AN: Yes, Neville gets a turn to put his learning to good use.
Chapter 15. A Turn for the Understudy
Once they had returned to the main part of the hospital, Neville, after thinking awhile and asking for Hermione's help with the floor plan, was able to direct them to his mother's room in the mental wing. On the way, they detoured to an examining room at Ron's request. "There's something I need to get," he said, but he didn't tell them what it was. He was in and out in just a minute, and he reappeared empty-handed. "All set," he said with satisfaction.
When they arrived at Aurelle Longbottom's room, the door was unlocked, and Harry opened it a crack and peered in. "There's a nurse on duty," he whispered to the others.
"We'd better get rid of her," Ron whispered back. "Leave it to me." Harry and Neville watched from under the Invisibility Cloak as Ron strode confidently into the room and said to the plump young woman sitting at the bedside, "Nurse—er"—he glanced at her name tag—"Nurse Colleen, I have orders from Dr. Leech to bleed the patient. Could you give me a hand?" Ron produced a handful of squirming, slimy creatures—leeches, in fact.
Nurse Colleen put a hand to her mouth to muffle a shriek. She got up from her chair and began backing away slowly. "Saints preserve us … It's sorry I am," she whimpered, "but leeches are the one thing I can't stand. Anything else—bed baths—bedpans—vital signs—spoon feeding—but not …" her voice trailed off in a squeak.
"I was hoping you would let me test one of them on you to make sure it works properly," said Ron with a hint of disappointment.
Nurse Colleen shook her head emphatically, taking another step back.
"Well then, perhaps you can tell me what medications Mrs. Longbottom has received in the last twelve hours?"
"It—it should be on the chart," she stuttered, but couldn't bring herself to come near enough to consult it. Ron picked up the parchment chart hanging on the rail at the foot of the bed, and dropped a leech on it accidentally on purpose. "Oh, how careless of me," he said, shaking the leech off the page into his other hand with the rest of them. "Look what I've done." The chart was all slimy and soggy and smeared into illegibility.
"Don't you be worrying about that," Nurse Colleen exclaimed, seeing an opening for escape. "I'll go and get a new one and fill it out right away."
"Oh, that's not necessary," said Ron, letting her snatch the chart out of his hand.
"Certainly it is," she said, moving toward the door. "And it's no trouble at all. If you'll just fill in for me with Mrs. Longbottom while I'm gone."
"Well, if you're sure …" said Ron.
"Not a bit of a problem," she said, and left the room.
"Take as much time as you need," Ron called after her.
Nurse Colleen hardly spared a glance at Ivy and Hemione as she walked by with the chart on her way to the nursing station down the corridor. When she got there she had recovered her composure and they heard her giggling with the other nurses about the butter-fingered medical students. "That was almost too easy," said Harry. "We'd better not lock the door, but we need a lookout. Hermione, will you watch at the door and warn us if anyone looks like they're coming in?"
Hermione nodded. "I'll just replace some of these candles while I'm waiting," she said, pointing to a nearby candleholder on the corridor wall. "The nurses can tell me where to get them."
Harry, Neville, and Ivy joined Ron in Aurelle Longbottom's room. Ivy closed the door, but didn't lock it. The room held a second bed, made up but empty. Four chairs, two nightstands, and a chest of drawers completed the furnishings. A door led to an adjoining bathroom. Harry pulled out the painting Ivy had appropriated and leaned it against the wall.
Harry hadn't seen Neville's mother since the second time he had visited the hospital. She seemed as unreachable to him now as she had then, and if anything, even more delicate. Scattered grey strands lightened her dark curly hair.
Ivy seated herself in the bedside chair and took the woman's hand without hesitation. "Aurelle, it's me, Ivy," she said. "Severus' niece. I've done what you asked." She sat quietly, concentrating. "We've brought something to wake you up." After another moment Ivy looked at Harry, Ron, and Neville, and said, "She's ready, but it may not be easy for her."
Neville handed her the potion bottle and goblet he carried. Ivy carefully poured a dose and held the goblet of potion near Aurelle's face. The unconscious woman's chest rose as she took a breath, and the scent seemed to rouse her slightly from her sleep. Her head turned and her lips parted a little. Neville raised her head a bit and Ivy touched her lips with the goblet. When she tasted the potion, Aurelle stirred and murmured, "No—please—not this time, Lucius. Help me. Let me … let me …"
"Mum, it's just us. It's me, Neville. We're trying to wake you up," Neville told her.
Ivy gave her another sip and she grew more restless. "I'm trying … trying to come through …" She shuddered. "I don't know if I can … I keep getting lost in the dark … Please, Lucius, don't—the ground is shifting under me—I'm going to fall—"
"Lucius Malfoy is not here," Ivy reassured her.
"Not … here," echoed Aurelle. She accepted another mouthful of potion and her eyes opened, dilated and unseeing. "Lucius isn't here?" she asked anxiously.
"Lucius is not here," Harry repeated.
Ivy offered the potion again. After she had taken a bit more, Aurelle closed her eyes again and lay still for a moment, gathering her forces. "Where am I?" she asked.
"You're in your room at St. Mungo's, Mum," said Neville.
Aurelle's eyes opened again, this time with purpose behind them. She looked at Ivy, Neville, Harry, and Ron in turn. "Am I awake?" she asked.
"You're awake, Aurelle," said Ivy.
Aurelle reached for the goblet Ivy held and drank deeply from it. She sighed and said, "I've seen all of your faces in my dreams. I hoped you were real, but I wasn't sure."
"We're real, Mum," said Neville.
"I saw you, but I couldn't speak to you, though I tried," she went on. "Except for Octavius' child. You did as I asked, didn't you?" she appealed to Ivy.
"Yes," said Ivy. "That danger is past. Harry's wand is safe."
"But there's more danger coming … I can feel it getting closer," Aurelle whispered, shivering.
"We'll meet it," Ivy declared. "We know more about it now."
Aurelle's eyes turned to her son. "I was there," she said. "I was with Frank when he saw your face and knew you, Neville."
"I don't understand, Mum," said Neville. "Weren't you here, in this room?"
Aurelle smiled. "I don't need a Trempath to know what's going on in Frank's mind. I don't even have to be in the same room."
"You know what he's thinking right now?" Neville asked.
Her gaze turned inward. "Sometimes it's clearer than others," she replied, "especially when he feels something strongly … but it's more than that. I share in his suffering and his delusions. When he's confused, so am I."
"So one Curser works for both of you," said Harry.
"In a way," she agreed, "but it's still two against one. We fight the Curser together, and we're both still living. I know there are some who are surprised we haven't died yet. Considering how demented we are, you know."
"Excuse me, but you don't seem very insane to me, Mrs. Longbottom," said Ron.
"I got better," said Aurelle, with an almost mischievous look. "Enough that Lucius Malfoy had to put me to sleep. Lucius was one of the few people who didn't forget us. He kept visiting and his kindness seemed sincere. But I always had an untrustworthy feeling about him … Are you quite sure you're real?" she broke off to ask, searching each of their faces in turn.
"I was last time I checked," said Ron. "Can't speak for all of us."
"Of course we're real, Mum," said Neville forcefully. He took her hands and squeezed them. "You can feel that, can't you?"
"I keep thinking I'm talking to someone who's finally going to help us," Aurelle said, her voice trembling, "explaining everything, and then realizing it was all a dream, or a hallucination … It happens over and over again. I feel as if I'll never get to the end of it."
"You will, though," said Ivy. "We are real, even if Ron isn't convinced."
Aurelle went on, "But one thing I do know: Frank is getting stronger and clearer. I can feel it, and I know it because Lucius is angry. Before he went on holiday, he thought Frank was going to die soon; I heard him say it. He sounded pleased. Lucius tries to hide his true feelings, but even when I don't know anything else, I can see right through him. He saw that I knew he didn't want us to recover, and that was why he started dosing me into a coma. And he left instructions to make sure I stayed asleep while he was gone."
"With whom?" asked Harry.
Aurelle paused, looking uncertain. "I don't know. I never saw his face, but I know there was someone. Lucius didn't want me to say—or see—anything suspicious.."
"If anyone asked him, I bet he'd say that he was just glad that Frank's suffering would be over," said Ivy.
"Oh, Lucius could always say the right words," said Aurelle. "He's very glib. But he couldn't hide how upset he was when he came back and saw that Frank had started to recover. Even in my sleep I could feel his rage and frustration. In my dreams he questioned me, over and over, asking me why, how could it be happening? Who was helping him? Sometimes he turned into a wolf and savaged me with his teeth and claws."
"But didn't Mr. Malfoy know that Harry was the one helping him?" asked Neville.
"Not at first. Frank begged Dr. Leech not to tell Lucius, and Dr. Leech humoured him, even if he did think it just a sick man's whim. But Lucius must have kept on questioning people until he learned about Harry's visits."
"It can't have taken him very long," said Ron. "Ivy stole Harry's wand the night after Mr. Malfoy noticed that things weren't going his way."
"This hasn't been easy for you, has it, Ivy?" said Aurelle.
"I hope I didn't put you in too difficult a position."
"It's been a bit sticky," Ivy confessed, "but I'm used to that."
"Mum, Ivy's got the right stuff," Neville told his mother. "She knows how to take it on the chin and still carry on." Ivy's usually pale face turned faintly pink at Neville's words.
"And Harry, I know what you've been through for Frank's sake."
"It's hardly anything," Harry said, "compared to what—"
"What you've done for him can't be measured," she interrupted him gently. "You promised to come back and you kept your word. You believed what he told you. Such a simple thing, yet nobody else could manage it."
"It wasn't especially clever of me," said Harry. "I just happened to know that Peter Pettigrew was still alive."
Aurelle closed her eyes and drew a breath. "I remember when Cornelius Fudge came himself to tell me that young Barty Crouch had died in Azkaban. He thought I would feel better knowing that Barty was dead. But I was terribly upset. It was too late to undo the injustice that had been done to him, and at the thought of it I broke down and cried. Fudge must have thought he had set me off just by mentioning Barty's name. For a long time after that I didn't have the heart to eat anything."
"Aurelle," said Harry, "You probably haven't heard this, but young Barty Crouch isn't dead after all."
Aurelle caught Harry's hand and looked in his eyes. "Barty's not dead? Are you quite certain? How is it possible?"
"I saw him myself. It was his mother who died in Azkaban in his place, all those years ago. But his soul was taken by a dementor last year."
"The Dementor's Kiss," she whispered. "Worse than death. For a moment I thought that perhaps something could be done for him."
"But he doesn't deserve to have anything done for him," Ron objected. "He worked for You-Know-Who. He murdered his father. He tried to torture you."
"Then he has all the more need for justice," said Aurelle. "He has never had a fair trial. If anyone needs his soul back, Barty does."
"You say that like a true Hufflepuff, Mum," said Neville. "Gran told me you were a Hufflepuff at Hogwarts."
"I was," she said, smiling as she remembered. "And what House are you in, Neville?"
"I'm a Gryffindor," he said with pride.
"Like your father," she told him. "Neville, I want you to remember something very important. Frank has always faced life like a Gryffindor. He knew how dangerous it was to work as an Auror, and he accepted the risks. He stood up to the worst that Pettigrew could do to him …" This time her memories gave her pain and she began to weep. "And ever since then …"
"Mum, it's all right," said Neville awkwardly. "I wouldn't forget a thing like that, not about my Dad."
"Of course you wouldn't," she sniffled. Ivy handed her a handkerchief.
"Look," said Ron. "Why don't we make a list of everyone who's been especially brave, so we can hand out the medals? Neville's Dad comes first. Then there's Harry of course, and Ivy—I practically twisted her arm off last week—and don't forget Neville: he told Professor Snape where to get off, and we all know how scared he is of Snape …"
"And Uncle Severus," Ivy reminded him.
"Whatever," said Ron.
"Severus still doesn't know what he's done for us," said Aurelle.
"Neither do we, exactly," said Ron.
Aurelle suddenly lost all her colour. "Lucius," she cried, "Lucius is here! You mustn't be seen with me!" And a moment later Hermione rushed into the room, looking as white as Aurelle.
"Mr. Malfoy is coming down the hall! Quick, hide! The other bed." The five interlopers piled onto the empty bed and Harry pulled his cloak over all of them, making sure the side of them facing the door was completely covered, and hoping that nobody would sit down on them. Perhaps they should hide under the bed instead—but it was too late.
When Lucius Malfoy swept in, looking assured and impeccable in night-blue robes with silver accents that set off his mane of platinum hair, Aurelle had closed her eyes and was breathing slowly and deeply, feigning the drugged sleep he had forced on her. Crouched on the other bed, the unseen watchers hardly dared to breathe, but breathing was difficult anyway.
Lucius glanced around the room, and finding it empty of hospital staff and other inconvenient witnesses, as he thought, took a key from his robes, turned back, and locked the door from the inside. Then he approached the bed and looked down at Aurelle for a moment. He picked up her arm, which she carefully kept limp and unresisting, and took her pulse. He frowned. "Faster than it should be," he murmured. He put a hand on her forehead, then drew one of her eyelids open, not very gently, and she couldn't help pulling away. Lucius shook his head, clearly dissatisfied. He produced a stoppered glass bottle and a goblet from his robes, and poured a dose with great deliberation. He stowed the bottle away again.
But when he tried to administer the potion to Aurelle, she opened her eyes and grasped his arm. "No more. I don't want to sleep any more, Lucius," she whispered.
Lucius Malfoy dropped the goblet in astonishment, spilling its contents on the blanket. He took a moment to recover himself, then said gently, "Aurelle, my dear, I'm afraid it's necessary. You're very ill and this remedy is the only thing that will help you."
"Perhaps I'm not … quite as ill as you think."
Lucius measured out another dose from the bottle he carried. "You let me be the judge of that, Aurelle. Try to relax and not worry. We're taking care of everything." Still she turned her head away, avoiding the proffered goblet. The knowledge that her allies were secretly watching gave Aurelle unaccustomed strength, and she put up a determined resistance. "Don't fight me, Aurelle," Lucius urged her. "You'll only make it harder for yourself." He finally succeeded in directing some of the potion into her mouth, but she spat it out across his sleeve. His patience at an end, Lucius raised his arm and made to strike her into submission with a backhand blow to the face. Aurelle looked up at him, unflinching and unafraid. "Don't do this, Lucius," she said. "You'll be found out."
Lucius Malfoy gave a snort of laughter and lowered his arm. "'Found out'?" he repeated, as if he found the idea quaintly melodramatic.
"Frank will know," she told him confidently. "He always does."
Malfoy looked at her with pity. "My poor Aurelle," he said, "You are deluded. Frank knows nothing. His mind is completely gone. And even if it wasn't, who would believe his ranting?"
Under the Invisibility Cloak, Harry felt a sharp pain in his knuckles and became aware that Neville's hand was crushing his own. It dawned on him that Neville wasn't merely upset; he was screwing himself up for action. "Let me," Harry whispered, but Neville shook his head, looking determined and breathing hard.
At least Harry could offer a bit of advice. He whispered in Neville's ear, "Door first," and Neville, after looking at him blankly for a moment, nodded in understanding. He slid out from under the cloak, trying not to let the bed creak, and moved as quietly as possible to the door, to make it look as if he had just entered.
Neville pulled out his wand and demanded, "What are you doing to my Mum?"
The rest of the second dose of potion joined the first on Aurelle's blanket as Lucius Malfoy turned abruptly. "How did you get through that door?" he demanded in turn, looking irate.
Neville considered the question. "Oh … well … er… I have my ways," he fumbled for a properly cavalier reply. "What are you doing to my Mum?" he repeated, returning to the main point.
"Your … Mum?" Lucius inquired. "Oh, you must be the Longbottom child." He made Neville sound like an infant.
"Yes, I'm Neville Longbottom, and you must be Mr. Malfoy." Harry could have sworn he almost added, /Pleased to meet you./
"I'm afraid visiting hours are over, my boy," Lucius Malfoy said a shade impatiently. "You and your grandmother had best be on your way."
Neville looked as if he were about to apologize and leave, but he steeled himself and reiterated, "Not until—I asked you what you're doing to my Mum."
"And I asked you how you got through that door, boy," Draco's father snapped.
"Wouldn't you like to know … sir," Neville quavered, defiance still warring with politeness.
Lucius's manner suddenly changed and he dripped oily sympathy. "All of this must be very hard for you, young Longbottom. Seeing your parents so deranged, year after year. Knowing they're beyond help. It's no wonder you're overwrought."
You'll never get a straight answer at this rate, thought Harry. To his relief, Neville took a more direct tack. "I saw you threaten to hit my Mum when she wouldn't take your potion," he accused.
Lucius Malfoy poured a third dose for Aurelle, shaking his head. "You must be mistaken, young Longbottom," he contradicted smoothly. "I'm only trying to help your mother."
"It's no use, Lucius," said Aurelle. "Neville knows."
"I saw you, sir," Neville insisted.
"But her mind is so damaged that she sees even her helpers as enemies," the man went on sadly, as if neither of them had spoken. He held the goblet to her lips, but she twisted her head away. "Come, Aurelle. Let me give you your medicine so you can get the rest you need." It was clear that Lucius badly wanted to shut her up before she said any more.
"I don't need more rest," Aurelle protested. "Please. I'm sick of resting."
Neville pointed his wand at Lucius. "Stop it now," he ordered. "Don't make her drink it." His hand shook so hard that Harry wondered if he were about to drop the wand. Harry was beginning to realize that Neville had one definite advantage over the famous Potter in this situation: he was easy to underestimate. He looked anything but imposing. Lucius Malfoy was not on his guard; hadn't even reached for his own wand.
"Or you'll do what?" jeered Lucius. "Will it be Cruciatus or Imperius, boy? I know how distraught you must be, but I haven't got time for this." He reached over, pinched Aurelle's nose shut between his finger and thumb, and held the goblet to her mouth again.
There was only one thing for Neville to do, and he did it.
"/T-t-titillo!/" he exclaimed, and Lucius spilled the third dose of potion as he doubled over with helpless laughter. Neville was laughing too, but he managed to keep his wand pointed at Lucius until the man dropped the goblet and staggered, clutching the bed rail for support. When Neville lifted the charm, the laughter in Lucius' face gave way a look of hatred. He pulled out his own wand.
"/Expelliarmus,/" he said almost casually, and caught Neville's wand expertly as it sailed toward him, tucking it into his robes. His scornful smile returned and he looked cool and poised again, except for his quickened breathing. "Not a bad try, young Longbottom, but you've still got a great deal to learn about dueling."
"You can't do that to my Mum anymore," Neville replied obstinately. "I won't let you."
"But my dear boy," Lucius said softly, "I have your wand. How are you going to stop me?"
"I have my ways," Neville said again, this time with more confidence. Lucius held the upper hand again for the moment, but he seemed reluctant to force matters by getting out his potion bottle again. Neville had definitely scored.
Harry caught an impression of movement out of the corner of his eye. Octavius Snape had found his way into the painting they had brought in, which Lucius Malfoy had not yet noticed. Octavius took in the situation at a glance. Moving slowly and quietly, he bent over the table and wrote something on a bit of parchment. Before leaving the painting, he propped the note against the flower vase so it would be visible to observers: "Help on the way. O. S." Then he was gone.
Harry wondered if he and his companions could keep things from coming to a head again before Octavius arrived with reinforcements. But after all, why should they? Even with Neville disarmed, they were still four against one, and still held the advantage of surprise.
The situation was delicate. None of them were supposed to be there. If they revealed themselves, at any moment someone else might show up who trusted Lucius Malfoy and would take his side against a gang of truants from Hogwarts with admittedly flimsy disguises. In that case, however, Lucius would have to behave himself and at least pretend to be well-intentioned. This fact might protect Aurelle for the time being, but not in the long run, and certainly not the rest of them. And if by any chance they did manage to overpower Lucius Malfoy before anyone else arrived, when events came to light it would be his word against theirs, with even more hot water waiting for them at the end of it. As far as Harry was concerned, a basilisk or a Hungarian Horntail would be much simpler to deal with.
"I think perhaps you had better go, boy," said Lucius Malfoy to Neville, "before this little charade goes any further … against you."
"I can't, sir," said Neville.
"Why ever not?" Lucius demanded.
"You have my wand. And the door is locked."
"He has you there, Lucius," Aurelle couldn't resist remarking. /Ron, don't you dare laugh,/ thought Harry. Malfoy's lips thinned with irritation and he raised a hand, clenched it, and lowered it again. He strode over to the door, used his key to unlock it, and stood with his hand on the knob, waiting for Neville to leave.
"May I have my wand back, sir?" Neville asked, staying where he was.
"I think not," said Lucius. "I'll keep it for you, at least for a while."
"But, Mr. Malfoy, I'll get into the most awful trouble at school if I don't have it," said Neville in a worried voice. "If I tell them you took it nobody will believe me."
Good, thought Harry. He's stalling for time.
"Lucius, I'll thank you to return my son's wand to him," said Aurelle.
"I'll send it back to Hogwarts in a day or two, Aurelle," said Lucius. "The boy needs a lesson in respect for his betters."
"No, he doesn't, Lucius," she told him, holding his gaze until he looked away, reddening slightly. His eyes narrowed as, again, his patience reached an end. He grasped Neville by the arm and started to steer him to the door.
Neville resisted. "I'm not leaving, sir," he declared.
"I think you'll find that you are leaving, boy," said Lucius through his teeth, completely exasperated. Neville was naturally not strong enough to stop Lucius from dragging him out the door by force, but he was doing his best to make it difficult. Pulling against Lucius' powerful grip, he managed to trip over his own feet and fall flat on the floor. Way to go, Neville! the hidden watchers cheered silently. He almost succeeded in pulling Lucius down with him, but the man grasped the back of a chair and recovered his balance.
"Get up, boy," snarled Lucius, tugging.
"Yes, sir," said Neville, but for some reason his feet kept sliding out from under him every time he tried to rise. A puddle of spilled potion, perhaps. Lucius, his nostrils flaring dangerously, reached for his wand.
Harry was through with letting things take their own course. Without giving Lucius a chance to decide which spell would give him the effect he wanted, Harry threw off his Invisibility Cloak, pulled out his wand, pointed it at Lucius, and shouted, "/Aquafrigida!/"
Caught completely by surprise, Lucius Malfoy let go of Neville's arm and shielded his own face from the icy blast. He did not, however, drop his wand. Drat. But Ron also emerged from hiding, and with another "Aquafrigida!" directed a second bone-chilling spray of water at Lucius' wand hand. This did the trick. Ivy whisked over and pounced on the dropped wand before it could roll under Aurelle's bed. When she had moved safely out of the way, Ivy pointed her wand at Lucius and said, "/Accio wand!/" before he could put a hand on Neville's wand himself. She plucked it out of the air as it flew toward her, and held it out for Neville to take. Finally, Harry and Ron stopped soaking their classmate's father and Hermione quickly dried him off.
Lucius Malfoy glared at all of them. "I should have guessed that Potter would be at the bottom of this," he hissed. "And his loathsome little friends." (Ron was as tall as he was, and still bearded.) "But I wasn't aware that you kept such low company, Miss Parkinson," he added in a tone of reproachful surprise. "And I will thank you to return my wand to me, young lady."
"I think not," said Ivy coolly. "I'll send it back in a day or two, Mr. Malfoy."
"How dare you address me in that insolent fashion? The Head of your House at Hogwarts will hear about this, girl," Lucius warned her.
At this, Ivy smiled. "Oh, I do hope so," she said. "Speaking of whom—look, here he is now."
The door had opened and two black-haired, black-eyed wizards appeared—Octavius and Severus Snape. Octavius was taller and broader than his brother, and in person, even more than in a painting, gave the impression of a wizard to be reckoned with.
"Well, Lucius," said Octavius pleasantly, "it's been a long time."
"Severus. Octavius. You don't often have business here," said Lucius rather formally. It was more than half a question.
"We do tonight, Lucius," said Professor Snape shortly.
"We wanted to see how the Longbottoms are doing," said Octavius. "I've heard that Frank has taken a turn for the better."
"But visiting hours are over, gentlemen," Lucius pointed out, as he had to Neville.
"You appear to be visiting, Lucius," Professor Snape noted.
"I am employed here," Lucius replied.
"But not in a medical capacity," said Octavius. "Your position doesn't give you the run of the hospital as far as I know."
Lucius shrugged. "Certain connections come with certain privileges, as you well know, Octavius. And I have taken an interest in the plight of the Longbottoms for a number of years."
"That's why they're still here," muttered Ron under his breath.
"And these young people," Octavius gestured to the five Hogwarts students. "Are they visiting as well?"
"These—these young people," Lucius almost sputtered, "are here without permission—skulking and spying—they have behaved abominably and with an utter lack of respect—and Miss Parkinson refuses to return my wand to me!" He realized that his dignity was getting away from him and took a fresh grip on it.
Ivy looked a question at her father, and he gave a small nod. "Oh, pardon me, did you want your wand back, sir? Here it is," said Ivy, handing it over. Lucius took it without a word and put it away.
Octavius stood in silence for a moment, watching the room and the people in it. When he looked at Aurelle, he saw that her eyes were open and went over to her.
"Aurelle," he said. "You're awake."
"Am I, Octavius?" she asked, stretching out a hand to him. "Is it really you?"
"Yes to both questions," he answered, pressing her fingers to reassure her. "My dear, it won't be much longer now. The nightmare is almost over."
"Your young Ivy said nearly the same thing to me," said Aurelle. "I'm afraid to believe it. How can you be sure, Octavius?"
"I think you sense it yourself, Aurelle."
"I might—but I've been so confused. I don't trust my senses anymore."
"But, Mrs. Longbottom, you knew when Lucius Malfoy was coming," Ron reminded her.
"Oh, that's easy enough," she dismissed his point. "I can smell him a mile away."
Lucius looked as if he wanted to say something, but settled on appearing resigned to the shocking rudeness of mental patients.
"Just don't give up hope, Aurelle," urged Octavius.
"Not while you're here, my old friend," she promised.
Octavius turned back to Malfoy. "Well, Lucius, everything seems to be in order here, except for a bit of spilled liquid, which I am sure the staff will remove as soon as they're made aware of it. The patient is showing welcome signs of rationality. The room is undisturbed and you appear to be quite unscathed. What seems to be the problem?"
"These—they—" Lucius began, apparently at a loss to explain how the Hogwarts delegation had caught him abusing the patient and succeeded in putting a stop to it.
"Perhaps one of the students could explain," Professor Snape suggested, giving them a hard look and taking in the hospital uniforms, name tags, and facial hair.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Ivy glanced at each other and shifted their feet.
"Well, you see, sir," began Harry.
"We wanted to see my Mum," Neville chimed in, "so we were talking to her, and Mr. Malfoy came in and she told us to hide, and he tried to make her drink something she didn't want, and he was going to smack her one and so we used some spells that Professor Snape taught us."
"I see," said Octavius with just a hint of doubt.
"Ah," said Professor Snape with a glint of satisfaction, even approval, as he looked at Neville. "My students may turn out a credit to my teaching after all."
"Young Longbottom seems to be under the mistaken impression that I was mistreating his mother," Lucius protested, "when I was only trying to help her."
"I saw you, sir," Neville repeated obstinately.
"I'm not responsible for what you thought you saw, boy," Lucius snapped.
"We all saw you, Mr. Malfoy," said Ron. "You threatened to hit her. It was obvious." Harry, Ivy, and Hermione nodded in confirmation.
"The evidence appears to be against you, Lucius," stated Professor Snape.
"Appearances can be misleading," said Lucius, "particularly when patients don't know what's good for them. But why would you take their word against mine? These students are here with no authorization and in violation of several hospital rules. Clearly they are playing some sort of juvenile prank. Why are they not being questioned?"
"I have already inquired into their activities," said Octavius, "and I am satisfied that their business here is legitimate."
"So you're satisfied, are you, Octavius?" Lucius commented. "You seem to think that your word is law, when actually you have no authority in this situation."
"But as a Hogwarts professor, I do have it, Lucius," said Professor Snape, "and I have my own reasons for agreeing with Octavius."
Lucius Malfoy paused and looked from the older brother to the younger, the two of them siding together against him, and chuckled quietly as if at some old memory. "You make an interesting pair, you Snapes," he said. "You could have been great if you had stayed with me, Severus. You made a promising start. But you lost your resolve and turned back, and look at you now. A schoolmaster, a potion peddler, kept on at Hogwarts because old Dumbledore has a soft spot in his heart for you." Professor Snape glared at him with wordless loathing.
"The path you wanted Severus to follow would have meant disaster for him, Lucius," Octavius argued. "You always liked having other wizards in thrall to you."
"And you, Octavius," Lucius went on. "Imagine how influential you might have become, if you hadn't been wasting your time with crackpot schemes and empty philosophy in that ivory tower of yours. I suppose you think you'll come down and enlighten us all someday." But Octavius merely smiled.
Ivy crossed the room and stood next to Octavius, facing Lucius Malfoy. "My father could have had his pick of posts at the Ministry of Magic, but he refused them all. He has better things to do than answer to the likes of you, Mr. Malfoy," she flung at him.
"Ah yes," said Lucius silkily. "The noted author of such books as /Pitfalls of Magical Bureaucracy/. You wouldn't have had a long career at the Ministry with that title to your name. Your ideas are quite … quite unorthodox, Octavius."
"Precisely, Lucius," said Octavius composedly. "But I wasn't aware that you had actually read my work. I admit I'm flattered."
Malfoy looked uneasy, as if he were afraid that Octavius would start quizzing him on the book's contents then and there. He opened his mouth and closed it again.
"The Ministry wouldn't have let Father carry out his independent research on reversing the Dementor's Kiss, either," Ivy put in. Octavius looked at her in mild surprise and she added, "But I wasn't supposed to know about that."
"Indeed," Octavius agreed gravely. "But I suppose by now I should know better than to try to keep anything from you, daughter."
"Reversing the Dementor's Kiss? Total waste of time," scoffed Lucius.
"Many of those at the Ministry see it that way too," said Professor Snape.
"But it can't be done," Lucius objected.
"I have come to believe that it can," said Ivy's father.
"But surely you have no proof, Octavius."
"Not yet. But I am preparing a test."
During this exchange Aurelle beckoned Harry over to her. He moved close enough to hear her whisper, "Frank is coming."
**********************************
AN: I'm afraid this gets dreadfully talky, but there's stuff that needs explaining...
Chapter 15. A Turn for the Understudy
Once they had returned to the main part of the hospital, Neville, after thinking awhile and asking for Hermione's help with the floor plan, was able to direct them to his mother's room in the mental wing. On the way, they detoured to an examining room at Ron's request. "There's something I need to get," he said, but he didn't tell them what it was. He was in and out in just a minute, and he reappeared empty-handed. "All set," he said with satisfaction.
When they arrived at Aurelle Longbottom's room, the door was unlocked, and Harry opened it a crack and peered in. "There's a nurse on duty," he whispered to the others.
"We'd better get rid of her," Ron whispered back. "Leave it to me." Harry and Neville watched from under the Invisibility Cloak as Ron strode confidently into the room and said to the plump young woman sitting at the bedside, "Nurse—er"—he glanced at her name tag—"Nurse Colleen, I have orders from Dr. Leech to bleed the patient. Could you give me a hand?" Ron produced a handful of squirming, slimy creatures—leeches, in fact.
Nurse Colleen put a hand to her mouth to muffle a shriek. She got up from her chair and began backing away slowly. "Saints preserve us … It's sorry I am," she whimpered, "but leeches are the one thing I can't stand. Anything else—bed baths—bedpans—vital signs—spoon feeding—but not …" her voice trailed off in a squeak.
"I was hoping you would let me test one of them on you to make sure it works properly," said Ron with a hint of disappointment.
Nurse Colleen shook her head emphatically, taking another step back.
"Well then, perhaps you can tell me what medications Mrs. Longbottom has received in the last twelve hours?"
"It—it should be on the chart," she stuttered, but couldn't bring herself to come near enough to consult it. Ron picked up the parchment chart hanging on the rail at the foot of the bed, and dropped a leech on it accidentally on purpose. "Oh, how careless of me," he said, shaking the leech off the page into his other hand with the rest of them. "Look what I've done." The chart was all slimy and soggy and smeared into illegibility.
"Don't you be worrying about that," Nurse Colleen exclaimed, seeing an opening for escape. "I'll go and get a new one and fill it out right away."
"Oh, that's not necessary," said Ron, letting her snatch the chart out of his hand.
"Certainly it is," she said, moving toward the door. "And it's no trouble at all. If you'll just fill in for me with Mrs. Longbottom while I'm gone."
"Well, if you're sure …" said Ron.
"Not a bit of a problem," she said, and left the room.
"Take as much time as you need," Ron called after her.
Nurse Colleen hardly spared a glance at Ivy and Hemione as she walked by with the chart on her way to the nursing station down the corridor. When she got there she had recovered her composure and they heard her giggling with the other nurses about the butter-fingered medical students. "That was almost too easy," said Harry. "We'd better not lock the door, but we need a lookout. Hermione, will you watch at the door and warn us if anyone looks like they're coming in?"
Hermione nodded. "I'll just replace some of these candles while I'm waiting," she said, pointing to a nearby candleholder on the corridor wall. "The nurses can tell me where to get them."
Harry, Neville, and Ivy joined Ron in Aurelle Longbottom's room. Ivy closed the door, but didn't lock it. The room held a second bed, made up but empty. Four chairs, two nightstands, and a chest of drawers completed the furnishings. A door led to an adjoining bathroom. Harry pulled out the painting Ivy had appropriated and leaned it against the wall.
Harry hadn't seen Neville's mother since the second time he had visited the hospital. She seemed as unreachable to him now as she had then, and if anything, even more delicate. Scattered grey strands lightened her dark curly hair.
Ivy seated herself in the bedside chair and took the woman's hand without hesitation. "Aurelle, it's me, Ivy," she said. "Severus' niece. I've done what you asked." She sat quietly, concentrating. "We've brought something to wake you up." After another moment Ivy looked at Harry, Ron, and Neville, and said, "She's ready, but it may not be easy for her."
Neville handed her the potion bottle and goblet he carried. Ivy carefully poured a dose and held the goblet of potion near Aurelle's face. The unconscious woman's chest rose as she took a breath, and the scent seemed to rouse her slightly from her sleep. Her head turned and her lips parted a little. Neville raised her head a bit and Ivy touched her lips with the goblet. When she tasted the potion, Aurelle stirred and murmured, "No—please—not this time, Lucius. Help me. Let me … let me …"
"Mum, it's just us. It's me, Neville. We're trying to wake you up," Neville told her.
Ivy gave her another sip and she grew more restless. "I'm trying … trying to come through …" She shuddered. "I don't know if I can … I keep getting lost in the dark … Please, Lucius, don't—the ground is shifting under me—I'm going to fall—"
"Lucius Malfoy is not here," Ivy reassured her.
"Not … here," echoed Aurelle. She accepted another mouthful of potion and her eyes opened, dilated and unseeing. "Lucius isn't here?" she asked anxiously.
"Lucius is not here," Harry repeated.
Ivy offered the potion again. After she had taken a bit more, Aurelle closed her eyes again and lay still for a moment, gathering her forces. "Where am I?" she asked.
"You're in your room at St. Mungo's, Mum," said Neville.
Aurelle's eyes opened again, this time with purpose behind them. She looked at Ivy, Neville, Harry, and Ron in turn. "Am I awake?" she asked.
"You're awake, Aurelle," said Ivy.
Aurelle reached for the goblet Ivy held and drank deeply from it. She sighed and said, "I've seen all of your faces in my dreams. I hoped you were real, but I wasn't sure."
"We're real, Mum," said Neville.
"I saw you, but I couldn't speak to you, though I tried," she went on. "Except for Octavius' child. You did as I asked, didn't you?" she appealed to Ivy.
"Yes," said Ivy. "That danger is past. Harry's wand is safe."
"But there's more danger coming … I can feel it getting closer," Aurelle whispered, shivering.
"We'll meet it," Ivy declared. "We know more about it now."
Aurelle's eyes turned to her son. "I was there," she said. "I was with Frank when he saw your face and knew you, Neville."
"I don't understand, Mum," said Neville. "Weren't you here, in this room?"
Aurelle smiled. "I don't need a Trempath to know what's going on in Frank's mind. I don't even have to be in the same room."
"You know what he's thinking right now?" Neville asked.
Her gaze turned inward. "Sometimes it's clearer than others," she replied, "especially when he feels something strongly … but it's more than that. I share in his suffering and his delusions. When he's confused, so am I."
"So one Curser works for both of you," said Harry.
"In a way," she agreed, "but it's still two against one. We fight the Curser together, and we're both still living. I know there are some who are surprised we haven't died yet. Considering how demented we are, you know."
"Excuse me, but you don't seem very insane to me, Mrs. Longbottom," said Ron.
"I got better," said Aurelle, with an almost mischievous look. "Enough that Lucius Malfoy had to put me to sleep. Lucius was one of the few people who didn't forget us. He kept visiting and his kindness seemed sincere. But I always had an untrustworthy feeling about him … Are you quite sure you're real?" she broke off to ask, searching each of their faces in turn.
"I was last time I checked," said Ron. "Can't speak for all of us."
"Of course we're real, Mum," said Neville forcefully. He took her hands and squeezed them. "You can feel that, can't you?"
"I keep thinking I'm talking to someone who's finally going to help us," Aurelle said, her voice trembling, "explaining everything, and then realizing it was all a dream, or a hallucination … It happens over and over again. I feel as if I'll never get to the end of it."
"You will, though," said Ivy. "We are real, even if Ron isn't convinced."
Aurelle went on, "But one thing I do know: Frank is getting stronger and clearer. I can feel it, and I know it because Lucius is angry. Before he went on holiday, he thought Frank was going to die soon; I heard him say it. He sounded pleased. Lucius tries to hide his true feelings, but even when I don't know anything else, I can see right through him. He saw that I knew he didn't want us to recover, and that was why he started dosing me into a coma. And he left instructions to make sure I stayed asleep while he was gone."
"With whom?" asked Harry.
Aurelle paused, looking uncertain. "I don't know. I never saw his face, but I know there was someone. Lucius didn't want me to say—or see—anything suspicious.."
"If anyone asked him, I bet he'd say that he was just glad that Frank's suffering would be over," said Ivy.
"Oh, Lucius could always say the right words," said Aurelle. "He's very glib. But he couldn't hide how upset he was when he came back and saw that Frank had started to recover. Even in my sleep I could feel his rage and frustration. In my dreams he questioned me, over and over, asking me why, how could it be happening? Who was helping him? Sometimes he turned into a wolf and savaged me with his teeth and claws."
"But didn't Mr. Malfoy know that Harry was the one helping him?" asked Neville.
"Not at first. Frank begged Dr. Leech not to tell Lucius, and Dr. Leech humoured him, even if he did think it just a sick man's whim. But Lucius must have kept on questioning people until he learned about Harry's visits."
"It can't have taken him very long," said Ron. "Ivy stole Harry's wand the night after Mr. Malfoy noticed that things weren't going his way."
"This hasn't been easy for you, has it, Ivy?" said Aurelle.
"I hope I didn't put you in too difficult a position."
"It's been a bit sticky," Ivy confessed, "but I'm used to that."
"Mum, Ivy's got the right stuff," Neville told his mother. "She knows how to take it on the chin and still carry on." Ivy's usually pale face turned faintly pink at Neville's words.
"And Harry, I know what you've been through for Frank's sake."
"It's hardly anything," Harry said, "compared to what—"
"What you've done for him can't be measured," she interrupted him gently. "You promised to come back and you kept your word. You believed what he told you. Such a simple thing, yet nobody else could manage it."
"It wasn't especially clever of me," said Harry. "I just happened to know that Peter Pettigrew was still alive."
Aurelle closed her eyes and drew a breath. "I remember when Cornelius Fudge came himself to tell me that young Barty Crouch had died in Azkaban. He thought I would feel better knowing that Barty was dead. But I was terribly upset. It was too late to undo the injustice that had been done to him, and at the thought of it I broke down and cried. Fudge must have thought he had set me off just by mentioning Barty's name. For a long time after that I didn't have the heart to eat anything."
"Aurelle," said Harry, "You probably haven't heard this, but young Barty Crouch isn't dead after all."
Aurelle caught Harry's hand and looked in his eyes. "Barty's not dead? Are you quite certain? How is it possible?"
"I saw him myself. It was his mother who died in Azkaban in his place, all those years ago. But his soul was taken by a dementor last year."
"The Dementor's Kiss," she whispered. "Worse than death. For a moment I thought that perhaps something could be done for him."
"But he doesn't deserve to have anything done for him," Ron objected. "He worked for You-Know-Who. He murdered his father. He tried to torture you."
"Then he has all the more need for justice," said Aurelle. "He has never had a fair trial. If anyone needs his soul back, Barty does."
"You say that like a true Hufflepuff, Mum," said Neville. "Gran told me you were a Hufflepuff at Hogwarts."
"I was," she said, smiling as she remembered. "And what House are you in, Neville?"
"I'm a Gryffindor," he said with pride.
"Like your father," she told him. "Neville, I want you to remember something very important. Frank has always faced life like a Gryffindor. He knew how dangerous it was to work as an Auror, and he accepted the risks. He stood up to the worst that Pettigrew could do to him …" This time her memories gave her pain and she began to weep. "And ever since then …"
"Mum, it's all right," said Neville awkwardly. "I wouldn't forget a thing like that, not about my Dad."
"Of course you wouldn't," she sniffled. Ivy handed her a handkerchief.
"Look," said Ron. "Why don't we make a list of everyone who's been especially brave, so we can hand out the medals? Neville's Dad comes first. Then there's Harry of course, and Ivy—I practically twisted her arm off last week—and don't forget Neville: he told Professor Snape where to get off, and we all know how scared he is of Snape …"
"And Uncle Severus," Ivy reminded him.
"Whatever," said Ron.
"Severus still doesn't know what he's done for us," said Aurelle.
"Neither do we, exactly," said Ron.
Aurelle suddenly lost all her colour. "Lucius," she cried, "Lucius is here! You mustn't be seen with me!" And a moment later Hermione rushed into the room, looking as white as Aurelle.
"Mr. Malfoy is coming down the hall! Quick, hide! The other bed." The five interlopers piled onto the empty bed and Harry pulled his cloak over all of them, making sure the side of them facing the door was completely covered, and hoping that nobody would sit down on them. Perhaps they should hide under the bed instead—but it was too late.
When Lucius Malfoy swept in, looking assured and impeccable in night-blue robes with silver accents that set off his mane of platinum hair, Aurelle had closed her eyes and was breathing slowly and deeply, feigning the drugged sleep he had forced on her. Crouched on the other bed, the unseen watchers hardly dared to breathe, but breathing was difficult anyway.
Lucius glanced around the room, and finding it empty of hospital staff and other inconvenient witnesses, as he thought, took a key from his robes, turned back, and locked the door from the inside. Then he approached the bed and looked down at Aurelle for a moment. He picked up her arm, which she carefully kept limp and unresisting, and took her pulse. He frowned. "Faster than it should be," he murmured. He put a hand on her forehead, then drew one of her eyelids open, not very gently, and she couldn't help pulling away. Lucius shook his head, clearly dissatisfied. He produced a stoppered glass bottle and a goblet from his robes, and poured a dose with great deliberation. He stowed the bottle away again.
But when he tried to administer the potion to Aurelle, she opened her eyes and grasped his arm. "No more. I don't want to sleep any more, Lucius," she whispered.
Lucius Malfoy dropped the goblet in astonishment, spilling its contents on the blanket. He took a moment to recover himself, then said gently, "Aurelle, my dear, I'm afraid it's necessary. You're very ill and this remedy is the only thing that will help you."
"Perhaps I'm not … quite as ill as you think."
Lucius measured out another dose from the bottle he carried. "You let me be the judge of that, Aurelle. Try to relax and not worry. We're taking care of everything." Still she turned her head away, avoiding the proffered goblet. The knowledge that her allies were secretly watching gave Aurelle unaccustomed strength, and she put up a determined resistance. "Don't fight me, Aurelle," Lucius urged her. "You'll only make it harder for yourself." He finally succeeded in directing some of the potion into her mouth, but she spat it out across his sleeve. His patience at an end, Lucius raised his arm and made to strike her into submission with a backhand blow to the face. Aurelle looked up at him, unflinching and unafraid. "Don't do this, Lucius," she said. "You'll be found out."
Lucius Malfoy gave a snort of laughter and lowered his arm. "'Found out'?" he repeated, as if he found the idea quaintly melodramatic.
"Frank will know," she told him confidently. "He always does."
Malfoy looked at her with pity. "My poor Aurelle," he said, "You are deluded. Frank knows nothing. His mind is completely gone. And even if it wasn't, who would believe his ranting?"
Under the Invisibility Cloak, Harry felt a sharp pain in his knuckles and became aware that Neville's hand was crushing his own. It dawned on him that Neville wasn't merely upset; he was screwing himself up for action. "Let me," Harry whispered, but Neville shook his head, looking determined and breathing hard.
At least Harry could offer a bit of advice. He whispered in Neville's ear, "Door first," and Neville, after looking at him blankly for a moment, nodded in understanding. He slid out from under the cloak, trying not to let the bed creak, and moved as quietly as possible to the door, to make it look as if he had just entered.
Neville pulled out his wand and demanded, "What are you doing to my Mum?"
The rest of the second dose of potion joined the first on Aurelle's blanket as Lucius Malfoy turned abruptly. "How did you get through that door?" he demanded in turn, looking irate.
Neville considered the question. "Oh … well … er… I have my ways," he fumbled for a properly cavalier reply. "What are you doing to my Mum?" he repeated, returning to the main point.
"Your … Mum?" Lucius inquired. "Oh, you must be the Longbottom child." He made Neville sound like an infant.
"Yes, I'm Neville Longbottom, and you must be Mr. Malfoy." Harry could have sworn he almost added, /Pleased to meet you./
"I'm afraid visiting hours are over, my boy," Lucius Malfoy said a shade impatiently. "You and your grandmother had best be on your way."
Neville looked as if he were about to apologize and leave, but he steeled himself and reiterated, "Not until—I asked you what you're doing to my Mum."
"And I asked you how you got through that door, boy," Draco's father snapped.
"Wouldn't you like to know … sir," Neville quavered, defiance still warring with politeness.
Lucius's manner suddenly changed and he dripped oily sympathy. "All of this must be very hard for you, young Longbottom. Seeing your parents so deranged, year after year. Knowing they're beyond help. It's no wonder you're overwrought."
You'll never get a straight answer at this rate, thought Harry. To his relief, Neville took a more direct tack. "I saw you threaten to hit my Mum when she wouldn't take your potion," he accused.
Lucius Malfoy poured a third dose for Aurelle, shaking his head. "You must be mistaken, young Longbottom," he contradicted smoothly. "I'm only trying to help your mother."
"It's no use, Lucius," said Aurelle. "Neville knows."
"I saw you, sir," Neville insisted.
"But her mind is so damaged that she sees even her helpers as enemies," the man went on sadly, as if neither of them had spoken. He held the goblet to her lips, but she twisted her head away. "Come, Aurelle. Let me give you your medicine so you can get the rest you need." It was clear that Lucius badly wanted to shut her up before she said any more.
"I don't need more rest," Aurelle protested. "Please. I'm sick of resting."
Neville pointed his wand at Lucius. "Stop it now," he ordered. "Don't make her drink it." His hand shook so hard that Harry wondered if he were about to drop the wand. Harry was beginning to realize that Neville had one definite advantage over the famous Potter in this situation: he was easy to underestimate. He looked anything but imposing. Lucius Malfoy was not on his guard; hadn't even reached for his own wand.
"Or you'll do what?" jeered Lucius. "Will it be Cruciatus or Imperius, boy? I know how distraught you must be, but I haven't got time for this." He reached over, pinched Aurelle's nose shut between his finger and thumb, and held the goblet to her mouth again.
There was only one thing for Neville to do, and he did it.
"/T-t-titillo!/" he exclaimed, and Lucius spilled the third dose of potion as he doubled over with helpless laughter. Neville was laughing too, but he managed to keep his wand pointed at Lucius until the man dropped the goblet and staggered, clutching the bed rail for support. When Neville lifted the charm, the laughter in Lucius' face gave way a look of hatred. He pulled out his own wand.
"/Expelliarmus,/" he said almost casually, and caught Neville's wand expertly as it sailed toward him, tucking it into his robes. His scornful smile returned and he looked cool and poised again, except for his quickened breathing. "Not a bad try, young Longbottom, but you've still got a great deal to learn about dueling."
"You can't do that to my Mum anymore," Neville replied obstinately. "I won't let you."
"But my dear boy," Lucius said softly, "I have your wand. How are you going to stop me?"
"I have my ways," Neville said again, this time with more confidence. Lucius held the upper hand again for the moment, but he seemed reluctant to force matters by getting out his potion bottle again. Neville had definitely scored.
Harry caught an impression of movement out of the corner of his eye. Octavius Snape had found his way into the painting they had brought in, which Lucius Malfoy had not yet noticed. Octavius took in the situation at a glance. Moving slowly and quietly, he bent over the table and wrote something on a bit of parchment. Before leaving the painting, he propped the note against the flower vase so it would be visible to observers: "Help on the way. O. S." Then he was gone.
Harry wondered if he and his companions could keep things from coming to a head again before Octavius arrived with reinforcements. But after all, why should they? Even with Neville disarmed, they were still four against one, and still held the advantage of surprise.
The situation was delicate. None of them were supposed to be there. If they revealed themselves, at any moment someone else might show up who trusted Lucius Malfoy and would take his side against a gang of truants from Hogwarts with admittedly flimsy disguises. In that case, however, Lucius would have to behave himself and at least pretend to be well-intentioned. This fact might protect Aurelle for the time being, but not in the long run, and certainly not the rest of them. And if by any chance they did manage to overpower Lucius Malfoy before anyone else arrived, when events came to light it would be his word against theirs, with even more hot water waiting for them at the end of it. As far as Harry was concerned, a basilisk or a Hungarian Horntail would be much simpler to deal with.
"I think perhaps you had better go, boy," said Lucius Malfoy to Neville, "before this little charade goes any further … against you."
"I can't, sir," said Neville.
"Why ever not?" Lucius demanded.
"You have my wand. And the door is locked."
"He has you there, Lucius," Aurelle couldn't resist remarking. /Ron, don't you dare laugh,/ thought Harry. Malfoy's lips thinned with irritation and he raised a hand, clenched it, and lowered it again. He strode over to the door, used his key to unlock it, and stood with his hand on the knob, waiting for Neville to leave.
"May I have my wand back, sir?" Neville asked, staying where he was.
"I think not," said Lucius. "I'll keep it for you, at least for a while."
"But, Mr. Malfoy, I'll get into the most awful trouble at school if I don't have it," said Neville in a worried voice. "If I tell them you took it nobody will believe me."
Good, thought Harry. He's stalling for time.
"Lucius, I'll thank you to return my son's wand to him," said Aurelle.
"I'll send it back to Hogwarts in a day or two, Aurelle," said Lucius. "The boy needs a lesson in respect for his betters."
"No, he doesn't, Lucius," she told him, holding his gaze until he looked away, reddening slightly. His eyes narrowed as, again, his patience reached an end. He grasped Neville by the arm and started to steer him to the door.
Neville resisted. "I'm not leaving, sir," he declared.
"I think you'll find that you are leaving, boy," said Lucius through his teeth, completely exasperated. Neville was naturally not strong enough to stop Lucius from dragging him out the door by force, but he was doing his best to make it difficult. Pulling against Lucius' powerful grip, he managed to trip over his own feet and fall flat on the floor. Way to go, Neville! the hidden watchers cheered silently. He almost succeeded in pulling Lucius down with him, but the man grasped the back of a chair and recovered his balance.
"Get up, boy," snarled Lucius, tugging.
"Yes, sir," said Neville, but for some reason his feet kept sliding out from under him every time he tried to rise. A puddle of spilled potion, perhaps. Lucius, his nostrils flaring dangerously, reached for his wand.
Harry was through with letting things take their own course. Without giving Lucius a chance to decide which spell would give him the effect he wanted, Harry threw off his Invisibility Cloak, pulled out his wand, pointed it at Lucius, and shouted, "/Aquafrigida!/"
Caught completely by surprise, Lucius Malfoy let go of Neville's arm and shielded his own face from the icy blast. He did not, however, drop his wand. Drat. But Ron also emerged from hiding, and with another "Aquafrigida!" directed a second bone-chilling spray of water at Lucius' wand hand. This did the trick. Ivy whisked over and pounced on the dropped wand before it could roll under Aurelle's bed. When she had moved safely out of the way, Ivy pointed her wand at Lucius and said, "/Accio wand!/" before he could put a hand on Neville's wand himself. She plucked it out of the air as it flew toward her, and held it out for Neville to take. Finally, Harry and Ron stopped soaking their classmate's father and Hermione quickly dried him off.
Lucius Malfoy glared at all of them. "I should have guessed that Potter would be at the bottom of this," he hissed. "And his loathsome little friends." (Ron was as tall as he was, and still bearded.) "But I wasn't aware that you kept such low company, Miss Parkinson," he added in a tone of reproachful surprise. "And I will thank you to return my wand to me, young lady."
"I think not," said Ivy coolly. "I'll send it back in a day or two, Mr. Malfoy."
"How dare you address me in that insolent fashion? The Head of your House at Hogwarts will hear about this, girl," Lucius warned her.
At this, Ivy smiled. "Oh, I do hope so," she said. "Speaking of whom—look, here he is now."
The door had opened and two black-haired, black-eyed wizards appeared—Octavius and Severus Snape. Octavius was taller and broader than his brother, and in person, even more than in a painting, gave the impression of a wizard to be reckoned with.
"Well, Lucius," said Octavius pleasantly, "it's been a long time."
"Severus. Octavius. You don't often have business here," said Lucius rather formally. It was more than half a question.
"We do tonight, Lucius," said Professor Snape shortly.
"We wanted to see how the Longbottoms are doing," said Octavius. "I've heard that Frank has taken a turn for the better."
"But visiting hours are over, gentlemen," Lucius pointed out, as he had to Neville.
"You appear to be visiting, Lucius," Professor Snape noted.
"I am employed here," Lucius replied.
"But not in a medical capacity," said Octavius. "Your position doesn't give you the run of the hospital as far as I know."
Lucius shrugged. "Certain connections come with certain privileges, as you well know, Octavius. And I have taken an interest in the plight of the Longbottoms for a number of years."
"That's why they're still here," muttered Ron under his breath.
"And these young people," Octavius gestured to the five Hogwarts students. "Are they visiting as well?"
"These—these young people," Lucius almost sputtered, "are here without permission—skulking and spying—they have behaved abominably and with an utter lack of respect—and Miss Parkinson refuses to return my wand to me!" He realized that his dignity was getting away from him and took a fresh grip on it.
Ivy looked a question at her father, and he gave a small nod. "Oh, pardon me, did you want your wand back, sir? Here it is," said Ivy, handing it over. Lucius took it without a word and put it away.
Octavius stood in silence for a moment, watching the room and the people in it. When he looked at Aurelle, he saw that her eyes were open and went over to her.
"Aurelle," he said. "You're awake."
"Am I, Octavius?" she asked, stretching out a hand to him. "Is it really you?"
"Yes to both questions," he answered, pressing her fingers to reassure her. "My dear, it won't be much longer now. The nightmare is almost over."
"Your young Ivy said nearly the same thing to me," said Aurelle. "I'm afraid to believe it. How can you be sure, Octavius?"
"I think you sense it yourself, Aurelle."
"I might—but I've been so confused. I don't trust my senses anymore."
"But, Mrs. Longbottom, you knew when Lucius Malfoy was coming," Ron reminded her.
"Oh, that's easy enough," she dismissed his point. "I can smell him a mile away."
Lucius looked as if he wanted to say something, but settled on appearing resigned to the shocking rudeness of mental patients.
"Just don't give up hope, Aurelle," urged Octavius.
"Not while you're here, my old friend," she promised.
Octavius turned back to Malfoy. "Well, Lucius, everything seems to be in order here, except for a bit of spilled liquid, which I am sure the staff will remove as soon as they're made aware of it. The patient is showing welcome signs of rationality. The room is undisturbed and you appear to be quite unscathed. What seems to be the problem?"
"These—they—" Lucius began, apparently at a loss to explain how the Hogwarts delegation had caught him abusing the patient and succeeded in putting a stop to it.
"Perhaps one of the students could explain," Professor Snape suggested, giving them a hard look and taking in the hospital uniforms, name tags, and facial hair.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Ivy glanced at each other and shifted their feet.
"Well, you see, sir," began Harry.
"We wanted to see my Mum," Neville chimed in, "so we were talking to her, and Mr. Malfoy came in and she told us to hide, and he tried to make her drink something she didn't want, and he was going to smack her one and so we used some spells that Professor Snape taught us."
"I see," said Octavius with just a hint of doubt.
"Ah," said Professor Snape with a glint of satisfaction, even approval, as he looked at Neville. "My students may turn out a credit to my teaching after all."
"Young Longbottom seems to be under the mistaken impression that I was mistreating his mother," Lucius protested, "when I was only trying to help her."
"I saw you, sir," Neville repeated obstinately.
"I'm not responsible for what you thought you saw, boy," Lucius snapped.
"We all saw you, Mr. Malfoy," said Ron. "You threatened to hit her. It was obvious." Harry, Ivy, and Hermione nodded in confirmation.
"The evidence appears to be against you, Lucius," stated Professor Snape.
"Appearances can be misleading," said Lucius, "particularly when patients don't know what's good for them. But why would you take their word against mine? These students are here with no authorization and in violation of several hospital rules. Clearly they are playing some sort of juvenile prank. Why are they not being questioned?"
"I have already inquired into their activities," said Octavius, "and I am satisfied that their business here is legitimate."
"So you're satisfied, are you, Octavius?" Lucius commented. "You seem to think that your word is law, when actually you have no authority in this situation."
"But as a Hogwarts professor, I do have it, Lucius," said Professor Snape, "and I have my own reasons for agreeing with Octavius."
Lucius Malfoy paused and looked from the older brother to the younger, the two of them siding together against him, and chuckled quietly as if at some old memory. "You make an interesting pair, you Snapes," he said. "You could have been great if you had stayed with me, Severus. You made a promising start. But you lost your resolve and turned back, and look at you now. A schoolmaster, a potion peddler, kept on at Hogwarts because old Dumbledore has a soft spot in his heart for you." Professor Snape glared at him with wordless loathing.
"The path you wanted Severus to follow would have meant disaster for him, Lucius," Octavius argued. "You always liked having other wizards in thrall to you."
"And you, Octavius," Lucius went on. "Imagine how influential you might have become, if you hadn't been wasting your time with crackpot schemes and empty philosophy in that ivory tower of yours. I suppose you think you'll come down and enlighten us all someday." But Octavius merely smiled.
Ivy crossed the room and stood next to Octavius, facing Lucius Malfoy. "My father could have had his pick of posts at the Ministry of Magic, but he refused them all. He has better things to do than answer to the likes of you, Mr. Malfoy," she flung at him.
"Ah yes," said Lucius silkily. "The noted author of such books as /Pitfalls of Magical Bureaucracy/. You wouldn't have had a long career at the Ministry with that title to your name. Your ideas are quite … quite unorthodox, Octavius."
"Precisely, Lucius," said Octavius composedly. "But I wasn't aware that you had actually read my work. I admit I'm flattered."
Malfoy looked uneasy, as if he were afraid that Octavius would start quizzing him on the book's contents then and there. He opened his mouth and closed it again.
"The Ministry wouldn't have let Father carry out his independent research on reversing the Dementor's Kiss, either," Ivy put in. Octavius looked at her in mild surprise and she added, "But I wasn't supposed to know about that."
"Indeed," Octavius agreed gravely. "But I suppose by now I should know better than to try to keep anything from you, daughter."
"Reversing the Dementor's Kiss? Total waste of time," scoffed Lucius.
"Many of those at the Ministry see it that way too," said Professor Snape.
"But it can't be done," Lucius objected.
"I have come to believe that it can," said Ivy's father.
"But surely you have no proof, Octavius."
"Not yet. But I am preparing a test."
During this exchange Aurelle beckoned Harry over to her. He moved close enough to hear her whisper, "Frank is coming."
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AN: I'm afraid this gets dreadfully talky, but there's stuff that needs explaining...