A/N – This is short story which starts about a year after Harry, Hermione and Ron saw Neville at St Mungo's during OOTP. Only one of the healers is in the book (Miriam Strout the older healer mentioned in this chapter). (Note - I edited the story when it was pointed out to me that the older healer was named in the book so I used that name rather than the name I had made up.) The younger healer is an OC from another of my FF – A Prince among Men (blatant self-promotion!) - but you don't need to read it for this story to make sense.
Quick note on the meaning of the title – it is "lives" as in the plural of life, not as third person singular from the verb "to live"
A tall handsome woman, with sleek black hair and dark but heavily eyes shot curse after curse at Alice. The woman spoke in a coaxing voice "You can make it stop, Alice, just tell me everything you know about the Order of the Phoenix. Who are they? Where do they meet? How can I find them?"
Her tone changed, became aggressive and with each phrase she threw another curse at Alice. "Tell me and the pain will stop! Tell me and it will all be over! Tell me so I can please My Lord, for I am his most loyal servant. TELL ME!" Alice felt her body stiffen and arch in pain, every muscle contracted to a hard ball. She only had to speak, she only had to say a few words and it would end. She could go home to her baby - to Neville. The pain eased off and Alice slumped to the ground, limp and unmoving. Even through her pain she wondered why the woman didn't use Veritaserum to find the answers to her questions - that is what an auror would do. The woman was circling around Alice's inert body, her fanaticism clear on her features and to Alice's horror she also saw enjoyment in the woman's face. With absolute certainty Alice knew that whatever she said, it would not be enough, the woman was not interested in the answers to her questions but only in the power she had to cause agony. Alice vowed she would not speak to this woman and she would keep her baby safe. This devil woman and her Dark Lord would never discover where he was. The woman must have seen the resolution in Alice for she screamed in frustration and fired the strongest Cruciatus Curse she was capable of creating. It hit Alice on the chest and she felt as if her body were burning in the flames of hell, she felt as if she were being cut by a thousand knives, she had no voice left to scream with and she would never, never betray her baby to the Dark Lord. As the devil woman slowly traced the curse over Alice she saw a blankness come into Alice's eyes and knew she would get no more fun from this one.
-oOo-
At the far end of the ward on the fourth floor of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Alice haltingly swung her legs off the bed she had been laying on and walked sedately and purposefully towards the window. She moved the curtain that was obscuring her view from the bed, looked through the glass and stared at the rendered wall of the building opposite. Once, (how long ago she couldn't be certain because time here blurred into units she couldn't measure), the wall had been blank, a dirty white canvas waiting to be brought to life with colour and action, but now it was alive. A moving picture was projected onto the wall turning it from a dead space to a vibrant living thing. Today it was a seascape. Alice stood still and watched the waves crashing on the sandy beach, the white foam soaking into the sand and the water being sucked away to return to the sea. The silent action was hypnotic and stirred within her some memories of the sounds and smells that should go with the image on the wall.
Alice turned her body with care and fixed her attention on the man in the bed next to hers. Like her, his hair had turned prematurely grey. Like her, his face was thin and worn but the difference was in the eyes. His were often vacant and stared into a distance that no one else could see. The only time a light shone in them was when he looked at Alice or at a round faced boy who visited regularly. Alice was drawn to the man, bound to him in a way that felt natural and right, he made her feel safe and he shared her nightmares. She alternated her attention between the man and the image of the sea on the wall.
Slowly and unbidden a memory stirred in a hidden part of her mind. A man and a woman walking side by side in the surf, the water swirling softly over their feet. She could hear the sound of the waves breaking gently on the shore, the salty tang of the sea stung her lips. She could feel the rough sand over her bare feet; when she stood still the sand was washed away from underneath and her feet slowly sank, if she wriggled her toes she sank more quickly. She remembered a strong hand reaching out and pulling her gently but firmly from the grip of the sand, her feet came loose with a soft rasping sound. The water and sand rushed back in to fill the space she had made as if she had never stood there. The memory hit her like a fist and she said aloud, "Frank."
The man in the bed reacted to the sound of his name and looked up. It was the first time in 14 years that he had heard his name spoken from the mouth of his wife.
A motherly looking healer in lime green robes rushed over from the other end of the ward and asked, "Alice, dear, did you speak?"
Alice slowly walked the few steps to the bed, she reached out and gripped the man's hand. "Frank." she repeated.
The healer gasped and smiled broadly saying, "Yes Alice, this is Frank."
Frank's face took on a tender expression and he returned the pressure of Alice's hold on his hand. The couple remained motionless, momentarily lost in a world that contained only two people.
The healer left and returned with a colleague, a younger woman with light brown hair and green eyes. The older healer explained in a hushed whisper that Alice had spoken. "That's the first change we've seen in her since you were here last year," she said excitedly.
Keeping hold of Frank's hand, Alice looked out of the window and back to Frank.
The younger healer observed her actions and how Alice watched the play of the beach scene on the wall opposite. She pointed it out to her colleague saying, "Miriam, whose ever idea it was to use that wall for displaying art has done a good service today." She paused before continuing, "I've often said that the occupants of this ward need stimulation and activity to help them heal. You can't keep them sedated and wrapped in cotton wool no matter how well meaning. You must let them confront their nightmares and fears and you need to be ready to guide them through the process - that is the way to help them heal."
"It is a cruel muggle way," replied Miriam, "You know that Alice and Frank have nightmares which were inflicted by repeated use of the Cruciatus Curse - nightmares that would terrify any one. It is a kindness to make them forget."
"But not by the use of sedative potions, memory charms and imprisoning them in this room," the younger healer protested.
"They are not imprisoned!" exclaimed Miriam. "How would they cope outside of these walls, on their own? We care for them; we protect them; we keep them away from prying eyes and people who would take advantage."
"I know, Miriam. I know that you wizard healers do these things out of compassion," came the placating reply, "But there must be a way to reach them and make them the people they once were."
"They will never be the people they once were," Miriam said sadly, "They showed incredible strength to even survive the torture they were subjected to. They are war heroes, they deserve our admiration."
The words of the healers flowed over and around Alice, the sounds of their voices made patterns in her brain but they were absorbed with the other noises in her mind like the foam of the surf as it returned to sea, indistinguishable from the ocean from which they had been formed. The older healer was a stable fixture in Alice's existence, like Frank and the old woman and boy who came to visit. Miriam had always been here in this room with them whilst the younger healers came and went like mayflies, flitting about for a short time and touching nothing except their own lives. But not this current one, she was different - she gave off an aura of confidence and capability.
Every night Alice and Frank were given a potion to drink and the younger healer gave Alice hers tonight. Alice thought the potion did not taste the same as usual but she drank it obediently as she always did. That night she dreamed a terrifying dream of pain and humiliation. A dark haired woman with the wild eyes of a fanatic pointed a wand at Alice and a flame of shot out of it piercing Alice with an unbearable pain. A scream forced its way out of her from deep inside, a cry of unendurable agony. At the edges of her vision she could see three other people cheering on the mad-eyed woman and far in the corner of the room was the figure of man thrown into the corner like a rag doll making a vain attempt to move and screaming for the woman to stop. One of the cheering men kicked the rag doll man viscously in the head and the only screams Alice could hear now were her own.
She woke herself up with her own screaming and she saw the anxious face and the worried eyes of the healer beside her bed quietly saying her name. "Alice, Alice you were dreaming. You can wake now."
Alice woke with a start and scrambled to the head of the bed. The healer stood away, increasing the distance between them. Alice glanced over at Frank who was sound asleep. She looked up at the healer and she saw from the way the young woman was standing slightly in profile that she was quite clearly pregnant. The light from the bedside lamp shone into a pair of green eyes and Alice was reminded of someone. "Lily?" she asked.
"No," said the healer "I'm not Lily. Tell me what you dreamed about."
"Pain," whispered Alice her voice hoarse from screaming and rusty from long disuse. "And her – the devil's woman!" She nodded and pointed to Frank saying, "Frank, he was there. The devil's woman said "I've broken him. Now I will break you." Alice's face filled with fear and she spoke in a cracked voice, "She broke me too."
"Yes, Alice," replied the healer, "but broken things can be mended. Do you want to be mended?"
Alice's face took on the look of hunted animal and she sank down onto the bed, pulled the covers over her and curled into a ball, her thin body shaking but the healer heard the word "yes" quietly spoken from beneath the protection of the bedsheets.
With the security of the bed covers over her head Alice lay still and remembered another pregnant young woman with green eyes and who was called Lily. She recalled sitting with Lily at a long oak table in a kitchen with no windows, they both had the chairs pushed out from the table to accommodate the large bellies they had sticking out in front of them - bellies that each contained a baby boy, babies that had been born just one day apart. Alice placed her hands on her belly – it was flat and soft - there was no baby in there anymore. She smiled as she remembered that her baby was somewhere safe, she had protected him.
When Alice got out of bed the next day she noticed that someone had left a pile of plain white paper, some paints, brushes and colouring pencils on a table near the window. Today the picture projected onto the wall opposite was a pastoral scene – green rolling hills, dotted with white sheep, a slow moving river cutting a soft valley through the hills and snaking along the flat valley base. Alice contemplated the scene, absorbing the calmness. The nightmares from the previous night faded. She picked up a pot of green paint and poured some of it over a blank piece of paper. The paint formed a pool on the paper and stopped moving when its surface tension could hold it in position, using her hands she disturbed the puddle and smeared it around until the white paper had turned green. She slid another sheet of paper towards her and in doing so she saw that she had made a hand print on its pristine surface. She studied the imprint, turned to look at Frank and then with great deliberation placed another handprint next to the one already there. She stared at the image she had made as if something was missing. She reached out for a paintbrush, dunked it into the pot of green paint and daubed five green blobs, resembling a tiny version of the handprints she had just made. She studied the image that she had just created for several long minutes. She grabbed it from the table, violently tore into pieces, screwed the pieces into a ball and threw it against the wall with a loud sob.
She heard the healers walk towards her, speaking as they came. "Shall we leave the art materials Miriam? It seems to have had an effect."
"Yes. Do so. You are right about there being little in the way of stimulation in here for our long term residents. Perhaps there is something in the muggle ways you describe. We have always tried to keep them calm and supress the memories of the trauma they have experienced."
"And that may yet be the best way to look after them, but I believe we should try other treatments."
Alice noticed that her hands were covered in green paint and held them up beseechingly to the healers. The older healer spoke to her colleague, "I'll deal with this. You go off shift now and I'll see you tomorrow." Turning to Alice she said, "Come with me to the bathroom, we'll soon clean you up."
In the bathroom Alice washed her hands. As she rinsed them under the running tap the green tinged water swirled down the plug like a minute cyclone full of dust but becoming clearer and clearer, until once again it had regained its transparency. Her hands were clean again and her mind was still cloudy but for the first time in a long time there were breaks in the clouds.
Some days later, after Alice had eaten breakfast, the younger healer spoke to her. "You will have visitors later today, Alice. Augusta and Neville are coming." Alice looked at her blankly but the healer carried on "Would you like to wear robes today, instead of your nightdress?"
Alice fingered the neck of her nightdress, which peeked out from under her dressing gown. Robes? She couldn't remember ever wearing robes. All the residents of the ward only wore nightclothes - it had not occurred to her that she didn't have to. "Come," said the healer, "I've put some on your bed, and," she added, "I have some for Frank too."
Alice followed the healer to her bed. Frank was already wearing his robes which were dark grey. He was standing by his bed beaming with joy and admiring himself in a mirror which had been brought into the ward for this purpose. At once Alice wanted to wear robes too. The healer drew a pair of flowery curtains around the two beds and left Alice to change in privacy. Alice took off her dressing gown and pulled the nightdress over her head. On the bed was a set of lavender coloured robes. She picked them up, they were soft to the touch and smelt of open air and sunshine - something she hadn't smelled for a very long time, except for faints wafts of air on summer days when the windows were opened. She lifted the robes over her head and put her arms into the sleeves. The robe fell in gentle folds from her shoulders and she felt a tender tug as someone smoothed and straightened out the pleats at the back in an action that was both startlingly familiar yet half forgotten. A pair of hands settled on her shoulders and she leant back into the comfort of an embrace. She looked at the reflection in the mirror. Frank was standing behind her and it was his arms around her. She met his eyes in the mirror and they stood there, lavender against dark grey. For an instant she saw a flicker of memory in Frank's eyes, his hands dropped to his side, he stepped back and resumed the vacant smile he wore so readily. Alice felt emptiness and loss but then the feeling was gone and she saw only her own reflection in the mirror.
The voice of the healer came through the curtains, "Are you dressed now Alice? May I come in?" Alice nodded but of course the healer couldn't see her. Most of the healers didn't bother to ask but just came in unannounced. "Alice?" repeated the healer.
"Yes," Alice said aloud.
The curtain opened and the healer came in. "You look lovely," she said, "but shall we do something with your hair? I've already brushed Frank's hair."
Alice looked at Frank who was now sitting erect on the chair by his bed as if he didn't want to crease his nice new clothes. His hair was brushed backwards from the front hairline. He still had a thick head of hair, with no sign on baldness. Alice touched her own hair, it felt thin and wiry but it hadn't always been like that. The healer was holding a hairbrush, Alice gestured at her hand and the healer passed the brush to her. Alice shook her head stiffly. "Wand" she ordered. The healer's eyes widened slightly in surprise but she handed across her own wand to Alice without comment.
Alice took the wand and examined it. It was a grey colour and intricately decorated. It had been a long time since Alice had held a wand and she realised she missed the feel of it. With sudden clarity she remembered that her own wand had looked nothing like this one. She took a breath, pointed the wand at her hair and said, "capillum constituo". Her hair slowly filled out and wound itself into an intricate bun at the back of her head. It no longer looked thin or wiry and, despite her hair being almost pure white, the neat arrangement made her look younger than she had for years.
"Now take a look in the mirror," the healer suggested and addressed Frank saying, "Frank, doesn't your wife look beautiful?"
In response to the question Frank looked at Alice and something changed in his expression, a flicker of memory flashed across his face and he got out of his chair and crossed the few steps to where Alice was looking at herself in the mirror. He touched the bun at the back of her head; she turned to face him and he said clearly "Alice, such beautiful hair." He pulled her into an embrace; Alice laid her head on his shoulder and put her arms around him and they stood like that for several minutes. The healer felt tears sting her eyes as she observed a rare demonstration of the love the two had for one another and proof that it had not been destroyed despite the torture they had endured.
The moment was broken by the sound of the door to the ward being opened and an authoritative voice announcing she had come to visit Frank and Alice Longbottom. The healer unobtrusively took her wand back from Alice and moved the mirror as Alice and Frank stood apart. Two people entered the area walking past the curtains which were still drawn around the beds; one was a formidable-looking old witch wearing long green robes and a pointed hat which was decorated with a stuffed vulture, accompanying her was a boy of around 15 years old, starting to grow into his adult body but still showing signs of puppy fat especially in his round face.
"Augusta. Neville" said the healer cheerfully, "It's nice to see you. Shall I leave the curtains closed?"
Augusta didn't reply, she was staring at Frank and Alice and said in astonishment, "They've got dressed!"
Alice heard the woman speak, slowly the words registered and she glanced down at her robe, it was lavender, such a pretty colour. Usually she was dressed in a white nightdress, she remembered some words about the robes; she remembered a pair of arms holding her and someone saying something about visitors. The old woman looked familiar, Alice had seen her before, she recognised the hat - it had wings. Once Alice could fly, she tilted her head slightly to one side and thought about flying. Her hair would stream out behind her, she put her hand to hair to keep it from blowing about in the wind. The old woman mistook the gesture and said, "Your hair is very nice, Alice. So is yours, Frank." She turned to her young companion, "Don't you agree, Neville?"
"Yes, Gran," mumbled the boy, "Very nice."
Alice's attention turned to the boy. He was familiar too. Wait! She had something for him. She crossed over to the drawer by her bed and opened it. Inside was a packet of Droobles Best Blowing Gum. Alice didn't like Blowing Gum but the wrapper was brightly coloured. She remembered a baby that loved to play with the wrappers. He would hold the wrapper in one of his chubby hands and pass it from one hand to the other, his face beaming in a smile at the crinkling sound of the wrapper. Sometimes when the sun shone in through the window it would reflect on the shiny paper causing it to glitter in his hands. The baby would give a little squeal of excitement and shake the paper up and down making the little sparkles move erratically. Alice remembered the stars from a wand being added to the patterns and a man laughing as another wrapper flew into the air and hovered in front of the baby's face twinkling and twisting in the air just out of his reach. The man picked up the baby and playfully spun him around saying "This is my boy, my baby boy who will reach the stars and make his parents proud."
Alice knew that you shouldn't give blowing gum to babies – they could choke on it. She unwrapped the gum and went back to the boy and handed him the wrapper. "Thanks Mum," he whispered.
Alice sat on the end of her bed and the old witch, who the boy called Gran, began to speak. She spoke about the plans that she and Neville (that was the boy's name!) had for the Christmas holiday. The woman spoke as if she had to fill the space with words even if they had no meaning, as though she feared what the silence meant, as though she feared that Alice and Frank could never again fill a silence with words.
Alice didn't want to hear Gran talk any longer and she abruptly stood up from the bed and walked towards the mirror. She beckoned to the boy, Neville, to come over. He crossed the small space and stood next to her, she looked frail and thin in comparison to his well filled out, slightly chubby frame. Alice turned to see her husband and said "Frank."
Neville stiffened in shock, "Mum!" he said at the same time as his grandmother exclaimed "Alice!"
Frank ambled over from the chair he had been sitting on since the visitors arrived and stood next to Alice and Neville. The three of them stared at their reflections in the mirror and Augusta went to join them. Alice pointed at the image in the mirror saying, "Frank. Neville. Gran. Alice." Augusta and Neville remained stock-still with the glint of tears shining in their eyes and saw one mirror, one reflection, three generations, one family.