This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations. This work also includes Pokemon, which belong to the Pokemon Company, and I again claim no ownership of these characters.
I thank both Rowling and the Pokemon Company for the universes they have created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.
Harry quickly regretted giving Ron the newspaper as the picture clearly had a profound effect on him. He shrank back into his shell, becoming quiet again and refusing to leave his room. Harry couldn't help but blame himself for what had happened to him.
"It's not your fault," Hermione told him firmly. "You didn't attack Mr Weasley. The reason Ron's like this has nothing to do with you."
"I should have listened to Remus," said Harry, ignoring her. "I shouldn't have shown him that picture. I'm his friend, I'm supposed to be helping him but instead I just made things worse."
And no matter how many times Hermione tried to convince him otherwise he knew it to be true. It was worse that it was Ron, too. Ron had always been on his side on everything since they had first met on the Hogwarts Express. It was Ron who, even when Harry was wrong and about to do something stupid, backed him to the hilt, and it was Ron that was always there to make him feel better when things didn't work out. Why couldn't he do that for him?
Fortunately he wasn't the only one who had Ron's, and also Ginny's, Fred's and George's, best interests at heart. Sirius and Remus were an almost constant presence over the next couple of days, trying to coax them back into some form of normality, and Nymphadora Tonks also made an appearance at the Legion Headquarters.
But nothing any of them said or did had quite the effect as when Mrs Weasley, on the fourth day, returned to Grimmauld Place.
"He's doing well," she assured them, absently stroking Ginny's hair as she held her close. Upon seeing their mother each of the four Weasley children had engulfed her in a hug. "Bill and Percy are with him at the moment. He's missing you all dearly."
And so the plan was made to visit St Mungo's the very next day which, as it happened, was Christmas Eve. That morning they were visited by Moody and Tonks and with them and Remus, Mrs Weasley having returned to the hospital the night before, they set out into the snowy streets of London.
"We'll be taking the underground," Remus announced. "It's just a few stops and then a short walk once we get out."
Being in the underground was a blessed relief, the warm air highly appreciated after being frozen up above ground, but it quickly turned into a nightmare. Due to the time of year the tube was packed with last minute Christmas shoppers, making the already busy London Underground absolutely heaving. As they got hemmed in on all sides trying to get on their train Moody moved behind Harry, a gnarled hand resting on his shoulder, both himself and Murk alert and watchful.
"Don't like this," he grumbled. "Should of taken Weasley's van."
"It's still at the Ministry, Mad-Eye," Remus reminded him. Supposedly Mr Weasley had left the Ford Anglia back up at the Burrow while staying at headquarters.
The journey by tube was mercifully short, only three stops, and Harry and the rest of the group breathed in gratefully at the crisp cold fresh air above ground as they resurfaced. Indeed Remus and Tonks looked glad to get out too. Moody showed no emotion.
"This way," he instructed, still directing Harry by the shoulder even now that the crowds had dispersed. He hadn't let go for even a moment since they'd entered the Underground. "Just a few more minutes."
St Mungo's was easily recognisable the moment it came into view. It was enormous, and well it should be, as far as Harry knew it was the only hospital in Britain designed specifically to deal with Pokémon related injuries. And as a result it was much more noisy than a normal hospital.
"Out the way, out the way," Moody growled at some of the people standing in the waiting room. They hurried to obey him, Moody's face simply terrifying to the unsuspecting passerby, but the Pokémon, many of them of unusual shape and size, found that task a whole lot more difficult. An Ekans and two Rattata ran under their feet and Harry almost tripped, Moody's hand steadying him before he could.
They reached the reception desk in good time, the receptionist looking quite startled by the large and diverse group of people approaching, and Moody finally let go of Harry's shoulder to stomp forward.
"We're here to visit someone," Moody said without preamble. The receptionist took a moment to respond.
"Name?" He asked, a clipboard set in front of him expectantly.
"Arthur Weasley," Moody growled. The receptionist scanned the clipboard.
"Arthur Weasley, here he is. First floor, second door on the right. That's the Dai Llewellyn Ward: Pokémon Induced Injuries."
"Appropriate name," Fred muttered from behind Harry.
"Thank you," said Remus gratefully. Moody hadn't bothered. Instead he'd stumped away to the double doors beside the reception desk and looked back at them expectantly.
"Come on, then," he growled. "We'll take the stairs. Don't trust elevators."
"Elevators?" Asked Tonks. "Okay, I'll add it to the list. Things you don't trust as of today; teapots, Cornelius Fudge, elevators and… eh, me." Moody glared at her.
"And don't you forget it," he warned, stomping through the doors and out of sight.
"You would never let me," Tonks replied to his back as she followed him, leaving Remus to round up the rest of the group.
The first floor was thankfully a lot quieter than the reception, though no more comfortable. The St Mungo's staff had obviously tried to make the building more welcoming, with a number of pictures, landscapes and portraits, hung along the walls, but there was just something about a hospital that would never sit right. It always felt like a place you just didn't want to be.
The Dai Llewellyn ward, or 'Dangerous' Dai Llewellyn ward as the plaque on the door indicated, was not far at all from the staircase. It was a plain door, the plaque the only thing marking it, indicating the name, head and trainee healer assigned, and the designation as the serious bites ward.
Fortunately Harry felt he was the only one to notice that as Mrs Weasley, who had been sitting in a seat beside the door, quickly stood up.
"Oh good, you're all here," she said in relief. She looked slightly more rested than she had the last time Harry had seen her, which was a good indicator for the wellbeing of her husband. "I'm so glad you could all make it. Alastor, thank you."
"It was nothing," Moody growled. It seemed even taking compliments he sounded angry. "Nothing wayward to report. No attacks. We weren't followed, I don't think."
"We're just glad we're able to help you out," Remus said more eloquently, receiving a glowing smile from Mrs Weasley. "And I think it is probably best if we leave you here for now. We wouldn't want Arthur to be overwhelmed and I think it would only be right if family got to see him first."
"Too right," Tonks agreed enthusiastically. Moody grunted his approval.
"Thank you, all of you," Mrs Weasley said again. "Now come along, your father's waiting. You too, Harry, Hermione. He'll want to see all of you."
Harry was a little overwhelmed. He had, in fact, taken a step closer to Remus with the expectation he would be staying and took awhile to respond.
"Come on, mate," Ron mumbled, clapping him on the shoulder as he passed, snapping Harry out of it. He followed the five red heads and one brunette into the room.
The ward was a surprisingly cheerful looking place, made more so by the Christmas festivities that seemed to have taken over the entire room. That was not to say it was devoid of sick people. Along the left wall was a woman with her leg bandaged and propped up in the air. Beside her was a pale faced man who seemed to be in a lot of discomfort. And beside him…
"Hello there," Mr Weasley beamed over at them, propped up on some pillows and looking for all the world completely fine. "So glad you could make it." The four Weasley children didn't hold back. They rushed forward to their father's bedside.
Mr Weasley wasn't alone when they reached him. Standing by the side of the bed was Percy, looking surprisingly more mature despite the short length of time it had been since Harry had last seen him, and another man, an old and grey haired man, dressed in a suit that seemed even older and sporting a rather magnificent moustache.
"Golly," the older man said. "That's some group you've got there. Are all these yours, Arthur?"
"Only the redheads," Mr Weasley said cheerfully. "The twins, they are Fred and George, this strapping young boy here is my son Ron, and this beautiful young woman is my daughter, Ginny. Everyone, this is Hippocrates Smethwyck. He's Healer-in-charge of the ward."
"Pleasure to meet you all," Healer Smethwyck told them enthusiastically. "Now, as I was just saying to Arthur as you came in, I think we're well on our way to having him discharged."
"Really?" Fred and George asked eagerly.
"Of course, if there's nothing of concern throughout today," Smethwyck told them. "Nobody should be away from their family at Christmas. Just don't overdo it, Arthur, okay. As much fun as your company has been I'd rather not be seeing you for quite some time."
"I'll do my best," Arthur promised. Healer Smethwyck smiled.
"Well then, I'll let you all catch up," he told them. "Pleasure meeting you." And he walked away, stopping to speak with the woman with the bandaged leg across the room. It was only a second before conversation erupted.
"You're looking good, dad."
"Blimey, don't scare us like that."
"How are you?"
Mr Weasley just smiled benignly at their babbling.
"I'm absolutely fine," he assured them, though Harry did notice him shifting with some discomfort. Harry wondered if Healer Smethwyck was only willing to release him because it was Christmas.
"What happened, dad?" Fred asked earnestly. "How did you end up like this?" Mr Weasley let out a nervous chuckle.
"Quite by accident, I can assure you," he told them. "I was working some overtime and decided to go off and stretch my legs for a bit. Walked down the wrong corridor it seems. Don't remember much until I came to, I'm afraid. Still it would have been a lot worse if it wasn't for Typhlosion." He let out a sigh. "They have a pretty strict policy about Pokémon in the ward," he told them. "I haven't had the opportunity to thank him yet."
"Do you know who attacked you?" Ron asked. Harry listened carefully too. The answer could possibly confirm his theory.
But Mr Weasley shook his head.
"Can't, I'm afraid," he admitted sadly. "Fellow got the jump on me."
"But do you know what Pokémon it was?" Harry asked. "Did you see what attacked you?" Mr Weasley looked slightly hesitant.
"Not exactly," he admitted. "I caught glimpses but nothing certain. All I can tell you is what the Healers said, and that is that the poison injected in me came from an Arbok."
"An Arbok?" Hermione replied worriedly. Harry and Ron shared wide eyed looks.
"Yes, a poison type Pokémon," Mr Weasley said, not seeming to notice their reactions. "Quite snake like. And with fangs, as you could probably guess."
"That's enough," Mrs Weasley said shortly, bringing the conversation to a screeching halt. "I think it would be better to stop focusing on what happened and instead focus on what really matters, and that is that your father is going to be fine." It was a valid point, but Harry couldn't help but think the real reason Mrs Weasley had spoken up was because they were drifting too close to Legion business.
"Now Percy, where's Bill got to?" Mrs Weasley asked. "I'd expected him to be here."
"To the cafeteria, I believe," Percy said simply.
"I thought they'd be back by now," Mrs Weasley said.
"I assume it will be that girlfriend of his," Percy said blandly. "Distracting him." That had a very big impact on the group.
"Girlfriend!" Ron burst out. Fred and George looked equally shocked. Ginny just rolled her eyes.
"Yes," said Percy simply.
"A delightful young woman, I assure you," Mr Weasley said happily. "So incredibly polite. Wished me quite the speedy recovery." Harry couldn't help but notice that neither Mrs Weasley nor Percy seemed anywhere near as pleased as Mr Weasley did.
"Why don't we send for him," said Percy, ignoring the talk about this mysterious girlfriend.
"Yes, good idea," Mrs Weasley said worriedly. "We should send the children. Remus, Tonks and Mad-Eye are waiting outside the door, I'm sure they'd like to see Arthur too." None of them were particularly keen to go, especially when it seemed Percy got to stay, but they left after only a minimum amount of fuss, meeting Remus, Tonks and Moody at the door.
"The tearoom is on the fifth floor," Remus informed them as they passed. "Quite a climb although I'd stay away from the lifts, they do need an upgrade."
And then the door was shut with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred and George stuck outside, not privy to the conversation going on on the other side of the door.
"Children," Fred complained. "Since when did Percy stop being one of the children."
"Got too big for his boots, I reckon," George agreed. "Nothing a few good pranks shouldn't sort out. He'll probably be around this Christmas."
"You will not prank him," Hermione said sternly. "You realise he's supposed to be getting into Fudge's good books and convincing him he's on bad terms with the family. Don't you realise how much it costs Percy to be here?" Fred and George didn't look particularly repentant but let the matter drop, instead turning back to the door.
"I wish we could still be in there," Fred muttered. "I wonder what they're talking about."
"Isn't it obvious?" Hermione spoke again. "They're talking about the attack." Fred rolled his eyes.
"I know that," he said. "But what exactly? What happened? I really wish I could hear."
"I know," Harry said. Everyone turned to him.
"You do?" It was Ginny who asked, looking slightly pale. Harry hesitated.
"I have a theory," he amended. "But from what I heard in there…" he trailed off. "Lets not talk out here." Harry walked briskly up the corridor and, in spite of what Remus had advised him, called for the elevator. It arrived a second later and Harry led them all inside. The door closed behind them.
"So what is it?" George asked. "What happened?" Harry took a breath.
"I think Mr Weasley was attacked on guard duty for the Legion," Harry told them. "I don't buy that he was just working overtime. Ron didn't recognise the corridor he was found in and he knows what all the places around your dad's office look like. He wasn't there."
"So you're saying dad is lying?" Ginny asked.
"To protect us from whatever all that Legion business is, yeah," Harry said. "You know none of the adults want us to have anything to do with the war, they think that keeping us ignorant will keep us safe."
"They forget that Harry will just figure it all out," Ron said with a grin. Harry shook his head.
"I'm just saying what I think," Harry told them, pressing the button for level five. The elevator ground into motion. "There's something dangerous hidden in the Ministry, something powerful, and Mr Weasley was protecting it the night he was attacked. And I'll bet you all the money I have that that Arbok that attacked him was Nagini."
The doors opened and for a moment they all stood still, even as a voice announced their arrival on level five, Fred, George and Ginny looking at him with a mixture of awe and horror. Harry wondered whether he shouldn't have said anything.
"Blimey," Fred muttered, the first one to react as he turned and stepped off the lift. "Incredible. And if it was anyone other than you, Harry, I wouldn't have believed it."
"Makes sense though," George agreed. "But still, terrifying. That You-know-who would send his own Pokémon into the Ministry…" They walked into the St Mungo's tearoom. "Oy, Bill!" George cried. Fred wolf-whistled.
The reason became clear as Harry followed the Weasleys into the tearoom and got his first glimpse of the eldest Weasley boy. He looked as cool as ever, even while sitting at the generic benches of St Mungo's tearoom, and sitting beside him was a beautiful blonde girl who was instantly familiar.
"Fleur?!"
Fleur Delacour beamed. "'Arry, it has been too long," she told him, climbing gracefully to her feet and swooping in to give him a kiss on each cheek. "And you, Ron and 'ermione." She repeated the process with them too, causing Hermione to get flustered and Ron to blush fiercely.
"Hello Harry," Bill greeted with an easy smile. "I see you know my girlfriend." Harry felt his head spin.
"Yeah, I…" he tailed off. "Fleur, what are you doing here?" Fleur smiled.
"I am working for Gringotts," she told him. "But my English iz not so good so I 'ave been getting some private lessons from Bill."
"Private lessons, is that what they're calling them these days?" George said, nudging his older brother in the ribs. Bill pushed him away, though he was smiling.
"Your English is very good already," Ron spoke up, still entranced by the French girl. "I can barely notice your accent." Next to him Hermione rolled her eyes and hit him.
"Thank you, Ron, but I 'ave much to learn," Fleur said humbly. "I still make so many mistakes."
"I agree with Ron," said Bill calmly. "Your English is wonderful." Fleur beamed at him, looking perhaps even more beautiful than before. It was easy to see what Bill found so attractive about her, and similarly what Fleur found so attractive about him.
"Now I get why dad was so fond of you," Fred said with a grin, sitting down at the table the couple had just vacated. "He couldn't be happier."
"Your father is a very brave and kind man," Fleur told him with forthright honesty. "It was an honour for me to meet him."
"Suck up," Harry heard Ginny mutter beside him. Fortunately no one else seemed to notice.
"So what are you lot doing here?" Bill asked, retaking his seat and helping Fleur down into the seat beside him. "Apart from visiting dad, of course."
"We got kicked out," Ron told him. Bill chuckled.
"We didn't do anything," Ginny defended. "They just wanted us out to talk about…" she shut up quickly. Everyone glanced at Fleur.
"She knows about the Legion," Bill said, keeping his voice down as he scanned the room. "Dumbledore has been trying to recruit her." Fleur nodded her beautiful blonde head.
"I want to," she told them passionately. "It is not right to stand on ze sidelines while people are hurt." She looked like she meant it. "Besides, 'e has already killed a friend of mine," she said in a softer tone. Harry looked away. Thoughts of Cedric still hurt.
"Well," Bill said eventually into the resulting silence. "Since it seems like you might be stuck out here for a while why don't you go and get something to eat." He gestured towards the food bar.
"Oh, we're not hungry," said Fred immediately.
"Yeah, why don't you lot go and get something," George agreed. "We'll just stay here. Hey, maybe we can get to know the lovely Fleur."
"Great idea, George," Fred said, as though that hadn't been his plan from the start. "We should do that." Bill rolled his eyes. Ginny giggled.
"We'll go," said Harry. He actually felt quite hungry, nerves surrounding Mr Weasley's condition had stopped him from getting a proper breakfast. "Anyone coming?"
Ron, Hermione and Ginny all followed him, and as soon as they left the table they could hear Fred and George start in on Fleur.
"Honestly," Hermione said, shaking her head, exasperated. "Those two are the worst. I bet they wouldn't be half as interested if she wasn't pretty."
"She wouldn't be Bill's girlfriend if she wasn't pretty," Ginny spoke up. That seemed a bit harsh, Bill had never come across as shallow, except Harry also couldn't imagine Bill with a girl who was anything other than beautiful.
"Give the guy a break," Ron said, coming to his brother's defence. "It's not like she's just pretty. She's smart and powerful too."
"And you know that how?" Ginny challenged.
"She was a Tri-Pokémon Champion," Harry spoke up. "She was the most talented and worthy that Beauxbatons had to offer." Ron pointed his finger at Harry as if to say that was his point exactly.
"Agreed," Hermione admitted. "And there's nothing wrong with being beautiful, of course. It's just a bit hard not to think that it has something to do with her looks."
That was probably true. After all, it was pretty hard to ignore how beautiful Fleur actually was. But still, Harry felt he'd come to know Fleur quite well. She didn't strike him as the sort of person who would allow anyone to objectify her.
"Well, I'm happy for them," he said, spooning some mashed potatoes onto his plate. "They really look like they enjoy each other's company." He turned to the next dish, accidentally bumping into someone behind him. "Oops, sorry."
There was a silence in the room that bothered Harry, Hermione and Ron both staring with wide eyes to the person behind him, which prompted Harry to take a second look.
"Professor Quirrel?!"
It had been three and a half years since Harry had last seen Quirinus Quirrel, and he had been in a bad way then. He didn't look too much better now. His face was horribly disfigured, a mess of scars that put even Mad-Eye Moody to shame, and he was staring down at Harry with something akin to terror.
"M-m-m-mr Pott-t-er," he stammered. The familiar speech pattern made Harry uneasy. The only reason he'd had his stutter in the first place had been due to his resistance against Voldemort's possession. But a quick glance down at Quirrell's hospital gown showed there was no place for a Pokéball to be hidden. This stutter was genuine.
"How are you doing?" Harry asked. He honestly felt bad for the man. He hadn't been in control for the entire time Harry had known him and he had suffered worst of all from Voldemort's possession.
"A-ah, g-good, Mr Pott-ter," Quirrel replied with a nervous smile. "Y-you look well. You t-too Mr Weasley and Miss G-granger." He tilted his head awkwardly to the pair of them. His usual turban had been replaced with a mesh of plain white bandages. It made his head look much smaller than usual.
"What are you doing here, Professor?" Harry asked respectfully. Despite his obvious ailments Quirrel did look as though he was capable of living on his own. Quirrel almost jumped at the question.
"Oh, j-just a check up," he told Harry. "A three day c-course of h-h-healing c-cream. To r-rid of the sc-sc-scars. Only the ph-physical ones, of course, n-nothing to do with the m-m-m-mental ones." He let out a nervous laugh. He was interrupted by a cough behind him. His expression turned angry.
"Can I not visit the tearoom without your supervision?" He demanded, his stutter evaporating as he turned to the small, plump nurse standing behind him. "Am I not an adult?" The nurse just fixed him with a stern look.
Quirrel closed his eyes.
"Alright," he admitted tiredly, before turning back to Harry. "A p-pleasure to see you, P-potter. I hope we m-meet again." He nodded to Hermione and Ron before following docilely after the nurse.
"Wow, he's even weirder than I remember," Ron said as Quirrel exited the room. "I feel sorry for him, but still."
"He seemed absolutely terrified to see you," Ginny noted. "It was like he was scared of you, Harry."
"I don't think it's really me," Harry disagreed.
"Right, I think it's more what Harry represents," said Hermione. "And what the two of us represent too. He spent a whole year possessed by You-know-who. And seeing us so unexpectedly must be a horrible reminder of what had happened."
"He was possessed?" Ginny asked, shocked.
"For a whole year," Ron nodded. "Until You-know-who sent him walking through fire and he melted. Poor guy." Ginny fell silent at those words. Harry wondered if she too was thinking about what had happened to her. As awful as it had been in many ways Ginny was lucky but Quirrel's comment about mental scars was more real to her than anyone.
They collected the rest of their food in silence and paid, Harry insisting on buying for all of them, before walking with their plates back to the table. As they reached it everyone else stood up.
"We're going to head back to the room," Bill told them. "It sounds like mum's getting a bit paranoid about us all."
"Good thing she's with Moody then," George commented. Bill ignored him.
"Eat up and meet us back downstairs. I can't promise I'll still be around but it would be nice to see you before I head off." And they were gone.
"I've got to say I'm surprised Quirrel is still hanging around," Ron said, continuing their previous conversation as though nothing had happened, spooning a large mound of food into his mouth.
"His wounds were terrible," Hermione reminded him. "You saw what he looked like." Ron shook his head, his mouth too full to respond. He swallowed.
"I mean I'm surprised he bothers to come back for the cream," he said. "He must have spent loads of time here after what happened to him. I know I'd want to avoid this place for as long as I could."
"I suppose getting rid of the scars are more important to him," Harry suggested.
"But the scars won't go away," Ron argued. "They'll get a bit better but there's no way that they'll heal much more after so long. The best that cream can do is nothing really. And three days here is a long time for something that won't help much. And around Christmas, too."
Harry shrugged. "Maybe he's just not over it," he suggested. "It's a big thing that happened to him. He lost independent thought for a year. You don't just go back to a normal life after that. And with his scars it's not like he can just forget it either. He'll see what happened every time he looks in a mirror." There was a sombre silence.
"I suppose no one can really guess how someone might react to a given situation," Hermione said sadly. "Especially if you haven't experienced it yourself."
"True," Harry muttered. Thoughts of Cedric, spurred by his encounter with Fleur, flitted through his mind. How could anyone understand what it was like to see someone die right in front of you if they hadn't seen it themselves? How could they understand what it was like to fight for your life? All these things Harry was trying to teach the DA to prepare for. There was no preparing for it. There was only the hope that once it happens you have the strength to carry on.
Quirrel had managed, Harry thought, but then he reconsidered. What sort of life did Quirrel have now? He was almost unrecognisable and the story of what had happened was pretty widely known. What life did Quirrel have left, other than his trips to St Mungo's and his relationship with his nurses? Perhaps that's why he didn't stutter when talking to the nurse. She was everything Quirrel had.
"We should probably be heading back," Hermione said, breaking Harry from his thoughts. He was startled to realise he'd finished his meal - he could not remember eating it. Ginny was finished too, having been equally as quite as him, and Hermione hadn't taken much food so she too had a clear plate. Only Ron was left.
"Just a second," he said and he scooped up all that was left on his plate and shoved it into his mouth. He swallowed. "Done."
Hermione shook her head at his disgusting behaviour but stood up anyway, carrying her plate over to the counter, Harry following her lead.
"It really was good to see Professor Quirrel again," she told him quietly as they walked to the door. Ron and Ginny were following a couple of steps behind them, just out of earshot.
"Good for who?" Harry wondered. He didn't feel particularly good right now.
"Well, for all of us I guess," Hermione told him. "I don't mean how we feel now but how we will feel. I just think this gives us a bit of closure, don't you?"
That made Harry wonder. The horrific injuries to Professor Quirrel had haunted his nightmares for some time after he'd seen them in person. He'd been only eleven years old and no one that young should have to deal with those things. Perhaps this would give him some comfort, to see Quirrel walking around and clearly living a life. But then again he wondered about what that life was. Would he have been better served dead?
"I think it might be good for Professor Quirrel, too," Hermione continued. "I got the feeling he'd been sort of ignoring what had happened, trying to pretend it was a dream or a delusion for some sort. I know it must be painful to be reminded of it but I do think that the best way in the long run to deal with things is to be honest about them."
"How long will that take, though?" Harry wondered. "Who knows how old Quirrel is but if he dies ten years from now and he spends nine in agony trying to process what happened to him… Maybe forgetting is better."
"I guess we'll never know," Hermione admitted. "I just wish I did. I wish I could help him."
Harry did too. He wanted to help so bad, the feeling of guilt about Quirrel's injuries always there despite the logic dictating that it wasn't his fault. But what could he do? The only things that could be done were being done, by St Mungo's. Harry hoped it would be enough.
"Neville?"
Harry pulled up, blinking at the sound of the familiar name. Sure enough Neville Longbottom stood before him, looking a lot like the last time Harry had seen him. And considering the situation last time that wasn't good.
"Harry?" Neville replied. It hadn't been Harry who had said his name but it was Harry who he saw first. "Ron? Hermione? What are you doing here?"
"Visiting my dad," Ron said casually. "Did you hear about what happened?"
"Oh, yes," Neville said, going rather pale. "I saw it in the Prophet. Is he alright?"
"He'll pull through," Ron told him. "I know what you're thinking, the Prophet picture looked bad, but the Healer says that dad's doing fine. He'll even be coming home tomorrow, as long as he doesn't do anything stupid." Neville smiled.
"That's good," he said. "I'm glad. I was really worried when I read about it. I guess that's why you guys left early." Harry and Ron nodded.
"So what are you doing here, Neville?" Hermione asked curiously. "Are you visiting anyone?"
And that was when Harry realised what was going on and his eyes flashed to the door in front of which Neville was standing. They were on the fourth floor and Harry had read the floor descriptions. This ward was for patients with permanent damage.
Neville looked a bit lost to answer, understandably once Harry realised who was most likely behind that closed door, but he was saved from responding when it opened. An austere looking woman stepped out. Old, and wearing a fox fur scarf and vulture topped hat, this could only be Neville's grandmother.
"What are you waiting for Neville?" She said sharply. "Were we not meeting in the reception?" Neville was too overwhelmed to respond, and so Madam Longbottom turned her attention to them.
"And who are you?" She asked, her eyes sharp.
"Eh," Ron said nervously. Madam Longbottom was obviously intimidating.
"We're Neville's friends," Hermione answered quickly. "From Hogwarts."
"Friends?" Madam Longbottom repeated. She sounded surprise. "Neville, you didn't say you had friends." Neville looked incredibly awkward.
"Eh, yes," said Hermione, looking as though she was trying to spare Neville from his gran's judgement. "My name's Hermione Granger. This is Ron and Ginny Weasley, and this is Harry Potter. We're all in Gryffindor with Neville."
"Really?" Madam Longbottom replied. "Potter?" Unsurprisingly she focused on him.
"Yes," Harry said simply. Madam Longbottom looked impressed.
"Well, good on you," she told him. "Coming all the way out here for your friend. My son doesn't get many visitors aside from myself and Neville. It would be good for him to have some more company." Harry immediately felt sick.
"Gran," Neville said. His voice was tiny. "They're not here to see dad." Madam Longbottom frowned.
"And why not?" She asked. "Why are they here?"
"Eh, my dad was attacked," Ron answered awkwardly. "He's downstairs. Neville, I didn't know… I mean…"
"You didn't tell them?" Madam Longbottom boomed, staring down at her grandson. "You didn't even tell your friends about what happened to your parents." Neville shook his head, staring at the ground. Madam Longbottom pulled herself up to her full height.
"Well, if you won't then I will," she told him. The disappointment on her face as she looked at Neville was startling. "My son, Frank, and his wife, Alice, are longterm residents of St Mungo's. When Neville was young they were attacked by some of You-know-who's followers for information and have been comatose since. Unlike some members of the family I am proud of their sacrifice. My son was a great man, I will not hide the lengths he went to protect his family."
If Neville could have looked smaller he would have. As his grandmother talked it seemed as though a weight had fallen on his shoulders, getting heavier and heavier with each passing word and condemnation. He looked beaten.
"Come along, Neville," Madam Longbottom said sharply. It seemed like she had said her bit. "We've got a long journey ahead of us."
Neville went without complaint. Harry wondered if it was always like this with his grandmother. It made sense why Neville had always had so little confidence with himself. He had a lot to live up to, much like Harry, but while Harry hadn't known about his parents' sacrifice growing up Neville had no doubt been reminded of it every single day.
"Oh my god," Hermione whispered. She looked horrified.
"I can't believe it," muttered Ron.
"Poor Neville," said Ginny.
Watching Neville go Harry agreed with all of what they said and so desperately he wanted to reach out and help. He wanted to call back, tell Madam Longbottom that Neville was proud of his parents and wasn't ashamed, tell her how Neville was fighting back and how he was getting stronger and stronger and how he would live up to his father's name.
But he didn't, because he knew Neville wouldn't want him to. This was Neville's fight. Neville felt like he had to prove himself to his Gran but the truth was that he'd more importantly need to prove himself to himself, and Harry couldn't help with that. That was Neville's challenge to beat.
"I can't believe what happened to them," Ron muttered as they slowly began to descend the stairs again. All good humour had gone.
"Didn't you say something about this before?" Hermione wondered. "I remember something back in first year, you hinted You-know-who was the reason Neville's parents were missing."
"That was a guess," Ron admitted. "Lots of families were like that, I just assumed that Neville would be the same. I thought they'd just died, like my Uncle Gideon and Uncle Fabian. Not this."
"It is awful," Hermione admitted. "I had no idea."
"I did," Harry said quietly. He didn't know why he admitted it. He supposed he just wanted to tell his story now he had no reason to keep it hidden.
"You did?" Hermione gasped. "How?" Harry sighed.
"I saw this thing, in Dumbledore's office," he told them. "It was some sort of plant and it recorded things, like things that had happened in the past. I ended up seeing this scene where the LeStranges and Barty Crouch Jr were on trial. They were the ones responsible."
Hermione looked shocked. "They were?" She gasped. "Why didn't you tell us?" Harry shrugged.
"It wasn't my story to tell," he admitted. "I know I wouldn't like someone talking about this behind my back. It was Neville's secret to tell."