FIC: Healing Invisible Scars (Neville, Luna, Gen)

[shiiki]

Title: Healing Invisible Scars
Author: shiiki
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Xenophilius Lovegood, Gen
Fandom: Harry Potter
Word Count: 3,093

Summary: It didn't matter whether you were eight or eighteen. The revelation that a parent might have gone away to a place you couldn't follow, even if they were physically right there, was just as hard to bear. The war gives Neville and Luna something else in common.

Notes: This is the other plot bunny that sprung up from pili204's prompt way back in January. (Yeah, it's taken me long enough.)



Of all the decisions Neville had made over the past year, he was perhaps most thankful for having chosen to send his parents -- along with the Muggle-born Healer who would look after them -- away to France before things got really bad.

Gran he'd not been so worried about: he knew she had always been able to take care of herself. But if the Death Eaters had had his parents in St Mungo's as collateral, Neville wasn't sure if he'd have cracked under a threat to them.

However, thanks to that one timely call back in August and the help of the Order of the Phoenix, he'd been able to stick to his guns all the way through and lead the Hogwarts resistance without wavering, right up to the end. And now that it was finally over, Mum and Dad were being safely reinstated in the Closed Ward.

They might not recognise him, but Neville didn't think he could have borne losing all he had of them.

He wasn't the only one who'd had to make such difficult choices about their families. Hermione, he'd learned, had sent her parents to Australia, running the risk that they might never know her again. Neville could certainly empathise with that. Ginny's entire family had been gigantic targets from the start, of course, but Luna and her father had been relatively unknown entities until she'd convinced him to support Harry.

It had been the right thing to do, but also something that Neville thought required a great deal of courage -- both father and daughter had suffered a great deal in the war.

After Azkaban prison had been liberated, a wild and utterly deranged-looking Mr Lovegood had arrived at Hogwarts sobbing for 'his Luna'. It was perhaps the first time Neville had ever seen Luna cry, when she'd opened her arms to her father and wept with him.

Their home, Neville later discovered, had been destroyed in the war. He didn't know the exact circumstances -- although he suspected from the looks passed between Harry, Ron, and Hermione that they did -- but that didn't really matter. The pertinent fact was that the Lovegoods had lost their home. And all that war hero stuff the Prophet was waving around aside, Luna was his friend.

Gran obviously accepted this, since she didn't even bat an eyelash when he informed her that the Lovegoods would be their guests until they could get back on their feet again.

At first, all seemed well. Xenophilius was very quiet, speaking only occasionally to Luna, but that hardly seemed out of the ordinary for a man who'd just come out of Azkaban. Luna herself remained calm and cheerful as she took dedicated care of him; her quiet optimism was as strengthening now as it had been in harder times last year.

However by the end of the first week, it became clear that things were evidently less simple than they'd appeared. Xenophilius Lovegood was not doing well.

Gran was the first to mention it. Neville himself was busy outside the house, what with helping to settle his parents back in St Mungo's and getting accosted by reporters practically every step he took in public, and so he hadn't noticed Mr Lovegood's behaviour much.

'He seems to be getting by,' said Neville, when Gran asked what he thought of their guest.

'I believe that he needs to see a Healer,' was Gran's opinion, delivered sternly.

'He's not ill, is he? Luna didn't say ... wouldn't she know ...?'

'There are illnesses that are not physical.' Gran's stern look was replaced by a one of sadness. 'You understand that, dear.'

Neville felt his heart sink to the bottom of his shoes.

He had no idea how to broach the topic with Luna. The more attention he paid to the Lovegoods, the more he could see Gran was right. Although Mr Lovegood spoke to Luna and invoked her name regularly when he did, he hardly seemed to know her (or anyone) most of the time. It was, Neville realised, very like the way his parents treated him.

'How is your father?' he finally asked her one afternoon while they were taking tea. Somehow the little china cups in their hands made Neville feel more comfortable treading into this dangerous territory.

'Daddy will be all right later,' said Luna. 'He just took a spell earlier, that's all.' Mr Lovegood was in one of his catatonic moods where he preferred to sit and cower in the darkness of his room.

Neville stared at his tea leaves. 'Luna, d'you think ...'

'I was thinking I should take him home,' Luna mused. 'But he feels so badly about it. I haven't been back yet -- I wonder how bad it is.'

Ginny had told him that the place was entirely caved in. Neville winced and tried one more time: 'It might be a good idea to have a Healer-'

'He's so afraid, Neville. I don't think he's ready to go out yet. I'm really sorry we're imposing on you like this. I'm sure in a few weeks at most ...'

There wasn't anything he could say to that but protest that it was no trouble, really. Luna smiled and thanked him. And that was that.

It occurred to him that as with all the fantastical things she had always believed in, Luna could cling to the notion that her father was going to be fine with just as much tenacity.

+++

Three weeks after the final battle, news came out that Hogwarts was beginning to rebuild. Neville signed on to help out without a second thought, as did nearly all the surviving DA members. Luna, to his surprised, offered too.

'Daddy's better,' she said in response to his inquisitive look. 'I think he may be getting sick of my company anyway. It'll be good for him to have some time on his own to think in the day.'

She said all this with such uncharacteristic firmness that Neville didn't have the heart to contradict her. It would be fine -- the house-elves could keep an eye on Mr Lovegood. It wasn't as though he ever seemed in the mood to wander around.

Unfortunately, Neville and Luna arrived home one day to find that this was a mistaken assumption. The Longbottoms' head house-elf, Tibby, greeted them in tears.

'Master, Tibby is sorry, sir, but Master's guest is missing!'

'Missing?'

'Tibby is sending house-elves to check on Mr Lovegood every hour, sir, but Tibby is finding Mr Lovegood is not in his room and house-elves is searching the house, sir, but we is not finding Mr Lovegood anywhere!'

'You've checked all the rooms? The grounds?'

'Yes, sir! Tibby is looking everywhere, even the attics, and no Mr Lovegood. Tibby is sorry we is not doing a good job!'

'No -- it's not your fault,' Neville said automatically. He sighed. Of all the days for Xenophilius to get wanderlust. He turned to Luna. 'Do you think he was up to Apparition?'

He had never seen Luna look so agitated before. Her eyes trembled with tears and her voice when she answered was shaky. 'No, I don't think he's strong enough. Neville, I think he's -- Daddy's ...' She took a deep breath. 'I think you might be right.'

Her stricken expression sent his mind reeling back in time to a young boy clutching at Droobles wrappers, trying to find hidden meanings in the smoothed-out creases.

It didn't matter whether you were eight or eighteen, he realised. The revelation that a parent might have gone away to a place you couldn't follow, even if they were physically right there, was just as hard to bear.

+++

Xenophilius hadn't gone far. They found him wading in one of the nearby marshes, covered in mud from head to toe.

'Where is she?' he said when they approached him. His fingers closed tightly around Neville's wrist. 'Have you seen my Luna?'

'I'm here, Daddy,' said Luna faintly. 'Daddy, look at me.'

Xenophilius stared at her for a long time. Then he started to sob. 'They took my Luna from me. They took her -- they took her -- oh Maisie, what will we do without our Luna?'

This time, Luna had no objections when Neville brought up St Mungo's.

+++

The Healers clucked and shook their heads when they examined Xenophilius. 'Mental trauma' and 'Dementor-induced depression' were some of the terms bandied about after they questioned Luna about his recent behaviour. Neville found himself wondering what they had said about his parents when they'd been brought in. He imagined Gran standing in Luna's place, absorbing the terrible news with that steady, determined expression on her face. Gran and Luna couldn't have been greater opposites, but Neville realised now that they had one striking similarity: they were both amazingly strong women.

'I'm very sorry,' said the Healer, whom Neville recognised as one of those who worked in the Spell Damage Ward. 'We've seen a number of such cases in the past month. There's no telling yet if he'll improve. There are some things which even magic can't fix.' She paused and glanced at Neville. Her voice turned very gentle. 'We do have the facilities to see to his needs here. I know it can be taxing to carry such a burden alone.'

Luna seemed to struggle with a decision inside her. At last, she said, very softly, 'Thank you.'

She was very quiet as they followed the Healer to the ward. It hadn't changed much over the years. The decor was as it had always been -- bright and cosy. Xenophilius had been given a Sleeping Draught and was now tucked into the bed next to Gilderoy Lockhart's. The latter beamed at Luna and Neville.

'Hallo,' he said cheerfully. 'Did you want a signed photo?'

'No thanks,' said Neville quickly. Disappointed, Lockhart wandered away.

'Daddy didn't think much of Professor Lockhart. We read his books together -- he didn't always get his facts right.'

'He's all right, really. Doesn't do much besides sign autographs -- he's better, actually. When he first came in here, he couldn't even sign his own name.'

'You've been here often, haven't you?'

Neville nodded. 'Do you want to meet my parents?'

'I ... well, yes, all right.'

He led her over to the corner by the window which Frank and Alice Longbottom had called home for fifteen years. Both of them were awake; Neville's father was standing by the window, looking out, while his mother was curled up in a chair, humming softly to herself.

'Mum? Dad?' said Neville. 'I've brought a friend to meet you.'

His mother didn't stop humming, but his father turned away from the window. He came forward and clapped Neville on the back. 'Ah, you must be the witness,' he said. 'I'll take your statement right away.'

Neville was somewhat used to this. His father occasionally believed he was still in the Auror department.

'This is Luna Lovegood, Dad,' he said. 'A very good friend of mine. I've told you about her before.'

His father looked at Luna as though he'd just noticed her. 'I'm afraid I'm running a little behind schedule today,' he told her apologetically. 'My wife and son are waiting for me. Have I shown you his picture?' He withdrew a battered-looking snapshot out of his pyjamas pockets and placed it in Luna's hand. 'He'll be turning two, soon. Brilliant kid, isn't he?' He snatched the photo back and stuffed it back in his pocket, patting it fondly.

'He's a wonderful person, Mr Longbottom,' said Luna. 'You should be proud of him.'

This exchange seemed to rouse Neville's mother from her reverie. She got to her feet and tottered over to her husband, Neville, and Luna.

'Mum,' said Neville, 'this is my friend Luna.'

'Pleased to meet you,' said Luna.

His mother grasped Luna's hand, held it to her eyes and turned it palm-up. She traced the lines running across it slowly. When she dropped Luna's hand, she was smiling. She held her own hand up in a gesture for them to wait. Then she retrieved something from her bedside drawer before returning to them. However she seemed to have lost her train of thought by the time she was done and she stared in confusion at her closed hands. Her eyes shifted blankly to Luna and she opened her fist. A crumpled Drooble's wrapper floated out.

'I forgot,' she whispered, and turned away.

Luna bent for the wrapper, looking thoughtful. Her fingers folded it carefully into a triangle. Neville didn't see what else she did with it, but in a moment she uncurled her fingers to reveal a tiny paper bird.

'Japanese Muggles believe that a thousand paper cranes can cure any illness,' she said, and pressed it into his palm.

It was silly; for his entire life, he'd lived with this shade of his parents, knowing that there was no cure, no reversal of their mentally-addled state. But Luna's obscure bit of trivia made hope flare momentarily in his chest.

'Thank you,' he said, with the faint feeling that things were back to front -- wasn't he the one who was supposed to offer her comfort?

With Luna, though, that wasn't so surprising. 'Well,' he said after a while, 'do you want to stay until your dad wakes up, or shall we head home?'

Luna shook her head. 'The Healers said he'll likely sleep until tomorrow. I don't think there's any use in me staying. And I --' she took a deep breath '-- I want to go to my home, Neville.'

As far as he knew, her home was still a pile of rubble. Neville looked at her uncertainly. 'Are you sure?'

'Yes. Will you come with me?'

'Of course.'

+++

Neville Apparated them to the address Luna gave him; they landed precariously on a teetering plank of wood balanced on a boulder. Luna got her balance first and hopped off but Neville, clumsy and disoriented from the still-unfamiliar choking squeeze of Apparition, found himself toppling the plank of wood and sliding half a metre down to land hard on his bottom, catching splinters in his hands as he went.

'Oh!' said Luna, her hand flying to her mouth. 'I'm sorry, Neville.'

'M'okay,' he muttered. Gritting his teeth, he pointed his wand at his palms and summoned the splinters out. It throbbed horribly. Putting it out of his mind, he looked around.

It was nothing but a heap of rubble. He supposed he should have expected that -- he had known, after all, that Luna's house had been destroyed -- but there was still something about seeing an actual house, especially one of a friend's, caved in like this that made him wince. He wondered what it had looked like before and what curse exactly the Death Eaters had used to reduce it to such a state.

A breeze rustled the leaves and several loose pages lying around the debris fluttered at his feet. Neville stooped to pick it up. It was the cover of The Quibbler; probably the last issue Xenophilius had meant to print before the Death Eaters had got him. Harry's face blinked at him from under the caption of a thousand-Galleon reward price.

Neville gaped at the magazine for a moment, half-certain he was dreaming, or that it was some other magazine. The Quibbler had always supported Harry! That was why Luna had been captured, why Xenophilius had been taken, why Luna's whole world had been turned upside down ...

Well, the Death Eaters had probably tried to take over the publication, Neville reasoned. He tore his eyes away from Harry's Undesirable Number One picture and found that Luna was looking at him.

'He did it for me,' she said in a small voice, gesturing at the magazine. 'I made Ron tell me. Harry came here, you know. Daddy tried to turn him in.'

'No -- I'm sure ...'

'I was so angry. Daddy always said he was proud of me for sticking up for what I believed in. And then he didn't. It was ... disappointing.'

'Luna --'

'Did you know he'd found me a Snorkack horn? It blew up -- blew the whole place up. That's what happened here. He called the Death Eaters to hand Harry over. And the Snorkack horn exploded. '

'Ron ... he shouldn't have told you all that.' It was horrible, Neville thought. To have to find out after all she'd endured that her father hadn't been a hero -- it could only add to the pain of having Xenophilius admitted to the Closed Ward.

Luna looked surprised at his words. 'But I wanted to know. It's much better to know things. Anyway, I think I understand. I wish Daddy hadn't done it, but I'm not angry now -- not like I was when I first heard.' She gave him a quizzical glance. 'Aren't you mad at him?'

'I -- no. No, I'm ... surprised that this happened. And we didn't know. And ...' he ran his fingers through his hair. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'You've lost so much.' It's not fair, he thought. But then he'd known since he was hardly more than a baby that life wasn't fair.

'So has everyone,' she pointed out. 'I don't want to pity myself, Neville. I came back here because I wanted to find some things that would remind me of what I still have. And look.'

She bent down in a patch of rubble she had cleared and picked up a large chunk of plaster. 'Tergeo,' she said, and her wand siphoned off all the dust, grime, and powdered debris covering its surface, allowing Neville to see that something was painted on it.

It appeared to be the top quarter of a person's head, the rest of the face broken off. What was special, though, was the outline of the head, which had little gold letters printed in linked chains. The exquisite detail would have been beautiful in itself even if Neville hadn't realised what word it was, repeated many times over.

Friends.

'You see,' said Luna, 'I know I'm not alone.' She was smiling when he met her eyes. 'And neither are you. We're still very lucky.'

Lucky ... it was a word that few would have used to describe them after what war had done to and taken from them. And yet, they were alive and they had each other: friends -- family. The rest ... well, they were wounds, but deep as they might be, they would heal with time, which they now had.

'We are, aren't we?' Neville agreed.