MISC

HEIR UNAPPARENT: CHAPTER 9 - Egrets and Elements

Hermione and Ginny were not at breakfast when the boys arrived in the Great Hall the following morning. "They dashed out of here half an hour ago," Neville told them. "Said they had to do something before class."

Ron consulted his schedule. "Damn it, Harry! We've got divination. Why in blazes didn't we drop it this year?"

Parvati Patil overheard him and sniffed. "I think Professor Trelawney is just wonderful!"

"Yeah, she's divine," Ron smirked, rolling his eyes.

"Well, there's nothing for it now but to go," sighed Harry. "How d'you suppose I'm going to die this year?"

"Don't joke!" cried Lavender Brown, scandalized by their irreverent attitude. "Her predictions have been right on for me!"

"Sure, and you consult Uranus…" muttered Ron under his breath.

The girls minced off while they boys trudged down the hallway to Trelawney's turret. When they reached the silver ladder leading to her loft, a pumpkin-colored poster stuck on the ladder's fourth rung caught their eye. Ron and Harry paused to read it:

STUCK WITH STUDIES?

NO TIME TO GET A DECENT COSTUME

FOR THE HALLOWEEN BALL?

WELL, BE OF GOOD CHEER,

'CAUSE WINKY IS HERE!

Be the Belle of the Ball in a custom-designed costume

from WINKY WEAR, a Dobby Corporation, ltd.

For information, contact Hermione Granger or Ginny Weasley, Griffindor.

Ron and Harry exchanged glances. "WINKY WEAR?" they sputtered in unison before bursting into gales of laughter. At last, when he had caught his breath, Harry said, "Geez, they're brave! Wonder how they talked her into it?"

It hadn't been easy, as the girls could have told them. They'd posted the flyers with Dobby's help that morning, without consulting the unknowing proprietor herself. After their first class, Hermione and Ginny returned to the kitchen. Their plan had already produced results; Hermione had a list of 25 names for Winky and Dobby.

Winky looked clean and fresh as the new morning, but still frightened. Her brown eyes were wide with alarm. "But, misses, I don't know as I can! I'm a minder of small things, I am, like sparrows and sprouts…"

"And stitches!" suggested Hermione. "Winky, you were always mending things for Mr. Crouch - senior," she quickly emphasized this last word. "And he was the sharpest dressed wizard at the Ministry!"

"Always neat as a pin!" agreed Ginny.

"But misses…"

"Winky, I need your help!" chirped Dobby. "I can't possibly make all these costumes by myself!"

Hermione nodded, then played her trump card. Placing her hands on Winky's wee shoulders, she looked directly into her huge brown eyes. "Winky, you're a house-elf and Hogwarts is your house! And we're your family now. You can't let us down - we need you!"

Winky blinked at this and was very still for a moment, then nodded quite seriously. "You is right, miss. You is. I have to take care of you now, I do."

Hermione grinned. Bingo!

Winky picked up her list and scanned the names. "Dobby!" she squeaked. "We is going to be very busy…"

Hermione and Dobby winked conspiratorially over Winky's head. Ginny clapped her hands in delight. The game was afoot!

As Winky assumed her new role as seamstress and costume maven, Arthur Weasley was rifling through the files of her old master. He had received an urgent owl from Albus Dumbledore, asking him to sift through all Ministry records relating to reports on magical misdemeanors and trial proceedings over the past fifteen years. Barty Crouch had maintained the old Auror reports and, upon Dumbledore's request, Arthur Weasley and his son Percy found themselves elbow-deep in them. Mr. Weasley frowned as he set some aside. Several, in particular, disturbed him. The Longbottoms had begun a report before they had been brutally tortured to insanity by Crouch's son; Neville's grandmother had found the unfinished document amongst their parchments. Another long parchment bore the neat quill of Lily Potter, filed just one week before her demise at the hands of Voldemort himself. The third was almost indecipherable, scrawled in the nervous hand of Alastor Moody. With a scowl and a deep sigh, he turned to Percy. "Let's get Albus on the fire. He ought to know about these. Wait!" He stopped his son before he called the Professor. "First let's try Alastor."

Percy rolled his eyes expressively. "Oh, Dad!"

"I know, Percy," replied his father mildly. "He's difficult, but do your best."

If Percy found Alastor Moody troublesome, he would have been triply exasperated if he'd been in Ron or Harry's shoes as they yawned through a tedious morning of Professor Trelawney. She was trying, with great difficulty, to explain the intricate art of reading Tarot cards. Only her prize students, Lavender and Parvati, seemed to have any real interest in deciphering the cryptic messages on their oversized decks of cards.

"Your cards are identical to those used by the Order of the Golden Dawn. Their ability to pick up nuances from your subconscious is exquisite! You are, in this case, both seeker and reader, so it is essential to focus on your question as you shuffle your cards, then lay them down in the pattern I've shown you. This is known as a spread. We are currently using the Celtic Cross. Each position in the spread has a meaning, as does each card. You combine these two meanings to shed light on your question. Now try again, and this time focus, focus, FOCUS!"

Ron kept focusing on his new role as Keeper, then slapping his cards down and frowning. "Damn!" he muttered to Harry. "I keep getting the Tower; isn't that supposed to be a chaos card?"

Harry grinned. "Don't worry, Ron. I keep asking about Cho and according to these," he indicated his own sprawl of cards, "she doesn't even know my name!"

Heartened, Ron focused again and redealt. "Idiot cards…" he mumbled.

After what seemed an eternity, the bell rang and the boys literally jumped from their seats, showing more animation in stuffing their tarot decks into their backpacks than they did through the entire class. Professor Trelawney clucked her tongue irritably at them as they sprinted down the silvery ladder, to lunch and to freedom.

When they arrived in the Great Hall, Ginny and Hermione were swamped with students who had formed a queue beside the Griffindor table. Crabbe and Goyle were doubled over in hysterics at the Slytherin table, where Malfoy was making little barking noises at Hermione. Fortunately, she was too busy taking names for costume requests to notice. "Right. Justin Finch-Fletchley. Pirate. Okay, next!" Ginny was using magimeasure tape to get approximate sizes.

Ron and Harry took seats at the far end of the table with George and Fred, who were watching the proceedings with amused interest. "Y'know, I think they've got something here! Maybe we can recruit Winky to make things for Weasley's Wizard Wonders!" mused George.

"I wonder what they hell I'm going to do for a costume," griped Ron. "I won't wear that moldy maroon robe ever again!"

Harry coughed and looked significantly at the twins. "Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins - we've got you covered!" said Fred.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"It means," said George. "that we're all going as the Chudley Cannons. We've got you a costume!"

"You do? Wow - thanks!" Ron breathed a sigh of relief as the image of his worn velvet robe was replaced with a pumpkin orange one. "Cool! Where'd you get them?"

George looked smug. "Quality Quidditch Supplies, of course!"

Fred grinned. "We'll look tacky as hell - they really clash with our hair, but why not? Harry here will look good!"

"I'm not so sure," said Harry, hoping Cho liked pumpkin orange.

At last, Hermione and Ginny had taken down the information for their final customer and joined the boys.

Ron draped his arm around Hermione. "So what are you going to wear to the Halloween Ball, Hermione?"

She gave him a little shrug. "Don't know! Winky and Dobby said they're going to surprise us."

"How about that poodle idea of mine, Granger?" sneered a voice behind them. Malfoy stood, arms folded, looking every inch the annoyance he was.

Hermione pulled Ron back into his seat. "Just ignore him, Ron!" she hissed.

"I've got a better idea…" he replied, pulling her to him for a quick kiss. He then turned to Malfoy with an arch smile. "She's taken, Malfoy. Clear off, or ickle Pansy will be angry with you!"

Malfoy looked mutinous. "Taken, eh, Weasley? There's not a thing at Hogwarts I can't beat you to, including her!" he jerked his thumb at Hermione.

"He's already won that battle, ferret-boy!" she retorted, laying her trusting head on Ron's shoulder. Ron kissed her forehead and didn't bother to look at Malfoy as he said, "Damn right, lady."

"We'll see about that…" muttered Malfoy, returning to the Slytherin table under the watchful eye of Severus Snape, who had been conversing with Minerva McGonagall at the faculty table.

"I fear we have a hornet's nest developing amidst our happy little horde…" he observed, watching Malfoy take his seat with the Slytherins.

Minerva followed his glare and sighed. "Severus, please. His father is in a dangerous position. As you well know. Do be careful…" she said, placing a restraining hand on his forearm for emphasis.

Snape looked first at her hand, then into her eyes. "I have never had a reason for caution. May I assume… that I have one now?"

She blushed under his regard but squeezed his arm before withdrawing her hand. "You may," she said simply.

Snape's smile split his grim visage like a ray of sunlight slicing through storm clouds; he found himself wondering what she would look like with her magnificent raven hair framing her face instead of pulled back into its customary spinsterish knot at the back of her neck.

Albus Dumbledore, who took his place with a slightly amused air, interrupted these pleasant thoughts. "Well, how fare our Hogwartians this fine day?"

"Min… Professor McGonagall was just expressing her concern about young Malfoy's behavior."

"Ah," replied Dumbledore mildly. "Yes, he does seem to be picking up the very worst of his family's traits, doesn't he?"

Snape frowned. He had passed his school years with Lucius Malfoy and the memories were not pleasant.

"And yet," continued Dumbledore thoughtfully. "Narcissa, for all her airs, has a certain warmth toward her son. Perhaps this will prove his salvation."

"Oh, Albus," sighed McGonagall. "I fear that is too much to hope for."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Not at all, my dear Minerva. A mother's love is a powerful thing. Take our young Potter, for example. Yes, a woman's love is something to be reckoned with…" he picked up his spoon and tucked in to his soup. Snape could have sworn Dumbledore winked at him, ever so slightly.

After lunch, the Griffindors drowsed as Professor Binns delivered his sonorous weekly lecture about wizarding history. Even Hermione found herself fading until Ron tickled her from the seat behind. She roused and shot him a sheepish smile. Ron was aglow and surprisingly awake for the lecture, although he took no notice of Binns' recitation on the defeat of the evil wizard Tian during the Warring States Period in China at the turn of the third century, BC. Neville, too, seemed wide-awake but he was taking copious notes. Ron, however, had many more important things on his mind. Like Quidditch goalposts, orange Chudley Cannon costumes and, most importantly, when he would be able to finally kiss Hermione, hard and long, as he had wanted to since that evening at the Burrow.

The bell sounded and the Griffindors made their way to Snape's dungeon to join the fifth year Slytherins for Potions class. Harry did a double take as he saw Snape, sitting behind his desk with what seemed to be a wistful smile on his face. Snape started and his face re-assumed its customary frown. Harry shook his head. Must be imagining things, he told himself.

Potions class was, as always, arduous. Fifth year was even harder than the previous four years combined. Snape dryly pointed out that O.W.L.s were facing them at year's end and they would be expected to recall every single thing they learned in class. Neville, amazingly, did not seem to be all thumbs as he measured the ingredients for a rather difficult potion designed to 'clear a room of bad auras'.

After class, Ron and Hermione walked hand-in-hand back to Griffindor Tower with Harry; Neville stayed behind to talk to Professor Snape about his potion. The boys could not stop talking about Quidditch practice and Hermione could tell by the way Ron kept squeezing her hand that he was very excited. And very nervous.

"Would you like me to come watch you practice?" she asked as they waited for their turn to climb through the Griffindor portal.

"Oh, Hermione, not this first time, okay?" Ron colored slightly.

Hermione kissed his cheek. "Okay. Don't be nervous, Ron. You're going to be the best keeper Griffindor has ever had!"

He glowed with her praise. "You really think so?" he asked hopefully.

"I know so." She also knew that she was relieved she didn't have to face Ron and Viktor at the same time.

While the boys went off to Quidditch practice that evening, Hermione confided her troubles to Ginny in the relative quiet of the common room. "Oh, Ginny, what am I going to do? I don't want to hurt Viktor - he has such a big heart…"

Ginny shook her head. She could only imagine her friend's plight, having three males interested in her at the same time, two of them her own brothers. For her part, she only wanted one and it seemed impossible now that he was getting involved with Cho Chang. Sighing, she turned her thoughts back to Hermione's dating woes. "Do you think you need to say anything at this point? Viktor will only be here for a day or two, throughout the year, and Bill is off in Egypt…"

"Bill!" Hermione's eyes flew wide. "What do you mean, Bill?"

Ginny smiled at Hermione; for someone so bright, she had a definite blind spot when it came to her own appeal. "Hermione," she began gently. "Why do you think Ron has been so upset? It's obvious - Bill likes you too!"

Hermione shook her head firmly. "No, that's just silly. Bill just sees me as… as another little sister!"

"Oh? He didn't send me an egret, did he? I am his little sister and I'm telling you he likes you!"

Hermione remained firm. "Come on, Ginny! He's gorgeous, footloose and independent! He wouldn't be interested in a kid like me!"

"You're not a kid, Hermione!" contradicted Ginny. "Last May, before he went back to Egypt, he asked me all about you."

Hermione was stunned. "He did? What did he ask?"

"Oh, if you were a good friend of mine, what you liked to do. Stuff like that."

"Ginny, he was just being nice!"

Ginny shook her head. "Maybe. But you're the only friend he's ever asked about, and he's met plenty! I told him that you were the nicest, sweetest, smartest person I knew here. He liked that especially, that you were smart. Bill was head of his class, you know - he got twelve O.W.L.s!"

Hermione refused to believe the suave Bill had any real interest in her. Instead, she offered her own theory. "Ginny, I've been thinking. A few days ago, I was talking to Bill about his work; the ancient Egyptian wizards are just fascinating! Anyway, I remember he told me that they used to use egrets and herons, not owls, to carry messages to each other. Then I looked up the purple egret in one of the books Hagrid told me about. Do you know what the purple egret is, historically, I mean?"

Ginny did not, so Hermione filled her in at some length. "It's a relative of the Phoenix. Like Fawkes. It nests in the top of tall palm trees, called benus. That means 'royal purple'… Anyway, the purple egret was used in times of great need, as a herald to bring wizards together to defeat a common foe. According to the text, the Theban wizard-pharaoh Ahmoses used one to gather wizards from as far as Nubia, to overthrow the tyranny of Hyksos kings from Asia in 1567 BC."

"So?"

"So, I think Bill is worried for us. Especially Harry. He was there, last May, remember? He knows all about… what happened. I think he gave me Hermes to send for him, and others, if we need to."

Ginny sighed. She did not agree with Hermione's analysis but it was useless to tell her so. "Well. That brings us back to Viktor Krum. Do you… do you love him, Hermione?"

"Of course I do!" Hermione answered truthfully. "But… I love Ron even more." There. She'd said it, to herself as much as to his sister.

Ginny put a reassuring hand on Hermione's arm. "Then it's simple, isn't it? Go with your heart, Hermione."

Hermione's response was cut short by the arrival of Neville, who brought a chessboard over to their table. "Anyone up for a game?" he asked hopefully.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm terrible at chess, Neville! I'd just waste your time!"

Ginny graciously accepted. "Sure, Neville, I'll play, though I'm nothing compared to Ron!"

"Oh yes you are," Neville said quickly, adding, "I mean, you're better than I am!" If Ginny only knew what every second of her time meant to him.

"Neville, what did you want to ask Professor Snape? After Potions?"

Neville looked at her solemnly. "Remember, we used the scale of a lung in our potion today?"

"Yeah. It's one of the Chinese dragons, isn't it? It's supposed to be strong protection against air-born diseases."

"Exactly. And Professor Binns talked about the defeat of Tian today, remember?"

Hermione colored slightly. She'd had a tough time staying focused in Binns' lecture this morning.

Neville moved a pawn, and continued. "Hagrid told me in Care of Magical Creatures that we're supposed to be getting a pi-his, from Remus Lupin. He's been traveling in Asia."

"He has?"

"Yeah. Don't you remember the Yales? He sent those from India."

"What's a pi-his?" asked Ginny, as she took Neville's pawn.

"It's a tortoise, from China," explained Neville. "It represents the water element. The lung is the air element."

Hermione sat up. "What are you suggesting, Neville?"

"Dunno. But it struck me as interesting. See, I've been reading Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them. Remember, we used that text our first year? Well, it talks about four elementals. Besides the dragon and the turtle, there's the Ky-lin, which is like a flying unicorn; it represents the earth. And for fire, there's the feng-huang. Which is a Chinese phoenix. When they're brought together, their magical potential is… unfathomable."

Hermione thought for a moment. "Do you think Dumbledore is trying to collect them here, before Voldemort could use them?"

Neville shook his head as studied the chessboard. "He can't use them, Hermione. I checked with Snape. They can only be used with positive energy." He moved another pawn and continued, "It's been bothering me, since that awful visit with Mum and Dad. Something they said about the final piece…"

"And you think the elementals may be that piece?" Hermione's analytic brain was revving into gear.

"Dunno. I just have this feeling… y'know, like when you're working a puzzle and you can see the picture all broken up into bits. You need to put the bits together to see the whole…"

"Hmm. I know exactly what you mean, Neville…"

While puzzle pieces were discussed in the common room, Ron and Harry gathered around Alicia Spinnet. "We are so lucky, gang!" she grinned as she informed them that the Viktor Krum would be joining them for their first practice.

Ron looked a bit sour about this, but was so anxious about his performance as Keeper that he did not comment.

They had all mounted their brooms and were starting to bat the Quaffle about informally when Harry recognized Krum flying towards them from the locker rooms. He was struck by how lightly Krum handled the broomstick, as if it wasn't there at all. Harry had only seen Krum play once, at the Quidditch World Cup. It was amazing to see him this close.

The entire team, save Ron, had enormous grins on their faces. Krum, for all his renown, was actually quite personable. He started to talk to them about various formations they could work on, including the Porskoff Ploy and the Hawkshead Formation. With Krum on the sidelines coaching, they practiced until the sun had set and their muscles ached. While the others practiced with the Quaffle and Bludgers, keeping Ron zipping around the goalposts like an angry housefly, Krum and Harry vied for the golden Snitch. Krum captured it swiftly, but Harry had given him a run for his money; he could tell by the sweat trickling down his forehead.

"You are an excellent Seeker, Harry Potter! Next time, ve vill vork on the Vronski Feint, yes?"

They had landed, replacing the jumpy snitch into its box while the rest of the team gathered the remaining balls. "I'd like that, Viktor - I still can't believe the way you outran Lynch at the World Cup!"

Krum smiled, almost shyly. "Yah, vell, I hope I can do that again vith Peru. They are a very hard team."

Krum slung his Firebolt over his shoulder and led Harry away from the rest of the team, reluctant for them to overhear.

"I haf a favor to ask ov you, Harry… I vant you to promise me to keep a vatch over Hermyowninny this year."

Harry was taken aback. "Hermione?"

"Yah." Krum leaned in, almost conspiratorially. "I am vorried for her, Harry. Please, vill you promise me this?"

"I vill…er, will, if you tell me why you're worried…"

Krum looked uncomfortable. "I haf read in the Bulgarian Seer about the vitches who haf been murdered, Harry. And then there is Igor Karkaroff. The international vizarding law enforcement squad has not found him, despite many efforts. I hear things, from Durmstrang. Dark things - I vill not speak ov them now, not in the darkness. Please, do as I ask, Harry…"

"Well, yeah, of course!" replied Harry, troubled about Karkaroff. He had forgotten about him, with so many other things on his mind. What kind of trouble could he, would he make if Voldemort pulled him up short after his betrayal of the Death Eaters?

Headed back to Griffindor Tower, broomsticks slung over their shoulders, Ron turned to Harry. "So, what did Krum say to you?"

"He told me I was an excellent Seeker. And, um, he asked me to keep an eye on Hermione…"

"Oh he did, did he? Did you tell him that's what I'm here for?"

"Ron, remember what Sirius said, in his letter? I get the feeling that… well, maybe he had good reasons for saying it."

Ron stopped in his tracks, forgetting his jealousy. "Are you saying Hermione is in some kind of trouble?"

"I don't know. It's just, well, Sirius warned us to stick together, your mum asked us to watch out for the girls and now Viktor Krum is worried that Igor Karkaroff hasn't been taken into custody…"

Ron started walking again, quickening his pace. "I don't want to think about it. I just want to get back to the common room."

They climbed through the portal to find Neville and Ginny bent over a game of chess. Hermione was sitting on the couch, Hermes on her lap and Crookshanks lying beside her. Ron dropped his broom, scooped up the cat and replaced him on the sofa. "Everything okay here?"

"Yeah, but your sister is winning this chess game," said Neville, who didn't look too upset about it.

"How was practice?" asked Ginny, taking her eyes off the chessboard to look at Harry, who pulled up a chair next to Neville.

"Good," he replied. "Krum is an excellent coach. Too bad he can't be here full-time. He's loads better than Madam Hooch."

"I don't know. I think Hooch is just fine…" said Ron.

"Yeah, but she doesn't have Krum's field experience," said Fred, coming over to join them. "Krum's in the big leagues, he knows."

Ron brushed this off, focusing on the chess game. "Don't move that knight, Neville," he warned.

Ginny shot him an angry glance. Neville obligingly moved his rook instead. Hermione had noted Ron's reticence and determined, since her conversation with Ginny, to follow her heart. She leaned in and whispered in Ron's ear, "I can't wait to see you in your Quidditch robes!"

Encouraged by her attention, Ron put his arm around her and pulled her close. "I can't wait to see your Halloween costume - won't you tell me what you're going as?"

She shrugged. "I can't - Winky won't tell me!"

"Then I'll just have to look for the prettiest girl there…" he leaned in and kissed her, forgetting that they were surrounded by his family and friends.

"Geez, Ron, can't you two keep off each other for five minutes?" protested George, despite the fact that he had his own arm snugly draped around Alicia.

"Nope!" replied Ron, not even looking at him. "As far as I'm concerned, Hermione and I're the only ones here!"

George rolled his eyes at this. "Whoo boy! And you're worried about Harry! You keep this up and you'll be watching for Hermione in the spectator stands when you should be watching for the Quaffle!"

Katie Bell joined them and tutted. "Give it a rest, boys. No need to imply that love gets in the way of good sportsmanship!"

"Oh yeah?" Fred rounded on her. "What about you and Percy, eh? I heard he's got season tickets and it's not to see us!"

Katie sniffed at him as she made her way up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. "Not my fault he likes Quidditch, or me, for that matter!"

Ron and Ginny exchanged a surprise glance. "Percy and Katie? What happened to that Ravenclaw, Penelope Clearwater?"

George shook his head. "Ancient history, bro. Harry's the only defector from the Griffindor camp now…"

Harry turned blissfully red. "Yup, she's an excellent Seeker, that Cho!"

"Just be sure you're more excellent," warned Alicia meaningfully.

Professor McGonagall, who stood at the portal, interrupted them. "I need to have a word with you, Neville. Can you join me, please?"

Casting a clueless look at his friends, Neville climbed through the portal and followed Professor McGonagall as she led them toward the office of Albus Dumbledore. She smiled reassuringly at him and said, "Don't look so worried, Neville. Professor Dumbledore would like you to accompany him on a trip to London this evening."

Neville's eyes flew wide. "To London? Me? What for?"

She put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "To visit St. Mungos, Neville. Professor Dumbledore is going to pay your parents a visit, and he'd like you to come along."

"My… my parents?" Neville was stunned and not entirely pleased. "Why would he go to see them? They… they don't… see people very well…"

"I think tonight may be different, dear. Come along, Professor Dumbledore is waiting."

Professor McGonagall ushered him in to the office of Hogwarts' headmaster, who was seated behind his desk. He was in deep conversation with a head floating eerily in the green flames of his fireplace. Neville recognized the head as that of Arthur Weasley. The head nodded in his direction and Dumbledore turned to face them. "Ah, Neville. Thank you, Minerva. Be a dear and bring Snape up, will you? I'd like you both here when we return."

"Of course, sir." She patted Neville on his shoulder as she left, as if to reassure him. He was well beyond that at this point.

"Thank you, Arthur, for all your hard work. See if Perkins can run down the details from Alastor, and check with Mafalda Hopkirk. They may have some reports on file with the Improper Use of Magic."

"Will do, Albus. Take care this evening, I'm not sure what…"

"Yes, yes, we'll see about that then. My best to Molly!"

Arthur Weasley's face disappeared, leaving only tall green flames leaping in Dumbledore's hearth. "Ah, Neville. So glad you'll be joining me tonight. Minerva has told you about our little expedition?"

Neville swallowed hard. "Sir, you can't really mean to… visit my parents, can you? They… well, you know they don't ever…"

Dumbledore stood and patted Neville on the head. "Yes, Neville, I am aware of their condition. However, I have reason to believe we may find things a bit different tonight, and if that is the case, you would like to see them, wouldn't you?"

Neville felt tears burning in his eyes and he valiantly fought them. "Yes, sir, I would, very much, but…"

"Well, then, let's be off! I want to get you back to Griffindor Tower before the hour is out, as it is late. Come then, take this floo powder and jump in!" he smiled, indicating the fireplace.


Neville did as he was told and heard Dumbledore say distinctly, "St. Mungos!" Traveling by floo powder was never one of Neville's favorite modes of transportation. As emerald green flames leaped around him, he could see faces and hearths whizzing before him as the roaring in his ears grew louder and louder until, with a sickening suddenness all was silent and he fell onto his hands and knees, in the parlor of St. Mungos Hospital.

Neville had no sooner picked himself up off the floor when Dumbledore himself arrived. He hid behind Dumbledore's robe as they approached a white robed nurse who was seated with her two charges, both garbed in blue St. Mungos gowns. The man, a taller version of Neville, stared at his slippered feet, mumbling slightly. The woman was beautiful, with raven black hair shot through with a white bolt across her part. Neville's gran told him she had acquired this in her fearful encounter with the junior Crouch, and he silently cursed that miscreant's soul, wherever it may be. His mother stared at her hands folded demurely in her lap.

Neville continued to hide, unwilling to see or be seen by his parents. Gently, Albus Dumbledore drew him forward and took a seat across from the Longbottoms. He kept a reassuring hand on Neville's shoulder as he greeted them. "Hello Roderick, Amadahlia. How are you this evening?"

"We've had a restless day, sir," began the nurse, but Albus held up a hand to quiet her. "Neville and I have come a long way for this visit. We'd like to talk for a few moments, Madam Merci. Perhaps you could bring the young lad a pumpkin juice?"

The nurse rose but seemed reluctant to leave the room. "We'll be quite all right, I assure you."

As soon as she had quit the room, Albus reached into his robes and withdrew a small wand, which looked like a wee flashlight. He knelt gently before Roderick Longbottom and shone the tiny light directly into his staring eyeball. Neville clenched his fists and rose to stand behind Dumbledore. "Professor, please… don't hurt him…"

"Don't worry, Neville. This is an optiscope. It's the best I can do to get past the illness that has so foully taken your parents from us. It has limited effectiveness, but I believe it may serve for the present."

He turned his attention back to Neville's father, whose expression defined the term 'blank'. "Roderick," he began. "It's Albus Dumbledore. Can you understand me?"

"Yes," came a hoarse voice. Neville shut his eyes tightly and sank back into his chair.

"Roderick, I need to know. You were at Lewes; you alluded to something you found there in your report. What did you find at Lewes? Can you remember?"

"Lewes. So long ago, Albus, so long ago…"

"You were going to file an Auror's report, Roderick. You found something there, something at Lewes. Can you remember?"

"Port town, white cliffs, yes, Lewes. Hospital there…" Roderick put his hands on either side of his head as if to keep it from bursting. "The key, the final piece…"

Neville watched, tears of agony streaking his face, as his father's head slumped forward upon his chest with a great shudder. Roderick Longbottom was gone, once again, mumbling about "brillig and slithy toves."

Albus himself heaved a large sigh, then sat beside Neville's mother to shine the optiscope into her enormous blue eyes. "Amadahlia, can you hear me?"

Her voice was light and remote, as if she was speaking to them from a great distance. "Yes, I hear you, Albus."

"What do you mean, the final piece, Amadahlia? What did you find at Lewes?"

"A hospital... yes, there is a hospital there… not like St. Mungos, a Muggle hospital… a woman died. There was a baby…"

For one heartbreaking moment, she looked directly at her son. Tears welled in her lovely eyes as she said, "My baby, my own Neville… my precious baby - can it be you? So big now…" Then she, like her husband before her, was gone, shivering and putting her head wearily on the arm of the sofa.

"Mum!" cried Neville, falling to his knees before her and weeping into her lap. "Oh, Mum…"

Albus gently hugged the shaking boy as Madam Merci reappeared with a pumpkin juice for him. "What has happened?" she asked, paling at the sight of Neville's tear-streaked face.

"Don't be alarmed, Madam. It is quiet difficult for the boy, as you can imagine. Might I have a private word? You'll be allright for a moment, Neville?"

Neville nodded silently and sipped his pumpkin juice, never taking his eyes off his mother.

Dumbledore stepped out of the parlor with the nurse, closing the oaken door quietly behind him. "Madam Merci, I will be brief as the hour is late. I understand that Lucius Malfoy has donated a great deal of money to this establishment. Might I ask, exactly, how his funds are being employed?"

"Oh, sir, he's been an angel of mercy to those two unfortunates!" responded the witch, with a tear in her eye. "Thanks to him, all their care is provided for!" She lowered her voice. "I think it's because Lucius feels so terrible, for the awful life he lived while he was under the sway of… you-know-who…"

"Indeed. Thank you, Madam Merci. You have been most helpful."

He returned with her to the parlor, where Neville was still holding his mother's limp hand. "Come along, Neville. We must return to Hogwarts. You'll see your parents soon, I promise."

He sent Neville, via floo powder, back to his office. Before he stepped into the fireplace, he turned once more to the nurse. "I would be grateful if you kept this visit between us, Madam Merci. No sense troubling Neville's grandmother." Or Lucius Malfoy, thought Dumbledore grimly.

"Of course, sir. I understand."

Neville was sitting on a low chair before the hearth when Dumbledore returned to his office fireplace. Minerva McGonagall had wrapped a thick woolen blanket about his shoulders and Severus Snape was giving him a draft of a warm amber liquid. "Drink this down, Neville, there's a good lad."

Dumbledore sat down wearily across from Neville. Snape held up his decanter questioningly but Dumbledore declined. "Not yet, Severus. Minerva, will you return Neville to Griffindor Tower? He has had a long day, I'm afraid."

Before he left with Professor McGonagall, Neville turned to Dumbledore. "She knew me, just for a moment, didn't she, Professor?"

"Yes, Neville. She certainly did."

As soon as the pair had quit his office, Dumbledore turned grimly to Snape. "We have serious matters to discuss, my friend."

To be continued, of course…