DISCLAIMER:All characters, names, places, spells, etc., belong to J.K. Rowling.
NOTE: I know it doesn't make much sense for Uncle Algie's last name to be Longbottom if Augusta is Neville's paternal grandmother, so for the purposes of this story Longbottom was Augusta's maiden name, which she and her son Frank switched back to after she was divorced (unnecessary back stories ftw). This is mostly because I'm just not very good at coming up with names.
A WIZARD AFTER ALL
"Neville?" The bedroom door creaked open softly. On the bed, a small figure stirred under the covers. "Neville, get up now, it's time to get ready." No response. Augusta Longbottom gave her wand an irritated flick, and the room immediately filled with the horrendous clanging of several alarm clocks. "NEVILLE!"
The boy rolled onto his back and blinked sleepily at his grandmother. "Gran? Timezit?" he asked groggily.
"Ten-o'-clock," she informed him, stowing her wand in a pocket of her robe. "I wanted to let you sleep in a bit for your birthday, but this is ridiculous. Get dressed, we're leaving for Algernon's in an hour."
Neville groaned loudly. "Why?"
"He wants to celebrate your birthday with us."
"He wants to see if I can do any magic yet," Neville said darkly. "Would you mind leaving? I'm not wearing pants."
Gran sighed. "Honestly, Neville, sometimes I wish you weren't always so honest."
Once she was gone, he got out of bed and dressed himself in front of the mirror in an effort to make himself presentable. A pale, round-faced boy stared back. The lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead contrasted sharply with his fair complexion, the only physical sign of the tragedy that had struck the Longbottom family nearly ten years ago.
Neville had been told the story of his parents' death when he was very young, barely old enough to understand. It was crucial that he know, his grandmother had said, so that he could be proud of his parents and understand the sacrifice they had made for him. Frank and Alice Longbottom, talented young Aurors (Ministry of Magic officials whose job it was to apprehend Dark wizards), had been murdered in cold blood by Lord Voldemort, the most evil wizard of the century. When he was satisfied they were dead, he had rounded on Neville, but for some reason- nobody knew quite what- his killing curse had rebounded, leaving him broken, defeated. Voldemort- or You-Know-Who, as he was more commonly called- was now rumored to be in hiding somewhere, weak and powerless, but some still lived in fear that one day he might return.
"Are you ready yet?" Gran asked irritably from the other side of the door.
"Almost," Neville grunted, struggling to get his pants on properly; he had put both legs through one hole.
"We'll be using Floo powder," Gran said as they stood in front of the fireplace five minutes later. "Do tryto speak clearly this time- I don't want to have to rescue you from the Tower of London again." Neville blushed and reached into the jar of glittering powder his grandmother held. "Just a pinch- there you go- now throw it in and say "Algernon Longbottom's."
Neville stepped nervously toward the fireplace; Floo powder was far from his favorite way to travel.
"Algernon Longbottom's!" he squeaked, tossing the powder in and stepping into the flames.
Immediately, everything began spinning around him. Feeling dizzy, he closed his eyes, but that only made it worse. Just when he was sure he was going to be sick, the spinning stopped, and he landed with a hard THUD! on what felt like cold stone.
"Neville, m'boy!" came a cheery voice from above him. "You're here!"
Neville pushed himself up, coughing soot, and brushed off his clothes. He was standing in a well-furnished, but comfortable living room. A large man with gray hair and a warm, friendly face stood in front of him. "Hi, Great-uncle Algie," he said, reaching out to shake his hand.
"Get off that hearth, Nev, and let me have a look at you." Great-uncle Algie eyed him up and down and exclaimed, "You've gotten taller! Not that I'm surprised. After all, you're what, eleven now? Growing up fast there, boy!" He leaned in close to whisper in Neville's ear. "Speaking of which, have you managed to, er, do anything yet?"
As Neville shook his head, there was a roar of flames, and his grandmother stepped regally out of the large fireplace- well, as regally as one could with a giant stuffed vulture perched atop one's head. Neville didn't know why his grandmother always wore the absurd-looking hat, but in living memory he had never seen her go anywhere without it. It was her trademark, as much as Neville's was his lightning scar.
"Made it alright this time, then?" she said, brushing soot off her long green dress. "Well, that's something, at least. We still haven't gotten anything out of him," she added to Great-uncle Algie. "He never will have his father's talent, I'm afraid."
"Well, just give him time, Augusta. Nev's just a late bloomer. Some day, he'll shine, I'm sure of it."
"He's running out of time!" Gran said frustratedly. Neville got the impression they had forgotten he was there. "He's eleven years old today, Algernon, his time's almost up! If something doesn't happen soon..." Her voice trailed off and she began pacing around the room, the vulture's beak bobbing up and down in a disturbingly life-like manner as she stormed.
"Well, there's always bar-tending at the Leaky Cauldron," Great-uncle Algie suggested.
His easy-going tone did not please Gran. "No son of Frank and Alice Longbottom is going to make his living in a pub!"
"Take it easy, Augusta," he said. He grabbed something out of a bowl that sat on one of the end tables. He grinned at Neville, a determined gleam in his eyes. "Think fast, Neville."
"Wha- wait a sec-"
The next thing Neville knew was excruciating pain as the apple crashed right into his nose. He felt his nose break and collapsed to his knees, howling as blood began to gush down the front of his shirt. Eyes watering, face throbbing, he did his best to glower at Great-uncle Algie, but all he could manage was a sort of teary-eyed blinking. He wiped his nose across his sleeve. "Really, Neville!" Gran snapped, looming over him with the sort of expression one might give a poorly-behaved puppy. She took out her wand and tapped it wordlessly against the side of his swollen nose. There was a moment of terrible pain as his nose realigned itself, but then it was gone and the bleeding ceased. She used a second spell to siphon the blood from his shirt and the carpet.
"Well, that was effective," she said sarcastically, turning to face her brother. "Was that enough, or would you prefer to fire a Killing Curse at him and see if he can block it?"
Great-uncle Algie looked somewhat ashamed. "Augusta," he said. "If you don't mind, I'd like to talk to you in the kitchen. Nev, why don't you go outside and get some water from the well?"
"Fine," Neville grumbled. What use was magic to the adults, he wondered, if they were just going to make him do all their chores anyway He couldn't see why everyone was so determined that he should have any magical ability. Sure, it might be convenient sometimes for things he didn't want to do, and Hogwarts would probably be fun, but Muggles got along alright without magic, didn't they? But Gran seemed to think that the worst thing a person could possibly be was a Squib, which, after eleven years and no signs of any magic powers, Neville was fairly certain he was.
As he was walking back to the house with a pail full of water, he heard voices coming from the open kitchen window; clearly, the adults didn't think he could hear them. "...hoping I might be able to force some magic out of him," Great-uncle Algie was saying. "It's a well-known fact, Augusta, that stressful or dangerous situations can cause random outbursts of magic in young witches and wizards..."
"That would be why you pushed him off the pier when he was seven, then," Gran replied in a matter-of-fact tone that did not mask her irritation- though whether this irritation was directed at Great-uncle Algie or himself, he wasn't sure. "It's time we faced facts, Algernon- the boy is hopeless, and no amount of broken noses or near-drownings is going to change that."
Neville felt sick with anger and shame. Hopeless, was he? He was sick of being constantly looked down upon, or worse, compared to his parents. Gran wasn't going to be satisfied until he was as great a wizard as his father had been. He was never going to be good enough, never going to live up to the bar set by a man he had never even known.
He burst in through the kitchen door, shaking with white-hot fury. "Good conversation?" he asked, in a voice that was uncharacteristically cold.
"Neville!" Gran nearly dropped the cup of tea in her hands. "Were you eavesdropping on us?"
Normally, Neville rather feared his grandmother- though a very capable guardian, and loving in her way, she was not a woman to be crossed. Now, however, his fear was smothered by the rage that was quickly threatening to boil over. "Next time," he said quietly, "you might want to be sure the window's closed before you start talking about me behind my back."
The kitchen fell silent. Something was happening. The kitchen seemed to be vibrating slightly, as if in a mild earthquake- lights began flickering on and off- and then, to Neville's amazement as much as anyone else's, the kitchen table and everything on it lifted of the floor. It hovered in the air for a moment, inches from the ceiling. All three stared in disbelief, not quite sure what to do, and before any of them had made up their minds on that particular subject the table came falling back down to the floor, where it landed with a resounding CRASH! Glass shattered, food flew, hot tea splattered over all of them as Gran shrieked, Great-uncle Algie leapt from his chair, and Neville stood in a sort of daze as the terrifying scene unfolded before him.
"NEVILLE FRANCIS LONGBOTTOM!" Gran roared, shaking tea from her hands and hair. "WHAT IN THE NAME OF MERLIN DO YOU MEAN BY ALL OF THIS?"
Neville shrank back against the counter, his usual fear suddenly returned. "I- I don't know what happened.
"LEVITATING FURNITURE, SHATTERING HEIRLOOM CHINA, DESTROYING THE KITCHEN-"
"Augusta..." Great-uncle Algie said weakly.
"-HOW YOU'RE EVER GOING TO MAKE UP FOR THIS- IF YOUR PARENTS COULD SEE YOU NOW- DON'T KNOW WHEN I'VE EVER BEEN MORE ASHAMED-"
"Augusta!" he interrupted, a little more insistently this time.
"What could you possibly need, Algernon?"
"Don't you hear what you're saying? Shattering china... levitating furniture... the boy's done it, Augusta, he's finally done it!"
"Done what?"
"Magic!" Great-uncle Algie was practically jumping up and down with joy. "Congratulations, Nev!" he cried, wrapping Neville in a bear hug that nearly suffocated him. "Looks like you're a wizard after all!"
"A wizard," Neville breathed. Never, in his wildest dreams...
"Well," Gran said in a business-like tone. "That's... I mean to say... congratulations." The praise sounded forced, but it was good enough for Neville. "Well, let's get this place cleaned up!"
A few quick Reparo charms took care of the broken glass, but Neville was left to clean up the splattered tea. He didn't much care- his mind was in too much of a whirl to focus on anything other than the one thought that kept replaying itself like a broken record. I'm a wizard... I'm not a Squib... I'm a wizard...
"Shall we do cake?" Great-uncle Algie asked an hour later, when Neville had finally finished cleaning. He placed a silver cake tray on the table, tapped it with his wand, and at once a magnificent cake appeared, all gooey chocolate with blue icing spelling out Happy Birthday, Neville! Neville grinned widely and took a seat at the table.
"Neville..." His grandmother fumbled for something in the huge handbag she had brought with her- much like the hat, the bag went everywhere she did. "I've got something here. For your birthday. I wasn't sure I'd ever get the chance to give it to you, but now... well..." She passed him a long box, tied shut with a piece of ribbon. Neville thought he knew what it was.
"Gran..." he said quietly as he loosened the ribbon.
"It was your father's," she told him as he took removed the wand carefully from its velvet-lined box. "He performed great magic with this wand. I expect you to do the same." Neville grinned. Coming from Gran, that was a loving sentiment.
A piercing screech came from the direction of the window. Neville looked up to see a large, handsome barn owl perched on the sill. "Here it is!" Great-uncle Algie cried, clapping his hands in excitement. Neville's heart thumped wildly. This was all happening so fast...
Gran untied the envelope from the owl's leg, paid him, and handed the letter to Neville. "I suspect you know what this is."
Mr. N. Longbottom
The Kitchen
Algernon Longbottom Residence
Pluckley
Kent
It was sealed with wax on the back- the seal of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Neville felt a warmth on his cheeks, and when he touched them, he realized they were wet. But for the first time in his life, they were not tears of sadness, or frustration- they were tears of joy.
I'm a wizard.
