Disclaimer: Yes, I am JK Rowling. And the little flying monkeys are
painting the sky red to match their tinny, tiny hats. *rolls eyes * really
people, a bit of common scene would be much appreciated. So I am not JK
Rowling, and I'm not making money off of this and one day I will be Mrs.
Daniel Radcliffe. cough*.you didn't hear that last part.shall we get on
with the story, yes I think that would be good.
Author's Note: Alrighty then. Even though this is the first fanfic that I am putting up, I have been around here for a while. So please, if you must flame, be nice please. I love constructive criticism, but no one like to be told 'Your work is horrible!'. I really don't like it, and it really doesn't help my already low self-esteem. If you're nice I will give you some chocolate frogies. Anyway, I wrote this as an audition for Neville on a website, and people like it, so I thought I would put it here. It's before the scene at the end of 'Christmas on the Closed Ward.' Hope you like, and remember, I love reviewers, I love constructive criticism, but I don't love being told that I suck.
It had always hurt Neville to go and see his parents, and going on Christmas wasn't going to make the pain any duller. He had always dreamed about having a normal life where he would have normal parents, or at least parents that could at least talk to him, and they would be a normal family, in a normal house, living their normal lives. But he wasn't normal. Instead of his dream, he shared a small cottage in Eagle Cove with his overbearing Grandmother.
And that same overbearing Grandmother was sitting right next to him, in the back seat of what a muggle would call a "cab." Even though he was a pureblood, he was well associated with this form of muggle transportation. When he was on break from Hogwarts, most of his time would be spent at St. Mungo's in the Spell Damage wing. His Grandmother, who flinched at the sight of soot and was terribly afraid of heights, had left no other option to get the hospital then by muggle way.
Neville had never been the brightest crayon in the box or the sharpest tool in the shed, and he never was the dazzling star in the sky. He was just the dim and shy Neville Longbottom. He was never going to measure up to his father's legacy, and his grandmother was the first to remind him of it. His Grandmother wasn't even picturing him even going to Hogwarts, but by lucky chance, he showed magic. He wasn't a squib, he was a wizard, and it brought hope to his Grandmother that maybe, just maybe, he might be like his father. Her hopes had been dashed though, but still, it didn't seem to hurt her that much.
Neville often wondered if he hadn't been accepted to Hogwarts, if he really had been a squib. How his Grandmother would have acted. The thoughts still haunted him to this day. His Grandmother had always been proud of her son, and thought that Neville should have been like him. That Neville should show his respect for his father by being like him. But Neville wasn't like his father; he would never be the star beater that his father was for his house team, he wouldn't be head boy of his year, and he wasn't going to be an Auror. He was going to be lucky if he passed anything besides Herbology in his O.W.L.S.
"Right," a ruff voice came from the front of the car said, "Are ye sure ye want to get off 'er?"
"Yes sir," said his Grandmother, "Thank you ever so much, especially on Christmas Day and all."
"Aint nothing ma'am, really," the driver said taking the pounds that Mrs. Longbottom handed him, "I aint really got a family of me own, and I've got no wheres' to spend it at, so it aint really a fuss ma'am."
"Well all the same," Mrs. Longbottom said, "I do wish you a happy Christmas."
The Driver grunted and drove off. Mrs. Longbottom seemed to take that as a 'And a very Happy Christmas to you and yours and a blessed New Year too' and joined Neville by the window of the closed down shop. Neville grimaced at the green tank top under the acid washed jean jacket, with the leopard print belt to match. No matter what you were, muggle or wizard, it was not a pleasant sight to behold. Neville's grandmother came to the window and spoke in her clear Scottish accent, "We are here to visit Mr. and Mrs. Frank Longbottom."
The dummy nodded. It would have been shocking, or even maybe a tiny bit fascinating if he hadn't have seen it happen more times then his memory would go back for. He was dragged though as his grandmother grabbed his forearm with her bony hands. The next moment he was the middle of reception area. Witches and Wizards were bustling throw the open room, the Red and Green lights glowing against the sterile walls. H saw a boy, about 5 or so, being mesmerized by the fairies that were on the huge Christmas tree in the center of the room. He remembered when he was that boy. It seemed so long ago. His grandmother pulled him along though. "Really, no wonder your grades are so low, you seem to have the attention span of 6 seconds!" was her reply.
His grandmother and himself had been there so many times over the years; they knew where they were going automatically. He followed his grandmother a few paces behind. This is the part of being of from Hogwarts that he always dreaded. Not that he didn't love his parents; he did really and truly, more then anything in the world. It just was too painful to see them laying there, not even the former shadow of themselves. The look in their eyes of being so completely lost that their soul was dead. He could see his parent's trapped inside their bodies. They were prisoners of themselves forever.
He had felt bad that he had never told his friends about his parents, but he had never had that type of 'best friend' relationship with anyone really. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had always had their little group from as long as Neville could remember. Dean and Seamus had always been the duet team as well. Both would have taken Neville into their ranks, but he had always said no kindly. Sure he was friendly, but never overly. He didn't want to tell anyone about parents. They were his skeletons in his closet. I mean, how could they understand? He couldn't expect them to understand. It was best if they didn't know Neville would always reassure himself.
He snapped out of his daydream when he heard from a room ahead, "It's a Boy!" Neville picked up his pace to see who was in that room. When he got to it, he saw a man, with tears of joy, hugging all the people in the room with him. A Healer came in with a bundle of blankets, which Neville assumed to be the child. The man was walking over to the bundle slowly when his Grandmother called, "Come on Neville, we mustn't dawdle."
Neville followed his Grandmother melancholingly ((AN: I don't even know if that is a word)) to a pair of double doors called SPELL DAMAGE. Mrs. Longbottom opened the doors to revel a long corridor behind it. He followed the hallway, listening to his footsteps echo on the wooden floors. There was another door that Neville knew was locked. He had learned the hard way, when he was 6 and had pulled on it with all his might, till the Healer in charge of opening it said "Alohomora", causing the door to hit him at full force straight in the nose.
"Why hello Kaela," Mrs. Longbottom said pleasantly the young woman who was obviously in charge of opening the doors today. Neville had seen her before. She was only about 20; she was a 7th year when he was in 2nd. But he had really gotten to know her threw her work here. She was still a trainee, so the most she could do till she past her Healer examine (which was only 6 months away, she would constantly tell Neville) was open the door. Today a pair of green and red earrings flashed below her hat of Father Christmas.
"Hello Mrs. Longbottom, Neville," She replied smiling, "here to see Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom I suppose?"
"Yes dear," Mrs. Longbottom said smiling, "you won't mind opening the doors would you?"
"Oh not at all!" Kaela said still smiling. She took out her wand and mutter 'Alohomora' and pulled the door open for the two, "Happy Christmas!"
"Oh and a very Happy Christmas to you to dear," Mrs. Longbottom said, "Tell your parents I say hello."
"Oh I will Mrs. Longbottom! Good bye!" and with that the door was shut and the lock was placed on it again.
"Come on now boy! We haven't all day," Mrs. Longbottom hissed. It amazed Neville how his grandmother could be so nice in public, but so harsh on him.
A curtain was placed around his parent's beds. The Healers always knew that they would come on certain dates. I hate it; he thought to himself, I hate it all. My parents being like this. But what can I do? I can't bring it back, what they had before. He stood outside his parents beds, not wanted to go in there, having his heart ripped open again. How many people could take that day after day, knowing his parent's were gone and never coming back, but then again so close that he could almost picture them having a perfect life, without going crazy? How much longer was he going to be able to endure the pain? Forever, he thought to himself, I have to be brave and deal with it. It was then, that he finally realized, why he was a Gryffindor.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's note: I don't know if I should continue. I might be able to write something to add on, that is, if the teacher's let the 8th grade (my grade) have a study hall tomorrow. Tell me if you think I should and I might.
Author's Note: Alrighty then. Even though this is the first fanfic that I am putting up, I have been around here for a while. So please, if you must flame, be nice please. I love constructive criticism, but no one like to be told 'Your work is horrible!'. I really don't like it, and it really doesn't help my already low self-esteem. If you're nice I will give you some chocolate frogies. Anyway, I wrote this as an audition for Neville on a website, and people like it, so I thought I would put it here. It's before the scene at the end of 'Christmas on the Closed Ward.' Hope you like, and remember, I love reviewers, I love constructive criticism, but I don't love being told that I suck.
It had always hurt Neville to go and see his parents, and going on Christmas wasn't going to make the pain any duller. He had always dreamed about having a normal life where he would have normal parents, or at least parents that could at least talk to him, and they would be a normal family, in a normal house, living their normal lives. But he wasn't normal. Instead of his dream, he shared a small cottage in Eagle Cove with his overbearing Grandmother.
And that same overbearing Grandmother was sitting right next to him, in the back seat of what a muggle would call a "cab." Even though he was a pureblood, he was well associated with this form of muggle transportation. When he was on break from Hogwarts, most of his time would be spent at St. Mungo's in the Spell Damage wing. His Grandmother, who flinched at the sight of soot and was terribly afraid of heights, had left no other option to get the hospital then by muggle way.
Neville had never been the brightest crayon in the box or the sharpest tool in the shed, and he never was the dazzling star in the sky. He was just the dim and shy Neville Longbottom. He was never going to measure up to his father's legacy, and his grandmother was the first to remind him of it. His Grandmother wasn't even picturing him even going to Hogwarts, but by lucky chance, he showed magic. He wasn't a squib, he was a wizard, and it brought hope to his Grandmother that maybe, just maybe, he might be like his father. Her hopes had been dashed though, but still, it didn't seem to hurt her that much.
Neville often wondered if he hadn't been accepted to Hogwarts, if he really had been a squib. How his Grandmother would have acted. The thoughts still haunted him to this day. His Grandmother had always been proud of her son, and thought that Neville should have been like him. That Neville should show his respect for his father by being like him. But Neville wasn't like his father; he would never be the star beater that his father was for his house team, he wouldn't be head boy of his year, and he wasn't going to be an Auror. He was going to be lucky if he passed anything besides Herbology in his O.W.L.S.
"Right," a ruff voice came from the front of the car said, "Are ye sure ye want to get off 'er?"
"Yes sir," said his Grandmother, "Thank you ever so much, especially on Christmas Day and all."
"Aint nothing ma'am, really," the driver said taking the pounds that Mrs. Longbottom handed him, "I aint really got a family of me own, and I've got no wheres' to spend it at, so it aint really a fuss ma'am."
"Well all the same," Mrs. Longbottom said, "I do wish you a happy Christmas."
The Driver grunted and drove off. Mrs. Longbottom seemed to take that as a 'And a very Happy Christmas to you and yours and a blessed New Year too' and joined Neville by the window of the closed down shop. Neville grimaced at the green tank top under the acid washed jean jacket, with the leopard print belt to match. No matter what you were, muggle or wizard, it was not a pleasant sight to behold. Neville's grandmother came to the window and spoke in her clear Scottish accent, "We are here to visit Mr. and Mrs. Frank Longbottom."
The dummy nodded. It would have been shocking, or even maybe a tiny bit fascinating if he hadn't have seen it happen more times then his memory would go back for. He was dragged though as his grandmother grabbed his forearm with her bony hands. The next moment he was the middle of reception area. Witches and Wizards were bustling throw the open room, the Red and Green lights glowing against the sterile walls. H saw a boy, about 5 or so, being mesmerized by the fairies that were on the huge Christmas tree in the center of the room. He remembered when he was that boy. It seemed so long ago. His grandmother pulled him along though. "Really, no wonder your grades are so low, you seem to have the attention span of 6 seconds!" was her reply.
His grandmother and himself had been there so many times over the years; they knew where they were going automatically. He followed his grandmother a few paces behind. This is the part of being of from Hogwarts that he always dreaded. Not that he didn't love his parents; he did really and truly, more then anything in the world. It just was too painful to see them laying there, not even the former shadow of themselves. The look in their eyes of being so completely lost that their soul was dead. He could see his parent's trapped inside their bodies. They were prisoners of themselves forever.
He had felt bad that he had never told his friends about his parents, but he had never had that type of 'best friend' relationship with anyone really. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had always had their little group from as long as Neville could remember. Dean and Seamus had always been the duet team as well. Both would have taken Neville into their ranks, but he had always said no kindly. Sure he was friendly, but never overly. He didn't want to tell anyone about parents. They were his skeletons in his closet. I mean, how could they understand? He couldn't expect them to understand. It was best if they didn't know Neville would always reassure himself.
He snapped out of his daydream when he heard from a room ahead, "It's a Boy!" Neville picked up his pace to see who was in that room. When he got to it, he saw a man, with tears of joy, hugging all the people in the room with him. A Healer came in with a bundle of blankets, which Neville assumed to be the child. The man was walking over to the bundle slowly when his Grandmother called, "Come on Neville, we mustn't dawdle."
Neville followed his Grandmother melancholingly ((AN: I don't even know if that is a word)) to a pair of double doors called SPELL DAMAGE. Mrs. Longbottom opened the doors to revel a long corridor behind it. He followed the hallway, listening to his footsteps echo on the wooden floors. There was another door that Neville knew was locked. He had learned the hard way, when he was 6 and had pulled on it with all his might, till the Healer in charge of opening it said "Alohomora", causing the door to hit him at full force straight in the nose.
"Why hello Kaela," Mrs. Longbottom said pleasantly the young woman who was obviously in charge of opening the doors today. Neville had seen her before. She was only about 20; she was a 7th year when he was in 2nd. But he had really gotten to know her threw her work here. She was still a trainee, so the most she could do till she past her Healer examine (which was only 6 months away, she would constantly tell Neville) was open the door. Today a pair of green and red earrings flashed below her hat of Father Christmas.
"Hello Mrs. Longbottom, Neville," She replied smiling, "here to see Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom I suppose?"
"Yes dear," Mrs. Longbottom said smiling, "you won't mind opening the doors would you?"
"Oh not at all!" Kaela said still smiling. She took out her wand and mutter 'Alohomora' and pulled the door open for the two, "Happy Christmas!"
"Oh and a very Happy Christmas to you to dear," Mrs. Longbottom said, "Tell your parents I say hello."
"Oh I will Mrs. Longbottom! Good bye!" and with that the door was shut and the lock was placed on it again.
"Come on now boy! We haven't all day," Mrs. Longbottom hissed. It amazed Neville how his grandmother could be so nice in public, but so harsh on him.
A curtain was placed around his parent's beds. The Healers always knew that they would come on certain dates. I hate it; he thought to himself, I hate it all. My parents being like this. But what can I do? I can't bring it back, what they had before. He stood outside his parents beds, not wanted to go in there, having his heart ripped open again. How many people could take that day after day, knowing his parent's were gone and never coming back, but then again so close that he could almost picture them having a perfect life, without going crazy? How much longer was he going to be able to endure the pain? Forever, he thought to himself, I have to be brave and deal with it. It was then, that he finally realized, why he was a Gryffindor.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's note: I don't know if I should continue. I might be able to write something to add on, that is, if the teacher's let the 8th grade (my grade) have a study hall tomorrow. Tell me if you think I should and I might.