Author's Note:

I took many liberties with the details of the story, seeing as it was vague on the part of Neville and his grandmother. This is Chapter 23 (Christmas on the Closed Ward; OOTP) but in Neville's point of view. The unnamed Healer is named Miriam Strout, which I found out with a little research. Hopefully I've gotten most of the details (Chapter 23 was my biggest reference!) but if I've made a mistake, please let me know. Some of the quotes are from the chapter directly, which belong to J.K. Rowling of course!

Happy Birthday, Neville! (7/30)

Loligo7687

Author's Note (5/14/11):

Edited for spelling and grammar in Word. Nothing major changed. Book quotes and paraphrasing still remain in story.

(: ~Lucy

(6/8/12):

Added the story image on this day. Edited in Photoshop by moi.

~Lucy

Classes were over since the end of December had rolled around, dismissing students from the grounds to visit their families during this Christmas season. Some chose to stay at the castle but Neville Longbottom actually envied those who remained. It wasn't that he didn't want to spend the holidays with his grandmother (well, she was intimidating and scary at times), it was more the fact that he spent most of his break at St. Mungo's.

It was an annual tradition to visit his parents on the fourth floor - namely Spell Damage. Neville just shivered at the mention of it, knowing that all patients destined for this floor were seriously injured. Whether it physical or mental damage, Neville was well-acquainted with the sights. Former Professor Lockhart always insisted that he give him an autograph. His nurse was somewhat oblivious, so he had a stack of signed photos in his grandmother's kitchen.

Today was no different. No matter how many times Neville visited, Lockhart always found a way out of the closed ward and always forgot his face. Well, it was certainly acceptable since Ron had told a select few Gryffindors of the mishap. He was less than sympathetic toward the man who had tried to erase Harry's memories.

Neville's grandmother had let Neville meander around the corridors until he was ready to visit his parents. Finally reaching the fourth floor, he had turned the corner where Lockhart had been roaming freely. His white teeth appeared as he corralled Neville against a wall.

"Hello, Professor Lockhart!" Neville said cheerfully, glancing toward the closed ward.

"Why hello! I'm sure you're in need of an autograph! Just a second, please," replied Lockhart. A picture and a tattered quill emerged from his jacket as quick as lightning and his signature flowed freely from the quill. If there was one thing he'd expect Lockhart to remember, it would be signing autographs whether he remembered his name or not.

"Here you go, my boy! Don't lose it, now!" he said, spotting another potential fan.

"Thank you, Professor Lockhart," Neville replied, eagerly hurrying away with the photo. At least it was a picture of the wizard this time…

Neville's destination was the closed ward a little further down the corridor. A Healer would open the door on his request because they all were acquainted with him since he had been little, besides the fact that the door was closed all the time. He'd then converse with the Healer at the door until a patient required assistance.

"Visiting the parents today with your grandmother, Neville?" she asked, opening the door for him. He nodded as he passed through the threshold.

"The annual Christmas holiday visit, Ms. Strout. Plenty of gifts this year," Neville replied, lifting the bag in his hand for emphasis.

"How lovely, dear," said the Healer, glancing nervously toward an empty bed.

"If you're looking for Professor Lockhart, well, I'm afraid he's wandered off again," he added, providing relief to the woman.

"Thank you, Neville! Happy Christmas! Oh, Gilderoy!"

The Healer left in a great hurry to find the wandering Lockhart, leaving Neville to find his parents and grandmother. The patients to the left and right of him were both new and old. Most of them would remain here until their memories returned. Else, they would live out the rest of their days in this miserable place. He couldn't help but shutter at the 'Permanent Residency' sign that decorated the front door of the closed ward.

Neville soon spotted his grandmother, who was already settled and simply waiting for him. She took the bag from his hand and smiled.

"How wonderful, Neville!" Gran commented, tracing the letters embossed on the cover of the album she was now holding. "Look Alice, look what your son made for you!"

Neville had in the meantime gone to say hello to his father. It was always a simple greeting and a wave. His father always smiled back. He could spot a small glimmer of recognition in his parents' eyes, although Neville wasn't so sure how many memories had been removed. The moment passed quickly though and he doubted that he had really seen it, the ghost of remembering their son. It was probably brought on by the tremendous hope Neville had. They hadn't seen him grow up since their torture, but his features had never strayed far from that of his parents.

What was the reason that Frank and Alice Longbottom resided in St. Mungo's? Fighting for what they had believed was right. They had also sacrificed a lot to try to make the Wizarding World a much better place for their son. Bellatrix Lestrange, an infamous Death Eater, had tortured Neville's parents into insanity with the Cruciatus Curse. It was a fate worse than death for defying the Dark Lord; it had a lasting effect on Neville as well. His Gran always swelled with pride, for she had been proud of them, especially of their sacrifice. Who wouldn't be proud? They were brave and courageous members of the Order of the Phoenix, the group dedicated to fighting You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters. There was a reason why Gryffindor was his chosen House. He had inherited the traits from his parents and Neville couldn't be happier.

Sitting on a chair near the two beds, Neville watched as his Gran gushed to his mother about the photo album he had assembled for their Christmas gift. Though strange, Neville felt appreciated for once by his grandmother. Neville had used, with permission, photos from his childhood and others of his parents before Bellatrix. The pictures were ordered by age until the beginning of this school year, his fifth year at Hogwarts. Even if his parents couldn't understand (since the torture had altered much more than memories), it was still a nice gesture he thought. Maybe it could jog memories, but it was very unlikely. It was again hope that kept him from feeling too sad.

Gran turned the pages, describing to his mother what each picture held. Again, the recognition seemed prevalent in her sullen eyes, but alas it truly wasn't. The once beautiful mother in the earlier photos now had wispy, brittle-like hair that lost its brilliant color. Her figure was frail and skinny, her lips were cracked and dry, and her eyes were dull. Even with the flaws, Neville could say, without a doubt, that she was still beautiful. His father looked no different, sharing the same characteristics as his mother since spending their lives at the closed ward. Gran moved to Frank's bed, giving him the same narration as Alice. Neville's mother mumbled and patted the bedside beside her. He obliged and sat near her frail figure.

Her bony hand reached as far as his arm, rubbing it very gently. It gave Neville a certain comfort. A comfort he couldn't find with friends; it lay solely with his mother. She suddenly reached for her side table, clasping a small wrapper. Forcing it into his palm, she smiled automatically. He had to as well; his mother's smile was contagious. Making sure his Gran wasn't looking, Neville tucked the wrapper into his pants pocket. His Gran always reminded him that he had enough of them to cover his bedroom wall, but Neville kept every single one. It was special to him, even if it meant nothing to her.

Neville returned to his chair as Gran continued to pull gifts from the bag. Flowers were placed next to both side tables to liven the seemingly drab space. As Gran continued to speak, Neville's eyes drifted toward the ceiling and out the window. It had been a successful holiday so far, but Neville was certainly ready to leave St. Mungo's. A depressing atmosphere indeed; it was only about to get sadder.

Gran decided to wrap up their visit, giving the last gift and calling over the Healer to discuss a few things. The Healer must have thought they had been leaving already, considering her surprised tone.

"Mrs. Longbottom? Anything else I can do for you?" she asked, looking up from her current task. It was the beginning of a forming snowball effect.

"Actually, I need a few words about their condition," Gran replied, pulling the Healer aside to discuss matters. Neville watched as his mother slowly heaved her body up and proceeded to walk down the ward. He had no idea where she was going, but she must have had a good reason for doing so. Gran, in the meantime, had finished her conversation with the Healer and turned her attention to Neville.

"Come along, Neville," said Gran. "Say goodbye to your parents, now."

Neville bid farewell to his father, but his mother was still off wandering around the closed ward. Ducking behind his grandmother, the same Healer was still surprised at the short visit on Christmas Day.

"And - oh, Mrs. Longbottom, are you leaving already?" she asked. Gran nodded, making sure that her grandson was following behind her.

"We'll probably be back tomorrow to visit, since Neville is on holiday this week," she replied, as the stuffed vulture on her hat shook violently from her nodding. Neville wanted to say goodbye to his mother, but since she had not returned, a depressed looking countenance crossed his features.

"Neville!"

He could have fainted at that moment. Someone was shouting his name! It was embarrassing, considering that none of his peers knew. The voice was young yet familiar, like a fellow Gryffindor. Jumping out of surprise, Neville decided to cower behind his grandmother to place him out of sight. That was difficult, considering how tall he had grown this year.

"It's us, Neville! Have you seen? Lockhart's here! Who've you been visiting?"

It was Ron Weasley. He was joined by Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and worse of all, Ginny Weasley. He was far too embarrassed and looked elsewhere - anywhere but at their faces. If anything worse could happen, it did. His grandmother headed straight for them.

"Friends of yours, Neville, dear?" asked his grandmother, although it had been implied so.

Neville hadn't listened to any of the introductions, seeing as he wished nothing more than to leave. Adding discomfort to the situation, how on earth did the four get to the closed ward? It was complete madness how the three always found ways into things. Even Ginny was here! Madness!

"Is that your dad down the end, Neville?" Ron asked, looking amazed.

Neville knew it was coming now. No witch or wizard that went by Gran went without knowing the story of his parents' sacrifices. She was truly proud of them; of Neville she was not. A stern look crossed her face before she questioned him.

"What's this?" said Mrs. Longbottom sharply. "Haven't you told your friends about your parents, Neville?"

Neville inhaled deeply, knowing that his Gran would scold him later. She didn't understand that he wouldn't tell others because there was only a 'need-to-know' basis, not that he was ashamed. Far from it. Also, it didn't help that he got embarrassed easily. Draco Malfoy had struck more than one nerve before, and Neville was slowly gaining the confidence to stick up for himself. Then again, explaining why his parents were in St. Mungo's wasn't light conversation.

Neville's eyes drifted to the ceiling, avoiding eye contact at all costs. Confirming the negative answer to his grandmother, a shake of his head confirmed it.

"Well, it's nothing to be ashamed of!" said Mrs. Longbottom angrily. "You should be proud, Neville, proud! They didn't give their health and their sanity so their only son would be ashamed of them, you know!"

He was surprised at the faintness of his own tone. It was probably because his Gran scared him with her own angry tone of voice.

"I'm not ashamed," said Neville.

"Well, you've got a funny way of showing it!" said Mrs. Longbottom. Anything else she might have said went unnoticed by him. A snap back into reality only occurred when he heard his Gran said his mother's name. Perking up immediately, Neville saw her motion timidly toward him. Stretching his hand out automatically, Neville recognized the familiar wrapper he received earlier: a Droobles Blowing Gum wrapper.

Even before his Gran suggested it ("Neville, take it, whatever it is…"), his mother dropped the wrapper into his outstretched hand. "Thanks, Mum," he said quietly, and his mother seemed quite satisfied. Humming to herself as she resumed wandering around the ward, Neville finally surged with courage to meet each of their eyes. A defiant countenance crossed his face, in hopes of warding off the inevitable: laughter.

Gran pulled out her long green gloves, meaning she was completely set to leave. Though the visit was short, Neville knew they'd most likely return tomorrow.

"Very nice to have met you all. Neville, put that wrapper in the bin, she must have given you enough of them to paper your bedroom by now…"

He waited until she turned to tuck the wrapper into his pants pocket, to join the other from earlier. Neville kept each and every one because even if Gran didn't appreciate it, he did. It was special to him and that was all that mattered.

The door closed behind them and his fellow Gryffindors were left standing in the closed ward.

"I'm not ashamed, Gran. I love my parents very much," said Neville firmly, walking beside his grandmother. "Some people cope with thing in many different ways."

Cope might be the right word. Neville had been too young to understand, but what could describe the way he grew up without his parents? He had to cope with that.

"Well, I suppose, Neville," she replied, slightly taken aback at his response. "You don't see Harry hiding his emotions about his parents, do you?"

The comparison. It didn't make sense to compare two situations that seemed to be related, but in a larger aspect seemed irrelevant. Harry was proud but his parents were dead. It seemed hardly fair at all to compare.

"I'm not ashamed, Gran," he repeated, for emphasis. "I will always be proud of them, no matter what. They were brave and loyal to the Order. Bellatrix had better watch herself."

His Gran had nodded and scoffed at his Bellatrix comment. Not impossible, no, but highly unlikely that she'd cower at the sight of Neville.

Neville felt empowered, however. He knew he was going to be ready to fight when it came time. As a brave Gryffindor he would fight for good, just like his parents. Neville Longbottom would fight for the past, present, and future of the Wizarding World alongside Harry. Though the thought of killing sent shivers down his spine, it would be necessary. He'd be ready. Not now, but soon. Watch out, Bellatrix. Payback's a bitch.