above him, not blinking once. It seemed he had not moved from Neville and his grandmother's last visit. Unlike his mother who wanders around the ward, making grunting noises or hand gestures when she needed something. His father didn't move unless someone was there to help him.
"Hello Frank," his grandmother spoke to him, using a softer tone then with his mother. He didn't move. His grandmother picked his hand up and held it softly in hers, "It's your mother in law, Frank, it's Olive," she said as she leaned over the bed, wiping the hair out of his eyes, they didn't blink. The only sign that he was alive was the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. "I have a visitor here with me. It's Neville, your son." This time Neville stepped forward without his grandmother's help.
"Here Honey, take his hand." She said placing his father's limp hand into Neville's hand, "I need to talk to the Healer for a moment. Just talk to him for a while," she said as she scurried off to the doctor who stood at the other end of the room. Neville pulled up a chair with his free hand to the side of his bed and sat down.
"Hey dad," he said, his voice remaining small and weak, "School's out, I should be receiving my O.W.L.S. score any week now. I think I did all right, especially with Herbology." He said but his voice dropped, he felt like he was talking to a sheet of cardboard. He didn't blink, move, or so much as opened his mouth. "Come on dad, say something. You haven't spoken a word for so long. Do something," he pleaded; his father did nothing in return. Neville's face screwed in pain, "I visit you every week and you do nothing but lay there." his voice cracked as tears welled up in his eyes, "I'm starting to forget what your voice sounds like, Dad, just say anything. It doesn't have to be a word or anything. Or squeeze my hand, just something." He continued to do nothing. Neville put his head down onto the bed and placed his father's hand on top of his head. It was so painful, to Neville, to visit your mother and father in a hospital for so many years and them not recognizing you as there own son. Not to hear a word or so much as a mumble from them. He wanted to be a normal family; he wanted his parents' back. Yes, he did love his grandmother and appreciated her for taking into her home and taking care of him, but Neville needed a father figure. He wanted a man to show him how to fly on a broomstick, someone to go to Quidditch games with, and a person to talk to about girl problems at school.
His father's fingers scratched his Neville's head suddenly; Neville shot up as his father's fingers continued to rub his head. His eyes continued to stare straightforward towards the ceiling. A smile grew on Neville's face as he jumped forward and wrapped his arms around his father's strong neck.
"Come on, Neville. Time to go home," his mother called to him. Neville gave his father one last tight squeeze and whispered in his ear "Thank you." He let go and closed the curtains once again. The healers have continually said that there could be little improvement in his father and mother's recovery but Neville knew otherwise. All you need is hope.