Chapter 8 The Closed Ward

After dinner, Neville and Harry went out between the greenhouses to practice spells under the watchful eye of Mrs. Longbottom. Harry made sure that Neville was performing them all properly, and then they squared off, with Neville trying to hex Harry and Harry avoiding or blocking them. Neville's aim and reliability continued to improve. His grandmother watched, both to see how they did and to unjinx either of them if a spell got through or was reflected back at Neville. Neville was surprised to find that he could cast spells even with his fearsome grandmother there. More than once he found himself relieved that she was there to undo a spell. Then Harry showed Neville the Protego blocking spell and cast mild spells like jelly-legs at him so he could practice blocking. After a while, Neville was blocking more than were getting through. Then his grandmother stood up.

"Alright, Mr. Potter," she said with a glint in her eye, "you can get spells past a youngster – let's see how you can do against a grizzled old witch."

"Are you sure, Maam?" asked Harry.

"What, you don't think I'm good enough? Or are you afraid? If you can't handle an old lady, how can you face Voldemort?"

"Alright, then," said Harry, reluctantly. They squared off and he began to timidly fire curses her way, which she easily blocked. He sped up, and she still deflected them. She laughed at him.

"What are you, a garden gnome? Have you never learned how to fight? Do you want to win or not?"

That was enough for Harry – she had asked for it. He started firing spells as fast as he could, first one every 2 second, then every second, finally reaching almost 2 spells a second. Mrs. Longbottom was handling them until he got to his fastest and then a stunner got through. Four more spells flew over her body before Harry could stop himself.

"Gran!" Neville screamed, "Are you alright? Harry, what'd you hit her with?"

"A stunner," said Harry as he performed the countercurse and she revived.

She smiled. "That's going to hurt for awhile, but it's worth it to push you to perform. Not bad, Mr. Potter. You might become a fighter yet, after all. Now it's MY turn."

Having seen how well Mrs. Longbottom could defend, Harry was a bit nervous as he faced off against her. He rehearsed in his mind all his defensive spells and avoidance moves. At a signal from Neville, she began casting spells, just as fast as Harry had ended with. Harry was barely able to keep up, and then she increased her speed even more. He jumped and rolled and blocked and reflected; after five minutes and over 350 spells, she finally got through with an Impedimenta. She smiled and nodded at him as she did the countercharm and helped him up.

"Definitely the makings of a fighter – excellent reflexes," she said happily. Then she looked him squarely and sternly in the eye "But you let that be the last time anyone gets a spell past you. We weren't using spells that do any lasting damage. I expect to see you coming back here to visit for years to come, understand?"

Harry nodded, still breathless from the effort and exhilaration.

"There's something else I want to show you that I think no one else probably has. Neville, lend him your wand."

Neville pulled out his wand and handed it to Harry, who took it in his left hand, since his own wand was in his right.

"Now try casting a spell with Neville's wand," she said.

Harry started to trade hands with the wands, but she stopped him "No, go ahead and do it left-handed."

Harry pointed Neville's wand at a bench and levitated it. It felt very strange, both because he had very rarely ever used other than his own wand and because he was used to letting the power flow through his right arm. He held the bench up for several seconds, and then first one end then the other dropped.

"There's something else to practice," said Mrs. Longbottom. "There are lots of good reasons to learn to use both hands. Your right arm could get injured,…"

"Or deboned," said Neville with a laugh, reminding Harry of the time that happened to him in second year.

"Or it could get caught or you could be in such a tight place that you can't aim with your right. Also, you can cast spells even faster than you were if you can alternate wands. You can also use the left hand for protective spells or Disapparating while using your right for spells you need good aim for. Now give a try with that cistern there – see how fast you can heat it up."

Harry alternated wands while repeating "Thermo" as fast as he could until he was tongue-tied. Half the spells cast with his left hand missed, but still the water in the cistern was steaming by the end of the twenty seconds he had been casting spells at it. He had hit it with some thirty-odd heater spells in that period.

"Wow," said Harry, amazed.

"Alright, Harry!" said Neville.

"Never think that there is only one way to do magic, and prepare for everything. Those who would hurt you don't play by rules, and will look for any little weakness to exploit. You should consider getting yourself a second wand – you have the skill to use it, and the need as well."

In the morning during breakfast, Mrs. Longbottom told Harry "On Sundays, Neville and I visit his parents at St. Mungo's. You and Dobby are welcome to stay here if you would like or return to your relatives' house."

Harry thought about it, remembering seeing Neville's parents the previous Christmas. "Mrs. Longbottom, I don't want to intrude, but if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to come with you."

Neville spoke up "Harry, you don't have to, really"

"I know, Neville. It's just that I think it's important I keep in mind what the people I will probably have to face are capable of."

Mrs. Longbottom smiled benevolently. "Certainly you may. You're right – a fighter should know what the fight is about. And I'm afraid you have no choice but to fight."

Harry excused himself and went to the kitchen, where Dobby had taken to having his meals with the other elves. "Dobby, the Longbottoms and I are going to St. Mungo's to visit Neville's parents."

"Does Harry Potter want Dobby to come along as well?"

Harry shrugged, "As far as I'm concerned, it's up to you. A visitation with very sick people can be pretty grim."

"You will be with Mrs. Longbottom, Harry Potter?"

"Erm, well, yeah, like I said."

"Dobby has been told you will be safe when around her, and Dobby is making new friends here with Gilly and Gumbo, so if Harry Potter does not mind, Dobby will stay here."

Harry nodded. "I think that's best, Dobby. I just didn't want you to feel you were neglecting duties. I know how that upsets you."

"Not neglecting, Harry Potter. Harry Potter will be with Mrs. Longbottom, so he will be safe. Dobby's duties are attended to."

Harry returned to the small dining room (the manor house had a very large formal dining room for accommodating feasts for all those of the surrounding estate and guests) where Neville and Mrs. Longbottom were. "Dobby will stay here with your elves," he said, "I hope it won't be a problem that I don't have any more proper clothes than the jeans and shirt I have on."

"It's no problem, Harry. I don't dress up any either," said Neville.

"How will we get there? Can you apparate us there, Mrs. Longbottom?"

She smiled, benignly, "I could, but I have given up on doing that with Neville. It makes him sick."

"Really, Neville?" said Harry, "When Dobby apparates me, I think it feels great. It's portkeys and Floo Network that I can't take. Oh, and you can have the Knight Bus."

Neville laughed, "No thanks on the bus, but I find the Floo and portkeys to be no problem."

Harry shook his head, "So you aren't going to take apparation classes this year?"

Neville looked to his grandmother and then with a steely glint in his eye, looked back to Harry, "Gran says it's real useful for a fighter to be able to apparate, and it's pretty obvious that it would be. I'll be there. If I get another chance like we had last month, I aim to be effective."

"Neville, you were amazing at the Ministry. I'm just sorry I led you guys into that."

"I guess mistakes were made, but I don't regret going. What kind of Gryffindor would I be if I didn't stand by my friends?"

Harry noticed that Mrs. Longbottom was beaming and had an uncharacteristic touch of moistness gathering around her eyes. She cleared her throat huskily, "Yes, well, St. Mungo's is allowed to issue reusable two-way portkeys to families of the chronically ill, so that they may readily travel between home and hospital. We'll be using that."

She led them both over to a drawer in the side table and pulled out a box with a shiny bedpan in it. "I think this is their idea of humor. On the count of three, then, we will each touch the bedpan. We will be arriving at the lobby. One – Two – Three!"

As a contrast to Harry's visit at Christmas, this visit to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies had people openly greeting him and giving him thumbs-ups and other gestures of approval. At Christmas those whose behavior showed they recognized him acted as if he ought to be a patient rather than a visitor. Harry appreciated the difference, but was a bit annoyed that so many people had put so much credence in the word of the Ministry and the Daily Prophet newspaper. Harry then reminded himself that all any of these people knew about him was what they had heard from others – good or ill, true or not. For a month now he had been getting good press, so he was a hero. Who knows what the future would hold?

Harry was relieved to be under the penumbra of Mrs. Longbottom's imposing presence. They were able to sweep by those who would interrupt or stop them, and even Gilderoy Lockhart left them alone as they passed through to the rear of the ward. Nonetheless, there seemed to be people hanging about keeping an eye on him. Harry realized it could just be celebrity seekers or Order members he didn't know, but they could also be spies for Voldemort. He thought he should be careful, but he did not know anything which should not be revealed.

Harry recognized the frail, nearly vacant woman that Neville's mother had become from his Christmas visit. However he was hardly prepared for meeting Mr. Longbottom, whom he had only seen in photographs taken before Mr. Longbottom had been tortured into insanity. He had been a robust vigorous impressive man, but now he was a shell of a man, as thin as Harry when Harry had first arrived at Hogwarts and seemingly shrunken even in height. Mr. Longbottom was as gaunt as Sirius had been in the year after he had escaped Azkaban Prison.

They tried to discuss things, but the exercise seemed pointless. Mrs. Longbottom talked about events at home and in the wizarding world. She explained about Neville's OWL results, bragging on Neville profusely, at which Neville beamed, despite his parents' apparent lack of comprehension. She also introduced Harry and bragged on him, particularly for his work with the DA and helping Neville. Neville's parents nodded emptily and whistled tunelessly as she talked, and the only point Harry could see to the visit was so that they did not forget the couple confined in this facility. It worked. Harry felt a renewed feeling of revulsion and hatred for Bellatrix Lestrange, and he knew he would have to use all his Occlumency skills to put down these emotions. He had a lingering sense that even this rush of emotion was being felt by Voldemort, and this thought had him immediately working on managing his feelings.

After a bit over an hour, it was time to go. When they stood to leave, Neville's mother reached over and grabbed Harry's hand. She looked him in the eye and very briefly Harry felt an intense intelligence there which he had not previously noted. She grasped his hand in a double-handed shake, as someone would do when thanking someone vigorously. But while she was doing this, he felt a wad of waxy paper being pressed into his hand. He remembered how she had given Neville a wrapper from Drooble's gum at Christmas, and how dismissive Neville's grandmother had been. But it had nagged at him, since Neville had been saving them in the drawer Harry had seen opened, and Harry noted that it was all the same kind – Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. He immediately realized that this was intended as a secret gesture, so he palmed the wad of papers and stuffed it into his pocket, while acknowledging her handshake patronizingly. Then she turned to Neville, made a show of pulling out a wrapper, in such a way that Harry felt she was distracting from the possibility that she had given Harry anything, and gave it to him.

"Thanks, Mum," said Neville, with a tear at the corner of his eye.

"Alright, very good, Alice, dear, we'll be back in the middle of the week," said Grandmother Longbottom, and they all left.

Back at Neville's house, Dobby already had all of Harry's things packed. Neville and Harry spent a couple of hours practicing their spells before Harry had to return to Privet Drive where he could not do magic. Then they all had a lovely supper. Afterwards, as they tried to say farewells, Harry looked around at the house fondly, but then the image of its destruction and the crushed bodies of its residents, even the elves, intruded on his mind. His face took on a look of horror. He squeezed his eyes shut and put his hands over them, first covering them and then starting to dig his nails into them to try to make the vision stop. Before he could do anything, he felt a surprisingly strong grip on his wrists pulling his hands back.

"Potter! What is it, what are you seeing?" shouted Mrs. Longbottom. Harry told her, through his tears, and she continued. "Yes, Dumbledore warned me. Listen, the danger is not your fault. You aren't the cause and you aren't responsible. This is just another of the burdens you'll have to bear until the matter is over."

Hearing that, Harry relaxed and, blinking away his tears, he said "Then … you know about the Prophecy?"

"Of course, Harry, both the Potters and the Longbottoms were told once it was determined it could apply to either of you children,." she answered.

"What prophecy?" asked Neville.

"You haven't told him?" asked Harry.

"No, and he shouldn't know all of it – it would put you both in greater danger," said Mrs. Longbottom.

"But he should know something about it – Neville, 16 years ago there was a prophecy about the birth of a child who could defeat Voldemort. From the wording, it could have been either of us, but in trying to kill me first, he was destroyed, which showed that it was me. Of course, that's where I got this accursed scar. Part of the rest of it is that neither he nor I can rest until one of us has killed the other."

Neville silently gasped, and looked sadly at Harry. "So you're not training because you might have to fight, like the rest of us – you know that you'll have to. It's life or death for you?" said Neville quietly. Harry nodded, and Neville put a supportive hand on his shoulder.

"Harry," said Mrs. Longbottom, "I am already doing all I know of to do to counter Voldemort and his supporters. If there is ever anything that we can do to assist you, it only need be asked. And you are always welcome here at Longbottom Manor." Neville nodded his agreement.

Harry looked at Neville and said "Well, a fellow can always use a friend, so keep up with that, alright?"

"You've got it," replied Neville.

With that, Dobby took Harry by the hand, and after the farewells, he Apparated himself and Harry back to Harry's bedroom at Privet Drive.

Back at his kin's house Harry took out the wrappers and spread them on the bed. They were all fairly wrinkled, but there was nothing written on them, except of course the name of the gum (no content labeling requirements in the wizard world, noted Harry – that saved the twins a lot of trouble with their products). The only oddity Harry noticed was that they all had little holes in various places around them. An occasional hole would have been no surprise, but it looked like they had all been placed on very slender spindles several times. Harry was surprised to think that the Longbottoms might even have access to needles. Then the thought occurred to him that perhaps these were holes caused by hypodermic syringes – perhaps the Longbottoms' supply of gum was being injected with a poison to kill them or at least keep them incapacitated! He did not want to raise alarms unnecessarily. He wished Hermione were available, as she seemed to know everything, and particularly with parents who were dentists, in whose office she often helped out during the summers Harry knew, she would know about the sorts of marks syringes would make. He placed the wrappers in an envelope and placed them in his trunk so he could ask her later. Then he cleared his mind of the disturbing images of the day and went to bed.