Neville Longbottom sighed and turned over in his sleep. It was midnight, the bed was warm, and he was dreaming…
It was warm.
And quiet.
There were faces hovering above him—Mum, Dad. They were smiling; he could never remember them smiling. It was nice.
"He's beautiful, isn't he?"
"He is, Alice. Just like his mother."
"Aww, you only say that, Frank Longbottom, stop teasing."
"But it's true."
"Maybe. But look. He's waking up. You should go—our baby needs his sleep."
"Oh, all right." A rough hand came down and—gently, all considered—stroked his head. It was nice. "Goodnight, Neville. My boy."
"Now, Neville, baby, you ready for your lullaby?"
He gurgled and waved his arms—yes, he wanted his lullaby.
"Ok, then, c'mere you," and Mum picked him up.
Gentle rocking, and she began to sing a quiet song.
Warmth.
Darkness.
Sleep.
Neville's smile vanished. A hawk screamed somewhere outside his window, and a shadow fell over his face…
He woke up suddenly.
It wasn't quiet anymore; he heard noises. Banging, and his father's voice.
"What d'you want?"
A woman's voice—not Mum's, a stranger. "Where is our Master?"
"Your Master is DEAD!"
"You LIE! Crucio!"
His father screamed. And screamed. And screamed.
The woman was laughing. Laughing!
"It can stop, you know. Just tell me where the Master is!"
He didn't talk. He just kept screaming.
Until, suddenly, it stopped.
"Hmmm…that's interesting." There was a muffled thump. "he's still alive."
A male voice; high, quavery. " Probably out of his mind. Either way, he's useless now."
Them woman sighed. "Yes. Well. Let's move on, there's always the other one…"
Neville thrashed and turned, tangled in his sheets, face shining with sweat
"No…no…"
Mum dashed into his room. Her face was white with tears and fright. She grabbed him, held him close to his chest, and sprinted to the door.
"Nuh-uh-uhhh…" the door was blocked by the woman. She was pale, with long, straggly black hair and empty, hooded eyes, and her smile made her look like a skull in the moonlight.
"You aren't going anywhere. Now, perhaps you know what you husband gave his sanity to hide. Just tell be and you and your baby," she said the word with a sneer. "will live."
"No." Mum looked at him. She knew what was coming. "Voldemort is dead."
"HE IS NOT, NOW TELL ME!! CRUCIO!!"
Mum spasmed in pain, dropping. She fell next to him, twitching and writhing.
"TELL ME!!"
She did not make a sound.
"TELL ME!!!"
Still, she said nothing.
"NOW!!!" The woman's edge began to have a desperate edge to it.
Mum stared up at her, through the pain, and a tear ran down her face.
Then she went limp.
"Shit!" the woman gripped her head, and almost seemed to be near tears. "NO!"
That man was behind her, and he gripped her shoulder.
"Forget about it. There's always next time. We'll find Master, don't worry."
"Yes, Yes, we will."
She looked down at him, bawling on the floor.
"What do we do with the brat?"
"He's seen too much. And we don't know if he can talk yet."
"Yes. Well, there's only one thing to do."
The young man picked him up, almost gently. He raised his wand, and pointed it at his head.
"Obliviate!"
a blinding flash of light…
"Neville! Neville!" Someone was shaking him. He lashed out at the arms; his eyes opened.
"Neville. It's me." It was Harry. "Are you all right?" he looked concerned.
He shook his head a bit to clear it. "Yeah, I think.."
"What happened! You were shaking like crazy."
"…I dunno. I must have been dreaming."
a.n YES!!!! I finally finished this one. It took me forever to figure out how to phrase tthis one-shot, but I did it!
Anyway, this explains my theory as to why Neville has such a bad memory—Memory Spells weren't exactly made to be used on babies, and it must have had a more permanent effect on his brain.
Hope you like it—took me long enough to write…
Review!!!