In Her Silence, He Waited
Everyone had gone back inside the house to keep chatting for a while longer, while the children were completely immersed in a desperate mission: finding out where the Christmas presents were hidden. At that point, waiting until the next morning felt simply cruel.
Red, of course, was being used as a bloodhound. Literally.
"You didn't think we might've hidden the presents somewhere else?" Sirius commented with a teasing smile as he watched the kids rummage through cushions, drawers, and closets.
"Shut up, godfather. We're busy," Harry replied without even looking at him.
"Hey! I'm giving you a hint and that's how you treat me? You should be thankful that your godfather is charming and handsome. Unlike that Malfoy brat who got Snape. Can you imagine having Snape as your godfather?"
"If I answer that, you'll just get sadder," Harry said with a sarcastic smile.
"I know you're joking, but it still stings!" Sirius replied, ruffling Harry's hair affectionately.
"Speaking of godparents… who are your godmothers? You've never mentioned them," Daphne asked, looking at both Draco and Harry.
"Mine's my aunt Andromeda," Draco answered without much thought.
"I've got no idea who mine is," said Harry, casting a glance toward Sirius.
Sirius paused for a moment. His face showed a flicker of genuine surprise.
"You don't know?" he asked, a bit confused. "Then how did you find out I was your godfather?"
"You told me," Harry answered, looking at him like it was obvious. "My grandparents said it was a possibility, but you were the one who confirmed it."
Sirius turned instinctively to Lupin, as if searching for backup in his memory.
"No one else could've known… only members of the Order. And as you know, most of them…" Lupin murmured in a somber tone.
"Well, Harry… when you were born, your parents—just like us—were part of the Order of the Phoenix. A secret group of powerful witches and wizards who fought against the Death Eaters. That's where your godparents were chosen. And back then, the ones picked were me… and your mum's best friend: Alice Longbottom," Sirius finally said, his voice heavy with the past.
"Is she… dead?" Harry asked quietly.
"No. Or at least… not exactly. I don't know what happened to her," Sirius admitted. After Azkaban, he had spent so much time trying to piece his life back together, reconnect with his godson, and manage the responsibilities of his family name, that thinking about the Order brought more pain than comfort. Especially considering how strained things had become with Dumbledore.
Lupin, for his part, had left the country not long after Sirius was imprisoned and Pettigrew was believed dead. He hadn't been able to bear losing all his friends in a single day.
"If you're talking about Alice Longbottom… she's not dead," Selene interrupted gently, though her voice held a firm edge. Her gaze shifted toward Narcissa, who sat silently with a glass of wine, lost in thought.
Christmas Morning
Harry walked alongside Sirius through the halls of St. Mungo's, the wizarding world's finest hospital. On either side, rooms revealed patients with the most bizarre conditions: one had his head stuck inside a teacup, another had ears puffed up like balloons, and one shuffled along dragging feet so enormous he could barely walk.
But that wasn't the reason for their visit.
Wanda followed silently behind them, her eyes scanning every corner with interest—as if her magic let her perceive more than the eye could see.
That morning, only the three of them had come. It was a private matter. Something that concerned both the Potters… and Sirius Black.
The corridors were painted in soft colors, designed to give the illusion of peace. Eventually, they stopped in front of a room. A small golden plaque on the door read:
Frank and Alice Longbottom – Permanent Damage
Before Sirius could even knock, the door creaked open. A boy stepped out with his head down, staring at a candy wrapper in his hand. Behind him followed an older woman with a strict expression, her eyes narrowing the moment she saw Sirius.
"Black. What the hell are you doing here?" the woman snapped.
Harry recognized her instantly. The boy was Neville—the same one who had lost his toad on the first day at Hogwarts.
"Augusta," Sirius said calmly, though his tone held a challenge. "Looks like age is catching up with you."
"Hmph. I could still kick your arse at my age, brat. What do you want?"
"Harry wanted to meet his godmother. Maybe you didn't know, but it's Alice. And it seems no one's bothered to tell him until now," Sirius replied, gaze unwavering.
"And what would he gain from knowing that?" Augusta retorted, eyeing Harry sternly. But after a few seconds, she sighed. "I'm going to get some air. Neville, make the introductions. Don't take too long."
Without another word, she left them standing at the doorway.
"Hi, Neville," Harry said softly.
"Hi, Harry," Neville replied without looking up. "You're my mum's godson? Come on… I'll introduce you. But… they might not remember you."
Neville pushed the door open and walked in. Harry followed, heart pounding.
Inside were two people sitting on soft armchairs, quietly staring at the ceiling. A woman with very fine blonde hair… and a man with a mature face that strongly resembled Neville.
"These are my parents. Alice and Frank," Neville said, his voice trembling.
The room was filled with fresh flowers and drawings—clearly brought by Neville during his visits.
Alice slowly moved her head, her gaze landing on Harry… and she smiled. Then she looked at Neville the same way before turning her eyes back to the ceiling, as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.
"They were… tortured with the Cruciatus Curse… by Death Eaters," Neville explained, as though each word pained him.
Harry felt a sting in his chest. Not just for Alice… but for the sorrow in Neville's eyes.
He turned toward his mother.
Wanda stood at the entrance, her eyes bright with restrained emotion, though her expression remained calm. She stepped forward with a gentle smile.
Neville glanced at her, uncertain.
"Don't worry, Neville. She's my mum. Maybe… maybe she can help," said Harry, his voice full of hope. And for a brief moment, that same hope lit up Neville's eyes… only to fade again.
"Loads of doctors have already seen them. They say there's no cure," he whispered.
Sirius remained silent, his eyes fixed on his old friends. Seeing them like this was a cruel reminder. And knowing that one of the ones responsible had been his cousin Bellatrix filled him with a cold, bitter resentment. While he was trying to rebuild bridges with Narcissa and Andromeda, he knew that Bellatrix… would never be redeemed. Not after this.
Wanda stepped closer to Alice slowly.
The woman looked at her… and with trembling hands, offered her a gum wrapper without saying a word.
Wanda accepted it gently and at the same time, softly touched her hand. A faint red glow emerged from the contact, and the trembling limb began to calm.
Then, with utmost care, Wanda placed her other hand on Alice's head.
And in that moment… the air itself seemed to hold its breath.
Inside a mind completely shattered, where colors floated in impossible shapes and cracks stretched like spatial fractures, Wanda walked in silence. With every step, her scarlet aura pushed back the brokenness, forcing the fissures to close little by little—as if her mere presence brought order to ancient chaos.
The mental space she was in wasn't a memory or a dream: it was a refuge. A broken one.
She knew exactly where to go. Her magical instinct—and something even deeper, the emotional bond she had formed through Harry and all that it meant to be a mother—guided her forward.
After a long walk, she reached an area strangely untouched, as if pain had not been able to reach it. There, sitting in the center of a stone platform suspended over a void of light and shadow, was a female figure curled into a fetal position, her face buried in her knees.
Wanda stopped a few meters away.
"Hello," she said gently, her voice echoing like a warm note that didn't belong in that broken world.
The figure trembled violently at the sound, curling up tighter, as if even words might shatter her.
"Who are you? Why are you here? How did you get in?" the woman asked with a broken voice, not lifting her head. Her fine blonde hair was messy, but Wanda had no doubt: it was Alice.
She was trapped inside herself, in the deepest corner of her mind. Not because she wanted to be, but because her psyche, in a desperate act of protection, had locked her away from the outside world. It was the only way she had survived the unbearable pain the Death Eaters had inflicted on her.
"I didn't come to hurt you," Wanda said softly, taking a single step forward. "I came… because someone loves you so much, they're still waiting for you."
The figure didn't respond.
"Who?" Alice murmured, her voice trembling. "I don't know how to get out. I don't even know if I want to."
"I understand," Wanda said with tender patience. She slowly sat down in front of her, leaving a respectful space between them. "But out there… there's a boy who brings you drawings every week. Who keeps candy wrappers just because you once gave him one. Who thinks you don't remember him—but he still comes. The most precious thing a mother can have… your son, Neville."
Alice lifted her head just slightly—enough for Wanda to see her eyes, red and hollow.
"Neville…" she repeated, as if the name floated in the air like a forgotten melody.
"Yes. Neville. Your son. He's your light. It's time to come back. A child shouldn't be far from their parents."
Alice breathed shakily. "I can't. Everything is dark. There's no way out. No path."
Wanda extended her hand.
"Let me help you find it. Follow the love you have for him… The day he was born. When you felt his tiny hands for the first time. The path is in your heart."
Alice looked at her.
Slowly, trembling as if touching fire for the first time, she reached out and took Wanda's hand.
The moment she did, the world around them began to change. The cracks vanished as if they had never existed. The colors became clearer, steadier. And the void filled with hazy images: a laughing baby, trembling hands offering candy, a voice whispering "I love you, Mum" through tears.
She saw him grow, as if distant memories were being projected into the air. She saw him visiting her every day, staying by her side and talking to her in his soft voice before leaving with a heavy heart.
She saw the drawings he made for her and Frank, even when they never responded. The hugs he gave them before leaving, eyes glistening with tears.
Wanda closed her eyes and channeled her scarlet power gently. No force. No invasion.
Just guidance.
Back in the real world
The room at St. Mungo's was completely silent.
Wanda hadn't let go of Alice's hand, and a soft scarlet energy still flowed between them.
Then, Alice blinked.
Slowly, heavily.
And her eyes began to move with more awareness. They scanned the ceiling… then the room… until they landed on Neville.
She stared at him for several seconds that felt like eternity.
And then, she smiled.
A fragile smile, like sunlight breaking through after years of storm.
Tears welled up in her eyes and fell freely down her cheeks.
"Neville…" she whispered, voice cracked but alive.
The boy froze.
Then he ran to her. For the first time in so long, his name had come from his mother's lips.
They embraced, crying with all the strength they had. As if finally releasing all the pain their family had carried for years.
Outside the room, Augusta stood leaning against the wall, smiling softly.
And tears rolled down her cheeks.