This was written in response to Qoheleth's Malachy O'More challenge. My Latin motto was: "Pastor et Nauta" which means Shepherd and Sailor. It is the 107th on the Malachy list and was assigned to Pope Beatus John the Twenty-Third.
Note: If anyone else is interested in taking the challenge, you can visit Qoheleth's profile page and tell her you would like to participate. You can than write a fic (any category) that has something to do with the Latin motto that you are assigned.
Disclaimer: All the characters and situations are the property of J.K. Rowling.
Pastor et Nauta
Neville was seated on one of the scarlet armchairs in the Gryffindor Common Room, holding a small blue book in his lap and staring out the window, lost in thought. It was two in the morning and he found himself alone as the rest of his classmates were sound asleep in their dormitories.
He watched the snowflakes outside dance and flutter in the darkness and he inwardly pondered what it would be like to be so graceful, so innocent, and so carefree as they were. Snowflakes don't have worries and troubles; they don't have memories that haunt them with sadness and grief.
Tearing his eyes away from the window, Neville turned his attention to the little book he had clasped in his hands. He slowly opened the old object, the glow from the fireplace flickering and reflecting on its pages as he flipped through them. He paused at one of the images and a flood of memories rushed into his mind… Memories of his parents… He missed them—he missed the way they used to be.
His mother had given him the picture book for his birthday present one year when he was younger. He had loved it and his parents would read it to him as he peered at the drawings of Muggles and the various jobs they had. Two images in particular had caught his attention—the ones of a shepherd and a sailor. He assumed that it had been the interesting differences of these two characters—the tall and humble shepherd next to the short, elegant sailor—that had amused him.
But now, as Neville gazed at the depictions in the book, he realized that the reason went a little deeper than that. He had noticed the resemblances between his parents and the two on the page. His mum reminded him of a shepherd, lovingly and gently protecting and guiding him just as the shepherd does his sheep. And the sailor always appeared eager and prepared to embark on adventures, much as his dad had been determined in joining Dumbledore's resistance force during the first Wizarding War.
Unfortunately, as in all wars, lives are forever changed—a fact that is especially true when one dares to oppose a powerful Dark wizard such as Lord Voldemort…
After Vol—You-Know-Who lost power, many of his followers, the Death Eaters, began revengeful attacks, and Neville's parents, being loyal members of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix, had been one of the many targets. They had been tortured into insanity by the Cruciatus Curse that night. The last time he had visited them in St. Mungo's they hadn't even recognized him…
All memories eventually fade away and are forgotten within time; that was why Neville still kept the book in his possession. It was the only thing he had left to remember his parents the way they had been before that fateful evening.
As Neville gazed drowsily into the flames of the Common Room's fireplace, they seemed to shift and move together before his eyes to form two fiery images that grew smaller and vanished as the fire died: the shepherd and the sailor.
By far my shortest fic ever, but hopefully I managed to convey some meaning and emotion to all you readers :) Thanks for your time everyone!
-PurpleArmadillo