Chapter 4: Longbottom Pt 1
We had been walking in the rainforest for a day and a half before we came to a small village on the outskirts of the thicket. Here the people were simple, there was no electricity or running water, but there was one shaman who lived in a hut. We had asked around, finding difficulty in our language barrier, for the location of this shaman's hut. When we did find a woman who could help answer our questions, she also mentioned another traveler like us, light skinned and curious who came through about ten suns ago, also asking the whereabouts of the shaman. It began to grow promising, we were on Longbottom's trail, and I wasn't about to lose it now.
"I don't care. I need a bath. We are going to stop by the gorge and you'll be my look out."
"Listen woman, Longbottom is several days ahead of us, and he has a wand..."
"I have a wand, and I'm going to use it on you if there's another word about leaving before I've had a proper washing."
I threw my hands up in the air, "Are all muggles like this or just women in general?"
"Hey, are all guys such jerks or just Malfoys?"
I could have torn this blasted woman into shreds, then faked my own death, then escaped to Northern America. I'd never get used to their stupid way of talking or their common mannerisms, but if I could send an owl to a third uncle of mine to send me money from Gringotts than I coul...
"What are you scheming in your green little head?"
"What?"
"That's what you're doing isn't it? Every time you have that look in your eyes, you're plotting something."
"Are we going to the gorge or what?"
Wendalin gave me a look as if she was trying to decide what to do. I suppose if I had a scheming face, this would be hers. Her eyebrows creased just along the edges, and her irises narrowed intently at the object of her annoyance. She had only been done lecturing me about not stopping by Madam Pomfrey's for some magical ointments for our journey. I had just finished telling her that if she was a real witch we wouldn't be having this problem. She had turned my hair green in response.
The gorge was about 7 kilometers away. I climbed the last rock and faced the raised bowl of water that seemed to be a pore of the earth. Inside was the bluest water I had ever seen. In a sense it looked magical.
"These canals run deep below the ground for miles and miles, the villagers around these parts believe that it is the beating heart of the Earth God. It is drinking water, cooking water, and bathing water for people from miles around. They never contaminate it, instead you're suppose to draw water out," Wendalin pulled out her wand and twirled a line of water from the gorge. She suspended it in the air like a bowl, the crisp blue of the liquid was enchanting. "There's still so much we don't know," she began. "I've once read a report on this water, and the last time person from the magic community who studied it was Ivial Perckinal, but that was about two hundred years ago. And he hadn't even bothered to talk to the local shaman, who had been using ingredients from this region for thousands of years. It could be filled with all kinds of magical properties..."
"You sound like this girl I know," I said while dipping a green leaf into the gorge. I pulled from it and drank a long deep gulp. It was indeed refreshing, but magical? There was more magic in chocolate covered frogs than in this thing. "...she also never shut up."
"What is it with you and learning? Or is it all magic-born who are so completely against knowing more magic than they should? I mean, when I first learned about magic, there wasn't a book you could throw at me that I wouldn't read. But the lot of you, who've grown up with it all along, you seem so indifferent to it."
I folded the leaf and put it into my pocket, "Does a monkey wonder why a muggle doesn't just eat, and eat all the time, after finding a way to grow food instead of needing to hunt or scavenge? It's the same answer, there's more to life than one thing. Even if that thing is everything, like magic."
"What's your thing that more interesting than magic?"
"Important, not interesting."
She gave me a long stare, but I wasn't about to be rifled by some mudblood, "Are you going to just keep talking or take a bath?" I began walking away, "And don't worry about me looking or anything."
"Oh I won't," she replied. "Incarcerous!"
I fell like a sack of potatoes onto the ground, if it weren't for the small mobility in my feet I'd have rolled right off the edge," What are you...!"
"Now stay put, and if you're behaved, then I might change your hair color back."
If I could ball my fists near my head I would, the infuriating things this woman was putting me through. When I got my wand back, she'd be the first to feel my wrath. Oh, I swear it.
I rolled onto my back and a patch of green leaf shielded the sun from my eyes. I could see the tufts of green from my head, and feel the bits of grainy earth beneath my fingers. The humidity was still light this time of day, and it was pleasant here. I could hear the sounds of the tropical rainforest beyond the edge, live with sounds of creatures in the wild. In my newfound captivity, I couldn't help but wonder what Longbottom was doing here. I never knew much about the little git, except that he was always behind in classes, useless, and everything but the adventure type. I'd heard stories about his battle at the ministry, and at Hogwarts, but unless I saw it with my own eyes - he'd always be that idiot with the frog. What could be in this forest that made him trek into it, if no one else had for over two hundred years? I tilted my head a bit and looked into the jungle, "What secrets are you hiding?"
When Wendalin had finished bathing, she untied me and changed my hair back to normal, "It looked better the other way," she replied as if serious.
I chose to ignore her, "Come on, we still have a few hours of walking just to reach the shaman's hut."
It was tough travel through the gnarled roots of the rainforest, a few villagers passed by here and there, we saw a hut once that we thought was the place. But a screaming woman who threw pots and pans at us told us that it was not the shaman's hut.
When we did finally reach an opening with a single trail, the hut stood on stilts to keep itself away from the slithering, slimey, and legged creatures that owned the rainforest. It had a thatched roof and just the lightest trail of yellow smoke. I could smell a potion brewing in the air, "This is the place."
Wendalin nodded, even she knew when magic was abound. She walked several feet in front of me, placing an arm for me to stay back. I rolled my eyes but she didn't see. "Hello? Is anyone there? My name is Wendalin Holmes, I am on official Ministry business!" she shouted at the closed door.
The yellow smoke above the hut ceased, I heard a shuffling inside and once again gripped emptily at my wand hand. The door swung open and I was actually thankful that Wendalin was standing in front of me. A man stepped out of the hut, he was about 180 centimeters tall, well built, and a rugged beard had begun setting on his face, "Longbottom?" I questioned.
The instant he heard my voice his expression became grim, he took two steps and made it off the raised platform and before I knew it his hands were around my collar and my feet were having trouble touching the ground.
"Malfoy," he breathed down my neck.
"Close your mouth, it reeks," I muttered.
"You've got some nerve coming here," Neville said.
"Trust me, this isn't exactly the type of place I'd want to be seen at."
"Privileged little Malfoy, afraid to break a pinky nail?"
"Found a pair lately, have you? Now you've forgotten what it was like before you found it? Remember who you're talking to," I growled angrily.
"I know exactly who I'm talking to, a traitor. Ain't that right? Betrayed the wizarding world, betrayed your dark lord, it's like you just can't pick a side can you yeh stinking coward."
"Boys!" Wendalin shouted. "Mr. Longbottom, please set him down."
"Who're you?" Neville asked, rounding on Wendalin. "I thought I heard you say you were from the Ministry? What're you doing with this coward?"
"He's under my protection, to complete his tasks as per punishment of his wrongdoings during the Second Wizarding War," she said all in one breath.
Neville threw his head back and laughed, it was a bit maniacal. I suppose the humidity and seclusion had finally gone to his head.
"That's rich, truly rich. I'm sorry," he gasped between breaths. "Who in their right mind thought this thing was able to change? They should have just thrown him into Azkaban and be done with it."
Neville gave me another look, before settling against the trunk of a tree, "All right. I'll bite. What are you doing here Malfoy?"
I pulled out a rolled parchment from my pocket and tossed it at him, "McGonagall wants you to fill in a position at Hogwarts." I looked to Wendalin, "Come on, we're done here." I pulled out the circular portkey but nothing happened. "Why isn't this thing working..."
"I'm not going," Neville said.
"That's not my problem," I replied. I turned the portkey around several times, "Why isn't it..."
"On the contrary Mr. Malfoy, it is your problem," Wendalin piped up. "According to the Ministry and Professor McGonagall, your task is to not just bring the requests to these individuals, but also to convince them to take their posts at Hogwarts for the upcoming year."
Neville smiled something vicious, "And what happens if he fails?"
"If he fails to bring all five of the required seat..."
"Immediate imprisonment to Azkaban. I know, I know." I looked at Neville, "What's it going to take Longbottom? How many galleons?"
"I don't need your money you greasy blonde monkey."
I curled my fist, "Say that again you muggle-lover."
"Want a beating do you?" Neville said as he stood up straight. "I don't even need a wand to cream your little face in, and out here? No one will find your body."
Wendalin shot a small bubble between us, it popped open in small sparks. Neither of us blinked as we stared each other down, but neither did we advance any further.
"Mr. Longbottom," Wendalin began.
"You can call me Neville," he replied coolly, his eyes never leaving mine, his hands still balled into a fist.
"Neville," she started again, "Professor Sprout had personally recommended you for the position as the Herbology teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She's looking to take some time off from teaching, not sure how long her leave of absence will be, but you can imagine how it would be good for her after everything that has happened."
Neville glanced at her, "There are still things that I need to do here."
"What exactly are you doing out here Longbottom?" I asked.
"That's none of your business," he retorted.
"It is if it'll get you to Hogwarts in September," I said.
Neville looked around, I could sense a bit of paranoia in his voice as he said, "I'm looking for a plant."
Wendalin and I both waited for him to continue. But when he didn't, I couldn't help but wonder if she knew how I felt now on the train. If she did, I couldn't tell.
"If we helped you find this plant would you be willing to teach at Hogwarts?" she asked.
"Teach at Hogwarts? If I found this plant there would be no other place I'd rather take it to than to Hogwarts," Neville said. "There are so many resources that I could use there to study it, if only...if only," he trailed off.
"What exactly is this plant," I asked.
Neville pulled out a quill and some parchment he had tucked away somewhere, "It looks like this." He showed us a drawing of a large tree.
"Isn't that a tree?" Wendalin asked.
"No, no, trees have bark. This gigantic thing is a plant. It's just grown so thick and large that it looks like a tree," Neville explained. "According to the shaman here, it has been a secret in this forest for thousands of years. His ancestors used to know the location of this tree, but not anymore. Lost in the growth of the forest he said, for hundreds of years no man has ever laid eyes on it."
"What does this tree do? And why do you want to find it, Longbottom?" I said, trying to not act too interested.
"It's said that it can heal the mind. Imagine the possibilities, all the people it could help. Maybe I'll find 12 uses of it like dragon's blood, I'm sure grams would be even more thrilled that the Longbottom name would be inscribed into the annals of history. Even if it was in herbology," he finished sheepishly.
I looked him in the eye and said, "Such as people at St. Mungo's," but didn't say another word.
He pretended not to notice my comment. Instead he waved an arm and motioned for us to go into the hut, "Come on Wendalin, you've got to meet this guy. His magic is so different for ours, I've never seen anything like it."
Neville reached a hand down to help Wendalin up the hut, "I've never met anyone magical outside of the ones in Europe and such. And this kind of magic, it's just wow. I mean, why hadn't anyone recorded this stuff yet? They should be teaching some of the stuff I've learned from him at Hogwarts. It would bring an entirely new element of thinking and spells to so many different practices."
"What do you mean?" she asked curiously.
"Okay, if our magic is technical. Books, spells, incantations, everything in strict and direct order, than this is more free-flowing. It's as if this type of magic draws from nature, the stronger the connection to the area the stronger the magic. Hey! Nammput, I've got a friend here who I'd like you to meet."
A young child greeted us just beyond the hut of the door. He wore a single loin cloth around his waist, white paint seemed to decorate his body, and in his hand he held a large antler or what looked to be a stalk of it.
"Isn't that just wicked?" Neville asked Wendalin. "That things his wand, and man if Mr. Ollivander could see it, I bet you he'd learn a thing or two." He motioned for us to sit, "It's not polite to stand in his presence.
I wanted to ask who the squirt was, but instead I sat on a placemat on the floor. The three of us kneeled in a sitting position before him. Neville was holding onto Wendalin's hand, I looked at her face, and she didn't seem to mind.
The young child waved his antlers over the fire, it grew a dark yellow, "Namuka, namuka, ehhh." His voice ebbed in the hollow. He sounded distant yet he was not but a meter in front of me. "Chuga Chuga Chuga." He bellowed, his voice growing louder. The fire danced before us as if taking shape. Nammput reached a hand into the growing yellow fire and it curled around his fingers as if he was controlling it, but as I looked closer I realized that it was in fact rubbing against his hand. It looked to me as if the fire had come alive and was reacting to his touch. Nammput danced three steps around the flame, and it grew tall - almost touching the dry roof above our heads. I could hear the small crackle of fire burning, but unlike the baseless noise and surprise, this fire seemed to be speaking.
Nammput looked at Neville and nodded slowly, "Carcola says your gatherings are worthy child of plant. She will protect you like all sacred roots in this forest. Touch her, and she will give you her gift."
Neville looked even in the face, the young boy was gone from his eyes, I didn't even recognize him anymore. He reached a hand into the flame without fear. In he went, it seemed as if the fire was swallowing him, drawing him out from his seating position. The flames licked over his skin like water, drawing him deeper into the fire, kissing his arms and rolling over his face - into his hair, until he had passed through the fire and to Nammput on the other side completely.
"Whoa," he breathed.
Nammput pulled a log from a separate bowl in the corner, it's embers burned deep and red. I could sense that there was no magic here, not even magically lit by some house elf. Nammput motioned for Neville to touch it. He grasped the scorching red end in his palm, Wendalin gasped, and I rummaged a bit in my seat as I imagined his hand burning underneath his grasp, but instead the embers died beneath his hand.
Longbottom had become fireproof.