Hi Everybody! This Is my First Fanfiction and It's a Harry Potter Fanfiction! My dad told it to me and I thought It would be fun to have that as my first! Please Read and Review. Disclaimer: I Own Absolutely Nothing! All the Characters and everything else belongs to JK Rowling Neville's Hairy Expeience

Fourth year Neville Longbottom was far to much aware of his being a blundering oaf. He was aware of the fact that he wasn't smart like Hermione Granger, heroic like Harry Potter, the hero of Hogwarts and the darling of Gryffindor., and he wasn't wisecracking and funny like Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. He wasn't particularly good looking with his round face, pudgy build, and overlarge front teeth. He was never really sure why the Sorting Hat had chosen to put him inGryffindor, the house that came with one of the biggest expectations for it's students to live up to. Sometimes, he backtracked his conversation with the Hat in a somewhat desperate attempt to perhaps realize what he had said or done to the hat in order to make it punish him this way. He would sometimes ponder over his four minute conversation for hours on end until finally, he would sadly resign himself to the fact that he was probably too dumb to remember what he had done to the hat.

Oh Why oh WHY couldn't the hat have placed him in Hufflepuff like his mother? He'd still have been a clumsy idiot but at least he wouldn't be tarnishing the reputation of his house half as badly! Hufflepuffs were viewed as somewhat of duffers to everybody (it was common knowledge) and if he ever did something stupid, the laughter he'd have ringing in his ears, trailing behind him afterward wouldn't have been half as nasty. It was bad enough when his grandmother would shout at him whenever he did something stupid (which was often) and call him an insult to his parents and all purebloods. Now, added on top of all that like a cherry topping a particularly bitter sundae, was the fact that he was adding fuel to the belief that students were shunted sideways into Gryffindor only when they didn't attribute characteristics of any of the other three houses. Little did Neville know that his time to prove himself was on the horizon, speeding toward him slowly but surely. In three years, nobody in their right mind would would be caught dead, wondering if he was in Gryffindor by default.

But this is not that story. This is the story of the time Neville learned to shave. It was a Monday morning and Neville was in Potions class. It was his least favorite class of them all and he was aching to enter his sixth year and drop it from his schedule! Partly because he had burned through 50 cauldrons since his first year and every time he returned home from the hollidays, he'd find Gran angrily brandishing a bill from Potages cauldron shop, shrieking until he would swear on his Grandfather's grave that her eyes were rolling back into her head, about how many galleons he had cost her. Also, the Potions Master was Professor Snape who seemed to hate Nevile with a passion rivaled only by the one he cradled in his heart for Harry Potter. Which was saying something.

As Snape began to criticize his Vanishing Drought, (which was supposed to be completely clear and transparent, and was instead black and tar-like) Neville braced himself for the barrage of insults Snape began firing his way about how he was a giant fool and the definition of stupidity, while the Slytherin house (of which Snape was house master) snickered like a pack of long nosed, snagger toothed hyenas. But today Snape made a remark that was rather different from his usual load of insults.

"Perhaps the reason for your below human intelligence is accounted for in your neandrathallic, unshaven face...Yes, Longbottom, I can think of no clearer explanantion. You are a half man, half-wit"

The Slytherins roared with laughter

"That's your best one yet Professor!"

"Oooooh burn!"

"Oh Professor Snape you really are hilarious!"

Fortunately, one of the perks of being Gryffindor was that the housemates always stuck together like family. Neville could always count on them to have his back, even if they too thought it was funny.

"Well YOUR'E half-man, half bird-of-prey, what with yer long, curved beak!" snapped Seamus Finnegan and Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil put their arms around Nevile.

However, he wasn't too offended. In fact, he was rather lost in thought. "neandrathallic, unshaven, face?" What on earth could that mean? He knew that his body was going through changes. But so was everybody else's. He never really thought of himself as being unshaven. When was the last time he looked in a mirror?

Neville was so curious about scrutinizing his appearance with Snape's snide comments in mind, that he could hardly wait to get back into his dormitory and look in the mirror. He practically ran up the stairs during lunch break. Perhaps, his mind had gone into overdrive, in his determination because when the Fat Lady asked him for the password, he actually remembered! She gaped at him in surprise, but he didn't notice, or care.

Good Grief! Neville really was unkempt looking! His face looked like a bunch of lichens were growing in patches!

"I really should start to think about shaving!" he thought, gaping at his appearance.

But how would he do this? He didn't have a razor! He could alwayds wait for the next Hogsmeade trip and see if he could get his hands on on. But that wasn't until Christmas! And who knows what his face would look like then! How many more cutting remarks about his appearance would he have to endure from Snape until then?

"No." thought Neville firmly and confidently (something he didn't do much even in his own head)

"Snape has enough reasons to pick on me without my appearance. Thank you very much! No, It'll have to be a spell! There's sure to be a shaving spell out there somewhere. Some talented wizard out there must have had my problem! They had to! Wouldn't they?"

And so began Neville's quest to find a shaving spell. Every day, during lunch in the Great Hall, he'd slink off to the library and comb the shelves, looking for a spell he could use!

After weeks of doing so, Neville finally resigned himself to the fact that there was no shaving spell in the library.

But wait! What about Ron Weasley's twin brothers? He didn't know much about them, but it wasn't exactly a secret that they had a talent for inventing handy spells! How many times had he heard Ron telling Harry, Dean, or Seamus about how they spent the summer inventing things! If anybody could give him a shaving spell it was them! Neville waited for an opportunity to speak to them alone for three days until finally, everybody in the Gryffindor common room had gone to sleep but them. They seemed to be writing a letter to somebody. Whatever it was, Neville had enough brains to know that it was something top secret or else they'd have done it in the sixth year boy's Dormitory or when everybody was still in the common room. But Neville knoew better than to ask. He finally went up to them, took a deep breath, tried everything in his power in an attempt to summon up some of that Gryffindor Courage the Sorting Hat claimed to have seen in him, and tapped the twin nearest to him's shoulder. "Pardon me" he said timidly Instantaneously, both twins wheeled around and Neville found himself under the inspection of two older looking versions of Ron. "Wot yer wont" said the one he tapped.

"Your Fred and George Weasley aren't you" he said timidly

"The one and only" said the twin he tapped

"Reckon there's any one else round here he'd confuse us with"

"Dunno Fred, have you been practicing the duplicate charm, withuot my knowledge?"

"Wait a tick, I'm Fred! Blimey are you a clone of me! Wot haave yer done with George?"

"Only joking, Fred don't get your underpants addled!"

The twins gave a good natured laugh at their seconds long improvised skit. "Well, I was wondering if you could help me" said Neville quickly, afraid that the twins had forgotten about him.

"Oh. Sure, wot ya want? Neville ain't it?"

"Well, I-I was wondering if..you-if... you knew about... well-a-a-a spell or some kind of an an-en-enchantment of some kind that you could tell me about that could help me with-well-well-shaving" admitted Neville slowly, feeling like a fool with every passing word!

The twins broke into gangly, good natured griins.

"Blimey! Funny you should ask! We've got just the thing!"

"And here we were thinking that we'd never use it!"

"Almost threw it out!"

"Bully for us! Packing it anyways!"

"Got seer blood or somethin tellin you it'd be handy for this year?"

"George, bring it out here! You know where it is!"

One of the twins disappeared into the dormitory, re-emerging seconds later with a blue-gray-green ointment that looked a bit like bubotuber pus combined with flobberworm mucus.

"This 'ere Neville is a little potion we invented during our first year as an extra credit project for potions class!"

"Only we never turned it in cos old man Snape changed his mind at the last second"

"Right after we worked so hard on it too!"

"Right after we had finished it, the slimy git!"

"I gotta feeling it's got something to do with the fact of 'is suspecting us of putting a stink pellet into his Pumpkin Juice during lunch.

"Um, George, we did put a stink pellet into his pumpkin juice!"

"Yeah, but he couldn't even prove it! "So what does it do?" interrupted Neville hastily, afraid that the twins would get so caught up reminiscing, that they'd forget about him.

"For simply five sickles, you can take this little bugger back to your dorm, smear it all over your face, and wake up the next morning, with it smoother than a baby's buttock!"

"Five sickles!" cried Nevile.

"What, you didn't think we were gonna give it to you for free?"

So Neville paid the twins his entire months pocket money from Gran to the twins and went back to his dorm, smearing the stuff on his face. He was so excited about what his face would look like that he could hardly sleep.

Now the Weasley twins were rather fond of Neville so it was without a doubt that they accidentally sold Neville the wrong potion.

Neville paid the price for his excitement keeping him up late because he woke up the next moring, late for class.

"Oh bloody hell!" he cried, frantically pulling hisPJs over his head and his robes over it, at the same time, while getting the two tangled up in the process.

"Mcgonnagal's gonna kill me!" he thought as he raced out of the portrait hole, all thoughts about the shaving potion forgotten. He ran into Transfiguration, a difficult task as it was on the other end of the school. He was dimly aware of his pasing some people in the corridor who were giving him wide mouth stares, but that's probably because they were wondering where on earth he was running off to in such a hurry. He didn't have time to wonder! When he finally got into the Transfiguration classromm, panting and sweaty, he found several pairs of eyes, the size of saucepans gaping at him, but tht was probably because they were wondering where he'd been. He turned to Professor Mcgonnagal's desk, expecting to meet her stern, patronizing gaze, but found her too staring at him with her mouth ajar, and her eyes magnified.

"I'm sorry Professor! I overslept! It won't happen again don't give me a detention!" he cried out in one breath as he desperately struggled to catch it (a boy in better shape would be panting from exhaustion)

"Longbottom! What is the meaning of your face!" CRIED Professor Mcgonnagal, seemingly struggling to find words.

"Wha-what do you mean?" Gasped Neville.

"Merlin's beard boy! You look like you spent ten years in the Forbidden Forest!"

"What are you talking about" asked Neville puzzled. In his zeal to get to class on time, he'd forgotten to look in the mirrior.

"THIS" she cried, transfiguring a large mirror out of thin air and shoving it in front of his face! Neville gasped!

Instead of looking clean shaven in smooth, his entire jaw and cheeks had been transformed into mottled leaves! He indeed looked like something out of the Forbidden Forest!

"The-the Weasley twins gave me a shaving potion! They told me that if I smeared it on my face and went to sleep, I'd wake up shaved" Wailed Neville on the verge of tears. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron, give a low moan and bring his forehead to the palm of his hand.

"You'd better go to the hospital wing and keep your fingers crossed for Madam Pomfrey to be able to identify this potion" said Professor Mcgonnagal, trying to sink back into her usual calm, prim, self (an act at which she was failing miserably)

Pulling his robes over his face, Neville ran into the hospital wing where Madam Pomfrey screamed at the sight of him, believing him to be a werewolf, come to wreak his revenge on her for not being able to cure him fr his Lycanthropy back from her days as a Trainee Healer in St. Mungos. After spending three hours, trying desperately to find an antidote to the spell, calling in Professor Sprout and even brthe Weasaley twins to tell identify which potion ingredients they had used to make the potion (which the latter couldn't remember as they hadn't the faintest clue which potion they had given him), they were forced to call on the last person Neville wanted to see during this ordeal: Professor Snape.

Fortunately, Snape managed to whip up a flesh-restoration solution that gave Neville a fleshy jaw and cheeks minus the original stubble. Unfortunately, it was not before he sent out a series of wuthering remarks about Neville's condition in his direction. Among these insults was that perhaps Neville should stay this way as it was clearly an improvement! Poor Neville! And that is the story of how Neville learned to shave! please review! This is my first published fanfic and I really want to hear some feedback! Although I must confess that it's not my own. My Dad told it to me. He's the greatest storyteller ever But I promise, everything else will be my own creation!