Rowena's Quill

With Luna's help, Neville put together a carefully planned package for his visit with parents. It included a quill, plenty of parchment, his copy of The Quibbler, and most important of all, a Runes note which read "I love you, Mum and Dad." Luna penned it for him, but it was his idea.

He'd planned out just how he'd present the note. When nobody was paying attention, he'd slip it to Mum. He could hardly wait to see the look on their faces when they discovered that he knew. Then all he'd need to do was to get them alone and start asking questions. All he'd need to do. It was the hardest part of all.

"Surprise!" cried Gran when they entered the room.

Neither Mum nor Dad looked up.

"They play it to the hilt," thought Neville.

"This visit was all Neville's idea," said Gran cheerily.

"Look, Mum, I brought you The Quibbler!"

"Oh, Neville, don't give that to her. Luna wanted you to have it."

Now here was a complication Neville hadn't counted on. Dumbfounded, he racked his brains for a convenient excuse, but none came to him. Mum was quicker, though. She snatched the magazine right out of his hands, took it into a corner and leafed through its pages wildly. All the while, she held it upside-down.

"Don't tear that, Alice dear, it's a present from Neville's girlfriend."

"Gran!" cried Neville, his face going warm.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, boy. You've chosen very well."

"Sure took me long enough," thought Neville. But this wasn't the time to worry about his next step with Luna. He had to figure out his next step with Mum and Dad. Now that Gran's attention was on him, Mum slowed down her furious page-turning. She was actually taking in the news.

Since Mum and Dad were playing their parts so well, Neville knew he had to act like his usual self, too. It wasn't easy. He had to sit around and act depressed, and for once, the closed ward wasn't depressing him. He was actually excited to be there.

"Good morning, Mrs. Longbottom," said Healer Anselm, entering the room. Gran stood up for him and gave Neville a significant look that he should do the same.

"And how are my charges, today?"

"The same," sighed Gran.

"The same as what, though?" wondered Neville. With the Healer in the room, he seized on the moment. "May I take Mum down to the greenhouse today?"

"Neville! I told you never to ask again."

"But it's been nearly a whole year. I know because last time was my birthday. Mum used to love Herbology, and it must be hard for her to be cooped up in here for so long."

Gran opened her mouth to argue, but Healer Anselm said, "I cannot spare any of the staff today. I'm sorry."

"Oh," said Neville, sitting down. Now he really was depressed.

"May I wheel her around the ward at least? I'll give Dad a turn, too, but I'll need help getting him out of bed."

"You heard what Healer Anselm said. He can't spare the staff."

"But I can call up a few elves to help with Frank."

He snapped six times, and an elf apparated with each snap. "Get that patient out of bed and into a wheelchair," he ordered them.

The elves scrambled to obey. Dad was heavy, even for six of them, but their struggles made for just enough distraction for Neville to drop his note in Mum's lap. Swaying over The Quibbler, her white hair hanging in her face, Mum gave no sign of noticing.

"All done, sir," the largest elf said to Healer Anselm.

"There you are, Neville," said the Healer.

"Thanks," said Neville. He grabbed hold of the wheelchair handles and pushed Dad out of the room. "See you soon," he called to Gran.

The closed ward, being a permanent home for its patients, was one of the larger wards in St. Mungo's, though it saw much less activity. Even still, there were Healers, nurses, patients, and family members all around. Neville pushed Dad past the other patients' rooms. Healer Ryan was giving Gilderoy Lockhart his memory treatment. Fur-faced Agnes Gabbidon had her wireless on, listening to the new series chronicling Dumbledore's life. The broadcast was about his defeat of Grindelwald.

"That sounds good, doesn't it?" said Neville. "Let's go to the day room and see if we can pick it up over there."

Neville pushed Dad into the sunny day room and turned on the wireless. Being a veteran warrior himself, Dad was sure to be interested. But for all the notice Dad gave it, the announcer might as well have been advertising the latest in Super Duper Vanishing Cleanser. He leaned lopsided in his wheelchair, his mouth hanging open.

Neville stood very close to him. "Dad, I know about you."

No reaction.

"Dad, we're alone. You can nod your head or something."

Still no reaction.

Neville was near tears. "Please, Dad."

Nothing.

Neville turned off the wireless. He pushed the wheelchair around the ward a few times. It seemed so unfair. He finally knew the truth about his parents, but he still couldn't get a rise out of them. He wheeled Dad to the nurse's station.

"Could you get some elves to help me please?"

The nurse summoned the elves, and once again, it was there was a big concerted effort getting Dad back into bed. The whole scene made Neville lose hope completely. But he'd said he was going to take both his parents around, and with all the trouble he'd caused getting Dad out of bed, he couldn't back out now.

"Mum's turn," he said with faked enthusiasm.

Just for variety, he pushed Mum in the opposite direction as he'd pushed Dad. He couldn't find anything to say. In silence, he completed one circle around the ward. Halfway through the second, he noticed it. Mum had not one but two issues of The Quibbler on her lap. And more than that, she had her finger on a particular headline: VAMPIRES INVADE ST. MUNGO'S BLOOD BANK. Even without his Spectrespecs, Neville could guess what she meant. Spies were everywhere, even in St. Mungo's.

He pushed Mum toward Lockhart's room. Healer Ryan had finished with him. He was all alone, sitting on his bed. He waved when he saw them coming.

"Would you like an autograph?" he asked, flashing a beatific smile.

For a second, Neville sped up, but then he realized: Lockhart had quill and parchment. It was the perfect opportunity.

"Sure, I'll have an autograph," he said, pushing Mum into the room.

Lockhart, boasting non-stop about his many fans, signed his autograph with a peacock feather quill and proudly handed it to Neville.

"My Mum wants one, too."

Lockhart was thrilled, and while he signed, Neville surreptitiously handed Mum his own quill and parchment. The coast was clear and Mum wrote: Forgive me. I never could have raised you.

"Were you ill a long time?" whispered Neville.

"I'm not ill at all," said Lockhart.

"Could you give me another autograph? For my friend Luna?"

"I can spell that!" cried Lockhart. "L-U-N-A."

"That's right," said Neville.

Lockhart signed and gave his masterpiece to Neville to admire. "Now how's that for joined-up writing?"

"Brilliant," said Neville. He looked over at Mum's parchment.

The first four years I cannot remember at all.

Neville did the math. It could not be a coincidence.

"I was four when you were first injured. Four years later I was eight, and that's when I showed my first signs of magic."

For a moment, their eyes met. Then Mum went back to writing.

But even then, I could not have raised you. It took me a very long time to get to this state. And you have turned out very well, many thanks to your Gran. You make me proud. Please say you forgive me.

Now Neville really was on the verge of tears. "Of course, I do. But what about Dad?"

A nurse walked over to them. Mum bent over the parchment in her lap and began crumpling it up, looking to all the world the way she always did - like a helpless, hopeless closed ward patient.

The way he was feeling, Neville didn't know how he could pull off his own role. But his awkwardness worked in his favor. The nurse misinterpreted him completely.

"Don't tell me you got yourself stuck over here?"

"Um . . . yeah. And I didn't really know how I could leave."

"Just walk away. It's not rude. He won't remember that you did it."

Neville wheeled Mum out of the room.

"See? Easy as pie," said the nurse, walking in step with him. "Say, how did your Mum get that quill?"

Mum put the quill in her mouth.

"It's mine," he said, hastily taking it back. "I thought seeing someone else use a quill might remind . . . well, you know . . ."

The nurse gave him a sympathetic pat on the arm. "Why don't you take your Mum back to her room now? You've given her a lovely outing."

What could Neville do but listen? He actually had to pretend to be relieved by the suggestion. So he thanked the nurse and pushed Mum back to her room. She hadn't even gotten a chance to answer about Dad, the most burning question on his mind.

Back in the room, Mum dropped the crumpled parchment into his hands, and he pocketed it. Gran rolled her eyes. Then Mum did something Neville had never seen. She walked over to Dad's bed, leaned over him, and in her soundless way, began to cry. She was answering his question.

"Oh, Alice, don't you start. It always sets me off when you do," said Gran. She pulled out her handkerchief.

Neville stood staring at them. "Mum cries over Dad sometimes?"

"You've never seen us? I suppose you've been off at school whenever we've done it." Gran dabbed at her eyes, but the handkerchief wasn't helping. "Well, trot along to your greenhouse, boy. I'm sure you don't fancy being around a pair of weeping women."

Neville didn't know whether he should obey her or not.

"Go on!"

Neville turned and ran. He did not stop until he was safely off the ward and alone in a stairwell. He was crying, too. So Mum was all right, but Dad was still ill - incurably ill. But why was he crying about it? What had changed really? At least now, he knew he had one healthy parent. He ought to be rejoicing, but he could not. Even if Mum was well, she would live the rest of her life on the closed ward. And Neville knew it wasn't just because she was hiding from the Death Eaters. She was staying to be with Dad.

Neville dried his eyes and walked down to the greenhouse. It always made him feel better, and he certainly needed to wind down now.

"Neville, how nice to see you!" said Mr. Klover as he went in.

Neville tried to greet him with equal cheer, but he knew he failed when Mr. Klover said, "Hard visit with your parents?"

"Umm . . ."

"Neville, though I will soon be your employer, I hope we will always remain friends."

Neville looked up at him. Such a good-hearted man. At least this part of his future was certain and bright. "Mum and Gran were crying over Dad together. I've never seen them do it, but Gran says it happens all the time."

"Yes, I imagine it would," said Mr. Klover. "It's a terrible circumstance."

"Hey there, Neville!" called Jasmine, seemingly oblivious to his mood. "How's the phoscolia? Did you get it to that perfect shade of red?"

The phoscolia! He hadn't thought of his flowers in weeks, what with his stay in the hospital wing, the news of Dumbledore's death, and now, his discovery about Mum. Both plants were still in Hogwarts greenhouse. Professor McGonagall made sure everything in his room got packed, but only Professor Sprout knew about the phoscolia.

"Let me guess," said Jasmine. "The petals turned yellow, not red, but you don't care because you've fallen head over heels with a blonde." She laughed and elbowed Mr. Klover. "Look at him blush! I'm right!" She walked away chortling.

This was getting to be too emotional a day for Neville. "Mr. Klover, normally I wouldn't ask, but could you spare a gurdyroot?"

"Accio gurdyroot!" said Mr. Klover pleasantly.

Neville caught it mid-air. He felt it take action immediately. "Wow. How'd you get it so strong?"

"The trick is in the soil." And he launched into a long, detailed, very welcome discussion which made Neville feel completely in his own element. But after a while, he knew Gran was waiting for him and he had to get back upstairs. He thanked Mr. Klover for everything - the gurdyroot, the Herbology tips, but mostly, for his time.

"May I give the root to my Mum?" he asked. "That way, it really will have gone for a St. Mungo's patient."

"Scrupulously honest," said Mr. Klover. "I like that in my employees. And I admire it even more in my friends."

They shook hands, and Neville walked back up to the closed ward. All was quiet in Mum and Dad's room once again.

"Take back your magazine, Neville," said Gran. "We're going home now."

The two copies of The Quibbler were lying on Mum's bed. He picked up the older issue, the one he hadn't read yet. Gran would never know the difference. In its place, he left the gurdyroot.

At home that night, Neville wrote two letters. He dashed off the first one quickly - a simple request that Professor Sprout send him the two phoscolia plants. The second was harder, personally and otherwise. Owls were being intercepted all the time. Without knowledge of Runes code, he'd just have to rely on his own circumspection.

Dear Luna,

I visited Mum and Dad today. It was tough, but good. I was 50% right, but without you, I'd still be at zero. You've changed my whole life.

Now that you've given me a present, I'd like to give you something. I don't think my present can be quite as big or special, but it's something I've been working on for a while, and there's nobody else in the world I would ever give them to.

I can hardly wait to see you at the party.

He hesitated over the closing. Should he write it? He thought he felt it. But no, he didn't dare. He signed the letter, plain and simple. Neville.