Basilisk Eyes

Chapter 102: Burrowing

"Couldn't we go into the garden?" Neville asked.

"Sure, it's also secure. Let's do that. I'll request that our lunch be sent up and I'll join you in a moment," Healer Jordan agreed. "Neville, you'll keep an eye on your mum—make sure she doesn't nibble on anything dangerous?"

"Yes, Healer Jordan," Neville said.

They all walked through Healer Jordan's office to the Potions garden.

Harry heard Alice gasp.

"Mum?" Neville asked.

"Is she okay?" Harry asked.

"She looks almost happy," Neville said in a hushed voice.

"She likes it?"

"Yeah."

"Here, let's get her settled by the plants. These are safe. I'll transfigure this chair into something more comfortable for her," Mrs. Longbottom said.

Harry heard the rickety wrought iron chair by the fountain scrape against the stone and then settle on the ground close to them, then he heard a pop and a larger sounding piece of furniture hit the ground as if it had jumped. It was no longer wrought iron—the feet that hit the stones sounded wooden. He reached out his hand in the direction of the sound and found the velvety surface punctuated with deep divots with brass tack navels; he imagined an overstuffed chaise lounge. His imagination even supplied a color—a deep and vivid purple.

"Here, Alice dear, sit here. That's right. Let's make sure you're comfortable. Oh, don't pick the plants. Neville, make sure she doesn't kill all their plants. Here's a blanket. Help me tuck in her legs." Neville's Gran fussed around Alice.

Harry heard a pop and guessed it was a conjured blanket.

Harry ran his hands over the back of the velvet chaise until his fingers contacted Alice's wispy hair scattered across the back and he pulled back. He found the stone wall around the garden and sat down on it. He listened to Neville scurrying around at his Gran's instructions as he traced the contour of a leaf between his thumb and index finger—mint of some sort, he decided, more from the sharp fragrance than from the almost heart-shaped leaf.

Healer Jordan returned to the garden and transfigured the small table into a larger one with extra chairs so that they could eat the lunch that popped into existence shortly afterward. The aroma of the grease-soaked, breaded fish wafted by and Harry felt his belly rumble.

"Come, let's eat," Healer Jordan invited.

"Harry, do you want me to restore your normal appearance now?" she offered as Harry stood up and navigated around the chaise to walk toward the table.

"Yes, please. Especially my trainers—these shoes are pinching my toes," he said with relief as she removed the transfigurations on his body and clothes.

"So, Harry Potter is here, after all?" Mrs. Longbottom queried. "Why the ruse?"

"We are trying to keep Harry safe," Healer Jordan said.

"Hrumph. That witch from the Daily Prophet harassed us on Thursday at St. Mungo's, trying to get us to spill the beans on Harry, but she didn't get a single seed from us. No, we're not going to be the hapless fools who plant that vine," Mrs. Longbottom opined.

"Thank you for fending her off. Did you report her to the staff at St. Mungo's?" Healer Jordan asked.

"Yes, I sent howlers to both the Daily Prophet and St. Mungo's," she huffed.

"Good. They need to know that there are others who have taken issue with their behavior. What did she want to know?" Healer Jordan asked.

"She had heard that he had been injured in the dungeons at Hogwarts by the Basilisk and thought he was at St. Mungo's. No doubt she's heard rumors from other students," Mrs. Longbottom said.