The baby who had unleashed that surge of power passed out in the next second, his face as pale as paper, his breathing so faint it almost vanished.
The Longbottoms let out beast-like howls of grief, dragging bodies ravaged to the extreme by Spells, desperately crawling toward their child.
They had just gathered the child into their arms when the Death Eater, his head broken and bleeding, struggled up from the floor and bellowed in fury:
"I'll kill you! Crucio! Crucio! Crucio…"
Multiple Cruciatus Curses fell on the couple; they didn't even manage a scream. The light in their pupils silently shattered and dispersed.
No one knew how long had passed when the door was blasted to pieces by a flash of red light. Several figures stormed into the room like thunder and in an instant subdued the exhausted Death Eaters.
"Frank! Alice! Wake up! You're safe, it's over… Frank! Alice…"
The voice gradually shifted from a frantic shout to a choked sob.
"Are they still alive?"
"Still alive, but…"
Frank's back had already been seared black by the power of the Magic Spell. He lay on the ground staring at the ceiling, the eyes that had once been gentle now like glass marbles that would never again move.
Alice, on the other hand, stood up with a vacant look, reaching out to stroke the air, mumbling, "It's all right… it's all right… baby… be good… you're going to be fine…"
"They… they seem to have already…"
One of the newcomers dropped to his knees and slammed a fist hard into the floor, tears dripping down his scarred cheeks.
"At least the child is still alive. That must be what Frank and Alice would most want to see."
Another person carefully picked up the unconscious Neville and said worriedly, "But… he might have seen his parents being tortured…"
"We can't just leave it be. This memory might crush this child. It's best to make him forget."
"But to use a Forgetfulness Spell on a child this young…"
"The Longbottoms would certainly want to see their son grow up happy. Apart from that, nothing else matters."
"Let Mrs. Longbanton decide… she's the only one qualified to make this decision for them…"
The voices of discussion gradually turned vague and indistinct, while Neville, standing off to the side, already had tears streaming down his face.
Only he knew that at this moment what his mother was stroking wasn't the air, but his own face.
In that moment, he couldn't even tell whether this was memory or illusion—whether it was just that the place his mother had once caressed happened to overlap with where he stood now, or whether, right now, Alice Longbottom in the Spiritual World had finally gained a brief moment of clarity and seen him?
Neville couldn't tell real from false. He cried in a thoroughly wretched way, carefully cupping that withered hand, feeling the warmth at her fingertips as tears ran wild down his cheeks.
"Why are you crying like this again?"
Alice said helplessly yet tenderly, "Are you hungry, or did you fall down?"
Neville shook his head, too choked up to speak.
"I know—Grandma wouldn't let you play with the Fireworks Stick, is that it? Grandma's doing it for your own good, that thing is a bit too dangerous for you…"
The boy was still sobbing his heart out, unable to speak. He opened his mouth, wanting to comfort his mother, but only a howl of soul-deep anguish came out, his whole body trembling uncontrollably.
Alice spun around in panic and hurriedly asked, "Then is it that you're feeling ill? Does your tummy hurt? Is somewhere uncomfortable? You don't have a fever…"
She rose up on tiptoe and pressed her forehead to Neville's to test his temperature.
Suddenly, Alice's words stopped.
She leaned her upper body back a little and looked blankly at Neville; her expression was still somewhat vacant, but a flicker of puzzlement seemed to flash through her clouded eyes.
"You… you…"
Her gaze wandered uncertainly over Neville's face, as if shrinking back, as if unsure.
"Are you Neville?" Alice murmured. "How did you… get so tall?"
…
The day before the new term began, Vid saw Neville—the Longbottom Family's boy had just returned to school and had come specifically to thank Vid.
"My mum can recognize me now! She can talk to me for quite a while at a time, and she knows I'm in Gryffindor and already in fourth year!"
Neville said happily, "With her there, my dad has also started slowly recovering. Just yesterday he told me he was sorry he couldn't come with me to school."
"They've forgotten so many things… they don't even remember how to use most Magic Spells, but they haven't forgotten me…"
His expression was caught somewhere between crying and laughing, joy and sorrow tangled together in a way that was hard to describe.
"Once their consciousness begins to awaken, a full recovery is only a matter of time." Vid patted his shoulder and said, "Your parents are very strong. They'll definitely overcome the pain of the past."
Neville wiped at the corner of his eye and nodded hard. "I believe they can! Actually, I wanted to stay at St Mungo's to help, but Grandma insisted I come back to class—and my mum and dad said the same."
He had never imagined that one day he would be able to say the words "mum and dad" so calmly.
"Isn't that a good thing?" Vid smiled. "Because you still have so much time together ahead of you, you don't need to rush these moments. And if you study Magic properly, you'll be able to become the one your parents and grandmother can rely on."
"Rely on me… I don't know if I can do that…"
Neville touched his head a little self-consciously, hesitated, then asked, "Vid, do you know Bellatrix? For a criminal like her, sentenced to life, once she's locked up in Azkaban, she shouldn't ever have a chance to get out, right?"
Vid said cautiously, "Generally speaking, no."
Neville's mind suddenly sparked, and he pressed on, "What about not generally?"
"Like… if someone broke them out?"
Vid said in a teasing tone, "A place like prison—some people look at the inmates and see nothing but talent. Even if they were locked at the bottom of the sea, those people would still want to haul them out and turn them into their own force, without caring in the slightest if it plunges the world into chaos."
Neville had never been very good at telling when people were joking. Anyone else would probably have assumed Vid was kidding, but Neville asked in deep anxiety, "Even someone like a Lestrange, there would still be people who'd want to get her out of prison?"
Vid gave him a long, deep look and said, "Rather than worrying about that, you'd be better off doing everything you can to make yourself stronger. That way, if that day ever does come, the ones who need to be afraid won't be you… but them."
Neville's body jolted, his eyes widening slightly.
Because of his parents' tragedy, because of his own clumsiness and weakness, Neville had long been shrouded in all kinds of pessimism. He was sad and miserable, full of self-pity, forever lamenting that misfortune always chose him. Even when the Slytherins bullied and mocked him, he would only endure it in silence.
Becoming friends with Vid and the others had certainly changed him a lot, but Neville knew that deep down he was still that little boy bound by fear and weakness. He could never become as "cool" as his friends.
Neville had never imagined… that he could seize the right of vengeance into his own hands!
This subversive notion struck like a bolt of lightning, splitting apart the darkness that had weighed on his heart for so long. He slowly lowered his head and stared at his palms, crisscrossed with scars of all sizes.
"I'm always so clumsy, with a bad memory, easily hurt, useless at everything, I don't even dare raise my voice at people…"
Neville said very softly, "But even so… even so…"
In his mind flashed Bellatrix's face—brimming with malice, madness, and hate.
And in his ears, his parents' screams of agony, worse than death, never stopped echoing.
Those people had been right… memories like these had indeed changed him forever.
"Even so…" Neville said slowly, his tone bearing a resolve unlike anything before, "I'll still make it happen! Bellatrix… she's the one who should tremble, the one who should know fear!"
"And Barty Crouch Jr, Radolphus Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange…"
"If the day ever comes when they leave Azkaban, I hope… I can be the one to end it all with my own hands!"