Chapter II: There is a Wisdom that is Woe
"More cranberry sauce on those tartar biscuits, good sir?" the shrivel voice of the elderly nurse asked as she poked her raven-hair covered head through the guest window. Four black bars divided her face evenly from the view inside the chamber. Looking at her with beady, large coal drop eyes was a swollen face of perplexity.
He did not move a splinter from his resting seat, but instead, continued to queerly gawk at the nurse as if she reminded him of someone he knew he should have known; the respectable nurse now tapped the plastic window pane four times, releasing an enchantment code that vanished his brunch from the outside world and reappeared it next to the half giant's feet.
"Poor soul. You don't deserve such an ending," the nurse whispered to herself as she turned her back to the peek hole and headed to the next room down the hall. While gradually approaching the next doorway, the nurses' flat shoes squished along the wet floor newly scrubbed. The squishing stopped.
In front of an old, worn down looking door, the nurse reached down into her white coat pocket and took out a shiny gold key. Gently, she placed the key into its matching hole, and turned it three times until there was a loud crack. With her hand shaking a bit, the lady turned the knob, letting the coldness of the metal bring her senses to their peak. After turning it as many times that it would go, the nurse pushed the door forward with her right forearm and used her foot as a stopper.
A room, larger than the one before, stared back hollow. Inside there was one mattress, pushed against the upper corner so that the back of the door hid it from site. However, the nurse was all too familiar with this place, visiting often a night to ensure no suicidal attempts took hold of the patients. A man and woman resided here after a long stay at St.Mungo's Hospital where Hagrid had dwelled not too long ago.
"Are the Mister and Misses about?" the nurse asked sweetly, trying ever so hard not to mention their surname. For you see, at the mere mention of their true identity the married couple tends to blast out in fits, unable to control themselves. They scream their son's name hundreds of times until they finally forget why they are screaming and settle down into a sleeping state of mind.
"Light! Light! Light! Light! Light! Light!" a man's voice howled back, each repeating word louder than the first.
However, he was not pleading for the nurse to turn on the light. This was just one of his ramblings which the nurse could not fathom to understand. Perhaps it was an illusion to the man's (well wizard's) past life or meant something incredibly brilliant that only the man's own woe could overpower. There is a wisdom that is woe within him and within him is a secret condemned to be forgotten.
"Fie! Fie!" the man now shouted in a much more vicious tone.
From out of the corner of the nurse's eye she spotted a dashing figure blending into the shadows, but the nurse was not afraid of them; too long had she been dealing with such a dreadfully fated pair. Many years ago, when she had been first met the pair at St.Mungo's Hospital, their young son was visiting them with his grandmother clutching his hand. At the time, she was calling on an old friend, a dear cousin Lockhart whose mind had fretfully been bent. Upon seeing him, the nurse heard a rambling much like this and first met the couple. Their son, a Hogwart's student, seemed uncomfortable with her presence and so she left, unknowing she would meet with them ago soon enough.
"I have some butterbeer for you," the nurse lied, trying to calm her dear old friend.
The wizard sniffed the air. "I don't smell it."
"Oh, do you remember what butterbeer smells like?" the nurse asked with her voice perked. It had been a while since the wizard had connected the real world to his past. However, his brief moment passed and within seconds, the man shouted,
"Mungo, Mungo, Mungo!"
He did not know the meaning of the word, the place he and his wife had been locked up in so many years ago. The nurse shook her head in disappointment and walked over to a hidden pewter candle standing on an iron cask. It stood in the corner, hidden by the shadows of the miserably room. Using a small match, she flashed it against the wall and lit the small wicker dangling on the top of the white pillar of wax.
An eerie glow emerged, piecing the shadows around it and revealing the unshaven face of the crazed wizard. Behind him was a woman with long gray curls all crisp and unkept. She frowned at the sight of the nurse and scurried on top of the uncovered mattress lying on the floor behind the open door. She rarely spoke with sanity unlike her husband who showed some glimmer of hope.
"My dear, if you are hungry enough, I can bring you some banana pancakes with honey. I know you used to like them."
And with that, the nurse sauntered toward the door, her shaking hands reaching toward the knob to close it. Before she reached it, though, the crazed wizard jumped in front of her, his eyes beady and wide. As the nurse looked into them, she pitied the soul wailing to be released, trapped in an insane frame.
"Hogwarts," the wizard mumbled and ran off into the corner with his wife. He tripped over the mattress and buried his face into the springy surface.
"What?" the nurse asked in shock. He had never uttered the school that his son attended without going off into a frenzy.
The wizard would not talk again though. Instead, he attempted to suffocate himself with the mattress, squeezing his face hard into the squishy surface. The nurse scrambled over to him and tried to pry his body off the mattress. After two hard tugs, she was able to lift his head, forcing him to gasp the air. He turned over onto his back, his face all sweaty and pink, and huffed in deep breathes.
"You said Hogwarts before, didn't you?" the nurse asked.
But the calm voice the wizard had for a brief second before was replied with moans and screams from him and his wife. They yelled their son's name as they have done before. They would settle down on their own after a few hours, and the nurse knew from experience she had to let them shout for a while until they stopped.
And so, the nurse headed for the door, their yelling following her, and she slowly closed it behind her. Just as she was about to lock the door with her key, she could her a more whimpered shout from the room. They still cried out their son's name, but in a more depressing tone.
"Neville! Neville!" They cried. But the nurse could not bring their son to them, for it would be too dangerous. She locked the door, letting a tear shed from her own eye in compassion for their souls.
"I meant to tell you earlier," Neville said as he ate his breakfast that Harry had kindly made for him. Chunks of muffins flew out his mouth as he spoke, showing what a typical young man he was, full of loose manners and gross habits.
"But you wanted it to be a surprise, right?"
"Exactly, Harry. You are happy about this, aren't you?"
Harry looked down at his breakfast, untouched by him. When he gazed up, he brightly smiled at Neville and said, "Of course I am. What kind of a friend would I be if I was not happy for you?"
"Thanks, Harry."
But he was not happy with Neville's news. Harry knew that it was only a matter of time before the house was all his, and he had no one to share it with. Dobby kept seeing his girlfriend, Winky, every other night, and soon, he would probably try to marry her. Even if Dobby and Winky decided to stay with Harry, it would be more of a burden than anything else. Harry would have no one to speak to about his real issues since all Dobby would be thinking about is Winky (like he isn't now).
After breakfast, Harry dressed himself with his Muggle attire; a button up coat, jeans and hunter boots. He planned on sending out his invitations that afternoon, to give his friends some time to buy him a present and tell them that they could make it. A thick pile of sealed enveloped with the golden letter H sat upon the oak china cabinet. He was going to send them through the Owl Delivery system of course, but he could not expect Hedwig or Pig to deliver them all.
"Do you need any help?" Neville asked, watching Harry head for the door.
"No, I've got them. Thanks anyway. And good luck."
"Good luck with what?"
"I don't know. Just good luck."
Neville nodded, trying to understand. He continued chomping down his friend as Harry left. The outside was a beautiful day; a clear blue sky with little clouds, luscious green grass and trimmed bushes surrounding the ancient home. Harry would take a bus to the Owl Postage Service, and hopefully after that, he could visit Sirius's grave. He had not been there in two years—not because he did not want to respect his late godfather—he just did not want to unearth those unpleasant memories.
As Harry waited for the bus to arrive, he stared off into the glistening sun. Its fiery brilliance reminded him of his days playing on the Quidditch Team… Those days were over now. He would never again set his broom into flight over the green grasses and swoop all around in search for the golden snitch. He believed that he would never see Hogwarts again; but Harry was dead wrong. In fact, he'd be seeing a lot more of Hogwarts soon that he could ever imagine.