Chapter 68: Bittersweet
Blackmoor, Essex, England
May 31, 1991
Neville sighed as he looked up from the flower bed. He carefully swiped his hand across his brow to wipe away the sweat that had beaded there. It was a bright and beautiful morning, the first really sunny day that they had seen in days and Neville was relieved to be able to get outside into the bright and beautiful sunshine. He had spent the last few days cooped up inside of Blackmoor feeling guilty. He felt guilty that he didn't mourn the death of Lord and Lady Black as greatly as others in the family.
Lord Black was an obscure figure to Neville. The man had rarely visited his Great-Grandmother Callidora. When he did, he rarely spent more than a few moments with Neville. He really knew Lord Black more by reputation than on a personal level. For this, he felt bad because it meant the man's death didn't affect him the way it had some of his other cousins.
The death of Cassiopeia had hit Neville harder. She was a favored cousin of his Great-Grandmother's and she had often visited, bringing Leonis along with her for Neville to play with. He had liked Cassiopeia for all that she could be intimidating. He would miss her. He wondered where Leonis would live now? With Cassiopeia dead and Leonis still underage, he couldn't go and live alone at Ivy Hall. He wondered what the adults would decide?
He glanced up to the veranda above and smiled slightly when he noticed Percy Weasley seated at a table, book in hand. The older boy was one of his favorite Weasley cousins. Neville liked all of the Weasley's, of course, but Percy was his secret favorite. There was something soft and soothing about Percy's magical aura that just drew Neville in. Percy was a good listener and he liked scholastic pursuits over more robust physical ones such as Quidditch. Neville could talk about his plants with Percy and the older boy would never give any indication of impatience or boredom. He would listen attentively and better still, Percy always had knowledge of his own to share. Percy had helped in his mother's garden and he often found himself drawn to the garden on sunny days either to read or to toil a bit in the earth.
It was nice to talk to an older cousin who liked similar pursuits. Neville would rather work in the garden or read in the garden then play Quidditch. He was a fair enough flier now, but he had spent years being terrified of heights. His great fear of heights had begun when his Great-Uncle Algie decided it was a great idea to drop him from a high story window just to see if his magic would manifest and save him. His fear had been so terrible that his Grandma Callidora had finally decided that she would hire a tutor to teach him how to fly. He could do it now if he had to and he was confident in his ability to sit on the broom and to handle it, but he couldn't imagine himself racing at top speeds doing twists and twirls while having bludgers coming at him.
No, thank you.
He really didn't understand why Harry and Draco enjoyed Quidditch so much. He almost laughed as he saw Harry and Draco coming outside with brooms in hand. It was as if his thoughts had summoned the pair of them. He took a moment to watch and consider them. Lord Potter and the Heir Malfoy were friends, true genuine friends as well as being kinsmen. Neville knew that there had been a lot of speculation about Harry in the Wizarding Press. Hermione had read an article from Witch Weekly aloud to them just yesterday that was full of such outlandish speculations with no grounding in truth. The writer had compared Harry to James Potter the late Lord Potter. Neville thought it really unfair to do that since poor Harry had never gotten the chance to know his dad. The writer had talked about James Potter's dislike of Lucius Malfoy and then had gone on to assure readers that Harry would never befriend the Malfoy Heir, Draco.
Well, that had caused a lot of laughter in the room since Harry counted Draco as one of his best friends. Neville was proud that he too was counted as one of Harry's best friends. Then the article had proven even more how little was known about the life of the Boy Who Lived, because it referred to Harry's Aunt, Petunia, as Petunia Evans and not as Petunia Black. It claimed that she was married to a muggle man named Vernon Dursley. Hermione had been furious with the quality of the article.
"It's little wonder that Luna's mum is thinking of restructuring her husband's old paper," she had said referring to 'The Quibbler', "into something that could give competition to things like the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly," Hermione had fumed.
"The Daily Prophet is more of a Ministry propaganda machine than a real news platform," Aleksei Spinks, the Heir Spinks, had drawled even as he turned a page in the book he was reading. It had been something to do with Advanced Potion making.
"Why is that?" Hermione had asked.
This caused the Heir Spinks to glanced up from his book to meet her inquisitive and somewhat challenging gaze. "Because the Ministry holds the highest shares in the paper and always have," he said plainly. "It's not exactly hidden, but most people have forgotten about it and don't think to go look for the information," he had said with a shrug and then resumed his reading. Aleksei was often like that, imparting random knowledge on others. Neville didn't know the Heir Spinks very well, but he had interacted with him often enough to know he should just take it in stride.
"Huh?" Hermione had gotten that thoughtful look in her eyes that Neville had come to recognize as her 'Plotting for the future' look. It would scare him if he weren't sure that she'd never use it against him, well to do anything to hurt him anyway. She might do it for his own good though. Hermione wasn't above that, not after the training and care she was receiving from Mrs. Tonks.
He shook himself from his thoughts just in time to see Harry and Draco gently take off from the veranda. They slowly made their way toward Blackmoor's Quidditch Pitch where they began to do lazy laps in the sky. Harry once told him that he loved flying, that it felt like he was meant to fly. Neville had never asked Draco if he felt the same way but he regardless he could tell that Draco felt comfortable in the air, just as comfortable as Harry.
Slowly he stood up and began to dust himself off. It wouldn't do to track mud and dirt inside with him. Even though he was sure the House-Elves wouldn't mind cleaning up after him. He'd rather not make too much of a mess for them to have to tend to. Slowly he made his way up to the veranda and settled himself against the railing nearest to where Percy sat reading. He watched Harry and Draco in the distance and smiled sadly.
He liked being at Blackmoor.
His Great-Gran had warned him that it was the seat of power for the Black family in Britain. That the wards were ancient and that for all of its outward opulence, Blackmoor was built to be a magical fortress to protect their bloodline against those meaning them harm. Blackmoor was a sanctuary first and foremost. She had told him that he might feel overwhelmed by the wards, that it might feel uncomfortable for him to stay in Blackmoor for too long. Neville had felt apprehensive about arriving in the beautiful home. Instead, he had felt warmth tingle along his nerves. He had felt his blood sing if such a thing was possible. It had felt as though he were welcomed by magic itself. Grandma Callidora hadn't talked to him about it, but she had watched him and his cousins, Michael and Stephen, closely and seemed relieved that each boy had seemed to have the same reaction.
Was it the wards recognizing them and accepting them as members of House Black that must be protected? Grandma Callidora had said the wards were ancient, just how ancient were they? Because Neville was beginning to suspect that the wards were somewhat sentient.
He turned slowly toward Percy and almost startled in surprise when he found the older boy watching him closely. Neville flushed slightly, suddenly feeling slightly awkward. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean to disturb you, Percy."
Percy waved an elegant hand, the gesture somehow regal to Neville's thinking. "Think nothing of it," he said then pursed his lips. "You were projecting a little bit," he admitted after a moment of silent contemplation. "Would you like to talk about what is on your mind?"
Neville slowly ventured to the table and took a seat across from Percy. "I was thinking of the wards. Grandma Callidora warned Michael, Stephen, and me that they might feel uncomfortable even if they accepted us. I was a little scared, truth be told," he admitted because Percy always made him feel like he could tell him anything. "I was expecting rejection of some kind, or a vague acceptance but I felt such warmth and welcome instead."
Percy's smile was soft and indulgent, fond even as he listened to Neville. "So, you are wondering about the magic of the wards?"
"I guess so, yeah," Neville admitted. "It's almost like, but no that's not possible," he shook his head at his foolish thoughts.
"Like what?" Percy inquired gently.
Neville frowned as he looked at the table for a few moments. It was a silly idea, wasn't it? Still, silly or not he had started this conversation. Percy was always so nice to him, he wouldn't laugh at him for his silly ideas. Neville knew that with certainty. "Like the wards are sentient."
He felt his whole face flush with embarrassment. As soon as the words were out of his mouth he wished he could reach out and grab them back. It didn't help that Percy's eyes had widened and then narrowed in contemplation. Was he thinking about a nice way to inform Neville just how silly he was?
"You might be on to something," Percy said at last, much to Neville's surprise.
"What?" Neville asked with a gasp of surprise.
Percy smiled gently. "Magic is organic. It's not as regimented as the spellcraft we create to actually wield it. The Wards on Blackmoor are likely older than the house itself since they have added to the place on and off for generations and subtracted at times as well. But the grounds are where the ward truly is," Percy informed him and then stood up. "Come with me," he gestured for Neville to follow him.
He was swift to obey, scrambling out of his chair and following Percy down the stairs and back into the garden. Percy knelt in the dirt, uncaring if he was getting his clothes dirty. It made Neville smile. Percy came across as so meticulous and neat, one could easily believe he was prissy, but then he'd do things like this and kneel down in the dirt that Neville had been digging in just ten minutes before, uncaring about his appearance. Percy was always regal as a prince.
Neville knelt in the garden facing Percy. He was surprised a moment later when Percy grabbed his hand in a gentle, yet firm grip and he placed his hand palm down to the rich soil beneath.
"Tell me what you feel," Percy commanded.
He frowned as he looked at Percy, confusion whirling in his mind. "I feel the earth, the soil," he answered.
"No," Percy said and there was still that edge of gentle command in his tone. "That is not all that you feel. "Try again."
Neville nodded and he closed his eyes for a moment, the better to remove the image of his older cousin from his view and to center himself. "I feel the soil, it's a little nutrient starved and in need of better care and rejuvenation. It wouldn't take much work to rejuvenate the soil," he whispered.
"Yes, that's it," Percy said softly. "What else?"
He shook his head at that. There wasn't anything else was there? He frowned as he focused on the soil and what was there and what wasn't there. Oh! He was focusing too much on this patch of soil. He was being too specific in this game of 'search for what Percy wants you to find without telling you what it is you are searching for'. Okay, so he needed to get better with naming things.
He concentrated on easing back from his focus on the garden and let himself drift, gaining impressions from the grounds further from the house and cataloging things. He gasped and his eyes flew open when he realized he could feel the grounds of Blackmoor's Quidditch Pitch. "I could feel the Pitch!" he exclaimed in astonishment to Percy just a moment later.
This brought a chuckle from his older cousin. "Perhaps we should stop here," he said thoughtfully. "I might be asking for too much from you just yet."
"No!" Neville exclaimed because despite not knowing what Percy was trying to show him, he was enjoying learning. "Please, one more try at it and then we can stop for the day," he bargained.
Percy seemed to think about that for a moment and then he nodded. "Only if you'll give me your word that you'll not try doing what I just taught you without others near you and aware that you are trying to expand on your gifts."
Neville nodded. "I give you my word that I, Neville Longbottom, shall not attempt to practice the expansion of these gifts without another present who I have informed of what I am attempting to do," he said.
His older cousin smiled in satisfaction at that. "Very well," he said. "Center yourself and try again, try to get your senses back to the earth of the Quidditch Pitch and then see if you can move beyond it."
"Okay," Neville agreed, happy to be learning this new aspect to his magical gifts. He wondered if Lavender knew how to do this? He would have to talk to Michael and Stephen about this. It took him a few extra moments to curb his excitement and to regain his calm and focus. Slowly he was able to catalog what he was feeling of the earth and he found himself once more focusing on the Quidditch pitch. "There are two people standing on the Pitch," he said softly.
A few moments later Percy's voice responded. "Harry and Draco landed on the grass."
"Are they laying down?" Neville asked, still with his eyes closed, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Percy's voice was full of warmth and pride when he responded, "Yes, they are."
"This is really wicked!" Neville couldn't stop himself from exclaiming even as his focus centered for a few moments on Harry and Draco. He wondered if one day he could get good enough at this to differentiate between people.
"Keep your focus, remember your goal," Percy gently reminded him.
"Right, right," Neville said, and he slowly edged his focus away from his cousins who were taking a break from flying. Knowing those two, they'd be back up in the air in no time. He felt it a few moments after he moved into the treeline, the warmth blazed from him, just as it had the day he had arrived at Blackmoor. He gasped and his eyes shot open to stare at Percy. "Oh!" he exclaimed because there was just no way to describe how absolutely awesome it was that he had felt the edge of the wards.
Percy smiled, his gray eyes alight with pride. "Congratulations!" he praised. "You were able to reach out with your affinity to the earth and find the edge of the farthest wards. If you ever decide not to go into Herbology for a future career then you should consider Wardsmithy."
Neville felt like he had been hit with a stunning spell for a few moments, frozen in place, staring in surprise at Percy Weasley. His cousin slowly arose and with a brief flick of his hand, the dirt that had been clinging to his trousers disappeared. It was witnessing that bit of wandless magic that had Neville suddenly scrambling up to his feet. Again, Percy waved his hand and Neville felt a slight tingle as the magic at Percy's wordless, and wandless, command left his trousers.
"Thank you," Neville said and didn't that just feel so inaccurate. "Thank you for teaching me and for your compliment that I might be able to become a skilled Wardsmith," he wanted to preen at Percy's great compliment there. You had to be a particularly skilled sort of wizard or witch to be able to become a Wardsmith. "And thank you for cleaning me up too," he added.
Percy just continued to smile at him. "You are welcome," he said simply as if he hadn't done anything really all that special. Maybe to Percy he hadn't. Perhaps Percy was always this kind to those around him? Neville didn't get to spend enough time with him to know. He only knows that he really enjoyed spending time with Percy, and he liked the way that Percy instructed him. Kind, patient, and there was this feeling that he was safe with Percy. His cousin wouldn't allow harm to come to him. He had been so certain of that fact that he hadn't felt any of his usual hang-ups when he attempted to obey Percy's instructions. What a difference that had made!
He followed the older boy back up to the veranda. "Have you been able to do wandless and wordless spells long?" he couldn't help but ask because that bit of wandless and wordless magic had seriously impressed him. It was expected of a seventh year, but Percy had just completed his fourth year at Hogwarts.
Percy seemed to think about the question before answering. That was something he had always liked about Percy. He figured it was also one of those little quirks he had that had almost seen him sorted into Ravenclaw House. His sorting some years ago had been a bit strange. Neville had heard tidbits about it while listening to his Grandma Callidora, Auntie Cedrella, and cousin Cassiopeia not long after Percy had been sorted.
"I can do simple spells wandless and voiceless," Percy said at last. "Some spells I still need my wand for and others that I don't really need my wand for I still need to say the incantation aloud," he admitted. "I think it is because of what I am if that makes sense."
"Because you are magically sensitive?" Neville asked.
Percy nodded. "More to the point, I think it is about how long I went without anyone really knowing that. Leonis is far luckier than I am because cousin Cassie figured it out when he was still an infant and she was able to properly protect him, teaching him, and prepare him for the rest of society," he said and then he sighed. "I am sure you have heard something about my sorting?"
Neville nodded. "Not much and not directly," he admitted. "I heard your grandma and great-gran talking about it with cousin Cassie," he said gently. Clearly, it was not a happy memory for Percy.
"I passed out in the Great Hall," Percy admitted. "Much like Blackmoor, Hogwarts Castle is an old fortress. It was made for war and defense as much as to shelter children and teach them about their magic," he said. "Residual magic is consistently absorbed by the walls and the very foundations of the school. Then there are the networks of many complicated wards within the castle and upon the school grounds. I could feel all of it and I had no shield from it. Then I could feel the other children, the adults, the older students, and my fellow hopeful first year's students. It was too much, too fast. I couldn't assimilate, and I couldn't adapt," Percy said, and his arms came around himself in a show of insecurity and a need for comfort. It made Neville want to hug him. "Everything hurt and then suddenly it didn't," he murmured. "I opened my eyes and Oliver Wood had his arms around me and he was talking to me, his voice gentle and reassuring with just the faintest edge of panic in it," Percy smiled then, the haunted look slowly left his gray eyes and instead they seemed to shine silver, sparkling with pleasure at the memory of Oliver Wood holding him and worrying for him. "I know you don't see much of that side of your family, and with good reason, but I do hope you'll give Ollie a chance when you two get to interact more often. He's truly a good person, a fierce soul with a golden heart," he said and then smirked a little. "Even if he is Quidditch mad."
The last caused Neville to chuckle. "If you say he's good then that's enough for me to want to get to know him," he promised. "I've met him a few times over the years but with our age gap he was never considered a truly acceptable playmate for me," he admitted.
Percy nodded. "I understand that," he said. "You have other cousins your own age to play with."
"Exactly," he said. Still, Neville now felt a little guilt that he had not asked his Great-Gran if they could invite Oliver over to visit. The few times Oliver had visited he had been very nice to him and it had really only been his bitter memories of Uncle Algie and his Grandma Augusta, Oliver's uncle and aunt respectively, that had kept Neville from trying to reach out more to Oliver in friendship. Now he felt that perhaps he had lost a golden opportunity. Oliver might have proved a good mentor for him. Then again, if he was Quidditch mad perhaps he would be a better mentor for Harry or Draco instead.
Speaking of the devils… Harry and Draco slowly landed on the veranda and swiftly came over to join them. "Hello Harry, Draco, did you enjoy your flight?"
Harry was nodding enthusiastically. "Yeah, you should come with us next time," he urged Neville.
"You know how I am on a broom," Neville hedged.
"Just for a leisurely flight," Draco placated expertly. He really was good at easing people's feelings and getting them to do what he or others wanted. Neville admired him the talent and was a bit envious of it, truth be told. Draco never lied to get his way and that fascinated Neville.
"Okay," he found himself agreeing because though he couldn't see himself ever flying the dangerous way that Harry and Draco seemed to enjoy, he knew that he needed to get better at flying. Practice makes perfect, or so Hermione liked to tell him.
"Would you like to join us sometime, Percy?" Draco asked.
"Perhaps," Percy said with an enigmatic smile. "Now come on, we should go get cleaned up before it's time for dinner. The last thing we want is to worry the adults more than they already are."
Neville couldn't agree more. The last thing he wanted to do was give his Great-Grandmother a real reason to have to fret over him. It felt like all of the women within Blackmoor's halls were just itching for an excuse to fret and coddle them. He understood why, of course, he did. These deaths… no…murders…had shattered the family sense of safety. These were women who had been raised with the Old Ways. Their ultimate Imperative was always going to be the safety of the future generation.
"Think we'll hear at last when the funeral rites will be performed?" Draco voiced softly. There was a hint of pain there, barely concealed and he didn't really think that Draco was trying to conceal his hurt. His cousin was healing, slowly from the deaths of his Black relatives and of his Grandfather. It would take more time though.
"I hope so," Neville said softly. "They deserve to be honored," he said.
"Oh, little cousins," Percy said gently chiding as he walked behind Harry, Draco, and Neville. "All of you are an honor to them and a reminder that their time in this world was well spent," he promised them.
Neville looked to Draco and then to Harry and saw that each boy wore a small smile at Percy's words of praise. He thought that Percy was right. His deceased relatives had worked hard to ensure the safety and well-being of the future generation. Neville hoped that he would continue to honor their memory. If they could watch him from the afterlife, he hoped that he made them very proud.
I do apologize for the long wait in updates. I do hope that February shall be an awesome month of updates from me, but I make no promises (better to not disappoint anyone that way). Next Chapter: Interrogation. In which Sirius spends time at the British Ministry of Magic hoping to learn the truth about who killed his family and why.