A/N: This was written for Round 7 of the Quidditch League Fanfiction Challenge.

Harpies-Chaser #3

Prompts: Write about a charm performed incorrectly.

Additional Prompts: (character) Neville, (dialogue) It seems something is missing, and (song ) "Young and Unafraid" by Moth and the Flame

Just Tune Everyone Out

"Yes, Ms. Fowley?"

Neville had tried to ignore the hand that had jumped into the air after he finished his demonstration, but Astra Fowley persisted. Most of his students were too afraid to ask him questions, and those who were brave enough, rarely asked about Herbology. All they wanted to hear were stories about the Hogwarts Resistance and the Battle of Hogwarts. But Astra Fowley was neither impressed nor intimidated by Neville.

"Sir, what's the point of juicing Bloodwort if it is so poisonous? Professor Sprout always had us harvest plants with healing properties." She had yet to put on her dragon skin gloves or her impenetrable goggles. Instead, she was smirking at him.

"That's a good question," Neville said, more to buy himself time than to answer. He had defied Voldemort, duelled countless dark wizards, and organized an underground resistance movement, but now, he could barely confront a teenager. He wondered if it was because Astra looked at him like Malfoy and Snape had all those years ago. Like he was nothing but an incompetent fool.

"Sir?"

"Right—well. Herbology, like most branches of Magic, isn't just focused on healing, is it? It can be about defense too. That's why we study Bloodwort and Devil's Snare and Venomous Tentacula. I'm sure Professor Sprout covered those topics with you." He moved on quickly from her table, before she could respond, pretending to catch someone holding their knife in the wrong direction. He successfully managed to avoid her table for the rest of class, but it wasn't until the Fifth Year Ravenclaws were out of the Greenhouse that Neville let himself relax. They were halfway through the first term—his first term of teaching—and he was surviving. Some days, he felt like an imposter as he tried to plan seven different lessons, grade homework, and find time to collaborate with the Potions Professor and the Matron of the Hospital Wing to make sure they had the necessary specialty ingredients. He was still glad that he got the teaching job: it was his dream job. But most days he had to fight off the old, gray doubts that he could actually do it well.

When he was an Auror, he hadn't had to confront his fears of incompetence. The job was difficult, but it had been what Neville had been preparing for ever since he joined the DA, and maybe even before that, when he first heard the stories of his father. Becoming an Auror felt like a natural step for him to take after the Battle of Hogwarts. But, after ten years of it, Neville had felt exhausted. Sure, the job was meaningful, his coworkers had become his greatest friends, his Gran was overjoyed—but he wasn't happy. When he got a letter from Professor Sprout, telling him that she was going to retire, he almost hadn't realized what he was doing till he had sent his owl off to Headmaster McGonagall with his CV.

He wasn't sure if he was technically any less exhausted with his new job. If anything, it took more from him. And the constant fear of failure looming over him didn't make him any happier. But he loved the work. He loved being able to research and study Herbology, to learn new theories and species. He loved seeing his students get excited about successfully replanting Asphodel, or witnessing the bloom of an Evening Glory. It all satisfied him more than anything he'd done as an Auror.

He thought about this, as he sat down in his desk cluttered with potted plants, spilled soil, and, probably, a bowtruckle hiding out somewhere beneath his pile of papers. He quickly set up a teapot and unpacked a cold pasty that the kitchens had delivered to him. He could almost hear his Gran's voice lecturing him to eat a proper lunch, and that he should use his break as an opportunity to mingle and develop connections with the other Professors—but he worked to drown her out by reading his Seventh Years' proposals for their cross-pollinating experiments.

He was particularly excited by this assignment: he wanted them to create their own sub-species that would enhance the plant's healing properties. Fortunately, he only had eight students in his Seventh Year class. Unfortunately, he had asked for three feet of parchment for each of their proposals. They were his last class of the day, so skipping lunch was the only way he'd manage to be ready for them. He was nearly done with the first page, when he heard a sharp cracking sound. It was almost as if someone had apparated, but Neville knew that was impossible on Hogwarts's grounds. Jumping up, wand raised, Neville left his office and slowly stepped out into the main room of Greenhouse One, and immediately noticed the cause of the cracking: the right wall of the Greenhouse was nearly shattered, the cracks rippling out in a distinct spiderweb pattern, all of them emanating from the center. Through the distorted and fogged wall, Neville could make out a short, blurry figure.

"Sorry Nev-Professor!" a familiar voice called out. With a flick of his wand, Neville caused the cracks to fuze back together, the wall becoming a smooth, clear piece of glass once more. The blurry figure solidified into Teddy Lupin whose flaming red hair continued to get brighter in color each second.

"Teddy! You alright?" Neville asked, as he had hurried out of the Greenhouse.

" Yeah I'm fine, but are you going to take points off of Hufflepuff?" Neville took in his worried expression, his hair shifting to an almost fluorescent color. It wasn't so strange that Teddy had broken something; he had apparently inherited his mother's clumsiness. What was strange was that it was lunchtime, and Teddy was alone. He was usually with Ianto—also a second year Hufflepuff (muggleborn)—or with Victorie Weasley.

"No, I won't dock off points. It was just an accident, right?" Neville experienced not an unusual feeling of deja vu. How many times had he been the one asking that question? The brilliance of Teddy's hair began to fade, back to a shade not unlike the Weasleys', but he still looked troubled: "Why don't you come in? It's lunchtime anyway. I've got a couple pasties if you want one."

"I'm not really hungry, Professor," Teddy said, turning to leave, looking even more dejected than when he first smashed the glass of the Greenhouse.

"That's fine. Actually, I'm glad you, er, stopped by. I could use your help for a moment." Neville almost wanted to take back his words: if he didn't read the papers now, there was no way he'd be able to before class. But something was clearly wrong with Teddy.

"Really? What with?"

"I think the Great Lake might have some Fanged Sarracenia, and I've been wanting to gather some for my 6th years to study. But, it's not safe to do it alone." This was true: Neville had been planning on the students examining Sarracenia—but at the end of the year. A quick peek into what 7th year Herbology would be like. In October they were probably not much to look at; they might even be still dormant. But, it was the first thing he could think of.

"Fanged? Like a vampire?" Teddy looked interested almost despite himself.

"Of a sort. It's not terribly dangerous to humans, if you know how to handle them. But if you're a fish—yeah: you want to watch where you're swimming."

"I don't know how much help I'd be. I'm a bit useless, honestly," Teddy muttered quietly, but Neville still caught it.

"You'll be plenty of help. And it won't take too long. Think of it as working off your punishment for trying to destroy the Greenhouse." Neville meant it as a joke, but Teddy still winced.

Neville summoned a glass jar, and they started off. Today had been a rare break from the rain which had been battering Hogwarts for the past week, but the grounds were still beaten into mud, thick and gloopy. By the time they made it to the edge of the lake, both Neville and Teddy had slipped half a dozen times, and their robes were more brown with the smeared mud than black.

"So, the Fanged Sarracenia looks kind of like a water pitcher or a tube. It's usually pink with red veins, and it's a taller plant that grows alongside the water's edge. If you see one, let me know."

"Where's its fangs?

"It hides them on the underside of the top petal—the one that looks like a lid. And when it sees a fish, it bends into the water, stabs it, and drags it away into the tube, letting it bleed out."

"Ugh," Teddy said and gave an involuntary shudder.

"They're not the most friendly flowers." Neville said. They walked along the edge of the lake in silence for a moment. "What were you trying to do earlier?" Neville finally asked, hoping that he sounded casual.

"Expelliarmus. "

"Oh the disarming charm! That's a good one. Are you learning it in Defense Against the Dark Arts now?"

"Yeah. Too bad I'm rubbish at it. I couldn't even disarm a stump. That's what I was practicing on when I misfired."

"It took me a while to get that spell down too. It was in my 5th year when I finally disarmed someone—your godfather actually. Harry was the one who really taught me how to do it." Teddy kicked the ground, but his shoe got stuck in the muck, and he lost his balance, nearly falling into the lake. Neville caught him and steadied him, a bit surprised at his reaction.

"Sorry. It's just, I've already heard about Harry. Professor Praestes started the class by going on and on quoting an interview where Harry said that Expelliarmus was one of the most useful spells to learn and that it helped him escape Voldemort. And then, when we paired up to try it out, I'm facing the Defenders of Hogwarts Memorial, and the whole class was already staring at me because the Professor talked about Harry, and then I had to face their names staring at me, and I just couldn't do it." Neville had only been to see it once after Hogwarts was rebuilt, but he knew what memorial Teddy was talking about. It filled one wall of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, with a list of everyone who helped defend Hogwarts—and gave their lives for it. Harry had argued at length to get Severus Snape's name engraved with the martyrs.

"It's not like I don't want to be their son or Harry's godson, or that I'm not proud of them all. It's just that it feels like everyone is expecting me to be them, or they see something of my parents in me. And I don't think there is anything. It seems like something is missing within me. I don't know if it's because I don't really know them, or if I'm just not good enough or something, but whenever anyone starts going off about how my parents were war heroes and how my dad taught them this, or that they saw my mum do that, or they ask me if Harry ever taught me any cool magic: I just freeze." They had stopped walking now and had given up any pretense of looking for the plant.

"There's a lot of pressure with having to live up to your family's legacy. I can understand a little bit of what you're going through. I was raised by my Gran too. My parents weren't dead—they still aren't—but they were gone. And the only thing I had of them to remind me who they were before the accident were their stories. And my Gran and family never really let me forget that. They meant well, you know. They wanted to help know who my parents are and what it means to be a Longbottom. But, it gave me this impossible image who I was supposed to be, and it was hard," Neville said, feeling, for a moment, like he was fourteen again: cursed with his father's wand, unable to do any magic without wondering if his dad ever struggled like him.

"So how do you make it stop? Do something super heroic—like when you chopped off the head of Voldemort's snake—and then everyone shuts up?" Teddy asked eagerly.

"That would be easier, wouldn't it? But no. No matter what you do, the pressure doesn't go away. People will hear your name, and they will see your face, and they can't help but remember your family. Sometimes, I still find it hard to manage. Now that I've moved on to a different career, I wonder if a part of me was still trying to be my father when I was an Auror."

"Great. Thanks for the helpful advice, Professor. It's comforting to know that I'll always have to deal with this," said Teddy sarcastically, and he began to walk around the lake again.

"Yeah, you will. But, even though none of it—the pressure, the questions, the expectations—goes away, dealing with it all does get better," Neville had caught up to him, but Teddy wouldn't look at him.

"How?"

"You just gotta find what you love to do, Teddy. I know it's cliche to say, but you need to try and be yourself, not your parents or Harry. Then, you can tune out everyone else and focus on what makes you happy." Teddy was still turned away, so Neville couldn't see his face, but then he pointed to a spot a little ways ahead of them.

"Is that one of those Fanged things?" Neville squinted and saw something pink against the mud.

"Well done!" He said, clapping Teddy on the shoulder. "Let's go get it." They marched through the mud together, and Neville had Teddy hold onto the stem by the head of the flower, ready to pull it back in case it decided to go after his hand, as he carefully dug up the roots, and placed it in the jar with a layer of mud.

When Neville stood up, he saw that Teddy had changed his hair again. Now it was back to his usual colors—yellow and black, in honor of Hufflepuff. He checked his watch. Soon the bell would ring, signalling the end of the lunch.

"Thank you Teddy, for helping me find this guy," Neville said, holding up the jar. " If you ever want to talk, I'm here. And I may not be an expert like Harry, but I could help you out with Expellarimus, if you want. It might help to practice on a real person, rather than a stump," Neville said with a smile.

"Thanks Professor. I might do that," said Teddy.

"Good. Now you better head back up to the Castle, or else you might miss your next class." Teddy saluted him, and set off.

Neville watched him for a moment, making sure he was really going back to Hogwarts before turning back to trudge to the Greenhouses. His lunch break hadn't gone to plan: he was covered in mud, still had eight papers to read through, and now he had to take care of a Fanged Saccrencia, but somehow, he felt a little more capable as a teacher after talking with Teddy.