DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters, places, or objects in this story. Large excerpts of this story are taken from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Chapter 23: Christmas on the Closed Ward.
Christmas Visits and Revelations
PeachyKeen414
"Up, Neville," came the demanding voice of Neville's grandmother – not his favorite thing to hear in the morning. "Come now. We don't have time for this foolishness. I told the nurse we would be there promptly at eleven, but it is already quarter after."
Neville jumped out of bed, remembering that it was the day that he would be able to see his parents in the hospital. It had been a long time since his last visit. Four months at the least. But sadly they had probably never noticed.
Neville felt the tears coming to his eyes as they always did when he thought about his parents and their mental state.
He had only been a year and a half years old when his parents had been tortured into insanity. They had been snatched from his life and thrown into a hospital before he could even speak a phrase. He had then been shipped off to live with his grandmother in a strict, no tolerance atmosphere. And now he was fifteen, but still being constantly reminded of how much of a disapproving failure he was.
When he had come to Hogwarts, he had thought all the kids would know about his parents. If anyone had known, they hadn't cared because everyone, even the teachers, gave their full attention to Harry Potter. But he hadn't cared. He never wanted the spotlight.
Neville threw on his robes and stumbled down the stairs in haste to meet his grandmother. She was standing ramrod straight in the front hall and was peering out of the frosted windows.
"Good, good, they're here on time," she spoke loudly as the triple-decker Knight Bus sped into sight. She picked up her clutch and took hold of Neville's elbow, leading him onto the purple bus.
They were greeted joyously by the two drivers, who immediately tried to engage them in a long, but pointless conversation. His grandmother, however, shook them off and dragged Neville to find seats.
"Matinda and Vernell! She squealed as she saw two of her friends sewing in a corner. "It really has been too long! Come, Neville," she ordered him, pointing at a vinyl armchair with chipped paint.
Neville hated taking orders from her, but seeing as he had no choice, he obeyed. The group of women continued to chat, completely ignoring him, but Neville didn't mind. He contented himself to watching houses, farms, and factories fly by until the bus abruptly came to a halt.
"Executive Parking for St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical maladies and Injuries. Enter through the Special Visitors Entrance," a dewy female voice came over the loud speaker. Before Neville could move, his grandmother grabbed his wrist and yanked him off the bus.
"Good, good. The Special Visitors Entrance is much more convenient. No talking to ugly dummies," she grumbled to herself.
The hospital was extremely busy as they entered through the special entrance. The harassed healers were scurrying to and from rooms, trying to appease the visitors who were demanding special treatment for certain patients. His grandmother didn't let go of his arm, and he was sure he was beginning to lose all feeling in it.
"Floor four as always," she snapped as if Neville was going to go to the wrong floor. Neville rolled his eyes and tried to remind himself that she was under a lot of stress.
The four flights of stairs seemed like eternity to Neville, who was eagerly anticipating his meeting with his parents. Finally they made it to the fourth floor, and his grandmother threw open the door recklessly.
"Oh, Mrs. Longbottom! And Neville of course! I was beginning to wonder if you were even going to show," Carmilla Richards, the Healer in charge of the unit, said beamingly.
"Well, we're here. Just take care of your other patients," Neville's grandmother reprimanded her after watching Gilderoy Lockhart inch sneakily towards the door.
"Oh, you bad boy, Gilderoy. Get back here and finish your lunch," Carmilla scolded him.
Neville walked with his grandmother to the two beds at the end with the curtains drawn around them. Neville inhaled slightly before entering, his grandmother right behind him.
"Frank, dear, how are you?" she asked with a motherly tone.
Neville's father looked at her with wide eyes before muttering incoherently. His grandmother's smile faded slightly, but she didn't give up.
"I brought Neville with me today. Your son," she reminded him gently, but Frank gave no signs of understanding. He blankly looked at Neville as if he hadn't seen him before. He closed his eyes and held his head in his hands before putting his head on the pillow behind him.
"Perhaps he's trying to remember something," his grandmother said hopefully.
"Hi, mum," Neville said to his mother who was sitting on the bed and humming to herself. Neville sat down on the bed next to her and held her hand in his. She gave him a frightened look before pulling her hand out of his.
"Who-you-but-because-heard…me-me-when-help…no-help-you," she mumbled, breathing quickly, but then held his hand again. His grandmother gave him a stern look.
"Say goodbye, Neville. I told Algie we would meet him in time for tea. We must go," she said, smoothing her long green dress and fox fur, looking as if the visit had gone quite well. "Come along."
"Already?" Neville asked hoarsely.
"Of course. You didn't expect us to stay much longer, did you?" she raised her eyebrows in disbelief.
"No, we can go. I'm ready," Neville lied, and he pulled his hand away. He was beginning to feel depressed even though it was Christmas.
His grandmother pulled back the curtain from the beds, and they left his parents lying on the bed, completely alone except with each other's insane company.
Carmilla Richards was handing out the Christmas presents to the other patients in the ward, but when she noticed them leaving she said, "Oh, Mrs. Longbottom, are you leaving already?"
"Yes, Carmilla," she answered simply. Neville nodded in agreement.
"Neville!"
Neville jumped in spite of himself as he heard a voice yell his name. He turned and saw that Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were there, talking to Lockhart.
"It's us, Neville!" Ron said brightly, getting to his feet. "Have you seen? Lockhart's here! Who've you been visiting?"
"Friends of yours, Neville, dear?" said Neville's grandmother graciously, bearing down upon them all, clearly in a better mood than she had been a few minutes ago.
Neville felt himself flush as he began to wish a hole would open up and swallow him. He made sure to not make eye contact with any of them, wishing that they would go away if he didn't acknowledge them.
"Ah, yes," his grandmother said, looking closely at Harry and sticking out a shriveled, clawlike hand for him to shake. "Yes, yes, I know who you are, of course. Neville speaks most highly of you."
"Er – thanks," said Harry, shaking hands. Neville could feel Harry's gaze on him, and he continued to look as his feet, feeling his face growing redder.
"And you two are clearly Weasleys," she continued, extending her hand regally to Ron and Ginny in turn. "Yes, I know your parents – not well, of course – but fine people, fine people…and you must be Hermione Granger?"
Hermione seemed to be startled that she knew her name, for she didn't reply, but she shook hands all the same.
"Yes, Neville's told me all about you. Helped him out of a few sticky spots, haven't you?" his grandmother continued, and he prayed that she wouldn't say anything else that he had told her. She cast a sternly appraising look down her rather bony nose at Neville. "He's a good boy, but he hasn't got his father's talent, I'm afraid to say…." She said as if Neville wasn't even there. She jerked her head in the direction of the two beds at the end of the ward, so that the stuffed vulture on her hat trembled alarmingly.
"What?" said Ron, totally amazed. "Is that your dad down the end, Neville?" Neville wanted to disappear. Nobody had known about his parents for a long time, and he had preferred it that way. He didn't need the sympathy, the special treatment, or the concern that they would give him if they knew. He had only wanted to be a normal kid. He knew his grandmother would never be able to understand that.
"What's this?" his grandmother said to him sharply. "Haven't you told your friends about your parents, Neville?"
Neville took a deep breath, looked up at the ceiling, and shook his head, and he could feel the tears at the corner of his eyes.
"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!"
"I'm not ashamed," Neville responded truthfully, but very faintly, still looking anywhere but at Harry and the others. Neville was faintly aware of Ron standing on his tiptoe to look over at the inhabitants of the two beds.
"Well, you've got a funny way of showing it!" his grandmother said. "My son and his wife," she said, turning haughtily to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, despite his mental pleadings, "were tortured into insanity by You-Know-Who's followers."
Hermione and Ginny clapped their hands over their mouth and Ron stopped trying to see the two end beds, completely mortified.
"They were Aurors, you know, and very well respected within the Wizarding community," she went on. "Highly gifted, the pair of them. I – yes, Alice dear, what is it?"
His mother had come edging down the ward in her blue nightdress. She didn't say anything to them, but she made timid motions towards him, holding something in her outstretched hand.
"Again?" said Mrs. Longbottom, Neville was amazed to hear the weariness in his grandmother's voice. "Very well, Alice dear, very well – Neville, take it, whatever it is…." He had already outstretched his hand, receiving the empty Droobles Blowing Gum wrapper that she had given him.
"Very nice, dear," said his grandmother in a falsely cheery voice, patting his mother on the shoulder.
"Thanks, mom," he said quietly to her as she tottered away, back up the ward, humming to herself the same tune that she was humming before. Neville turned to look at the four of them again, almost daring them to laugh, though he saw Harry's face. He knew Harry understood a little bit about what it was like. Harry looked as if he had never seen anything less funny.
"Well, we'd better get back," sighed his grandmother, breaking the awkward pause as she pulled on her long green gloves. "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…."
Neville ignored his grandmother and slipped the paper into his pocket when he thought no one else was looking, and the door closed behind them, shielding them from the horrified gaze of four of his closest friends.
"I'm not ashamed, grandmum," Neville said quietly. His grandmother gave him a small glance before responding.
"I find it hard to believe that a person that is unashamed of his parents would not tell his friends about the truth," she said simply.
"I am proud of my parents, but I do not need special attention because my parents did a noble act," Neville lashed back, surprising himself with his aggressiveness.
"I know. Your parents would be proud of you too. Come, Neville. Let's enjoy our Christmas together," she gave him an approving smile.
Neville brushed away the tear that had formed before putting on a smile for the world to see.
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Thanks so much,
PeachyKeen414