The Problem with Neville
Neville sat on one of the benches in the empty slightly chilly park by Diagon Alley feeling thoroughly downhearted and angry. Mostly because of himself – actually, that is not strictly true. If you were to ask anyone clear-headed about the situation – therefore, anyone but Neville himself – they would blame Neville's grandmother. But even that is not fair. One could go so far as to blame Bellatrix Lestrange. But that would be going so far into the spider web of reasons for Neville's problem that it no longer really becomes connected with Neville, and more with the darker, coarser spider web that is the workings of Bellatrix Lestrange's mind, and why she did what she did. But, to be fair to all involved, let us blame something so entirely uninvolved that the whole thing becomes an enigma that no one will ever be able to solve. Let us blame the wind. The wind affects so many things, but this was not one of them. You see, the problem with Neville was his confidence – or lack of it, to be entirely truthful. Neville sat on that bench for the whole of the afternoon, feeling so entirely sorry for himself, that if the wind had not blown the newspaper that had sat next to him away, making him run after it –Neville really never did master the art of the summoning charm- then he would have sat on that bench, fixated on his failures. You see, the wind does come into this story, but it does not make the story. It does not make the why of the story. It is not the fabric of the story. As we have already decided, that is an unsolvable problem that shall be forever blamed on the innocent and inevitable nature that is fate.
But I am sure you are wondering why on Earth Neville was feeling downhearted, angry and sorry. And the answer is that which comes up in so many stories... Love. Love, the undefinable word. The heart-ruled feeling that defies logic and reason. The one thing Hermione Granger could not understand. But that is another story entirely, because Neville is the focus here. And why was love his problem? And what has this to do with Bellatrix? And what of Neville's grandmother? Dear reader, the reason Neville had a problem which made him sit in the park by Diagon Alley is that he was in love, but he had not the courage to say to the woman he loved that he loved her. In fact, he loved her so much that he would do anything at all for her. But at this very moment, all thoughts of love had been taken over completely by the prayers Neville was running through his head that nobody would see him if he fell over trying to catch his Daily Prophet Newspaper that was being carried away by the wind. But the wind was in a playful mood today. It taunted Neville, dying down so that the newspaper stopped flying about and waited until the papers settled, just enough time for Neville to reach it, but when he got there, the wind would gust again, taking the paper another few metres. But believe it or not, Neville was praying for entirely the wrong thing. What he should have prayed for, was that he would not fall over trying to catch the newspaper, because someone was already watching the entertaining display, and so if he had prayed not to fall over, then the onlooker would not have seen him fall over. But as it was, Neville had prayed for the wrong thing. But he didn't know that, so when he finally managed to outwit the wind by turning directions at the last second, getting the newspaper back, he thought his prayers had been answered. But the onlooker found the scene terribly funny all the same. Neville was never the most athletic, you see. But back to important matters.
Now that Neville had snapped out of his moping, angry reverie, he no longer felt any desire to go back into it; feeling quite refreshed with the exercise he had done, however small the amount may have been. The wind had helped as well. It had got past the threads of his jumper, past his shirt and vest and was now chilling his skin. Neville rubbed his arms to get warm, then decided the best course of action from there would be to go home. But as he gathered his things from the bench he had been sitting on before the wind had rudely disturbed him (for Neville did not know that the wind would bring good news) a figure revealed herself from the bushes. For you and me, we would recognise her as the onlooker. The one who found Neville's heroic athletics so funny. But Neville did not know this. He did not even know anyone laughed at him, so breathless he was he had not heard the girlish giggle that had escaped from behind the bushes. But we did. Many of you would think that this figure holds bad news, but I know that this figure is especially important. She is what makes the story. She is the why of the story. She is the fabric of the story. Not the wind (although we have established that the wind plays a part in this), but this girl with straggly, waist-length, dirty blonde hair, very pale eyebrows, and protuberant eyes that gave her a permanently surprised look. Many would recognise this girl. Others wouldn't. But to those who know her, or even of her, she is Luna Lovegood. At this point in the story, Neville's breathing stops. His heart beats ten times faster than he would have ever thought possible. He looks around, anywhere but at her. He feels totally uncoordinated, so when he tries to run his hands through his hair as he had seen so many more confident boys than him do, he merely resulted in smacking himself in the face. For as you have probably all guessed, here was the reason for Neville's problem.
Luna Lovegood was the woman he loved. In fact, she was the woman he loved so much that he would do anything for her.
But even though he loved her so, Luna didn't know it. Only you and I know of this. Why? Because the problem with Neville was that he had no courage. He couldn't bring himself to tell her. But what Neville didn't know was that he was brave. He did have the courage. He just could not face the possibility of being rejected by the only woman he loved, had ever loved and ever would love (but that is only for your and my ears). The thought was so painful to Neville that he could not do such a dangerous thing to himself. You see, Neville had never loved anyone before and so it was all new to him; the desire, the longing to be with her forever, the hatred he felt for all those who looked at her with the slightest distaste. The complete and definite knowledge that he would cut off his own hand before he ever looked at her without thinking she was perfect. Because to him, she was. Every word that came out of her mouth had a sort of beautiful dream-like quality to it that put all of Neville's worries to rest. He snapped out of his dream when she actually did speak.
"Hello, Neville. I was just looking for Nargles." She said, as if it were the most normal thing to be doing behind a bush.
"I thought they only infested mistletoe…" Even though he knew they weren't real, he also knew better than to tell Luna they weren't real. She'd only say another ten things existed like Wrackspurts.
"Oh yes, but it's not Christmas now is it? They have to stay somewhere until Christmas comes around again, don't they?" she replied, rolling her eyes (it was obvious to Luna, you see).
Neville shook his head and changed the subject.
"How long have you been searching for them today then?" he asked, worried if Luna had seen him running around.
"Oh, I came when you were already sitting down on this bench. You looked upset. Are you alright, Neville?" she smiled, sat down on said bench and indicated that Neville should do the same. He sat down next her and she smiled. It was an encouraging smile. It melted Neville's heart. Luna swung her legs from the bench and had one hand either side of her, balancing herself so that she would not fall. She raised an eyebrow dreamily, repeating her question.
Neville's voice stumbled over his reply, "Oh, y-yes I'm fine."
"Don't be silly, Neville. I may be stupid, but I'm not that stupid." She smiled, but Neville heated up at this.
"What makes you say you're stupid? You're not stupid! No, Far from it! You're the most insightful person that the Wizarding World has ever seen! So don't insult yourself by saying you're stupid, because you're not! You were amazing in the Department of Mysteries – you saved all of us, really you did!" Neville said this in utmost earnest, but he also knew that the Department of Mysteries was where he had first fallen head over heels in love for Luna, and so of course Neville was going to say that she was amazing in the Department of Mysteries.
"That's a lovely compliment, Neville, but I must tell you it's not at all true. How did I save you in the Ministry? The most I remember was having lots of blood all over me. So go on. Was it some unconscious magic I performed?"
This is the part of the story where Neville finds himself in a tricky situation. He can either make something up, in which Luna would know he was lying, or he could tell the truth, admitting his love for her. He decided to go with the latter even though he was terrified of rejection, because he had to make Luna understand that she was truly amazing. To him, at least.
And so he said – or rather, blurted out at top speed – "Because you made me realise that love is wonderful, powerful, pure and overwhelming. You made me realise that I love you. You made me realise that even if there are Wrackspurts floating around in my head, they won't stop me loving you, because nothing can stop me from loving you! I would do anything for you, and I mean anything. You showed me that even I can be brave, sometimes, and that takes a lot. Thanks to you I had a reason to help Harry defeat Voldemort. And when I killed his snake Nagini, you were there in my mind, and I did it for you, because now that Voldemort is defeated, I know that you're safe now. I now know that Dumbledore's Army was motivated completely by love. All kinds of it! Brothers fighting for sisters, sisters fighting for brothers, children fighting for their parents and parents doing the same thing in the Order. That is why you are amazing Luna Lovegood, and don't you ever forget it!"
Luna's legs stopped swinging, and she looked at Neville. And Neville looked straight back at her, as if trying to read what she was thinking. But he never even heard of Occlumency, let alone practised it, so he could tell nothing of her thoughts. They looked at each other for a long moment. Luna was considering something (it was a mystery to Neville, but definitely not to me!) with a very curious look on her face; but as the moment wore on, Neville looked more ill. But we both know that this was because he did not want her to say she didn't love him back, and we both know that that is not going to happen, because then there would be no point in my telling of this story; but Neville grew certain that it would. Then, it got too much for him, so he stood up, saying "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have even spoken to you. You're too good for someone like me."
And he was turning away when Luna stood up, turned him back around and kissed him. It was not a very notable kiss, and definitely not very glamorous – more just a peck than anything else – but neither Luna nor Neville had ever kissed anyone before – at least, not in any romantic sense, but it was an important kiss. It makes the story. It is the why of the story. It is the fabric of the story. And every good storyteller knows that something must make the story. Something must be the why of the story. And something must be the fabric of the story, be it the wind or no. And with that little kiss, so began the new story – not only Neville's story, or Luna's; this was the beginning of Neville and Luna's story.