-=JKR owns all everything you recognize, Hada Najah is mine.=-

Some Distance

Comfort In The Safe Harbinger

In the ancient brownstone, Augusta Longbottom sat embroidering. It was a handsome design, asymmetrical and somewhat reminiscent of the Celtic knot-work from the old country. Studying the pattern warmly she thought perhaps she would make it into a pillow for Alice. With no little grief, Augusta remembered Alice's fervour for folk arts of any composition, shame she hasn't the presence of mind to do so now. Pausing in her needlework, the old lady considered the waste of such brilliant young people.

Executing a stitch too quickly, the floss knotted. Cursing mildly to her self, Augusta extracted the silk from the needle, rectifying the error.

Once again entranced in the methodical work, the sound of the door knocker went unheard. It wasn't until Neville looked in that she was aware of anything beyond her needlework.

“Gran, uhm, you have a visitor.” Neville asked in some puzzlement, “shall I...show her in?”

Mrs. Longbottom, was no fool, Neville's apprehension was palpable. Rising quickly, she strode purposefully toward the strangely dressed woman in the foyer.

Draped in shawls each a different colour, the woman herself was rather remarkable. The stranger's hair was a soft white with black streaks converging into one large matted deadlock. Her hair chimed a bit from the trinkets, beads and earthier adornments interspersed throughout. As Augusta moved in closer, the wild grey eyes that observed her in-turn, radiated intelligence.

Not knowing the woman's custom, Mrs. Longbottom took the stranger's hand in welcome.

“My name is Mrs. Augusta Longbottom, I don't believe we've met.” The question who are you, was implied, however, it seemed that a certain shyness came over her. “This is,” gesturing to Neville, "my grandson, Neville."

Smiling confidence she replied, “I am called, Hada Najah. I 'ave come to help you Mrs. Longbottom, protector, of the Protectors.”

Mrs. Longbottom's frozen mental state had not yet realized she was still holding the other woman's hand.

The queer look on Neville's face crested in fierce curiosity. He waved a hand toward the sitting-room in invitation. “Ms. Najah, please come this way.” Neville's soft kind voice broke his grandmother's unaccountable pause.

“Yes, I am terribly sorry, do.” Neville's grandmother regained some of her self-possession had Neville bring refreshment in “presently.”

Something about the woman conjured thoughts of summer, Augusta might have put it down to her Afro-Celt accent. But no it was more likely the scent she wore.

Hada glanced about the sitting-room complimenting Augusta on décor, when Hada's eyes lighted on Mrs. Longbottom's needlework. Extending what Augusta must assume was her left hand, as it was at the end of her left arm. Hada's hand was so badly twisted and obviously crippled that Mrs. Longbottom couldn't decide if the younger woman had too many fingers or not enough.

Augusta was quieted by shocked amazement, not by the deformed hand, but the expression of fright and incredulity etching her beautiful brown features.

The younger woman mumbled something that Neville and his Gran found unintelligible. “Sorry, I didn't understand you dear.” Suggested Mrs. Longbottom.

“Obi,” Ms. Najah offered. She gently picked up the frame and traced the design with a cautious finger, all the while Neville and Augusta watched transfixed. “This be obeah, one of change. This obi gonna bring change.”

“Obi?” Mrs. Longbottom inquired.

“Like spirit, but not like people's, like you think,” she waved an airy hand in demonstration. “Sun, and Sky, and all da eart'.”

“I dreamed that pattern and decided to make a pillow of it to give my daughter-in-law.” Mrs. Longbottom was strangely aware that she was sharing much more than was her custom.

Hada looked thoughtful while shaking her head knowingly, “she needs change, 'tis true. Could be obi, gonna bring her dat. Maybe obeah come to you, 'cause you know who it be for. Then maybe not, hard to say.” Holding her hands one over the other, Hada looked squarely at Augusta and Neville. “Take care before using the obeah one, change fills the world and has many incarnations."

Frantically Mrs. Longbottom tried to think of a suitable change of subject. Seizing on inspiration, she inquired earnestly, “have you come a long way?”

“Yes, but that's no matter. White witches are to go out to work and help people find peace. Do the good work.” She shifted comfortably, the colourful skirt shifted revealing pale scars on her legs.

“How am I to use this?” Glancing respectfully at the design, Augusta amended, “for change, I mean.”

“In you magical tradition, I understand you have ways to the divine, you can do dat, 'course you can wait 'til the obi seize you. This is best, very strong, very powerful.” Hada smiled at Augusta. She placed a hand on the older woman's, “you strong, you gon' be irie.” Her pleasant expression mutated into one of cautious curiosity, “what change you be wantin' for the wife of your son?”

Neville sucked in a breath. Augusta crumpled just a bit. Neville stepped in, taking a chance. “That would depend, this obeah, can it be used for two people?”

Hada paused in thought. “I think maybe you could say this gifted obi is finite,” holding up a finger in illustration. "Take a half finger and place it where there is none. Provided the finger still works, each part of the finger will never be as useful as a whole finger, you see."

“So the strength diminishes?” Augusta asked tremulously.

“Does not everything?” Mrs. Longbottom took Hada's point. “All things over distance and time, except love.” Ms. Najah finished simply.

Neville was at once engaged in sipping his cold tea and furiously calculating what Hada's words could mean. Stimulated with possibility Neville spoke up, “Ms. Najah you said this obi was strong and powerful, but not unlimited, but that love is in essence?”

Hada nodded.

Feeling buttressed by his conclusions he gestured as he began again. “So, is it possible to use love to make it more powerful, thereby affecting a greater change?”

Ms. Najah, considered the question and it's likelihood. “It seems reasonable enough, though I can't foresee anyone needing that much change." She looked slightly amused.

Neville's thoughts crested and swelled, “Excuse us please Ms. Najah we will be right back,” Neville uncharacteristically tugged on his Gran's sleeve for her to follow him.

Neville was in earnest, this stranger positively exuded sincerity and openness. He, thought in order for Hada to properly assess the situation, Hada should meet his parents. Mrs. Longbottom wanted to say no, seeing Neville overwhelmed with such hope she acquiesced.

While Neville and his Gran conferred, Hada taken her ease walking around the room. Gravitating to the floor length window, studying her own reflection as much as the garden. From her view she couldn't see how anyone could traverse it, crowded as it was. It appeared very orderly and well maintained.

“Would you like to go the garden?” Neville offered looking on the tranquil space.

Hada smiled toothily, “I would. Thank you.” Neville offered her a hand, leading her out into the warm sunshine.

“They are making love.” Inhaling the complex scent of the garden.

Neville stared for a moment, “I'm sorry, what?”

She indicated the strength of the pollen. “Is this your work?” Still holding her hand Neville lead her along the winding path. The path could not be seen, but Neville knew it well enough.

“I hope you don't mind being squeezed by the plants. They grow like mad, and I don't have the heart to prude them.” He brushed his hand across the top of a hyssop shrub, enjoying the astringent scent. He smiled ruefully.

“No, I don't mind. This has magic, strong magic.” She cocked her head in inquiry. “You don't use them, why don't you employ them in your magic?”

“I,” he paused. This was venturing into uncomfortable territory, though he felt he should continue. “I can't use them properly. I grow them for those who can.”

“That is nonsense, what you say, “can't.” That is fear, what I'm hearing with these two ears.” Neville was somewhat taken aback by her words, but more so by the truth of them. They meandered along the path until they came to the living wall. Neville bent forward to smell and touch the varieties of grass, flowers and succulents which grew on the vertical surface. “You 'ave created a wall you are comfortable with. Plants and herbs can grow from the side of the mountain, they cling to life. These have no struggle, only care.” Hada looked at him gravely. “You can grow beyond the walls. You should, you know.” Neville compressed his lips understanding.

“Do you mind if we have a seat?” Hada accented and followed Neville to a covered bench. “About, what you said before. You couldn't see anyone needing the amount of change. Can I take you to visit my parents? Perhaps, you could judge for yourself.”

The picture of ease and contentment, Hada stood. “Yes, if you wish. Shall we go now?”

~*~

Neville was greeted warmly by the Healer in charge. He had the sense that Ms. Najah was beginning to understand his concerns. Neville introduced Hada to his parents, who mumbled incoherently in return. Frank and Alice fidgeted and shifted looking around in a manner suggesting they were being followed. Hada and Neville took seats and Neville explained what had happened to them. Neville was looking for assurity in her manner, finding none he asked. “Ms. Najah, can the obi help them? I would do anything really to see them well, and happy.”

With carefully phrasing Hada explained. “I'm afraid, that obi can't help them. They don't need obi.” Seeing Neville's anguish she continued, “you need to move them from this place. The walls breathe illness. Once that is done, you need to overcome your fear to help them.” This was a huge blow to Neville's hopes.

His grand wouldn't allow Neville to bring his parents home. If he moved out then he could do it, it would be hard. He had money, but that wouldn't sustain him forever. Growing medicinal and magical plants was certainly a good option. Unfortunately he needed more space to bring a profit. So many decisions. Who would he supply, Sprout grew many plants for Snape's Potion's Class, but not all. No Sprout did not have a large variety of rarer plants and herbs. But Snape. A cold chill ran down his spine.

Hada got his attention when she held a talisman to him with the twisted hand. “You look like duppy got you! No duppy, no sticks and stones.”

Neville placed a hand on hers, “Sticks and stones, will break my bones...I'm alright, just thinking.”

“What that you say?” She was intrigued.

“'Sticks and stones may break my bones but names can never hurt me.' It's something you can say when people want to be cruel to you. It's suppose to make you stronger than you are.” Neville was weak from this emotional roller-coaster.

“Like a magic?” Neville didn't really know how to explain it, so he just nodded.

“We should go now, I want to say goodbye to them first.” Hada observed Neville. Silently he embraced them in turn, withdrawing a wrapped sweet for each of them. They both groped around their night stands, handing Neville wrappers from their last treat. Taking them with a small smile Neville tucked them into his pocket.

Out in the hall as they approached the lifts, Hada smiled at Neville. “You a doux-doux son.”

“Excuse me?” Young Mr. Longbottom was taken aback.

She pat him sincerely on the cheek, “jus' means sweet. You a sweet-sweet son.”

Neville and Hada sat in the candle lit garden. They shared a comfortable silence most of the evening. “I don't know if I can let go of the fear.”

“First, face the fear. You will know what to do.” Hada yawned. “I must go now, but I will return.”

Neville walked her to the door. Hada Najah put her hands on his head, then on his shoulders, and finally Neville accepted them into his open palms squeezing gently. “Don't give up hope Mr. Longbottom.”