Chapter One

Neville Longbottom peered out from the shadows of his dark alcove as laughter sounded down the dimly lit corridor. The last few stragglers from the end of the year feast were slowly making their way back to the dorms before their early departure the next morning. Honey colored eyes narrowed on the two students as one paused to whisper something conspiringly in the others ear causing them both to break out in peals of laughter once more before disappearing around the corner.

Neville sighed softly in relief before he emerged the the alcove. He walked stiffly down the corridor in the opposite direction of the students. Right now going back to his dorm room was not an option. All year he had put up with the ridicule of his peers. Since his first day they made fun of his forgetfulness and after that incident with Malfoy during Flying Lessons the bullying had only grown worse.

The young boy clenched his fist tightly around his wand, his knuckles turning white. No, not his wand. His father's wand. His Grandmother, Augusta, had given it to him the day after his Uncle had dropped him out the window to see if he had magic. They had been so proud when all he did was bounce a few times but Neville had never forgotten the malicious way his Uncle had smiled when he pretended to accidentally let go of his ankles. And that wasn't even the first time either. A few months before that Uncle Algie had pushed him off the pier knowing he couldn't swim and before THAT, he had- No, he didn't want to think about that.

When his Grandmother had given him the wand she had told him that his father was a very powerful wizard and did many great things. The look in her eyes was enough to show him that his Grandmother wasn't quite all there anymore as they stared right through him and into the memory of her long lost son. He had tried to prove himself though. Prove to his family and his classmates that he was a true Gryffindor and not the spineless dim creature they and his Uncle all seemed to think he was. But all of it backfired. Instead of saving his fellow housemates Headmaster Dumbledore saw fit to make a mockery of him in front of the entire school. After awarding the most points to the other three for breaking the rules of the school, the Headmaster had casually awarded him points as well, claiming it was for "courage".

What a load of bollocks that was.

"Courage indeed…" He murmured to himself as he walked down a staircase that led deeper into the heart of the castle.

The Headmaster had essentially announced to everyone in the school that he had all but snitched on his dorm mates. Potter, Weasley, and Granger had lost their house a lot of points throughout the year and were always being reckless and getting into trouble, breaking rules and endangering themselves and others. He had noticed Potter and Weasley sneaking out of bed and overheard their plan to investigate whatever was on the third floor. Neville recalled that Dumbledore had said whatever was up there could kill someone and Potter had already helped him with Malfoy. He had felt that he owed him a debt, so he had approached them to tell them how reckless and stupid they were being when the Granger girl petrified him leaving one of the Prefects to find him the next morning.

There were already whispers of his so-called betrayal all throughout the feast that night and watching as his fellow Gryffindors dubbed Potter, Weasley, and Granger as "The Golden Trio" made his stomach roil. He had pushed his food around his plate and taken a few sips of his pumpkin juice before he snuck out of the feast early. He had been wandering the halls ever since.

A breeze of warm earthy air caressed his face as he stepped through an archway into a secluded courtyard. The smell of night blooming flora thickened the air with its strong fragrances. Taking a deep breath he started identifying each by smell.

"Jasmine, Devils Trumpet, Honeysuckle, and…" he felt himself begin to slowly relax with each name, "Dusk Blooming Choke Vines." A small smile formed at the corners of his mouth.

He glanced around the courtyard walking slowly along the moonlit path. He wasn't worried about getting caught out past curfew. No one ever really roamed this far into the castle. In fact he had always thought it strange that more people didn't venture into the dusty forgotten parts of the school. Not even the ghosts explored beyond the main, well-known, rooms and corridors. He had to credit his discovery to his forgetfulness. During the first few days of classes he had been so lost that he chose the wrong moving staircase and ended up walking down a long empty corridor. He had quickly realized that such a large castle would have a lot of unused space. After about 3 hours of wandering around aimlessly he eventually found himself back in the main part of the school but not before he had discovered this beautiful garden.

Ever since that time he had been able to find the old parts of the castle easily even when he thought he was going to get lost. But he didn't explore further than the courtyard he had found that first day. It wasn't that the empty rooms and barren corridors scared him either. Rather it was the strange tugging sensation he always felt when he went too deep and walking away always seemed to leave a sharp tightness in his chest. Instead he had decided to keep to the now familiar corridor of rooms that led to his courtyard.

Loosening his tie he decided to lay down in the soft grass by some Moon Flowers, they gave off a light blue glow that illuminated his face softly and when the breeze hit their petals it caused them to tinkle like windchimes. The sound of them was a balm against his agitation and restless thoughts. Brushing his dark brunette hair out of his face and lifting his arms to rest under his head, he closed his eyes to let their music help him think.

His mind drifted back to his Grandmother. The old woman was quickly becoming senile and with her mind, her magic had begun to fail as well. It was during Yule break when his Grandmother had started to call him Frank, his father's name, and when he tried to tell her that he wasn't, that he was Neville her grandson, she grew confused and quickly agitated. The last time it had happened she threw a priceless bust of some long forgotten Longbottom at him while yelling obscenities. After that his Uncle had come in and started yelling at him for upsetting her and her "delicate" disposition. It was the Head Butler, Birch, who had discreetly ushered him to his own rooms and spent the rest of the evening keeping him company on his windowed balcony and his many plants.

Thinking of Birch made him smile. The man wasn't just a servant to Neville, he was like a guardian of sorts. After his Uncle had dropped him out the window Birch was the only one who had come rushing to him to see if he was alright. The worry and fear across the man's face had eased the pain of his Uncle's betrayal into a dull smarting pain rather that the sharp tightness that made him feel like his heart was going to explode. After that Birch had taken to keeping Neville as far away from his Uncle as possible and ran interference whenever his Uncle was particularly angry especially when Neville did something that wasn't to his Uncle's expectations.

Thoughts of expectations brought him right back to the turbulent anger of that night's events and he felt his magic seep into the air around him making the the Moon Flowers glow even brighter. They were just like his Uncle, cruel and twisted. They all wanted something from him and they were never pleased with what he had to give. He never really voiced it out loud but sometimes he wished he went to a different school than Hogwarts and he spent most of his classes slipping into daydreams of a place where professor Snape didn't rip into him for no reason or where he had his own room to himself. His Grandmother would never have it though, after all her son and his wife had attended Hogwarts and fallen in love here, she couldn't accept that Neville was any different. He may as well be a ghost in her eyes, haunting her and reminding her of the son she had lost.

Neville sighed restlessly as he rolled over to lay on his stomach, his cheek resting against his arms. He stared at the grass as it glittered in the moonlight with his every breath and as the warm breeze rustled the trees softly he found himself drifting off to sleep.

oOo

The train whistle blew loudly as they left the platform at Hogsmeade. Neville watched as Hagrid waved them off and the train began to pick up speed. He didn't bother to wave back. Hagrid wouldn't even notice. Turning back to the empty compartment he had managed to find he stared at the old upholstered seats world outside his compartment was rowdy with excited students ready to go home to their families. Neville sighed deeply. A melancholy had settled over him that he just couldn't shake.

"This one looks empty!" a female voice sounded outside his compartment before the door slid open.

Neville watched as a girl with short black hair leaned into the compartment. Behind him a few other Slytherin's peered over her shoulder.

"It's a Gryffindor" she sneered at him while the Slytherins behind him laughed mockingly.

Anger spiked within him for a moment as they laughed and he felt his magic respond to the clenching of his fists, and he felt it leave him just as quickly. Only to be replaced by a veil of forced indifference. The dark haired girl standing in the doorway sneered at his blank expression and slammed the door closed and he listened carefully as their laughter and footsteps faded as they traveled further down the train.

He was so tired of people laughing at him. Was it ever going to change? Neville shook his head tiredly as all energy left him and he slouched. Turning to lean his head against the back of his seat he casually lifted his wand to the door and cast a locking charm.

A startling rapsounded on his compartment door and the Train Stewardess yelled that they would be arriving in 20 minutes. Stretching in his seat Neville ran a hand through his dark locks of hair before opening his trunk to change his clothes to those "appropriate for a pureblood of his standing" his Uncle would say. Not that his Uncle cared overly much about blood status, it was status in general that made his Uncle power hungry.

Attempting to straighten his hair one last time as the train whistle blew loudly and slowly came to a halt, it was with a heavy heart that he watched a steward place his trunk on a trolly before he stepped down and off the train. Searching the milling crowd of families and children for his Grandmother, hoping that she was in one of her good moods this time, he was surprised to see Birch standing stoically amongst the crowd waiting for Neville to notice him. As he weaved his way around happy reunions he noticed that many people were starting to stare at his Butler with curiosity. Even the purebloods would glance at him and lean towards each other to whisper quietly. A deep blush appeared on his cheeks as he stopped his trolly and stared up into the calm blue eyes of his friend.

"Young Master Neville," Birch bowed lowly and when he rose his eyes had softened with a small smile. "I trust your trip was pleasant?"

When Birch had started to bow the platform had seemed to hush for a moment before the whispers picked up loudly. It was unusual for a Pureblood Family to have humans as servants. Most considered it to be a mark of wealth to own house elves and while the Longbottom's did have contracts with a few house elf clans, they were not the only species that worked there. A human servant meant two possible things, that the Longbottom's were very wealthy, or that they were very poor.

Although the Longbottom's we're considered one of the sacred twenty-eight pureblood families there were still always those looking to bring down their reputation. Many felt that the Longbottom's we're...odd. He had overheard his Aunt and Uncle talking with his Grandmother once about how the rest of the families were quickly declining in magical power. Each new generation was apparently growing weaker. He had listened at the door for hours before Birch had pulled him away to the gardens.

He was startled out of his thoughts when Birch placed a hand on his shoulder, "You shouldn't pay them any mind Young Master. You are a Longbottom and as such you need not subject yourself to caring about what the gossip mongers have to say. Let your Uncle deal with them." He smiled once more, this time his blue eyes crinkled with mirth and Neville felt a faint smile touch his lips. Birch always knew how to make him feel better.

After taking the arm that Birch offered him they and the trunk disapparated to the receiving hall of Longbottom Manor.

oOo

When they arrived in the receiving hall the Manor was quiet. It was a warm day outside so most of the servants and laborers were out working in the man greenhouses and gardens. Letting Birch take his cloak and trunk Neville rolled up his sleeves and grabbed a pair of the dragon hide gloves that sat in a wicker basket by the door. When Birch returned he too grabbed a pair of gloves and they both made their way towards on the furthest gardens.

"Hey Neville! Welcome home!" A short elf wearing overalls and a straw hat hopped up and down waving, his long ears flopping along with him.

He smiled and waved, "Hey Spit, how are the mandrakes in Greenhouse 12 doing?"

The elf ran up to him and grinned with amusement, "Well, they's have matured a bit since you left for school. Instead of crying and screaming like babies they keep refusing to eat the plant food we give em'." The elf shook its head, "Maybe youse can talk to em' Neville. They'll listen to you."

He looked off towards green house 12 in worry for a moment, "Perhaps I should, I think I'll talk to them on my way back from the Winter Garden." He looked to Birch and and he nodded before taking out a bound parchment book and writing something down with a sharpened piece of coal.

"Youse be goin' to the Winter Garden?" The elfs peculiar tone made him turn around to look at the elf.

"Yes, there were some plants we learned about in herbology this year that I thought would do well in the Winter garden." He examined the elf as it aveted it's eyes to look off towards the house and fingered his overalls nervously.

Spit was never one of the elves who was overly dramatic and if he was nervous that usually meant that something was wrong. Neville kneeled so that he could look Spit in the eye.

"What's going on Spit?"

Watery grey eyes stared into his own for a few moments as if searching for something before the elf looked back towards the Manor, "Master Longbottom has forbidden all workers from speaking about it. But Spit doesn't have to listen if Spit doesn't wants to." The elf shook its head quickly almost slapping Neville with it's ears.

"Of course you don't have to listen Spit." He frowned and placed a hand on the elf's shoulder. Spit turned sad eyes away from the house and back to him. "your family has a long standing contract with mine. Your not bound to us by magic so we can't force you to do anything against your own will. You do have a choice. Now what's going on?"

The elf suddenly launched itself at him and Neville felt Birch place a hand on his back to keep him from toppling over. The elf was sobbing and hugging him tightly and he could feel the tears soaking his skin through his shirt and his throat clenched with worry. What the bloody hell was going on?

Rubbing Spit's back until he had calmed to small hiccoughs the elf wiped his eyes. "A few months before youse went off to school a somes of the sheltered veela workers were cut off from theys monthly allowances. Theys gathered a group and went to ask Master Longbottom about it, but he said that until theys agreed to bind thems to him magically they wouldn't receive a knut from from him."

Neville felt his magic responding to his anger and felt Birch's hand on his back disappear as his magic crackled angrily around him. He took a deep breath through is nose to try and rein it back in. Spit was watching him warily.

In as soft a voice he could manage he asked, "Spit, please continue."

"Wells, after that the veela started strugglings. Somes of the others tried to pitch in an help but Master Longbottom told thems that he would tear up their contracts if theys did. About a week ago the Leader, Arlet, got word that one of the veela had beens… had beens…" Spit shook his head again but this time his brows were furrowed in anger and disgust.

"Had been what?"

"Theys had been….hurt….Theys had bruises everywheres and theys had a split lip and Spit heard Arlet says that the veela told him it was Master Longbottom who beat thems."

He turned to Birch and he nodded before disapparating to go retrieve Artlet from the Veela Quarter.

"What does this have to do with the Winter Garden Spit?"

"Arlet confronted Master Longbottom and tolds him that he would go to the authorities. Master Longbottom dragged Arlet to the Winter Garden for…...punishments."

The elf looked off towards the manor again and Neville turned to look at the house. What was the elf looking at? A curtain in one of the windows was pulled back and his Uncle stepped out onto his office balcony. With an eep! Spit popped away and Neville stood to stare at the distant figure leaning on the terrace rail.

Birch apparated right behind him. "Young Master, you have to come quickly!" and the man grabbed his shoulders with wide fearful eyes and apparated them away.

~Nelui Wysteria~