A/N: This fic was heavily inspired by the Hospital scene in OotP. It made me realize how horrible it must be for Neville to live with parents that aren't able to love him, hug him, talk to him, or even recognize him; how horrible it must be for him not to have any great magical abilities; and how horrible it must be for him to be confronted with those all the time. I never thought about that before, and I hope that, with this fic, you can get some insight in his situation as well. Thanks to GreenFairy, for beta-reading ^^ Oh, and, you know the drill, I don't own Neville or any of the other characters mentioned here.
Another Time
One. Four.
"Hold your wand a little bit higher, boy."
Eight. Thirteen.
"Not like that, please! And speak louder!"
Twenty-two.
"For heaven's sake, didn't your parents give you even one sparkle of their talent at your birth?"
Thirty.
"That's enough. For today, that is. There's still need for lots of practice before you get that spell right. Just look at it, Neville. It doesn't even look like a waxlight if you close your eyes and pretend it to be."
A blush appeared on the boy's cheeks as he shyly pocketed his wand. His grandmother gave a loud sigh, and Neville did not even have to look up to know the look of pity and disappointment in her eyes. It had been there way too often. For a moment he wished he could disappear so he wouldn't have to bear it again.
"I'll be in my room," he said, a sad look on his face. Making his way to his room, he carefully avoided the many colorful obstacles that stood in the way. His grandmother was normally a cheerful woman, with bright furniture and paintings all over the small place, and she was often righteous in her comments and critiques. Since his parents had been great aurors, Neville often felt like she expected him to be just as great, which he wasn't. Not at magic, at least.
Soon he arrived at his room. As he opened the door, he looked at the 6m² that had been his for as long as he could remember. Their house wasn't large – what space did a 68-year-old woman and her grandson need, Neville had always been told.
It didn't look very special; a bed that took almost half of the space; a small desk with piles of books and papers all over it; a cupboard that seemed like it had just been hit by a bomb, and a large poster of the Chudley Cannons next to his bed. Still, it was his room, his little place.
"I'm sorry, Dad. Mum," Neville whispered to the floor as he stepped in.
// flashback //
It was a sunny day, with barely any clouds visible in the blue morning sky. The sun made the trees in the small park glow, and the flowers shine. A boy held the arm of the woman next to him, who did not seem steady enough to walk on her own. Her face looked pale; her eyes, like the soul was drained out of them. The boy felt by-passers stare at the woman and the letters on her pajamas: "St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries".
He did not care. It was his mum.
"I've been doing fine lately, I guess. Gran says that's because we've been having nice weather. Makes people happy, she says. She's been in a good mood, too. Even told me that I could have friends stay over at our place if I wanted to. When I told her we didn't exactly have space for that, she smiled, and said she'd work something out.
"Not like I have many friends that I could ask to stay over, though. Sure, Harry and Ron are great people, and Hermione's been helping me so much -- What are you saying? No, I don't have a wand, sorry... -- erm... oh, and Ginny, she's cool too. But they already seem so busy – I really don't want to bother them."
As for school, Professor Snape is terrible. I wonder if I'd been in his house would he still pick on me like that, making me nervous. I can't help it if I'm bad at Potions! And at History of Magic. And Charms. And Transfiguration. And..."
Draco Malfoy said something really mean about you and Dad the other day... I -- you -- well, never mind, I'm sure he lied anyway. Wait, don't take that way! We're heading left!"
I don't want to be ungrateful to Grandma, but those robes she gave me the other day... not only are they too big (I doubt that even in a few years I would fit in them), they also have this... clashing color. Green. Slytherin green. Is it really indecent of me not to like them? I'm just... I'm sure she thinks they're really beautiful and a great gift..."
Remember that Herbology test I did a while back? I got an A! Professor Sprout says I'm really good at it, and I'm thinking of becoming a professional gardener for the Ministry. You know, to foster potion ingredients and antidotes and medicinal herbs for the hospital. Mum, please stop plucking at your sleeve like that... Ah well, we should get back now anyway..."
// end of flashback //
Softly throwing his door shut, Neville stared from the pile of books to his bed. Still feeling bad over his failure of a minute ago, he decided upon the first. Sighing, he threw himself into the chair, and grabbed the book on top of the pile. Charms.
Well, it was better than Transfiguration, which he'd been practicing for half an hour already. Getting his wand back out again, he stood up, and put his pillows up against the wall.
After looking in the book for the first spell, he tried to concentrate. Swishing his wand up and down, he called, "Reductor!"
The spell was supposed to blast the pillows out of the way, but there only sounded a small sigh, and the pillows seemed to be hit by a small breeze of air. Slightly discouraged by this bad result, Neville tried again. And again. And again. And again.
The more he tried, the more he lost his concentration, and the more frustrated he got with himself. Eventually, he was able to push the pillows a little bit aside, but it was far from what he had expected. Giving up, he turned around to throw his wand at his desk-- only to find himself staring at a picture of his Mum and Dad at their wedding.
He had to try. He had to succeed, just once.
Concentrating, the thought of his Mum and Dad in his mind, he tightened his grip around the wand.
// flashback //
As she shut the door behind them, he started to ask his burning question. "Where are we going?"
She smiled. The smile of a strong, independent and wise woman. "We're going to see your parents."
He felt a warm feeling of excitement boil up inside him. His parents! His entire life, she had told him about the great people they were, about how they had found each other in the Gryffindor house, how they had been cheerful and serious, and how they had been good friends of the parents of the legendary Harry Potter. She had told him how they had been perfect at school, how they had both gone to follow an education as Aurors, and how they had both succeeded. With pride she had explained to him that only the most qualified could succeed, and said that they, of course, had turned out to be great in their profession, even among the names of Aurors.
Inevitably, she had also told him about how they had always fought for the good cause, trying to protect innocent lives, innocent souls, and giving their own souls in the process... "Tortured into insanity..." she had said once, "is perhaps the most terrible thing one can imagine... and they would've gone through it ten times more if they'd have had to." They had been honorable people, she had said, and would always be remembered as good-hearted, brave heroes, who had helped beating the origin of the evil; Lord Voldemort.
And now, he was going to meet them. He, just as she, had been proud of them, and was happy to be their son. His magical capabilities had never been really good, but next year he'd go to the same school as his parents, where they had met: Hogwarts; and then, everything would change. He would be given the chance to be just as great, or even excel them.
The entire trip towards the hospital, he could not think of anything else. He was going to see his parents! His parents! Heroes!
As he stepped in the hospital, he saw all kinds of people around him. Nurses and doctors in white clothes, mostly serious looks on their faces and in rushing moods. There were also a lot of patients. He saw a girl whose nose had grown to the size of a rather large carrot, and the mother who was guiltily explaining what had happened. "I had no idea my wand was laying there, nurse, I usually keep it really far away from Suzie..." she said, looking down. There was also a witch who looked really pale, and as he watched, green spots popped up everywhere on her face. Another nurse came to assure that she didn't need any first aid help, but the woman told her she was just having some "magical food poisoning".
He immediately realized that his parents would perhaps not be able to talk to him, or even look at him, so bad was the damage the torture had inflicted upon them, and he tried to think up something he'd say, to get the conversation started, or to assure them he didn't blame them. After giving it some thought, he decided that the first thing he'd tell them was how proud he was of them. Yes, that would be a good opening, he decided.
After checking at the reception area, they went to the fourth floor. "Which ward is it, Granny?" he asked excitedly, not being able to wait to finally meet his parents.
"Ward 49, my dear," she answered, as they walked passed ward 41.
He had to suppress the urge to run and storm into the room, embracing his mum, his dad, and spending the entire day with them.
43.
The feeling was unbearable. But he had to behave himself; this was a hospital, he couldn't go running through the halls like that...
45.
People they passed greeted them with a smile. They didn't seem very genuine though, but a little sad, or forced even. Why, he wondered, as he could not recall the moment he'd felt any happier than he was now.
47.
Oh, perhaps he had felt happier, once, about 5 years ago, when his grandma had given him a newly decorated room for Christmas. It had been really a surprise; Christmas Eve he had fallen asleep in his old, rather boring room, and when he woke up, the walls were a bright Christmas green, and there was a small Christmas tree in the corner of his room. Bells had been ringing delicately, and if you listened closely, you could've heard birds singing. Yes, he had felt really happy then, but the feeling had not lasted, and nor had the room. As soon as he got out of bed, his grandma had got angry at him for not giving her any presents in return, and the next morning the room had been its boring self again.
49.
Neville's happiness reached a climax as they stepped through the door -- only to drop immensely as he saw his parents. First, he could not believe those two people were his parents. He looked around the room, but the only other person there was a man who looked like he could fall into pieces any moment, and there was not another woman in sight. These people, in these beds, their white, wispy hair falling down their dark cheeks, their skins unusually pale... they were... his parents. And, yes, he could now also see a ghost of the two people he had seen in photographs, confirming his fears.
His father's eyes were rolling, as if he couldn't keep his eyes focused on anything for more than half a second, and his mother was slowly rocking her head up and down, humming something incomprehensible. Neither of them seemed to have noticed two family members walking in after years since they'd last seen them.
Tears started to form in his eyes as he realized this. There was a heavy lump in his throat, which would not go away when he tried to swallow. He felt his grandmother's hand on his shoulder, pushing him towards the bed, towards those tortured souls... But he could not step forward. He stood there, frozen; his head eerily empty as he watched his parents in horror. This could not be...
"No," he finally uttered, not pulling his gaze off them. "No." He slowly started to shake his head in denial as a tear rolled out of his eye, following the line of his nose, then down his cheek. Denial of what, precisely?
"Don't be so taken aback, boy, a moment ago you were so enthusiastic about seeing them!" she said, finally pushing him forward until there was only a little space between him and his mum, who lay closest to him.
"Alice, dear," his grandmother said. "Look who I brought with me today! Your son! Aren't you happy?" Her voice sounded fake, but he did not have to worry his mum would notice it. The older woman then turned to him. "Come on, give them a kiss!" she ordered a little disdainfully.
Another tear trailing down his face, he forced himself to lean over and give his mum a quick peck on the cheek. She felt cold, and wrinkled, and when he touched her, she instantly stopped rocking. Tentatively stepping back, he watched as his mother looked up at him, staring him directly in his eyes. He took another step back at the unwanted sight of his mother, hitting his grandmother, who again encouraged him to walk forward. Her eyes... they looked so hollow and empty... no longer were they blue; they had turned a soulless gray.
Finally she turned back to hum her mantra and rock of her head, and to satisfy his grandmother he barely brushed his lips over his father's forehead, afraid of the reaction it might cause. But his dad continued to look around like a shy cat who was being approached by a mean kid, as if he still didn't notice his son's presence.
"Good boy," his grandmother said in that eerily fake voice, squeezing his shoulder lightly.
// end of flashback //
Again, the pillows just got pushed away a little.
He sighed again, sitting down on his bed, lost in thought until he heard a sound coming from his wardrobe. Frowning, he stood up to investigate it closer, still listening to the sound, trying to locate the source. It sounded like someone was clearing his throat very loudly, over and over again.
Throwing the door open, an ugly green toad appeared, sitting on the top of some trash.
"Trevor!" Neville exclaimed happily, glad to have found his pet back again, and he picked him up.
// flashback //
When Neville woke up, it took him a few moments to realize what day it was, but after getting to his feet and glancing at the calendar that hang next to his bed, he remembered; today was his 11th birthday!
Storming into the living room, still wearing his pajamas, his mouth fell open. The entire room had been decorated with magical paper chains, and balloons were floating around everywhere. His grandma stood in the middle of it, smiling a huge smile at her grandson. Her dress was even more cheerful than normal, with '11' written all ove it. "Happy eleventh birthday, Neville," she said, walking over to the boy and hugging him tightly. "I thought I'd somewhat cheer the house up. After all, you only turn 11 once in your life!"
Neville was only half-listening, still staring a little dazzled at the sudden wonderfulness of the room. His grandmother had never celebrated his birthday very excessively, so this came as a huge surprise.
"Thanks, Gran!" he finally managed to utter, but the words didn't do justice to the enormous feeling of gratitude he felt towards her. His grandmother hugged him again, then pushed him forward to the table. There was one package on it, finely wrapped in golden paper, and an envelope was lying next to it.
Running over to it, he immediately unwrapped the paper, wondering what it could be. It was a box, and he could feel a weight in it as he pulled the cover away. Before he could wholly see what it was, he saw something green jump away, landing on the ground and disappearing under the table. Neville dropped to his knees to look under the table for whatever it was that had been in the box. As he shoved the tablecloth away he was just in time to see the green thing hop under the couch.
Neville looked up at his grandma miserably. Sighing, she grabbed her wand and flicked it, muttering, "Accio." A little green frog flew to her hand. She held it tightly, almost so tightly that Neville wondered how she ever put that frog into the box without killing him, and he quickly walked over to her to take it in his own hands, visibly relieving the little animal.
It was a little bit slimy, and not at all that pretty, but Neville looked at if he were holding a wonderful treasure. His eyes were gleaming and he smiled broadly as he carefully let the curious animal hop from one hand to the other.
"Open the other surprise, dear," granny said, gesturing her hand at the forgotten envelope.
Nodding, Neville looked around for somewhere to put his toad, and finally just put it in his pocket as he opened the envelope and pulled out a letter. Skimming through the sentences, his eyes grew wider. "Hogwarts!" he exclaimed, not really being able to believe it. "Isn't that where Mum and Dad --"
"Yes indeed, your mother and father also went to Hogwarts," granny replied, once again smiling at him, this time a little proudly. "They allow toads there too, so I thought you might like one. His name is Trevor," she said.
Hogwarts... Despite his poor magical abilities, which had made his grandmother think he was in fact a squib, he was now going to one of world's most famous Wizarding schools!
Getting the toad out of his pocket again, he stared at it and poked it playfully, joy in his eyes. "Trevor... my new buddy!"
// end of flashback //
Now, again, Neville looked at the toad with a certain happiness tingling in his stomach. A few more days and he would be returning to Hogwarts again; to his lessons, his school, his dormitory, and, most important, his friends. For he had always had them, but he just hadn't realized it before.