Deimos - Chapter 1
Beginnings:
The journey to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on the Hogwarts Express was one Neville looked forward to. In fact, not just the journey, but the idea of a whole year spent with his friends learning new magic simply delighted him. So when Neville woke up this morning, it took only the time for him to collect his wits to send him bumbling for his trunk. Of course, gran had made him pack days ago, insisting that, as forgetful as he was, he was likely to forget his wand behind unless he packed early.
He took a deep breath, and carefully checked each item against the list his grandmother had forced him to write, making sure that everything was packed neatly. He gently closed and locked his trunk, then slowly dragged it towards the kitchen. As he turned the corners of the ancient mansion, he made sure there was plenty of space, nervously looking out for any relics, items or possessions of his forefathers. He didn't even want to think how angry she would be if he ruined one. She was scary when she was angry, and he had never liked shouting or screaming. That's why he was fond of plants and trees. He wondered what sort of plant she would have been if she had been a tree. Probably a Tanzanean Fire-Cherry Tree. He smiled to himself. Proud, tall and utterly fierce, but beautiful in her own compelling way.
Neville quickly thought of his recently acquired Mimbulus mimbletonia. Even now, the idea of receiving such a rare specimen from his uncle for his birthday made his face glow with delight. A mimbletonia! For him!
However, during this short moment of elation, Neville suddenly found that his legs suddenly decided to misbehave. He could have sworn that they sometimes played games with him.
Drawing a deep breath, he braced himself, and fell, not gracefully, but practice over the years meant he landed safely. He wasn't worried about injuring himself. His grandmother was always more than ready to mend his cuts and bruises with a swift flick of her wand. What made him groan with fear was the edge of his trunk clipping the edge of his great, great, great grandfather's sword, resting against the full plate mail armour. He watched in dismay as the helmet toppled down to the polished wooden floor. The deafening din made him wince, even though he'd expected it.
He braced himself.
"NEVILLE! IF YOU'VE BROKEN ANYTHING, I'LL SWITCH YOU RED!" Oh, yes, she was frightening. "For HEAVEN'S sake, boy, will you EVER learn to walk?" He winced again.
"No, gran, its fine, it's only the helmet, I'll fix it right up," he called back anxiously.
"ONLY THE HELMET? Good grief, boy, you're going to be late, and likely to do more harm then good setting it back. Come to the kitchen so you can have breakfast, and I can get rid of you that much faster. Honestly, you're a menace to anything inanimate," she rasped back then subsided to her usual grumblings.
Neville picked himself up, set the helmet at the feet of the suit of armour then once again made his way to the kitchen. He peered through the great windows, and saw it was still raining. He sighed, partially from a nervous fear that this much rain might flood out the seeds and tiny plants he'd sown over the break, despite his care in making trenches for excess water to flow away in, and partially from tiredness of seeing the same dull grey whenever he looked outside. Every time he looked, rain was spiking down like the drumming of an army, hammering in sheets across the flags which held his family's crown of arms, running rivulets through the arches overhead. Oh his grandma was proud of their name, Longbottom, and insisted the flags be raised everyday. Fortitudo Audentia was the motto inscribed on their crest: moral courage.
"Longbottom's righteous courage never fails, rain, hail, or shine," gran said often.
He tried to live up to her expectations to an extent, but her expectations were very high, especially of late. Voldemort had returned? Why, Neville Longbottom, you'll do your parents and forefathers proud, you will.
He finally reached the kitchen, and the alluring smell of French toast hit him like an enchantment. He dropped his trunk and rushed to the table, beckoning one of the numerous house elves to serve him. Gran was busy reading the newspaper, but she muttered something about the fool boy burning himself.
She was right. He burnt his tongue and fingers shoving the freshly made slice into his mouth, and spat it out by reflex. His grandmother looked at him in disgust then went back to reading the newspaper. As long as he didn't damage the Longbottom name or one of the Longbottom possessions, she seemed to have given up with him. He waited patiently for the house elf to finish apologising then asked her to cool the bread. He wolfed down his favourite breakfast, alongside the cloudy apple juice his grandmother favoured.
"I'm ready, gran," he offered, then waited for her to put down her paper.
"Took you long enough, clumsy boy. Do you have everything?" she asked piercingly. At his nod, she looked at him dubiously. "Everything on the list? Anything else you might want to take along? How about that plant your silly uncle gave you?"
His jaw dropped open in horror, and he was already rushing up the long staircase to his room.
"DEAR BOY, I HOPE YOU MISS THAT TRAIN!" she screeched after him in exasperation. But he heard her telling the house elves to transport the trunk next to the fireplace that she preferred for floo transportation. He grabbed his precious plant while crooning over it lovingly, then headed as fast as he could to the fireplace.
It was a miracle that he didn't trip once.
------------ ------------ ------------
"Luna, dear, can you give me a hand with these?" A harassed voice issued from behind the cool glass screen against which Luna was resting her head. She'd been awake for over an hour, but her eyes still felt gummy.
She opened her eyes slowly and turned around to be met with an amusing scene; her father was obviously being besieged by Brinklebythons- minute creatures that nestled under packages and trunks, waiting for an unaware wizard to come across and lift the infested object only to become overbalanced, the weight of the burden constantly changing as the Brinklebythons made themselves heavier or lighter randomly, till the person was fit to burst.
Indeed, the spectacle was entertaining. Her father was struggling to remain upright, moving the heavy trunk from the verandah to the family car. A small smile crept slowly across her features. Her eyes wondered over to the skyline; the sun was only beginning to rise, now.
She wrenched open her second-storey bedroom window, letting in the cool air and alongside it, her father's grunts of strained effort. Luna poked her head out slightly, and closed her eyes, letting the morning breeze float past her face. The air was tinged with the sweet smell of grass. She relished the scent, breathing in deeply. Now she felt awake and fresh.
"I'll be right down!" she called, and closed the window securely again before bounding down the flight of stairs, taking the steps two at a time.
She landed awkwardly at the bottom of the stairway, causing the family portraits lining the walls of the hallway ahead of her to rattle in protest. On her way out, she paused at the hallway table, and grabbed her father's wand, sparing her favorite portrait a quick glance before closing the screen door behind her.
"Need help, daddy?" She questioned, bemusedly, slowly walking towards him. He really was struggling.
"Luna, what on earth have you got in here?" He asked her distractedly, dropping his burden on the grass with a muffled thump.
"Oh... a few things," she smiled to herself, and added slowly as she stopped nearby, "I'll need all of it, father. You can't take anything out."
He stared at her for a few long seconds, redirected his gaze to the over-packed trunk, and sighed in good-natured defeat. "Okay, darling."
"Thanks, daddy." She handed him his wand.
""Not a problem, dear.' With a quick wave, he levitated the trunk towards the vehicle. "I made breakfast while you were packing your last few things. I've already eaten, go ahead. I'll get the car ready."
She nodded quickly and made her way back towards the house, and more importantly, towards the waiting breakfast.
She picked up the ready-made meal and walked steadily up the stairs clutching the laden plate carefully in her left hand. She needed to check once more to make sure everything was packed and ready to go.
As Luna reached the entrance to her room, she paused and looked around appraisingly. She froze. The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3 as well as a bundle of notes she'd made during the summer were under her bed.
Hadn't she packed them already?
She shrugged non-commitedly. Perhaps a Solimtaver had come and removed some of the things she'd packed. Nuisance, really, those things.
She placed her plate on her writing desk, crouched next to her bed, her back to the door, and began to extract the neat stack of notes. The back of her hand bumped something. She paused hesitantly then allowed her fingers to cautiously peruse the surface of the foreign object. She frowned as she realised it was a small book.
Luna withdrew it carefully and stared at the cover for a few long minutes, her trembling hands trailing over the delicate paper flowers that covered the binding.
No.
It was her mother's diary.
"Mother." Her voice was choked, her chest felt tight. She struggled to draw a breath.
Luna felt a stinging hotness to her eyes she that she dared not acknowledge.
She carefully opened the diary, the fragile pages of which had yellowed slightly from prolonged storage in their humid attic. The blurred words and images before her wavered unsettlingly. Her heart rate increased. She flicked through the next few pages, staring hungrily at the blurry patches before her. Luna could only make out patches of ink now. How her eyes burned.
She blinked. A single tear fell and landed with a small splash on one of the open pages. And suddenly, she could hear her father's footsteps approaching, coming up the stairway. Her eyes widened. Luna snapped the book shut and slotted it in between a few leaves of parchment in the stack lying beside her. She hurriedly wiped her eyes and steadied her breathing.
Two smart knocks sounded on the doorframe. She could feel the presence of her father, standing in the open doorway.
'You've got ten minutes, Luna. Will you be ready to leave then?" He asked.
She kept her back to the door.
Not trusting herself to speak, she murmured vaguely in acknowledgement, trying vainly to make her voice light.
"Okay, I'll see you downstairs then," he said, and made his way back down the stairs.
Luna waited for his foot falls to fade before allowing her hand to stray back to the pile of parchment.
She froze, and bit her lip, her thoughts churning alarmingly.
How had the diary come to be under her bed?
She looked uneasily about her bedroom, almost hoping almost to see something. Her eyes were wide as she peered at the empty corners. The sun was still rising, and the sky was tinged a brilliant pink, making her room eerily red. She shook her head slightly as she felt goose bumps erupting up her back and down her arms.
No, she thought firmly to herself. She's not here.
With those final thoughts, she hefted the heavy box off the floor, stooped to pick up her back pack, and made her way steadily down the staircase arms full, all thoughts of breakfast forgotten.
------------ ------------ ------------
Luna's father was outside on the verandah, standing patiently next to the front door, wand out. When she appeared, he offered her a light smile. 'Got everything ready now?'
"I think so, daddy."
"Do you need any help with that?" He looked inquiringly at the stack of notes she clutched in her arms.
"No, they're not heavy."
"Alright." He conceded and gestured towards the waiting car. "Better be off then, we're already a little bit behind schedule."
It was a tradition, of sorts. It would have been far more convenient to floo to a grate close to the station or even to have apparated nearby after shrinking Luna's things, however, every year, Luna and her father went on a road trip of sorts, driving from their house, meandering along familiar roads and paths, not heading only generally in the direction of Kings Cross Station. They never stopped to examine landmarks, merely appreciating the world around them and savouring memories once lost. It was, Luna thought, but a way of keeping a lingering connection between what still remained, and what was lost; a way of keeping near what was fading.
She didn't know if she enjoyed it, but the necessity it held for her father made her respect it.
As her father finished the last security and locking charms on the house, Luna headed towards the car, taking a deep breath.
Time to face it all, again.
------------ ------------ ------------
Neville felt himself beaming with happiness. He was so glad to be going back to Hogwarts he could even overlook the hyper active little first years to-be. Of course, half of them were crying, and he winced as he trudged past a particularly noisy little girl. His head turned as he saw out of the corner of his eye that his grandma had stopped to glare for a while in front the first year student. The wailing stopped nearly instantly. He smiled with amusement.
I'm not the only one she terrifies, he thought.
He felt his trunk hit something, so turned around. He saw a young man hopping around clutching his shin.
I only turn my head for a second and look what happens.
"NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM! Apologise to the young man immediately! What a disgrace! Dear lord, you clumsy oaf. What're you waiting for? Apologise!" his grandmother screeched at him furiously. Oh dear, he'd forgotten how angry his grandma got if he made a mistake in public.
"I'm sorry, I really am. I wasn't looking where I was going, it's my fault," he offered lamely, but apologetically. He was surprised to see the young man was looking at him sympathetically, after glancing at his grandmother.
"No harm done! If a man can't take a slight hit done by accident, he's hardly a man, is he? And, it's my fault too, I should have heard you coming. But wait, I can't forgive you for making your grandmother, I presume -," he inclined his head slightly, "- walk with you to the carriage! It's a disgrace, a member of the fairer sex should be looked after, and one as charming as your grandmother should be doted on!" he winked back.
Neville stifled a laugh.
"Fairer sex, charming, why, I believe you're trying to flatter me, you rascal. Off with you!" she snorted back, and waved her stick at him, but Neville could tell she was smiling. Neville decided to play along with him.
"No, he's right, gran! I shouldn't make you walk with me to the carriage. I'm in my fifth year, after all, I can look after myself," he said brightly. For good measure, he dropped his trunk, and hugged her fiercely. "You're the best, grandma! You're as smart and fierce as a Tanzanean Fire-Cherry Tree."
He stepped back to find her blinking with shock and pleasured surprise.
I haven't hugged her in a while, have I, Neville mused.
"I'm as fit as ever, young man. And you couldn't look after yourself if your life depended on it. And imagine that, comparing me to a tree! Bah. Off with you, I guess you can't kill anyone just finding a carriage. Study harder! I want to see some good results this year. Do the Longbottoms proud, you hear?" she grumbled. Was that a smile? Yes, it definitely was.
"Oh, by the way, I think you forgot a friend, boy. Look after him!" she said craftily, and pulled out Trevor.
He groaned with despair. How could he have forgotten! Then he grinned, and nodded assent, then watched her walk away with a surprising amount of regret.
I'll miss her.
With that thought, he headed for the train.
------------ ------------ ------------
Luna checked her watch quickly. It was only ten thirty. The car trip had taken less time this year. She was still half an hour early.
"Ready for another year, darling" Her father asked her, loading her trunk onto a trolley.
"Yes, I'll be fine." She gave him a small reassuring smile. He looked at her dubiously.
Luna wondered at that. Why was he so worried?
"I'll be fine, daddy." She repeated, smiling more broadly this time.
And slowly, hesitantly, he nodded.
"Very well. . . You may owl me any time you wish. Just remember to put both addresses on the envelope so the school owls know where to look for me. Do you remember the Quibbler address?" He took out a sheet of parchment and quill from the boot of the car, and scribbled hastily.
"I remember." She said, tiredly, but still smiling, holding her free hand out to accept the torn portion of parchment. "I don't forget much, remember?"
He laughed appreciatively, "Oh, yes. I almost forgot about that." And with that, he shut the boot of the car, took the box of notes and back pack from Luna's grasp, and placed them carefully on the trolley. "Well, let's be off, then," he nodded at the station.
He strode slowly, Luna trailing behind slightly, her eyes carefully taking in her surroundings, the high ceiling, with intricate stained glass windows to either side, and the hundreds of busy muggles, walking briskly along, dressed in straight black suits, completely unaware of one another, engrossed entirely in their own thoughts.
She almost bumped into her father when he stopped beside the barrier between platforms nine and ten.
"You first, darling." He nodded at the wall.
"Thanks, daddy." And she stepped through, while he casually leaned against the wall, obscuring her from the view of the passing muggles.
He waited a few moments before following her through, pushing the trolley before him as he went.
On the platform, she walked through the small groups of milling students. Some of whom waved to her, but none too enthusiastic about seeing her. She offered vague smiles and small waves in return, wanting only to find an empty compartment to sit in.
She peered through a window near the back of the train. It was blessedly empty.
"Here, daddy."
"It's empty?" He inquired, raising his eyebrows slightly.
"Yes." She nodded, and reached out to grab her backpack and box off the trolley.
He frowned slightly and cast a shrinking spell on the box of notes. "I'll put this into your trunk. Why don't you go and get changed?"
Luna stepped onto the train and tossed her backpack into the empty compartment after extracting her rather crumpled uniform. She made her way briskly to the rather cramped restroom at the end of the carriage and removed her muggle clothing, slipping into the far more comfortable and familiar uniform.
She checked her reflection in the dim tinted light of the train, admiring her new school robes, featuring the blue and bronze crest of Ravenclaw that she wore proudly.
She bundled up her muggle outfit carelessly under her arm and unlocked the bathroom door, only to find Cho Chang waiting outside, fidgeting restlessly with her own set of robes that she held.
"Hi, Luna!" She greeted cheerfully, with a quick smile.
Luna smiled back, "Hi, Cho."
"Your holidays were good?" she stepped around Luna to get to the bathroom.
"Yes, they were." Luna conceded. "Father and I went on a trip to try and document the mating procedures of Cortizapsins. Quite fascinating, really." And it had been. They hadn't found the creatures, but they had a lot of fun camping, nevertheless.
Cho looked at her blankly for a moment, hand still on the bathroom door, and Luna saw how she forced a smile. "Yes... that does sound like fun. Well, I'm glad you enjoyed your holiday." She said, "I'd better get changed though." She nodded at the folded uniform she held in her hand. "I'll see you at school, then?"
Cho waited for Luna's nod before she turned away.
Luna headed back to her backpack. She stuffed her muggle clothing unceremoniously into the bag, pulled out her wand out, and tucked it securely behind her ear. Her thoughts kept straying back to the small diary she'd found.
Wand in her hand, she left the train to find her dad struggling to load her trunk into the luggage bay, his hair askew and his face red from the exertion. Once he'd accomplished his laborious task, he stepped back looking extremely satisfied. Suddenly, inexplicably, a small grin flitted across her face. He was completely unaware of her watching him. She felt a strange, warm feeling settle in around the bottom of her stomach.
"Luna!" He walked briskly over to her, having finally spotted her, and gave her a quick hug. "I'll see you at Christmas break, then?" He ran his hand through her hair fondly and kissed her gently on her forehead.
"Yes daddy, I'll see you then." And impulsively, she hugged fiercely.
When she drew back, she looked up him, surprise clear on his face.
Feeling satisfied, she turned and hopped back onto the carriage, intent on staying out of sight to avoid any taunts that might come her way while her father was still on the platform.
When she sat down by the window, she watched her father's retreating back for a while, before, as he reached the barrier, he turned back around, and blew her a kiss.
She laughed and waved farewell.
------------ ------------ ------------
Luna checked her wrist watch for the fifth time in the past ten minutes. There were still a further ten minutes before the train was due to depart. Her inexplicably cheery mood from earlier on had vanished, and she found herself dwelling on the diary she had found this morning.
She sighed quietly to herself as she sat by the open window, her elbows propped up on the window sill, small hands gently tracing the surface of the delicate golden locket she wore about her neck on a long, fine chain- her mother's.
It had been a long morning.
Luna stared down at the locket in her hand, and squeezed it tightly.
Another year to look forward to.
"Here we go, mum. Maybe this year will be better." She placed the locket securely inside her robes, and pulled out her customary necklace, a protection ward against the evil eye, made of butterbeer caps.
She stood, shut the window gently, and turned to carefully examine the empty train compartment.
Others will come, she mused, they always do. There's never enough room on the Express.
With that last thought, she sat down once again on the red cushioned seat, adjusted the cork necklace she'd fashioned for herself but a few days ago, pulled out a fresh copy of The Quibbler that her father had given to her just this morning, and read.
------------ ------------ ------------
A/N: As the title suggests, hopefully a good beginning to a good story. We hope we've managed to keep Neville and Luna as they are portrayed in the official series, please drop us a line if you notice anything too out of character, and suggestions are always helpful.
The title, Deimos, is as a lot of you know, one of Mars' moons. We decided on this title because Mars is the Greek god of war, representing bravery and courage, where Deimos is a moon (Luna!) of mars. )
On another note, neither of us know Latin. So if anyone knows how to correctly express the Longbottom motto, please do drop us a line.
Please R & R!
- Sorrow & Fiery
Minor edits made 19/12/2005