Posted: 3 October, 2009

Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this story that is recognisable from the Harry Potter books, movies, etc. Everything else however (eg. story plot, original characters, etc.) stems from my own imagination and belongs to me. No copyright infringement is intended and I am not profiting financially from this story in any way.

Chapter 2 - A Thief in Need of Help

Harry hurried to follow his friend, as the security alarm blared at his eardrums. They dashed through the tropical nursery and out the front door. Then they turned and ran toward the next greenhouse along. The entered the building just as a woman was rushing to the exit, and in comical fashion, they all managed to fall over in a tumble of limbs. It was the sound of a child's cry that surprised them most however. Clambering quickly to their feet, they held their wand's ready and stared at the woman kneeling before them.

She was a sorry looking sight, waif thin and dressed in ragged, patched robes. Dark eyes stared out from a gaunt face topped with dirty hair. In her arms, there was a child, little more than three years old. He too was dirty and poorly dressed, but his eyes were a murky blue and his limbs bony. Both looked in desperate need of bath and food.

"What are you doing in here?" Neville asked.

His voice, Harry reflected, really should sound more demanding, given that this woman had set off his Thief's Ward. But his friend was far too compassionate sometimes. One look at the sorry duo, and he was more concerned with their health than his business. Looking at the scared pair – likely mother and child – Harry felt himself soften a little also, and reflected that Neville wasn't the only one too kind for his own good.

"I'm sorry sir," the woman said hastily, even as her boy whimpered. "I know I shouldn't've but my Timmy's not doin' so well. He has a fever, see, and I can't afford no Feverroot from the 'pothecary, so I…"

"Decided to steal some from me."

The blonde man was clearly trying to sound stern. The sight of the flushed, glassy-eyed child however, quickly proved too much for him. He sighed, and Harry nodded approvingly as he following his friend's lead in lowering his wand. The poor boy was clearly sick, and they had to help.

"Why don't you take him to St Mungo's?" he asked and the woman turned to look at him now.

"I can't afford it sir," she whispered.

"Alright," Neville huffed, extending a hand. "Show us what you took."

The woman reluctantly handed the bulbous root over, looking teary eyed, clearly fearing she was to leave without it. Neville stared at the plant, twisting it this way and that, before nodding.

"Good choice," he said approvingly. "It's at just the right stage for a Fever Reducer Potion. Can you brew?"

"Sir?"

"Can you brew? Only I'm terrible at Potions myself. Harry could probably manage it for us, but if you're good at it, that'd be better," he said to the bewildered woman, upon whom a hopeful expression was growing. "Come on, I've got a cauldron and whatnot in my office at greenhouse two."

And with that, the Herbologist puttered toward the door, gathering the few extra needed ingredients as he went.

Ten minutes later, little Timmy was laid out on the couch in Neville's office, and his mother was standing awkwardly at the desk, brewing a Fever Reducer potion. The two men had pulled up chairs beside the couch and were watching the scene with concern.

"Have you tried a cooling charm on him?" Harry asked, a bit worried at the state of the boy. "I mean, I doubt it would actually affect the fever, but it might sooth him some."

"No sir," the woman said, looking down as if ashamed. "I dunno how to do 'em."

He blinked. "But it's a second year spell. It's not that hard."

The woman blushed and Neville nudged him unsubtly in the ribs. He shot his friend an annoyed look only to receive a meaningful one in return. He had no idea what silent message the man was trying to get across, but fortunately the woman answered it anyway.

"I didn't go to 'ogwarts," she said, adding an ingredient to the cauldron, "so I was never a second year to learn it."

Again, he blinked. "Didn't go to Hogwarts?" he repeated in shock.

"Some people can't afford it," Neville explained quietly, shooting the woman an apologetic look. "You didn't think everyone went, did you?"

"Well yeah, I kind of did," he said flustered before gathering control of himself. "Do you mind if I cast one on him then… er, we haven't asked for your name, have we?"

"It's Jane, and I don't mind a bit sir."

"Good," he nodded, casting and watching as the boy relaxed a little in response. "And don't call me sir. Just Harry is fine."

"Oh but I couldn't sir," she said, eyes wide and earnest. "You're the man-who-triumphed."

"Oh." He winced at hearing his newest appellation. "Noticed that did you?"

"Of course sir."

Neville gave him a sympathetic look as he scrunched his face up. At least, Harry reflected, she wasn't the sort of fan to start bowing and scraping, or fawning and simpering. He tried to take his blessings where he could these days.

"So," he wondered aloud, "how do you find work without OWL results?"

"Mostly, we don't," Jane replied baldly.

"Only the lowest paying jobs hire without qualifications," Neville confirmed quietly, and there was an awkward silence.

"I've seen you before you know," the woman said quietly, shooting him a glance. "You rescued a group of us from Malfoy Manor during the war."

"Back in oh-three?"

"Yes. I'm so glad rescue came – I can't imagine what would've happened if I 'ad my baby in the dungeons."

"You were pregnant when you were captured?"

She hesitated, then shook her head. Harry was confused for a moment before the penny dropped and his breath caught. Timmy must have been conceived during her imprisonment, no doubt by the forced attentions of one of the Death Eaters. Of its own accord his head whipped toward the boy and his heart filled with pity, for the child and mother both. What a terrible situation. Looking at Neville showed he felt the same.

"You needn't feel sorry sir," Jane said firmly, though she avoided his gaze, focussing on her stirring. "'Twas an awful thing, true, but we're together. It's more'n most the children like Timmy get."

"What do you mean?" Neville asked in a hushed whisper.

"Well I'm hardly th' only woman what found 'erself in this situation," she explained. "Most of 'em couldn't bear to keep the child, if they bore it to term at all."

Harry reeled. He knew those sorts of things occurred of course. It was a sickening aspect of war. But he had never stopped to consider the physical consequences.

"So what happened to them all?" he asked. "The babies, I mean."

"Foundlings, abandoned. Sent to Muggle orphanages 'cause nobody wants 'em," she said and sighed sadly, removing the cauldron from the heat. "Poor children. Same thing as happens with the young o' the Death Eaters themselves what were imprisoned."

Harry frowned, looking over to Neville. It was clear he had never paused to wonder about the imprisoned Death Eaters' children either. And now, knowing the answer… it was disturbing. Was the government trying to create another Tom Riddle, rejecting so many children and throwing them to the Muggles?

As he watched Jane decant the yellow potion into a cup and bring it over to her son's lips, his mind was racing. Before he could think too heavily however, Timmy snuffled sleepily and curled onto his side, expression easing as his fever abated. Jane signed in relief and set the empty cup down, running her fingers through the boy's hair from her perch on the coffee table. She looked up at Neville with an expression of unending gratitude.

"Thank you," she stated quietly but earnestly. "Thank you so much. How can I make it up to you?"

The Herbologist blushed. "There's no need," he said. "Just look after your son."

She nodded. "If you change your mind just send an owl to Jane Jennings, yeah. A smart bird should find me."

Standing, she gathered the child in her arms. Goodbyes and more thanks were said before she left the office, and then the greenhouse, heading off to wherever she called home.

In the quiet that followed, Harry suddenly turned to Neville with a determined air. His friend, recognising the expression became hesitant.

"Harry," he said slowly, "what are you planning?"

"Planning?"

"Yes, planning," he said firmly. "I know that look on your face. It's your 'I have a rash and little thought out plan, and no one can change my mind' look."

Harry huffed. "I have a look for that?"

"Yes," was the firm reply.

"Okay, I was thinking – well I needed something to do. Probably helping people in some way. Right?"

"Right…"

"Well Jane just told us about a heap of problems with no one doing anything to solve them," he said eagerly, and expanded, "Lack of education in the lower class, children (of Death Eaters, one way or another) abandoned to the Muggle world, parents who can't afford health care for their children… and here I am, just recently debating taking up teaching, and with a soft spot for orphans, not to mention more money than is really healthy."

Neville's eyes widened. "You want to do something about it all?" He paused before a smile grew on his face. "I think it's a brilliant idea. It's perfect for you, and you could make a huge difference."

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