Author's Note: I'm done. Pretty much. There are some accompanying pieces to follow soon. (Did all that backstory for MoonCroww, figured I could do some for this one, right? I've got a couple already written, dealing with the offspring. If you have any questions about the children and who belongs to who, just ask. People who know the story have even gotten confused a time or two. Here's to hoping I don't disappoint you with this last chapter. I enjoyed it and look forward to hearing similar feedback from you. Thanks for bearing with me over these four months. I've enjoyed the fellowship. Later Dayz, folks.
11. Beginnings
Pop!
"Am I…"
Crack!
"… late? Who was …"
Pop!
"Baby? Where's my baby?" the new arrival wanted to know immediately.
"Ah, Neville, you made it," the portrait in the lobby greeted.
"… that? Hey, Harry. Favian?" Neville was confused. "Your baby?"
"Greg's baby, my baby; same difference," his second son shrugged. Then with a wink and a grin, he slapped his Dad on the back and said, "Hullo, Grandpa."
Forcing a congenial smile, Neville responded, "Why, thank you, son."
"Anytime, Gramps," the younger assured him, glancing around the room. "Enna! Stop giggling; it only encourages him!" he shouted playfully, running over to where Ewan was whispering to the girl.
"I don't know how comfortable I am with your son whispering in my daughter's ear."
Neville furrowed his brow and turned to look at the portrait hanging beside him.
"Then you'll be glad to know that Dustin and Brinley are holding fast against the advances of your younger two," Luna stated, moving to stand with her husband.
"Oh …" sighed portrait-Harry. "All my grandchildren will be Longbottoms."
Neville and Luna smiled.
"I'm sure one of them will grow out of it," Hermione chimed in, pacing her way closer and closer as she wrung her hands. "Clara had a crush on Favian for years."
"Mother!" the third Weasley child gasped.
"Really?" Favian seemed interested. Sitting beside the girl, he put an arm around the back of Clara's chair and winked. "Hey, there."
He was promptly swatted on the back of the head by a tall red-haired young man who had been pacing the floor along with Hermione.
"That's my sister, you tw-"
"Asher," his mother scolded, cutting him off and casting him a stern look as she continued to walk the floor.
"Where's Gregory?" Asher demanded, changing the subject and looking toward the stairs. Hermione rolled her eyes and turned back to Neville and Luna who saw Favian receive a second thump and a pointed look from the Weasley boy as soon as she wasn't looking.
Pop!
"That was fast," Harry commented when Ginny apparated nearby.
"Fast?" Neville was confused again.
"I had to run an errand," the woman told him just as an elderly healer entered Harry's portrait and spoke quietly in his ear.
"Where are the rest of the kids?" Neville asked his wife, noticing the absence of his youngest four.
"Cassia's keeping an eye on them."
"What about Dustin?"
"Oh, he's supposed to be, but I'm sure he and Brand have wandered off in search of the gnapperdole on the third floor."
"Then I suppose Haley's with them, too," Ginny shook her head.
Hermione made a pained face, "Surely, Cassia didn't let Brand go with them."
Luna ignored the question and said, "I should go check on her. Brinley can be a handful."
"What's a gna-" Neville began, but was silenced by glares from Ginny and Hermione.
"Thank you," Harry told the now retreating healer.
"What was that all about?" Hermione demanded. "Did she have something to say about Evelyn?"
Harry just grinned.
"Gregory will be down to tell you all about it … when they wake him up."
Neville rubbed his forehead, shaking his head, while Ginny and Hermione chuckled quietly.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a friend in the Ministry who is awaiting the latest," the portrait said just before disappearing from view.
"Asher," Hermione called, turning. "Buy your mother a cup of tea."
"But what if-"
"Tea, Asher."
"Would love to," he corrected, linking his arm with his mother's and leading her up the staircase.
"She just wants to 'accidentally' pass by the delivery ward," Ginny speculated under her breath.
Neville nodded with a smile at the woman. Then, remembering what Gregory had told him before, he gestured to a chair.
"Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?" he asked.
Ginny gave an assenting nod and they sat at the very end of the long row of chairs.
"When Gregory said I needed to go to your house a moment ago, I knew this would be coming."
"You went to my house?"
"Only as an extra precaution. If the capsule had been left unattended to, forgotten, and then found by one of the children, it could have been dangerous. It needed to be disposed of."
"I understand, but … I guess, more than anything right now, I just want to know why someone didn't tell me this sooner? I've been out a week already. There were plenty of opportunities."
"Luna requested that we give you some time to recuperate."
"Luna … so she knows? I mean, she was very welcoming to Dean when he came by earli-"
"What?!" Favian exclaimed from his seat nearby, startling all present. "He was ... he came by?!" The young man's face reddened and he took up the pacing, clenching his fists and rubbing the back of his neck. "I need to talk to Gregory."
"You had better not go up there," Neville ordered. "Sit down, and be quiet."
"But Dad! You don't know what you're tal-"
"Be. Quiet."
He growled and pulled a chair over to sit with his father and Ginny.
"What's the problem here?" Ewan asked, strutting over and twirling his wand like a constable's baton.
"I'm trying to have a discussion with my friend," Neville informed him, and with a pointed look at Favian, added, "A private one. Go sit with your brother."
"But Dad," he repeated, leaning close so Ewan couldn't hear. "If he was with you … it could have been bad."
"That's none of your concern, right now, Favian."
"I was supposed to wa-"
"I know, Favian. Calm down, and go sit with your brother. It's alright."
"Am I missing something?" Ewan inquired, all playing aside.
"Sit! The both of you," Neville ordered, standing and pointing to the chairs they had previously occupied. They did as they were told and their father reclaimed his own chair.
Ginny was smiling and he sighed in exasperation.
"I see you've remembered what this parenting thing is like."
"Have you ever met Brinley and Andrew?"
"Oh, I've met them, alright. They had to get it somewhere, you know."
Neville shook his head. "I was not that bad when I was little."
"You were raised under different circumstances."
"They've got Luna's cleverness as well as her enthusiasm for adventure and the fantastical, but then there's this energy. I don't think either of us were ever so … hyper."
Ginny laughed, "Maybe your energy was stunted as a youth."
Neville snorted, "Gran discouraged any activity that required excessive movement. My childhood consisted of 'sit still', 'stand quietly', and 'go to bed'. But what was I saying?" He cursed his memory and slid to the edge of his chair, elbows on his knees. "That's something else. I just wish I knew what was wrong with me. It's like I woke up one day without a part of my brain."
"You did," the woman confided softly.
Neville looked at her blankly.
"You know what happened to me?"
He saw Ginny glance behind him and he shot a severe look at Favian who was watching them. Neville nodded at the far corner and led Ginny to it. She leaned against the wall and he blocked her from view.
"Please, Ginny, you have to tell me," he pleaded.
She looked at him carefully.
"Do you remember what happened to … to … R-"
He held up his hand and stopped her. "Yes, I remember that now."
She let out a shaky breath and was visibly relieved.
"No," he assured her. "You don't have to go into that. I just want to know what's wrong with me."
"I don't know if Luna would like me telli-"
"Does she know?"
"No."
"Then you have to."
Ginny nodded and Neville listened closely.
"I don't know what to do," he said, adjusting the blanket around him. He cleared his throat and she rested her head on his chest, an arm around his middle.
"You've still got that cough," she commented absently, closing her eyes.
"I just wish he'd talk to me. He's been so distant since …"
"I'm sure he'll come ar-"
She was interrupted by a loud knock downstairs. Her husband was gone to answer it before she could react. Grabbing her dressing gown, she went to the top of the stairs.
"We can talk in my study," she heard. Harry looked up and met her gaze as he led Neville down the hallway.
"I, obviously, didn't go in with …"
Neville winced as another one of his headaches flared up behind his eyes and he couldn't hear her anymore.
His wand arm dropped and he shook his head.
"Neville, I ... I don't have the energy to do this tonight. Selective memory charms are much harder than blanket obliviations." He coughed a few times and his guest stood up.
"You're still coughing. Why didn't you tell me?"
"It's nothing," Harry waved him off.
"No, it's not. I knew you shouldn't have done that muggle-thing," Neville hissed, cursing under his breath.
"What?"
"With Ron."
Harry froze at the name.
"The muggle way of resuscitation. You inhaled the smoke, didn't you?"
"It doesn't matter. You said it yourself that you couldn't prove that the smoke did anything."
"The rat died, Harry."
The other man frowned.
"The second rat. It must have inhaled some of the smoke when I killed the other and it died on Tuesday. I can't explain it. It's like it just smoldered until the lungs were gone."
With a short burst of laughter, Harry shook his head.
"No, Neville, you must have used the curse on it sometime."
The look that he was receiving told Harry that he hadn't.
"I can't take this anymore," Neville told him, turning away. "I should have had this figured out months ago, and now I'm going to lose you, too."
"How long did it take?"
"A fortnight," came the response.
Harry coughed and stared dazedly at his friend, "But it's already been a week."
When Neville turned to face him, his eyes were glistening.
"I know."
Harry thought for a moment and took his friend by the shoulders.
"You have to get over this, Neville."
"I can't."
"For God's sake, Neville, would you stop?!" Harry shouted. "This isn't just about you anymore. We have wives and children. You have just told me that I've got one week left to get everything in order and you won't shut up long enough to see that you're going to have to step up and take care of them."
"Then get Ron out of my head!"
They glared at one another for a long moment.
"Sit down," Harry ordered and Neville did as he was told. "I have known you for a long time and this is the first time I have ever known you to be so selfish. You think you're the only one …"
"I have let you down," said his friend mutedly.
Harry's shoulders slumped.
"You have not."
"Don't lie."
"Neville, please. Just stop talking. I don't even know if this is possible, but I'm going to try. If I do this for you, you sure as hell had better not let anything happen to my family."
"Ginny and the girls will-"
"And Hermione-"
"-and Hermione will be-"
"And Luna and all yours," Harry went on. "All of them, Neville. They are all to grow old and never need anything."
"I promise," Neville vowed.
"And I trust you. Now, I need you to listen to me very carefully. You will not like this first instruction, but you have to do it. Are you ready?"
"Yes."
"I want you to close your eyes and concentrate on Ron."
Neville's eyes fluttered open.
"Do it, Neville. If you don't bring it forward, I'll have to use legilimens, and you won't like that."
After a moment of hesitation, the other man's face screwed up in deep thought. He soon nodded.
"This is going to feel a little strange, but bear with me, okay?"
Another nod.
Harry pressed the tip of his wand to Neville's temple and focused all his energy into what he was doing. He began to withdraw the wand and Neville felt a strange feeling where the wand had been, as though cool water was trickling out of his head.
"…ville? Are you alright? Should I get a healer?" Ginny was asking, gripping the front of his shirt with both fists, trying to keep him steady on his feet.
The now-familiar dizziness was overwhelming him again, but he braced himself against the wall and shook his head, "No, I'm fine, I'm just confused. If Harry took the memory out, how is it that I have it now?"
"We should sit down. You seem a bit shaky on your feet."
Neville agreed and Ginny summoned their chairs. The receptionist looked at them oddly as they sat in the corner.
"You don't mind, do you?" he asked, catching her stare.
"Of course not, Mr. Longbottom. Do as you please," she smiled before going back to her work.
"Thank you."
Ginny put her wand in her handbag and seemed to consider her thoughts.
"The whole idea of having a memory taken out is over my head. How can you have a memory one moment, and then not the next because it's sitting in a pensieve somewhere? Wouldn't you remember what it was you wanted taken out? To this day, I still don't grasp it completely, but Harry tried to explain it to me."
"Neville understands that this," he held up a vial with a fluid coil resting in the bottom, "was inside his head at one time. He also understands that it's something awful and he wanted it out of his head for a reason. He knows that Ron is gone, he just doesn't remember the circumstances. He's blissfully unaware of what actually happened and that he was present for it."
"Why don't you do the same for yourself?" she asked.
"Because Ron deserves a memory."
"But that one?"
"I was with him when he died, Ginny, and I refuse to die believing that I wasn't. My memories give me reason for what I have to do. Neville's made him feel useless. I could not abide that, either."
"It was then, too, that he told me that he was dying. He didn't want it to be a complete surprise when it happened. And then, it didn't happen when it was supposed to, which we couldn't figure out. We just woke up every morning wondering if today was the day. Not that you remembered anything was wrong anyway. As the memory of how Harry had been afflicted was the memory that was removed, you went about life as normal.
"It started out as little things that you would forget. Tying your shoe, buttoning your shirt properly, mundane things that make no difference really. Still, Harry was concerned."
"I'm not taking him there," she stated defiantly.
"I think it's in his best interest if he at least goes in for a checkup," the man insisted.
"There is nothing to checkup."
"But Luna-" Ginny began.
"No! I will not make him go back to that damned hospital!" she shouted, startling the couple in her kitchen. "He hates it there. Too many memories that haunt him in his sleep, and I won't force him to relive them."
"Then let me bring in a healer."
"He is fine, Harry. Please, just leave him be."
"If it gets worse-"
"It won't."
"But it did. Little by little, you started forgetting what day it was, names of people at the Ministry, and how to perform simple spells. Harry was convinced it was from taking the memory out; that somehow it had addled your brain in an adverse way. So, one Sunday, after a big family dinner, the children were in the garden while we all chatted over tea in the kitchen and you had gone to nap on the sofa. Harry stole away and retrieved the vial. (Being as there's no way to destroy a memory without destroying the memory-maker, Harry still had it locked in a drawer in his study.) He then carefully reinserted the strand in hopes that it would take care of your increased forgetfulness … It didn't."
"Where are you going?" she asked as her husband stood suddenly, dropping the parchment in his hand.
"I have to go to St. Mungo's. I'll be back," he answered, apparating before she could say anything more. Picking up the discarded note, she read:
I'm with him at the hospital. Please, come quickly.
Luna
"You'd fallen down the stairs. When she'd went to help you, you didn't know who she was. She told you and you would nod, but then you'd forget a moment after. There was no denying that something was wrong then. Harry believed later, that since you weren't cognizant, your mind wasn't opened to receiving anything and the memory was folded into it's place. He likened it to a forgotten chest in a dusty corner where no one ever went and thought that by talking to you regularly, the right topic would make you wander into that corner and open it. What he never could figure out was why other memories seemed to fade in and out as time went on.
"Needless to say, he never used memory charms after that, and was hesitant with any mind-invading techniques. Too dangerous. He hated having sentenced you to your parents' life, locked up in this hospit-"
"He didn't sentence me to anything," Neville cut her off. "He only did what I asked him to."
"That didn't make him feel any less responsible."
"It was my fault."
"No, it wasn't," she told him firmly, and Harry's last words echoed in his ears as he mulled everything over.
"Have they really not brought that baby down, yet?" Asher demanded.
"Don't they know there are grandparents waiting to see it?"
All eyes turned to Harry's portrait in which a young man with ginger hair had his arms crossed over his chest and an indignant look on his painted face.
"How did you do that?" Hermione wanted to know, eyes shining as she went to stand beside the wall.
"Took a bit of doing, but there are ways," painted-Ron shrugged, nudging Harry who was looking quite impressed with himself.
"I don't even want to know," Hermione shook her head, grinning and Ron knelt down.
"And seeing as my other portrait," he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, "is covered up, I wasn't going to just wait around to see it."
"You'd have been uncovered tonight. We've already moved it into the other house."
Despite the thrill of seeing Ron in the portrait, Neville's heart sank at these words and he interjected, "You're moving?"
"Well, yes …" Hermione began.
"She's just moving in with me," Ginny told him.
"But …"
"It will be nice to have someone else in the house besides just me and the girls," the red-haired woman went on.
"You can't sell the house, Hermione. I won't let you. I'll buy it," he changed course.
"No, no, Neville," Hermione chuckled, patting his arm. "I've given it to Asher in case he decides he ever wants to start a family."
The eldest Weasley boy rolled his eyes.
"Don't roll your eyes," the painting scolded and Asher huffed.
"Yes, sir."
Ron gave a smug look and winked at Neville as his son walked away, "Still got it. It's good to see you, Neville. It's been an age."
"Yes, it ha-" Neville began before something ran into his left leg and latched on.
"Daddy!" the pre-adolescent shouted and the man ruffled his hair.
"Ah, Brinley. I see they let you out," he said, looking around and seeing that all the children, Weasleys, Potters, and Longbottoms alike, were now in the lobby.
"That's too many children to be looking at at once," Ron breathed, standing up to his full painted height.
"Someone's coming," Clara declared, standing up and everyone looked to the stairs.
Gregory descended the last flight and immediately went to his parents and Hermione standing by the portrait.
"You can come up," he grinned with moist eyes, wrapping an arm around Hermione and leading her to the stairs as Neville did the same with Luna in one arm and Ginny in the other. Painted-Harry pointed at the line of portraits leading up the stairs and he and Ron followed through various scenes of Healers and Mediwitches.
Once at the room, Favian and Asher blocked the rest of the children from entering when the adults did. Gregory released Hermione and sat beside Evelyn on the cot, one arm going around behind her as his free hand began pulling back the bundle of blankets in his wife's arms.
"Mom, Dad, Mione," he said, his voice a little hoarse, "I'd like to introduce you to Phaedra Lynn."
The blankets fell away to reveal little wisps of red hair dusting the top of a small round face, dark eyes barely open.
"Excuse me!" a woman exclaimed.
"Yes, yes, you're excused."
"Where is – Oh …"
They all looked up to see Harry and Ron with their faces and hands pressed up against the canvas.
"She's beautiful," Harry smiled while Ron just got as low in the portrait as he could, to be as close as possible.
"Hello, there, little one. What's her name?" he asked quietly.
"Phaedra Lynn," Evelyn repeated, handing the baby to her husband who walked to the painting.
"Phaedra," Ron whispered, waving slightly.
"Would you like to hold her, Mione?" Gregory offered, though he didn't need to ask. Neville stood beside the portrait and took in the scene before him: Luna and Ginny standing beside Hermione as she held her new granddaughter, tears running down their cheeks; Gregory and Evelyn whispering to one another in between quick kisses and waving for the rest of the children to enter and they all swarmed around the bed, surprisingly quiet and gentle with a chorus of soft gasps and coos.
Neville smiled.
This was one memory that would never fade.