Disclaimer: The Harry potter series belongs to J. K. Rowling. The only profit I gain from this
story is the enjoyment and experience of writing it.
Written for the The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition- Round 7
CHASER 2: Calming Draught
Additional Prompts:
1. (word) permeate
7. (narrative device) flash forward
9. (closing sentence) That was for certain.
Neville sat in the back of a row of Gryffindors in Potions. He was shaking, again. He grimaced as his leg bounced in order to release the nervous tension. Class hadn't even started, and he was a nervous wreck. Malfoy and his gang were laughing loudly in the next aisle. Hermione was sitting beside him, but she was having a hushed conversation with Harry and Ron that were sitting at the table behind them. He turned his attention to his cauldron and ingredients hoping desperately he hadn't forgotten anything. Just then the door flew open and Snape entered. Tall, and menacing he swept forward to the front of the class.
They were brewing an elixir, a rather complex one; much to the dismay of many in the class. Neville jumped and nearly dropped the thistles in before their time, when Snape stalked past their table.
His cauldron started to bubble and hiss. Grimacing he quickly turned his attention back to it.
Hermione quickly leaned over. "Don't do that! It's the fangs next then let it boil for a minute," she hissed. He nodded shakily as he placed the thistles back down. He carefully picked up the measure of shredded fang and deposited it in the cauldron. Tapping the fire underneath with his wand it flickered and sputtered dangerously low. He frowned and tapped it a bit more vigorously, then the flame burst to life engulfing the bottom of the pot. Letting out a yelp he jerked backwards away from the flames; other students that were close also cried out in alarm.
"Blundering fool!" Snape snapped, turning around and waving his wand in a sweeping motion. The flames and cauldron were doused in water. "10 points from Gryffindor for your incompetence, Longbottom." Neville slumped back onto the bench, his shaking even worse now. Snape turned back towards the front. "Those who actually succeed in not fumbling there their potions bottle it up, and bring it to my desk for scoring."
Longbottom wanted to slide of the bench and be swallowed whole by the floor. Just another mishap to added to his already dismal score. "Gran, won't be very happy when she sees it." Thought Neville unhappily as he gloomily packed things back into his bag. Hermonione had a frown on her face as she watched Neville collect his things. His hands where shaking very badly.
"Here drink this," she said, after she dug through her own bag and pulled out a bottle. "Its called a Calming Draught it should help you calm down." Neville nodded and accepted it.
"T-Thank you, Harmonie."
She nodded back, and quickly swept up her things so she could join Ron, and Harry who where waiting at the door for her. The potion was a blue color with wisps of purple swirling on the bottom of the bottle. He uncorked it, and took a nervous sniff. The soothing smell of lavender filled his lungs. Relaxed by the smell he drained it in one gulp. The sensation of peace permeated through his body down to his bones. He let out a sigh as he rolled his shoulders. All his worries and anxiety seemed to drift away.
Snape had strolled up to the table his brows raised ever so slightly. On his desk was an almost perfectly brewed Sleeping Draught. "I suppose congratulations are in order since you've managed to make one potion without making a complete fool out of yourself."
Neville blinked and found himself staring towards the front of an empty class room. "That was strange." He thought disconcertingly. Shacking his head to clear his mind a little he picked up his bag, and headed out of the classroom. He had to admit to himself that he felt more relaxed than he had ever felt before. He went to lunch, and claimed a seat next Hermione.
"How are you feeling?" She asked as he sat down.
"Never felt better," He replied with out a single stutter in his words.
She smiled, and nodded. Ron looked up quickly from where he sat shoveling food into his mouth.
"What did ya give him?" He asked, making Hermione grimace.
"I just gave him a potion to make him feel better," Hermione replied as she frowned at something on the table that look suspiciously like spit. Neville also grimaced at Ron's manners; if Gran saw him talk with his mouth open she wouldn't be please. He shuddered slightly at the thought, and turned his attention to food.
"What was that potion you gave me anyway?" He asked as he collected different food onto his plate.
"A Calming Draught, it soothes the nerves after a person sufferers from shock, trauma, or an emotional outburst. I am surprised you don't drink it more often," Hermione spoke, digging through her bag again. "Here is another bottle, but be sure not to drink them too close together." Neville took another glass filled with Calming Draught.
He noticed that he didn't accidentally knock something all through lunch. It was nice not to draw attention for once by doing something idiotic. The rest of the day went with a calm bliss. He hardly noticed things that would faze him before he took the potion. Like a bad score on his Transfiguration homework. His Gran wouldn't be very happy, she was always saying things like how good his father was at Transfiguration. Or how his mother had been skilled in Charms.
The next morning he woke up more relaxed than usually. You could easily tell that the potion wore off because the first thing he did was trip on his bed sheets[,] and fall flat on his face. Groaning he pushed himself up, and looked up to see Seamus give a snort of amusement. He sighed, and climbed up onto his feet. He was tempted to take the other bottle of Calming Draught but resisted because of the looming terror of Double Potions the following day. Herbology went smoothly without the potion, and he even gained the points back that Snape had taken.
He was so worried about running into Draco, and his gang that he didn't realize that he had forgotten his book for Transfiguration. McGonagall just shook her head, "Share your book with Longbottom, Miss Granger."
By the time that the next morning came rolling around he was dieing to drink the potion. But he managed to resist until double potions rolled around. Being completely terrified of one of your teachers tended to wear you down a bit. Just before class started he drained the potion in one steady gulp. Once again the peace flowed down his throat, and continued throughout his body.
"So what if I am?" he said loudly looking across at a man that looked more snake like then human. With waxy pale skin and only holes for nostrils.
"You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."
"I'll join you when hell freezes over," he found himself yelling. "Dumbledore's Army!" he shouted, and there was an answering cheer from what sounded like a crowd behind him.
"Sit down, Longbottom," Snape snapped. Neville let his knees give out from under him, and he slumped heavily down onto the bench behind him.
The potions class went on like any normal class except he was able to focus. It was like someone else was controlling his body as he was able to go through the steps for the potion. When class drew to a close he looked up to see Snape approach his table. Snape's brows where raised ever so slightly. On his desk was an almost perfectly brewed Sleeping Draught.
"I suppose congratulations are in order since you've managed to make one potion without making a complete fool out of yourself."
Neville nodded dumbly, his eyes glued to his own cauldron. He didn't feel very proud of his achievement because he knew it wasn't really of his own determination. After class he was digging through his bag, and came across the empty bottle. He discarded it in the nearest bin.
If he would become anything like how he had acted like in his dream he wouldn't need it. That was for certain.