Yu Yu Hakusho Fan Fiction ❯ Power In Many Forms ❯ Searching ( Chapter 2 )

<b>Power in Many Forms</b>

Word Count: 2,832 (not counting the Disclaimer and Notes)

 

<b>Disclaimer: YuYu Hakusho, Inuyasha, Harry Potter, and Anita Blake are not mine; they belong to their respective creators. I hold no claim on them; just minor original characters.</b>

 

<i>Author's Notes: This story takes place after a rather uneventful sixth year for Harry and company. Voldemort did the yearly `try to kill Potter' thing and failed, again. So we start off with everyone's summer break. It will take quite a while before Harry makes an appearance because this part focuses on someone else. ^^; We'll see Harry in a couple of months.</i>

 

XXX

 

Neville's breath caught in his throat, as he cursed his clumsiness. The marks on his back were still tender from the lashing he'd received earlier in the week and now pain laced through them due to his falling down to the floor, yet again. What was it the adults had always told him as a child? With age came grace and responsibility. He snorted to himself as he climbed back to his feet. He'd be seventeen soon, and responsibility aside he really should have grown out of his cursed klutziness. But to his despair he still managed to trip over thin air. And the lashing Gram had given him did nothing but make his movements even more awkward.

 

Neville sighed and went back to his closet, he still had some packing to do and he didn't want to anger his Grandmother by dawdling, though a part of him wasn't sure it cared what she said anymore. As he grabbed some more shirts and trousers his thoughts drifted to the confrontation he'd had with the old woman a few days before, and the letter that had started it all.

 

~

 

He had just come in from their garden, tired but happily covered in dirt from his hours of fiddling with his beloved plants. His Grandmother had been waiting for him in the kitchen, her face pinched and ruddy with anger. In her hand she had held a piece of parchment, and she'd looked at him coldly.

 

More than a little confused, his brow furrowed and he'd tilted his head in silent wonder, clueless as to what might have been the matter. Then he could smell it, just the tiniest hint of cologne emitted from the parchment. It was a scent he recognized, and he gulped as a small knot of dread settled in his stomach.

 

“Oh shite.” He murmured, and the old woman's eyes nearly flashed with disgust.

 

“What is the meaning of this Boy?” Gram only called him boy when he'd done something really bad. Like that time he'd accidentally turned the basement into a jungle…how was he supposed to know the bloody weed would react like that to muggle fertilizer. “Well?”

 

“Um…it's a…” Neville wasn't sure what to say. Really, what were you supposed to tell your Grandmother when someone sends you a love letter? And it wasn't just any someone either, it had to be a besotted Hufflepuff <i>boy</i> a couple of classes behind him.

 

“Do you have an explanation or don't you?”

 

In a panic his words rushed out…he never was good with confronting her. “Really Gram, it's completely one-sided, he's just a child with a crush. I'm more interested in girls and fellows my age and--“

 

<b>“Neville Longbottom!”</b>

 

<i>Double Shite.</i> How stupid could he be, letting on that he liked boys, things like that were not accepted within the Magic Community. Just his luck the Hufflepuff that fancied him was Muggle Born and didn't know that little tidbit of information.

 

“You are <i>not</i> to contact this boy.”

 

“Yes Grandmother.”

 

“You will never again speak of such vulgar activities.”

 

He blinked. <i>Activities?</i> He hadn't done anything with anybody, what was she talking about? Didn't she know that he was least likely in all of Hogwarts to find someone <i>willing</i> to do anything with him? Well now that wasn't quite true what with the little infatuated boy writing to him now was it? But still, there was no one else that was even remotely interested in him…of either gender. Except maybe a hungry Thestral…those horses were creepy.

 

“Do you understand me?”

 

Neville stared at her but managed shake himself out of his thoughts. “But—“

 

“Quiet! You will <i>cease</i> to think like <i>this</i>. Such thoughts are wrong, and forbidden.” Again he blinked, but his eyes grew wide in utter disbelief as he watched her tear the letter to pieces.

 

“R-really Gram, the boy didn't know. He's from a M-muggle family, and Muggles aren't so hung up about such things.” He winced at the glare she threw at him, as if it were actually piercing his skin. Gram was much scarier than any of Professor Hagrid's pets.

 

“Come here.”

 

~

 

Neville drifted passed the memory of the lashing that had followed and while it had not broken the skin it had left many angry red whelps on his back. He had dutifully kept his mouth shut during his punishment; after all, he didn't want it to happen again. And he never said another word about the boy or the letter or anything that might set the old woman off again.

 

For three days he avoided his Grandmother as if she were Professor Snape, and for three days life was peaceful.

 

Unfortunately for him, another letter had arrived that morning, which was why he was packing.

 

~

 

Gram had nearly gone ballistic and said she was throwing him out. She obviously wasn't thinking because it certainly wasn't his fault the boy had written another letter professing his love. He'd have been glad to write the boy back and let him know not to write any more letters, but the old woman had forbidden him from using their owl. But he was used to being blamed for things, and it wasn't until she brought his mother up in her ranting that he stopped her.

 

She'd continued growling that no blood of hers could possibly be so corrupt. That obviously her daughter-in-law had been sleeping around because no Longbottom could be a faggot.

 

And for the first time Neville stood his ground against her, his body shaking with barely restrained fury as he told the old woman not to say such things about his Mother, and that the old bag could just go to hell. And no she wasn't going to throw him out; because he was leaving on his own.

 

Her eyes had widened in shock at first, but it soon turned to fear at his outburst, and she had taken several steps back. Then her screams of “Monster!” “Demon!” and other names had echoed through the house. Neville had turned his sore back on her and left the room, just barely catching a glimpse of his reflection as he passed a mirror.

 

~

 

So now here he was, packing what he could, eager to get away from the crazy old woman. Honestly, all he had done was defend his Mum's honor and his Grandmother went psychotic. She had never lost it like that before. Always in the past she had ranted a little, but never like what he had witnessed earlier.

 

Suddenly he paused in the middle of his packing; the severity of the situation finally hit him like an angry Hippogriph. Gram had kicked him out, no matter that he'd screamed back at her saying that he didn't care, that he would leave on his own. But where would he go? She would probably send owls to everyone so that the few relatives he had would turn him away to stay in the old woman's good graces.

 

The young man sat on his bed, perched on the edge of the mattress. He needed to think of a place to go…he wasn't seventeen yet and wouldn't be for a couple of months. That was just the icing on the cake because if someone jumped him he wouldn't be able to defend himself because of that stupid law that forbade under aged use of magic. And where the bloody hell was an underage wizard supposed to go when his legal guardian kicked him out?

 

A sigh escaped him, Gran's brother was out. Ever since his Great Uncle had dropped him out of a third story window Neville had made sure he was never alone with the senile old man.

 

No other relative had ever been very fond of him, nor were they crazy enough to upset Gram. He wasn't close enough to anyone at school to suddenly drop in and impose. Oh, Harry wouldn't have minded the company but it was common knowledge in their dorm that Harry's muggle relatives considered anything not muggle to be an abomination. “Damn.”

 

While glowering at the hideous flower print carpet his Grandmother insisted gave the house a cozy nature, Neville desperately rummaged through his mind. Unfortunately he came up with nothing, at least nothing rational, and while his mind was busy coming up with ridiculous schemes that would make the Weasley Twins proud a sense of panic settled in and kept getting stronger. And finally he realized what was really bothering him.

 

His parents. Would she be able to keep him from visiting his parents at St. Mungo's? His <i>mother!</i> Gram had accused his mother of adultery and wanted him gone. If she was irrational enough to kick him out, what would she do to his mother? Did she really believe that his mother had been unfaithful? His Mother was incapacitated, totally helpless and unable to defend herself.

 

Then he knew where he needed to go, he had to get to his mother before Gram did…just in case the old woman really had gone crazy.

 

xxx

 

Getting into St. Mungo's had been fairly easy, the illusion the Wizard's had hiding it gave off a rather obvious signal that any of them could have sensed. Kuwabara and Hiei had shared a look of disdain as such a pathetic lack of security. A place where wounded were kept should be safe and well watched. This place was neither.

 

It was even easier to get into the ward where the Longbottoms were. There had been a few questioning looks but no one stopped them. Botan seemed responsible for that. Her bright smile and cheerful disposition seemed to put everyone they passed at ease, rather ironic considering she was a spirit guide.

 

Hiei and Kuwabara were more somber, well Hiei just glared at everything simply because he'd rather be off somewhere doing wicked things to Botan and Kuwabara. Kuwabara however seemed to take everything in with a critical eye, though the gleam of curiosity sparkled within his gaze.

 

When they arrived at the room Kurama had paused, an unusual sense of nervousness taking hold of him. The nurse at the main desk on this floor had looked at him in sympathy when he'd said he'd come to see the Longbottoms. It didn't bode well with whatever he was about to face on the other side of the door.

 

“Standing in the hall after coming all this way is pointless Kurama.” Hiei muttered.

 

“Of course, you're right Hiei.” And with that he opened the door.

 

xxx

 

It took some doing, but Neville finally managed to get to St. Mungo's. Some doing included sneaking out of the house, he wasn't ready for another confrontation with the crazy old woman, and actually getting there was an odd experience. Everyone who recognized him wanted to know what he was doing without his Grandmother. For heaven's sake, he was nearly seventeen; he didn't need the old woman to hold his hand everywhere he went. But it really didn't surprise him, for he had hardly been allowed anywhere without her company. The smothering old bag, and he felt no shame in thinking of her as such, especially not after what had happened earlier.

 

The Hospital was as it always was, sort of empty feeling, it was his least favorite place to be.

 

He'd just passed the nurse's desk on his parent's floor when the attendant stopped him.

 

“Your parents are certainly popular today.”

 

“What?” Neville looked at the older man in confusion.

 

“Four of your relatives are visiting them right now. I've never seen them before, and I don't know about the other's but the redhead had an odd accent. He said something about being very distantly related. Well, enjoy your visit Mr. Longbottom.”

 

The attendant left Neville gaping in the middle of the hallway. <i>What the bloody hell is going on?</i> As far as he knew none of Gram's relatives had red hair. Apprehension ran through him as he shook himself and continued his trek to his parent's room.

 

The door was closed, not that that would mean anything. It was usually closed to prevent his Mum from wandering around. Slowly he slid his wand out of his sleeve. Though he knew using it would break a law or two he was willing to risk it for his parents. They'd been through enough and needed to be left alone. And with a sort of calm anger, like the calm before a storm he opened the door.

 

xxx

 

Kurama stared at the empty gaze of his granddaughter. Intently he searched for something, anything, hoping to find just a spark of awareness. But there was nothing, her expression was empty. His heart broke when she handed him a crumpled gum wrapper. He barely managed to whisper a thank you.

 

With an equally broken smile he embraced her, drew her into his arms and hugged her tightly. This shell of a person was his granddaughter, and he allowed a tear to trickle down and mingle with her lifeless white hair.

 

He'd been told her name was Alice Longbottom, and that she and her husband Frank had been driven insane due to an unforgivable curse. A curse that caused the worst unimaginable pain, a curse that was used for torture.

 

Alice made a strange sound and managed to pat his arm, her unseeing eyes blank and empty as marbles.

 

“Kurama, I am so sorry.” Botan whispered from where she huddled against Kuwabara. She could not begin to understand the situation. Death made sense to her; it was part of her existence. But the evidence of torment left behind in these two left her befuddled. Kuwabara had an arm around her waist while Hiei's hand rested on her shoulder.

 

“It's not your fault Botan. No one knew about them.” Kurama whispered, his hand still running through Alice's dead hair. He looked at Frank who remained still and unseeing in a chair, a trail of drool running down his chin. Gently he pulled a few tissues from a box and reached over to pat the trail dry.

 

“I thought Alice was full demon.” Kuwabara muttered. “How could this have happened?”

 

“Use your sight Kazuma.” Hiei murmured, leaning against his lovers. “What do you feel?”

 

Kuwabara focused his gaze on Alice and frowned. “A seal?”

 

“Yes.” Kurama sighed. “The family that kept her must have known what she was and sealed her power away so that they could raise her as a human.” He winced in sympathy, having one's truest abilities locked away was very uncomfortable. His toddler years had been horrible, full of stumbling and scraped knees.

 

He grabbed a few more tissues and dried Frank's chin again, the man was lucky he hadn't died of dehydration…not that anything was lucky about the situation. Humans could be horrible creatures. Most demons would never leave their enemy in such a state; they'd kill them out of pity before such a stage of mental deterioration occurred.

 

“What do you want to do Kurama?” Botan's voice was soft, none her usual mirth evident.

 

“I don't know.” He sighed again and sat back to look forlornly at his granddaughter and her husband.

 

He idly wondered if moving them somewhere would make a difference. They obviously couldn't express what they wanted; they were too far gone for that. But he would feel better knowing they were close by. Perhaps he could convince Koenma to set up a room and round the clock care for them in Reikai. Not that Koenma would need much convincing, the junior lord of the dead had already given his word that he would do whatever he could for Kurama.

 

The kindness Koenma had shown him made him ache. In all his long existence he'd never met anyone like the Prince of Reikai. He had no idea what he was going to do, for the first time in a long time he felt lost, a sense of helplessness falling over him.

 

“Kurama.” Kuwabara shifted as he spoke, obviously uncomfortable his friend's behavior. He'd never seen Kurama act this way.

 

“Yes Kuwabara?”

 

Kuwabara glanced towards the closed door and Hiei did the same. “Think fast fox, someone's here.”

 

Kurama held Alice's thin hands in his, and merely directed his gaze toward the door as it opened ever so slowly. Whoever their visitor was, was being very careful; as if they knew the Longbottoms were not alone.

 

He wasn't sure what he was expecting to see once the door fully opened, but whatever it was, it was not a teenage boy standing in the doorway. He never would have thought of such a thing.

 

The boy, or young man rather, glared at him fiercely as he took a step forward, his body rigid and ready for a fight. In his hand he held a stick and moved to point it at him. But what surprised them all beyond belief were the words that left his mouth.

 

“Get the hell away from my Mum.”

 

XXX