Neville Longbottom padded down the stairs in his flannel pyjamas and into the kitchen. His glance was automatically drawn to the table, where he saw two envelopes propped up against the salt and pepper cellars and a package wrapped in brown paper. He smiled happily, but forced himself to fetch some bread and make his breakfast before he went to look at them.
Once his toast was cooked and slathered in marmalade, he sat down at the table. The two envelopes had his name on them, Neville Longbottom, both underlined with a flourish and splatter of ink. He sat and listened for a moment, but there was no clattering to be heard from the rest of the house, which meant his Gran was probably out shopping already. She always grumped at him to open his presents as soon as he was awake, though, rather than wait for her, so he took up the first envelope and tore it open.
Inside was a card with a picture of a woodland fairy flitting about a small glade on it. Neville watched for a few moments, entranced. When he was small, he had often wished he could be a fairy – they were so delicate and beautiful, nothing like pudgey Neville with his ham-fisted clumsiness. He was both embarrassed and pleased that Gran had remembered his wish, but he sincerely hoped his schoolfriends would never, ever find out, or his life would not be worth living.
Inside the card was the message:
Neville,
Happy Birthday. Try not to cut yourself with these. Don't forget to wear your good robes to your Uncle's this afternoon.
Gran
Neville grinned and tore into the brown wrapping paper. Inside he found a pair of shiny new pruning shears. He'd needed some new ones since he'd accidentally left his old pair outside overnight and the garden gnomes had stolen them. He turned them over in his hand, admiring the blades. They were the latest model, the shears declared, enchanted to clip for hours with seven different pruning settings.
Neville set the shears down on the table carefully and opened the second envelope, more slowly this time. The picture on the front showed a boat, bobbing on the ocean on a clear summer's day. Neville opened the card and read the message.
Dear Neville,
Happy Birthday,
Love from Mum and Dad.
The handwriting was the same as that of the first card.
Neville swallowed hard. He was sixteen years old; too old to cry about something that he could never change, especially when Gran might come home at any minute. He took a deep breath and stood both cards up so that he could watch them as he ate.
He was reaching for his second piece of toast when a large white shape swooped down and landed on the kitchen windowsill. Neville blinked at it for a moment, and then hurried to open the window and let the bird inside. He recognised it immediately as Hedwig, Harry's owl, and a sense of foreboding filled him. He couldn't imagine why Harry would be sending him a letter during the holidays unless something terrible had happened.
Hedwig fluttered into the kitchen, dropped an envelope on the table and then landed on the back of a chair.
"Hello there," Neville said, giving her a scratch behind one wing as he finished his toast. Hedwig tilted her head appreciatively. When he had finished his toast, he decided that he couldn't put it off any longer.
He slipped a thumb in the corner of the envelope and ripped across the top. Inside was a letter and a small packet, which rattled when he tipped it out. Neville peered at it, puzzled. On one side was a photograph of some small blue flowers, and the words "myosotis sylvatica" written underneath. On the other there seemed to be instructions for planting and watering. Seeds? Why was Harry sending him seeds?
Neville unfolded the letter and read:
Dear Neville,
Happy Birthday!
I didn't realise your birthday was so close to mine until recently, so I thought I'd send you something. I'm sorry they're only seeds for a muggle plant - I can't get any magic stuff while I'm stuck here at my Aunt and Uncle's house. The lady at the flower shop suggested these - they're called 'Forget-me-nots'. They don't actually do anything except look pretty, but they attract butterflies when in bloom. I thought maybe you could put them in a corner of your garden or something.
I wanted to say, I mean, I know I didn't say much during the last few days of school, but I wanted to tell you that what you did to that Death Eater saved my life. Dumbledore says that when one wizard saves the life of another, it creates a permanent bond between them, so I guess we're linked now. You came to fight with me, even though you were hurt and knew that we had no chance of winning. That was one of the bravest things I've ever seen, and I'll never forget it. I'm sure your parents would have been really proud.
Anyway, I hope your summer was good. See you on the train!
Harry
Neville felt a heavy weight in his stomach suddenly ease. Harry wasn't angry with him.
Before he'd left, Harry had told him that it didn't matter about the prophecy, that Dumbledore already knew what it said, but that hadn't stopped Neville's gut twisting with guilt. If he was more co-ordinated, he wouldn't have broken the prophecy; if he was a better wizard he could have helped fight the Death Eaters, and then maybe Sirius Black wouldn't be dead and Harry wouldn't have dark hollows under his eyes.
But Harry wasn't angry with him. Harry thought that he, Neville, was brave, and that Neville's parents would have been proud of him. Nobody had ever said that to him before. The letter shook in his hands as he read it and re-read it, burning it into his memory. And Harry had sent him Forget- me-not seeds for his garden.
"Thankyou, Hedwig," Neville said as he finally stood and took his plate to the sink. Hedwig hooted at him and then launched herself off the back of the chair and swooped out through the window.
Neville carefully gathered up his cards, letter, shears and packet of seeds and padded back up the stairs, feeling as though he were floating and not caring if anybody saw the tears streaming down his face.
Once his toast was cooked and slathered in marmalade, he sat down at the table. The two envelopes had his name on them, Neville Longbottom, both underlined with a flourish and splatter of ink. He sat and listened for a moment, but there was no clattering to be heard from the rest of the house, which meant his Gran was probably out shopping already. She always grumped at him to open his presents as soon as he was awake, though, rather than wait for her, so he took up the first envelope and tore it open.
Inside was a card with a picture of a woodland fairy flitting about a small glade on it. Neville watched for a few moments, entranced. When he was small, he had often wished he could be a fairy – they were so delicate and beautiful, nothing like pudgey Neville with his ham-fisted clumsiness. He was both embarrassed and pleased that Gran had remembered his wish, but he sincerely hoped his schoolfriends would never, ever find out, or his life would not be worth living.
Inside the card was the message:
Neville,
Happy Birthday. Try not to cut yourself with these. Don't forget to wear your good robes to your Uncle's this afternoon.
Gran
Neville grinned and tore into the brown wrapping paper. Inside he found a pair of shiny new pruning shears. He'd needed some new ones since he'd accidentally left his old pair outside overnight and the garden gnomes had stolen them. He turned them over in his hand, admiring the blades. They were the latest model, the shears declared, enchanted to clip for hours with seven different pruning settings.
Neville set the shears down on the table carefully and opened the second envelope, more slowly this time. The picture on the front showed a boat, bobbing on the ocean on a clear summer's day. Neville opened the card and read the message.
Dear Neville,
Happy Birthday,
Love from Mum and Dad.
The handwriting was the same as that of the first card.
Neville swallowed hard. He was sixteen years old; too old to cry about something that he could never change, especially when Gran might come home at any minute. He took a deep breath and stood both cards up so that he could watch them as he ate.
He was reaching for his second piece of toast when a large white shape swooped down and landed on the kitchen windowsill. Neville blinked at it for a moment, and then hurried to open the window and let the bird inside. He recognised it immediately as Hedwig, Harry's owl, and a sense of foreboding filled him. He couldn't imagine why Harry would be sending him a letter during the holidays unless something terrible had happened.
Hedwig fluttered into the kitchen, dropped an envelope on the table and then landed on the back of a chair.
"Hello there," Neville said, giving her a scratch behind one wing as he finished his toast. Hedwig tilted her head appreciatively. When he had finished his toast, he decided that he couldn't put it off any longer.
He slipped a thumb in the corner of the envelope and ripped across the top. Inside was a letter and a small packet, which rattled when he tipped it out. Neville peered at it, puzzled. On one side was a photograph of some small blue flowers, and the words "myosotis sylvatica" written underneath. On the other there seemed to be instructions for planting and watering. Seeds? Why was Harry sending him seeds?
Neville unfolded the letter and read:
Dear Neville,
Happy Birthday!
I didn't realise your birthday was so close to mine until recently, so I thought I'd send you something. I'm sorry they're only seeds for a muggle plant - I can't get any magic stuff while I'm stuck here at my Aunt and Uncle's house. The lady at the flower shop suggested these - they're called 'Forget-me-nots'. They don't actually do anything except look pretty, but they attract butterflies when in bloom. I thought maybe you could put them in a corner of your garden or something.
I wanted to say, I mean, I know I didn't say much during the last few days of school, but I wanted to tell you that what you did to that Death Eater saved my life. Dumbledore says that when one wizard saves the life of another, it creates a permanent bond between them, so I guess we're linked now. You came to fight with me, even though you were hurt and knew that we had no chance of winning. That was one of the bravest things I've ever seen, and I'll never forget it. I'm sure your parents would have been really proud.
Anyway, I hope your summer was good. See you on the train!
Harry
Neville felt a heavy weight in his stomach suddenly ease. Harry wasn't angry with him.
Before he'd left, Harry had told him that it didn't matter about the prophecy, that Dumbledore already knew what it said, but that hadn't stopped Neville's gut twisting with guilt. If he was more co-ordinated, he wouldn't have broken the prophecy; if he was a better wizard he could have helped fight the Death Eaters, and then maybe Sirius Black wouldn't be dead and Harry wouldn't have dark hollows under his eyes.
But Harry wasn't angry with him. Harry thought that he, Neville, was brave, and that Neville's parents would have been proud of him. Nobody had ever said that to him before. The letter shook in his hands as he read it and re-read it, burning it into his memory. And Harry had sent him Forget- me-not seeds for his garden.
"Thankyou, Hedwig," Neville said as he finally stood and took his plate to the sink. Hedwig hooted at him and then launched herself off the back of the chair and swooped out through the window.
Neville carefully gathered up his cards, letter, shears and packet of seeds and padded back up the stairs, feeling as though he were floating and not caring if anybody saw the tears streaming down his face.