A/N:

All right... this story is about Neville Longbottom. It's how it
is whenever he visits his parents at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical
Maladies and Injuries. You hear about it in Book 4 (Harry Potter and the
Goblet of Fire) on page 603. I suppose that it was such a shock to me that
I wanted to write down how it must be for Neville. And this is the outcome.

Spoilers in here!

My 2nd attempt on a Harry Potter fic.

Disclaimer: I do not own no characters that have been read or heard
in J.K. Rowlings Harry Potter Series. I do, however, own this story.
Copyright 2000

Please r/r!

*~*~*

"The past lies like a nightmare upon the present."
-Karl Marx, The 18th Brumaire of
Louis Bonaparte

*~*~*


The Cruciatus Curse
by Iris Marie


Christmas was in the air. The tree was sparkling with the fairy's
glow, underneath it were the presents that were just waiting to be opened.
Neville Longbottom was staring towards it, his back tense as he waited for
his grandmother to come down the stairs. It was a ritual every year. On
Christmas Day he was to go to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and
Injuries. To go inside the building, go up the elevator, enter a room which
housed his father and mother. His father and mother who didn't even know he
was alive. Who didn't even know he was their son.

"Neville! Sweety!" he heard as a hand landed on his shoulder. He had
an urge to wrench away, to run out of the house back to Hogwarts. At least there
no one knew about it. At least there no one forced him to look into the eyes of
two people who his heart reached for, but a heart that was only to be dismissed.

His grandmother was staring at him, her hand gripping his shoulder harder.
Even at her old age, she was strong enough to handle such a boy like Neville
Longbottom. He was her nephew, and if she died, he would be forced as an orphan.
Neville looked towards her, his lips in a forced smile. "Yes, granny?"

"Come now, dear... you don't want to keep them waiting, do you?"

'Like they even care,' he thought, but he wouldn't dare say it aloud.
He loved his grandmother; loved her for being able to keep up with him. With
Snape scaring him out of his wits every year; having Voldemort coming to attack
the school. And only last year, when he was in his fourth year, did Cedric
Diggory die!

He gave his grandmother another smile as he took some Floo Powder,
threw it into the flames, walked in and cried out, "St. Mungo's Hospital for
Magical Maladies and Injuries!" He then found himself in a white room, a
nurse standing there, a quill writing by itself on her clipboard. Once his
grandmother appeared behind him did she began to speak.

"Mrs. Longbottom!" the nurse ran towards them, her eyes wide as she
looked around. She glanced towards Neville, and her smile seemed to become
more fake. "May I please speak to you... in private?"

His grandmother got him to sit on one of the armchairs and he waited
there patiently, somehow guessing what has happened. It usually did, of course.
His father would be making a riot, screaming stuff like, "How dare you think
that I shall tell you where you're blasted master is!" Of course, it would
have a lot of obscenities added to it, but that was the basic message. And,
his mother... Neville trailed off, his heart giving a painful clang. His
mother would be on the floor, crying, screaming for it all to stop. Screaming
that it hurt too much, but also screaming for the bastards to die. He glanced
towards his hands and saw them shaking.

His grandmother came back, and her face was pale. She seemed to be
debating whether to turn back and come back another time, but she shook her
head as she lead him down the corridor and up the elevator.

"Neville..." her face looked as old and as strained as ever, her voice
even quavering as she said his name. "Your father and mother-"

"It's okay, grandma," he interrupted quickly. "I understand."

She placed her hand back upon his shoulder and she was smiling grimly.
"No wonder you were placed into Gryffinder. Whether you know it or not, you
have your father in you," she said it warmly, but it was more like a sting
then anything comforting.

'I'm like a man who can't even recognize his own son?' Neville thought,
but instantly felt ashamed. His father, Frank Longbottom, was an Auror. A
respected one and one of the best. He went insane, with his wife, after being
placed under the Cruciatus Curse by Death Eaters. They wanted to know where
their master was. However, as people have been telling him as he grew, his
parents would not speak, going through every inch of the pain till they were
deprived of sanity.

"FRANK!" he heard a scream echo through the hall and Neville flinched
once more, wanting more then ever to run out of the building, or to go deaf.
His mother was screaming as they heard things falling on the floor.

"I will never tell you you fucking bastards!" he heard his father
scream. Two wizards were trying to restrain him by putting a Full Body-Bind
Spell to keep him from fighting them off. Ropes were appearing from the sides
of the bed, circling around his father to keep him down.

And then he screamed.

Neville felt a scream crawling it's way out of his own throat; wanting
to join along with his father's anguished one. He could just see what might be
going through his father's mind. Four death eater's were surrounding the Auror
that they have caught, each one screaming, "Crucio."

As if snapping back into reality, he saw that his mother was a small
heap in the corner, eyeing the 2 wizards that were trying to keep him down.
His grandmother had pushed the wizards away and calmly placed her hand
upon his father's forehead. She was hushing, humming soft tunes underneath
her breath. A large whimper was heard in the corner and Neville looked
towards his mother who looked close to fainting.

He walked towards her cautiously, his eyes now burning. He wanted
to run to her and fling himself in her arms. Wanted her to stroke his hair,
kiss him, proclaim that she loved her darling son. The same way that his
grandmother did. But, it would not be the same as his mother. It would
never be the same.

Neville fought down the urge and collapsed to his knees as he
was a few feet away from her. His legs no longer supported his weight,
the sight of his mom like this hurting him more then words could express.

"Mommy?" he asked hoarsely, closing his eyes, wishing to hear
her respond with a soft voice. Wishing to hear her say, "Yes darling," or
something other then what she would usually yell.

"Get AWAY FROM ME!" she screamed, scrambling to her feet, her eyes
wide and frightened. "I'm telling you that I don't know where he is! I swear
to you that I don't!"

"Mom-"

"Please, let my husband and me free! Please!" she was on her knees
again, her forehead touching the ground, her slim shoulders shaking as sobs
were spilling forth. "It hurts too much... please... it hurts too much..."

"Mommy!" Neville cried out, his cheeks now wet at the reaction he caused.
"I'm Neville, Mommy. I'm your son!"

She was still crying, her head banging slightly against the floor. "Please
don't hurt us anymore... we don't know where he is... we don't!"

Neville tentatively reached out his hand to touch his mother's hand that
had laid itself in front of him. When their skin touched, she began to scream.
Neville began to sob, watching as wizards ran into the room and forced
her upon the bed. As straps were soon over her body, trying to keep
her down, trying to stop her from screaming louder. Neville now had
his legs drawn tight unto his chin, his head in-between his folded arms.
He was rocking back and forth as the screams continued, as if she was under
another Cruciatus Curse.... just because he touched her... just because
he needed to feel her hand.

Instead, he rocked back and forth, his head buried in his
arms, his legs drawn unto his chest. He cried, cried the whole time
his mother was screaming and even when she stopped when the wizards
forced some potion in her mouth. Cried when she just laid upon her bed,
her eyes open but unseeing, her mouth agape as if to scream some more,
but couldn't.

"Neville," it was his grandmother, her old hand holding his to
lead him out of the room. He closed his eyes as he remembered the slight
touch of his mother's skin on his hand, and how he wished that he was
holding hers instead. Like a son would do with his mother. But, he didn't
have one. He looked towards her again, wanting to run up to her and fling
his arm around her.... just to know how it would feel to hug her... just to
know how it would feel if she ever hugged him back. But, no. He bit his lower
lip as more tears fell. "Come on, Neville, let's go."


The End


So? Good or bad? I wrote this in like half an hour, but only because
I had a huge inspirational burst. I really love Neville, he's one of my fave
characters in the series. Well, please review!

(c) Iris Marie Copyright 2000