Chapter 8 - Memories
Harry was still consulting with his team when Neville asked the question that had been bothering him ever since the blast occurred.
"How'd they know she was home? We only decided to come here a few minutes before we arrived."
"According to Seamus there were sensors placed on the ceiling of the flat below that were linked to a timer," Harry said. "When the system detected someone walking around in here it started the activation sequence. Whoever it was must have rigged it up after their attempt at the gala failed."
"Was anyone hurt?" asked Hermione.
"We got lucky. The flat in question was unoccupied and the only injury seems to be a downstairs neighbor that was in the hallway at the time."
"Who?"
Harry checked his notebook. "A Mrs. Wren?"
"No!" Hermione gasped. "Was she hurt badly?"
"I don't think so. Sounds more like bumps and bruises. Possibly a slight concussion. She was taken to St. Mungo's for evaluation. More as a precaution than anything else."
"I need to see if she's okay." Hermione started to push past him but Harry grabbed her elbow.
"Hold on! Someone just tried to kill you again! "
"Yes and because of that a sweet elderly woman that makes me cookies and brings me soup when she thinks I look unwell is now in hospital." Hermione fought the emotion building in her voice. "Before I do anything else I'm going to check on her. Period. End of discussion."
Neville stepped in before things grew more heated. "You know she won't rest until she does this, Harry. I'll go with her. We'll floo there, she can check on her friend then we'll apparate back to where we were last night."
Knowing he was fighting a losing battle, Harry reluctantly agreed and soon Neville and Hermione were at St. Mungo's visiting the elderly Mrs. Wren, who assured her young friend that she was fine, thank you very much. She quite proudly informed them that she'd lived through two wars, three husbands and six children and it would take more than an explosion to bring her down. When Hermione hugged her, the woman loudly whispered a compliment on her taste in 'gentleman friends' that caused both Neville and Hermione to blush.
As they left the room, Neville headed towards the nearest apparation point but Hermione stopped him.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"You've seen that your friend is okay. Now I'm getting you out of here."
"Not before visiting your parents."
"Hermione, we should really get you..."
"Not before visiting your parents," she repeated, stressing each word individually.
"We ought to..."
"I insist, Neville. We can't be this close and not see them."
Neville wavered, torn between the desire to check on his family and the need to keep Hermione safe. "But I don't want you to end up in hospital."
"It'll be fine. I promise. Come on," she said, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the stairs. "We'll go up the back way if it makes you feel better. It's just one floor up."
Before he could mount a proper argument they were entering the Janus Thickey Ward for patients suffering irreparable spell damage. As they neared the large doors they were welcomed warmly by the Matron.
"Mister Longbottom! So good to see you again! And Miss Granger! It can't be the second Tuesday of the month already!"
Neville tried to mask his surprise that the woman was so familiar with Hermione, who smiled and returned the greeting. "Hello, Miriam! We were visiting someone downstairs and thought we'd stop by. I hope that's okay."
"Not a problem at all, dear. Always glad to see our patient's families as well as our favorite patron."
Before Neville had the opportunity to ask questions, the motherly looking woman bustled around the desk and ushered them into the locked ward. He spotted his parents standing in the middle of the room and made his way over to them.
"Hullo, Mum. Hullo, Dad."
The pair gave him a blank, polite smile then turned their attention back to the colorful bracelet adorning his mother's wrist.
"She's gotten ever so much pleasure out of that, Miss Granger," said Miriam.
Curiosity finally got the better of Neville, who blurted, "Okay. Hold on. What's going on here?"
"Don't you know? Miss Granger is one of our most involved patrons," the woman stated proudly. "She visits regularly and she's responsible for establishing a consortium of magical hospitals around the world which share research and treatments for those suffering from severe spell damage."
"No. No, I did not know that, Miriam," Neville said, staring at Hermione, who waved off the praise.
"I simply introduced the right people. It's healers like Miriam that do the real work."
"And that?" Neville asked, gesturing at the piece of jewelry that was the focus of his mother's attention.
"I was wearing it on my last visit. She seemed taken with it so I gave it to her." Hermione shrugged as she started walking towards an elderly couple sitting at a table along the far wall playing cards with used drink coasters. "You visit with your parents. I'm going to check on Agnes and Barnaby. In case you haven't noticed they get cranky if they feel they're being ignored."
Neville kept one eye on Hermione as he spoke quietly with his parents, telling them about his trip to France and how happy he was to be back so he could visit more frequently again.
He was relating his desire to one day teach Herbology full time at Hogwarts when Miriam approached. "We're about to serve lunch, Mr. Longbottom. Will you and Miss Granger be staying for that?"
"No, Miriam. Thank you but we really must be going."
"We'll be back soon, though. I promise," said Hermione.
"As always, we look forward to it."
The woman was escorting the pair out when Neville felt a soft tug on his sleeve. He turned to find his mother standing there with her hands extended. In her open palms were two cellophane candy wrappers, twisted and knotted in the middle so they now resembled butterflies. She stared at a spot somewhere past both of them but it was clear she wanted them to accept her offerings.
Neville and Hermione each took one. Neville placed one in his inside pocket while Hermione carefully deposited hers in her handbag.
"Thanks, Mum." Neville gave the woman a peck on her cheek.
"Thank you very much, Mrs. Longbottom. Stay well. I'll see you soon." Hermione waved fondly as they started towards the door.
As they made their way to the nearest apparation point Neville asked, "How long have you been visiting my parents?"
"I became a patron to the ward soon after the war. At first I visited on a quarterly basis. When you went to Beauxbaton's last year I started dropping in more frequently so I could check in on them."
"Why?"
"I liked seeing them. Knew you wouldn't be able to travel as much so I thought I'd fill in 'til you got back."
He studied her carefully as they continued down the hall. He felt there was more to the story but decided to wait and pursue the topic at a more opportune time.
They reached the designated spot and apparated back to Neville's place, where he showed her upstairs to a room across the hall from his own.
"You can have this one if you like. It's the largest of the guest rooms. Sorry, about the state of the place. I do know some housekeeping spells and I try to keep on top of things but the place is so big I tend to just focus on the spaces I use on a regular basis."
Seeing the look on her face he added, "And before you ask - no. There are no house elves. Once Gran died I made sure the two that attended to her got jobs at Hogwarts. They make a decent wage and I even gave them a few of Gran's hats as presents when they left."
Hermione smiled at the thought of a pair of tiny elves bustling around the school wearing Augusta's elaborate headgear. "Thank you, Neville. The room is lovely. You've been an exceptional host and I appreciate everything you've done. Honestly."
He provided her with a supply of fresh towels and linens then left her alone to get settled into her temporary home.
Over dinner he followed her lead in regards to conversation, unsure how much of her current circumstances she wanted to talk about. She focused mainly on her anxiety about falling behind on her work and he promised that when the promised files arrived he'd help her set up an appropriate space in the family library.
The mention of a dedicated library immediately sparked her attention and he was barely able to convince her to finish her meal before showing it to her.
"I was going to give you a proper tour of the whole place tomorrow, but if you insist..." He opened the door leading into a room filled with floor to ceiling bookshelves overflowing with volumes of all shapes and sizes.
Her eyes widened as she walked slowly around the space.
"Help yourself to anything you need. Once Harry brings your paperwork feel free to take over the desk if you like or one of the reading tables if that works better for you. Should be plenty of parchment and ink on hand but if you need more just let me know."
She made her way to the large desk at the far end of the room. She ran a hand lightly over its dark mahogany surface before picking up a small photo in a simple silver frame. It showed a beautiful young, round faced woman with short hair holding a happy little boy in her arms. Next to them stood an attractive man whose eyes and jaw strongly resembled Neville's. They both looked lovingly at the child then all three smiled for the camera.
"Me and my folks. That was taken a week before they were attacked."
"Do you remember your parents at all? From before, I mean."
"Not really. What memories I do have I think I manufactured from stories I heard then repeated to myself so often they became real to me. Anything to stay connected to them, I suppose. That's why I carried my dad's wand until I was sixteen. I know it negatively affected my performance at school but it was a way to feel close to him, you know?"
He looked at Hermione and was startled to see tears running down her face. He reached for her but she recoiled from him. "Hey. What's wrong?"
She quickly wiped her face. "Nothing."
"You're crying. That's not nothing."
"I'm fine."
"I don't believe you."
She set the picture down and tried to walk away. "Are you saying I'm a liar?"
He gently took her by the elbow and turned her around. "I'm saying I think there's something you aren't telling me and I wish you'd trust me enough to share whatever that is because it's obviously upsetting you."
"I - I can't."
"Why? Have you taken some sort of vow or something?"
"No. It's nothing like that, it's just..." She looked up and for one of the few times in his life, he saw genuine fear in her eyes.
"Hermione? What's wrong? You're starting to scare me."
"I can't. If I tell you, there's a chance you might hate me."
He moved his hands to her shoulders. "Let's get something straight right now. I said I'd always tell you the truth and the truth is that it would be physically impossible for me to hate you, Hermione Granger."
He saw tears forming again so pulled her down next to him onto a nearby window seat. "Please. Talk to me. Tell me what's got you so upset."
She burst into tears and he took her in his arms as she poured out the truth about her parents. They hadn't died in a car accident, as she'd led most everyone to believe. She admitted how she'd obliviated them to keep them safe from Voldemort and given them new memories and identities as Wendell and Monica Wilkins, then arranged for them to move to Australia to start new lives far away from the impending danger.
She then told how after the war she'd tracked them down only to realize that the spell had become so deeply embedded there was no way to reverse it without causing irrevocable brain damage. As hard as it had been for her she'd made the decision to leave them in their new lives. Only Harry, Ron, Kingsley and a handful of trusted Australian Ministry officials knew the truth.
He held her close and stroked her hair until she finished her story. "Is that why you became a patron at Janus Thickey and founded the consortium?"
"Yes. I thought if I couldn't help my parents maybe I could at least help someone else."
"I'm so sorry, Hermione. That must have been devastating for you. Why in the world would you ever think that I'd hate you for it?"
"After what happened to your family, I feared you'd think I was terrible for messing with my parents memories like that. For willingly giving up something that I know you wished you still had."
"You did what you had to do in order to save your parents' lives, Hermione. If I'd been in the same position I'd have done the exact same thing."
"Really?" she sniffed.
"Really. So let's not have any more rubbish about me hating you, okay?" He tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "Do you ever get to see them?"
"Not in person. Not since Harry and I found them and realized the truth. However, Kingsley has a cousin that lives not far from them in Melbourne. She serves as a Muggle liaison for the Australian Ministry. She has a camera so a few times a year she goes into the community and manages to get some pictures for me without drawing too much attention to herself."
She summoned a small photo album and handed it to him. He paged through the pictures, noting the strong resemblance between Hermione and her mother. He stopped at a photo of a cozy looking home with a well-kept yard and a large cat lounging in the front window.
He leaned in and squinted. "Is that Crookshanks?"
Hermione nodded. "After my parents left for Australia it soon became apparent that Harry, Ron and I were going to have to go underground for indeterminate period of time. I realized there was no way I could take Crooks with us so Harry got me in contact with a kneazle breeder by the name of Arabella Figg. She was able to use her network of contacts to ensure that a vaguely familiar stray cat arrived in a certain backyard in Melbourne. I understand he's called Marmalade now."
"How do you feel about all of that?"
"Happy. Sad. Angry. Confused. The way I feel about many things in my life these days, unfortunately."
Neville racked his brain for something comforting to say but all he came up with was, "Yeah. I know."
He felt this was entirely inadequate but it seemed to satisfy the witch beside him so he settled for that.