Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Hey thurrrr. This is for myrrhmonkey96's writer's block prompts :3 I have three left after this one, so don't think I'm done! The prompt this time is "a rope about to snap." I hope you enjoy it, even if it's as short as Daniel Radcliffe.
The shingles weren't comfortable, especially not against his worn-thin jeans. Neither did they make his feet since, but instead scream in agony as he walked across the roof of his grandmother's house, which was still damp from a summer storm. This, perhaps, was the only time he seemed brave to the world, Neville pondered. As he sat upon the gable he had hiked in earnest towards and looked out over the sloping hills that surrounded the solitary house he had lived in for as long as he could remember- a house that he could still not call his- he knew that he was different.
Another storm was rolling in; the dark, looming clouds in the distance grumbled and blinked an affirmation of Neville's beliefs. He had only spotted the tempest once he had climbed out of the bathroom window, and once he had shimmied out onto the sloped gable, there was no turning back for the Longbottom. It took so much effort to get so high up, away from the nagging world below, and Neville didn't want to descend from this haven of his. He wasn't ready to go back yet.
As if sensing his fear of the world, of the lower ground that had always been safer for a boy as unfortunate as Neville, the storm gurgled and roared at him. Each clap of thunder meant to intimidate him back to the place where he had stayed comfortably, quietly, and without a challenge. In that place, he was forgiven when he fell flat. It was warm and sheltering, but not right. Returning to that place... It just wouldn't be right.
"No!" Neville parked at the storm, at the sky, at the universe."I won't go back down! I can't anymore! I can't give up!" That was the conventional thing to do- the reasonable thing to do. Everyone expected it of Neville, for he had never risen to the occasion. Neville simply wasn't exceptional.
And that... that was the robe about to snap. The rope that tied him down- to the ground, to his fears, to the meager expectations he had formed for himself. It needed to break- he was needed. Had Neville ever been needed before...?
The storm had come. It was upon him it all its fury. Lightning galloped through the air, each flash a prequel to the bellowing howl of the portentous clouds. Rain fell in a curtain, drenching Neville to the bone. Once upon a time, he had been terrified of thunderstorms. Their magnificence and power still made him shudder in his sheets. He'd cling to the yielding cotton, and soon sweat would drench his heated body like rain would drench the world.
But this time, Neville did not cringe. When lightning struck and thunder clapped, he did not flinch. Instead, the storm enveloped him, and he laughed. This was the first time he had allowed himself to get caught in the passion of summer rain, and it was a thrill. It was as if the storm was celebrating him, a thundering applause for his bravery, his wit, his cunning mind.
The storm disappeared just as quickly as it had came. When it had moved on, a slight feeling of emptiness nuzzled down into the pit of Neville's stomach. For a moment, he had felt what he was meant to be, and it was beautiful. Neville had always admired those absurd stories- when people were caught in warm rain and had epiphanies. But now, he shivered involuntarily as a breeze, chasing after the storm now in the distance, caught him off guard.
Neville stared longingly after the clouds that had bypassed him, watching the flickers of lightning now soundlessly. For a moment, he recalled memories he had intruded upon in his grandmother's pensieve. White explosions of spells in a battle hosted by the sky. The night he lost his parents.
He shook it off- he had learned to do it well. That was nothing like a battle. It was a sudden summer thunderstorm, and nothing more. In his mind's eye, Neville could see himself turning the end of a cord, frayed and broken, over in his hands.
Suddenly, the words of Hermione, her voice low as she spoke to her two best friends, came to mind. "Everything's going to change now, isn't it?"
"Yes."
I was originally going to make this for Rodolphus, about how seeing his wife swoon and sigh over the Dark Lord caused him to go insane. But then, when I was really, really, really peeved with my father, I went to sit out on the roof like I do whenever I'm angry. Well, I didn't know a thunderstorm was approaching, and those five minutes of me being drenched and terrified by the lightning was really inspiring. That and it completely quelled my wrath :P Somehow, I just had to write about Neville after that... And here's the product.
Oh, and I suppose I ought to explain the title. Auspex is a Latin term for "augur." Augurs were priests/oracles in Ancient Rome that studied the flight of birds and other natural phenomenon to predict the future. I wanted to pay a little homage to how this piece is pure foreshadowing. It takes place around his fifth and sixth years, mind you. I couldn't really decide. It's just meant to be the trigger that helps Neville find his inner, braver and more powerful self. So when you think his transformation really began, it's then. Up to you.
REVIEW! :3