The Houses Competition
Ravenclaw
Charms
Theme: [Forgotten] Forgetting something/someone, being forgotten by someone.
Prompt: [First Line] He never forgot how it felt when she told him those magic words.
Extra Prompt: [Sound] Raindrops on the glass.
1344 Words
AN Non-epilogue and/or Twitter-compliant; Alternate Universe; warning for mention of medical hurt-to-heal without consent
He never forgot how it felt when she told him those magical words: I'm pregnant. His very heart beat to the tune of that truth: someone special to him was pregnant. The details were foggy, lost to the agony of a thousand fires on his nerves, but the man could handle that. He had to trust that everything he'd forgotten had been lost for a greater good, the protection of the voice and the child held within. Nothing was worth risking the bearer of the words or the babe within.
The man didn't know how long he'd been floating: pictures of places and people almost coming into focus only to disappear again in the darkness the moment he tried to focus. He was nothing and had nothing, nothing but those two words. Had someone spoken them to him? Were there others beyond this endless nothingness? He didn't know. He didn't…
Aaaaaaaaaaaaah! It burned. The fires had returned, returned to burn away his solitary comfort! He couldn't allow it! He wouldn't! Suddenly, the memory of a great expanse like his own but different came to view. Water! That's what he needed. Diving deep, the burning slowly died away only for a new, more peaceful darkness to claim the man.
"You want to move him? Sir, I cannot in good consciousness allow this while his state is this fragile. You must be patient and allow the treatment to do its work without interruption. It's unreasonable to expect miracles just because of one positive outcome. To put such expectations–"
"Expectations? I've not held any expectations for St Mungo's in years. Nothing positive that has happened can be attributed to these walls. That you would dare use that curse on him…. Hasn't he suffered enough? Who gave you that right?" Were those voices he heard? The man tried to focus even as his body seemed heavier than ever before.
"New research has suggested that the pain curse, when used responsibly, can be used to help victims of severe trauma. It was hoped that that might bring him back to awareness and allow Frank, I mean Mr Longbottom, to remember something of his wife and family…."
Frank, that was his name! As the speakers moved out of hearing range, Frank tried to put together the pieces of this puzzle. Fragments of memories sped past helping with that goal. He'd been fighting, fighting a group of elitists. What was their name again? Death Eaters! Images of red lights and the resulting burn helped him to put the rest together.
Obviously, St Mungo's had been overtaken by Death Eaters, and they sought to 'cure' him with Crucios. He didn't know what they wanted, but he'd do anything to keep them from succeeding or learning that he was somewhat aware of the world around him.
The voices returned, and Frank was thankful that while his mind was aware, his body was still strangely non-reactive. It would help him to maintain the ruse.
"You have one month to get him well enough to be moved. I won't tolerate any excuses!" An aura of authority could be heard in that voice. The Death Eater's leader perhaps? Definitely someone high up in the ranks, if nothing else.
"I–yes, sir. It will be as you say." The low-ranking scum capitulated. It seemed that Frank had a timeline. One month of pretending while regaining enough strength to make the world safe for… the name escaped him even as, for the first time in his memory, he remembered the sound of her disbelieving laugh as she told him the magical words.
One month and the world would be safe, or he would be dead, no longer able to betray that musical sound.
"Good morning, Mr Longbottom!" Susan, his most common tender, called out while opening the curtains to a depressingly rainy day. Frank had no understanding of how such a cheerful personality could have been drawn into the Dark Lord's ranks, but that didn't matter. Keeping his stare carefully vacant as he looked out the window panes, Frank let her complete the morning rituals of preparing him for the day with a few flicks of the wand. First, a series of cleaning charms made him appear fresh. It was a strange thing for the enemy to focus on but one that he was especially happy for. Feeling the magic dance about his skin had helped him to reconnect with his own magic, even if just in the short moments he was left to his own devices.
Next came spelling some form of slop into his stomach, a cleaner alternative to trying to feed him orally, though Susan had assured him that if he kept swallowing his spittle so effectively, they might be able to try a cool broth someday soon.
Finally, he was softly lowered into some sort of wheeled chair. The deluded Susan prattled on about how, if he regained control of his magic, they could take off the blockers that kept him from moving the chair himself, but for now, he'd have to be content with looking out the window while he waited for Healer Smith.
The rain droplets helped him to keep a blank face as Smith tried to get a reaction out of him. The Death Eater made outlandish claims about the fates of different Order members and kept prodding him to ask about anyone he might've missed. In each droplet was the face of another friend or ally. Moody. Hagrid. Lupin. The Potters. Some names were less familiar. Frank had no idea who Tonks was, and no matter how much Smith described Granger's wild hair, none of the raindrops formed a clear picture of the corresponding face. Sometimes, Smith would speak of impossibly happy endings for those he knew. Other times, their death and destruction made it difficult to keep up the mask.
Only the rain helped him, its cheerful pitter-patter inevitably shifting to the reason he kept up the charade. 'I'm pregnant' little droplets echoed in his ear. She's pregnant and depending on him. Only by stopping the madman could he dare risk seeking her out.
So every day, he wore the mask, and every night, he stretched his wandless magic a little further… for her and the life inside.
The day came, and with it was a solemn man, younger than Frank had imagined the Dark Lord to be, and a blonde woman whose stomach made his breath catch.
Every eye seemed to turn to him, but before anything could happen, the Dark Lord's hands gripped his chair and…
The unsettling feeling of side-along Apparation discombobulated Frank for a moment, but when he opened his eyes, he was surprised to find himself outside his home. Though the rain poured as hard as ever, Frank couldn't hear it over his shock and surprise.
Longbottom Manor hadn't changed much, and a part of Frank hoped to see his mother ready to defend the ancestral home. Instead, another woman entered, her brown hair falling softly on the too-thin shoulders of one who has been ill for a long time. As their eyes met, their bodies froze. He knew her, and a rush of memories with his wife, Alice, flashed before him. There was the one eternal one, but after came others of fighting alongside her in battle. Her annoyance as her favourite gardening pants stopped fitting. The happiness of learning the baby would be a boy. The first cry of his son. Oh, Merlin. He had a son! The childish laughter of the babe as he 'helped' his mother with her potted plants reminded Frank of Alice, and his heart clenched even as he drank up every memory. How could he have forgotten either of them?
When Frank came back to himself, all of the others surrounded his chair. The fight he'd been preparing for suddenly seemed premature. There was something about the young man, the way he bit his lip as though nervous….
"H–Hi Dad. I'm Neville."
For the first time since he'd awakened, the clouds and rain gave way for the sun.