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Soon after the twins' birthday, the Easter holidays arrived and Draco and Neville found themselves in Snape's office.
"Alright," started Snape, looking at the two boys in front of him. "I have already owled Prof. Spleen the finished potion-"
"Owled?" interrupted Neville, ignoring the glowering from their Professor. He was too excited to be scared. He had been a bundle of nerves over the last days before the Easter break, a fact which had increasingly grated on Snape's nerves.
"5 points from Gryffindor for interrupting a teacher," sneered Snape, "and yes, owled. It is a delicate potion. Merlin knows what sending it via the Floo network would do to it."
Neville nodded.
"And what are the potions on the table for?" Draco asked, motioning towards to vials on the table.
The corners of Snape's lips twitched into a crooked smile. "Polyjuice."
"Polyjuice?" repeated Draco.
"Mr. Longbottom, your parents and I were acquaintances at school and, I must admit, not on the best of terms. I believe it to be beneficial to our cause to not alert them to my presence and involvement for the foreseeable future."
They both nodded their heads, although Draco suspected that that was not the only reason for keeping his presence secret for now.
"Why two vials?" Draco asked.
"The other is for you," Snape said, "unless you want your parents to know of this... field trip?"
"Ehm, no," Draco laughed nervously, "I'd rather they didn't."
"Alright," nodded Snape. He took one of the vials and drank it all in one go. Judging by his facial expression, the taste was not all too pleasant. A few seconds later, it was no longer Snape standing in front of them, but a man with short blond hair, green eyes and freckles.
Draco did not recognize the face, and did not want to know where Snape had gotten the hair. He reached for the other vial, which shimmered orange and did not smell all that bad. He gulped it down and felt his body shiver. Once transformed, Draco walked over to a mirror and studied his new reflection - or rather glared at it.
"You look like a Weasley," Neville commented, and indeed, he did. Red hair, green eyes and freckles.
Draco sighed. Not his favorite hair color, but as a disguise it would work.
"So what should I call you?" Neville finally asked.
"Septimus?" Snape offered after thinking it over for a few seconds.
"Not very creative," Draco chuckled, "but close enough in case we mess up. Then I'll be... Darian."
Neville nodded, repeating the names a couple of times so he would not forget. "Okay," he finally said, turning towards the fireplace, "this is it."
Draco put a hand on Neville's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze, "It will work."
Neville gave him a nervous smile.
Snape handed each of them some floo powder.
Draco went first.
"St. Mungo's," he said, his voice steady. He threw the powder and stepped into the green flame, letting it engulf him. A few seconds later he emerged from another fireplace, stepping right into the crowded reception area of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. There were what seemed to be hundreds of witches and wizards, sitting on rickety wooden chairs, waiting to be treated. Some of them looked perfectly normal while they read their out-of-date copies of Witch Weekly, while others sported gruesome disfigurements.
All not unusual for Draco, who had been to St. Mungo's a few times already, visiting sick relatives or attending charity galas his parents had been invited to. What was, however, unusual, was that the hall was strangely quiet. This part of the hospital was usually alive with noise that reminded one more of a busy market than a hospital. The only sounds that could now be heard were coming from those who could not prevent them, like one wizard who roared like a lion, or another who could not help but hiccup every ten seconds, releasing soap bubbles every time he opened his mouth.
Looking around some more, the absence of the usually buzzling atmosphere made more sense to Draco. Many of the injuries seemed to have been caused by others.
Hogwarts was rather isolated and students only knew of what was going on in the real world through newspapers and the letters from their families. The violence and bloodshed of an approaching war were something abstract. Something that the newspapers mentioned, something that shocked them every morning when they read about it, but something that otherwise did not affect them. But here, the signs of civil unrest were omnipresent. Usually the patients were caught in magical accidents, but now the majority of the wounds seemed to stem from malevolent curses and jinxes. Paranoia was running high as well. Only very few Death Eaters and supporters of the Dark Lord were known by the public, so no one knew on whose side the person sitting next to them was.
Having barely moved after stepping out of the fireplace - mostly to take in his surroundings - someone crashed into him and he stumbled to the ground, landing at the feet of a wizard in lime-green robes. He almost yelped when he looked up and scrambled away from the feet in front of him, backing into Neville, who had been the cause for his fall.
Draco had immediately recognized the healer in front of him.
"Watch out, boys," the wizard with dark blond hair and piercing blue eyes said. His tone was not unfriendly, but it still made Draco shiver. Gibbon, he thought, a Death Eater.
"Sorry, sir," replied Neville, unaware of who he was talking to, and helped Draco to his feet.
Behind them appeared Snape in disguise. He avoided Draco's gaze and nodded in the man's direction, then put his hands on the boys' shoulders, steering them away from him and towards the Janus Thickey Ward.
Draco tried to not look at anyone directly. He recognized several more supporters of the Dark Lord among the healers. No wonder the mood was so… weird.
He ignored the queasiness he felt and thanked Merlin – and Snape – for his disguise. He could not bare thinking what would happen if his parents found out what he was doing.
"Mr. Longbottom," the delighted voice of an older healer, which Draco recognized as Prof. Helbert Spleen, the healer he and Neville had met at Slughorn's Christmas party, could be heard. He had been talking to someone, but now walked towards them, a friendly smile on his lips.
He looked at the blond man who was Snape, "Severus, I presume?"
"Septimus," Severus replied, nodding in his direction.
"Mr. Malfoy?" Spleen whispered, leaning down towards Draco.
Draco nodded and smiled. For a second, he thought he saw Lockhart roaming the hall, but his attention was soon focused elsewhere, when an old lady, the person Spleen had just been talking to, approached them, or rather marched towards them. Although she was tall, thin and bony, she was surrounded by an intimidating aura of confidence, which made the people in her way jump aside to let her pass. She wore a familiar-looking hat with a stuffed vulture on it and carried a bright red handbag.
Draco risked a glance in Snape's direction. The potion's master eyed Augusta Longbottom with a nasty look on his face, and Draco had to pretend to cough to keep from laughing out loud.
"Neville," she said sternly, "what is going on here?"
Neville gulped. "Uhm-"
Neville's eyes darted towards the others. Spleen shrugged apologetically. "As a healer it is my duty to inform the legal guardians of my patients of any planned changes in treatment."
"Changes in treatment?" Augusta asked.
"Not out here," Mr. Spleen said, leading them away from the busy hall and into Frank and Alice Longbottom's room.
Even though the room had sunshine streaming in through a window, Draco thought that the atmosphere was rather gloomy. Upon entering, his eyes fell on a woman standing in the middle of the room. Her face was thin and worn, her eyes seemed overlarge and her hair, which had turned white, was wispy and dead-looking. Alice Longbottom looked nothing like Draco had imagined. Neville had shown him photos, but those had been taken long before the fateful day that had changed their lives forever.
"Can someone explain to me what is going on here?" asked Augusta impatiently. "Neville, who are these people?"
"This is- uhm- Sn- Se-"
"Septimus Fleming," Snape said, stepping forward and shaking Mrs. Longbottom's hand. "Potions master, specialized in healing."
Augusta looked wary, but greeted him politely. Then she turned her gaze on Draco. "And who are you? Are you the friend from school Neville has been talking about in his letters? I do not think I ever got your name."
"Darian," Draco answered, glancing sideways at Neville, who was concentrating on his shoes.
"Lovely to meet you. But why are you here? Can someone explain," Augusta urged.
With "Misses Longbottom," began Helbert Spleen's long explanation of their plans.
Draco's attention wandered from Spleen to the other occupant in the room, which he hadn't noticed earlier.
On the bed at the far end of the room sat a man. He had his back turned and was staring out of the window. Frank Longbottom's frame was as thin as that of his wife, his hair just as white. And had he turned around, Draco was sure, his eyes would have been just as empty and unfocused as hers.
Their appearance sent shivers down Draco's spine. He had mentally prepared to encounter Neville's parents, had known what the Cruciatus Curse had done to them all those years ago. But nothing could have prepared him for the gut wrenching guilt he now felt, as his mind violently replayed scenes from his last year at Hogwarts. He had used the Curse on his classmates. His Curse had never been particularly strong, but it had worked and he had watched as his victims screamed and cried and fell to the ground shaking violently. He had watched his fellow students torture each other. He had watched his teachers use the Curse as a punishment for supposed "misdemeanors" that couldn't even be called that. He had fallen asleep to the sound of screaming prisoners at his parents manor. He had used the Curse, he had watched it being used, and all the while he had said nothing. For the longest time he thought such actions justified, now he wanted to vomit.
"What do you mean 'no'?!" Neville's loud voice brought Draco back to the present and his attention to the other two Longbottoms in the room.
"No," said Augusta sternly, "and that is final. This treatment has never been tested and might be dangerous. I will not risk your parents' lives and health for something that has never even been tested. The audacity...," Augusta shook her head. She turned towards Prof. Spleen. "How dare you play with other's lives like this? How dare you-"
"He hasn't done anything!" yelled Neville, and Draco was sure he had never heard him this angry before. His anger at Sirius for breaking into the Gryffindor common room and his anger at Draco's use of the Cruciatus on Pettigrew were nothing compared to what he was displaying now. "And what life are you talking about? What health?!"
"Watch your tongue," hissed Augusta.
Draco had anticipated a lot of things that could go wrong with their plan, but he had not thought about the possibility of someone refusing the treatment. He hadn't even thought about the need for a legal guardian's approval.
"How can you just say no?" Neville asked.
"This is not your decision to make. Maybe you are just too young to understand. I love your-"
"Obviously you don't," yelled Neville. "If you really loved them you'd do something! You wouldn't just pass up a chance like that!"
Draco never found out what Augusta's answer to that statement would have been - he sincerely hoped that it would have been a verbal instead of a physical reply - as Helbert Spleen stepped between grandmother and grandson. He put a reassuring hand on Neville's shoulder and turned towards Mrs. Longbottom.
"I understand your worries, Mrs. Longbottom," he started calmly. "I have looked at your son's file. He has been through several expensive experimental treatments and none have led to an improvement in his condition."
Neville, still panting from rage, looked at his grandmother with wide eyes, whereas Augusta just nodded her head.
"Some have caused them immense pain..." she said.
Helbert nodded. "It must have been hard, to invest so much time and energy, only to be disappointed again and again."
"I cannot go through this again," Augusta said. "They suffered and nothing changed. Perhaps it was selfish of me. They are not unhappy. At least they don't appear unhappy." She glanced at Alice and Frank.
"So that's it?" interrupted Neville. "You have given up?"
"I have not given up," Augusta replied. "But I do no longer want to hope for something that is impossible."
"So you have given up," Neville repeated. This time, it wasn't a question.
"Do you have any idea how painful this has been for me? The healers have told me again and again that there is nothing that can be done... I did not believe them, at first. I did not want to... But every treatment they tried... they were right."
"Then why do we keep on visiting them?" Neville growled, his hot and explosive anger turning cold and resentful.
"What?"
"Why do we keep on coming here, if there is no hope? They don't recognize us and they never will. We might as well stay home and forget about them."
"Neville!" His grandmother sounded shocked. "How can you even..." she trailed off, searching for the right words. Just then Alice approached them.
She seemed like a ghost, the way she looked, but when she reached Augusta, she stretched out her hand, and when Augusta extended her own hands, Alice dropped what looked like a candy wrapper into them.
"Thanks, dear," Augusta mumbled, seemingly forgetting about their fight for a moment.
"You know," Neville said, "you keep on telling me that I have to throw them away, but I know that you keep yours as well."
Augusta gulped and looked at the wrapper in her hand.
"I know how it feels to be disappointed again and again, and how it feels to lose hope," said Prof. Spleen, entering the conversation again. "My parents were muggles, and my mother died of cancer when I was still very young. In the end, she refused to try any more treatments, because the pain of such treatments was worse than the chance of them working. I cannot guarantee that this will work - and we will not use it if you are against it - but neither the potion nor the legilimancy we are planning to use will cause them any pain."
Augusta just continued to stare at the wrapper.
"Please," whispered Neville, looking at his grandmother.
Augusta looked from the candy wrapper, to her grandson, and then to Alice and Frank.
"Is it- could it really-?" Augusta Longbottom buried her face in her hands, shaking her head. But when she looked up again, her gaze was determined. "Let's do this."
TBC