Out of Time and Memory

Chapter 11 - Reasons to Fight

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Neville Longbottom was tired. He didn’t think he had ever been this tired in his 15 ½ years. This was not so much a physical tiredness, though—it was a mental exhaustion past anything he had ever known. The reason for this exhaustion was the same reason that Neville was just returning home with his grandmother.


They had just attended a memorial service for Sirius Black.


When Neville had voiced his determination to attend the memorial, his Gran had been skeptical. But when she had seen Neville’s unusual stubbornness on the matter—and after receiving a little pushing from Professor Albus Dumbledore—the elderly woman had relented. She had even accompanied Neville to the service. The eulogy had been given by Professor Remus Lupin, and had given Neville much to think about. He had always heard how awful and evil Sirius Black was, but now he was leaning about a different man: an innocent man who was well loved by his friends and by his family.


Family. . .


Before Neville’s mind could wander down those unwanted paths, Neville felt a strong hand on his shoulder. As he looked up into his Gran’s face, Neville registered for the first time that he had dropped into one of the kitchen chairs, and had been staring into space. Gran squeezed Neville’s shoulder.


“Neville, dear, why don’t you go to bed? You look exhausted.” Neville gave Gran a wan smile.


“It think I will. G’night, Gran.”


“Goodnight, dear.”


Neville padded up to his room,lingling his mind to stay blank as he got ready for bed.


He didn’t want to think anymore. He just wanted to sleep. . .


Sleep. . .


Neville drifted into sleep, but he had forgotten one thing.


With sleep comes dreams.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


/Since I was a child

I’ve seen her in a dream

A captured fairytale

That echoes ‘cross my life

And though I’ve courted her

She’s always stayed unseen

Now all at once she

Glitters in the night/


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Neville found himself standing in a living room. It was a room dredged from the very bottom of his memory—a room in the house that he had shared with his parents for the year before they had been taken from him. Neville knew he was dreaming. He had had this particular dream before. And so Neville turned to the door, where he knew that a blonde woman would soon be entering the room. She smiled and walked to a corner of the living room, where a man was playing with a small child. Neville’s eyes followed the woman who was his mother as she picked up the younger version of himself, saying something to the man who was his father. As baby Neville nuzzled his face into her neck, the older Neville reached out his hand towards the memory of his mother, thinking that maybe this time, the dream would end happily. If he could just touch her, warn her of what was to happen, maybe then. . .


But it was not to be. Just as Neville’s hand would have made contact, his mother’s smile melted away, replaced by a scream, and the rest of her features changed into the emaciated version that Neville knew today, the woman whom he visited every holiday in St. Mungos. The same was happening to his father, when Neville turned to him. The living room was melting away into the pristine walls of his parent’s hospital ward, and suddenly his parents were struggling against the restraints that held them on their beds.


All at once, Neville woke up. He was covered in sweat and breathing hard, but at least this time he hadn’t woken up screaming. This had been a recurring nightmare since early childhood, and when Neville had been younger, he would awaken screaming and had refused to let go of his Gran for hours at a time. The funny thing was that while Neville, while awake, could barely remember what his mother and father had looked like in their youth, the image of her was crystal clear in his nightmare. He had tried to remember the faces when awake, but knew in the end that the only way he would catch a glimpse of those faces would be to relive his nightmares again.


Sighing to himself, Neville got out of bed and headed to the bathroom for a drink of water. But at he was on his way back to his room, Neville noticed something odd.


The attic door was open.


Curious, Neville headed for the attic. Perhaps Gran was up there, and her presence might be comforting before he went back to bed. Even though his Gran could be highly intimidating at times, she was still the one who had raised him, held him through the worst of his nightmares, and knew better than anyone else how to calm his nerves. But as Neville emerged from the short stairwell into the attic, it became apparent that his Gran was not there. Confused, Neville surmised that she must have been looking for something, and would be back shortly. Shrugging to himself, Neville almost turned and left the attic when his attention was arrested by a glimmer in the corner. Stepping forward to see the object better, he found that it was a bowl, painted a cheery yellow, sitting on a table. Also painted on the bowl was a name: Alice. The bowl was filled with a silvery substance. Neville nearly fell backwards when the impact of what he was seeing hit him.


It was his mother’s Pensieve.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


/But that was yesterday

And that was all before

When she was far away

A silhouette of dreams

But others whispered

That she was so much more

And suddenly I now

Know what they mean/


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Neville stepped up to the table. Wondering why he had never seen this before, with all the times he had been into the attic, Neville guessed that his Gran had kept this Pensieve hidden, and had had it out tonight, thinking him safely asleep in his bed for the rest of the night. Neville saw images swirling just below the surface of the Pensieve. He knew what they were—they were his mother’s memories. In utter wonderment, Neville did the first thing that crossed his mind.


He touched the surface of the silver mist.


Suddenly, Neville felt himself falling. When he stopped, he was surprised to find himself on Hogwarts’ grounds. Before Neville could begin panicking over the change of location and the absence of anyone he knew, he saw a short blonde woman came rushing past him, almost bowling him over and yet seemingly oblivious to his presence. All thoughts of panic abruptly flew from Neville’s head as he recognized the woman as his mother. Looking to where she was running, Neville saw his father smiling broadly and holding out his arms. As his mother launched herself into his father’s arms, Neville felt tears pricking the corners of his eyes. He had heard about how beautiful his parents had been together, but he had never had the chance to see it for himself. His parents fit together perfectly, leaving it clear that there was no way that they could have been meant for anyone else than each other. Neville could also see the mix of features in his parent’s faces that made up his own face: His father’s nose and eyes, his mother’s cheekbones and hair. . .


As Neville watched his parents student-selves walk away, arm in arm, the scene began to blur and change around him. All of a sudden, Neville found himself in a kitchen. It seemed familiar to him somehow. Neville suddenly realized were he was—it was the same house that held the living room in his dreams. The house that he and his parents had lived in. Neville could see his mother standing at the stove stirring a pot, chatting to a slim red-head that was chopping vegetables at the counter. Curious as to the red-head’s identity, Neville looked around the room, looking for something to verify her identity. He found it in the corner, where a baby-Neville was playing with another little boy. One with black hair.


And green eyes.


The impact of whom he was seeing hit Neville like an Express train. He looked back and forth between a young Harry Potter, and the woman who must have been Lily Potter, shocked. He had never thought that the Potters and the Longbottoms might have been friends, but it made se as as they would have known each other at Hogwarts, even though Neville’s parents had been a couple of years ahead of Harry’s. As these thoughts filtered through Neville’s head, Neville’s attention was drawn to the back door, where two men had just entered the room. Neville recognized his own father, and a man who looked exactly as Harry would in about five years, when he hit twenty. Each of the men went to his respective wife, and gave them a warm kiss, before the man who must have been James Potter walked over and picked up baby Harry. Baby Neville gave a small sound of discontent at losing his playmate, prompting his own father to come and pick him up. And for a moment, two families were perfectly happy.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


/Dreams change

Years strain

Lost illusions

Last stands

God’s hand

Absolution

Found

Fairy tale sins

Visions by Grimm

All forgiven

Lives spent in vain

Never reclaimed

Take their final bows/


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


It was at this scene that Neville was pulled back to reality by a gasp behind him. Turning around, Neville saw his grandmother standing at the top of the stairs, her handover her mouth, her eyes wide.


“Neville—you ought to be in bed—why are you up here?” She asked disjointedly.


“Nightmare.” Neville shrugged. “The door was open, I thought you were up here.” Gran nodded. It was obvious that Neville had seen the Pensieve.


“I see.” She said simply, before heading down the stairs. Neville blew out a breath he hadn’t been aware he had been holding, and turned back to the Pensieve. He had no inclination to use it again so soon, but he didn’t want to leave it in the attic, either. He assumed that his grandmother had kept it hiddway,way, and though he also knew that she must have had a good reason, to leave it in the attic now seemed to Neville as if he would be abandoning his parents. So, screwing up his determination, Neville carefully picked up the Pensieve and carried it to his bedroom, where he set it on his bedside table before slipping back between his sheets. Looking at the clock sitting beside the Pensieve, Neville was surprised to see that only ten minutes had elapsed since he had left his bed for water. But this surprise didn’t last long, as Neville drifted off to sleep.


And Neville dreamt no more that night.


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/Pictures and words

Visions absurd

Maddened poets

All within sight

Failures in life

Who’ll never know it

Lazarus cries

There in his eyes

Hope has risen

Depth and façade

All before me

Now/


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Neville awoke with pictures and feeling from the Pensieve still running through his head. Oddly—or perhaps not so oddly—they were joined with the images of Sirius Black, fighting in the Department of Mysteries, and the words Remus Lupin had spoken of him. And these images and words told Neville all he needed to know to do what he had to do.


Neville thought about what he was going to say to his Gran while he was dressing. But when he saw her in the kitchen, he found that he didn’t have to say anything. When Gran looked at Neville, she sucked her breath in. Neville looked questioningly at her.


“You look like your father.” Gran stated shortly.


Very eloquently, Neville replied, “Hunh?”


Gran closed her eyes a moment. “The look in you eyes. It’s the same look that Frank had when he decided to join the O.”
.”


Neville looked at his Gran for a moment, before replying. “Gran, I saw Mom and Dad. And—and—and the Potters. An in that memory, we were all so happy. Before it was all taken away.” Neville took a deep breath. “I have to join the Order, if they’ll let me. It’s the only way that I can help avenge Mom and Dad—and the Potters, and even Sirius Black. And when I visit Mom and Dad, I’ll be able to look them in the face, and know that I’m helping to prevent this from happening to another family.” Neville looked down. “I don’t want to be a failure anymore, Gran. I have to do this.”


Gran nodded. “I didn’t keep the Pensieve to myself just to be cruel, you must understand this. I just knew that this would happen, and I. . .I guess I just wanted to keep you safe as long as I could.” She looked Neville in the eye. “Neville, I know you don’t know this, because I’ve never said it. But I am very proud of you.”


Neville nodded, before rushing into his Gran’s arms and hugging her tight. “Thanks, Gran.” He heard her sniff, before saying:


“Here, I’ll get in touch with Dumbledore, and he can take you through the fire.” And she did exactly that. Neville could only assume that Dumbledore had told his Gran how to reach him, for within five minutes, Dumbledore’s head was sitting in the fire and Neville had told him what he wanted.


Dumbledore’s head sat quiet for a moment, before a hand was extended. “Mr. Longbottom, please take my hand.” Dumbledore invited. Casting a glance at his Gran, Neville waved to her.


“See you later, Gran.” She gave him a small smile and a nod as Neville turned back to the flames and clasped Dumbledore’s hand, stepping through the fire. Once Neville had his bearings back, he looked around, noting the people gathered in a somewhat shabby room. There were many people seated and standing around the room, many of whom had been at the memorial for Sirius Black the night before. The Weasleys, minus Percy but plus Hermione Granger, were seated on a couch to the left of the fire, opposite a couch holding Remus Lupin, Mad-eye Moody, and a woman with bright pink hair that had been introduced to Neville as Tonks. In one corner Professors McGonagall, Snape and Hagrid were conversing with three men and one old woman whose names Neville did not remember. As Neville finished this survey of the room, Harry Potter walked in, looking as if he had wrestled some demons, but with a look in his eyes that told everyone that he had conquered them all.


Dumbledore cleared is throat, and everyone turned towards the fire, where he and Neville were still standing.


“Mr. Longbottom, welcome to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Home of the Order of the Phoenix.”


Neville looked on the group again, and felt a surge of hope for the future rise in him. He knew that he could help. Because finally, in his mother’s memories and in Sirius Black’s memory, Neville Longbottom had found his reason to fight.


~fin~