Practice Makes Perfect

Neville had only seen his grandmother cry once. She had been in her room, and Neville had been sneaking around the house, quiet as a mouse, hoping to find some of those delicious candies his Uncle Billius had given him for his eighth birthday. Gran had smiled at her brother, commanded Neville accept the gift with a proper thank-you, and then snatched the candies from his hands to keep them hidden away for "special occasions."

Her door had been a crack open, and he'd seen her sitting on the foot of her bed, arms wrapped around herself as if trying to keep herself from breaking. Silent tears streamed down her face, as smooth as the gray hair that fell in waves down her back. Even if she hadn't been crying, he would have known something was most definitely wrong. She never let down her hair. It was always tied up tight, just like Gran.

His entire body was telling him to run. She scared him enough as it was; he couldn't be sure what would happen if he didn't get out of there.

As he tiptoed backwards, however, she started to speak.

"I know you can't hear me," she said through sniffles. "You're in St. Mungo's. Well, your body is in St. Mungo's. I think your spirit left a long time ago, Frankie. You and Alice were so brave to go and fight to protect us all. I wish I could be as strong as you were. I wish I could protect him.

Neville stopped. Who did Da want Gran to protect?

"For the longest time, I've been scared he would turn out to be a Squib," she said, and Neville's heart trembled as he realized. "Now that he's not, now that his magic has shown itself... I almost wish he was one. At least then he could stay here, where I can protect him. He's too weak to survive Hogwarts. He will never be the wizard you were, Frank. I'm sorry, son. I'm so sorry." She cried, and Neville's heart shriveled as he began to sniffle as well. He tiptoed quietly to his room again, candy forgotten.

His grandmother didn't believe in him.

"Mummy," he said, climbing up onto his bed and clasping his hands. Sometimes he thought his mother couldn't speak to him in person at the hospital because her spirit was too busy being everywhere else to stay in her body. "If you can hear me, I'm sorry for thinking about stealing the candy I got from Uncle Billy. Gran says I have too much of a sweet tooth and it will make me fat one day. If I'm fat, other kids will tease me. Now that they can't tease me for not having magic, they'll have to find something else."

He squeezed his eyes shut, and then he opened them again.

"I want to see and understand the world outside me, Mummy. I have to make it to Hogwarts. Please, help me be strong there. Help me find good friends and master magic. Help me become someone Gran doesn't have to protect." He still felt trembly and scared from what he'd seen, but talking to his mum made him feel better, even stronger. Something deep within him whispered to him, and he smiled as he listened to what his heart wished.

"Mummy, please help me become someone who can protect Gran. Even if I'm not good at anything else, let me master defense like you and Da, so I can always protect her." He yawned. All this emotion and talking to spirits was making him exhausted. Foregoing the thought of candy, he curled up under his covers and slept.

Neville slammed the quill down with a frustrated sigh. He'd thought this would be his year—the year he mastered Defense class—but even Professor Lupin couldn't get much through Neville's thick head. The differences between grindylows and red caps, the characteristics of werewolves, these ruddy dementors all around the castle... he couldn't do it. So here he was, stuck in the library a week before final exams, studying while everyone else enjoyed the summer air.

"Hullo, Neville," a voice said from next to him, and he turned to see Ginny Weasley slipping into the chair next to him. On his other side, a dreamy looking blonde sat down. "What are you doing inside on such a beautiful day?"

He nodded moodily towards his textbook. "I'm trying to study for Lupin's exam, but this chapter could be scribbles on a page and I'd probably understand it better than I do now. I'm just not cut out for this stuff.".

"What are you learning?" the blonde girl said with a soft, feathery voice.

"Oh, Neville, this is my friend Luna Lovegood. She's a Ravenclaw in my year and she's really good at Defense." Ginny stood up. "Why don't you let her help you?" With that, the young Weasley turned to leave.

"Wait, Ginny, where are you going? You can't just ditch your friend on me!" he said, a note of panic creeping into his voice. As he'd grown to know her over the year, he'd realized that the shy ginger actually had a lot more spunk than she let on.

"Fred and George both have detention, and I know for a fact that no Quidditch teams have the field booked for the next hour, which means it's open flying time. So I'm going to go steal one of their brooms and practice. The Chasers are going to graduate eventually, you know," she said over her shoulder as she sauntered off, the library door banging shut behind her.

Neville turned to the blonde that had been left beside him. She had pulled out a magazine and was reading it upside down. "So, uh, Luna, right?"

"Yes. And you're Neville Longbottom," she said in a serious tone. "I've heard a lot about you."

He chuckled nervously. "Oh, you have?"

"Yes. Padma Patil was in the common room and insulted Roger Davies by comparing his Quidditch tactics to your academics," she said, turning back to her magazine.

Neville's gut twisted. He would never get used to the feeling of being the target of fun. "Oh."

"It was really a horrible insult. You weren't even there to defend yourself." She flipped a page.

"I—what?"

"It was really rude to compare your academics to Davies' Quidditch skills. You are much smarter than he is skilled."

Neville frowned. Didn't this girl realize that he was the most hopeless student in his class? "Luna, you don't understand, I—"

"Why don't we go study outside on the lawn? It's so nice and light outside. No more snow." Her voice was dreamy, and she picked up his book and skipped lightly out of the library.

Bemused, Neville did the only thing he could: he stood and followed Luna Lovegood outside into the sunshine.

"Alright, think of your happiest memory, hold your wand out steadily, and say 'Expecto patronum!'" Harry said, walking around the Room of Requirement.

Neville furrowed his brow in concentration. He couldn't come up with anything for the life of him. He caught sight of Luna's silver hare hopping by, as light and bouncy as she. He grinned as he remembered that day near the end of last year, before the third task of the Triwizard Tournament and Voldemort's return.

"Luna, I have to study! Professor Moody's giving us an exam on the strengths and weaknesses of specific defense spells in battle, and I need to ace this. I've got to get good at this subject."

"And you will, Neville," she said with a smile. "You can study outside with me, in the sunshine!" She grabbed his hand and tugged him outside. He didn't protest further. He was too used to this.

Once outside, they collapsed under their favorite tree. Luna pulled out a bottle of sun lotion and began to spread it on her arms.

"Luna, what are you doing? You won't need any sun cream; it's not that sunny!"

Luna simply shrugged and began humming a song.

"What's that song?" he asked, lying out in the grass.

"It's a Muggle song. It's called 'Check yes, Juliet.' I'm not sure why she's checking yes, though. Can't she just say it?"

Neville laughed. "I don't know the song, Luna, so I can't really say. It sounds nice when you sing it, though."

She rolled over to look at him. "You know you're my best friend, right?"

"You're my best friend, too."

"I don't care what everyone else says about you, Neville, because they say the same stupid stuff about me. You're the first real friend I've ever had, and I believe you're capable of anything you put your mind to."

He smiled. "Thanks, Luna."

She wasn't done, though. "You can do anything you want, Neville, including mastering Defense Against the Dark Arts. One day, you'll be able to protect the ones you love, because one day you'll realize that love is worth protecting."

Pulling his mind back to the present, Neville glanced over at his best friend, who was grinning happily as her hare bounced around her ears. She waved as she caught him staring, and he waved back.

"Got your memory, Neville?" Harry asked. He was wearing an expression he probably thought looked encouraging, but mainly he just looked uncomfortable.

"Yeah," Neville said, glancing once more in the direction of his friend. "I think I've got it." He raised his wand as straight as he could and yelled, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A giant puff of white mist burst from his wand, and Harry cheered as Neville grinned. It wasn't corporeal yet, but to him, it felt like the biggest achievement he'd ever had. The mist hung in the air for a few seconds before fading away.

"Amazing start, Neville," Harry said, pride choking his voice as he beamed at his friend. "I always knew you could do it!"

Neville nodded and smiled with relief. Maybe Luna had been right. Maybe he really could master Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Professor Longbottom was just finishing the Venemous Tentacula's monthly pruning when a first year burst into the greenhouse, dirt and tears streaking his face.

"Uncle Neville, I hate defense class!"

Neville set down his pruning shears and waved his wand, conjuring two chairs. "Have a seat, Lysander," he said kindly, sitting down in the other chair. Lysander sat across from Neville with a sniffle. "Now, what's the matter?"

Lysander wiped his eyes on his sleeve before sitting up and proceeding to babble about the horrible grade Professor Thomas had given him on his Defense exam.

"I can't do anything right in that class, Uncle Nev! I'll never master it, and then I'll never be able to help Da catch magical creatures or help Mum invent her spells!"

Neville smiled gently. "Lys, you're only eleven. Defense is a hard subject to master. You won't just learn it in one night. I didn't. I used to be awful at Defense."

Lysander's big blue eyes widened in a way that only a Lovegood's could. "But you fought You-Know-Who!"

Neville chuckled. "Only after years of practice and a few life lessons from some very wise people."

"How did you master it?"

"Well." Neville thought for a moment. "Part of it was because I wanted to survive the war. I had to master my spells. A big part of it, however, was learning to love the subject. Someone once told me that I'd be able to protect the ones I loved once I'd learned that love was worth protecting," he said with a grin.

Lysander gasped. "Did Mummy say that to you? She's always saying that to me!"

"Yes." Neville laughed. "It was your mum's wise words that finally broke down my mental block. I used to have trouble with simple Disarming Spells, but now—well, just look." He took out his wand and waved it in the air, picturing his happiest memory—the day his first daughter, Alice Augusta, was born—as he said, "Expecto patronum!"

A bright, silver sea turtle burst from the tip of his wand and swam languidly through the air, taking a turn around Lysander's head and making him laugh.

"You really did master Defense Against the Dark Arts, Uncle Neville!"

Neville smiled. "And you can, too."

Round 1 - The Defense Against the Dark Arts (Harpies)

Chaser 2: Trying to master DADA

6. (song) 'Check Yes, Juliet' by We The Kings

8. (picture) [scribbles on lined paper]

10. (dialogue) "You won't need any sun cream; it's not even that sunny!"

WC: (without A/N) 2,146 (FFN)