A/N/:
I do not own Harry Potter or any of its affiliates, nor do I profit from this body of work, because I did not write Harry Potter. I am simply a fan who likes to imagine what if I was the author, JK Rowling, if I was, it might have looked a lot like this….
Chapter Three: Peeking Through the Veil of Time
With a loud bang, Neville found himself in seemingly the same exact place where he left. Except, as he looked about, he realized that was not quite true. The Danali Cacti were all gone… 'Hang on' Neville realized. The more he looked, the more he saw was different. He was still in the same spot but he must have moved through time. The climbing Ivy that had almost swallowed the green house was no longer there and the paint on the door looked fresh and new.
Sticking his hands in his pocket, he fingered the letter he was supposed to deliver. 'Should I trust the author?' he wondered. 'Somehow I have always had the instinct to trust this … Verthandi .' So Neville slowly picked his way towards St. Mungo's Hospital to deliver the letter to the Healer… "Maybe," he thought aloud I can stop by Mom and Pop's and visit.", but then he realized that he couldn't 'No of course not, but then again, they would not recognize him…. when had they ever recognized him.' He argued with himself as he climbed the steps that lead to a dirty, red-bricked clothing department store named Purge and Dowse, Ltd.
There was a sign, the same sign he sadly had seen for much of his life, nearly every weekend in fact. It read "Closed for Refurbishment". Neville wondered how the Muggles never got curious about that fact. Here it was, God knows how many years into the past, and that same sign was on the door. Neville mumbled to himself under his breath, "How unobservant the Muggles must be."
In the front window, of this dilapidated store was a dummy dressed in outdated styles, even for this period of time, serving as the gatekeeper. Neville spoke to the dummy, and then walked straight through the window.
Inside St. Mungo's Hospital looked very different from its outside exterior. Pristine and white and very clean the reception area was filled with rickety wooden chairs and outdated issues of Witch Weekly, visitors were being greeted by the Welcome Witch, though Neville knew from many visits that her demeanor, at least on busy days, was generally less than welcoming. This reception area doubled as a visitors' entrance and an emergency room waiting area, it was filled with wizards facing strange ailments, such as hands sprouting out of their chests or steam pouring from their mouths, and Healers clad in uniforms of lime green robes hurried busily through the room.
Neville took a deep breath and massaged his temples to soothe the headache that always seemed to be brought on simply by the sight of the place.
It had been to these torturous rooms that he had been banished on the worst days when Alice and Frank's Nervous Spells were at their worst, when their screams had turned him grey and ashen. He absolutely hated the place. But it was to here Verthandi had led him, and while he was here he intended to visit his parents on the Fourth Floor.
When he had been here, the Welcoming Witch had been elderly, but although it was obvious this was the same woman, she was at least 22 years younger. 'Quite a looker actually' he thought.
Neville saw a young chubby round faced boy and a chubby belly trying his best to hide in the corner, looking perfectly miserable. He had his wand out and was lazily drawing whole villages in mid-air, 'Poor little bloke, probably board out of his mind, maybe he has a Gram of his own visiting his parents too.' Neville conjectured.
Presently he heard the Welcome Witch, speaking in that nasally voice she always used when she was irritated about having to act as the unofficial babysitter. "Where's your mother young man? For goodness sake, I am not being paid enough galleons to be a mother to all you little tikes…. Johnny stop using your wand you are not supposed to use it except at Hogwarts. Goodness knows why did they lift that restriction, here. This is a healing facility!..." she said.
'Nope ', Neville thought, 'still the same woman.' Over the years the two had developed a love hate relationship. As he passed by the reception area Neville imagined a cute little bunny with big beautiful eyes and floppy ears that would bound all around the waiting room, which only the child could see. He glanced over his shoulder and saw the dejected boy smile and giggle under his breath.
With a smile on Neville's face, he bounded up the stairs to the fourth floor, taking three at a time. 'Funny how as small of a thing as making that little boy smile makes what I am about to do at least a little easier.' He thought. 'All of the very worst days of my life had always began and ended with visiting my folks. I know that sounds bad but it is true.'
First of all, Neville never knew a time when they seemed to even recognize who he was. Early on he was that nice Healers young boy. Then as he began to grow, he was the orderly who came every Saturday. Then as an adult he became the new Healer, here to administer some potion. Those were the good days… On bad days they merely screamed and threw things at him. They often called him a disguised Death Eater and demanded that he give them back their son and quit using their son's hair in his Polyjuice potion.
There were days when all Neville could do was flee from their room, clutching his ears hoping to drown out their screams of pain, when all the pain potions in the world could not relieve the pain of the phantom Cruciatus Curse that the Phantom Bellatix was administering upon them. Then again sometimes… they just sat there staring as if he was not there at all. Those were the hardest days… because on those days he feared they were not aware of his existence at all.
As Neville walked into the room he was relieved to find his parents were asleep. There they were in the same room two beds sleeping looking younger than he had ever seen them. As he walked in he saw his mother and his breath caught. She had been a rare beauty in her day and the horror of what Bellatrix had done sank in. Looking at his father he saw him strong and vibrant. Bellatrix had stolen so much from them all. An old Familiar pain… a nagging anger, rose up in him again, and also a sense of helplessness. It was a helplessness born from the knowledge that even a Midra could not simply wish that things were different and make it so.
Looking at the plant growing in between the heads of his parent's bed was a small plant about 2 feet high covered with pristine white, small, almost wild rose-like flowers. This plant, in the time period he came from, nearly engulfed the space between them… Neville was brought back some 12 years ago when he had been only 10…
Tiny chubby hands reach for the pristine white flower. "Pretty! Can I have one, to bring home to Gram, Healer Sanatore" the young chubby boys says about to pick the flower. Suddenly a red- faced, freckled, ginger- haired man runs to intercept. "No, Sir! We do not pick stuff off of plants willy, nilly, Neville Longbottom. It has taken this plant a whole month of hard work to produce this flower!" the Healer chastises the young Neville, "and we have a real need of this flower. This is the only flower in existence that is known to release a scent that when inhaled can banish a wizard's phantom pain induced by long sustained trauma incurred by the overuse of the Cruciatus Curse. We are still working on the sustained paralysis of the leg extremity's that can cause the patient to limp and require the use of a cane. But nothing but this plant will help with the phantom pain. Had you picked this plant your parents would have been in pain within the hour!" The Healer in lime green robes says while catching the chubby hand mid-stride.
"A plant can do all that Healer Sanatore?' the young Neville asks. " Yes indeed! And so much more! Look around you, do you see all we do to help those with magical maladies and injuries. We would be helpless without the magical healing properties of plants. They have from the dawn of time offered themselves as a sacrifice to help Wizards and Muggles alike. In most cases, save charms and magical creatures (which plants are actually a part of), nothing can be done in our world, without the help of a plant." the kindly old man said in an on-the-side kind of fashion, while he exercised Neville's parents' legs.
This was all very common to Neville. The Healer had done the same exercises on his parents at 10:00 AM every Saturday he came to visit. Gram had stayed with him long enough to know that it was going to be another day when Neville was not even there and had exited to the reception area, supposing that the boy would want to stay alone with them when at least they were peaceful.
"Healer Sanatore, can I have seed?" the young Neville asked.
The Healer stopped and looked the young Neville in the eye. "I am sure I could find some, if you wish, but why, may I ask?" the healer asked not making the connection until the boy spoke at last.
The young Neville looked down in deep thought. "Well, I just thought, I have a lot to learn if I am ever to find a cure from Ma and Pa, I can't wait to get to Hogwarts to start to learn, I have to start right now!" The young troubled face said pensively.
"Neville", the Healer began, "when you look like that, you just about make me believe that you will find a cure,just about."
Neville was brought back to the present… or was that was really the past for the scene he was remembering. Time got crazy when you messed with it. Wasn't that what Hermione had said that McGonagall had told her in third year.
Neville looked at his reflection and out into the deepest darkest night and watched as the rain drops hit the fourth floor window and slid down the pane one at a time, looking like tears falling down his reflection's face. This had not been the first time a window had mimicked the innards of his soul. The leather chair squeaked as he slid back into it again.
Neville continued with his earlier train of thought, 'Healer Sanatore had given me a plant that day, and I had gone home to learn all I could about growing that plant. I had planted it in soil and had cared for it like it was a child, tending to it's ever need and over the summer I watched if grow. It had grown without magic and it had grown well. Even my family had to admit that I had a knack for making things grow.
While other had to use magic or struggled along only to have it die… it had seemed all I had to do was sing and coo and feed and water it and the plant would grow. Over the first few years I felt a kind of affinity with plants as if they were my only friends. Not far from accurate for the young man I was had no friends until Hogwarts. That was the year I began to have a passion for plants. I believed I did not have a magical bone in my body… but even a squib and grow a plant and I took pride in knowing I was at least good at something.'
Neville was snapped back into the here and now by the sound of a slight whisper…"Hello", a female voice called from his mother's bed.
Neville answered almost by habit what he always said when his Mom realized someone was in the room. He did not expect her to react, one way or the other, actually. At this point in time she was far too out of touch to comprehend anything. After looking at the calendar on the wall of the room, he realized that he might be in the time when he was maybe two years old. Gram would not have brought him here yet.
"It's your boy Neville, Mom, I am here, and it's OK. Now please rest, you need your sleep." He comforted.
"Neville?" the sound of her voice alarmed him. He jumped from his chair, "Neville, is that you?" his mother spoke though strained lips, her voice as raspy as dried as parchment, rubbing as you rolled a scroll.
Instantly Neville, without thinking, was at her side clasping her hand. "I'm here mother." He said without considering the consequences. Love propelled him, love and shock, for not once had his mother ever addressed him as Neville in all his memory.
"What? How can this be? I am sure; we just celebrated your first Christmas" his mother said confusedly, "How you are so big?"
"It is true, Mother, that in your time, I am 2 years old, but I am from your future." Neville explained.
"Oh Neville, you must be careful, you must not meddle with time… Wizards who mess with time come to no good ends." She chided motherly.
A deep contentedness filled Neville's being. 'This is what I have been longing for all these years. This is what I desperately needed; he needed to be acknowledged, to be mothered by my own mother. How strange here in this time, in this place, I have her all to myself. I have her without that Lestange woman's interference.'"I love you Mother" he said reflexively.
"And I love you! Alice Longbotton said to her son, who heard this from his mother for the first time in his memory. "Frank! Frank! Wake up our son has come for a visit!" She cried. As Neville watched with unbelieving eyes, his father turned his head ever so slowly in Neville's direction.
"My boy, you have grown up into a fine young man! What is it you do my son?" his father asked.
"I am a herbologist, father." Neville said; too shocked to process, what was occurring right here in this moment of time. Secretly, he drank in each moment like a parched man at an oasis.
"That is a fine occupation my son, one you should be proud of. " Frank began, "We can't all be Arours now can we? His father laughed a deep throaty laugh, and Neville realized that he had never heard his father laugh until now.
"Guess not. " Neville quipped back. ", and I would venture to guess not everyone can sing and make a plant grow."
"OK Neville," his father chuckled one more time, before his tone turned suddenly serious, "Why are you here as my full-grown man, son? What was so important that you had to come and visit in the night and use a time turner to see us?"
Neville sat on his mother's bed allowing himself to touch her hand and absently stroke the warmth there as he had so many times when she was less lucid. "Dad, honestly I do not know. I never actually planned on coming here until the last moment. I was coming to drop off a letter that Verthrandi asked me to put in a healer's inbox…"
He was interrupted by the sound of his mother's frantic voice, "Verthrandi sent you here? Neville where am I?" she startlingly grabbed his hand as if suddenly broken from her paralysis.
"From the date Mother I would say you have been here about 1 year... Why?" Neville replied.
"Neville, the Potter boy… where is he? You must take me to Him now!" she ended the last statement like a desperate command, "I have to go to him now, I have a promise to keep!
"What promise Mom, in my Time Harry Potter kills Voldermort and Bella…." He cut the last word short realizing his mistake only when it was too late.
The screams started again, in unison. The very mention of her name drew out their inner demons and the Phantom pain returned with gusto.
Gone were those parents he had waited so long to meet, gone was the soothing joyful peace that came when he woke to find his parents here in this place...in this now… sane and lucid. They were replaced by the screaming strangers who had haunted his dreams, and wracked him with such guilt that he had felt like this all those years. Replaced by the hollow emptiness of pain and grief that had been his bosom chum for so long. And now as he had as a child all he wanted was to flee away. To get away from here and never look back; because somehow having them here, even for such a short time, seemed worse than never having them here at all.
Running from the room, Neville just barely made it past the entrance and behind some curtains in the hall when a healer in Lime green robes entered his parent's room.
"Lumos", he incanted, "What seems to be the problem Alice, and Frank, I see it seems you are having a little relapse… ok… deep breath… there the scent will ease the pain. I am glad this is finally working. OK, what is wrong?" He asked.
"Our boy… he was here…", Neville's mother began, " He is big and tall and strong and powerful."
"Dear, dear, Alice; your son is at Longbottom Manor I assure you." Young Healer Sanatore said in a condescending tone. "But then again how would you know? After all you have not seen him in so long, how would you recognize him." The Healer continued to prattle on to himself.
Suddenly Neville felt so tired, as if, if he did not move and move this very minute, he would never make it to Healer Pomfrey's office. He burst from the curtain and sprinted for Healer Promfrey's office. Bursting through the door, he laid the letter in his inbox.
From the moment the envelope touched the basket Neville began to feel nauseous. As he bent over the desk he noticed what could only be described as his hands becoming more translucent. By the time he bent over clutching his stomach he could see through his feet to the white linoleum on the floor.
It was then he guessed what had just happened. A time loop had closed and he (the person he knew himself to be was dying so another version of himself could exist) Just before he disappeared all together, a stray thought entered his head, 'What if all my parents' confusion and fuss had occurred because I was there tonight…' He was silent for a few more seconds before he said aloud. "No way in the world that I would trade tonight… not for all the moments in a thousand timelines… never"
Then like a wink of an eye, the Neville we all know and love winked out of existence.
A/N:
SO MANY QUESTIONS!
SO FEW ANSWERS!
ALL WILL BE REVEALED!
While you read, think on these questions.
1. Where in time is Neville going to now?
2. Did Neville's presence in his parent's room drive them crazy?
3. Who is Healer Promfrey? Is he any relation to our Madame Promprey?
4. Why did the Sang-Magia Deligati Vow not kill Neville's when she could not fulfill it ?
Answer these questions in the comments and we will try our best to respond.
Watch as with us as we travel even further into Neville's past and see what the two unborn children's lives were like before the Harry Potter story as written by J.K. Rowling's story begins…
