Pitching the Tent

"This is your campsite map," Mr. Roberts said calmly, handing Arthur Weasley a rather crumpled, folded sheet of paper.

His expression was nothing like the puzzled, complaining look he had worn moments ago. It was as if he had seen nothing at all.

Arthur Weasley took the map and led the group through the stone gate after the wizard in knickerbockers, into the campground.

Roberts merely glanced at the oddly dressed adults, a strange look in his eyes.

Once Mr. Roberts had vanished into the thick fog, the wizard in knickerbockers spoke to Arthur Weasley in a low voice.

"I swear we've cast Obliviate on him ten times already," the wizard said. He had heavy dark circles under his eyes. The Ministry of Magic had clearly been run ragged.

"Ten times? Wouldn't that damage his mind?" Hermione Granger asked in disbelief. As far as she knew, Obliviate was not an offensive spell, but it could still affect a person's memory.

Take Neville. As one of the Children of Prophecy, how could he have turned out so ordinary?

When the Dark Lord Voldemort was at large, Neville's parents, the Longbottoms, had been outstanding Aurors who openly opposed the Death Eaters and their master, Voldemort.

Later, the Death Eaters captured them, and Bellatrix Lestrange, Voldemort's most devoted admirer, tortured them until they lost their minds.

No one knew how many times they had endured the Cruciatus Curse.

Under normal circumstances, few people could withstand the Cruciatus Curse twice. It was one of the Three Unforgivable Curses.

Bella was a madwoman. She used the Cruciatus Curse on the Longbottoms over and over. If help had not arrived in time, they would surely have died from the pain.

Those events left Neville, still a young child, with terrifying memories.

To keep those memories from