Facing My Mind (ISO: Neville)

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This had been bugging Zach for two weeks now. And that alone was unusual. He wasn’t one to get bugged by small things much (it was small to him thank you). If at all that was. There were just too many other things to think about…too many things to worry about…too much going on around him in general to worry about such a relatively personal and small thing. But gosh darn it he could not help it this time! It was pestering him like a damn bug! And he could not just let it go like he normally did—there was just something about it that was different this time versus other times. Something that demanded investigation….

That feeling of not knowing something that you should know. People that he should know. Places that he should know. It was rough – more on the mind than anything else of course. Physically you could say that he was perfectly healthy and he was…but mentally? Maybe not so much. He let out a huffy exhale through his nose. It was so frustrating! That little piece of something that he felt like he should know…that he should have been able to figure out and yet he could not fully grasp it. It felt like it was there—just right there and he couldn’t reach it. It was really starting to drive him a little bit crazy here. And that was never a good sign.

You would have figured twenty odd years would be long enough for whatever charms and god only knows what else they had casted on him to go away. To leave him be. But it wasn’t like that it would seem. Not like that at all. Those memory charms had really skewed his perception of who he remembered, who he thought he knew and who he didn’t. And normally it was just something he was push through on his own and eventually push away. No one needed to know that sorry part about him anyways. But it was seeing some of the people—some of the older professors, some of the aurors, some workers—it was just…I mean—

He knew some of these people! He just knew he knew them. And yet he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t be sure if he did. But there was some part of him that was saying he did. And he couldn’t figure out what to believe. And it was at this time that he figured that he could use a helping hand—or at the very least advice on how to figure this out himself.

Neville was the first person that crossed his mind as the Ravenclaw head walked across the grounds and towards the greenhouses where the other had just finished a class within the last half hour. The Herbology professor was a very knowledgeable man and he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who was going to babbling things to everyone or the kind of person who was going to think he was crazy. Or maybe he would. But at the very least – even if he couldn’t offer any help at all…he would listen. He hoped. Maybe. He couldn’t be sure. But hey he could ask right? The worst he could hear was no he supposed. And if that happened –he would go back to his old methods of hammering it out himself.

It was as simple as that.

He walked past greenhouses one and two and right away he knew he wasn’t in the buildings because the doors were locked but as he passed greenhouse three he saw the door open and hear a plant…growling? He walked in seeing the other tending to a plant of some kind (Herbology had never been Zach’s strongest suit – even when he was in school )and Zach let the other teacher concentrate as he tended to the plant and as the other finished – it was then Zach cleared his throat softly to let the other know he wasn’t by himself (or maybe he already knew that but hadn’t said anything).

”I was wondering if you had a free moment?”

Words: 684
ISO: @superluigi64

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Dragon lilies were temperamental little flowers with a penchant for biting. They also produced a strange chemical that ignited on contact with the air, allowing them to breathe fire. The diluted form of this chemical was one of the ingredients of the Pepperup Potion, which saved wizards from basically anything relating to low temperatures and coldness. They were only a fifth-year plant, since dragonhide gloves were more than adequate to block their fire and their fangs, but they were still tricky to deal with. And they really did not like pruning. So he’d gone down the line, grabbing the lilies around their mouths and holding them while he cleared off the dead or dying leaves, cutting the buds and stems that were sprouting (the lilies had a tendency to fight with each other when two flowers grew from the same plant), and making sure they were healthy. The last one was quite large, and continued its angry growling throughout the process.

Finally finished, Neville pocketed the small shears he’d bee using, then released the plant and stepped back, keeping his gloved hands in front to ward of the retaliatory jet to flames. Luckily, the lilies’ effective range was only a couple of feet. The Herbology professor pulled his gloves off, rolling his shoulders. “I was wondering if you had a free moment?” Neville looked over—Professor Eielson? He knew someone had come in, but it was usually a student that came out here to see him. Professors rarely sought him out, since he was easier to just catch in the Great Hal at mealtime. Must be something important, then. “Of course, Professor. Would you prefer to talk here or go to my office?” Neville’s office, in the back of Greenhouse One, had a full suite of defensive magics set up, the same setup used on the home offices of every senior Auror and the Auror office at the Ministry itself. It was impossible to spy on him in his office. In the meantime, Neville flicked his wand, sending the potted dragon lilies flying back to their place in the greenhouse.

OoC: omg so short Dx sorry :<

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Zach soon recognized the plant as if gave off a comparatively weak blast of fire. Oh yeah those were dragon lilies. Hah! How could he forget those things? He remembered how it never failed -- even with his dragon hide gloves on ... the plants would always burn him in some way form or fashion. He got to know the one nurse at the hospital rather well much to the older woman's chagrin. He always seemed to get it on his arms or the face if he remembered correctly (a mental wince as he actually remembered one of those misadventures). He just shook his head -- glad that he didn't have to deal with plants anymore in his particular class. He was perfectly content with teaching an indoor class about the things that he knew very well.

He saw the other turn his attention towards him -- as the plant gave off one last little growl before going quiet. "Still as temperamental as ever aren't they?" he commented on the flowers tendencies to be downright crabby. The other seemed a bit surprised to see him there...and well Zach couldn't blame him. He wasn't one to outwardly seek--well anyone in general really. He was very much a teacher who kept to himself. And so yeah it was a bit out of the ordinary for him to want to walk all the way out here to talk to someone. But this was important—for him he supposed. And if the other could help then he would be really grateful for that right now.

"Here is okay.” Zach said as the other asked him if he would prefer to speak here or in the office. For starters there was no one around cept for the plants and he was sure that they weren’t going to be telling anyone anything and second of all—he was already a little nervous about asking the other this and he didn’t want to give the second guessing part of his nature any chance to rear its ugly head. And so that was that. Best get to the point. This was not the time to be wishy washy. And so here goes,

”I was just wondering if you had any knowledge about reversing memory charms or if you know someone that does?”

Words: 385

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“Still as temperamental as ever aren't they?" Neville nodded, smiling slightly at his beloved plants. “Entirely untameable.” There were few things in life that made him happier than tending to his gardens. His family. His friends. Not having to fight. That was about it, really. Even the gardens at Longbottom Hill, which were designed to viciously murder any attackers, made him happy when he took care of them. Yep...life was good. Or at least, it had been, up until the murders started. Objectively, Neville knew that the peace couldn't last forever. And a small part of him wished it had waited; he was long tired of war. But that was only his desire. His duty, which was much more important to him and a much bigger part of his mind, was actually glad. If it had to start up again...if someone else wanted to go for a bite at the magic apple...then now was possibly the best time. Despite the new doormat of a Minister, those who fought in the last war were still around. They were leaders, respected and connected. And most importantly, they were still in their prime and entirely unafraid to fight again when the time came. Dumbledore's Army—now the Order of the Phoenix—had stood tall in the face of subversion, kidnappings, and the subtle fear of not knowing who to trust. That which allowed Lord Voldemort to gain his foothold did not exist among the leaders of today.

At least...Neville hoped it didn't.

Eielson was okay with talking in the greenhouse, but he seemed nervous. Must be a sensitive subject then. After only a moment though, he came out with his question—Memory Charms. Aha. Neville considered this for a moment. He was quite skilled at Charms himself, but Eielson was the professor for a reason. He doubted he could tell the man anything he didn't know. But...that didn't mean he had no options. “I see. As you're no doubt aware, the only surefire way to break a Memory Charm without damaging the person's mind is to kill the caster. However...I've seen several partial options.” The former Gryffindor walked over to one of the tables, Summoning two bottles of butterbeer to him from the back. He set one down for the head of Ravenclaw, tapped his own to heat it up (he much preferred it warm), and popped the top, taking a generous drink of it while he collected his thoughts.

“Like any other charm, a Memory Charm doesn't alter what its target is, merely what its target does. In this case, of course, it cuts off access to the memory. But cutting off access to a memory completely is impossible. The memory will always stay attached to the mind in some way unless physically extracted. And breaking the charm can be done if you can find the point of attachment. It could be the sight of something in the memory—a face. It could be hearing the name, or smelling a specific scent, or tasting the right food. It could even be as simple as thinking about something that connects to the charmed memory. Finding the memory this way wipes the charm out without damage, but, of course, there's no real way of knowing the connection without stumbling upon it. I have, in the past, also seen Obliviators attempt to cleanse memories that have been charmed. The owner of the memory will pull it out, place it in the Pensieve, and the Obliviators will attempt to break the charm. This has no risk for the mental health of the subject, but the chance of damaging the memory itself beyond recovery is high.”

Neville downed more of the butterbeer in his hand, eying his fellow Professor as he did so. “Did you remember something...?”

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Of course Zach knew all of this. He wasn't the charms professor for nothing after all. Memory charms were actually one of the more complicated subjects he thought. He didn't necessarily teach the spells themselves as much as he taught the spells to be used to defense of those memory charms. Or the best way to avoid them all together as some of those charms could not be blocked. He knew all the ins and outs of those charms as he had spent more than his fair share of time (free time that was—he didn’t let it get in the way of his job of course) researching and looking up charms and counter charms and whatever else he could find to try and help himself. Cause he wanted to do it himself. Not so much for ego or pride—it was because he didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want anyone else to know about it. He didn’t want to be viewed any differently just because his mind was a bit strange (and wasn’t that the truth?). But that was just it--he himself could not do this. And as much as he tried to fight the fact that he needed a helping hand--the fact of the matter remained...he needed help.

Thus why he was here.

He took the butterbeer the other offered him with a nod of thanks (his mind was going in so many different directions at this point, he wasn't sure if he trusted himself to say much more than he had to). He himself did not care if it was warm or cold and so he simply popped the top and took a sip (or three) as he waited for the other to finished talking. He had heard of those other options but he had never really invested in them as much. Why? Well--he wasn't sure why he hadn’t really looked into it. It made total sense of course—what he was saying. But – he still didn’t think about it. It was one of those things that made him wished he had thought about swallowing his pride and talking to someone about it sooner than this.

The other asked if he had remembered something and Zach had to laugh slightly. Didn’t he wish? But alas it was not that simple,

"It’s---more complicated than that..." Zach said softly with a frown. He had figured that he was going to have to explain it more than just that. But it didn’t mean that he really wished to any more then he already had (which wasn’t much to start with)—but if he was going to help, then Neville had to know the whole story. That was what his more logical side was telling him and of course that was right,

"To make a long story as short as possible, during the last war I was held hostage by a group of death eaters. They tried using memory charms on me to make me forget the people I knew. They thought it would make it easier to get me to join them or whatever. Clearly it didn’t work…but those charms really skewed my perception of who I think I know and don’t know. And its…frustrating to look at someone and not be able to make that connection in my head. Specially people who I’ve found out later were family members. And all this time I’ve been trying to figure it out myself and – I can’t. I could use a hand here. And I ask you because well—let’s be honest, you seem to be the least likely person to think I was crazy.” he said with a shrug. Well there it was. His spiel. What the other did with it was up to him. Whether he helped him or not was up to him. Whether he looked at him different or not was up to him. But at least he had been honest. And that was all that mattered…



Words: 666
ISO: @superluigi64

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“It’s—more complicated than that...”

Was it ever less complicated than that? Not in Neville’s experience. But he said nothing, instead choosing to drain the bottle in his hand while his fellow teacher marshaled his thoughts and what he needed to share. Neville often felt much older than he really was—after all, by the time he was 18, he’d crammed more experiences into his life than most wizards ever did. He doubted he could compete with the Headmaster in terms of overall life experience…however, for some reason, Neville was considered more approachable by most people. Not that he minded. If the things he’d learned through experience could help others, he was only too happy to share what he could. But Zachary’s next words shocked Neville, as he talked about the Death Eater trying to modify his memories, make him forget that he wasn’t a bad guy, that he had attachments outside of the Death Eaters. His mind reeled with the implications. Apparently, the Imperius Curse wasn’t good enough. Some people could throw it off, most developed immunity to it over time. And that wasn’t good enough for them, was it? They wanted a more permanent method of control.

Many people underestimated Neville’s physical strength. Particularly in his robes, he looked more overweight than anything. But few things kept you in shape or gave you physical strength like gardening without magic. As a child, Neville had gardened by hand partly out of personal preference, partly because he feared what his magic could do if he messed up. That fear had vanished with age and confidence, but Neville still did most of his gardening by hand. He loved the feel of dirt on his fingers, the soft, nearly imperceptible response of the plants to his touch, the happy tiredness that followed a long day of work. So now, in his early forties, when many witches and wizards were beginning to go to seed, letting their magic work for them, Neville was still in his physical prime. His strength became apparent when the glass bottle in his hand cracked and shattered, glass shards burying themselves into his fingers and cascading to the ground. Neville hardly noticed. Death Eaters messing with people’s minds was, to put it mildly, a sore spot for the former Gryffindor.

Finally, he held his hand up, looking it over with the professional eye of an Auror used to dealing with injuries. One wave of his wand Vanished the glass shards in his hand. A second wave cleared the loamy dirt beneath of glass. Then he turned and started heading toward the back of the greenhouse, motioning for Professor Eielson to follow. “A quarter of a century passed and still the Death Eaters’ damage persists. Bloody animals.” He stalked around and through the most dangerous plants at Hogwarts, many of them shying away from the palpable anger emanating from the master of the greenhouses. Finally, he reached the back corner of the greenhouse, where a brownish bush was separated from the other plants by several feet. The air above the dittany bush shimmered with flammable fumes. Without hesitating, Neville thrust his shredded hand into the fumes, allowing his wounds to soak up the vapors emanating from the plant. The wounds began to visibly knit themselves back together.

Neville had considered another course of action in his mind. “I’m not sure if you’re aware or not, Zach, but I was an Auror before I took the position of Herbology professor here. I remember a technique we were forced to use when time was of the essence and we needed information from a Death Eater who had taken the antidote for Veritaserum. The technique involved three Obliviators and two Aurors. It was quite complex and difficult, but in essence, the Obliviators pulled and filtered a sped-up replay of the suspect’s memories while the Aurors viewed the memories, looking for the information needed. It ended up saving lives, but the point is, if we can arrange it, we might be able to perform the same technique with you viewing your own memories. I know Death Eaters. They’ll leave as few trails as possible. There’s only one route to your memories. Only one thing will unlock the first memory. And that memory will contain the locks for the next memories, and so on. It’s a long shot, and sifting through…Merlin, you’re my age, so 17 years at the least. 17 years of memories can’t be done in a single sitting. It could be years before we stumble upon the right memory, even with this method. But if you want to try, I will contact Harry and see if he can arrange something.”

He paused for a moment, scratching his chin with the tip of his wand in thought, as his hand continued knitting itself back together. “There’s also Hermione Weasley. If there’s one person that knows more than you about Charms, it would be her. She may have an answer, and if she doesn’t, I guarantee she’ll be annoyed enough at not having an answer to go and find one if it exists. Both of them can be trusted with your secret. But, of course, the decision is up to you. I am afraid that what I personally can do for you on my own is limited, although I can quickly and easily procure any ingredients for potions you wish to try.” He turned to look at the head of Ravenclaw House. There was no pity in Neville’s eyes, no sorrow or sadness—merely a fierce understanding and smoldering anger.