Author's Note: I'm sad to say that I don't own Harry Potter. There are a few spoilers for the fifth book, but nothing if you've read past chapter twenty-three, "Christmas On The Closed Ward". This is my first time writing anything related to Harry Potter, I always thought I'd never join the trend of reading all the books and writing about them, but I finally got sucked in and obsessed over the summer. This is a one-shot about Neville Longbottom, a boy with a tragic tale and who is always shoved in the back. He's not one of the main characters, so you don't get too many details on him or his life, but I feel there's a lot more to him than what meets the eye. I think he has one of the saddest tales in the book, so I decided to give him some credit and suddenly found myself writing this about him. I brought myself to tears writing this T_T the poor guy, I just want to hug him. It's about Neville visiting his parents and his thoughts and feelings on them. Please enjoy and review!
The Lost Souls; Hear Me Cry
By: Lauren
Neville Longbottom sat still in his seat, staring down at the wrinkled face of his mother. His hands were trembling but he clenched them tight into fists, so hard that tiny half-moons appeared accented with a bit of crimson red blood. His skin had paled when he had entered the ward and he bit his bottom lip, finding himself left with no voice to speak with.
"Go on, Neville, say hello." His grandmother edged him forward, shoving him gently with her hand.
"Hi mum…dad…" He nodded down at the two figures before him, his parents smiling up at him in return. But the smiles were empty. Neville knew they weren't there. Even just looking into their eyes, he could see the dullness, the lack of the sparkle of life that had once fill them. "How are you both?" He asked while plastering on a fake smile, knowing he would gain no response. He looked down at the woman before him, her now white hair laying flat on her head, no longer wispy. It framed her thin and worn face where her eyes seemed to almost bulge out slightly. Looking across, Neville studied his father. His hair had also turned a shady color of gray and white and was thinning, his face looking sullen, his eyes sunken in and dead.
It was hard to believe these people were really his parents.
His grandmother began to talk to the two people. "Oh Alice, you won't believe the things that have happened at Hogwarts." She continued talking, relaying the events of the past year with the Triwizard Tournament and the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Neville ignored her words though, shuddering at the thought of Voldemort returning. His blood boiled with anger at the thought of that…that thing living…after all he had done. Without realizing it, Neville had already created deep cuts in his palms from clenching his fist so tight, causing a couple droplets of blood to fall to the floor. This went unnoticed of course, as his grandmother was already rambling on like she did every visit.
Thinking back to his childhood, Neville could vaguely remember a bit of his parents. It wasn't much, but it was at least something. Being a wizard, he could remember further back into his childhood than what a Muggle could. He remembered once, when he was a very young child, he had awoken from a horrible nightmare in where he had been left all alone in the world, everyone he knew dead and gone. He had sobbed uncontrollably, screaming into the night air, and his parents had rushed into the room, gathering him up in their arms. They had carried him into their bedroom, letting him snuggle under the covers between them, while his mother stroked his hair and whispered words of comfort into his ear. His father had wiped up his tears, telling his son he was a brave boy. He had blubbered on a bit more, muttering between cries, telling them to never leave him alone forever.
He distinctly remembered his mother wrapping her arms around him and hugging him tightly, promising him that they would never, ever leave him by himself, alone in the world.
"What happened to that promise then mum, dad? Why did you leave me?! WHY?!" Neville thought, releasing some of his anger by screaming at them inside his mind. Looking down at them, he wanted nothing more than for them to be okay, to turn back time and prevent what had happened to them. Of course, he knew that it was futile. He couldn't change the past. Sure, one could say that they hadn't left him, that they technically were still there, but that wasn't true. All that was left of them was a shell of their remains. Their personality, their emotions, their thoughts, everything was gone except for their bodies and a jumble of insane notions inside their head. They couldn't hold a conversation with Neville, not something like a normal boy and his father could. His father would never teach his son how to play Quidditch, tell him about how he and his mother met, laugh at old high school jokes. His mother would never baby her son again, coo about how much he had grown, tell him how proud she was of him and become defensive when he talked about bringing a girl home to meet.
Nothing was left of them. That wasn't really them inside their bodies. They were gone, forever, always; they would never be the same people that they once were.
And yet, as much as Neville told himself this, he couldn't help hoping.
What if there was some kind of miracle and spell to return his parents to sanity appeared?
He couldn't help thinking that maybe one day he would walk into St. Mungo's and instead of finding these husks of people sitting before him, he would find his mother standing there, smiling, young and full of life again. She would welcome him in with a hug and tell him how much she'd missed him. His father's vibrate laugh would fill the room again and he would pick up Neville and sit him on his lap, telling him about some new adventure he had gone on while being an Auror.
He knew it was only false hope. It was a stupid, pathetic dream that he couldn't help wishing would come true. And every single time he stepped into the ward and saw them sitting in their beds, his dream was shattered again and again, just like his heart.
One could even say that this fate was worse than death. If they had just been killed, at least Neville would know it was over. They both could rest peacefully and he would know his parents were gone to a better place and that would be the end of it. It would almost be like Harry Potter…he would be able to continue on with his life and gradually get over the trauma of losing them, accepting that they were gone, but still thinking of their memories fondly. But it wasn't like that. Instead, he was painfully reminded of their fate with every visit, and every thought of them.
His grandmother always told him he should be proud of them and Neville was, he was very proud of both of them. But he would rather still have them by his side than be proud of them. He would rather see his mother and father smile, their faces alight with joy, than the dull, lost people before him. He would rather be able to speak of his parents with happiness to other kids than to get an empty, cold feeling in his chest every time someone mentioned the words parents, mum, dad, Voldemort, Bellatrix Lestrange and Cruciatus Curse. Neville wanted nothing more than for Voldemort to die a million horrible deaths for every person he had harmed in some way or another. How such a twisted and cruel man could even exist was beyond him. He also wanted Bellatrix Lestrange to squirm with guilt every second of the day in Azkaban and experience the same pain his parents went through while she cursed them.
In a selfish way, he wished he could go back and stop them from joining the Order of the Phoenix. He wished he could stop them from becoming talented Aurors. If it meant saving their life, he would do it. He damned the Order for recruiting them, he damned Dumbledore for suggesting they become Aurors, he damned the Ministry for letting them become Aurors, he damned them for wanting to join the Order and willingly doing so, but if he traveled further down the list, he would probably end up damning the entire earth, including himself. In his heart, Neville knew it was no ones fault for what happened to them except Voldemort's and the Death Eaters. It was all one horrible web of fates that had been swirled together and this was the result. His parents wanted to fight Voldemort and they did just that. Because of them, thousands of lives might have been saved from death. They had done something honorable, something brave, something that made them heroes. In a way, they had exchanged their lives to help others. They knew losing their lives was a possibility, but they were willing to take that risk for the cause they were fighting for. Neville really was proud of what they had done. They were heroes to the world. Yet still, Neville wished this wasn't the price they had to pay.
"Neville dear, I'm going to grab a cup of tea from the hospital kitchen. You be a good boy and wait here with your parents, okay?" His grandmother brought Neville out of his thoughts by patting his shoulder. He nodded at her and watched her retreating back as she left the ward.
He was truly thankful to his grandmother who had willingly taken him in, took care of him and raised him yet there would always be an empty space in his heart reserved for his parents. There would always be an ache in his chest as he sat down at the dinner table, just the two of them. He could never tell his sorrow about his parents to his grandmother though, because she felt just as much pain about them as he did. That day she had also lost two special people; she had lost a son and a daughter-in-law. But their pain was shared between the two and they both took solace in each other's presence, even if they did deal with their loss in very different ways. Both knew that without the other, they would probably be aimless people wandering around in a bought of sorrow.
Looking down at his mother, Neville sniffed softly, unaware that hot tears drops had trailed down his cheeks. "Mum…I've made great new friends at Hogwarts ever since I went there. There's this pretty girl, she's really smart and nice, her name is Hermione Granger. I'm also pals with Ron Weasley, he's a funny guy and his sister Ginny is very nice also. I've told you about them before. I'm friends with Harry Potter, he's the one whose parents were killed but he survived. You probably wouldn't know about that though…I think it all happened after you were…well…you know…" Neville trailed off, his eyes unable to look directly into that of his mothers. Why was it so hard to even look at her? He couldn't stand the look of her dull eyes- to see the place were such sparkles of joy had existed once. "I'm really happy there…I truly am…" He sniffed again, choking slightly as a lump formed in his throat. He quickly wiped his eyes on his sleeve, as if to show he was happy, not crying. He tried to hold everything back but it was as if a dam had been broken. At first it had been a tiny leak, but now everything was spilling forth.
Clear, shining tears streamed from the corners of his eyes as he tried to stop them, but the water kept flowing and Neville instead bit down on his lip to stop it from trembling as his mouth formed a sort of grimace. If his grandmother walked in and saw him in this state…
He bent his head down, burying his face in his hands in a feeble attempt to stop the river of tears once more or to at least cover it up. He wanted nothing more than to turn back into the young child he once was, able to throw a fit, screaming and crying about how unfair the world was and to then curl up between the safety of his parents, having them comfort him, hold him, and tell him everything would be okay... But he wasn't a child anymore. If Neville looked like anything at the moment, he had the appearance of an old man who had been defeated.
Neville paused his crying for a moment though, as he felt a soft, gentle touch on his hair. Glancing up, he peered at his mother through the cracks in his fingers. She was reaching out and stroking his hair. She grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand down from his face. Opening his hand up, she placed the empty wrapper of a Droobles Blowing Gum in it, covering up the half-moon wounds he had inflicted upon himself. Gently, she closed his hand around the wrapper and gave him a pleased smiled. She then turned back to her husband, nudging his shoulder while he grunted and looked around the room wildly. His eyes landed on Neville and he grunted again before he closed his eyes and dozed off. Neville's mother leaned back down into the bed, her hand shaking involuntarily and her eyes darting about madly while she hummed.
"Here you go Neville." Suddenly, his grandmother was beside him, handing him a warm cup that smelled faintly of tea. "I'm going to say farewell to your parents while you drink that up, then we'll be leaving."
He took the cup, thankful for the warmth it was emitting into his cold and clammy hands, before he remembered the tears that had been streaking down his face only moments ago. Wiping at his cheeks absently, he tried to act as if nothing had been happening. He could hear his grandmother telling his parents that she loved him, that they would be returning soon and Neville would visit on his next vacation and things of that sort. His grandmother turned to him, motioning for him to say good-bye.
Neville nodded, walking up to his parents' bedside once again. "Farewell mum and dad…I'll see you again soon…take care…I love you…and…I miss you…" He said the last three words in a whisper before he turned to his grandmother. She placed a comforting arm around him and the two of them began their trudge out of the ward, both of them leaning on each other for silent support. Neville cast his parents a caring sidelong glance as they turned around the corner, his hand in his pocket, fingering the old wrapper that he would soon be adding to his large collection.
Walking out into the fresh, cool air of the city, Neville inhaled deeply, letting it cleanse him inside and out. A faint smile formed on his lips as he thought about his return to Hogwarts and seeing his friends again. He also looked forward to the upcoming D.A. meetings, where he could learn more spells to fight Voldemort and the Death Eaters with. Even if what he was doing seemed insignificant, at least it was something. He would fight the evil being that had done this to his parents and he would stop him from hurting others, just as his parents had done. He would end this cycle of pain for them and hopefully then, they could all rest peacefully.
Suddenly, Neville seemed to feel much lighter, as if a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders as a thought entered his mind. Even though the empty bodies of his parents' remained at Mungo's, he knew they would still travel with him back to Hogwarts, both of them living on inside their son's heart.