This was not where Pansy expected to be on her night off, even if someone had told her to list one hundred places. Merlin! She didn't even think it would appear on her list of one thousand, and certainly not for the reason she had been summoned. Never in a million years.
The fire call had roused her from her doze on the sofa after a long day at St Mungo's. A disembodied voice calling her from her confusion.
"Healer Proctor? We've got an emergency, Healer Sloane asked for you to accompany him."
It took her a moment to remember that Healer Procter was her. Since the war and her parent's disgrace, she had changed her name so that she could attempt to carve a name for herself in society with fewer curses and a lot less hate mail. She mostly did it so that her patients might trust her. Most people didn't know what Pansy Parkinson looked like, but they certainly knew the name. So, along with her reputation and money, her name disappeared from history too.
"Healer Proctor?" The voice called again.
"Yes! Yes," She replied tiredly, rubbing at her eyes. "What's the address?
Longbottom House. She swallowed nervously as she gazed at the small, grey watermill, waiting for someone to come to the door. She wondered whether Neville still lived here, she sincerely hoped not. One of the benefits of working for Messrs Ichabod and Chorley, was virtual anonymity as they only dealt with the old pureblood houses and those with money.
She pondered this as she stood on the threshold of the Longbottom residence, Yeah they were an old pureblood family but as far as she was aware they had never been a particularly rich one. Certainly not rich enough to afford the sort of fees that Ichabod and Chorley demanded.
The clear night air smelt of honeysuckle as the vine overtook a near bush. The garden didn't look as neat as she would have expected, what with Longbottom being such a plant enthusiast. Come to think of it the garden looked almost unkempt. Mint seemed to be overtaking the nearest flowerbed, and there were gaps in the row of roses where dead stalks poked up out of the ground. Maybe Longbottom didn't live here anymore…
The door opened with a creak as the formidable Mrs Longbottom stood in the doorway. The disapproving scowl that she always used to wear on platform 9 ¾ absent from her heavily lined face. How many years had it been now since she had graduated from school? It felt like a decade, but it was probably closer to two or three years in the rush of all-nighters, cramming sessions, exams and mountains of magi-medical scrolls. She had kept herself busy, trying to pay back to the world after the mess that should have been her final year at school.
"Please, come in!" Augusta Longbottom urged, almost wrenching her arm from her socket as she pulled her through the door. Pansy felt the dread settle in her stomach as she took a steadying breath. If Augusta was letting her in, that must mean that she was here to see Neville.
She swore profusely under her breath as she nodded and stepped into the hallway. The house was lovely but slightly threadbare, as though everything was old and well worn, there were obvious gaps too, like marks in the carpet where furniture had been but now wasn't. She didn't dwell on it too long as she waited for the Longbottom Matriarch to guide her through to the patient.
"Please, they're in the kitchen." She urged as she shut the door behind them. Pansy travelled the length of the corridor and through the far doorway leading into the warm kitchen. Her eyes found nothing but a battered old table, a well-used stove and countertops. There were several doors off the kitchen—a Dutch rear door that could swing in half as well as two others. One was made of wooden panelling, whereas the other was heavier and newer. She wondered whether they were through there. Unable to see any sign of Sloane or Neville. She knocked on the dark wood with her knuckles and blinked as the door swung open.
Sloane was hunched over on the floor looking at a body. He was older than her but not as ancient as the healers who owned the practice. At a guess, she would put him in his late fifties, with dark black hair that was starting to go grey at the ears. Out of all the healers at the practice, he was by far the best to work with.
Pansy froze, even if she hadn't been in his house, she would've recognised the legs and the ugly argyle jumper anywhere. Her heart thumped loudly as she leant against the door frame.
"Proctor? I need you. It appears to be Aconite poisoning." He said as the legs quivered and trembled.
"Aconite? What's Neville doing with Aconite?" Pansy heard herself ask as her training kicked in. She knelt on the floor, suddenly, her hands on his legs. Feeling the skeletal legs beneath the material caused her to flinch. His whole appearance was one of hair, dirt and neglect as his clothes hung off him. She felt a sudden sharp dislike towards Augusta Longbottom, for letting Neville turn out like this. The poor man had lost every pound of baby fat along with pounds that weren't his to give. He looked terrible. Sloane looked at her, his dark eye questioning her.
"Appears he was trying to brew his own wolfsbane potion and got the dosage wrong," Sloane replied with a shake of his head. Right, questions could be asked later, once the danger was over. "We may be too late," He said quietly.
"We've got to try, What's his heart doing?" Pansy asked, her heart racing at the thought of him not being in the world.
"It's all over the place and getting weaker. I'm not sure there's anything we can do."
"Please, help my Grandson." Augusta pleaded as tears came to her eyes.
"Mrs Longbottom? Does Neville have any Marigold or Liverwort here?" She asked without looking up. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her medical bag and expanded it before rummaging for what she was after.
"I think so," She said uncertainly.
"I need you to find it for me as well as a cup of water," She pulled out her pestle and mortar as well as a small vial of black powder.
"His heartbeat is fading, whatever you need to do, you need to do it fast, I can't hold him for much longer."
Pansy launched to her feet, racing into the kitchen. Raising her wand, she summoned a mug from one of the cupboards and returned to the small room, casting the aguamenti charm before she was back on her knees. Adding the black powder, she looked at the other healer.
"Hold him up, we need to get the poison out."
"But he might breathe it in and choke,"
"He's dead if we don't," Sloane nodded and moved Neville into a sitting position, and it took every ounce of training she had to not gasp at how awful he looked. She pushed the mug to his lips and started to pour as she massaged the coarse hair at his throat, the start of a beard sandy beard catching her fingers. He began to swallow the charcoal as Augusta returned, herbs in hand.
"They need to be ground into a paste," She ordered with less than a glance at the older woman.
"I've lost his heartbeat," Sloane said as he tapped his wand against Neville's chest again.
"No," She said certainly. She let him go as Sloane lowered him to the ground. Pulling her wand out, she tapped it to his chest. "Pulsatio," She muttered, feeling a surge of energy rush through her, through her wand and into his heart.
"Nothing," Sloane said
"Pulsatio Maxima," Pansy muttered, feeling the surge again.
"Nothing,"
"She took a deep breath and put all her might behind the charm. "Pulsatio Maxima," She forced the surge through her fingers, imagined it coiling around his heart and squeezing it into life. If anyone should be given a second chance, it should be him.
"Nothing," Sloane muttered again, and Pansy slumped sadly.
"No, I'm not done," She said with a grit of her teeth. She repeated the spell again and again.
"Nothin-wait… There, it's faint but its there." Sloane shook his head in amazement before Neville started to convulse again. "Quickly, Roll him!" He ordered.
They did so just in time as Neville started to be sick, the remains of the failed Wolfsbane potion covering the tiled floor along with the charcoal.
"Well, that's a good start," Pansy said with a sigh before sitting back on her heels, relieved that she hadn't changed out of her scrubs yet.