The Houses Competition
House: Gryffindor
Class: Charms
Prompt: [Setting] St Mungo's
Drabble
Word Count 990
AN at end
Diary of a Breakaway
It's like coming out of a fog. For so long, there is nothing, save for a weak beam of sunlight to light the way. The boy with the sad eyes is my sunbeam. Maybe he just happens to be there when the potions meant to keep us docile begin to wear off. It doesn't really matter; he always leaves with the woman in the vulture hat before I can break free of the fog and thank him.
Time passes differently here. Were it not for seeing the boy age, time would be meaningless. I eventually discover that Frank and I are in St Mungo's although the reason escapes me. Surely if the aim was to help us defeat the fog, they would not force us to drink potions that dim our minds? It's always the same; just as I'm breaking free, I hear a voice say, "drink… don't be difficult," followed by the fog.
I miss my husband. The man on the bed next to mine bears only a passing resemblance to the one I knew. Occasionally, he breaks out of the fog enough to fight. 'Tis a glorious thing to see. His lack of a wand is only a minor inconvenience while his will to live offers a strength not found in muscle. Alas, they always overpower him, his arms bound 'for his own good'. Before they can force him to drink another dose, he always turns my way. That's when I am truly seen.
A nurse has started to give me Drooble's Best Blowing Gum—Kids Edition. I think she hopes it'll help me to be able to eat heartier foods. I don't know about that, but it seems to lessen the strength of the fog. With it, I'm able to listen and understand more of the conversations held around me. I discover that my sunbeam is actually my Neville. The woman in the vulture hat is Augusta, Frank's mom. Seeing how she talks to my son fills me with an anger that has no outlet. She does not recognize my precious boy as anything more than a substitute for Frank and thinks him to be a poor one at that. How I wish I could wrap my son in a loving embrace! Alas, my limbs are not capable of such control. The best I can give him is an empty wrapper. I'm in here, Nev. I see you; I'm trying to fight my way back to you.
The last time I see my Neville, he has a broken nose and shivers in a way that is terribly familiar. It's horrible to see him suffer. Before he leaves, my Neville gives me a desperate hug before anyone can stop him. It's the best and worst moment of my life. Feeling his strong arms trembling around me while I am unable to reciprocate is a sweet torture that makes me feel emptier than before. For once, I welcome the respite of the fog.
The nurse who gave me the gum is no longer here, but those who are have become lax in their efforts to drug us. By the time they remember, both Frank and I are almost completely free of the fog, something we don't bother to share. Each time they enter—to provide food or a potion—we learn a little more.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned; Muggleborn Healers have gone underground. Those who have remained fit very specific parameters; the only reason my husband and I are alive is because we're presumed insane and can be used against our son.
Eventually, they cease dosing us at all. In between meals—the only time we are truly alone—we plan and exercise to build up strength. If they notice the increase in bruises from the times when we've fallen, they don't care. Stealing a wand was risky but necessary if we wanted them to remain unaware of the changes in our physique. It's strange being able to feel strong while my body continues to give the impression of a twig, but it's the only way. Finally, we're ready.
Being more proficient in charms, I place the glamour that will make others believe, at first glance, that we are Healers Penelope Parkinson and Bastian Zabini. As long as we can avoid running into them, we have a shot at getting out of here.
An alarm sounds when we leave our room. Was there a ward we were unaware of? No, the shrill sound is a warning of something else. All and sundry rush left and right, getting ready for… something. Word has gotten out about a battle happening at Hogwarts. Those with the Mark rush to the battlefield. Those without or who had made an attempt to stay neutral remain at the hospital, anticipating large numbers of injured and dying. My heart aches. Is my son in that battle? Is he safe elsewhere? The pain of knowing that, despite my efforts to get stronger, I would be a liability on the field of battle is only eclipsed by a mother's desire to protect her son.
Without me noticing, Frank has led me to the Floo system. It's time to go home. After we arrive, Frank and I strip off our glamours. We look almost healthy—certainly better than we were a lifetime ago. It's then that we notice the ruins of Longbottom Manor. It resembles a battleground. Frank looks in the attic for another serviceable wand, and together, we begin the slow clean-up of his ancestral home. We want Neville to have a beautiful home when he returns.
Days pass without word or human interaction. Thankfully, the cupboards were still full. I spend my time in what appears to be Neville's room. A young woman comes in one day, apparently with the intention of fixing the manor up. We introduce ourselves, and she agrees to bring Neville and Augusta as soon as possible. The door opens; I finally return my son's hug.
AN: AU in which Neville's parents aren't driven permanently insane. Written to mimic the disjointed feeling of coming off medication.