Time flies, the children come home, and the Greyback family takes a trip to St Mungo's. Hermione collects another mother.
The time that followed passed in strange leaps and bounds, with momentous life events occurring in between mundane everyday activities such as studying for midterm exams and doing parkour to avoid broom practice.
After the awkward confrontation regarding the state of their relationship, with the question of who had and who hadn't moved on out in the open but left unanswered, Remus and Sirius had both taken to steadfastly ignoring each other. Harry and Hermione were gleefully satisfied that Sirius didn't seem interested in trying to wedge himself in between Remus and their father, but also simultaneously felt terribly guilty that all three adults just seemed rather miserable in general. They would eventually need to find a better long term solution that left everyone satisfied, but to make any immediately overt moves would be overstepping while feelings were still sore all around.
That very same evening Narcissa had come and told them a heartbreaking story about what her sister had done to Neville's parents. At her firm encouragement, Hermione had done a brief ritual that had disowned Bellatrix and cut her off from the family magic. It had been hugely emotional for the both of them, and had left her feeling sticky and greasy and wrong-footed. The guilt had clung to her for days afterwards, and even knowing what evil acts the woman had done she wondered still if she'd made the right choice. Family was supposed to always stick together and forgive each other, but what she'd done… it left a bad taste in her mouth and ran thoroughly perpendicular to what her wolf said was how pack was supposed to behave.
Hermione's pressure on the minister via statements in the Daily Prophet had successfully garnered public interest and support for Sirius' cause. Floundering to keep his position amidst a growing scandal, he had commanded the wizengamot to hold a trial. However, irate at being used by the minister as a part of his political machinations, the court had somewhat vengefully scheduled Sirius' trial for as far out as possible. Sirius wouldn't see his day in court until well into the next calendar year. Although on a surprisingly positive note they had also ordered the manhunt to be called off until such time as he had sat trial, and granted him a temporary pass to be seen at St Mungo's and conduct business at Gringotts in the interim if need be.
Rowle had frustratedly explained that it could both help and hurt their case to push back the trial even by a few months; obviously the more time they had the better they'd be able to prepare evidence and gather witnesses and statements, but Sirius having been so visibly deteriorated by his terrible stint in Azkaban was also the strongest tool they had in terms of garnering outrage and sympathy from the court. The longer he had to recover the less of an impact it would have. Every ounce of weight he gained back on potions and treatments at home and at the hospital, while good for his health and well being, jeopardized his appearance of having been truly wronged by the system.
The last week of the month of October passed by quickly, and after their classes were done for the day the twins came home again once more for the afternoon of Samhain. Sirius was well enough to be out of bed by then, and he and Remus accompanied them on a visit to pay their respects at the Potters' grave in Godric's Hollow. It was a bit awkward as the two men were still pointedly ignoring each other, but they managed to put their personal matters aside to take turns telling Harry about the life his parents had made together in the sweet little village. Hermione had stopped listening entirely and had been practically vibrating with excitement from the moment she realized that the kindly old neighbor who had occasionally minded her brother as a baby was none other than renowned author and historian Bathilda Bagshot, one of her personal heroes. Their father had grudgingly promised that they could drop by for a brief hello if she could bring herself to be patient for the rest of the visit.
Harry took his cue from the two men who had addressed their friends' grave directly as if speaking to them, and had done the same. He told them all about being found and adopted and loved more than any orphan could hope for in their absence, and Hermione excitedly told them about what a great addition he was to their family and pack. Their father's eyes were suspiciously wet and shiny by the time it was his turn to say a few words, and he choked out how grateful he was to them for having had such a wonderful son and how lucky he was to have been the one to find him. It was a bittersweet remembrance, and all of them were left feeling rather tender afterwards.
The children flooed back to school just in time to join in the feast with their classmates, who very politely made no mention of their absence. They wore their tall pointed witch hats, ate chocolate frogs and cauldron cakes and pumpkin everything, and drank fizzy green apple soda that looked like pond scum. The professors led them out onto the grounds where large bonfires burned merrily, and for a lovely evening they got to be children and laugh and have a riot with their cousins and friends and classmates. They each got to add a small branch to one of the fires, and it made them feel very grown-up and important.
There were absolutely no terrible interruptions or catastrophic breaches of castle security.
As November came and went they finished learning the last of the curriculum for their fall term and began studying to prove they could retain what they had learned for their upcoming exams. All of their professors promised they'd be no easy feat, and so the children studied like their lives depended on the grace of their good marks. Long afternoons and evenings were spent in the library and in practice rooms, reading and rereading their texts and drilling their spellwork. They made feathers float up to the rafters and teacups spin on their saucers, and they studied centuries of goblin rebellions with keen suspicion that the victors had written the textbooks.
In another life they might have fought or argued amongst themselves over how critical these first year midterm exams really were in the grand scheme of their education, but they were family and so they made it a priority to be kind to each other and tolerate each others' foibles and eccentricities.
(Also Fred and George had heartily assured them that no ickle firstie was ever sent packing on account of poor scores, and that they knew for certain because they'd checked the roster in the library archives and many firsties over the years had indeed done exceptionally poorly and still been allowed to continue their tuition.)
(Percy had unfortunately overheard this and done everything he could to firmly discourage them from giving anything less than their absolute best performance, which he believed necessitated dedicating every free moment one had to one's studies until such time as they were complete, much like an ascetic monk who had sworn off all worldly pleasures.)
Snow began to fall at the beginning of December, and it proved a dangerously tempting distraction from their books. Three straight days of constant heavy snowfall left the world outside the castle a thick white fluffy blanket that practically begged to be trodden through. It came up nearly to the rafters of the groundskeeper's hut, making it look less like a house and more like a squat frozen igloo. Only the curling grey smoke that escaped from the chimney gave it away. To the delight of the student body, herbology and care of magical creatures lessons were summarily canceled for the remainder of the term.
When Mr Hagrid dragged enormous whole evergreen trees root and all into the castle, the snow he shook off of himself was enough to form entire drifts. The caretaker raged at him for making such a nasty wet mess, but tiny professor Flitwick simply vanished it all before the cantankerous old man could bring their disagreement to blows. He was still sneering and snarling as he left the hall, and his cat's fur stood puffed up angrily on end as she slunk out after him. There was little he could say later when the trees were dry and beautifully decorated with silver crystalline icicles and gleaming gold stars in the great hall, and he and his familiar both sulked unhappily with a sour looks on their faces.
Seeing as Hogwarts was a magical school whose students who were predominantly from magical families, most of whom observed Yule rather than Christmas, term ended well before the solstice to give said families time to prepare and celebrate. The holiday fell on the 21st of December, which was a Saturday, so students were released early from their classes on the Friday a week before to pack their things and take the train back to London.
In their last week at the castle many owls went back and forth between the children and their parents debating what portion of their holidays should be spent at whose houses. They'd come to a tentative agreement that Harry and Hermione would spend the 16th through the 20th at Long Hall with Neville, the 21st through 29th would be spent apart at their own homes, and the 30th through the 3rd would be spent with Neville joining them at the Greyback compound. They'd take the train back to school on the 5th, which was a Sunday, and their new term would start the next day.
There was a zippy twinge of mischief in the air all day as said their goodbyes to professors and classmates and trundled through thick snow banks to the station at Hogsmeade. It was a Friday the 13th, and the expectation of some prank or fright hung over their heads with an anticipatory thrill. Everyone's eyes frequently returned with suspicion to the Weasley twins, but strangely enough they seemed to be on their best behavior. It was only after they'd boarded the train and were an hour into the journey home that the pair proudly confessed that they'd rigged every single toilet in the entire castle to explode in a massive chain reaction, starting with the one in Mr Filch's personal quarters.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
As the hours passed they played games and ate snacks from a wonderful picnic basket that Kipper had packed for them. The topic of discussion hovered excitedly around how they might have done on their exams and what gifts they'd like to receive for Yule. Neville wanted a rare plant and Harry admitted he'd been somewhat jealously longing for a pet of his own since his sister had come back to school with a cat. All of their Weasley cousins thought that Draco was off his nut asking for a new top of the line racing broom, but he insisted that he'd behaved well all term and gotten the second highest grades in their year and that his father rewarded success appropriately. Ron pragmatically announced that all he hoped for was that his sweater wasn't maroon this year.
(Hermione privately worried that he was getting even those low hopes up, as she'd been to his house more recently than he had and could distinctly recall having seen a basket of knitting with maroon yarn in it.)
The younger ones all thought Fred and George were pulling their legs when they insisted that they only wanted money, but upon being further pressed the two older boys actually seemed quite serious. To everyone's awkward discomfort they were quite tight lipped, refusing to say more about the matter. What sorts of trouble those two could get into if they were well funded almost didn't bear thinking about.
It was only just as the lushly padded bench seats of their compartment began to feel stiff and uncomfortable underneath their bums from sitting so long that the train finally slowed and pulled into the London station. They all eagerly shot to their feet as it ground to a shuddering halt, stretching and groaning as feeling returned to their legs, and hurried to gather their belongings. Crookshanks grumbled unhappily as Hermione tried to coax him into his wicker carrier, refusing to go without the lure of a piece of his favorite salmon jerky. The children all gagged and retched as she opened the bag of stinky treats, but the cat licked his chops excitedly and dove headlong into the basket to chase after it.
Harry's eyebrows rose as they left the compartment and he turned to his sister "Is that - am I smelling dad? From all the way on the platform?" he asked her incredulously, drawing intensely curious looks from the other children around them in the hallway of the train car."Have you always been able to pick him out from so far away? This is so wild," he remarked with awe, darting off to go track down their father. She shook her head in amusement before taking off to follow after him. Seeing her brother come fully into his senses made something funny flipflop in her chest, and she felt a lovely sugary sweet affection for him warm her from her nose to her toes.
Only just short of pushing and shoving, the two quickly made their way through the glacially slow-moving crowd of older and taller students that were diligently queuing to disembark the train car. As soon as they spotted an opening they took it and leapt down onto the platform below, causing enraged shouts of "Queue-breakers!" to erupt behind them. Their father was easy to spot, standing out among the crowd a good head and shoulders higher than all the other parents milling about waiting for their little darlings.
Surrounding him were the always odd mix of Weasleys and Malfoys, old enemies made into somewhat awkward new allies. Narcissa and Arthur had Andromeda between them, who looked to be doing most of the conversational heavy lifting. Lucius seemed about a million miles away next to Molly, his eyes glazed over and clearly not listening to a word she was saying to him. All of the adults visibly perked up when they saw the two children rushing in their direction, leaning to see behind them for glimpses of where their own young ones might be. Other parents nearby wisely got out of the way as the two approached at speed and launched themselves bodily at their father. With a hearty growl of laughter he leaned down to scoop them up into his enormous arms and pull them into a squeezing tight bear hug.
"Harry's finally starting to learn how to use his nose properly!" Was the first thing that came out of Hermione's mouth as soon as he stopped rocking and spinning them around like a carnival ride. She loudly and gleefully made her announcement directly into their father's ear canal. Fenrir winced, but grinned proudly down at his son "Aye, my boy, is that so?" He asked with a great big grin on his face, making him look nearly like a boy again himself if one ignored the bushy beard. Their emphatic nods followed, and after he set them down he rubbed his chin playfully as if in serious thought "Well I suppose there's only one fair test to prove it, lad. You'll simply have to tell us what we all had for dinner last night," He demanded, and he crossed his arms across his broad chest and squinted down at the boy.
He glanced over at Hermione "No helping him now either, my girl," he warned her and she gasped and clutched her chest. "I would never," She swore "wolf's honor!"
Harry put his hands on his hips and looked pointedly over his gathered family, greeting them all politely in turn and not so surreptitiously taking deep whiffs in through his nose and mouth while doing so. His sister clapped her hand to her forehead as he did "…It's a good thing still there's time to teach you how to be subtle," she muttered in embarrassment, shaking her head. He poked her in the ribs and she took it in stride.
Their cousins and friends had caught up with them as he was beginning to make his guesses, and began cheering him on. Fred and George called out random gross food combinations to try and throw him off, but he was on a hot streak and was right every time despite their sabotage. Everyone was thoroughly impressed, and praised his phenomenal sense of smell. Not wanting him to get a big head, Hermione casually rattled off what the same adults all had for breakfast two days before, to their astonishment and awe. "Gotta stay on your toes! Looks like I've still got the stronger snout between us," she told him with a sharp grin and a sportsmanlike return poke. He groaned and begrudgingly acknowledged that she had superior senses and was therefore the alpha twin.
"Enough bloodhound shenanigans," Draco interjected imperiously, "I want to know how we're going to celebrate Yule as a family if it's a full moon that night," he asked, to his parents utter mortification.
Lucius blanched and Narcissa very nearly stumbled over her words as she rushed to both chide and answer him "Really Draco, remember where we are, darling. Anyone could be listening!" She said, glancing around them nervously "If you must know I've been collaborating with Madam Longbottom to plan a Yule Gala for the evening before the day itself. You'll get to see your uncle and cousins and have a grand time, and then we'll see them all again the day after the holiday for whatever private festivities you'd like to enjoy. How does that sound, my darling dragon?" She asked him sweetly, a tender smile on her face that Hermione thought made her looks quite soft and motherly. He blushed and nodded, muttering an apology under his breath.
Thinking about him after having heard his grandmother mentioned, Hermione twisted her neck around to look and see where Neville had gotten off to. He was several meters away, speaking softly with a severe looking older woman and a little house elf. The woman locked eyes with her almost immediately, and the intensity of her gaze combined with the tall taxidermied vulture balanced precariously on her hat made for quite an intimidating sight to behold. Wordlessly, she righted herself and headed in their direction. She approached with her best curtesy and her head bowed low, "Hello Madam Longbottom," she said as deferentially as her wolf would allow her. It wasn't in her nature to submit, but she needed to make a good impression.
Nev hopped to attention, standing straight and clearing his throat "Gran, I would like to introduce to you my very dear friend the Lady Black, miss Hermione Greyback," he said, his voice strong and clear without a hint of nerves. She couldn't have been prouder of him if she tried, and she rose to her standing height and beamed at him toothily. The woman made a peculiar sound that she hoped might have been approval, or at least neutral consideration. At the very least she didn't smell angry.
She glanced between the two of them, her eyes landing again on Hermione "Well met, miss Greyback. I thought I'd heard enough about you just from my Neville's letters home, but it appears to be that you're the season's diamond. Everyone I meet has had nothing but good things to tell me about you, dear girl. Consider me suitably impressed," she barked, both kind and brash simultaneously. Hermione was very nearly flummoxed, and had to think quite hard for a moment to remember her etiquette lessons with Narcissa to determine just how she should respond. She raised her hands to pat her cheeks demurely "I'm flattered then, madam, to have already attained your fair opinion. There's nothing I should like to have more," she said humbly. She was pleased to see the woman smile, and though small, it seemed genuine.
"My cousin Narcissa was just telling us about the gala the two of you have been planning, and I'm ever so excited to attend!" She continued hastily, bouncing a bit on the balls of her feet. "I've never been to a ball before, I only barely know how to dance because aunt Cissa taught me over the summer," she admitted a bit shyly. Lady Longbottom hummed thoughtfully, and gave a sharp nod "You might need to give her some lessons over the week to help her get more comfortable beforehand then, Neville. My grandson is a fine dancer, I trained it into him since the day he could walk. He may be a bit… unsteady on his feet at times, but get him on a dance floor and he's just as graceful as a swan!" She boasted, practically crowing. Poor Nev was beet red, but he nodded eagerly "O-of course! I'd b-be glad to help if you ne-ee-eed a refresher before the p-p-ppp-party," he offered, his voice soft and stumbling again.
Her heart went out to her darling friend, who was so good and kind and tried so very hard. Daring a glance at his grandmother, whose eyes had gone a bit misty and whose fingers were going white from how hard she was gripping her cane, Hermione rushed to his side and gave him a hug nearly as tight as the one her father had given her moments before. She tried to telegraph as much love and affection into it as humanly possible "I'd appreciate that very much Nev, you're the best friend I could have ever asked for," she said, her own voice thick with emotion. She stepped back and nodded at them both "I'll write to you over the weekend, and see you on Monday!" She said, before waving and returning to her family, a happy hop and a skip in her step.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Being back at the compound was a joy, especially knowing she'd actually get a chance to be here and stay here for a while before having to return. The air was as crisp and clear as it had been on the grounds at the castle, and a lovely blanket of snow must have fallen the previous night, because it was deep and nearly untouched with only a few stomped-flat paths crossing through it. The sensation of having not just a few pack members here and there around her in an otherwise crowded school, but rather being utterly surrounded by it was nearly overwhelming. It felt like a limb she hadn't even realized was missing had suddenly grown back. She could scarcely believe how little she'd thought of the rest of the pack in the last four months while she'd been away.
She felt her brother's voice bloom warmly in her mind 'just because we haven't spent every waking moment thinking about them doesn't mean we haven't still been serving them just by being where we are' he thought towards her 'we're a pair of relatively well behaved werewolf children, visible in public for the first time in… well, maybe ever. Even just going to school and learning and not causing problems sets precedent for others to join us someday. Proving we're safe to be around, that we're just like them. Maybe this time next year Rainy and Tim and Bobberty and Melvynthia will be coming home with us from school,' he imagined wistfully. She sighed contentedly, that was a grand thought, and it did make her feel better.
Laying down on her back, she slowly pressed an angel into the snow and felt him do the same next to her. "I have an idea, but I'm not sure how it'll make you feel," she mumbled aloud. Glancing over, his face looked serene and she hated to potentially upset him "Not that I think you'll disagree, but that it might make you sad," she added, nerves building. "Sad how?" He asked, his brows scrunched in confusion as he turned his head to the side to look at her.
She squirmed a bit under his gaze "It's about what aunt Cissy told me, what her sister Bellatrix did to Neville's parents. I've been thinking of what I can do as the head of house to make things right. Like… officially. I want to make a public apology at the party, but I also want to visit them at the hospital where they live and apologize in private first. See if they're really as far gone as she said, if they're suffering maybe there's something I can do for them. Maybe make a donation to their ward at the hospital or something," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. His eyes were soft, and suddenly he was rolling over through the snow so that they were side by side, and hugging her with all he had.
"You're so GOOD!" He exclaimed breathlessly, clinging fast to her like a limpet "you always want to help people and fix things. I think it's a great idea, and dad's going to be really proud of you so long as you include him," he said, a touch of warning in his voice. She knew better than to not let their father know her plans, seeing how poorly that had gone for them just a few months ago. Everything went more smoothly when they communicated openly with their father. They exchanged nods of agreement and ran inside to ask him how soon they could leave.
None of the four of them had actually ever set foot inside the magical hospital before, as it was technically illegal and had been for the last two centuries. Werewolves that needed medical generally care either relied on private connections in their own communities, made do going to muggle doctors and stealing from veterinary clinics, or simply let nature take its course if they had no better options.
Needless to say from the moment they crept in through the main entrance it felt like they might at any point be turned away, and Narcissa had to quietly remind them all several times that they needed to act as if they belonged there to avoid suspicion. Feeling guilty would make them appear to be so, and they hadn't actually done anything wrong. They were two sitting wizengamot members and two remarkably wealthy young aristocrats, theoretically there was nowhere in polite society that they should be unwelcome. Especially not critically underfunded and underperforming public health institutions.
Said institutions would just have to take a good long think about whether they were more fearful of werewolves or more desperate for generous private donations.
All number of whimsically absurd and horrifically grotesque injuries were on display in the waiting areas they passed.A young boy seemed to be in perfect health except for the fact that his skin was a vivid cobalt blue.A wizard whose neck had somehow been transfigured into a trombone sat perfectly rigidly still to balance his head upright on the mouthpiece of the horn.Two irritable looking older witches conjoined at the hips and covered in feathers were only able to cluck angrily at the frazzled receptionist who was trying to help them fill out their intake paperwork.A teenager had wickedly sharp walrus tusks growing out of his mouth and seemed eager to use them, as he would thrash them back and forth and slam his puffed up chest into any other males that approached him.A little girl sitting by herself sneezed and bolts of lightning shot out of her nose and mouth, frying the chair across from where she'd been sitting.
Healers and medi-witches in eye-searingly garish lime green robes bustled efficiently every which way through the sterile white halls. They passed by a doorway that opened up into an enormous lab where potions techs were hunched over chopping and slicing and dicing, tending to dozens of cauldrons which were brewing tonics and tinctures and droughts in nearly every color imaginable. In unpracticed unison, the werewolves all clapped their hands over their noses at the overwhelming smell of so many potent ingredients mingling. Narcissa tittered at their display, but her own nose was crinkled ever so slightly, giving them the impression that the odors were particularly robust even to a wholly human sense of smell.
They reached a bank of elevators, and pressed the call button in somewhat stunned silence. As the car arrived they filed in, and at the last moment before the doors closed behind them a medi-witch jammed her foot in and they sprung back open. She walked backwards into the elevator, pulling a wheelchair with an elderly wizard sitting in it whose legs and feet beneath his hospital gown had been transfigured into delicate spindly deer legs with cloven hooves. The old wizard was either not steady enough on his feet or the legs themselves weren't strong enough to hold the weight of his heavy human upper body. The medi-witch was closest to the buttons, and she brusquely asked them which floor they planned on getting off on.
She and her unfortunate patient both got off on the second floor, leaving them in a ruminative silence until they reached their destination. "Deer legs, of all things…" Fenrir murmured with a shake of his head as they got off on the fourth floor. He looked down at the children with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes "Did it not by any chance make either of you scamps hungry for a moment, though?" He asked and the twins both puffed their cheeks and snorted to avoid bursting into uproarious and inappropriate laughter. The other two adults were both horror-stricken at the very thought "Ugh, you're absolutely awful, Fen," Remus replied, sounding a bit queasy. Narcissa was even less amused "For Merlin's sake we are in a hospital, Fenrir," she said tartly "one that you are technically prohibited from entering," she reminded him with a sharp look.
The smiles on his and the children's faces fell rather dramatically, and she instantly softened "Which is of course a disgusting law that we will all be working very hard to someday soon overturn," she continued, running her closest hand over Hermione's shoulder affectionately and giving her a little squeeze. She patted Harry on the head as she swept past him towards the medi-witches' station for the floor. It must have been a blessedly slow part of the day, as every seat there was filled with healers and their assistants doing the dull administrative work of filling out forms of some kind.
To the children's great delight, Andromeda and Nymphadora were there waiting for them. Andy greeted her sister first with a hug and a pair of kisses to each cheek while her daughter scurried over to see her young cousins first, tripping on the hem of her trainee robes in her excitement and nearly braining herself on the countertop of the station. One of the other assistants grabbed the back of her robes just in time to keep her from smashing her head in with a reflexive dexterity and total disinterest that suggested it was something he did many times a day. "Thanks a million mate, owe you me very life, I do!" She croaked, rubbing her throat where the neck of her robes had pulled tight and nearly choked her. Her hair shifted through a broad spectrum of colors like an octopus or a cuttlefish's natural camouflage before settling back into her preferred bubblegum pink.
The sisters briefly conferred with one of the other healers on staff at the station, and then Andy gestured for their party to follow her onto the ward. She quickly and efficiently briefed them as they made their way down the hall towards a set of large spell-sealed doors "As you may or may not know I am the head healer for the entire fourth floor, where we specialize in repairing spell damage. Typically that means anything coming out of a wand that's hurt someone, whether that be botched transfigurations or charms gone wrong. Occasionally we do have to break curses that have been cast on people, usually ones that are too difficult for them to figure out themselves or too painful and inconvenient for them to simply wait until they wear off. Our healers are very skilled, and in most cases patients get to leave the same day they came in or the day after," she informed them.
She paused for a moment, as if weighing her words carefully "Your friends parents live in our long-term care ward, for permanent or treatment-resistant damage. As a healer it is difficult to admit aloud, but to put it plainly they are the patients we don't know how to fix. Someday new spell techniques, potions, or even muggle innovations might be developed that could potentially heal them, but until then it is our responsibility to monitor their condition, keep them as comfortable as possible, and ensure that they aren't a danger to themselves or others. Every patient is different, but many of them behave in strange or unpredictable ways, and they are sometimes concerned with or frightened by things we can't see or understand. They might not respond verbally to direct questions or even acknowledge someone speaking to them at all," she explained, her voice tight.
They approached the doors and Andromeda began casting a complex unlocking spell to allow them through it. Harry and Hermione exchanged worried glances "Neville's mum and dad are like that aren't they?" He asked softly to spare his sister having to say it aloud. To their dismay she nodded, her mouth a tight and apologetic line "Frank and Alice are… relatively easy. They're not violent or unstable. In fact they're mostly just quiet, I'm quite certain no one's heard either of them say a single word in the decade that they've been here. It's hard to tell whether or not they really understand what anyone has to say to them, or if there's still much going on internally. They're alive, they eat and sleep, but it's a very simple life they're living here," Andy said, her voice beginning to warble.
She cleared her throat and wiped at the corner of one of her eyes, lowering her wand and opening the door "It's hard not to feel as if they're some of the patients we've failed the worst. I knew them before, and they were just such a vibrant and happy couple. They were good friends with your birth parents, Harry. Actually… if I recall correctly, I believe Alice may have been your godmother, young man," she said with a watery smile, unaware of how impactful that one tiny statement was to him and his small family. It wasn't the right time to address it, but they'd definitely remember and they'd be speaking about it later.
As they passed through the doorway, the air noticeably changed. The three human women seemed unbothered but the werewolves couldn't help but notice the unpleasantly stale smell that permeated the hall and the lounge they were lead into. The walls of the main common area were a dingy greying off-white, and other than sparse holiday decorations they were bare. The furniture was heavily worn and the pillows and blankets on the sofas were lumpy and threadbare, their upholstery was pilling and patchy.
There was a kitchenette that might have been the right size for a motel room, and all of its drawers and cabinets bore padlocks on the exterior hardware keeping them shut tight. The tiny stovetop's knobs had all been removed, and there were covers over the burners. A mini fridge that looked barely big enough to hold a liter of milk had an 'out of order' sign spellotaped onto the front of it. Crammed into the corner nearby was a large dining table that looked to be made of fine study wood, but years of scouring and scourgifying charms had thoroughly stripped whatever varnish or finish it may once have had, leaving its surface top pitted and somewhat splintery. It's chairs didn't match, and were all of varying heights.
The majority of the ward's holiday display was all lumped together in a single corner near the sitting area, like an attention disordered elf had dumped the decorations there and then forgotten to spread them around the whole room. A short and skinny Christmas tree with more bald patches than boughs stood limply by a false window on the wall that displayed an incongruously and unseasonably sunny day. Strands of shiny silver and gold tinsel hung from its branches like an overworked toupee. There were presents beneath the tree wrapped in old newsprint and twine, and when Hermione picked up and shook one out of curiosity, she discovered that it was full of what sounded and smelled like dried beans. Poking at the others she realized with growing anger that they were all just a part of the display, empty presents for decoration and slightly weighed down so they wouldn't be knocked over.
Much like the window, there was a false facade of a fireplace on the other side of the tree, although it too was flat and the image of the Yule log blazing in its hearth was static. Though it didn't have a real mantle that stuck out there were hooks where the picture of one was, upon which hand-knitted stockings of… peculiar quality were hung. The weave of the socks consisted of wide-open stitches as if made by clumsy and unskilled hands, and though the patients' names were sewn on them the embroidered letters were sloppy and occasionally backwards. It was a terribly sorry sight, and it was matched by a single strand of sputtering twinkle lights that was haphazardly spellotaped directly to the wall.
Hermione was rightfully appalled.
While she'd never been particularly spoiled, in her own opinion, she'd also grown up wanting for nothing. Her home was warm and cozy and clean, and most importantly it had character. The things she owned weren't always top-of-the-line, but as the first daughter after decades of only sons, everything she had gotten was new. There had been no hand-me-down clothes or shoes like she knew her Weasley cousins had long endured. If things in her home were old it was because they had been well enough made to last, and were thus well taken care of. Even at the burrow, for all that it was a bit kitschy and cluttered, the things that were old were treated with love. Things didn't just stay broken, they were either mended or taken apart and used to make something entirely new.
The thought of having to live in this place was unbelievably bleak. In a brief moment of hysterical disbelief she wondered if this was what her family's house looked like to the Malfoys.
It took her a few moments of stark contemplation to realize she had entirely overlooked the actual patients in her assessment of the accommodations. In her defense the ones who were out and about blended fairly well into their environment. A man was napping silently on one of the sofas, nearly invisible under a thin ratty blanket that was very close to his exact skin color. Or at least upon first glance she thought he was sleeping, but on further inspection she was startled to discover that his eyes were wide open and following her eerily. She shuddered and backed away, only barely catching herself from tripping over a foot and ankle that stuck out from under the coffee table. Bending down to see what she'd almost stepped on, she saw a petite woman with wild frightened eyes curled up in a tight ball.
Harry, who had been silent until that point, rushed over to help her when he thought she had fallen but then reared back in astonishment at the pungent waves of fear radiating out from the poor woman under the table. Suddenly the sharp ammonia scent of urine joined it. Hermione looked at him desperate for some guidance on how to proceed, and he could only shrug and shake his head helplessly. She cleared her throat, which felt painfully dry "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, Ma'am. You don't have to be afraid, we're just here to visit a friend," she said as softly as she could. She grabbed her brother's hand and they backed away slowly from the poor woman who was now squeezing her eyes tightly shut.
The two children were struck speechless, and their dad must have recognized that. From across the room they could hear him quietly inform Andromeda that the woman had had an accident and wet herself. She tutted sympathetically and said she'd call for an orderly to come help her get calmed down and cleaned up. Tapping the end of her wand like a microphone, she spoke into it and though it was faint through the doors and distance they could hear her voice project itself back at the busy healer's station. With hands firmly gripping their shoulders she led them away from the living area and towards a hallway with many shut doors, each of which had a name and medical brief neatly typed on a placard on the wall next to it. There was a dark fogged-over glass in the upper center of each door, and when she leaned in close to inspect one Hermione realized with a flip of her tummy that she could see inside.
They were two-way mirrors! Like in a police movie she'd seen at the cinema with Matthias.
Andy winced, her hand rising to scratch at the back of her head sheepishly "These are their rooms. And yes, it feels awful but we do have to be able to peek in sometimes to make sure they're safe. For what its worth we do try to give them their privacy as much as we can. Generally speaking, they're allowed to do whatever they like in there. Lots of them have developed behaviors they use to self soothe that others might find disturbing or distracting, some of them shout loudly or rock back and forth. It isn't necessarily harmful but it might frighten the other patients and guests, and so we cast mild compulsions on them to not do so in the public space. There are restrictions on some of the types of possessions they can keep, nothing that could hurt themselves or explode and cause a fire or anything like that, nothing alive except nonmagical and nonpoisonous plants, etcetera etcetera…" she trailed off.
With a tap of her wand on the window Hermione had tried to look through the glass cleared, showing that the inhabitant seemed to be sleeping peacefully on the floor next to his bed. Strangely, he had socks on his hands and his feet were bare. Even stranger, he'd somehow managed to shove his torso through the neck hole of his shirt, getting it as far down as between his rib cage and pelvis. The wide torso hole of his shirt was gaping across his shoulders like the lip of a burlap sack, and only stayed in place because his body was horizontal. Andromeda shook her head with a little huff of laughter "He was cursed to live his life backwards, upside-down, and opposite, the poor fella. As far as we can tell he's perfectly healthy and happy, but everything he does is as silly as a clown," she explained. Hermione thought his situation didn't sound very funny "Can he talk, or do his words come out funny as well?" She asked curiously, worried about the answer.
Andromeda smiled and squeezed her hand affectionately "Good question! We might make a junior healer of you yet. To answer you - yes, he can talk, but his speech is fully backwards when it leaves his mouth. However, because it's in such a consistent and predictable pattern and thankfully not garbled in other ways, we've been able to develop a spell that helps our ears rearrange what we're hearing when we need to communicate with him. He can hear and understand us just fine, and with the spell activated we can understand him as well," she said proudly. Sighing in relief, Hermione leaned into the arm her aunt had wrapped around her, satisfied with the answer she'd gotten.
She looked up at the kind face looking down at her that was so similar to her own "Your job is really hard isn't it? I mean I knew healing wasn't easy, but I didn't realize it was so complicated either. I thought it was just about fixing broken bones and keeping all the blood where it needs to be," she admitted quietly, to which her aunt let out a bark of unexpected laughter. "No, I'm being serious!" she continued "humans are so squishy and fragile, and you get sick so easily. I've seen my big brothers dueling before, and they shake off curses without a second thought, ones that would send anyone else here to be your patient." She mumbled frustratedly, not sure where she was going with her thought but needing to express it.
Andromeda had a hand on the side of her face and a twinkle in her eye "Oh you sweet girl, I know just how serious you're being. Your heart is so big and you care so much. That's why we're here isn't it, you want to do something kind for these people you've never met, just because you know you can help them. I'm very proud of the direction you're leading this family in, my dear," she said, leaning down to nuzzle her nose onto the top of Hermione's head and plant a kiss there. It sent zips of tingly affection down her spine from the curls on her head to the tips of her toes, and she hugged her aunt tightly.
Holding hands, Andy led them all the rest of the way down the hall to a door labeled:
Frank and Alice Longbottom (non-verbal / non-communicative / non-responsive, need assistance eating and bathing and dressing, typically cooperative)
"Let me just take a peek, make sure they're awake," she said, tapping her wand to the glass and clearing it. The room was dwarfed by a freestanding queen sized bed in the middle of it, in which a man and woman were both sitting up and lounging, staring into the distance at nothing in particular. They seemed content, but their eyes were oddly vacant. Frank patted his hands on his lap non-rhythmically and Alice fiddled with something crinkly, and both were fully entertained.
Andromeda put her hand on the door knob to open it, but paused and turned back to Hermione at the last moment "Please don't get your hopes up too much. You have to remember, darling, there's a very good chance that they won't respond at all to anything you have to say to them," she warned, and Hermione nodded, a stubborn set to her chin "I know Aunt Andy, but I have to say it to them anyways. They deserve to hear it even if they can't understand," she insisted. The woman exhaled heavily, then opened the door. When she spoke next her voice was louder clearer and steadier than it had been just a moment before, a mark of her veteran bedside manner "Hello Alice, Frank. You have some visitors! Hermione and her brother Harry are here to talk to you, they're friends of your son Neville."
With hands on their backs she ushered them into the room and then conjured two hard-backed wooden dining chairs for them to sit in on either side of the large bed. It wasn't very subtle, she clearly didn't want them to stay overly long.
Hermione scurried over to Alice's side of the bed and sat, and for a moment or two she stared at the man and woman as she gathered her thoughts about what exactly to say. She knew they were about the same age as Harry's parents and professor Snape, so it was a shock to see the pair of them both looking so withered and deteriorated. Their hair had gone prematurely white and their skin was tight and dry. They looked like they'd been left out in the sun and bleached by it. It made her feel a great many things at once to look at them and think about how they must have been so young and happy once, married and with a baby who was now a young man she loved so dearly.
With a cough she cleared her throat "H-hello Mr and Mrs Longbottom, I'm very pleased to meet you. You don't know me but your son Neville is my best friend and I love him very much. I became the head of my house recently, and I found out that someone related to me did something horrible to you. My cousin Bellatrix-" she stopped herself nearly midword as Alice flinched and whimpered, and began crinkling whatever was in her hands with alarming force. Tears welled in her eyes and she felt young and stupid, as if she were doing more harm than good by being here "Merlin's beard, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have even said her name…"
Putting her head in her hands, Hermione considered leaving before she made things worse somehow. A featherlight weight landing on her arm made her look up, and to her absolute shock she saw that her friend's mother was clearly trying to comfort her. She was still crinkling what looked like a candy wrapper in one hand, but with the other she patted Hermione's arm and then ran her hand through her curly hair, lightly scratching her scalp and caressing her forehead with her thumb. Her head was turned in profile, and from what she could see of her eyes they still seemed unfocused and far away, but there was something going on behind them. There was someone inside still.
She started over more confidently "I'm so sorry my cousin hurt you," she said softly, and nuzzled the hand that was starting to get a bit tangled in her hair. "I'm going to make things right, I promise. I took her magic away so she can't ever hurt anyone else again, and I'm going to make sure you're taken care of for the rest of your lives. Better than this, better than an empty room and plain walls. I'm so sorry it's been like this for you. You deserve so much better," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. She looked back up into Alice's eyes and saw that they were focused on her for the first time, and that though they were still glazed and hazy there was an attention there.
"I love your son so much. We only just met and we're still just kids, but we might get married someday and then you'll be my mum just like you're his. I'm not gonna forget about you in here. Someday we'll bring you home and you'll be able to stay with us there. I promise," she swore, and her magic began to manifest around her in crackling green sparks, solemn and serious. Their father half growled and half sighed her name from behind her in the doorway, the way he did when he was exhaustedly resigned to her acting first and asking permission afterwards. Despite doing her best to ignore everything going on in that direction, she heard her brother making his best attempt to pacify their dad, and she was begrudgingly grateful.
Andromeda had been hovering at the foot of the bed, and she came over to crouch near the chair Hermione was sat in "This really is phenomenal, it's the most alert I've seen either of them in years. She clearly heard what you said and made the connection that you were addressing her. It's hard to say for sure, but she may have even understood some of it. At the very least I think it's safe to say that she likes you a great deal. Let's stop while we're ahead and end today's visit on a success, alright?" She suggested softly, and Hermione nodded agreeably. She had seen what she needed to see and done what she'd come to do.
As she made to stand, Alice's hand in her hair limply untangled from the curled strands and fell back to her lap, where her other hand was still passively crinkling and crunching at the wrapper. Suddenly determined, she hurried to smooth the balled up piece of foil until it was flat, although nothing short of a steam iron could've removed its wrinkles. When it was passably flat, she reached out and tugged on Hermione's hand and pressed it into her palm with a single satisfied nod. Immediately after that her eyes began to drift again, as if she had exhausted whatever attention she had on that singular semi-lucid act.
Feeling nearly overcome with emotion, Hermione leaned in close and pressed a kiss to Alice's cheek "Thank you, I'll treasure it," she whispered.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
As they made their way back out of the ward, Hermione noticed that the sign on the wall near the door had been vandalized. The J and the T had been crossed out and it now read:
"The *anus *hickey Long-Term Spell Damage Ward"
She glanced over at Andromeda who had scoffed and begun charming the naughty graffiti back to normal as if it were something she did on an incredibly regular basis, the same way the intern at the healer's station had caught Dora's robes. She could see a fierce blush had risen to apples of her cheeks, and it didn't take her more than a moment to place the emotions she was smelling coming off of her as a potent mix of both anger and embarrassment. Looking at her father for permission first, she sighed in relief when he reluctantly nodded. He looked incredibly unimpressed by what they'd seen as well, and she knew he had a kind heart under his gruff exterior.
Hermione waited until she was finished, then stepped over to Andromeda and gently grabbed her hands. She looked up at her with what she hoped read as cool confidence "You're not cast out anymore, and your burdens aren't only your own to carry anymore either. The Black family is going to be making an extremely generous charitable contribution to your ward for Yule, aunt Andy. No more pinching and squeezing every last knut and sickle. We're fixing this for you and your patients, no matter how much it costs," she announced, quietly but authoritatively. Grateful deliriously happy tears welled in Andy's eyes and she pulled her into a fierce hug that she returned with all her strength.
In her peripheral vision she saw her father and Remus both wince at her last statement. It was hard to blame them for not being used to spending big money yet. As a matter of fact, she knew her dad was still a bit sore over just how much money she'd given to professor Snape, and that had been pocket change. It had taken her a while to really wrap her own head around the scale of it as well.
The Blacks weren't simply run-of-the-mill millionaires with an M - they were billionaires. With a B. In galleons, not pounds. In terms of muggle money the amount of gold in their vault didn't bear speaking about it was so obscene. When she'd seen her personal net worth written out on parchment for the first time she'd had to remind herself that it was her duty to her future self to continue her formal education. Finishing their schooling was what young people did - you couldn't just drop out to become a teenage philanthropist.
Already her thoughts were racing ahead to what she would say upon meeting with Gornuk to determine an appropriate sum to cover both the renovation cost and the budget needed to properly maintain the hospital ward once it was improved. He was ever so responsible with her vast wealth and would likely caution her against gifting an unnecessarily large amount of money, but she wanted to do something big that woke people up and got them paying attention. It might even be a good idea to have Rowle accompany them to make sure she was doing everything above board.
Locking eyes with Narcissa, she could tell they had similar grand ideas about making a special moment of this at their upcoming Yule celebration. Nothing got the rich and famous opening their wallets and pocketbooks faster than the insinuation that another fat cat might have even deeper pockets than them. Their gala might just turn out to be the season's fundraising event.