Neville knew he was not badly hurt, but he was badly embarrassed, and if he were certain about anything, it was that he had no wish to go back out to the grounds and make a fool of himself again, at least not before giving everyone a chance to forget his last foul-up. Looking out the window of the hospital wing as the overqualified Madam Pomfrey told him he was fine, especially after the hospital wing, he wondered how he was going to report this incident to his grandmother, if at all. He knew this was within her expectations. In fact, she had stated it outright.
"Neville Longbottom, the first time you sit a broom you are going to hurt yourself. Don't even think about Quidditch."
He had not been thinking about Quidditch; in his experience there was quite possibly a causal relationship between thinking about something and doing it, and in him there was no desire to play the sport at all. If any of his friends were interested in playing, he would be more than happy to watch. Putting himself in danger was not something he enjoyed, and he could not quite wrap his head around why some wizards were so keen on it.
Neville heard a noise coming from the end of the room, an unexpected one, to be sure, but he allowed Madam Pomfrey to answer it, maintaining in vain the illusion of injury.
"Yes, here to see Longbottom." The voice on the other side of the partially opened door said.
"Longbottom?" the healing witch asked.
"Yes, there's just the one now, isn't there?" Madam Pomfrey stared for a moment before answering.
"There's but one in this room."
"Right. Only just remembered he has a grandmother. Bit of a faux pas, but no matter. I would like to speak to him momentarily, as I believe I have a class soon."
"Do you, Mr. Malfoy? By aaaaalllll means then!" she shouted as she left the room, frustrated. A blonde boy with an air about him entered, carrying his Remembrall.
"Does this belong to you? That was my conjecture anyway."
"Oh, you found it! I hadn't known it missing!" Neville exclaimed, rising to retrieve it, forgetting he was supposed to be feigning injury. He had been hurt a little, but Madam Hooch, whose life he had no right to judge, was most likely only sparing his embarrassment by telling everyone he had a sprain. "Remarkably good guess, Mr. Malfoy, I never even left my mark on it."
"Ah, well, it was nothing, really." the boy responded, raising a hand to his brow. "You should have heard some of the other first years on the subject. So I pick it up, and it appears to be lost and they pounce on me like I'd stolen it the moment I lift off on that substandard broom. I only meant to have a bit of fun as I return it, but they would simply not hear of it. The braver ones among them threatened to report the whole event- or at least their version of it. Pardon me if I speak ill of any of your acquaintances." For the life of him, Neville had no idea who had been there. He had mostly been concerned with not making a fool out of himself, which he had managed to do all the same.
"It's not a bother. You seem a swell fellow, Malfoy." he said, looking over his Remembrall, the smoke inside of which was turning red. "Looks like I'm forgetting something. Can't remember what it is of course."
"Doesn't seem like a terribly useful trinket, really. Not to disparage, of course. Anyway, more to the point, I have been made aware that Hufflepuffs like you are quite forthcoming with each other." Neville looked down at the yellow trim on his robes.
"I suppose so. Why... does the matter concern you?" he asked, adjusting his speech to mirror that of Malfoy.
"It is a trifling matter, only that certain rumors may or may not arise in the Hufflepuff Commons, and as an inquisitive fellow, I might learn an interesting thing or two from hearing about them. Of course, I would be all too happy to share news from Slytherin House." Neville took a moment, thinking. He had never desired to learn what went on in Slytherin, but this Malfoy seemed an interesting character, and it occurred to him that he might learn just as much. If he forgot something, the Remembrall would at least notify him.
"I wouldn't mind at all, Mr. Malfoy."
"Excellent." the blonde boy decided, leaving for class. The Remembrall reddened.
"Right. I have class as well." Neville hurried off for Herbology, which as he understood it was in the greenhouses, far from his current position. Sprinting, he heard an older student's voice as he rounded a corner.
"Late, Longbottom?"
"Y-yes, yes, I'm afraid I'm late for Herbology, or near." he stammered out politely. He noticed the witch's robes had a yellow trim and his magical trinket turned red as he looked at it. Not again...
"No worries, friend. Portus." she said, tapping her wand to a book. It began to grow blue and she tossed it to him. Immediately upon trying to grab it Neville felt as though he were being physically thrown from somewhere in his midsection, landing with a thud directly outside the greenhouse. Confused, he looked around in all directions as an equally shocked Professor Sprout came out to find him.
"Longbottom? Nice... of you to join us."
"Uh, yes, I seem to have... taken a bit of a tumble." he started, rising and righting himself. "No worries though. I can be almost certain I won't land on the ground again, at least not today. The odds of that would be ridiculous, at least I think." he said, probably revealing too much. The instructor simply smiled and welcomed him in.
"Fear nothing, Longbottom." she said simply as they began. "In this class, you will learn about the care and uses of magical plants." The students looked back and forth at one another as well as some of the more dangerous looking plants on the wall. "More importantly, you will learn how many things are not quite as they seem." With her wand, she levitated a huge plant with thorny vines and gaping red maws over to the table in the center of the room. She then conjured a mouse, which scurried past the plant unharmed. "This plant looks dangerous, but it only uses its mouth and thorns to defend itself from herbivores." The rodent continued along the table until a green vine erupted from a small plant at the end of the table, grabbing the mouse and retracting like a frog's tongue. "And that plant masquerades as a much safer species. Consider the venomous snakes with their patterns, and the mimicry by nonvenomous snakes."
By Neville's estimation there were no Slytherins in the room, and the comparison fell flat entirely.
"Professor, what are we going to do first?" A student asked, curious. Neville believed the boy's name was Macmillan. He might have met him before coming to Hogwarts, though he could not be certain. He checked his Remembrall.
"Good question. It is imperative we establish some rules about the care to exercise around plants. Firstly, many plants in the greenhouses are highly toxic. In some cases, you can be poisoned by merely touching them. I would advise you to do touch only the ones I tell you. Some of them are only dangerous if ingested, though I do not believe I need to tell you not to eat the plants." Some of the students laughed nervously. "There are plants that emit a poisonous gas, and you will not be dealing with those until such a time as you learn to use the Bubble-head charm." The laughter stopped almost immediately. "Of course, in our coursework for first years, much of what you will be doing is rather mundane."
There was a groan from someone, but a cursory look around could not determine who it was.
"Please continue, Professor Sprout." Neville requested.
"Yes. For all the damage the plants can do to you, you must be conscious of the damage you can do to them. Many plants are highly sensitive to heat and light, others can be drowned in the water a cactus needs. I have plants not native to Britain, and these require special conditions to grow. For this reason and the former, the most important quality you must possess to succeed in Herbology is care. You are dealing with very different species about which you have little knowledge, and you must constantly take care not to hurt them, or allow them to hurt you. If there is an issue, I remind you that I have the privilege to remove you from my class either for your safety or for the safety of the plants."
For their practical lesson they started with something sufficiently mundane for the Muggle-born students, ordinary houseplants. In the Longbottom manner, the house elf would have taken care of a matter like this; it was not in any sense necessary for a wizard, let alone one who usually bungled things, to tend to plants. I've got no manner of experience in this at all. Surely no one would think less of me if I asked for help here and there? Neville decided that he would inquire of Professor Sprout as frequently as necessary, no matter how silly it made him look.
At the end of the class he decided it had all gone rather well, considering the circumstances. He had not needed any books for the first day and decided that it was just as well, since it seemed like little enough of a bookish class, which was just as well considering he was a forgetful lad. Checking his Remembrall, it appeared he had forgotten something.
"Books, books, what could that have been?" he wondered audibly as he headed to Charms, where he had every expectation he would arrive on time, without any need for a portkey. "Aha!" he exclaimed, drawing momentary glances from the passing Gryffindors. From his schoolbag he drew the book the older student had given him as he arrived in class, knowing better than to try to do it while walking. The title read Enchanting Earth and Magical Mulch- Your Guide to Sorcery of the Soil!
Despite the exciting title, Neville was quick to put the book away to better pay attention to the lesson. He had been holding out hope that it would be easier than Transfiguration, which he had earlier in the day. Professor McGonagall seemed exactly like his grandmother, fair, but incredibly strict. He wondered how she was the Head of Gryffindor with all her safety rules. It seemed like a complete contradiction, and it puzzled him even further that he seemed to be the only one to realize it. Of course, the safety rules made sense and he was glad for them, but as he had understood it, Gryffindors were supposed to follow the rules when it was convenient for them and ignore them at every opportunity. Do they like her? Is it just that they're used to it?
Neville knew about being used to things and not noticing them. His grandmother once warned him not to leave his toad in a pot of boiling water, because as the water temperature rises, a normal animal would try to get out, but a toad would never notice the difference. Each degree change in heat would be only a little worse than the last, and by the time it realized it was dying, it would be dead.
"Is that why I have a toad, Gran?" he had asked.
"Yes, I already told you that. I suppose I should buy you a Remembrall. You'd probably lose it, though."
"Probably. I haven't an idea what I'll do without you."
"You'll probably fall off a broom the first time you sit one."
Later that day Neville left a pot of water on the hot plate for curry rice, only when he returned he saw Trevor leaping out of the pot. He remembered deciding there was no reason to spoil his grandmother's fun with the comparison, though.
Transfiguration that day had involved trying to turn a match into a needle, which he had not been able to accomplish, though it appeared the piece of wood was at least changing color. Another student claimed he had successfully pulled it off, but Professor McGonagall set it on fire, showing him that it was still flammable. Neville sympathized with his disappointment as he seemed to lift a feather, but then discovered it was but a breeze.
After class was out he took a minute to start on his homework, which he had not seen since he had looked over it at lunch. He had twelve inches to write regarding safety with Transfiguration, and a few more with Herbology, though Professor Sprout seemed more inclined to an 'at your own risk' philosophy. This both excited and worried him, though it was all the more evident that he would simply have to ask for help as often as he needed it. It occurred to him that if he learned the safety rules once, his Remembrall would notify him if he were forgetting one, though that carried the risk of making the trinket entirely useless, as it might simply be red at all times.
Heading to Potions class after having gone over some of the more obvious safety rules, he decided he was glad that the students were meant to learn them, especially for his own sake. He would likely forget some of them, but he hoped to have fewer embarrassments like the one in Flying. Reaching a table with an adjacent cauldron, he waited about a minute for Professor Snape to arrive, stock still with anticipation.
"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class." The wizard instructed as he entered, rapidly making his way to the front of the room. Neville thought better of telling him he had no intention to come up with silly incantations, as his previous attempts had all been unsuccessful. He had heard much about this man, and he would do well to be silent unless called. His head whipped around as another student raised her hand, wondering who would dare. It was Susan Bones, but fortunately that mattered little as Professor Snape ignored her entirely.
Class began with fifteen inches or near enough about the essentials of potion making, with the instructor magically writing on the board with his back turned. A student with her hand raised- Bones again, to Neville's dismay, waited over ten minutes before asking her question without being called. No! No! Why would you ask again? Why, when you so narrowly escaped before?
"Professor, what are the safety requirements for potions?" Snape turned sharply and stared. At least she asked a fair question.
"Do your best not to stick any part of your body in the cauldron. If you do, I shall be most... amused. Five points from Hufflepuff for speaking out of turn." Neville doubted he would need his Remembrall to recognize Susan's look of shock if he ever saw it again. Though the instructor was no longer looking at her, she looked as though she was ready to tell him her aunt was a prominent figure at the Ministry and this kind of disregard for student safety would not go without consequence. Another girl was quick to silence her before she could make it worse for herself. Might have been Hannah Abbot.
Professor Snape continued with the lesson as if there had never been an interruption, going on at length about the different ingredients that would be available.
Neville quietly took careful notes, only looking up occasionally at the unsettled Hufflepuffs. If they had thought Professor Sprout had an 'at your own risk' philosophy, the Potions master replaced the presumption of risk with its known reality, a philosophy of 'follow the directions and you won't die'. Neville doubted anyone except he would have trouble not injuring himself with the silver knife, but he knew potions could be dangerous and always carried the risk of boiling over.
He decided he would simply have to be extra careful and remember to check his Remembrall.
As class drew to a close he wondered if the new book he had acquired rather unintentionally had anything to say about potion ingredients or how to grow them, but as it turned out, at least as far as he could tell from the table of contents, this was not the case. The book was well and truly about soil and the right conditions for magical gardening. He decided it was worth a read if for no other reason than to see how they managed to stretch the topic out that far. Thumbing through the first few pages as he left class, it was clear that not only had they managed to fill the book, they had done so without pictures.
"Merlin's beard..." Neville muttered to himself, avoiding a student in the hall. "I've got to show this to Ron- I reckon there's a lot we can learn here." Smiling broadly for the first time all day, he took care to avoid notice, replacing his new possession in his schoolbag. However the author or authors of the book had managed to stretch out text, there had to be a school rule against it. He checked his Remembrall to see if he was forgetting a school rule, but remembered he had likely not heard all of them. He considered asking Hermione, but then the jig would be well and truly up; whether or not it was against any rules it would be within the hour.
He did not have the slightest idea how he would thank the Hufflepuff witch, if he recognized her again.