Story Title/Link:
School and Theme: Ilvermorny - Investigation
Mandatory Prompt: Create a method of transportation
Additional Prompt(s): [Character] Neville Longbottom, [Quote] "The difference between a weed and a flower is judgement", [Setting] A Farm.
Year: 4
Word count: 3398
Dying For A Cuppa
Harry moved his wrist in a continuous stirring motion. His face screwed up in fierce concentration, determined not to pay attention to the swirling of the world around him. He knew the smallest mistake could cause him to become trapped somewhere along the fabric of time. There was no margin for error.
The small sliver Time-Teaspoon glinted in his hand as he moved through the hours, searching for a sign that he had once again caught up with the present. He kept his eye on the shifting sun in the sky, waiting for it to hit the point where it met the horizon, before abruptly holding the Time-Teaspoon still.
Time continued to undulate around him, slowing more and more, until suddenly the impact of his feet hitting solid ground sent shockwaves throughout his body. The landscape rippled in and out of focus until, finally, the scene settled into a shimmering stillness, much like a clear puddle on a mild day.
Harry clutched his free hand to his middle and grimaced as his stomach made a valiant attempt to turn itself inside out. No matter how many times he used the Time-Teaspoon, he felt he would never get used to the feeling. It was almost as if it combined the dizzying aspects of Floo travel with the disorientation and nausea of Apparating. He made a mental note to pass on his complaints to Hermione when he returned the device. She'd invented it, after all. If anyone could iron out the blips, it was her.
He found his mind drifting back a few hours — did one count each repeated hour or only actual real hours that passed? — to when he had stumbled out of the Floo to see Hermione sitting at the kitchen table looking troubled. In front of her was a small bundle wrapped in cloth. He'd taken a seat next to her and looked at the parcel, waiting on Hermione to break the silence. He didn't have to wait long.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
"I don't have a choice. If I don't figure out what happened to him, he'll die. The Healers say he doesn't have long, and I can't waste time!"
"How do you know it was from this afternoon? The poison could have been given any time in the last twelve hours."
"Because I've eaten and drank the same things as Draco since dinner last night, except for when he went to Neville's to pick up his potions ingredients. It has to be something he ate or drank there, and if we don't find it then…" He took a deep breath. "And maybe Neville too, if we don't figure out what it was."
"Perhaps there's another way —"
"We smashed all the Time-Turners, remember? Do you have another idea?"
"Just be careful, Harry." She worried her lip for a second before pushing the wrapped bundle towards him. "Remember, you can't be seen. And if you're caught —"
"I know," smiled Harry grimly. "I didn't get it from you." After a heartbeat, Harry found himself reaching out for his friend's hand as he locked eyes with her. "Could you stay with him? I don't want him to be alone." He watched his friend nod her agreement before he continued in a watery whisper. "If something happens to him… I don't have a life without him. I need to do this."
"I know. I'll stay with him, don't worry. Be safe."
"Thanks, Hermione." He gave her hand one last squeeze before pushing away from the table and heading back towards the Floo. Draco's life depended on him, after all.
A harsh wind gusted from over the fields, rousing Harry roughly from his memories, carrying with it the distant sound of cows and the musky smell of manure. He could feel his mouth filling with bile and forced himself to swallow and breathe deeply through his nose. How Neville could stand this smell day after day was beyond him.
He tugged a long strip of cloth from his pocket and began to wrap up the Time-Teaspoon carefully before stowing the bundle away. He could only imagine the many ways Hermione would kill him if he lost it, and that wasn't counting what Ron would do if he found out what Harry was up to!
Finally, his stomach felt like it was ready to behave, and he forced himself to walk up the gravel path that led to the stout-looking cottage at the top of the hill.
The light dimmed dramatically as the sun disappeared from the sky. He paused momentarily in the thickening darkness just as a row of torches flooding the area with welcome light. Harry couldn't help but smile — trust Neville to add his own spin on a street lamp! As he neared the top of the lane, he could see the front door was open, a rush of light pouring from within, silhouetting a portly male figure as it watched him approach.
"Harry!" smiled Neville as he clapped Harry's back in greeting, beckoning him inside with quick gestures. "What're you doing here? I thought you would have been at the hospital with Draco."
"Hermione's with him," admitted Harry, shrugging off his travelling cloak and hanging it on an empty hook.
He closed the front door behind him, following Neville into the sitting room, settling himself into one of the timeworn armchairs. He watched as Neville waved his wand; two glasses of Firewhisky came soaring out of the kitchen and onto the coffee table in front of them.
Harry reached for his glass and took a long, grateful sip, welcoming the burn as it slid down his throat. Neville raised an eyebrow at Harry, waiting for an explanation for the lateness of the visit.
"I was going mad sitting there with Draco, watching him fading away in front of me. I just couldn't do it.
"You're not the most passive person, I'll give you that," agreed Neville, "but you're also not someone to walk away when someone needs you. Shouldn't you head back to the hospital?"
"I wasn't doing any good there," said Harry, shaking his head in emphasis. "The Aurors aren't any closer to figuring out who poisoned him, and the Healers are struggling to figure out which poison was used. You know Ron won't tell me anything!"
"Come on, you know Ron hates having to keep this stuff from you. He's the investigating Auror, and you're the next of kin. He's just doing his job. Kingsley would have his balls if he broke protocol on this."
"I know," groaned Harry, the frustration from being excluded from the case details washing through him once again. "But they're not getting anywhere. So, you know, I decided to look into it myself."
"Look into what, Harry? What do you think you could do that Ron isn't?"
"Let's just say, I know someone who helped me get hold of something so I could — sort of — repeat time."
At his words, Neville's eyebrows rose even higher on his forehead. "You've been repeating time? What for, Harry?" Neville's voice was high and a bit sharp, as if in annoyance.
"What do you mean, 'What for'?" Harry couldn't understand why Neville was acting so surprised and almost upset. "To figure out what happened. The Healers are certain it's something he ate or drank in the last twelve hours, and the only time we were apart was when he came to visit you. I just needed to repeat his visit over and over again and look for clues."
"And what did you find, Harry?" asked Neville in a careful voice, his face now blank of any emotion, surprise or otherwise.
"At first, nothing. I watched the two of you have tea like twenty times before I seemed to get anywhere."
"How could you have watched us that many times? We would have noticed you! Even if you had the Invisibility Cloak on, it doesn't mask sounds."
"A combination of the Cloak and Disillusionment charms. I just kept to the corner over there," muttered Harry, waving his arm at the far right near the floo. "Don't worry, neither of you said or did anything that would have embarrassed you."
"Thank Merlin for that, considering I should be able to do and say what I want in the privacy of my own home." Harry found himself gaping for a moment at Neville's admonition, as his friend continued. "So, did you find anything out that makes your blatant disregard for my privacy worthwhile?"
"I'm sorry, Nev, honestly. I never thought about your privacy at all. I was just so focused on helping Draco." Harry smiled sheepishly at Neville, who jerked a nod at Harry to indicate that they could leave it for the moment. Sighing in slight relief, Harry hurried to continue.
"I think I might have figured it out, Nev. I think it's the milk. It's the only thing Draco had that you didn't. Do you still have some left? Can I have it so I can get it tested? I think maybe someone spiked the milk at your supplier or something… Why are you looking at me like that?"
Neville's face was no longer blank. Instead, it was shining with a mania Harry had only ever seen during the War, and Harry couldn't help but feel like he was missing something vital.
"I should have known. You're Harry Potter, after all, the one who makes the impossible possible. Of course, you would figure it out!" Neville closed his eyes and shook his head, an almost fond smile tugging at his mouth.
"Nev, the milk? Do you still have it or not?"
"The milk… yes, the milk…"
"Nev? Neville!" Harry leaned closer to his old friend, frowning. "Are you okay? Y-you didn't have any of the milk, did you?"
Neville's eyes snapped open at Harry's words as the smile on his face stretched into a grin. His eyes, usually crinkled in friendliness, were now narrow pools glinting with cold amusement.
"Of course I didn't have any milk. Oh, I know you all take me for a bumbling idiot most of the time, but I'm hardly going to drink poison, now am I? Give me some credit."
Harry pushed himself out of the armchair and stood awkwardly in front of his friend, struggling with the idea that all was not as it seemed. Something was very, very wrong. "Nev… I… Are you sure you're okay, mate?"
"Actually, no, Harry. I'm not," responded Neville regretfully. He heaved himself out of his chair. "However, that's neither here nor there. What I need to know is whether you've told anyone what you've found?"
"What do you mean?"
"About the milk? Did you tell Ron? Hermione? The Muggle postman? The guy three doors down from you?"
"I… No. I came right to you, didn't I? I'm not supposed to be on this case. Ron would strangle me for messing with his investigation anyway; you know how he is. So, can I have a sample of the milk, then?"
"Oh Harry," sighed Neville, as he pulled his wand from his pocket and conjured thick ropes which wound themselves around Harry, causing him to fall back into the armchair behind him.
"Do yourself a favour and forget about the bloody milk, would you? I have to say, I'm very grateful to you for not telling anyone about this. It would have made things much more difficult if I had to start going around sorting all of that mess. There's only so many Obliviates one can get away with before the Aurors will pick up on a pattern, after all."
As Neville spoke, Harry tried to slide his hand into his pocket, carefully trying to angle his wrist under the ropes without alerting Neville to his plan. If he could just get to his wand, then he could get out of these ropes and—
"Uh-uh-ah, I don't think so, Harry," scolded Neville. Harry's wand wooshed out his pocket and into Neville's outstretched hand. "We can't have you escaping and turning me in, now can we?"
Horrified, Harry watched as Neville walked over to the sideboard and placed Harry's wand next to a large potted plant. He paused to gaze lovingly at the snowy white blooms. It was quite tall, as far as indoor plants went, standing two feet high above its pot. The dark green stems looked delicate, almost too fragile to hold the large ridged leaves that sprouted out from it sporadically. The white blossoms at the top were snow-like, as if they would vanish if you held them for too long.
"Do you know what this is, Harry?" Neville asked gently, as he stroked the plant's dark green leaves reverently, before lifting his eyes to meet Harry's. "It's White Snakeroot. Have you ever heard of it?"
Harry shook his head in negation as he struggled impotently against his ropes, wondering how he was going to get out of this.
"Not many wizards have since it's a Muggle weed." Neville nodded, alternating his attention between the plant and Harry. "It's not very common here in Britain, but it grows abundantly on my farm. Much to the upset of my poor cows, one might say."
Mid-stroke down one of the shiny leaves, Neville fixed Harry with a hard stare and demanded, "do you like it?"
"It's nice enough, for a weed," Harry found himself answering. He continued to work his hand into his pocket, keeping his eyes on Neville's wand.
Neville stared at Harry, his lips pressed thinly together as if Harry's answer had irked him somehow. "The difference between a weed and a flower is judgement. Just as a rose by any other name would still be as sweet."
Suddenly, Neville plucked a blossom from the plant and turned to face him, giving Harry his full attention once more. He had no idea why Neville was fawning over the plant — since when did Neville ever need an excuse to go plant crazy? — but as long as it kept the attention of Harry, he might just have a chance.
"You might think it's nothing special, but you don't know how powerful this unassuming plant can be. Do you know it's highly toxic to both humans and animals? For example, if a cow eats it, the toxins will filter into the milk supply and contaminate it. Back in the 1800's they called it Milk Sickness. If you can believe it, this little plant was responsible for killing thousands of people."
Harry tried to swallow around the bile as it began to rise once again in his throat, his chest tightening painfully as he tried to breathe through the clues clicking into place inside his head.
"Come on, Harry, you really can't figure anything out without Hermione holding your hand, can you?" His hand was finally inside his pocket.
"You don't have a milk supplier, do you?" asked Harry blankly.
Neville shook his head in answer, still looking slightly amused.
"You let your cows eat that plant? Even though it makes the milk they produce toxic?"
Neville tilted his head to the side thoughtfully, as if waiting for a toddler to finish grasping a complicated concept.
"You gave that milk to Draco?" His mouth was sand dry, and his voice rasped as he tried to speak. "You knew it was poisoned… but you gave it to him anyway! Why?"
"Why?" repeated Neville, his voice becoming sharp once more. "Why, you ask? I've been to St. Mungo's myself in the last few weeks, did you know that?"
"What —" Harry began to slowly tug the silver device from its wrappings, trying to make his movements look like he was merely struggling.
"My parents, Harry. How often do you guys ask about them? Come with me to visit them? Show any interest at all? Never! They might as well have been killed by your boyfriend's bitch of an aunt for all the thought my so-called friends ever gave them!"
"Nev, mate, I didn't think —"
"No, you didn't. None of you did. But it was fine. I got on with it, visiting my parents alone. Waiting for the day they would recognise me again. Waiting for my mum to remember who I was." Neville's eyes began to shine as he vented at the injustice of the situation. Harry couldn't help but notice how Neville's wand hand shook as he spoke, how hard his eyes looked despite the tears.
"Then two weeks ago I got an owl from St. Mungo's. Mum and Dad had died. Peacefully, apparently. The Healer had written that it was simply their time and that it would have been a comfort to them both that they went together." The sneer in his voice let Harry know just what Neville thought of the Healer's words of comfort. "You know, I never gave up hope that they would get better. I always wanted to have just one more lucid moment with them."
Harry watched the tears slide furiously down Neville's plump cheeks, and Harry slid his hand closer to his pocket where the Time-Teaspoon was.
"I went to the hospital and collected them. I sorted out their burial. I went to the pub where I knew you guys would be to tell you all, and what happened when I got there? You announce to us all that you're in a relationship with DracobloodyMalfoy, and you're moving in together!"
"Nev—"
His hand was now wrapped around the cool silver handle of the device. Now he only needed to get his wrist out of the ropes.
"His family tortured my Mum and Dad! They took my parents away from me and then he just gets to skip off into the sunset happy as a fucking clam! I don't think so."
"You can't blame Draco —"
"Like hell, I can't!" demanded Neville hotly. "It was his family. Like he was bloody innocent during the war, but of course, you had to go and testify for him. Well, fuck you all."
Harry had finally managed to pull his hand free from the ropes. He clutched tightly to the Time-Teaspoon and waited for his moment. He needed to be careful, a wrong stir, and who knows what would happen.
"You know, for all Draco's posturing about Pureblood elitist shite, he was quite common in the end. Milk in his tea, Harry? Really? Everyone knows that's reserved for the working classes and the Muggleborns. Every other Pureblood we know takes their tea with lemon, as well they should. For all his poncing about, his filthy lowbrow habits were the undoing of him."
Neville swiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve and raised his wand level with Harry's chest grimly.
"And so, the only thing left to do is take care of you. Oh, don't worry, Harry. I wouldn't kill a friend. I just forgot how single-minded you can be when faced with a damsel in distress. No matter, though. A quick Obliviate will put everything right in the end."
Just as Neville took a breath to cast the spell, Harry began to stir the air as much as he could while still tied up. Starting small at first and winding out larger and larger.
He never heard Neville say the incantation; the sound was lost as the room rippled and swirled away into nothingness. He needed to go back before he'd found out what his friend had been up to. He had to get to Hermione.
Harry and Hermione watched as Draco slept, the antidote flushing all remnants of the poison from his body.
"He looks like he has more colour," smiled Hermione, "I can't believe you managed it."
"Oh come on, did you ever doubt me?" joked Harry, determined not to think about how scared he'd been. "What do you think will happen to Neville?"
"I don't think it'll be Azkaban." Hermione frowned, sadness tugging the corners of her mouth. "Honestly, I think he'll end up in the Janus Thickey ward." She put her hand on his arm, distracting him from the guilt swirling inside him at how much he'd let Neville down. "You did well, Harry."
He gave her a watery smile and held out the cloth-wrapped bundle, which she quickly stowed inside her pocket. "Thanks, Hermione. For everything."
"Any Time." She smiled.