Memory Charm Most Foul

[porphyria at mindspring.com]

No: HPFGUIDX 36840

Porphyria sits on a blanket on the shoreline, waiting for the imminent arrival of the Fourth Man Hovercraft. The sun is pinkening the sky over the choppy waves. She's been knocking back shots of Eloise's scotch all afternoon because Eloise is *too darn nice* to say anything about it, and the play of light on the clouds and whitecaps is slowly but steadily blurring. 

She's pondering the variety of Still Life with Memory Charm replies, fruit of the waning day's posts. She thinks about how Dicentra said what she was trying to say about 'forgetting the past' as a thematic problem, only Dicentra said it a thousand times better. She considers that Tabouli could be right to suggest Neville's problems are all the result of his own entirely non-magical act of repression. And mostly she muses about how...

Eileen is my New Best Friend. 

Both for the wonderful Livian Rome conceit, which I think is spot on, and for quoting in its entirety my very beloved poem. (I do cite Browning's inspiration in post 34740.) How can I repay you for the sacrifice of a crashed browser! I'll have to swallow hot coals to restore my honor.

Now, if I were a lot more sober, I'd say that the first half of Eileen's post is really the way JKR intends it. Gran is the figure of honor, nobility and righteous vengeance (as is Snape), the Longbottoms really want Neville to be an auror, and he in turn sees Gran and Snape as symbols of the violence-begets-violence cycle he does not want to perpetuate ("I don't want more trouble"). And maybe he will be the next Herbology Professor. 

However, since I'm getting progressively more soused I thought I'd give my 'murder most foul' theory a shot, again with thanks to Eileen for the encouragement.  

<Guiltily eyes the now half-empty bottle of Laphroaig, but then figures it's disappearance will give her an excuse to replace it with a bottle of Lagavulin next time.>

That and I'm still smarting from a most peculiar conversation with Elkins in which she said to me:

<<
That you give the impression of being so, er, so...so...

So canonically pure.
>>

Heh heh. Yeah. OK then. 

Actually, SpecFic (yes, that's speculative fiction) is not my specialty, it's Elkins' in fact, and Eileen has already gotten the drop on this plotline, but here it goes:

Granny Longbottom -- should we just call her Gertrude? Anyway, Gran's husband the patriarch Francis J. Longbottom died shortly after the fall of Voldemort and he bequeathed the entirety of his formidable estate to his beloved and very heroic son Frank. This infuriated Gran to no end. She went through all sorts of schemes and litigations to get a share of the property, both for herself and her innumerable siblings, but to no avail. Finally in the midst of her fevered supplications she came upon the one man who seemed powerful enough to help her, and strangely willing as well. Lucius Malfoy. 

Lucius, who was more slippery in those days, had innumerable connections at the MoM, money, influence, chilly aristocratic good looks, yadda yadda yadda. Gran knew about his nasty reputation, but there'd never be a need to tell anyone about a teensy little alliance with such a powerful pureblood. She could justify accepting a favor or two. And Lucius? He seemed only to eager to be of help, indeed the very second he sensed a whiff of unrequited rapacity emanating from her fox fur stoles.

Well, they formed an alliance all right. You can imagine the details. Lucius started making little midnight visits to her wing of the Longbottom mansion. Starting making them near every night. So often he finally got her to give him the counter-curses to all the protections guarding the doorways. Now Gran should have known better, but she was a little swept away. And still feeling lonely and rebuffed from the death of her ungrateful husband. And while the Longbottoms were a proud old wizarding family, they couldn't hold a Bluebell flame to the Malfoys. And besides, Lucius was so handsome and <blush> so much *younger* than she was. By like a decade or two. But who's counting decades when you live to 150?

Well this went on for some time before he finally made her an offer. He'd take care of getting her a piece of the estate if she would only be so kind as to give him just this one little thing....

That stash. 

You know, the stash of confiscated materials that Frank was in charge of guarding, being the well-esteemed Auror he was. The stash with Voldemort's diary. And all the funky poisons. And all the cursed muggle-baiting objects. Yeah, that stash.  Frank had it locked up in a magically-expanded trunk in the wine-cellar. All Gran had to do was lead Lucius to it and let him make off with it. It was so simple. The fact that Gran actually had no idea what was in the trunk made it easier for her. Frank, meaning well, had told her it contained paperwork (parchment-work?) or some such nonsense. And since Voldemort had already fallen, she figured what harm could it do? Let Lucius have his little scheme. It was really none of her business. And he'd promised to help get her estate back in return. 

And Lucius kept his promise. He told the Lestranges how to get past all the curses protecting the Longbottom mansion. And in they came. And now Gran has legal control of the estate.

Well, little Neville, who was like two or so at the time, he was a perspicacious little boy. He knew all about Gran's special friend and he knew there were secrets and he knew it had something to do with the night that his parents' minds were destroyed before his eyes. And he willed a massive Memory Charm upon himself with all the strength he had. 

'Cause why would anyone else charm the kid? He was too little to give testimony (the testimony of thirteen year old wizards doesn't even count), and I think these Warrior Ethos types wouldn't bother to spare him. After all, he's supposed to grow up to avenge the wrongs against his parents -- isn't he?

And herein lies the problem. This is the real reason he's keeping himself back. He knows all about his parents. He visits them every holiday. He knows all about their torturers because it's a matter of public record. But why would he be so afraid of finding his power when he really doesn't have to wreak vengeance on behalf of his parents -- all the culprits are already in jail! No, his memory is self-damaged because the person he'd go ballistic upon is the person he loves more than anything in the world.

I like to believe that Gran has no idea that Neville is suffering from some sort of formal Obliviate because she's the one who sends him the Remembrall. Ah yes, that nasty little gift that tells you you've forgotten something, but not what. The thing that changes to vivid scarlet just to taunt you, scarlet like Gran's ever-present handbag, the symbol of her avaricious crime. Ah, the irony. Not to mention the fact that Draco wants it. 

Canon you say? Oh, 'cause I'm so canonically pure?

<snorts scotch all over the beach blanket>

Oh yeah. >:-)

When Harry blows up his stern, shrewish, elder female relative for disgracing his parents, he goes on the run. What alias does he use? Mmm hmm. Neville Longbottom.

When Neville has the misfortune to be robbed of his passwords by an enterprising kitty his grandmother sends him a howler. "Neville's grandmother's voice, magically magnified to a hundred times its usual volume, shrieking about how he had brought shame on the whole family." Shame for letting a Death Eater have access to his bedroom? Oh yeah. She's upset all right. She's beside herself.

And last but not least, this is the woman with a *giant friggin' stuffed vulture* teetering on the top of her hat. Hello? If this isn't a woman happy to pick the meat off the bones of her dead and disabled family, then I don't know who is. 

Oh, and where does Snape come into this? He knows. He's always known. Lucius told him. And the whole thing galls him to no end, but he's not letting anything slip. He's just waiting for Neville to finally explode when he can't repress the memory any more. Then he'll have a very good laugh, because Snape has a sick sense of humor.

As do I, I think.

~~Porphyria, quietly vowing to lay off the single malt for a while....