House: Gryffindor
Position: HoH
Category: Drabble
Prompt: Flesh-Eating Slug
Word Count (excluding header): 427
Beta: Tigger
"Keep trying, Neville," Harry encouraged. "I know you're capable of doing this. Just channel a happy memory, the most powerful one you've got, and believe that you can do this."
A hush fell over the Auror training room as Neville searched his mind and soul for something powerful enough to finally generate a corporeal patronus. He had tried memories of his best times at Hogwarts with Dumbledore's Army and his triumphs in Herbology. The accolades and praise he had received from his part in the Battle of Hogwarts and the euphoria he felt from decipitating that wretched snake.
But so far, he'd been unable to sustain more than a few seconds of wispy, white light.
Inspiration struck when he recalled his last visit to his parents in St. Mungo's. His father had been lost to him for his whole life, but his mother had rare moments where it seemed like she recognized him.
"Love," he was certain she had whispered. "Proud," he could have sworn she had said as she handed him a Drooble's wrapper that had been folded into the shape of a sword.
Holding tight to the feeling, Neville roared, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" A large, solid-looking creature erupted from his wand. Neville panted through the exertion.
"Well done, Neville," Harry complimented.
"A slug?" laughed Ron. "Your Patronus is a slug?"
Neville defended his new ability. "It's clearly a flesh-eating slug, Ron. Look how big it is."
The transparent slug was leaving a ghostly trail of mucus as it traversed the walls of the training room. Ron's own Jack Russell Patronus was running away from the fast moving slug that was nearly as tall as Neville himself.
"I suppose it makes sense that your Patronus would be something like that," Harry offered. "You were always tops at Herbology. Flesh-eating slugs can be damn destructive in greenhouses but if you raise them up properly they can be useful too. Did you know they're fire resistant? Hermione says they're working on something with their mucus in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and St. Mungo's. Trying to reverse permanent spell damage for people in The Janus Thi—" Harry abruptly stopped talking with a guilty look on his face.
"For people like my parents," Neville whispered. "She told me about that. They're hoping the corrosive effects can help break down the mental walls people with Cruciatus poisoning constructed for themselves when they being were tortured."
Harry clapped him on the shoulder as the flesh-eating slug faded away. "They'd be proud of you, you know?"
Neville knew.