Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

Christmas Week, 1987

“How’s my son?” asks Frank, breaking off his worried pacing to stride back to the Healers stepping out of Neville’s room.

He ignores Andromeda Tonks and instead focuses on her boss, Charles Galloway. It is only because Galloway has been the family Healer for years, Frank tells himself. It has nothing to do with Andromeda being the spitting image of the witch who had attacked his family and hurt his wife beyond repair.

Galloway is a tall bald sallow man with piercing blue eyes, a long nose, and thin lips. He purses those lips thoughtfully. “Young Neville is shaken, but his magic protected him well from the fall.”

Frank feels his knees turn to water with the reassurance. He covers his face with his hands momentarily, collecting himself.

Down the hallway, Alastor Moody clears his throat. “Any chance I can speak to the lad?”

It is Andromeda who replies. “We’ve given him a sedative, Alastor. He’ll sleep through until morning.”

“You don’t need to speak to Neville,” Frank says, lowering his hands. “My mother will consent to giving you a memory of the incident.” His breath catches in his throat as the memory of her panicked call through to his Wizengamot office returns full force to the front of his mind.

“Would you like me to stop in on the younger Lady Longbottom while we’re here?” Galloway asks, drawing Frank’s attention back to the small gathering in the corridor outside of Neville’s suite of rooms.

Frank presses his lips together and nods. “Thank you, Healer Galloway. I would appreciate that.”

Galloway excuses himself quietly. He wanders away in the direction of the East wing which is where Alice is situated.

Frank watches him go. He does not expect any change. Alice has been in a state of catatonia since the awful night the Lestranges and Barty Crouch Junior had attacked. He’s employed Healer after Healer, tried treatment after treatment, but the year before he’d finally accepted that there was nothing more to be done when Saint Mungo’s had declared that they had done everything they could for her.

He’d brought her home after that, hoping maybe bringing her back to Longbottom Reach which was steeped in the generations of the Longbottom magic would somehow help her.

He knows deep down that Alice would hate her existence; trapped in her body, her mind a chaotic storm. He’d overheard one Healer whisper to another that she’d be better off dead, and part of him regretfully and in agony thinks that is true. But the rest of him cannot help but hope that his Alice will one day recover somehow. She’d always been a fighter. He’s always loved that about her.

He misses her like crazy.

He misses her more in this moment than other since the Lestranges’ attack.

His Uncle had dropped Neville off a balcony. A balcony! He’d tried to kill Frank’s son!

Moody clasps Frank’s shoulder. “Algernon is in custody, Frank. He’s going to be charged with attempted murder since he’s admitted that he thought Neville was a squib and wouldn’t survive it.”

Frank rubs a hand over his face. He feels completely at a loss for why anyone thinks Neville is a squib. Neville has a gift for herbology; he spends most of his time outside with the plants and they’re blooming. Some of Frank’s favourite memory snippets of the past few years is finding odd moments to join his son in the garden and tend to the plants together in peaceful silence.

This is his fault, he muses. He’s pretty much left the raising of his son to his mother. Augusta Longbottom is stern, but fair and he’d trusted her with his heir. Given everything he’s beginning to remember she’d babbled to him when he’d stepped through after her Floo call, it had clearly been a mistake.

“I want him charged to the fullest extent of the law,” Frank says stiffly to Moody.

Moody nods. “I should talk with your mother.”

“Perhaps I should come with you, Alastor,” Andromeda says.

Frank stiffens a touch as he realises that the Healer left Andromeda behind. But then why wouldn’t he, Frank sighs inwardly. As far as Frank knows she has never treated Alice because of the conflict of interest.

“The Dowager Lady Longbottom had quite a shock with the incident herself,” Andromeda continues, her grey eyes flitting to Frank.

Frank nods at her and forces the words out. “Thank you, that would be appreciated.”

He turns and leads the way back down the corridor, back down the stairs, through the warren that is the Reach until they reach the front parlour which his mother has claimed as her own.

There is an Auror stood by the open door in a guard position; a dark man not that much older than Frank with his black hair braided tightly to his skull in lines which form some kind of pattern.

Frank ignores him and strides in, Andromeda and Moody following behind him.

His mother sits in her usual chair by the fireplace. His father’s portrait hangs above the mantel, but Gerald Longbottom’s painted features are sleeping.

For the first time in a long time, Frank notices how old his mother looks. There are grey streaks in her coiffed hair, lines traverse her impeccably made-up face, and there is an air of fragility about her that he cannot ever recall seeing before.

She looks exhausted.

Something about her slows Frank’s step until he’s stopped half a room away from her.

He’s suddenly incredibly grateful that Andromeda is with him as she moves forward to see to his mother.

He hears Moody giving instructions to the Auror before he too steps inside the room. The sound of the door closing echoes through the quiet space.

Moody stops beside Frank. They wait as Andromeda and his mother speak in low tones. He isn’t too surprised when his mother waves off Andromeda and motions for them to move closer, pushing herself off the chair to stand.

Regardless of the situation, her pale grey day robes are immaculate, Frank notices, as he approaches.

“How is Neville?” asks his mother briskly. Her right hand tightly holds an embroidered handkerchief.

“Resting,” Frank says shortly.

“His magic protected him,” Andromeda adds, stepping back.

“His magic,” his mother sinks back into the chair, her eyes closing.

Frank’s anger resurges at the half-disbelieving tone of her voice. He goes to speak but Moody clears his throat before he can.

“Augusta,” Moody says almost gently, “Algernon has confessed that he dropped Neville from the balcony because he thought he was a squib.”

His mother flinches.

“I’d still like to get your thoughts on what happened today,” Moody says, “and a copy of the memory if you will allow it.”

Frank bristles because if his mother doesn’t agree…

His mother sighs and nods, turning to look at Moody. Her gaze flickers briefly back to Frank. He thinks shame shoots over her features before she smooths them back into the mask of a lady of high society.

“Start with this morning,” Moody coaxes. “How do you usually start the day?”

His mother’s hands twist the handkerchief into a ball. “Frank, Neville and I had breakfast in the dining room. Frank left for his Wizengamot office; he works from there mostly. Neville had lessons immediately after breakfast in the library.”

Frank frowns. It was Christmas week. Surely his mother wasn’t making Neville endure lessons every day? It was a holiday!

He rubs his forehead, aware that the nagging warning of a headache is threatening to fully bloom.

“It was eleven,” his mother continues, “Bitsy, our house elf, informed me Algernon had arrived.” She looks over to Moody. “She said he’d gone straight up to the library. I…”

Frank frowns. Why wasn’t she in the library with Neville if he was doing lessons?

His mother takes a shaky breath, briefly closing her eyes again. “I had tea with Lucretia yesterday and her mother joined us. Lady Black warned me that she’d had a vision of Algernon dropping Neville from a great height.” She shakes her head and glances towards Frank. “I thought it was a load of nonsense. I’ve never put stock in visions and premonitions. You know that.”

“I know,” Frank confirms gruffly.

His mother is a no-nonsense witch. Back at the end of the war, she had dismissed the idea of the prophecy as idiotic waffle especially given its source. She had argued against them going under the Fidelius.

“But when Bitsy told me Algernon had gone straight to Neville…” his mother grimaces. “He usually comes to greet me first so…I hurried to them. I entered the library and heard their voices from the balcony and…Algernon was floating Neville high above the ground. Neville was crying, begging him to put him down, and Algernon…” she made a sweeping motion, “he just shifted him over the railing and let go!”

Frank presses his lips together.

“He said that it was for the boy’s own good,” his mother clasps her handkerchief to her bosom. “I…I stunned Algernon and ran to the railing…” she breathes in deeply, “thankfully Neville was alright, but…” she takes another breath. “I immediately Flooed for Frank.”

“Algernon said he did it because he thought Neville was a squib,” Moody says again, “where did he get that idea from?”

Frank looks expectantly at his mother when she remains silent.

She sighs. “Until today Neville hasn’t had a bout of accidental magic since the night of the Reach was attacked,” she replies. “Healer Galloway reported at the time that Neville’s magic might have been repressed by his trauma and Albus said…”

“Albus?” Moody interrupts her brusquely. “As in Dumbledore?”

“Yes,” his mother answers with a blush appearing on her pale cheeks. “I asked him for a second opinion. He said that as Fate had chosen the Potter boy, Neville’s magic might not be needed; that it wasn’t unheard of for the other possibility in a prophecy to go dormant.”

“Prophecy?” asks Moody sharply.

His mother rightly looks shamefaced as she realises that she’s spoken about something which was meant to be kept confidential. She looks over to Frank beseechingly.

“Supposedly Trelawney gave Dumbledore a prophecy,” Frank says tersely. “The details don’t matter but either Harry or Neville was said to meet the conditions.”

“That’s why you and the Potters both went under the Fidelius,” Andromeda says softly.

Frank nods. “Since You-Know-Who went after the Potters theoretically Harry was the one the prophecy referenced.” He waves his hand. “If you believe in that kind of thing.”

“Who knows about this prophecy?” Moody asks briskly.

“Albus told Alice and I at the same time as James and Lily,” Franks thinks back. He shakes his head. “We told my mother because she was our Secret Keeper. I always figured James told Sirius as Harry’s godfather and the other Secret Keeper, but since Pettigrew was actually the Secret Keeper, I don’t know if he does know or not.”

He glances over to Andromeda, but her expression gives nothing away.

She gives a shrug. “If Sirius knows he’s never mentioned it to me.”

“You’re in contact with Black?” barks Moody.

Andromeda looks at Moody with a hard even stare which makes the old Auror shuffle a touch.

“I’m sure it doesn’t matter if Andromeda is in contact with Sirius or not!” Frank proclaims, irritated.

He ignores the twinge of guilt that he’s lost contact with Sirius himself. He flushes as he remembers there has always been a gift for Neville at his birthday and at Christmas. There’s one sitting under the tree in the drawing room right at that moment. Yet Frank only vaguely remembers a letter saying Sirius was going abroad and a news article about his Mastery, but other than that he has no idea what Sirius is even doing these days.

“He was cleared of everything back in the day. I told you back then he fought beside me during the attack,” Frank continues firmly. If Sirius hadn’t been with them, he’s certain that they all wouldn’t have survived it.

Moody grunts.  

“I rather think we’re getting away from the point, are we not?” Franks continues. “Your question was about why Algernon thought Neville was a squib.” He turns back to his mother. “You said you thought Neville’s magic was going dormant because of the trauma of the attack and prophecy nonsense from Dumbledore. Why didn’t you ever tell me?!”

His mother looks at him directly. “Because you had enough on your plate with Alice, Frank, and there was nothing that could be done.”

“You still should have told me!” Frank says. “He’s my son!”

His mother is silent again at that. He feels her judgement regardless; the words she doesn’t say.

Frank hasn’t exactly been a doting father in the years since the attack. The Wizengamot takes up a lot of his time, as do the estates. He works long hours and it is a rare night when he is back at the Reach before Neville is in bed. He’s managed to spend a little bit more time with his son since Alice has been home, but he knows he has all but left Neville to his mother, and the chickens are definitely coming home to roost.

Frank whirls away and paces to the windows. He stares out at the front lawn.

“How did Algernon come to be aware of Neville’s state?” Moody doggedly follows up.

“I confided in him,” his mother admits. “I needed to talk to someone and…I thought Algernon was safe. He’s always been very supportive. He and Felicity were just wonderful after Gerald died. He stepped in after the attack too, and he’s helped Frank with the estates. He or Felicity usually come over for lunch once a week.”

“As Gerald’s younger brother, he’d be in line for the Lordship if Neville was a squib and Frank died, right?” Moody asks bluntly.

“Yes,” his mother replies, a touch faintly. “But I never got the sense that he was…he’s never given any impression that…” she trails away.

“I’m guessing you’re questioning some things you might have seen or heard now,” Moody says.

“I thought it was just concern,” his mother says quietly. “He’s said a few things over the years about Neville’s shyness not being a good quality for an heir or complained about how wrapped up Frank is with Alice instead of moving on. He just…he came over last week and all he talked about was how little Albert is already starting to show magic.”

“Albert?” asks Moody.

“Jeremy and Sarah Asquith had a baby son back in May,” Andromeda says. “Albert is Algernon’s first grandson. If the main Longbottom line had no heir, Albert would inherit after Frank and Algernon.”

Frank rubs a hand over his face. He hasn’t met his cousin Sarah’s new baby. He remembers his mother saying that they’d sent a card and present.

“I’ll take that memory now, Augusta,” Moody says with a heavy sigh.

Frank stares out of the window blindly. How much has he missed while he’s been wrapped up in Alice and, if not in Alice, hiding from his family behind his Wizengamot duties?

Moody walks up to stand next to him again. “I suggest you update the wards and block the rest of your family from entry until we get to the bottom of who knew what.”

Frank nods because it is sensible advice.

“I’ll be in touch,” Moody says.

Frank turns back to his mother as Moody leaves only to find her being helped from her chair by Andromeda.

“I’m just going to see your mother upstairs to rest,” Andromeda says briskly.

His mother’s grey gaze meets Frank’s apologetically. “I am sorry, Frank.”

He sucks in a breath and nods sharply. “We’ll talk more later. Just rest up for now, Mother.”

She nods slowly.

He watches as Andromeda steers her out of the door and they disappear from view. He paces to the hearth and stares up at the sleeping portrait of his father. No matter how many times Frank has tried to wake him since his death, his father sleeps on. The artist had said that it sometimes happens that a portrait won’t wake at all despite the magic.

Frank leaves the parlour behind. He heads to his wife’s suite and meets Galloway just as he steps through the outer door.

“Ah, there you are!” Galloway says. “She was a little agitated. Perhaps she caught the vibration of the accidental magic Neville did to save himself. I’ve given her a soother and helped Nurse Andrews get her back to bed.” He places his green Healer cap back on his head. “Has Healer Tonks already gone back?”

“She’s with my mother,” Frank explains. “Thank you for looking in on Alice.”

“If you can let Healer Tonks know I’ll see her back at the hospital,” Galloway tugs his cap brim and heads away to the Floo room.

Frank steps inside the suite.

The large outer room is Alice’s bedroom, decorated in her favourite colours with pictures of her life placed around the room. The inner bedroom is a treatment and exercise room for Alice along with the ensuite bathroom which had been modified to accommodate her needs. Frank rarely visits that space preferring the bright and airy outer room. He’s sometimes slept on the comfortable sofa along the far wall.

She’s lying asleep in the large medical bed which faces the French doors to the upper terrace.

Nurse Andrews, a freckled rotund woman of his mother’s age, gets up from the wingback chair in the reading nook to the left. She gives a nod, gathering up her knitting, and disappears to her own room behind a side door.

He sits on the bed and picks up Alice’s hand, clasping it tightly with both of his. He raises it to his bowed head and wonders how he tells her what has happened, how he has so badly failed their son.

And Merlin, Harry Potter.

Who knows what has happened to James’ little boy? Deep down Frank had been a little miffed when James explained that Sirius would be godfather even though Alice was to be Harry’s godmother. He remembers Alice’s fierce passion about finding where Dumbledore had stashed Harry after James’ and Lily’s deaths; she’d been so determined in her want to do right by her godson. What would she think of Frank not really thinking about Harry’s situation until now with the mention of Sirius?

What would she think of the mess he’s made with their own son? She’d likely tear a strip off Frank for his neglect and he’d deserve it.

Bitsy pops in beside him. “Healer Tonks be ready to leave, Master Frank. She is waiting in the Floo room.”

Frank sighs and raises his head to nod at the elf. “Tell her I’ll be with her in a moment.”

He waits until Bitsy pops out before he kisses the back of Alice’s hand and lays it back down with careful reverence.

“I’m going to make this right,” Frank tells Alice quietly. “I’m going to be a better father, a better friend. I’ll find out what’s happened to Harry.”

He bows his head again. He’s going to find out what’s happened to Neville first though. What exactly has his mother been teaching Neville? How has she been treating him if she’s thought Neville is a squib this whole time?

He gets to his feet and leans down to place a gentle kiss on Alice’s pale forehead before he leaves the room.

Andromeda is waiting patiently by the Floo when he enters the room. She offers him a tired smile. “I’ve given your mother a soother. She’s pretty shaken up.”

Frank nods.

“How are you, Frank?” Andromeda says quietly.

Frank sighs as he meets her direct gaze. “Realising that I’ve been an awful parent.” He sweeps a hand through his light brown hair, the same shade as his son’s. He changes the subject as her look melts into more sympathy than he can bear. “And an awful friend. Is Sirius…how is he?”

Andromeda’s expression smoothes away to the mask of a pureblood lady. She’s clearly guarding her cousin and Frank cannot blame her.

“If you are in contact with him,” Frank says awkwardly, “please can you pass the message that I’d be pleased to hear from him. I know I’ve been a terrible friend, but it would mean a lot to see him again.”

Maybe Sirius would still be interested in finding out what had happened to Harry, Frank muses. They could search for the little lad together. Not to mention it would be good to reintroduce Uncle Sirius to Neville. Perhaps his old friend could help Frank find his way with his son.

“I’ll let him know,” Andromeda says quietly.

Frank barely controls his eyebrows shooting up at the admission she is in contact with Sirius. But then, why shouldn’t she admit it, Frank remonstrates with himself. Whatever Moody and Dumbledore think, Sirius is innocent and a good man.

“Thank you,” he manages. “And for taking care of my mother and Neville.”

Andromeda nods, placing her Healer’s cap on her head. “Try to be kind to yourself, Frank. You’ve had a lot to deal with and you should have been able to trust your Uncle not to try to murder your son.”

Frank grimaces. “I still can’t believe he did it!”

“I’m sure Moody will get to the bottom of why,” Andromeda murmurs, “but the prejudice against squibs is still rife unfortunately. I’m just pleased to see it isn’t being swept under the rug.”

Frank doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to admit that his mother tried to argue against bringing in the Aurors. He wants to think she just wasn’t thinking in her panic, but…it is yet something else to pick up with her.

Andromeda offers him another sympathetic smile, throws a pinch of powder into the flames, and a moment later, with a shout of her destination echoing in the room, is gone.

Frank waits a beat before he walks over to the mantle and places his hand on the centre stone. It only takes a single thought to lockdown the Floo and the wards.

He wanders from the Floo room and when he looks up again, he finds himself outside of his son’s door.

He’s barely been in Neville’s rooms, he realises with another rush of guilt as he enters. He stops abruptly as he takes a good look at the décor.

They look…they look like they’ve always looked ever since he was a boy. Why hasn’t he ever noticed?

Hadn’t Neville wanted to change things? Or maybe his mother just hadn’t even thought to offer a change as an option.

The walls are the same red and gold patterned wallpaper Frank had chosen as a teenager. The rugs are the same ones he’d picked out, the furniture the pieces he had chosen. His trophies still sit on a shelf above the desk.

He takes a moment to settle the anger at his mother which rushes through him.

It was his responsibility, Frank tells himself grimly. Neville is his son. He should have paid attention sooner to how his boy was being raised, how his son’s room lacked the care of a loving parent.

He walks through the open door to the bedroom.

Neville is curled up in a ball asleep in the vast bed. His round face looks so much like Alice that Frank feels his heart ache deep in his chest. He pulls up a chair and sits down.

“I’m sorry, Neville. I haven’t…I haven’t been the best Dad, but I’m paying attention now,” Frank tells his son quietly. “Things are going to be different, I promise you.”

His hand curls around his son’s. His eyes widen as Neville’s fingers shift, grasping his own tightly. The unconscious innocent trust has Frank’s breath catching in his chest. He doesn’t deserve that trust, not yet, Frank thinks, blinking back the stinging urge to cry, but he will. He will.

fin.

Next story: A Promise of a Second Chance

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