Memories

Frank and Alice Longbottom sat at in miserable silence, two cups of cold coffee untouched on the kitchen table before them.

Alice looked over at baby Neville, contentedly eating his porridge in his infant seat. In her mother’s heart, she was thankful that Neville hadn’t been the boy in the prophecy. She couldn’t have borne it, for him to have a burden like that at such a young age. Though, if the situation was reversed, she wouldn’t be around to know about it, she supposed. Lily Potter would not be there to watch her son confront He Who Must Not Be Named a second time.

But, though she didn’t wish to change places with the Potters, it was still very painful to think that they were both gone, and that Harry was . . . No, she wasn’t supposed to think about where Harry was. It was supposed to be a secret, no one was supposed to know. Even if it were really true that He Whose Name Was Not Spoken was dead and gone, there were still Death Eaters about who would love to find the boy, and that must not happen.

Alice picked up a piece of toast and gave it a half-hearted nibble. “Frank, eat something. You haven’t eaten a thing since the Potters’ funeral yesterday.”

Frank shook his head. “I’m going to Apparate in to work early,” he said, getting to his feet. “I’m working on tracking down the Lestranges. It’s only a matter of time before we catch them. I’ll sleep easier after that.”

“I’ll leave Neville with your Mum and join you in about an hour,” said Alice, putting the mostly uneaten piece of toast back on her plate. She stood up and kissed her husband good-bye, and with a pop Frank Apparated.

Alice stood looking down at Neville. He was still busily eating the last of his porridge. He was such a good boy. She shuddered to think what the Potter boy might remember, seeing his parents killed right in front of him like that. She wondered if that might be the worst thing for the poor boy, if it might have been better if he never remembered . . .

She knew the next few months might be pretty bad. Many of the Death Eaters were switching sides, or at least pretending to, but it was still very dangerous. They didn’t know whom to trust, and the fact that the Potters had been betrayed by such a close friend made it clear it was best not to trust anyone. The fear kept her up at night; her biggest fears were for Neville. She wanted him to grow up in a better time, a less fearful time. She wished he didn’t have to know about the evil that was still so much a part of their lives.

What if she put a spell on him? Just until he was a bit older. A memory spell, so he wouldn’t remember if something bad happened . . . She would take it off again when he got a year or so older. They would have most of the Death Eaters caught by then, surely. The spell would make it harder to Neville to remember things, so any traumatic memories would just sort of fall away, without leaving any permanent effect on the young boy. Yes, it was rather drastic, but it would protect him . . .

Alice looked down at him again. She’d been distracted with her thoughts and hadn’t realised that Neville had picked up a piece of Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum from the bowl on the table. The bowl was left over from Halloween — Frank loved to hand it out to the Muggle children who came trick-or-treating. But of course Neville was much too young for gum, he could choke on it. She snatched it away from him quickly.

Taking a deep breath, Alice took out her wand and quickly performed the spell without taking the time to worry about it any more. Then she picked Neville up and carried him out of the house and down the street to Frank’s mother’s house. Neville looked a bit alarmed when they reached Mrs. Longbottom’s home, as if he’d never been there before. But Alice was anxious to get to the Ministry, to help Frank track down the dangerous Death Eaters. Kissing Neville on the head, she said good-bye to him and to Mrs. Longbottom and went back home to get ready for work.

Walking up the path to the back door that entered into the Longbottoms’ small kitchen, she was surprised to see that the door was ajar. She felt sure she’d closed it on her way out, but she was preoccupied and didn’t stop to think what it might mean. She’d just stepped into the kitchen when she realised she wasn’t alone in the house. “Impedimenta!” yelled a voice, and Alice couldn’t move. Two Death Eaters stood across the room from her. One of them was Bellatrix Lestrange. She pointed her wand at Alice and ropes shot out of its end, tying Alice’s hands and feet securely. “Have a seat, Mrs. Longbottom,” said the Lestrange woman, reaching out and pushing her awkwardly into the nearest chair. The other Death Eater was busy rooting through the bowl of sweets and gum. “Put that down, Barty, and go help look for Mr. Longbottom.”

“Frank’s at the Ministry, you won’t be able to get to him there!” said Alice in a voice she hoped sounded braver than she felt.

“Then we’ll just have to get him to come home, won’t we?” the woman Death Eater said in a horrible voice. “Rodolpho! Rabastan!”

Two more Death Eaters entered from the front of the house. They sneered at Alice and one of them grabbed the bowl from Barty.

“Longbottom’s at the Ministry. We need to encourage the little woman here to ask him to come home at once,” said Bellatrix in a shrill voice.

The oldest Death Eater pointed his wand at Alice and said, “Imperio!” Alice fought with all her will, but Rabastan Lestrange was gifted with the Imperius curse. The ropes dropped to the floor and Alice turned toward the fireplace, threw a handful of Floo powder into it, and stuck her head inside. In a few moments, she was back in her chair and Frank Longbottom was stepping out of the fire.

“Petrificus Totalis!” The Death Eaters were ready for him and he was paralysed before he could make a move to save Alice or himself. The ropes were replaced around Alice’s wrists and ankles, tying her securely to her chair. Frank lay on the floor, conscious but unable to move.

Bellatrix moved to stand over him. “We need to know some things, Mr. Longbottom, and you’re going to tell us what we want to know. We have three questions. Answer them and we will go away quietly. We know there was a prophecy about a young boy and the Dark Lord -- what was it? We want to know every word! And, where is the Dark Lord? We think you know what happened to him -- you were one of the first to arrive in Godric’s Hollow that night. And, last but not least, where is Harry Potter?”

She pointed her wand at Frank. He was able to move, but with another wave of her wand his hands and feet were bound tightly with ropes.

“I don’t know where the Dark Lord is. He’s your Master. If you can’t find him, why should I be expected to know where he is?” Frank growled.

“You lie! Crucio!” Bellatrix shrieked. Frank’s legs and arms writhed in pain.

“You can — curse me — all day long — but you — can’t make me — tell you — something I — don’t know!” Frank panted. Bellatrix raised her wand and Frank’s body relaxed. She glanced at Alice.

“Accio little wifey!” said Bellatrix with a cruel giggle. Alice’s chair slid across the floor until she was sitting just a few feet from where Frank lay. Frank could now see her clearly. “Maybe you’ll tell us to spare the little wife the same fate! Crucio!” she said, pointing her wand at Alice.

“No — Frank — don’t — tell — them — anything!” Alice yelled, between gasps of pain.

“Ha! So you do know!” said Bellatric gleefully.

“We have no idea where the Dark Lord is! I’ve already told you!” bellowed Frank.

“Then tell us about the prophecy!” said Bellatrix, keeping her wand pointed at Alice. Tears streamed down Alice’s face and she fought to keep from screaming.

“Okay, okay, stop that and I’ll tell you!” said Frank, moaning.

Bellatrix raised her wand. “Speak!” she commanded.

“You realise, we didn’t hear the prophecy ourselves. We don’t know the exact words. We just know that it said that a boy would be born at the end of July who would defeat the Dark Lord.”

“Argh! We know that much, you fools! We want to know the rest! Tell me now!” Bellatrix shrieked, pointing her wand at Frank.

“That’s all I know.”

“Crucio!

Frank lay moaning on the ground, but refused to say more.

“Imperio!” said Rabastan, pointing his wand at Alice. “Tell us the entire prophecy!”

Alice looked at Frank. Frank shook his head and gave her a loving look, trying to will some of his strength into her. She nodded, taking strength from him. She must not tell, it could result in the death of Harry Potter if they knew. Her face turned red. The muscles in her back, neck and arms went rigid from the effort of fighting the curse. Finally, she went limp, her eyes staring blankly, spittle dripping down her face. Frank cried out her name in an anguished voice and looked away.

Rabastan raised his wand. “Take her out of the room,” he commanded the other Death Eaters. The two other men hurriedly picked up Alice, still tied to the chair, and carried her into the front room. Rabastan bent over Frank. “Tell us where the Potter boy is! Crucio!”

Frank’s body bent almost double from the pain, but he refused to answer.

“We’ll try this again! Tell me now, where is the Potter boy being hidden? And come to think of it, where is your own little boy? We’d like to see them both! Imperio!”

Frank’s body grew rigid as he fought to keep from revealing the truth. Finally, with his last big of strength, he gasped, “The Ministry — we’re keeping them — at the Ministry — for their protection!” The effort was too much, however; the curse had sought the truth and telling a lie was more difficult, more dangerous, than simply resisting the curse by saying nothing. Frank’s body went limp, his eyes staring. A bit of blood trickled from his nose.

Furious, Rabastan kicked one of the kitchen chairs across the room. He turned the table over. The other two Death Eaters scurried back into the room to see what the noise was about, and immediately dropped to their knees to gather up the sweets that had been spilled from the bowl. No one was looking toward the fireplace when Alastar Moody stepped from the fire.

“Impedimenta!” Moody bellowed. Bellatrix became still and fell over. “Petrificus Totalis!” Rabastan fell to the floor. Two other Aurors stepped from the fireplace, shouting curses at the other Death Eaters. In a short time, all four Death Eaters had been bound with magic rope and were lying in the front room, awaiting transport to the Wizarding criminal system for trial.

Moody knelt on the floor in the kitchen, peering into Alice’s unseeing eyes. “Alice! Can you hear me?” Alice continued to stare, making no sign that she heard. Shaking his head sadly, Moody turned toward Frank.

“Frank! Come on, Frank! We caught them, all four of them! Let’s you and I go have a couple of butterbeers, to celebrate!” Frank continued to stare at the ceiling.

Moody moved to the fireplace, took some Floo powder and was soon communicating with the emergency department at St. Mungo’s, arranging for Healers to come and take the Longbottoms there for treatment. Then, removing his head from the fire, he stood up and looked around. He went into the front room, where the other two Aurors were guarding the Death Eaters.

“Have you seen the boy?” he asked the Aurors gruffly. “The Longbottom boy. Where is he?”

“We haven’t seen him,” one of the Aurors replied. “I searched all of the rooms earlier, even looked under the beds and in the closets. No one else is here.”

As they stood there, they heard a voice calling from the kitchen. “Alice! Frank!” Going back to the kitchen, Moody saw Frank’s mother standing in the door that led in from the garden. She was holding Neville in her arms. He quickly motioned for her to go back outside, and followed her out into the garden.

“Mrs. Longbottom . . . There’s been another attack . . . The Death Eaters . . . We caught all of them, but, well, Alice and Frank . . .” he trailed off.

“Are they dead?” asked Mrs. Longbottom.

“No, they’re at St. Mungo’s. But it doesn’t look good,” said Moody sadly. “They must have been tortured. I couldn’t get either of them to speak to me.”

“Well, I’d best take little Neville back to my home, then. I’ll find someone to look after him and go to St. Mungo’s later. Thanks for your help, Mr. Moody.”

Mrs. Longbottom turned and, carrying Neville in her arms, walked slowly back down the garden path toward the road.