"Here, Mum, have some apple."
In front of Bed 2 in Ward 49, Neville Longbottom, who to outsiders might seem clumsy and reserved, carefully peeled an apple and fed small pieces to the woman on the bed. Her expression was vacant, and she occasionally drooled.
This was Alice Longbottom, Neville's mother.
Though Alice no longer recognized her son, she instinctively felt a fondness for him. After eating a piece of apple Neville fed her, she stared at him, giggling endlessly.
Neville gently wiped the drool from her chin with a handkerchief, then offered her another piece of apple.
He came to visit his parents every year.
He never missed a visit.
Shortly after Neville was born, his parents had thrown themselves into the fight against Voldemort. They were the pride of the Longbottom family, elite Aurors, celebrated by other wizards for their powerful magic and unwavering stand against evil.
But just as Voldemort fell, on the cusp of a new dawn, Frank and Alice Longbottom were captured by his most loyal followers. The Death Eaters tortured them relentlessly with the Cruciatus Curse until their minds shattered. They were driven mad.
Neville, as a child, had witnessed their torment, leaving him deeply traumatized.
His grandmother later cast a Memory Charm on him to dull the pain.
As far back as Neville could remember, his parents had been like this—lost in a fog of confusion.
While other children were spoiled by their parents' love, Neville had never known what it felt like to be cherished by a mother or father.
Did he envy others?
Of course he did.
But at least he still had his parents, even if they no longer knew who he was.
Neville was raised by his grandmother, Augusta Longbottom, a formidable and resilient witch. She bore the tragedy of her son and daughter-in-law's madness with strength, raising her grandson single-handedly as both mother and father.
After feeding his mother another piece of apple, Neville tenderly smoothed her graying, disheveled hair, a flicker of pain in his eyes.
He looked so much like Alice—his face, his hair color. But over the past decade, her golden locks had faded to gray, and her face bore the weight of time.
The three Unforgivable Curses were called that for a reason. Beyond their immense power, they were steeped in dark, malevolent magic. While the Cruciatus and Imperius Curses didn't kill like the Killing Curse, they inflicted devastating harm.
"Heh heh."
Alice, still giggling, handed Neville a bubblegum wrapper.
It was the only thing she had to give, her gift to him.
Neville took it as if it were a precious treasure, carefully tucking it into his pocket.
Almost every visit, his mother gave him one of these wrappers as a gift.
Day after day, year after year, it was always the same.
So far, Neville had collected nearly four hundred of them.
To others, they might just be scraps of rubbish. His grandmother had told him more than once to throw them away. But Neville always kept them, carefully storing each one.
These were gifts from his mother—his most precious possessions.
Dudley and Hermione stood quietly at the door, watching the scene unfold without making a sound. Hermione, having learned the Longbottoms' story from Dudley, felt her eyes well up with tears. She buried her face in Dudley's chest, as sensitive girls often do.
Sensing their presence, Neville turned and saw them. He stood up quickly, stammering, "Sorry, D, I—"
"No need to apologize, Neville," Dudley said, shaking his head gently. "I know about your parents. They were incredible wizards."
Neville fidgeted, unsure of what to say.
"Mind if I take a look at them?" Dudley asked.
"Of c-course," Neville replied.
Dudley examined Alice first, then Frank.
His brow furrowed.
The prognosis wasn't good.
It wasn't just their mental state—Dudley didn't have much expertise there. It was their physical condition that concerned him.
Though the Longbottoms were only in their forties, their bodies were as frail as those of sixty-year-olds.
The Cruciatus Curse's lingering effects were partly to blame, but their poor nutrition didn't help.
"Neville, make sure to visit often and bring them some good food," Dudley advised.
The body could heal itself to some extent, but only with proper nourishment.
"D, is there any hope for them?" Neville asked suddenly, almost as if compelled.
Looking at Neville's hopeful, round face, Dudley hesitated but answered honestly, "Not yet, I'm afraid."
Healing someone driven mad by the Cruciatus Curse was far more complex than undoing a Memory Charm. In the stories, Voldemort had once broken a powerful Memory Charm cast on Bertha Jorkins, though the method was brutal and left lasting damage. At least it showed a Memory Charm could be undone.
But reversing the effects of a Cruciatus Curse that shattered a mind? That was on another level entirely.
It wasn't completely hopeless, though.
Dudley just wasn't there yet.
He'd need to study more.
As for using the Philosopher's Stone—it wasn't a cure-all. It could bypass certain magical rules, but it had limits, especially when it came to matters of the soul or emotions. It couldn't make someone fall in love or bring back the dead.
Summoning a dragon with seven Dragon Balls or winning an untainted Holy Grail might be more effective.
"Temporarily," Neville caught that word, his usually dim demeanor sharpening.
The spark of hope, long extinguished, flickered back to life.
Though he was thrilled, he didn't press Dudley for a timeline. He trusted that when Dudley was ready, he'd say so.
The thought that Dudley might be wrong never crossed Neville's mind.
D never made promises he couldn't keep. If he said it, he meant it.
"Neville, Hermione and I will wait outside. Take your time with them," Dudley said, clapping Neville on the shoulder with a few encouraging words.
"Keep studying hard and make yourself better. I bet if your parents woke up, they'd want to see you shining."
Of course, if that day ever came, Frank and Alice would likely just want to see Neville healthy and happy.
Most parents, except the worst of them, want that for their kids.