"Can you transfigure me into Haripreet Batra again?" Harry asked.
"Yes, good idea. I think we also need to change your clothing as well—just to be safe," Healer Jordan said as she began to mutter the incantations that transformed his appearance.
"Hey, Harry—that's amazing. You look totally different. I'd never recognize you now," Neville said.
Harry ran his hands over his clothes that had flashed warm during the transfiguration, just as his skin and hair had—he was wearing a button-up light cotton shirt with a collar now made of light cotton and had an undershirt on as well. His shoes weren't trainers—they pinched his toes a bit and when he stepped in them, the soles were slick on the tile floor.
Harry was thinking that this was a lot of fuss for a quick trip over to invite Mrs. Longbottom over for lunch at the Center, but he was really curious about this reporter even though she creeped him out with her sugary voice and poisonous perfume.
Like Aunt Petunia when she wants something.
He wondered what Healer Jordan would do if she ran into her. He suspected that Healer Jordan would be a fierce opponent in any tussle—verbal, physical, or magical. He wouldn't want to get on her wrong side and he felt safe near her.
"I'll just finish up this bit of scrollwork that I was doing before we head over there. I'll meet you in the reception area in about 10 minutes, okay?" Healer Jordan asked as scrolls rustled on her desk and a quill started scratching across parchment.
"Sure, no problem. Thank you," Harry said as he and Neville headed toward the door.
"You can go through the south door, if you like—it leads directly into the reception area," Healer Jordan said absentmindedly.
Harry paused, "Um, could I show Neville the herb garden while we wait? He likes plants."
"Great idea, you know where it is, right?"
"Yep," Harry said. "Navigant herb garden. This way Neville."
Harry led Neville through the little room with the camp beds and out another door that opened to the courtyard herb garden—it was a mirror in many ways to the courtyard on the other side of the Center, except it was more open to the sky because there wasn't a tree.
Neville drew in a long breath, "Oh, this is so… " He seemed to be at a loss for words.
As soon as Harry went through the door, the heady aroma of the fragrant plants enveloped him—it was warm and humid and smelled of dirt and green growing things that reminded him of his time with Nio hus cherio kisa. Maybe if he could live in this garden, the little snake would be willing to stay with him. Maybe the whole family of snakes would be willing to relocate to this garden. He sighed.
"What is it, Harry," Neville asked.
"Oh, I was just thinking of a little snake friend I made at Privet Drive. I wish I could bring him here to live in this garden," Harry said before he really thought about it.
"I bet a snake would love this place," Neville seemed to be captivated. "I would love to live here."
Harry realized that he didn't really know what it looked like. He hadn't used his staff to describe it when he'd worked in here before with Besel.
Though as he thought about it, he knew that the door was oddly shaped because he had to duck to go through without hitting his head and that it was made of old wood held together by rusting metal slabs bolted on with thick nuts and iron hinges that had creaked as he pushed through. He knew that the path to the central raised bed was made up of firmly set flat stones with squishy mossy plants that grew between the slabs, sometimes overtaking them completely. He knew that the courtyard was small and contained by walls all around it that opened to the sky by the way his voice echoed in the space and the sun seared his eyes. He knew that in addition to the central bed of herbs, there were pots of plants that lined the walls because his staff had tinged against them in the crowded walkway and that some of the plants snaked their way up the walls, capturing some of the echoes and sending down heady fragrances of blooming flowers from above him.
He had an idea of what the beds of herbs were like because he'd been digging in them. He knew their soft leaves, spiky stalks, and bitter aromas. He knew that they were in raised beds contained by a stone wall that was wide enough to sit on and at just the right height—forming a bench all the way around.
He had run his hands over the rounded and moss-covered stone wall, topped with flat stones to form the bench. He knew that the bed was keyhole-shaped and that there was an entrance that allowed Besel easy access to the center of the bed.
He knew that on the other side of the courtyard was a hiccuping fountain that contained fish that burbled the surface of the water occasionally eating insects. His feet had felt the difference in the surface of the stone that surrounded the fountain making a small stone patio.
To the right of the fountain were some wrought iron chairs and a spindly table where he and Besel had sat and talked for a bit about what it meant to grieve while he ran his fingers over the leaf patterns sculpted into the chair.
He could imagine the various shades of greens punctuated with soft lavender and maybe an occasional gaudy red of a pot of geraniums. He thought that the walls must be a sun-warmed yellow and decided that he didn't need his staff to tell him what it looked like. He already knew enough.
He settled on the low wall around the keyhole garden next to Neville who had started identifying the herbs, listing their properties (as he knew them), and what potions they'd be used in.
"Wow, you really know a lot, Neville," Harry said. "You never mention any of this in Potions."
"Well, Gran has a great garden and I like working in it. I've learned a lot there," Neville said. "And I can't speak in front of Professor Snape, you know. He's… "
"Yeah, well. Maybe he'd stop picking on you so much if he knew that you actually understand what he's talking about."
"I doubt it. He's just as terrible to Hermione and she knows everything… " Neville tapered off.
"Yeah, right. Git," muttered Harry. "Why does he teach when he hates children so much?"
"No idea."
The door creaked and Healer Jordan's sharp steps sounded on the paving stones.
"Are you boys ready to head over to St. Mungo's?"
As they walked over to the Egress to St. Mungo's, Healer Jordan and Neville talked about the potions garden at the Center.
"Healer Jordan, would it be okay if I brought my mum over to the garden? I think she'd really enjoy it," Neville asked thoughtfully.
"She's a resident in the Janus Thickey Ward, yes?" Healer Jordan said.
"Yes, but she's allowed to leave for walks on the grounds if she's attended. St. Mungo's doesn't have anything as nice as the potions garden, though," Neville said.
"I'll talk with her Healer while we're at St. Mungo's and see if we can reach an agreement."
"Thank you, Healer Jordan," Neville said and his arm trembled a bit under Harry's hand.
Healer Jordan walked over to the panel on the south wall of the reception area and Harry heard the sounds of St. Mungo's slide through as the Egress opened. He heard a busy corridor with people rushing to and fro—quick footsteps and harried voices speaking of potions and magical treatments. They were definitely leaving the serenity of the Center.
"Neville, will you please lead us to your Gran?" Healer Jordan asked.
"Sure, Healer Jordan. It's just this way," Neville said as he stepped through the Egress, leading Harry. Harry took in a deep breath, wondering if he'd be able to smell that reporter's perfume right away.
All he could smell was the normal hospital smells—a mixture of medicinal potions (dominated by Pepper-up) with an undercurrent of fear-sweat and cleaning potions. St. Mungo's had a distinctive odor—one that he associated with stress and trauma.
Harry heard the ding of a bell and elevator doors sliding open and the footsteps of passengers as they exited. Neville started walking faster and pulled Harry through into the enclosed space of the elevator. Healer Jordan was right behind them and Harry heard something else that sounded out of place… the buzzing of insect wings among the noises of other passengers, one of whom was using a levitating chair like Besel's, but making noises that made Harry certain it was not Besel. There was a sickening sweet smell that reminded him of insects trapped in a jar.
"Is there a bug in here?" he asked, but both Healer Jordan and Neville said they didn't see a bug.
Maybe a bug hitched a ride from the Potions garden.
The elevator announced each floor in a strangely saccharin voice as the doors opened and closed and people entered and exited the small space. It announced that they had reached the fourth floor.
"This is our stop, Harry—er," Neville stopped and asked in a stage whisper, "What's your name again?"
Harry cringed, "Haripreet Batra."
Healer Jordan made a hissing noise.
"Right, Haripreet. Haripreet Batra. I've got to remember that," Neville said to himself.
The person in the levitating chair stayed on the elevator and Harry's staff hit the chair as he and Neville tried to get around it and out of the door. Harry couldn't hear the insect wings and wondered where it was. He shivered, imagining it crawling on him.
Healer Jordan's steps sounded even sharper in the St. Mungo's corridor. He wondered what the floor was made out of—it wasn't stone or tile like Hogwarts or the Center and it occurred to him that it sounded rather like floors at the muggle hospitals and department stores and that seemed strangely out of place.
He breathed in the air again, realizing that he was nervous about encountering that reporter. But he didn't smell any noxious perfume here either, though the smell from the elevator lingered.
Neville had stopped and had pressed what sounded like a buzzer. They must have been in front of locked doors. Harry heard footsteps on the other side of the doors and the pop of magic—and the doors opened.
"Mr. Longbottom. It's good to see you. And you've brought guests?" A matronly sounded witch addressed them.
"Yes, this is Healer Jordan from the Per… Flamel Center," Neville stumbled, "and this is my friend, Hari-preet Batra, he's training at the Fla… the Center."
"Right, well, welcome both of you. Here to visit your parents?"
"Um, yes," Neville stammered as they were ushered into the ward that was very much quieter than the corridor. Harry wondered if the ward was magically silenced—it didn't sound natural as he shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot.
Neville footsteps echoed loudly. Harry tried to make his steps quieter, but they seemed loud as well—the slick surfaces making clacking noises he wasn't used to. He wished he was still wearing his rubber-soled trainers. He hit is staff occasionally on things—metal bed legs and rolling carts and the tinging noise resounded in the space. He thought about collapsing it, but then figured he'd make even more noise if he crashed into a cart. Neville was still getting the hang of guiding him.
"Gran?" Neville said. Harry heard curtains with metal rings being drawn back.
"Neville. I was wondering when you were coming back. Oh, hello? You've brought visitors? I thought you were visiting Harry Potter… "
"Gran, this is Healer Jordan from the Center… and Hari… preet Batra," Neville said nervously. After Healer Jordan and Harry greeted the elder Mrs. Longbottom, Neville continued, "We were wondering if you'd want to join us for lunch at the Center."
"Haripreet Batra? Of the Batra family of Leeds?" Mrs. Longbottom asked.
"Er, no. My family is from New Delhi, actually," Harry said.
"You don't sound like you're from Punjab," Mrs. Longbottom sniffed.
"Well, I've lived here my whole life, haven't I," Harry said, feeling his ears grow hot.
"Oh, right. So you're also blind and in training at the Center? And why did you come with Neville and not his friend Harry Potter?" Mrs. Longbottom asked.
Healer Jordan coughed slightly and spoke before Harry could answer said, "Neville also thought that your daughter-in-law might enjoy visiting our potions garden—we have an Egress that allows for easy travel between St. Mungo's and the Center, if you think she'd enjoy it, I can talk to her Healer to make arrangements."
"Oh, well. Yes. Alice has already had her mid-day meal, but she does enjoy plants. A little too much, actually. We had to stop bringing potted plants to her here because she'd just strip them down to the stems and they died. But I imagine a short time in the garden will be okay. I'm sure that Healer Strout will approve. I'll go ask her. And yes, I would love to join you for lunch. Will Harry Potter will be joining us there?" Mrs. Longbottom asked.
"Er, yes, Gran. He will," Neville said, as his Gran bustled away down the ward and Healer Jordan followed her.
"Harry—er, Haripreet, this is my mother, Alice Longbottom," Neville said. Harry wasn't aware that someone else was in the area, but now that he was paying closer attention, he realized that he could hear a very faint paper-rustling sound. Neville had pulled him through the curtain.
"Hello, Mrs. Longbottom," Harry said.
"She doesn't talk," Neville said quietly.
Harry wasn't sure what to do—he stuck out his hand in case Mrs. Longbottom was wanting to shake his hand. Soft hands fluttered over his and turned his palm upward and then dropped something light into his hand. He let go of Neville's arm so that he could feel what Alice had placed in his hand. It was a very small and intricately folded piece of paper.
"Er, thank you," Harry said as he turned his face toward Neville, drawing his brows together in a question.
"It's a wrapper—folded into a crane, she makes them out of any paper she can find," Neville whispered.
"Thank you, Mrs. Longbottom," Harry said again.
She had started making small noises with paper again.
"Is your dad here, too?" Harry asked.
"Yes, but he just lies in bed. He doesn't do anything. He's in worse shape than mum," Neville said and led Harry to another area of the curtained-off area. Harry reached out and found the soft form of a mattress covered with tightly stretched sheets.
"I know that mum knows when I visit—she always has things for me—bits of paper that she's folded for me, but dad never changes." Neville's voice was even and matter-of-fact, he sounded old—not like a 12-year-old boy.
"I'm really sorry that I never asked about your parents, Neville," Harry said, the recent grief that he'd uncovered for his own family feeling raw and near the surface and intermingling with the profound sadness that he felt for his friend. He felt a deep sense of regret that he had not been a better friend to Neville. It made him wonder about his other friends at Hogwarts. What else had he missed as he had been so caught up in his own worries?
"It's okay," Neville said. "I didn't tell you and now you know. It's not something… just don't talk about it with anyone else, okay? I mean. I hate it when people feel sorry for me. I thought … well, that you'd understand, right?"
"Yeah. I get it," Harry said and he heard footsteps approaching. He squeezed his staff to get a description of the room and the Longbottoms and then immediately regretted it—the staff's description was even bleaker than what he had imagined. He set his staff on the floor before it was done.
"Haripreet and Neville—Healer Strout said that Alice may travel with us to the Center as long as she stays in my care while she's there—I have about an hour that I can spend with you in the garden and we'll just eat our lunch there," Healer Jordan explained.
"Thank you, Healer Jordan. That's really kind of you," Neville said. "I'm so glad."
"While Healer Strout is helping your mother change to go out, I'm going to pop down to the reception area and see if I can learn anything about the Daily Prophet reporter. I'll meet you at the Egress in a few minutes, okay?" Healer Jordan said and Harry half expected her to apparate away, but she just walked down the corridor at her usual fast pace, robes swishing and hard-heeled shoes clipping along.
"She seems like a very capable and direct leader," Mrs. Longbottom said. "Let's wait out here while Healer Strout helps Alice."
Harry was surprised when a bony hand grasped his elbow and pulled him out into the passage between the curtained areas and he stumbled a bit and gasped.
"Gran, don't pull Harry—he can walk on his own," Neville said.
"Harry?" Mrs. Longbottom said letting go of his arm, for which Harry was grateful.
"Haripreet—Harry for short," Harry supplied. Harry felt something move on his shoulder and made a move to brush it off, but didn't find anything there.
"Hmmm," was all Neville's Gran said as Neville offered Harry his elbow and they walked out to the corridor to wait for Alice.
Harry was thinking that if Nio hus cherio kisa was with him, he wouldn't have to worry about some bug. Little Friend would have taken care of it in a heartbeat and he smiled as he imagined the crunching.
"Why are you smiling?" Neville asked.
"Just thinking about the snake I told you about, Little Friend, and how he liked to eat bugs," Harry said.
"I'm surprised that you like snakes after what happened," Neville said.
"Oh, well, Little Friend is tiny—not some enormous Great-Hall-sized serpent that wanted to eat me. It's different," Harry said.
"Could you talk to the Basilisk? Why couldn't you get it to stop?" Neville asked.
"Tom Riddle was the one it was listening to—I tried, believe me," Harry said.
"Tom Riddle?" Neville asked. "Who's that?"
"Er, it's a long story. I'll tell you later," Harry said, remembering that he wasn't supposed to be talking about it in public.
Neville's Gran joined them in the corridor with Alice who took shuffling hesitant steps. Healer Strout's voice followed them through the door with a litany of instructions that the elder Mrs. Longbottom responded to absentmindedly—as if she already had heard them many times before. The door cut Healer Strout's voice off mid-instructions.
They made slow progress toward the elevator at the end of the corridor. Neville's Gran was talking but not really saying anything. Harry followed Neville's lead.
The doors to the elevator opened and a rush of footsteps flooded toward them, some accompanied by voices in deep conversation, flowing around their slow-moving group as if they were rocks in a stream.
The door to the elevator closed before they were able to reach it and they waited for it to return. Still Gran Longbottom spoke to her daughter-in-law about little nothings—the distance to the elevator, the number of people in the hallway, the light that seemed to be flickering (Harry couldn't tell—it wasn't bright enough for him to notice the fluctuations in intensity—he stared at the ceiling for a while trying to see if he could see it). Neville was very quiet the whole time, though it seemed as though his mother was fiddling with his other hand that wasn't occupied with guiding Harry. Harry wished he could read the expression on Neville's face—he didn't know if his silence was uncomfortable or sad or simply quiet.
It occurred to him that maybe Neville was embarrassed about his family situation—he knew that pain acutely—but he didn't know how he could put Neville at ease.
Gah, I'd trade places with Neville anytime… but I wouldn't wish the Dursleys on Neville … ever.
Finally, they were headed down to the main floor and down the corridor to the Egress. Harry's shoes were noisy in the corridor and he didn't like the way they slid around under him.
"Here we are Gran," Neville said stopping in the middle of the corridor. "This is where we cross to the Center."
"The Egress, is it?" Gran responded in a totally different voice than the sing-song one she'd been using to talk to Neville's mother. It was a jarring change of tone.
"Here comes Healer Jordan," Neville said to Harry quietly. "She looks angry."
Harry stiffened.
What would make Healer Jordan angry?
"We need to cross over now," she said before she'd even reached them.
Harry reached out, trying to find the panel that he had heard Besel using on Thursday. He was farther away from the wall than he realized and his hand passed through empty air.
"Navigant panel for the Egress to the Center," he tried, but Healer Jordan reached it first and he heard the Egress opening.
"Come now," she barked.
Mrs. Longbottom seemed to be dragging her daughter-in-law forward and Neville and Harry were on their heels. As they passed through Harry felt something zap his neck, right under the collar of his buttoned shirt.
"Ow!" he yelled as he snatched his hand from Neville's arm to slap his neck where he'd been stung and felt something large fall from under his collar. He heard it hit the floor—it almost sounded metallic, but not quite. "What was that?"
Someone grasped him by the forearm and pulled him through to the Center and the Egress closed behind him. Harry thought it might have been Healer Jordan.
"What happened, Harry?" Healer Jordan and Neville asked simultaneously.
"I feel like I was electrocuted… something was under my collar. I think it was that bug that I heard buzzing earlier. It was big!" He held up his fingers to indicate its size.
"Electo- what?" Neville asked.
"It's like being hit with a hexing curse, but with muggle electricity—you know—how muggles power their lights and things," Harry explained.
"Oh," said Neville. "It hurts?"
Harry nodded still rubbing the back of his neck.
"Hmmm. That's odd. That's what the Egress does when someone tries to cross who isn't authorized or invited by one of our residents," Healer Jordan said. "But you said you thought it was an insect? It shouldn't do that… an insect should just not be able to pass through… unless…" Healer Jordan moved back to the panel and opened the Egress again quickly, passing through. Harry thought he had heard her wand swish through the air, but maybe he was just imagining it. In just seconds, she was back through and closing the Egress again.
"What's going on?" Neville's Gran demanded to know. "And why do you keep calling him 'Harry'?"
"Let's move to my office before we discuss this further," Healer Jordan suggested.