Second: Continued Correspondence
That Sunday evening, Neville made his way to the seventh floor. His eyes landed on the very window sill that he'd willingly left his journal on. Seated up against the wall and touching the glass was the leather bound journal. He practically dashed over to grab it. It had gone missing sometime while he was attending Dinner on Friday evening. On Saturday he chanced a quick look to see if it would be back yet, but found it still missing. So, Sunday arrived and he knew he had to wait until at least after Dinner. At one point, he thought he could be so bold as to stick around and see the mysterious Commenter. He ended up staying away.
Let the whole thing be a mystery for at least a tab bit longer, Neville had told himself as he paced around the foot of his bed just before curfew. Now, he had procured it safely for a second time. He thumbed through until he was at the very end of his own section of notes to find another bit of writing very unlike his own. It was thin and sharp, but so precise.
Neville read it as he walked back towards the Portrait. He glanced up every so often to make sure he wasn't walking head first into a wall. It said:
I will have you know that I got that O and Prof. Sprout was surprised. Not that I get… T's or anything, but I typically only do enough to get an Acceptable or E (if I try). However, I did have to manage an E in order to get into the O.W.L.s level class. After a month of getting by, she probably thought I was simply a lost cause. I don't normally spend so much time thinking about my grades. Thanks… I guess. If there is some class you need something from then some exchange might be wanted of me? Tell me what you need. Since you knew some of those things, I'm guessing you're a Sixth year? A Fifth year at the very least?
Neville stated the Password and was admitted inside the Common Room. He hurried along the steps and towards his bed so he could reply. Seamus and Dean were working on last minute homework at the table and cried out for him to join them, but he'd shook his head and called out, "Did it earlier" before vanishing from their sight and out of earshot. Ron and Harry were inside the Fifth year boy's dormitory room. They were playing chess while Ron griped about something or other. Neville grinned in passing and crawled into bed before closing the hangings and getting his bag out.
He pressed the quill tip to the page and sucked on the end for a second before dabbing it into the inkwell and writing,
Glad to hear it. I wouldn't have liked to face whatever wrath awaiting a failure. I try to make sure I'm accurate. Well, I'm not atrociously bad at any particular class really… Well, perhaps Potions, but that because I'm a little… intimidated by the Professor. So, unless you can bottle some courage then I think I'm helpless.
I'm a fifth year; haven't had the misfortune of taking the O.W.L.s just yet, but I suppose that's only until the end of next term. Since, you did, I'm guessing that you're at least a Sixth year?
Neville closed the journal after a quick drying spell and slipped it back inside his bag. He only wished that it would not be taking a whole week before he could leave it in hopes of getting yet another response. If only he could know for sure that no one else would take it in the other days of the week. Also, what were the chances of his Mysterious Reader coming to the seventh corridor outside of having Divinations?
He dropped his bag outside of his curtain and lay back against his pillow. He might possibly have a friend on his hands. There was a happiness that crept along behind this realization. They didn't know him as Neville the Forgetful, but as the owner of a useful journal. Neville got out of bed and went to take a quick shower so that he could settle into bed and worry about what he wanted to do as his next move.
This secret pen pal type exchange he had going made him feel open. As open as a book he left sitting out on a window's ledge. To say he'd been upset in the beginning was an understatement, but as time began to pass through that next week he starting thinking about how he could be anyone inside his journal. He did not have to be weak, timid, and shy Neville Longbottom. This Mystery Reader did not ever have to know that he was just some meek little Gryffindor out of his element. He liked the idea. By Friday, he'd filled up several pages with sketches. Some of them of herbs and some of them of random things scattered about the school—because he remembered the first little set of comments that said he was talented. He put that to the test and found that he was able to replicate random objects if he truly set his mind to it. He drew his quill and bottle of ink. He drew the Divinations Tower.
As Friday evening rolled into sight he hurried up to the Seventh Floor corridor to drop of the book where he had the last two occurrences. Just as the time before, he wished he could stick around, but as the footfalls and chatting grew the more his heart beat against his ribs and the harder it was to tell his legs to resign going further down the passage and out of the line of sight.
On Saturday, they were all getting ready to head out to Hogsmeade. He'd be joining his party of companions—including Ginny and Hermione—during breakfast where they planned on heading into the village together. He happened upon Luna Lovegood, who'd been meandering through the Seventh floor corridor hallway as he had left through the entrance. "Morning, Neville," she said in her fanciful voice. Her bright eyes fell on his and she cocked her head to the side. "What are you doing?"
Neville had wanted to see if his notebook had been taken or left, but he didn't want her to see. He did not, however, wish to draw an attention to it, incase Luna felt it necessary to badger him about what it was doing left in the window. Then, he'd feel uncertain about leaving it there. Not to say, someone else couldn't stumble upon it and take it—rather than his Mystery Reader. Maybe Luna was the Mysterious Reader… He'd have to find out without drawing attention. He wanted to be able to keep his identity a secret. He knew that none of his Gryffinor Friends were the one taking it and writing, because they would have simply returned it.
Finally, Neville settled on a slight shrug of his shoulders and said, "I was just walking about before heading to Breakfast."
"Are you going to Hogsmeade?"
Neville nodded.
"We can walk there if you want."
"Erm… sure that sounds nice. I'd like that."
Neville's eyes travelled the length of the hall and towards the windows. From this far away he wouldn't be able to see if a small leather spine was poking out. He pressed his lips together firmly and suggested that they hurried to breakfast. "What were you doing up here anyway?"
"I was hoping to find someone to go to Hogsmeade with. I knew you wouldn't let me down." She gave a quaint smile and Neville nodded dumbly.
They two of them went down to the front hall and found that their party was already about to take off.
"Oh, Neville," Hermione said, "We can stay a little longer so that you can eat."
"It's fine. It really is. I missed out… My own fault really."
"There will be plenty of food in Hogsmeade. Let's get on already," Ginny piped up.
The three girls, along with Neville who trailed behind, took towards a fun filled day outside of Hogwarts. It was calm and relaxing out in the grounds and when they were on the trail to Hogsmeade they passed other students all hoping to have just as pleasant a time. Neville's first stop was at Honeydukes. He bought a sugar quill so that he could suck on that instead of ruining his actual good quill. He got some chocolate, just because he could.
They went from store to store. The vast majority of their shopping was done through the windows and inside they would touch the unbreakable, but hardly bought a thing. Hermione decided she wanted to go to a quaint little book shop and only Neville accompanied her. The other two girls went on to The Three Broomsticks where they promised to hold seats for them. Neville did not tag along because he had a book he wanted to buy, but he felt like taking a gander about the books pertaining to Herbology that were not the school's textbook. That way, he could add some more things to his journal—things to really impress the Mystery Reader.
He ended up grabbing two sizeable volumes one called The Herb Grimoire and the other being called Beauchene's Compendium Concerning the Properties of Rare Fungi. Hermione had eyed his choice in recreational readings and given him a bright smile. The Old Witch at the counter had also given him a bright toothy grin and made comment on the books. "Not often we get a student after these books."
"I like Herbology… A lot in fact."
"I can see. I knew it was either that, or your mum wanted a copy."
Neville's face went red across the cheeks and the tips of his ears. "How much is it?"
She raised her finger to hold him there for a moment longer so she could go to the back. When she returned she had a small velvet bag. "Maybe you would like to plant this."
Neville's brow rose as he watched her open the top of the drawstring bag. She dumped an ample and nearly perfectly round bulb. "What is it?" he asked resignedly. He'd never seen a bulb quite like the one she held in her small hand. He was not keen on the idea of planting anything that might grow up to be dangerous.
Sadly, the old witch said, "I'm not quite certain. I still would like you to have it. If you could plant it and let me know how it turns out then I would very much appreciate it."
Neville checked over his shoulder to find Hermione's frizzy head poking out from over a short shelf. She wasn't close enough to have heard the conversation and he was leery. "I'm not so sure myself."
"Well, with these nifty little books you have then perhaps you can do some research. I'm no herbalist myself. I never cared for gardens. You can take the bulb and plant it or give it away. It's all the same to me, Dear." She dumped the bulb back into the velvet bag and Neville swallowed his reservations. He stuck his hand out for her to place the bag in and it felt warm on his palm. The woman only gave him another sweet smile, before telling him his total for the books he'd purchased.
He went to the front to wait on Hermione, feeling like the bulb was going to burn a hold through the velvet bag and in turn burn a hole in his trouser pocket.
Hermione left empty handed, but she said it was for the best. She would have bought too many things if she'd set her mind to it. She asked after his books and Neville was happy to show them off. They were thick and a little dusty, but they appeared rather old. All in all it had not been fruitless for him. He even had a bulb to plant if he put his mind to it. He was hoping that it would be mentioned in one of his books—though most likely not the one on Fungi. He failed to mention that strange exchange with the Old Witch to his friend and they entered the Three Broomsticks as if it had not happened and the only reminder being buried inside his pocket and out of view.
Φ
On the eve of Monday, Neville had managed to pry himself away from his new books and went to gather the journal that had led him to furthering his study in the field. All because he wanted to impress someone who didn't know who he was and might never find out. Wasn't that just the whole thrill of it though?
Up against the window, just as the previous week had foretold was his book. He picked it up from the sill and flipped eagerly towards the part where the pages were spaced unevenly from the constant opening and closing—while the back pages of the book were still nearly stuck together. Neville saw the picture of the Divinations tower towards the end of his ramblings and notes only to see that a window had been drawn and a tiny figure was scribbled inside of it with a line pointing and the word "ME" written beside it. Neville chuckled.
He took the journal back up to the Dormitory that was like a habit in the making.
Seamus and Dean were on the couch this time. Lavender was seated between Dean's legs—so Neville supposed whatever was going on there had been patched up, but he just gave a waning smile to them in passing.
Well, I can't go to the Dungeons and hold your hand or anything like that, but I get what you mean. Snape can be a slave driver. Though, he's smart, which is admirable, I suppose. Either way, I'm a Sixth year. You're going to have fun come the O.W.L.s. I know a girl that passed out because she'd not been sleeping—just studying until she blew. You seem to have a reign on those plants of yours so I wouldn't much about Herbology if I were you. So, don't bother studying for that.
I drew a picture for you. It's the Whomping Willow. I decided to save myself the embarrassment of letting you guess what it was. Know anything unique about it?
Neville laughed a little more and turned the page to see the twisted tree with giant clubs for limbs. It was pretty good, and since he already knew what it was, he wasn't so sure if he wouldn't have been able to tell without the words stating it.
He heard Harry ask, "What's so funny in there, Neville?"
Neville pressed his knuckles to his lips and tried to stifle any more chuckles. "Nothing. I was reading."
"What could you be reading that's funny?" Ron asked.
Neville stared back down at his Journal and didn't answer.
Instead, he pulled up his bag and began to set to work in writing his reply. The words came quite easy. He wasn't worried about what he said, because, well, the Mystery Reader wouldn't know any better.
He began to draw a little students running away from the tree in terror.
I know you can't solve my problems in that class as easily as writing out how to get over anxiety for the teacher. Though, I wish it were that simple. I hope I don't get so bad over my O.W.L.s but on the off chance I do, there should be an herb in this journal that might revive me.
I really liked your picture by the way. It looks a lot like the Whomping Willow. I've added a little something to it. And, I liked what you added to my tower.
He put his quill and ink away and flipped between some of the older pages. From there he would have another whole week to pick out interesting plants and facts to add to the list and drawings. However, the more he looked at the Mystery Reader's responses the more he wished that he could have a journal of nothing but those. Nice words and small banter that didn't get him all flustered. He closed the journals leather cover and slipped it into his bag so that he might have it for some more recreational writings in class or while he ate. He typically spent his Tuesday evenings in the Green Houses. He would have to wait till then for a little more inspiration. He'd take one of his new books to show Prof. Sprout.
