Neville Longbottom lowered his head and carefully examined his intertwined fingers. It was the only thing he could do to keep himself occupied. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger had their heads together in whispered conversation. Ginny Weasley and Dean Thomas sat together laughing about something. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown were having an animated discussion.
Everyone seemed to be talking except him. Once again he became invisible to his fellow students at Hogwarts. Neville sighed, his shoulders drooping. He glanced at the empty space next to him. Would he ever have a real friend? Sure Harry, Ron and Hermione treated him decently, but did they ever hang out with him? Did they ever invite him along on whatever adventures they got themselves into?
Of course they wouldn't. I'd just mess everything up.
He frowned, thinking back to earlier in the day aboard the Hogwarts Express. He'd been so excited to show off his mimbulus mimbletonia to Harry. But as usual, things didn't go the way he intended. The cactus-like plant sprayed the entire compartment with stinksap. And who showed up a second later but Cho Chang, who got a great look at Harry covered in the stuff. Neville knew Harry was very fond of Cho. What must she have thought of Harry after seeing him like that? Neville wouldn't blame Harry if he never spoke to him again.
He was used to people not talking to him anyway.
A bit of a commotion arose in the Great Hall. Neville lifted his head and saw a line of First Years forming in front of the Sorting Hat. His eyes roamed over the little boys and girls, all of them looking so scared, like he must have looked at that age.
And what's changed since?
He frowned, rubbing the Gryffindor table with his index finger. Four full years here and he was still scared of . . . everything. Professor Snape, the Care of Magical Creatures class, Peeves the Poltergeist, exams, his Gran . . . girls.
Neville continued to scan the line of First Years.
Wait a minute.
His eyes rested on a girl taller than the rest. She looked much older than a First Year. Probably an exchange student. And her appearance . . . Neville blinked to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.
The slender girl had jet black hair with streaks of purple. Her face was rather pale, which accentuated her dark lipstick and eyeliner. She even wore a nose ring. He noticed she didn't smile. In fact, there seemed something dark about her.
She'll probably go into Slytherin.
The Sorting Hat went through its usual song, though this year it seemed to plead for the houses to get along better. Neville didn't have much faith in that happening.
"Abercrombie, Euan," the hat blurted, and the sorting began.
Try as he might, Neville couldn't take his eyes off the strange-looking girl. Most of the names called by the Sorting Hat faded in his ears like a gentle breeze. But his focus sharpened when the girl's turn came.
"Pettibone, Janice."
He watched this Janice Pettibone walk up to the chair rather casually. Neville remembered his fear when he'd been in that exact chair five years ago. This girl didn't have the slightest trepidation of sitting down and letting the hat go on her head.
He admired her for that.
"Mmm, this is a tough one," the hat said. "You do like to flirt with darkness, but something in your heart keeps you from embracing it fully."
Janice rolled her eyes.
"You're a smart one, too," the hat continued. "In an odd sort of way. But when I look deep down in you, I know the house you are suited for is . . . Gryffindor!"
Applause burst from the Gryffindor table . . . except from Neville. He didn't quite know how to feel about this.
His eyes never wavered from Janice Pettibone. With a quick smile and a shrug of the shoulders, she rose from the chair and headed over to the Gryffindor table. Neville again ignored the sorting as it went on, watching her stride alongside the table, searching for an empty space. His heart beat faster as she neared.
Then her eyes found his.
Panic gripped Neville like ice. He turned away and lowered his head. His breathing quickened. She saw me staring at her. Would she yell at him? Make fun of him? He could hear her footsteps click on the stone floor. Neville prayed she'd keep going.
"Hey. That seat taken?"
Neville swallowed. Somehow he managed to turn in his seat.
Janice stared down at him.
He took a ragged breath. Sweat drenched his palms.
"Is that seat taken?" Janice nodded to the empty space next to him. It was then he finally took note of her accent. American.
"Um . . . uh. No."
"Cool." Janice's dark lips lifted in a slight smile. She plopped down next to Neville, who fought to get his breathing under control.
"Janice Pettibone."
He nearly choked when she extended her hand to him. What girl would introduce herself to him?
"Um . . . I, uh . . . N-Neville Longb-bottom."
Hesitantly, he took her hand in his . . . and gasped when he realized how soaking wet his palm was.
"Do I make you nervous or something?" Janice asked with a raised eyebrow.
Neville's mouth hung silently open.
"I mean, it's like you stuck your hand in a bucket of water."
Neville wanted to shrink away. He tucked his head between his shoulders. "S-Sorry."
"Don't worry. And you don't have to be so nervous. I don't bite . . . unless you want me to."
A breath stuck in Neville's throat. His legs trembled. He heard snickers across the table. He glanced over to see Lavender and Parvati giggling and staring at Janice.
"Hey. Janice Pettibone." She reached across the table and shook hands with the two girls. Both gave her curious stares.
The American introduced herself to the others around them. Neville was grateful to have her attention off him. He kept thinking about that biting comment. Just from the way she looked Neville believed she actually would bite him if he asked. For a moment he wondered if Janice Pettibone might have a bit of vampire blood in her.
She likes to flirt with darkness. That's what the Sorting Hat said.
Neville looked up to find Janice staring at him. She gave him an almost predatory smile. He gulped loudly.
"So, Nev. What's the skinny on this place?"
"Um . . . huh?"
"You know. What's it like here? Good, bad, Indifferent. Snob factory, conformist factory, what?"
"Um . . . uh, it's all right."
Neville's heart continued its fierce pounding. His eyes focused on that nose ring. Why would anyone stick something like that in their nose?
"Haven't seen one of these before, I bet." Janice gently tapped her nose ring.
"No. Um, sorry." Neville lowered his eyes.
"Don't be sorry. Trust me, I'm used to being stared at."
Neville took another glance at her. For someone who supposedly "flirts with darkness," she seemed rather friendly. In fact, despite the nose ring, the weird hair and the dark lipstick, Janice Pettibone was kind of pretty.
Not that it really mattered. Outside of taking Ginny to the Yule Ball on a platonic date, he never had any luck with girls. And pretty or not, there was something unsettling about Janice Pettibone.
XXXXX
Neville walked out of Defense Against the Dark Arts in a daze. He gently rubbed his temple, trying to contemplate everything he'd seen in that class. The useless books given to them by their new professor, Dolores Umbridge, and Harry's outburst. If the rest of the year turned out to be anything like the first day, he wouldn't stand a chance of passing his O.W.Ls.
More importantly, he wouldn't stand a chance against You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters if he ever ran across them.
"Hey, Nev!"
He froze at the sound of the female voice. The chills returned, just like the other night at supper when he first met her.
Slowly, Neville turned around.
Janice Pettibone stomped toward him, brow furrowed, her narrowed eyes taking on a darker look.
"Is this for real?" She nodded to the classroom behind her.
"Huh? Is . . . Is what real?"
"This piss-poor excuse for Defense Against the Dark Arts. That textbook we have isn't fit for First Years, much less Fifth Years."
Neville's legs shook. Panic swirled inside him. "J-Janice. You'd better not say that too loud. P-Professor Umbridge . . ."
"Oh the hell with that hag!"
Neville gasped audibly. His eyes bulged from their sockets. Merlin help them, Umbridge must have heard that.
"Did you see the way she treated us? Shouting down anyone who asked a simple question. Cutting off anyone who happened to think differently than her. And that poor Harry Potter kid. Good for him standing up to that fascist."
"Janice, please you . . ." Neville stopped when he saw a huge mass of pink sidle up behind Janice.
"Miss Pettibone!"
Janice sighed and rolled her eyes. She whirled around on her heel to face Professor Umbridge. "Yeah?"
"I don't know how things are in America, but here in Britain the faculty of this school are to be shown proper respect."
"Even when it isn't earned?"
Neville's legs buckled. The panic inside him burst like water from a broken dam. He couldn't stop shaking as he watched Umbridge's face redden.
"It appears you'll be joining Mister Potter in detention this week, Miss Pettibone. And I assure you, young lady, when I'm finished with you, you will learn to behave yourself."
"Uh-huh."
Umbridge lifted her head in a gesture of superiority and strode back into the classroom.
Janice turned back to Neville. He couldn't believe she didn't have one ounce of worry or fear on her face. Even more unbelievable, she started laughing.
"What's so funny? You just got a week of detention."
"Yeah. I've barely been here twenty-four hours and I'm already in trouble. That's gotta be a new record for me."
She gave him another predatory smile and lightly tapped Neville on the shoulder.
"See you around, Nev."
He didn't say a word as he watched the American girl head off with a confident walk. His jaw hung open silently. He couldn't believe getting detention meant nothing to this girl. In fact, she treated like a joke, same as Ron's brothers Fred and George.
Janice Pettibone was trouble, he decided. And if he didn't want get sucked down with her, he needed to stay as far away from her as possible.
XXXXX
Neville yawned, his eyelids feeling like someone had tied heavy stones to them. He checked his wristwatch. After one in the morning. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep. But he needed to finish this essay for tomorrow's . . . rather, today's Potions Class.
He rubbed his eyes and put quill to paper. Now what would happen if he only put in five dragon teeth instead of six?
"Oh good. I'm not the only one who can't sleep."
Neville stopped writing. His heart pounded furiously. Sweat suddenly coated his hands.
Biting his lip, he slowly turned in his chair.
He stopped breathing when he saw Janice Pettibone sauntering into the Common Room. The invisible stones weighing down his eyelids vanished. Neville found it impossible to blink when he saw what Janice wore. A loose fitting black t-shirt with the words "IF IT AIN'T METAL IT'S CRAP" and dark red boxers. His eyes drifted to her bare legs. A bit thin, but rather firm. They looked nice.
"Oh jeez, are you working?"
Neville continued to stare at her. Sweat leaked all over his body. His brain screamed at him to go to some other part of Gryffindor Tower, somewhere away from this girl who seemed to like getting in trouble.
Then he looked at her legs again.
"I . . . I have to get this done. Or P-Professor Snape . . ."
"Oh God, him?" Janice shook her head and perched herself on the couch. "I swear I don't know which one is worse. Umbridge or that greasy-haired asshole. And I thought the teachers back at Fantimoor were bad."
"Fantimoor?"
"It's the wizarding school in Washington D.C. That's where I went before they transferred my dad to the U.S. Embassy in London."
"What does he do?"
"He's a Muggle. He's the FBI liaison for the embassy."
"FBI?"
"Federal Bureau of Investigation. They're like aurors."
Neville just nodded, thinking of his own parents before they . . .
"So how long have you been at it?" Janice asked.
"Um, I don't know. Three hours or so."
"Three hours? Nev, you need a break."
He swallowed, wondering what this girl may have in mind for their break.
Janice held up a box-like device with little earphones attached to thin wires. To him it looked like some sort of hand-held Wizarding Wireless.
"What's that?"
"My own little creation. Fantimoor's just like Hogwarts. Muggle devices won't work in here. And since I'd go stark raving mad without my music, I came up with my own little Wizarding Walkman. Magically downloaded all my favorite tunes into this thing. Come here." She patted the sofa. "Have a listen."
"M-Me?"
"I don't see anyone else around. Come on. Let me show you there's more to music than those posers the Weird Sisters."
Neville's stomach tightened. His heart threatened to explode from his chest. What would Gran think if she saw him with someone like this?
"It's only music, Nev. It's not gonna hurt you."
Part of him doubted that, especially with this girl.
His eyes drifted to her legs again. When he figured he stared at them long enough he looked up at her face. Her usual predatory smile was warmer, more inviting this time.
Neville pushed himself out of his chair and headed over to the couch, hoping his shaky legs would support him. Hesitating for a moment, he lowered himself next to Janice. Her smile widened.
"Now. Just put this in your ear . . ."
Neville took the little earpiece, and noticed bandages covering the back of Janice's hand.
"What happened to your hand?"
"Huh? Oh nothing, just a scratch. C'mon, let's go."
Holding his breath, Neville inserted the earpiece.
"All right. Prepare to be blown away." Janice tapped the walkman with her wand.
Noise exploded in Neville's ear. He yelped and jumped off the couch, the earpiece falling away.
"What . . . what was that?" He stuck a finger in his ear and rubbed, trying to get rid of the dull hum.
"It's called heavy metal. Metallica to be precise."
"You . . . how can you listen to that?"
"It beats listening to the crap that passes for music these days in the Wizarding World, or the Muggle World. This is real stuff, talking about defying authority, walking your own path, getting right up in someone's grill and yelling whatever's on your mind. Metal represents all the stuff people like Umbridge don't want us to be."
Neville bit his lip. He certainly didn't want to turn out anything like Dolores Umbridge.
"But it's so loud."
"It's supposed to be loud. To make sure those purveyors of conformity can hear it and realize not everyone is going to buy their bullcrap."
Neville rubbed his sweaty palms on his robes. He drew a breath and sat back down. "Okay."
He put in the earpiece and braced himself.
He winced when guitars and drums blasted into his brain.
"Listen carefully to the lyrics, Nev."
That would be a chore, given how much noise these instruments created. But he did pick up some words.
"Master of puppets I'm pulling your strings. Twisting your mind and smashing your dreams. Blinded by me, you can't see a thing. Just call my name 'cause I'll hear you scream . . . Master! Master!"
When the song ended he turned to Janice, shaking his head. "Wow. It's . . . it's like, that's just how Umbridge is. Twisting our minds, trying to blind us to the truth."
"Exactly."
Neville heart beat faster. Only this time, it wasn't fueled by fear.
"Um, Janice?"
"Yeah."
"Could . . . Could I listen to some more songs?"
XXXXX
"Neville. Enough with the humming already," Lavender Brown snapped at him.
"Sorry." Neville frowned and lowered his head as he continued down the hall to his History of Magic class. He'd been doing that often over the past few weeks. In the corridors, in the Common Room, even in some of his classes. One of the songs Janice played for him would pop into his head and he couldn't help himself. He had to hum it. Iron Maiden's "The Clansman," Judas Priest's "Breaking The Law," Evanescence's "Nobody's Fool." The song would change from day to day. Why did this music have such a hold on him? He wondered if it might be cursed somehow. Most of this hard rock and heavy metal possessed some dark overtones. At first he feared it might be leading him down some path that would turn him into a follower of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Soon he started to realize the music wasn't turning him evil. If anything it made him angrier about all the stuff going on lately at Hogwarts. Umbridge's inspections of the professors, her stupid Educational Decrees, her silencing of any form of dissension. With a wretched woman like that around it was easy to see why Janice so disliked authority figures.
Neville sighed, his pace slowing as he thought of the American girl. He liked Janice, though still had a healthy fear of her. He still had trouble getting used to her appearance. Anyone who looked like that he figured should be in Slytherin. And she couldn't seem to stay out of trouble. Every week she did something to land her in detention . . . and not just with Umbridge. Snape had given her a few, as had McGonagall. Even Trelawney gave her one. Trelawney! Though what could that nutter do after the fifth time Janice had called her class, "a bunch of bullcrap."
Why does she have to do things like that? If it wasn't for all the trouble she got into, and if she looked more . . . normal, he might . . .
Neville shook his head. Who was he kidding? No girl would like him that way.
He entered the classroom and immediately searched out Janice. He found her at the same desk as Harry and Ron, where she appeared in deep conversation with the former. Neville noticed her pointing to her bandaged hand. Why was her right hand still bandaged? Every time he asked she'd just dismiss it as a cut.
How many times can you cut the same hand?
He thought about pressing the issue, but figured Janice would get mad at him. He didn't want to anger one of the few people at this school who would actually speak to him on a consistent basis.
Neville took a seat next to Dean Thomas just as Professor Binns floated into the classroom. The ghost picked up a textbook and read from it in his monotone voice. Neville took notes while most of the rest of the class slept or chatted quietly. Janice looked like she was doodling on her parchment.
After class Janice strode over to him, shaking her head. "My God, I didn't think this class could get any more boring. Was Binns the only one who applied for this job, because I think that Womping Willow outside could do a better job teaching this class."
Neville swallowed. Janice had said it loud enough for everyone in the class to hear. His neck muscles tightened as he turned to the front of the classroom, expecting Professor Binns to reprimand Janice.
Instead the old ghost floated through the blackboard and vanished.
"Come on, Nev." Janice nodded toward the door. "I need a pick me up after this snoozefest."
Excitement sparked within him. Neville knew what a pick me up for Janice entailed.
They walked through the corridor until the spotted an empty bench and sat. She pulled out her Wizarding Walkman and handed one of the earpieces to Neville.
"I just put this one in yesterday. Trust me. You're gonna love it."
Neville inserted the earpiece. At first he was surprised to hear the sound of a piano. The hard-driving guitar common to most of the songs Janice listened to followed, along with a woman's operatic voice.
"This is me, for forever, one of the lost ones . . ."
Janice bobbed her head up and down to the music. Neville wanted to, but refrained, afraid of the looks passersby would give.
His eyes fixed on Janice, her black and purple hair flailing wildly. At times like this he admired her free spirit attitude. She did what she wanted and didn't care if people gave her strange looks.
"Oh how I wish, for soothing rain. Oh how I wish to dream again. My loving heart, lost in the dark, for hope I'd give my everything."
His heartbeat quickened. He couldn't take his eyes off Janice. He didn't want to. The song couldn't be more right. He did feel like his heart was lost in the dark. And if he did hope for . . . well, that hope would probably be in vain.
"You like?" Janice asked once the song ended.
"What? Oh yeah. Who is this?"
"Nightwish. They're a metal opera band from Finland. 'Nemo' is, like, their best song. Here, let me play another one. We can dedicate it to Umbridge's stupid class. 'Planet Hell.'"
The song had a much harder beat than 'Nemo.'
"Denying, the lying. A million children fighting. For lives, in strife. For hope beyond the horizon. A dead world, a dark path. Not even crossroads to choose from."
Neville couldn't help himself. His head began to bob. A smile formed on his face. He didn't care what people who passed by thought. He was enjoying himself.
"What are you two doing?"
A fiery spear of terror sliced through Neville. He tried to look up, but fear paralyzed him. Not that he needed to look up to know who that voice belonged to.
Professor Umbridge.
"I asked what you two were doing, and I would like an answer now."
"We're listening to music," Janice answered.
"What sort of music?"
"Good music."
"I shall be the judge of that."
Neville finally overcame his fear-induced paralysis and lifted his head. Umbridge stretched out her arm, palm flat. Janice removed her earpiece. Neville did likewise before Janice placed the Wizarding Walkman in Umbridge's chunky palm.
"How does it work?"
Janice gave the woman a quick tutorial. Umbridge inserted the earpiece and tapped the walkman with her wand.
She screamed as if being tortured. Umbridge yanked out the earpiece and clutched her chest, breathing heavy.
"What . . . what sort of sickening noise is this?"
"Actually, that's Nightwish. If it's sickening noise you want, I'd suggest Ashlee Simpson or N'Sync."
Umbridge tried to get her breathing under control. "You . . . You're Muggle-born, correct?"
"Yeah. So?"
"So is this Muggle music?"
"Again . . . Yeah. So?"
"No, no, no. This will not do. We cannot allow this sort of filth to disrupt the educational process at Hogwarts."
"Who's we?" Janice made no attempt to hide her anger.
"Myself and the Ministry of Magic, that's who, young lady. I will have to post another Educational Decree forbidding Muggle music on school grounds."
"What?" Janice jumped off the bench. "What the hell for?"
"Ten points from Gryffindor for foul language. And I'm doing this because we do not need any influences from that other world polluting our own."
The pale skin on Janice's cheeks vanished, replaced by a fiery red. "'That other world'? 'Polluting our own'? Can you hear yourself? What are you, some sort of bigot?"
Now Umbridge's fleshy face glowed red.
"Janice, please." Neville urged.
She ignored him, glaring at Umbridge.
"Is it bigoted to preserve the traditions that have made the Wizarding World great for centuries?" Umbridge spoke very deliberately. "Is it bigoted to do everything within your power to fight those who would seek to pervert those traditions?"
"By 'those' do you mean poor wayward Mudbloods like me?"
Neville's eyes widened. He couldn't believe even Janice would use that slur to describe herself.
Umbridge took a step toward her. Janice didn't back down.
The DADA professor put on a warm smile. "The Muggles have their world, and we have ours. And that's how it should be. And we don't need your kind coming into our world to spread discord with your radical ideas."
Neville went numb with shock. In all his years at Hogwarts he'd never heard any teacher utter something so blatantly racist.
His shock soon crumbled, replaced by something else.
Anger. It burned white hot within him. If only he could express it. Stand up and holler in this ugly toad's face.
Defend Janice's honor.
Janice, however, showed she was perfectly capable of doing that herself.
"Go to hell, you racist cow."
Neville nearly fainted when he heard those words come out of his friend's mouth. Never in his life could he believe a student would say something like that to a teacher.
Umbridge appeared equally stunned. She took a step back. Her mouth opened, but no sound came from it.
"My office, Miss Pettibone," she hissed. "Now."
Janice snorted and rolled her eyes. She took a quick glance in his direction. "See you later, Nev."
Janice stomped down the corridor.
Umbridge began to follow, then turned back to Neville. His entire body trembled.
"Mister Longbottom. You'd do well to find yourself more . . . acceptable company."
Umbridge waddled off.
Neville stood in the hallway, his mind working to comprehend everything that had just happened. He could easily say Janice was way out of line, even for her. But Umbridge's comments . . . and banning Muggle music. How could that possibly disrupt things at Hogwarts? Especially if only he and Janice listened to it.
The flames of anger grew inside him. He could only imagine what Umbridge would say to Janice in her office. Would she hurl more racist insults at her? Would she expel her from Hogwarts? That thought made his stomach twist in anxious knots.
Neville slowly ran his fingers through his dark hair. His breathing turned into loud grunts. Umbridge's fat ugly face blazed in his mind. His ears rang with her horrible words to Janice.
Neville spotted a waste bin nearby. With a roar he kicked it and sent it bouncing down the corridor.
TO BE CONTINUED
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The lyrics are solely those of Metallica and Nightwish and are used in this story for purely fictional purposes. And obviously, I don't own Harry Potter, though Janice Pettibone is my original character.