Author's Note: My oldest son is 10 1/2. He spends most mornings turning me into a mad woman. Then, out of the blue, he'll do something that makes my heart so full of love. Last week, it was the end of a tough morning, I was hustling them into their winter coats when he tells me that he's concerned one of his classmates doesn't have a coat. Thinking about it now, I still get teary eyed at his compassion. As it turns out, the other boy did have a coat, but I used that moment for inspiration. So, this is for my oldest. Thank you for everything.


Albus: Goodwill To Man

December 1, 2017

From his greenhouse, Neville watched as Hagrid dragged a huge tree across the snowy grounds to the castle. The first of December had come, and Hogwarts was alive with the excitement of the season. The children's chatter was a bit more hurried as the spoke of Christmas puddings and gifts under the tree. Even the crusty old professors were feeling the spirit. The other day, Filius had cajoled Neville into bringing holly up to the teacher's lounge, and it was only November 29. Even Minerva was feeling the good cheer, laying a sickle on December 3 as the day Professor and Madam Pucey were caught under the mistletoe this year. Having a married couple on staff amused the Headmistress to no end.

Neville had to confess that he was as excited as the students for the end of term. He was looking forward to returning to the pub with Hannah and the girls. The Leaky Caldron would be decked out in ribbons and greenery, the smell of cinnamon mixed with warm Butterbeer permeating the air. When the patrons were in their cups, they'd start singing Christmas carols. Neville's old gran thought it a crude way to celebrate the season, but to Neville it felt homey.

Not least because that was where his girls were, Hannah and their daughters. Two of them were at Hogwarts now. Lizzie, a Gryffindor, was a third year, her sister Nora was a first year, and doing quite well in Hufflepuff. That left just Lainey still at home with Hannah.

It was while he was woolgathering rather than grading essays as he ought to be, that Neville's godson wandered in. Albus was a first year, too. He had the messy black hair and green eyes that marked him as his father's son, but Neville couldn't remember Harry looking as tall or as healthy as Al did.

"Wotcher, Uncle Neville."

"So, this is a personal visit, and not professional?" Neville asked with a little chuckle, but Al just gave him a perplexed look, and Neville cleared his throat awkwardly. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, you know Calvin Flint?"

Quite aside from the fact that Neville knew every student at Hogwarts, Calvin Flint was hard to forget. Besides having an unfortunate resemblance to a troll (both physically and mentally), the boy was also the biggest bully in the first year class. Try as he might, Neville never could find it in himself to feel much compassion for the likes of Mr. Flint. As a professor, Neville did his level best to act professionally with all students, but even after so many years of teaching, he still hated a bully.

"I do." Neville said. "Has he been giving you a hard time?"

Albus shook his head. "Not since last time. It's just…I noticed he doesn't have any mittens."

Neville regarded his godson with renewed interest.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we have Herbology with the Slytherins, right? I've noticed when Flint walks to the greenhouses, he never wears mittens, or a cloak."

"And…you're worried for him?" Neville asked, as he pictured the boy who tripped Parminder Thomas on her way to potions just this past Tuesday.

"He's always shivering when he gets to class," Al replied simply.

Neville's first thought was that he'd simply ask Mr. Flint if he needed a cloak, but immediately dismissed the idea. The Flints were a proud, pureblood family, that would only embarrass the boy and that was the last thing that Neville wanted. He would take the matter to Professor Pucey, as Flint's Head of House.

"I'll see what I can do about it," Neville assured his godson. "You'd best get up to the castle or you'll miss dinner."

Albus smiled, waving good-bye as he headed out the door.

oOo

James Potter and Freddie Weasley exploded the pudding that night at dinner, and Neville had to confess that he put the matter of Calvin Flint out of his mind until Friday, when he had the first years in class. Neville nodded to Albus as he walked in, then noticed a scuffle at the back of the greenhouse.

"Mr. Flint, is there a problem?"

The boy colored, releasing Toby Cogsworth from his grip. "No, sir," he grunted.

It was on the tip of Neville's tongue to dock points from Slytherin, but for the first time, he noticed Calvin Flint's hands. They were raw and cracked from exposure. The boy had no woolen cloak that Neville could see, but appeared to be wearing several jumpers.

"Take your seats, boys," Neville said, returning to the top of the class.

oOo

After double Herbology with the seventh years, Neville wandered up to Defense Against the Dark Arts corridor to speak with Adrian Pucey. He could usually be found in his office until at least four o'clock. Tapping lightly on the door, Neville waited until he was bade entry (it was not unheard of for Alicia to visit her husband at the end of the day).

"Come in."

Inside, Neville found the other professor sitting behind his desk with no sign of his wife anywhere. The rhythmic thumping of a tale against hardwoods drew Neville's attention to Adrian's spaniel who was sprawled next to the fireplace. There was something about Adrian that always reminded Neville of his gran. Perhaps it was the immaculate manners or the low tolerance for foolishness, but then Gran had a low tolerance for dogs as well.

"I needed to speak to you about a student," Neville said, taking a seat before the desk. Its front panel popped open, banging Neville painfully in the knee, and out crawled a chestnut haired toddler.

"Sorry," Adrian muttered. He came around the other side of the desk and scooped up his son. "His current babysitter had a last minute study group, and Alicia had to sort out a snowball fight. Say 'hello', Daniel."

"'Lo," the tot said and waved.

Neville rubbed his knee. "No problem, I was due for a whack in the knee as it was. Can't go three days without one, I'm afraid. So, this snowball fight…how many Weasleys and Potters were involved?"

Neville was surprised he hadn't hear of this already. As Head of Gryffindor, he seemed to be on call for every disaster that befell the castle these days. If it wasn't James and Freddie causing mischief, then it was Dominique, Molly, and Roxanne. And he thought he had his hands full with his own three daughters, that was nothing compared to the antics those three got up to.

"It was Ravenclaws this time, as I understand it," Adrian replied. He settled into the chair beside Neville's, the little boy on his lap. "You are in the clear this go 'round."

"I doubt that lasts the day."

"You wanted to see me about a student?"

"Oh, yes! Calvin Flint…"

Adrian grimaced. "What's Mr. Flint done this time?"

"No! It's not like that," Neville assured his colleague. "At least not this time. One of my students brought it to my attention that Mr. Flint doesn't seem to have the proper dress for winter. No cloak, no gloves…"

Neville trailed off when he saw the pained look on Adrian's face.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention," he said stiffly.

"The classes are getting larger," Neville said. "It's getting harder to keep track of the needs of every student in our charge."

"And yet that's our job, isn't it?" Adrian stood with his toddler clutched to him, and went around his desk to jot down a note. "I must confess that I haven't given Mr. Flint the kind of attention he deserves. I hated Marcus when we were at school, and here's his son looking and acting just the same."

"I can relate. I've a hard time looking at Scorpius Malfoy and not seeing Draco," Neville admitted. "At least Scorpious seems to be a nice kid."

"What money the Flint's had was lost in the war, and I know that Marcus has never really amounted to much. Let me—let me talk to Alicia, she's much better at this sort of thing than I am."

Neville stood to leave, but found Adrian gripping his arm.

"I thank you, Neville," he said sincerely. "I don't like to see any of my students suffering, even bullies like Flint."

oOo

The middle of the next week, Neville was sitting at the teacher's table eating his breakfast and reading a letter from Hannah, when Adrian Pucey nudged him in the ribs. The other man motioned towards the Slytherin table where the students were beginning to gather books and knapsacks to head out for that day's classes. At the end nearest the teacher's table, Neville spotted Calvin Flint swinging a woolen cloak around his shoulders.

"How did you—" Neville started, but trailed off when Adrian shook his head.

"It was all Alicia. Marcus was being a stubborn arse, as usual, he didn't want to accept charity from my 'Gryffindor princess'." Adrian rolled his eyes. "So, after I convinced Alicia not to cosh Flint over the head, she worked it all out. Calvin gets what he needs and in exchange he helps out in the Hospital Wing three times a week."

Neville frowned. "There wasn't another way? It doesn't seem right that an eleven-year-old should have to work for a warm cloak."

"Flint's an idiot, he's down and out, but he still has his pride," Adrian replied, and shook his head. "Besides, something else came to light. Calvin's nearly illiterate."

Looking over at the Slytherin table again, everything fell into place. First year essays were often rubbish, but Calvin Flint's were abominable. The writing was illegible, and what words that could be made out were misspelled. It was only his decent practical work that kept the boy from flunking Herbology all together. Neville remembered the stress he'd felt in his first years at school, when he couldn't properly perform a spell or mix a potion, and his heart ached for the Flint boy.

"So, Alicia worked it out that instead of cleaning bed pans, Mr. Flint will be receiving tutoring three days a week with Molly Weasley," Adrian finished. "Good work, Neville, I'd say you performed your Christmas miracle for this year."

Neville reddened, looking for a familiar head of messy black hair in the crowd. "No, it wasn't my doing."

Folding Hannah's letter and stuffing it into his breast pocket, Neville scurried off the dais and into the crowd. He was just wishing that Albus Potter was taller, when he saw the boy walking with his cousin, Rose. Snagging him by the elbow, Neville felt a bit out of breath as he looked down into those wide green eyes.

"I wanted to talk to you before classes, Al," Neville said. "Go on, Miss Weasley."

They stepped into an alcove to escape the crush, Albus looking up at Neville patiently.

"I wanted you to know," Neville began, "that because of you, Mr. Flint will be getting the help that he needs."

Albus beamed up at him, and Neville smiled back. He couldn't help it, Albus looked exactly like his father, but he had his mother's smile.

"I'm really proud of you," Neville said. "It's easy to help those who are kind or friendly or even pathetic, but it takes a special person to offer good will towards their enemy."

"Flint's not my enemy, Uncle Neville," Albus scoffed.

"No, you're right. That's a bit dramatic, isn't it? But Mr. Flint certainly hasn't been nice to you, but you still held concern for him. I-I just couldn't be prouder."

Neville trailed off lamely. There really weren't words to describe what Neville was feeling for the young man before him. It was a joy that made his heart fill to bursting. Albus had done what even Neville struggled to do, and that was to show kindness where none was deserved.

"I've got to go to class," Albus said.

"Right. See you this afternoon."

oOo

Later that night, Neville set aside his stack of essays and pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment. Dipping his quill in the inkpot, he grinned as he began writing:

Dear Ginny,

I was just writing to tell you what an incredible young man your son is…


AN2: By the way, did I mention it's my birthday. You can send me a gift in the form of a review...