Wisps of hazy light drifted through a shattered space as black as ink.
A purple projection of Shawn's Divine Sense stood in this chaotic space, where there was neither up nor down.
His eyes were grave.
These little clusters of light were just as fragmented, occasionally flashing with scenes from everyday life.
But like a malfunctioning black-and-white television, the scenes were constantly interrupted by sudden bursts of crackling static.
This was the memory space within the soul of Neville's mother, Alice Longbottom.
Shawn reached out and caught a relatively intact memory fragment. Inside was a tender scene of Neville's parents lovingly tending to him when he was born.
"Is this a mother's love? Even with her soul and memories shattered like this, her memories of her child are still so resilient."
Shawn's voice held an inexplicable wistfulness, laden with untold, tangled emotions.
Outside, Neville stood in the ward, watching expectantly as the Chief held a steady finger against his mother's forehead.
But suddenly, a slight tremor ran through the Chief's body.
Neville's anticipation turned to anxiety. He hesitated, then started forward to steady the Chief, whose eyes remained closed.
His grandmother, Augusta, caught him and held him back.
"Neville, don't move. If you trust him, you must trust him to the very end."
Both courtesy and common sense demanded that Augusta be informed before her son and daughter-in-law were treated.
So it was hardly surprising that the stern, capable old woman was present.
Neville took a deep breath and nodded firmly.
"I trust the Chief!"
Augusta was actually terribly anxious herself, but the look she gave Shawn was deeply conflicted.
The world had changed too quickly. A year ago, she would never have trusted him to treat her son and daughter-in-law.
But the changes in Neville, in England, in the