Disclaimer: I'm too young to be Rowling so there is sadly no way Harry Potter is mine…
Placing:29years after the war– and 6 after the first..
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sSsSsSsSs
LABELLED ROOM
sSs
Neville Longbottom looked up from where he was sitting in one of the trees in the arcade of Longbottom manor.
In his left hand, was a quill, in his right sat an ink pot.
The sleeve on his right arm was pulled back to the elbow and the inner side of his arm was painted black with different kind of odd symbols.
Inky symbols.
Neville was frowning at them.
He crooked his head to the left.
"Hmm," he whispered to himself. "Maybe… not."
For a moment, he frowned further at the symbols, then he crooked his head to his right.
"Or maybe… after all?"
Again, he stared at the symbols. Then he carefully switched the ink pot from his right to his left hand and then pulled back the other sleeve.
There, also a lot of black symbols could be seen.
"Hmmm," Neville repeated. "Maybe… like that…"
He thought about it another second or two, then nodded slowly.
"Yeah," he said slowly. "Maybe… a good idea."
With that, Neville took the ink pot back in his right hand and started to scribble further symbols onto his arm.
He was nearly done with scribbling down his thought process, when his grandmother exited the manor in search of him.
"Neville?" She called with a frown. "Neville!"
Neville looked up from his scribbles, frowned at his grandmother searching from, sighed and then decided to jump down back to the ground.
"Neville!" His grandmother, having seen him jumping, had raised her hand to her heart while looking at him appalled. "What were you doing up that tree?"
Neville just blinked up at his grandmother innocently while he hid the motion of finishing to screw shut the ink pot behind his back before hiding it in his robes.
"Sitting," he answered, as innocently as he could.
His grandmother frowned at him.
"Sitting?" She repeated with disbelief in her voice aghast. "Why should you try to sit in a tree, Neville?"
Neville looked at her as innocently as before.
"No, Gran," he said, still looking at her with huge, innocent eyes. "The question is: Why shouldn't I sit in a tree?"
His grandmother opened her mouth to answer, just to frown and close her mouth.
In the end, she shook her head.
"Neville, dear," she started to say, but was interrupted from saying anything more by an owl flying down from the sky. The owl landed on Neville's shoulder, holding out its leg so that Neville could take the package it carried.
"Oh," Neville said, taking the package and opening it. "Splendid!"
His grandmother frowned at him.
"Neville, what -?"
"Don't worry, Gran," Neville said, interrupting his grandmother absentmindedly. "It's something I've been waiting for for a few days already."
"You've been waiting… for potions, Neville?" His grandmother asked a bit hesitatingly, clearly unsure what to make of her confident grandson.
Neville inclined his head at his Gran.
"Yes, Gran," he agreed. "And now, please excuse me. I have to be somewhere else."
With that, he abandoned his grandmother in the arcade to return to the manor while slipping away the package into his robes.
"Neville, what –"
But Neville just waved his grandmother off and then entered the manor. Inside, he searched out the fireplace in his grandmother's study – the only fireplace in the manor connected to the floo.
He took some of the floo-powder, threw it into the fire and then called out Luna's address.
It was Luna's mother who answered the floo.
"Oh, hello Mrs. Lovegood," Neville greeted her with a smile. "May I talk to Luna for a second?"
The woman blinked, half-turned away from the fireplace and frowned, before she nodded.
"Of course, Neville," she agreed. "Just give me a moment."
Another twenty-eight seconds later, Neville was finally connected to Luna and his grandmother was standing behind him in the study.
"Hello Neville," Luna greeted him as dreamy as ever. "Have you gotten your package, yet?"
"I did," Neville agreed immediately.
"Oh," Luna said. "Did it work?"
Neville just smiled at the odd girl fondly.
"I don't know," he confessed. "I haven't tried it yet."
"Oh," Luna said, a bit confused. "Then why did you call?"
Neville snickered.
"I just wanted to tell you that Saturday is a go," he replied. "We're meeting in Diagon Alley if that's alright with you."
"Sure," Luna agreed immediately. "Mommy won't say no if she finds out I'm meeting a friend in Diagon Alley, don't worry, Neville."
"Good," Neville said, while nodding slowly. "See you on Saturday, then."
With that, he disconnected the floo-call and turned back to his grandmother.
"I'm in Diagon Alley this Saturday," he told her matter-of-factly.
The old woman frowned.
"Neville –"
"Don't worry," Neville assured her immediately. "Luna's mother is watching us."
For another second or two, his grandmother hesitated, but in the end she sighed and inclined her head.
"Alright, Neville," she agreed. "If Mrs Lovegood is watching you, I guess I can't object."
"Good," Neville said before turning back to the floo. "I'm going to St. Mungo's now, Gran. I know, Dad's birthday is tomorrow – but I don't think he'll mind if I come a day early, do you?"
At that, his grandmother frowned at him.
"You want to go to visit your parents?" She asked and Neville guessed that maybe it was a bit unusual for him. The hospital had always had a depressing atmosphere for Neville, so wanting to visit it wasn't that usual for him. On the other side, Neville was missing his parents – so going to visit them was the least he could do. In the future, he would go and visit them whenever he missed them, after all…
"Yes," he finally settled on saying, not bothering to explain himself. "I know that you will have guests this afternoon, so you don't have to accompany me. I'm six –" Or was he seven? Whatever. "– I think I'm old enough to visit my parents on my own."
His grandmother looked at him sadly at that.
"I guess you're right, Neville," she agreed with a sad look. "And it seems like you're actually growing up…"
Neville sent his grandmother a smile.
"I am," he agreed. "Now, dear Gran, will you excuse me?"
For a second, the proud but slightly tearful eyes of his grandmother settled on his face, then she inclined her head at him.
"I will," she told her grandson. "I wish you a good time at your parents'."
"Thank you, Gran," with that, Neville flooed off to St. Mungo's.
He was a bit surprised that his grandmother had accepted his wish to go to St. Mungo's alone – but then, he had flooed alone before and the hospital was one of the safest places in the British wizarding world – not even considering the fact that Neville was that often there that he knew the staff of St. Mungo's all by name and all of them knew him and looked after him…
Stepping out of the fire place in the entrance hall, Neville greeted the receptionist before walking to the ward where his parents had their room.
"Neville!" One of the nurses who treated his parents, greeted him surprised. "Are you here alone?"
"I am, Ms. Shepard," he replied. "Gran agreed that I'm finally old enough to visit my parents alone!"
The nurse smiled at that.
"Then I hope you will have a good visit," she agreed. "They're in their room. You can go in."
"Thank you, Ms. Shepard," Neville agreed.
With that, he walked down the hall to his parents' room and opened the door.
His father, like always, lay on the bed without moving. His mother, this time around was sitting on hers, humming and playing with some sweets she had gotten from the nurse.
It was the first time, since a long time, that he saw his parents again – and for a second, Neville's heart clenched.
There they were, trapped in their own bodies and minds, yet still together after all what had happened. And for a second, just for a second, Neville resented them for it.
They were still together, yet Neville stood there, alone and lost without the person who had meant the most in his life. Without Hannah, his beloved, sweet Hannah.
The next second, Neville felt ashamed of his thoughts.
Yes, his parents were still together – but they had lost their lives as well that day they –
Yet, they had at least managed to safe Neville, unlike Neville himself who had failed to safe his children…
Again, the feeling of resentment crept up, but he squashed it vigorously. Instead, he took a deep breath and greeted his parents calmly.
"Hey, Mum," Neville greeted her, not expecting a reply. "Hey, Dad."
His mother just continued humming and his father didn't move at all.
Neville pulled out of his robes the package he had gotten just half an hour ago.
He searched the package until he found the candy stored in one of the potion vials.
He remembered quite well that his mother loved any form of candy – ever had, since he could remember… exactly like his children had.
Neville swallowed and squished that thought before it fully formed. His children were gone and had been gone for eight years. He was doing fine, finally fine after years of living in a haze of rage and grief. He wouldn't go back there now, not, when he finally could change everything. Not, when he finally could rescue all those children from those who had killed them.
"Not all children," a voice whispered in Neville's mind – the voice sounding suspiciously like Harry. "You won't be able to safe your own… never your own."
Neville swallowed and tried to forget his thought.
No, he wouldn't be able to safe his own – but everybody else, he would… every else he would for Hannah and his children; for Ginny, James, Albus and Lily; for Astoria and Scorpius; for Rolf, Lorcan and Lysander – and for his parents as well…
With that, he banished his thoughts and returned to the presence and his parents in front of him.
"Look, Mum," Neville said, holding out one of the candies to his mother. "I've got some candy for you!"
His mother stared at his hand for a second or two. Then she reached out and took it from his hand in exchange for one of the wrappers she always gifted him with.
Neville took the wrapper, took a look at it and slipped it away like he always had done when he was a little child. He knew for a fact that he would put it to the other wrappers he had at home – a habit he had never changed even in the future.
Still, it was somehow nostalgic to hold a wrapper of his mother's and tucking it away in his shirt to ensure that his grandmother wouldn't see it and take it away from him to throw it away.
But then, his grandmother had never understood the importance of those wrappers…
Neville shook his head to get rid of that thought as well and smiled instead at his mother.
"Thank you, Mum," Neville said fondly before stepping up to the bed of his father and fiddling with the man's drip for a second or two. In the future, Neville had learned how to work with a drip – how to exchange it, how to add some potions to it, how to insert the needle connected to it into the vein, whatever.
When Neville had turned eighteen and the war was over, he had taken up a lot of the care of his parents and looking after his father's drip was something of a habit.
Of course, such familiar actions just ensured other familiar actions as well, so Neville turned away from the drip and looked at the door of his parents' room, expecting Hannah to enter any second or so.
For a second, he was disillusioned into thinking that he would see Hannah again any second now – then his memories returned to the present and his face fell.
Hannah would never come into his parents' room to call him home ever again.
She was gone – like his children were gone.
It took a second or two until Neville noticed that the world was blurring. He swallowed, rubbed his eyes and then took a deep breath.
His wife and children were gone. He hadn't been able to protect them – but at least, he had revenged them and would now ensure that nobody else would ever suffer like he had again.
"And you're not alone anymore," Neville assured himself. "Luna, Harry – Malfoy. We're all together, we're all the same in this… and we will all ensure that nobody will suffer like us again."
With that, he turned away his gaze from the door to look at his father again. Said man was still lying there on the bed, motionless, staring at the ceiling.
"Don't worry, Dad," Neville told the older man. "I will ensure that your sacrifice won't be in vain. That, I promise!"
His father just blinked, his eyes never focusing on Neville at all.
His mother, meanwhile, chewed her candy slowly with a look of concentration on her face. Neville didn't turn to look at her. He couldn't – not as long as she was sitting on the bed and therefore his gaze would have time to travel over to the empty doorway as well…
But Neville knew that he had to… had to look at his mother again, even if it meant that he had to bear the thought of an empty doorway again.
So, when his mother was done eating, Neville took a deep breath and then turned his attention back to her – letting his gaze skip over the closed and empty door – and then sat down next to her on her bed.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then Neville closed his eyes, sighed and started to talk.
"You know, Mum," he said. "I made a friend. Her name's Luna and I'll be meeting her in Diagon Alley this weekend."
His mother licked her lips and didn't react.
"She plans to change the world. I will be the one to pull the strings – but I need a bit of help," he told her. "You know, she plans to bring down the blood-purists, the Death Eaters who got away and the Dark Lord in hiding."
For a moment, Neville looked into nothing, then he snorted in amusement.
"And if I know her at all," he continued a bit amused. "While she's at it, she might take down the Ministry, the Headmaster of Hogwarts and reorders the Wizengamot just for the fun of it!"
His mother just played with her fingers, but Neville didn't mind. As long as his mother didn't walk away, he at least felt like she was listening to him.
"Of course," he told her. "We won't be able to do all that alone. We might be intelligent enough to pull it off, but we'd need a way into politics, and I don't think that Gran will let me enter there before I turn seventeen, you know? Well, I'll asked anyway… but I don't count on it…"
Like that, he continued.
Sitting there, he talked to her for an hour or two about anything childish, and not so childish he could think of – always mindful of the nurses and healers who entered the room sporadically to either keep an eye on him or because of his parents.
Sometimes, he would stand up and fiddle with his father's drip or hand his mother another candy, but then he would sit down again and just continue to talk – never telling anything of the future, but speaking about anything else he had done in the past… well, not their full plan to change the world, but a hint or two was added anyway.
In the end, it was his grandmother entering the room that ended his one-sided conversation with his parents.
"I think it's time to go home, Neville," she told him warmly after she had entered. "It's nearly dinner time."
Neville inclined his head at her.
"Of course, Gran," he agreed. "I'm coming."
He stood up, said his good-byes to his parents by hugging his mum who returned the hug nearly enthusiastically and by squeezing his dad's right hand whose finger twitched.
Then he left with his grandmother to return to the manor.
"Say, Gran," Neville said conversationally while walking away from his parents' room. "If I decided to take an interest in politics – would you mind letting me use some of our influence in the magical world before I'd come of age?"
His grandmother frowned at that.
"Neville," she replied sternly. "I know that you're growing up – but you're far too young to understand the consequences of the actions you might be envisioning right now. Believe me, grandson, politics is nothing for a little boy. Leave that for the adults right now. I and your Uncle will manage your obligations until you're old enough to do so yourself."
Neville pouted – even if he would deny that he did if he'd ever be asked. Of course, he hadn't expected his grandmother to agree, but the pout came anyway.
But then, Neville had expected the rejection, so he wasn't too crestfallen by it.
Oh well, there were other ways to ensure that Luna's vision would come true… and if there was no way, there was still the fact that Neville would be able to dabble in politics in ten years' time… or ten-ish, at least.
"Say, am I six or actually seven right now, Gran?"
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Hello, I'm somewhat back, not totally healthy but slowly getting better. Yet, Neville has some issues as well – but, what else did you expect of him?
I hope you liked him anyway… xD
'Till next time
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