A/N Got back on track with the sixth installment, but won't be able to update for a good two weeks for I am going to France. I hope you enjoy this one though! xxx

Chapter Twenty-Three

St. Mungo's Hospital

Tally woke Amara up rather early on Christmas morning. She was jumping up and down in her pyjamas, looking very excited.

"Everyone got me a present!" She squealed excitedly.

"What'd'you 'spect?" Amara said, still groggy from being woken up.

"I didn't know zey'd all get me one," said Tally, beaming at her large pile of presents.

"Did you get them stuff?" Amara said, sitting up and seeing her own large pile of presents on the end of her bed too.

"Of course," said Tally. "I mean, zey did put up wiz me ze 'ole summer, didn't zey?"

Amara rolled her eyes but grinned at her cousin, who hurried over to her bed and started opening the presents.

"Did you get one?" Tally said, holding up a Weasley jumper. Hers was pale pink and had silver stitching around the edges. Amara had just opened hers - it was a nice purple with her initials knitted on the right hand side of the chest.

"It's a Weasley jumper," said Amara, pulling it on over her top. "Tradition."

Tally was very pleased with the jumper and she put it on immediately too.

The rest of Amara's presents were rather satisfactory. She received a camera from Jesse, Adrien and Fleur, with a note saying it could work at Hogwarts; a necklace with a key on it from Tally; her usual box of Chocoballs from Ron; a selection of things from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes; some new nail varnish from Ginny (it changed colour in different temperatures); some money from her grandparents, which her mother said she'd transfer into galleons if she wanted; some new boots from her parents, because her old ones were getting too old; Tessie and Ethan had pooled their money together and had bought her a selection of Honeydukes treats; Harry had got her two Transfiguration books, Volume One and Two, which looked rather interesting; Hermione had given her their usual charms for their bracelets they each had, this year it was a broomstick charm (Amara had got Hermione a sun, with a yellow gem in the middle); Fred and George had got her a selection of their products, with a note telling her it wasn't out of her five galleons she gave them and Tonks had got her a broom compass.

All in all, Amara had received a lot of presents, and she was very pleased.

"Ron got me perfume," said Tally, holding up the pretty bottle which was decorated with flowers. "It's smells lovely."

She caught Amara with a spray and Amara had to admit, Ron had done a very good job on selecting it.

They decided to go down the hallway and see Ron and Harry, and probably wake them up, because they tended to wake up later than them.

Ron was already awake, so they whacked Harry with pillows she he'd wake up too.

"Thanks for the books," Amara grinned at him. "They look awesome."

"No problem," Harry said, eyeing his own pile of presents. He grabbed one and opened it.

"Zank you for ze bracelet," Tally beamed at Harry. "It's gorgeous - look."

She wriggled her wrist where the bracelet was now residing.

"It's fine," said Harry. "I didn't know what to get you ..."

"Well this is very good," said Tally. "My present is zere," she added, pointing at a neatly wrapped silver package.

"Oh, and Ron," said Tally, turning to the red head. "Zat perfume is amazing! It smells fantastic."

Ron flushed.

"It's fine ... Thanks for the book on the Chudley Cannons ... I didn't know it existed!"

"It hasn't been released," said Tally. "But Papa knows someone and I had to get it."

Ron looked very touched and continued opening his presents.

"Did Hermione get you a homework planner?" Harry asked, having just opened his.

"Yeah," said Ron. "Thanks for the broom compass ... Much better than the planner."

"I didn't get one," said Amara, examining Harry's. It sang out to her annoyingly as she flicked through it 'Do it today, or later you'll pay!' "She obviously thinks I don't need one."

Harry and Ron finished opening their presents - Harry received a painting done by Dobby which they all didn't know what it was, and were just trying to figure it out when Fred and George Apparated next to them.

"Merry Christmas," said George. "Don't go downstairs for a bit."

"Why not?" said Ron.

"Mum's crying again," said Fred heavily. "Percy sent back his Christmas jumper."

"Without a note," added George. "Hasn't asked how Dad is or visited him or anything. . . ."

"We tried to comfort her," said Fred, moving around the bed to look at Harry's portrait too. "Told her Percy's nothing more than a humongous pile of rat droppings —"

"— didn't work," said George, helping himself to a Chocolate Frog. "So Lupin took over. Best let him cheer her up before we go down for breakfast, I reckon."

"What's that supposed to be anyway?" asked Fred, squinting at Dobby's painting. "Looks like a gibbon with two black eyes."

"It's Harry!" said George, pointing at the back of the picture. "Says so on the back!"

"Good likeness," said Fred, grinning and Amara laughed. They both dodged the homework planner that Harry threw at them - it hit the wall and fell to the floor, happily exclaiming "If you've dotted the i's and crossed the t's then you may do whatever you please!"

They could hear other people in the house calling 'Merry Christmas' as they got dressed. After Tally and Amara had, they walked down to Hermione and Ginny's room, where both girls were just getting ready themselves.

"Merry Christmas!" Amara grinned, giving Hermione a hug, then Ginny.

"Thanks for the charm, Hermione," she said and she showed her her charm bracelet. "And the nail varnish Gin."

"Thanks for the Quidditch book," said Ginny, grinning.

Hermione showed her her charm bracelet too. Each of them now had five charms each - Amara had a wand, a star, a locket, an owl and a broomstick whilst Hermione had a book, a robin, a hedgehog, a cat and a sun.

They left the bedroom, Hermione picking up another present, which Amara supposed was for Mrs Weasley or someone, and met Harry, Ron, Fred and George coming.

"Thanks for the book, Harry!" Hermione said happily. "I've been wanting that New Theory of Numerology for ages! And thanks for the new scarf, Ron, it's really nice."

"No problem," said Ron. "Who's that for anyway?" he added, nodding at the neatly wrapped present she was carrying.

"Kreacher," said Hermione brightly.

"It had better not be clothes!" said Ron warningly. "You know what Sirius said, Kreacher knows too much, we can't set him free!"

"It isn't clothes," said Hermione, "although if I had my way I'd certainly give him something to wear other than that filthy old rag. No, it's a patchwork quilt, I thought it would brighten up his bedroom."

"What bedroom?" said Harry, dropping his voice to a whisper as they were passing the portrait of Sirius's mother. Amara too, was intrigued, because she hadn't realised Kreacher had a bedroom.

"Well, Sirius says it's not so much a bedroom, more a kind of — den," said Hermione. "Apparently he sleeps under the boiler in that cupboard off the kitchen."

Mrs Weasley was the only person in the basement when they arrived there. She was standing at the stove and sounded as though she had a bad head cold when she wished them Merry Christmas, and they all averted their eyes awkwardly.

"So, this is Kreacher's bedroom?" said Ron, strolling over to a dingy door in the corner opposite the pantry.

"Yes," said Hermione, now sounding a little nervous. "Er . . . I think we'd better knock . . ."

Ron rapped the door with his knuckles but there was no reply.

"He must be sneaking around upstairs," he said, and without further ado pulled open the door. "Urgh."

Amara, who had popped her head around to see what it was like, retracted herself quickly.

There was an assortment of rags and smelly blankets making a nest for Kreacher to curl up in. There was a few bits of stale and mouldy food that was letting off a smell, and a collection of things stolen from when they were trying to clean the rooms in the summer.

"I think I'll just leave his present here," said Hermione, laying the package neatly in the middle of the depression in the rags and blankets and closing the door quietly. "He'll find it later, that'll be fine. . . ."

"Come to think of it," said Sirius, emerging from the pantry carrying a large turkey as they closed the cupboard door, "has anyone actually seen Kreacher lately?"

"I haven't seen him since the night we came back here," said Harry. "You were ordering him out of the kitchen."

"Yeah . . ." said Sirius, frowning. "You know, I think that's the last time I saw him, too. . . . He must be hiding upstairs somewhere. . . ."

"He couldn't have left, could he?" said Harry. "I mean, when you said 'out,' maybe he thought you meant, get out of the house?"

"No, no, house-elves can't leave unless they're given clothes, they're tied to their family's house," said Sirius.

"They can leave the house if they really want to," Harry contradicted him. "Dobby did, he left the Malfoys' to give me warnings two years ago. He had to punish himself afterward, but he still managed it."

Sirius looked slightly disconcerted for a moment, then said, "I'll look for him later, I expect I'll find him upstairs crying his eyes out over my mother's old bloomers or something. . . . Of course, he might have crawled into the airing cupboard and died. . . . But I mustn't get my hopes up. . . ."

Amara, Fred, George, and Ron laughed; Hermione, however, looked reproachful and looked as though she wanted to reprimand him.

Mrs Weasley cooked a superb Christmas lunch, which they all enjoyed immensely, even though Mrs Weasley still seemed slightly sad about Percy.

Fred and George tried cheering everyone up with their jokes, which did work, and Amara got the full force of them because she had placed herself in between both of them.

Mad-Eye and Lupin joined them, as they were planning to go to St. Mungo's to visit Mr Weasley after their lunch.

Mundungus turned up near the end of it, and told them he's "borrowed" a car for the occasion, as they couldn't get the train as it had stopped on Christmas Day.

It seemed that an Enlargement charm had been placed on the inside of the car, as everyone planning to go, which included Amara, Hermione, Tally, Harry, Mad-Eye, Lupin and the six Weasley's plus Mundungus, could fit easily inside, all fitting rather comfortably.

Mrs Weasley was hesitant in getting inside, but she soon sat the other side of Fred (Amara was on his left).

Amara has never been to St. Mungo's before - neither had Hermione or Tally. The drive was relatively short and soon they got out the car across the road from a large deserted department store - 'Purge and Dowse Ltd' - and let Mundungus drive around the corner to wait for them.

They walked up to the old department store - which said 'closed for refurbishment' - and stood outside the window, which had ugly dummies with wigs and fake eyelashes drooping off them

Amara and Hermione glanced at each other in confusion as Lupin stepped forwards and started whispering to the dummy. Then, he walked straight through the glass.

Amara's mouth fell open as, one by one, the others started entering too. She didn't really want to go through, so Fred grabbed her hand before Mad-Eye threw her through the glass, and pulled her through after him.

When Amara blinked next they were in a reception room - rather quiet, but it still had a few people prancing around. It had been decorated nicely with white trees with magic snow and icicles and golden stars; Christmas baubles hung from the ceiling in red and green and holly was strung around every doorway.

They made their way to the desk, where a blonde witch was sitting. A woman ran past with a satsuma jammed up her nostril.

"Family argument, eh?" smirked the blonde witch behind the desk, looking amused. "You're the third I've seen today . . . Spell Damage, fourth floor . . ."

As the others knew where they were going, they walked straight through, up a flight of stairs into the Dai Llewellyn ward, where they found Mr Weasley just finishing his Christmas dinner and a sheepish expression on his face.

"Everything all right, Arthur?" asked Mrs Weasley, after they had all greeted Mr Weasley and handed over their presents.

"Fine, fine," said Mr. Weasley, a little too heartily. "You — er — haven't seen Healer Smethwyck, have you?"

"No," said Mrs Weasley suspiciously, "why?"

"Nothing, nothing," said Mr. Weasley airily, starting to unwrap his pile of gifts. "Well, everyone had a good day? What did you all get for Christmas? Oh, Harry — this is absolutely wonderful —"

For he had just opened Harry's gift of fuse-wire and screwdrivers.

Mrs Weasley was very suspicious of what her husband was up to - she peered at his bandages when he leant over to shake Harry's hand.

"Arthur," she said, with a snap in her voice like a mousetrap, "you've had your bandages changed. Why have you had your bandages changed a day early, Arthur? They told me they wouldn't need doing until tomorrow."

"What?" said Mr Weasley, looking rather frightened and pulling the bed covers higher up his chest. "No, no — it's nothing — it's — I —"

He seemed to deflate under Mrs Weasley's piercing gaze.

"Well — now don't get upset, Molly, but Augustus Pye had an idea. . . . He's the Trainee Healer, you know, lovely young chap and very interested in . . . um . . . complementary medicine. . . . I mean, some of these old Muggle remedies . . . well, they're called stitches, Molly, and they work very well on — on Muggle wounds —"

Mrs Weasley let out an ominous noise somewhere between a shriek and a snarl. Lupin strolled away from the bed and over to a man who apparently had been bitten by a werewolf, and who had no visitors and was looking rather wistfully at the crowd around Mr Weasley; Bill muttered something about getting himself a cup of tea and Fred and George leapt up to accompany him, grinning.

"Do you mean to tell me," said Mrs Weasley, her voice growing louder with every word and Amara was itching to run away too, "that you have been messing about with Muggle remedies?"

"Not messing about, Molly, dear," said Mr Weasley imploringly. "It was just — just something Pye and I thought we'd try — only, most unfortunately — well, with these particular kinds of wounds — it doesn't seem to work as well as we'd hoped —"

"Meaning?"

"Well . . . well, I don't know whether you know what — what stitches are?"

"It sounds as though you've been trying to sew your skin back together," said Mrs. Weasley with a snort of mirthless laughter, "but even you, Arthur, wouldn't be that stupid —"

"I fancy a cup of tea too," said Harry, jumping to his feet.

Amara, Hermione, Ron, Tally and Ginny almost sprinted to the door with him. As it swung closed behind them, they heard Mrs Weasley shriek, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THAT'S THE GENERAL IDEA?"

"Typical Dad," said Ginny, shaking her head as they set off up the corridor. "Stitches . . . I ask you . . ."

"Well, you know, they do work well on non-magical wounds," said Hermione fairly. "I suppose something in that snake's venom dissolves them or something. . . . I wonder where the tearoom is?"

"Fifth floor," said Harry.

They walked along the corridor through a set of double doors and found a rickety staircase lined with more portraits of brutal-looking Healers. As they climbed it, the various Healers called out to them, diagnosing odd complaints and suggesting horrible remedies. Ron was seriously affronted when a medieval wizard called out that he clearly had a bad case of spattergroit.

"And what's that supposed to be?" he asked angrily, as the Healer pursued him through six more portraits, shoving the occupants out of the way.

" 'Tis a most grievous affliction of the skin, young master, that will leave you pockmarked and more gruesome even than you are now —" "Watch who you're calling gruesome!" said Ron, his ears turning red as they all tried not to giggle at him.

"The only remedy is to take the liver of a toad, bind it tight about your throat, stand naked by the full moon in a barrel of eels' eyes —" Tally giggled harder than ever.

"I have not got spattergroit!"

"But the unsightly blemishes upon your visage, young master —" "They're freckles!" said Ron furiously. "Now get back in your own picture and leave me alone!"

He rounded on the others, who were all trying to stop giggling.

"What floor's this?"

"I think it's the fifth," said Hermione.

"Nah, it's the fourth," said Harry, "one more —"

But as he stepped onto the landing he came to an abrupt halt, staring at the small window set into the double doors that marked the start of a corridor signposted spell damage. Amara peered around him to see why he'd stopped and saw a man peering out at them with his nose pressed against the glass. He had very blue eyes, blonde hair and amazingly straight teeth.

"Blimey!" said Ron, also staring at the man.

"Oh my goodness," said Hermione suddenly, sounding breathless. "Professor Lockhart!"

Professor Lockhart, their old Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher pushed the doors open and greeted them cheerily.

"Well, hello there!" he said. "I expect you'd like my autograph, would you?"

"Hasn't changed much, has he?" Amara heard Harry mutter to Ginny.

"Er — how are you, Professor?" said Ron, sounding slightly guilty.

It was Ron's wand that had caused Lockhart's memories to vanish in the Chamber of Secrets. But considering he was trying to wipe Amara, Harry and Ron's memories first, she didn't really feel as sorry for him.

"I'm very well indeed, thank you!" said Lockhart exuberantly, pulling a rather battered peacock-feather quill from his pocket. "Now, how many autographs would you like? I can do joined-up writing now, you know!"

"Er — we don't want any at the moment, thanks," said Ron, raising his eyebrows at Harry, who asked, "Professor, should you be wandering around the corridors? Shouldn't you be in a ward?"

The smile faded slowly from Lockhart's face. For a few moments he gazed intently at Harry, then he said, "Haven't we met?"

"Er . . . yeah, we have," said Harry. "You used to teach us at Hogwarts, remember?"

"Teach?" repeated Lockhart, looking faintly unsettled. "Me? Did I?"

And then the smile reappeared upon his face so suddenly it was rather alarming. Tally looked very shocked, as she was the nobly one not having met him before. "Taught you everything you know, I expect, did I? Well, how about those autographs, then? Shall we say a round dozen, you can give them to all your little friends then and nobody will be left out!"

But just then a head poked out of a door at the far end of the corridor and a voice said, "Gilderoy, you naughty boy, where have you wandered off to?"

A motherly looking Healer wearing a tinsel wreath in her hair came bustling up the corridor, smiling warmly at the six of them.

"Oh Gilderoy, you've got visitors! How lovely, and on Christmas Day too! Do you know, he never gets visitors, poor lamb, and I can't think why, he's such a sweetie, aren't you?"

"We're doing autographs!" Gilderoy told the Healer with another glittering smile. "They want loads of them, won't take no for an answer! I just hope we've got enough photographs!"

"Listen to him," said the Healer, taking Lockhart's arm and beaming fondly at him as though he were a precocious two-year-old. "He was rather well known a few years ago; we very much hope that this liking for giving autographs is a sign that his memory might be coming back a little bit. Will you step this way? He's in a closed ward, you know, he must have slipped out while I was bringing in the Christmas presents, the door's usually kept locked . . . not that he's dangerous! But," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "bit of a danger to himself, bless him. . . . Doesn't know who he is, you see, wanders off and can't remember how to get back. . . . It is nice of you to have come to see him —"

"Er," said Ron, gesturing uselessly at the floor above, "actually, we were just — er —"

But the Healer was smiling expectantly at them, and Ron's feeble mutter of "going to have a cup of tea" trailed away into nothingness. They looked at one another rather hopelessly and then followed Lockhart and his Healer along the corridor.

"Let's not stay long," Ron said quietly.

The Healer pointed her wand at the door of the Janus Thickey ward and muttered "Alohomora."

The door opened and they followed the Healer into the ward and over to where she placed Gilderoy Lockhart in an armchair by his bed.

"This is our long-term resident ward," she informed Amara, Harry, Ron, Tally, Hermione, and Ginny in a low voice. "For permanent spell damage, you know. Of course, with intensive remedial potions and charms and a bit of luck, we can produce some improvement. . . . Gilderoy does seem to be getting back some sense of himself, and we've seen a real improvement in Mr Bode, he seems to be regaining the power of speech very well, though he isn't speaking any language we recognize yet. . . . Well, I must finish giving out the Christmas presents, I'll leave you all to chat. . . ."

Around Lockhart's bed were loads of pictures of himself beaming down at them toothily. Some of them had been signed as well, in writing which Tessie used when she was younger.

Lockhart was now pulling lots of photographs towards him, took his quill and started signing them all as though his life depended on it.

"You can put them in envelopes," he said to Ginny, throwing the signed pictures into her lap one by one as he finished them. "I am not forgotten, you know, no, I still receive a very great deal of fan mail. . . . Gladys Gudgeon writes weekly. . . . I just wish I knew why. . . ." He paused, looking faintly puzzled, then beamed again and returned to his signing with renewed vigour. "I suspect it is simply my good looks. . . ."

Amara and Ginny grinned at each other. Gilderoy Lockhart hadn't changed much since the nearly three year period he'd been here.

There weren't many other people in the ward with Lockhart. There was a sad looking wizard opposite them, mumbling something in a different language, a woman with her head covered in fur (it reminded Amara of when Hermione had something similar) and at the end were some curtains obscuring the occupants from view.

"Here you are, Agnes," Amara watched the Healer say brightly to the furry-faced woman, handing her a small pile of Christmas presents. "See, not forgotten, are you? And your son's sent an owl to say he's visiting tonight, so that's nice, isn't it?"

Agnes gave several loud barks.

"And look, Broderick, you've been sent a pot plant and a lovely calendar with a different fancy hippogriff for each month, they'll brighten things up, won't they?" said the Healer, bustling along to the mumbling man, setting a rather ugly plant with long, swaying tentacles on the bedside cabinet and fixing the calendar to the wall with her wand. "And — oh, Mrs Longbottom, are you leaving already?"

Amara's brain had a little jolt of recognition at the surname. She looked at Ron, surprised, and the both of them, as well as Harry and the others (Tally doing it in a confused manner) looked around to see if it was the people they thought. A formidable looking witch with grey hair and a familiar looking hat (which had a stuffed culture on top) was just coming out behind the curtains. Behind her, looking very sad and depressed, even though it was Christmas, was Neville.

"Neville!" Ron said, surprised. Amara was just as surprised herself, and she wondered who he had been visiting.

Neville, at Ron's exclamation, jumped and cowered as though a bullet had narrowly missed him.

"It's us, Neville!" said Ron brightly, getting to his feet. "Have you seen? Lockhart's here! Who've you been visiting?"

"Friends of yours, Neville, dear?" said Neville's grandmother graciously, bearing down upon them all.

Neville turned slightly purple and be didn't look at anyone.

"Ah, yes," said his grandmother, looking closely at Harry and sticking out a shrivelled, clawlike hand for him to shake. "Yes, yes, I know who you are, of course. Neville speaks most highly of you."

"Er — thanks," said Harry, shaking hands. Neville did not look at Harry, but stared at his own feet, the colour deepening in his face all the while.

"And you two are clearly Weasleys," Mrs Longbottom continued, proffering her hand regally to Ron and Ginny in turn. "Yes, I know your parents — not well, of course — but fine people, fine people . . . and this must be Amara Matthews?"

Amara was very surprised that she knew her name, but shook her hand anyway.

"Mmm... Yes Neville likes you very much ... and you must be Hermione Granger?"

Hermione looked rather startled too that Mrs Longbottom knew her name, but shook hands all the same.

"Yes, Neville's told me all about you. Helped him out of a few sticky spots, haven't you? And I'm sorry to say I don't know who you are," she said to Tally apologetically.

"I'm Amara's cousin," said Tally, smiling. "Tallulah Reynolds."

"Pleasure," said Mrs Longbottom. "I'm sure Neville likes you too. He's a good boy," she said, casting a sternly appraising look down her rather bony nose at Neville, "but he hasn't got his father's talent, I'm afraid to say. . . ." And she jerked her head in the direction of the two beds at the end of the ward, so that the stuffed vulture on her hat trembled alarmingly.

"What?" said Ron, looking amazed and Amara did too. "Is that your dad down the end, Neville?"

"What's this?" said Mrs. Longbottom sharply. "Haven't you told your friends about your parents, Neville?"

Neville took a deep breath, looked up at the ceiling, and shook his head. Amara was getting rather confused - what had happened to his parents?

"Well, it's nothing to be ashamed of!" said Mrs Longbottom angrily. "You should be proud, Neville, proud! They didn't give their health and their sanity so their only son would be ashamed of them, you know!"

"I'm not ashamed," said Neville very faintly, still looking anywhere but at the six of them. Ron was now standing on tiptoe to look over at the inhabitants of the two beds, so Amara pulled him away so he didn't look rude.

"Well, you've got a funny way of showing it!" said Mrs Longbottom. "My son and his wife," she said, turning haughtily to Amara, Tally, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, "were tortured into insanity by You- Know-Who's followers."

Hermione and Ginny both clapped their hands over their mouths. Amara swayed and gasped, Tally and Ron looked horrified at the thought.

"They were Aurors, you know, and very well respected within the Wizarding community," Mrs Longbottom went on. "Highly gifted, the pair of them. I — yes, Alice dear, what is it?"

Neville's mother had come edging down the ward in her nightdress. Her face was thin and worn, her eyes seemed overlarge, and her hair, which was white, was wispy and dead-looking. She didn't seem to be able to speak either, and Amara was feeling so sorry for the Longbottoms by now. Why hadn't she even asked about why Neville lived with his grandmother? His mother started making timid motions towards Neville, holding something in her hand.

"Again?" said Mrs Longbottom, sounding slightly weary. "Very well, Alice dear, very well — Neville, take it, whatever it is. . . ."

But Neville had already stretched out his hand, into which his mother dropped an empty Droobles Blowing Gum wrapper.

"Very nice, dear," said Neville's grandmother in a falsely cheery voice, patting his mother on the shoulder. But Neville said quietly, "Thanks Mum."

His mother tottered away, back up the ward, humming to herself. Neville looked around at the others, his expression defiant, as though daring them to laugh. Amara was very close to crying and didn't think she could laugh even if she tried.

"Well, we'd better get back," sighed Mrs Longbottom, drawing on long green gloves which matched her dress. "Very nice to have met you all. Neville, put that wrapper in the bin, she must have given you enough of them to paper your bedroom by now. . . ."

They left, and Amara's Christmas spirits seemed to leave with them.

The door closed behind them.

"I never knew," said Hermione, who looked tearful too.

"Me neither," sniffed Amara. Tally nodded, unable to speak.

"Nor did I," said Ron rather hoarsely.

"Nor me," whispered Ginny.

They all looked at Harry, who hadn't say anything.

"I did," he said glumly. "Dumbledore told me but I promised I wouldn't mention it . . . that's what Bellatrix Lestrange got sent to Azkaban for, using the Cruciatus Curse on Neville's parents until they lost their minds."

"Bellatrix Lestrange did that?" whispered Hermione, horrified. "That woman Kreacher's got a photo of in his den?"

There was a long silence, broken by Lockhart's angry voice. "Look, I didn't learn joined-up writing for nothing, you know!"

But Amara didn't really care anymore; she was too preoccupied with the fact that Neville had had to come to St. Mungo's to visit his parents every year. They probably didn't know his birthday, nor could they remember to write to him during term time.