Magical Fables !
One Shot No. OO3 :
The Essence of Reminiscence
[ Neville reminicising the first time his mother interacted with him ]

The air was thick with tension and curiosity. Augusta Longbottom absolutely feared visiting her son and her daughter-in-law. She did not fear them doing something, no. It was her grandson's reaction that shook her. He would usually grow really silent around his parents after giving them some trash, or pester her with questions as to how they would recover. The old lady never had the courage to reveal the truth that they would never be the same, and would resort to apprehending the boy for his questions. But today, he was acting different.

Clutching the Mimblus Mimbletonia plush that his uncle had bought him, he was looking at his mother with weary eyes that hid something. His silence was speaking volumes to Augusta "Neville, come on. It's time to hurry back."

Neville shook his head in response, and took her dressing gown in his wrist. "Can I stay the night here, granma?" he asked lowly. Augusta thought about it for a moment before she agreed to his request, finding no reason to deny him.

"Fine, but only if the hospital staff agree to it."

Neville agreed to the condition, and Augusta left him to his devices to request the hospital staff for an extra bed. The caretaker of the incurable ward was kind enough to accommodate Neville for the night. The preparations for his dinner were also gladly undertaken by the caretaker with just three knuts of charge. Augusta was definitely not against spending for her grandson, but she could not help but wonder why the boy had a strange request. After all, it was nothing Eke his parents would even realize that he was going to spend the night with them, or who he was for that matter.

When she returned to the ward, she was greeted by the sight of Frank Longbottom holding the Mimblus Mimbletonia plush as her grandson sat watching him. It shook her for a second, reminding her of the blissful times when Neville was innocent enough to agree to whatever excuses she had made from time to time about his parents' states. Now, she could affirmatively tell it was not the same.

"Neville, be good and don't trouble Mumma and Dadda, okay?" she managed to choke out. Neville nodded, a tiny twinkle of happiness in his brown eyes as lips quirked up in a smile.

"Yes, Granma!"

Life, Neville thought the word to be, was one tough situation. It had taken away what he wished

he could have for the rest of his life. He could vaguely remember flashes of red light, and a scream. An ungodly scream of the pain that you would get if you were to scrap your knee hard.

In the velvety stillness of the darkness that surrounded him, solitude whispered the melancholic tales that he shared with it; it was no stranger to him. Sure, he had his grandmother and his uncle, but a child's heart aches with the emptiness of a parentless void.

Neville sat up on his bed in between his parents. Both of them were fast asleep. His father's soft snores reached his ears. In the dull shine of the moonlight, he could make out the silhouette of his plush, tightly held by his father. Memories of warmth and love poked his fragile mind, and he selfishly wished to be in the plush's stead, cuddled up in his father's chest instead of the inanimate object

The boy coughed as a single tear rolled down his cheek. Perhaps, his grandmother had told him the wrong meaning of life. It was supposed to be like a warm day among plants, not a freezing night in the haunting absence of familial embrace. "Life is a splendid, short thing. It can be enjoyed and cherished. Like the warmth of the sun on your chubby arms that are deep in the soil. It is like the cry of a Mandrake. Agonizing at times, but worth the trouble when you have the remedy you are looking for."

Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around his middle. A soft breath sickled the hair by his neck, sending shivers down the boy's spine and forcing the air out of his lungs. A miniscule squeal of surprise left his throat, and he froze.

"Choco wrap. My Nev. Gives."

At that moment, the blond boy did not understand anything more than how it really felt like to be embraced by his mother. The memory of how he had hugged her back, after a quick recovery of mind, and sucked in as much comfort as he could would never ever leave his mind. Not even after an eternity.

Perhaps, Life was not yet going to have the satisfaction of his abandonment.

Neville found himself lost in the vivid recollection of a warm summer afternoon, the soft breeze gently rusting the leaves, and the distant laughter of children echoing in the air.

The sun painted the sky with hues of gold, casting a radiant glow upon the sprawling meadows. He vividly remembered the fragrance of blooming flowers and the rhythmic chirping of birds, a symphony that infused the tranqui ambiance.

No matter how the environment brought about a sense of serenity, he found himself lost in the wistful recollection of his days at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The memory of his first triumph in Gryffindor, standing resolute in front of his peers, as the Sword of Gryffindor materialized in his hand, flooded his mind. He fondly remembered the supportive guidance of Professor Dumbledore and the unwavering camaraderie among his friends during their daring escapades against dark forces.

Neville's reminiscences were woven with the bittersweet remembrance of his parents, who remained in a permanent state of mental incapacitation, a poignant reminder of the sacrifices made in the fight against Voldemort.

Every detail of that fateful day when his mother had first talked to him, from the delicate play of moonlight on the linen sheets to the fleeting moments of joy shared with loved ones, etched an indelible mark in Neville's memory, leaving an nduring sense of serenity and nostalgia amidst

The aftermath of one of the bloodiest battles in history.

Credits !
Author: lixiesdiaryy

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