I do not own Harry Potter. The nice lady who is going to give us the real
book six does.
Chapter 3 Stuck
Neville's grandmother stayed in his room for the rest of the day, the lecture never ceasing. In the end he was grounded for the rest of the summer for embarrassing her in front of the entire family, and was no longer going to be allowed off of their property. It wasn't all that bad of a punishment if he thought about it. It wasn't as if he actually went anywhere during the summer, except of course for St. Mungo's, which she had made an exception for.
By the time she left his room, it was nearing midnight. He stared at the dark wood paneling that made up his ceiling He couldn't sleep, no matter how hard he tried. He just wasn't tired. Lying still didn't seem to be an option either as he had been tossing and turning for the past hour. He finally gave up.
He looked over at his beside table. His Mimbulus mimbletonia was in desperate need of repotting. So Neville got out of bed, put on a robe from the basket of clean clothes that he had yet to put away, and made his way downstairs carrying Trevor and the small gray pulsating plant. He went through the kitchen, and out the back door, making his way past the vegetable patch to the small greenhouse nestled in the back corner of the property.
Neville entered and sighed. "Gran never comes out here while I'm away. Does she?" he asked. One of the large faded purple flowers hanging from the ceiling shivered in response, and Neville stroked one of it's drooping leaves to calm it. He walked over to a shelf on the east wall, and grabbed a pair of dragon hide gloves. He pulled them on, looking around to see which supplies he was running low on, making a mental grocery list until he remembered that he wasn't going to be allowed to go get the things that he needed. He sagged his shoulders and looked around at the plants whose care he had taken on. I'll just have to deal with what I have for now. It looks like I have enough dragon dung for most of the repotting, and I have some Mooncalf dung, but I'm running low, so I'll have to watch how much I use.
Neville spent the night out in his greenhouse, replanting, pruning, referring every now and then to the Herbology texts he had with him, and cleaning up the mess that had accumulated since he had left for school. By morning he had everything settled in its place, and had even gotten rid of a potentially dangerous bundimun infestation that had been there for a while considering the size of the whole it left in his shelf. He was covered in earth and compost but very happy with the progress he had made as he walked back through the vegetable patch toward the house. It was nearly six when he stepped through the back door and into the kitchen where he found his grandmother sitting, sipping tea through pursed lips.
"Morning," Neville said a bit nervously, heading upstairs to have a quick shower. His plans, however, changed with one word from Gran.
"Sit," she said, looking him strait in the eye. He sat, but made no move to further the conversation.
"Where have you been all night?" she asked in a surprisingly calm voice.
"I was just..." Neville began to explain, pointing out the back door, but was not allowed to finish.
"What did I tell you just last night?" she asked, her voice slowly becoming louder, and scaring off Trevor. "What did I say was your punishment for what you did to me yesterday?"
"But I was just..." Neville tried again.
"What am I supposed to do with you Neville? I know that if your father were here..." this time Gran was the one who didn't get to finish her thought.
"Well, he's not!" Neville cried out in anger, jumping up from his chair. "He's not here. He's sitting in a hospital bed discussing politics with an armchair, and you're stuck with me. I'm sorry. It's not what I would have chosen either, but we are stuck." He sat silent for a beat and then continued in a much softer tone, "Never mind, we're not," and then rose from the table, made his way through the house, and walked out the front door. "Brilliant," Neville told himself aloud. "That was just brilliant. Now where am I going to go," he sighed, and decided that he ought to be moving, even if he didn't know where he was going to go. At the very least, he wanted to avoid Gran.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes and was about to set off when he realized that one of the pockets that he was using to keep his hands from fidgeting was full of things that he didn't remember putting there. Though, that doesn't imply anything as mysterious as one would think, as Neville forgets where things are on a regular basis. He took the handful of objects out of his pocket for examination. Among them he found the five Galleons which Gran's brother, Frank, who his father was named after, had given him when he had arrived at the reunion for getting such amazing O.W.L. scores. Neville had argued that he had not received his results yet, but as the man is deaf, it didn't do much good. He also found the two Knuts left over from last year's birthday money and a wrapper from a piece of Droobles Blowing Gum. He didn't know how all of these items ended up in the same robes, as he was fairly sure that he had been wearing different robes on the separate occasions on which he found himself in possession of these things. Nevertheless, he found them helpful in his search for what to do now.
He set off on foot and began to make his way east along the winding road that lead toward town. Neville knew that he wasn't exactly in peak physical condition, having avoided sports and such for most of his life due to the fact that he would always mess it up in some way like forgetting a rule, or dropping the ball. He much preferred to watch others play, cheering for his house team, people at random, and even the referee or the ball if he didn't like the teams. He actually found it quite fun to cheer for the snitch. This lack of involvement allowed for only a small amount of strength and stamina in the boy, which could have made his trek a bit more difficult than it should have been, but Neville was in no rush.
He walked at a slow pace, stopping often and for various reasons, whether distracted by the foliage (He even found a patch of dittany which he took piece of for his greenhouse), stopping to admire some interesting something in the distance, or if he had simply tired of walking. He loved the freedom he felt when he was not under anyone's supervision. He had always had either Gran or the teachers at school looking out for him, and with no one around to judge what he was doing he felt so free. He reached the small town around midday, and was careful to walk along the southern road, and not the one that goes strait through the center of town, where people were jostling about, busying themselves with the chores of the day. He made it past the town without any of the muggles noticing him in his funny robes, which he wore over his pajamas.
When he was just a few minutes outside of town, he caught sight of his destination. A huge manor sitting on the crest of a hill was just visible off in the distance. Neville felt rather triumphant, even though he knew he had a ways to go. He had expected himself to get lost along the way, but with his goal in sight he was feeling rather confident.
Most of Neville's afternoon was spent walking, and he was beginning to realize that he was quite hungry. The rush of freedom was beginning to wear off. He hadn't eaten much at dinner yesterday, and Gran wouldn't let him in the kitchen while she was cooking for lunch. He tried to put it out of his mind, saying he would eat when he got where he was going. It was nearing five when Neville found himself at the bottom of the hill on which the stately manor resided. Another half-hour and he was at the door, drenched in sweat as the evening had brought with it heat that the noonday sun could not rival.
Neville pushed the door open and stepped inside. He walked through the entryway, his shoes thumping against the marble of the floor quite loudly, but he didn't care. He stuck his head around the corner to see if anyone was in the next room. Finding it empty, he made his was over to the mantle, only to find that there was no fire in the grate. He hadn't thought of that. There were logs, but no fire. He slumped down on the floor and sighed. I knew something was going to go wrong with this, Neville thought as he stared into the empty grate.
It had been the perfect plan. Walk over to Great Uncle Frank's house. Grab a handful of Floo powder, and Floo to London. As Frank Longbottom hated the downstairs of his home because it was too drafty, lived alone, and as he couldn't hear it even if Neville had blow up the place, it was all going to work out perfectly. He just hadn't thought about the fire. Neville couldn't use magic to start one, and he had no idea how to start a fire the muggle way. He vaguely remembered something about having to match something, but what he was supposed to match he didn't know.
He decided that he would go check the other rooms, but he was sure that it would be pointless. He was right, to a certain extent, there were no fires going in the downstairs portions of the house. He did, however, find a stash of Floo powder, and grabbed an apple from the kitchen. He began to pace around the living room that he had started out in. It was no use, with out a fire, his whole plan would just have to be scrapped.
He devoured the apple he had taken, and threw it in a nearby bin. He shoved his hands in his pockets and continued pacing, desperate to think of a new plan. He thought about checking upstairs for a fire, but that was far too risky. He really didn't want to get caught. He ran his thumb over the gum wrapper in his pocket, a habit he had as he usually had one in his pocket. Some of them in his shoe box, where he keeps all of the 'presents' his mother gives him, were so worn you couldn't tell what they said. As he did so, he felt something soft against his knuckles. Brows furrowed in confusion, Neville with drew the something from his pocket. The dittany, Neville thought. Why didn't I think of that before?
Neville stepped out the back door and placed the plant on the ground before him. Then he waited. He knew that things took their own time, and was usually very patient when working with his plants, but he was very fidgety this time. He was afraid that the sun would set before he was finished. A few moments later what looked like steam began to rise from the blossoms laid out before him and Neville was suddenly still. He was counting the seconds until the sun would finally work its magic, careful to stay back as the smell of mint was nearly burning his nose. After dittany is cut away from its roots it is rather unstable. Exposure to a great amount of heat causes it to release extremely flammable and magical vapors. If those vapors meet enough heat it can. The blossoms burst into flame. It wasn't a big fire, but Neville hoped it would do.
He picked up the plant by the stem, and carried it into the house. He carefully kept his eyes on the fire, for fear it would disappear if he didn't watch it close. He stumbled on the threshold, but the flame burned on. He had made it all the way into the living room, when the fire flickered, and nearly died. I guess it is drafty down here after all. I always thought he was just crazy. A small flame still licked at the other end of the stem, but Neville was nearly sure it wouldn't be enough. He set it atop the logs and turned to grab a handful of the shimmering powder, listening to the evening wind blow in the trees outside now that the sun had set. He turned back to the fireplace to find a large fire happily crackling as if it had been going for hours. Completely confused, but happy nonetheless, Neville took a quick look around, threw the powder into the fire, stepped in, and shouted "Diagon Alley!"
- _ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _ -
Frank Longbottom had been woken by his perimeter ward. He had come downstairs to answer the door, only to find that Evelyn's grandson had already let himself in. The boy was peaking into the next room when Frank found him. He was acting extremely suspicious, and Frank was curious as to what he could be up to, so he let him be. He watched as the teen stole his Floo powder from his office and an apple from the kitchen. He was about to interrupt his nephew's pacing when Neville pulled something from his pocket and headed out the back door. He placed the something, which turned out to be a flower, on the ground, and Frank was quite sure that the child had lost his mind. He was once again about to interrupt when the flower on the ground caught fire. Frank was mildly impressed and stepped into the shadowed kitchen as Neville came by. He watched the boy stumble, and watched as the fire was nearly blown out. The now only slightly burning stem was placed in the fire. Frank knew it wouldn't be enough, but was impressed with the boy's resourcefulness. He muttered a spell to light a roaring fire, and ducked back into the shadow. No wonder Evelyn's so hard on the boy, Frank mused. He's just like his parents.
A/N I think that this is my longest chapter yet. Hopefully it's a trend. I would like to thank everyone who reviewed, Erfa for taking time out of a grueling schedule to beta for me, and Luci who helped me get Neville 'un- stuck' from a point about halfway through this chapter, where he stayed for several days. Now review, pretty please.
Chapter 3 Stuck
Neville's grandmother stayed in his room for the rest of the day, the lecture never ceasing. In the end he was grounded for the rest of the summer for embarrassing her in front of the entire family, and was no longer going to be allowed off of their property. It wasn't all that bad of a punishment if he thought about it. It wasn't as if he actually went anywhere during the summer, except of course for St. Mungo's, which she had made an exception for.
By the time she left his room, it was nearing midnight. He stared at the dark wood paneling that made up his ceiling He couldn't sleep, no matter how hard he tried. He just wasn't tired. Lying still didn't seem to be an option either as he had been tossing and turning for the past hour. He finally gave up.
He looked over at his beside table. His Mimbulus mimbletonia was in desperate need of repotting. So Neville got out of bed, put on a robe from the basket of clean clothes that he had yet to put away, and made his way downstairs carrying Trevor and the small gray pulsating plant. He went through the kitchen, and out the back door, making his way past the vegetable patch to the small greenhouse nestled in the back corner of the property.
Neville entered and sighed. "Gran never comes out here while I'm away. Does she?" he asked. One of the large faded purple flowers hanging from the ceiling shivered in response, and Neville stroked one of it's drooping leaves to calm it. He walked over to a shelf on the east wall, and grabbed a pair of dragon hide gloves. He pulled them on, looking around to see which supplies he was running low on, making a mental grocery list until he remembered that he wasn't going to be allowed to go get the things that he needed. He sagged his shoulders and looked around at the plants whose care he had taken on. I'll just have to deal with what I have for now. It looks like I have enough dragon dung for most of the repotting, and I have some Mooncalf dung, but I'm running low, so I'll have to watch how much I use.
Neville spent the night out in his greenhouse, replanting, pruning, referring every now and then to the Herbology texts he had with him, and cleaning up the mess that had accumulated since he had left for school. By morning he had everything settled in its place, and had even gotten rid of a potentially dangerous bundimun infestation that had been there for a while considering the size of the whole it left in his shelf. He was covered in earth and compost but very happy with the progress he had made as he walked back through the vegetable patch toward the house. It was nearly six when he stepped through the back door and into the kitchen where he found his grandmother sitting, sipping tea through pursed lips.
"Morning," Neville said a bit nervously, heading upstairs to have a quick shower. His plans, however, changed with one word from Gran.
"Sit," she said, looking him strait in the eye. He sat, but made no move to further the conversation.
"Where have you been all night?" she asked in a surprisingly calm voice.
"I was just..." Neville began to explain, pointing out the back door, but was not allowed to finish.
"What did I tell you just last night?" she asked, her voice slowly becoming louder, and scaring off Trevor. "What did I say was your punishment for what you did to me yesterday?"
"But I was just..." Neville tried again.
"What am I supposed to do with you Neville? I know that if your father were here..." this time Gran was the one who didn't get to finish her thought.
"Well, he's not!" Neville cried out in anger, jumping up from his chair. "He's not here. He's sitting in a hospital bed discussing politics with an armchair, and you're stuck with me. I'm sorry. It's not what I would have chosen either, but we are stuck." He sat silent for a beat and then continued in a much softer tone, "Never mind, we're not," and then rose from the table, made his way through the house, and walked out the front door. "Brilliant," Neville told himself aloud. "That was just brilliant. Now where am I going to go," he sighed, and decided that he ought to be moving, even if he didn't know where he was going to go. At the very least, he wanted to avoid Gran.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes and was about to set off when he realized that one of the pockets that he was using to keep his hands from fidgeting was full of things that he didn't remember putting there. Though, that doesn't imply anything as mysterious as one would think, as Neville forgets where things are on a regular basis. He took the handful of objects out of his pocket for examination. Among them he found the five Galleons which Gran's brother, Frank, who his father was named after, had given him when he had arrived at the reunion for getting such amazing O.W.L. scores. Neville had argued that he had not received his results yet, but as the man is deaf, it didn't do much good. He also found the two Knuts left over from last year's birthday money and a wrapper from a piece of Droobles Blowing Gum. He didn't know how all of these items ended up in the same robes, as he was fairly sure that he had been wearing different robes on the separate occasions on which he found himself in possession of these things. Nevertheless, he found them helpful in his search for what to do now.
He set off on foot and began to make his way east along the winding road that lead toward town. Neville knew that he wasn't exactly in peak physical condition, having avoided sports and such for most of his life due to the fact that he would always mess it up in some way like forgetting a rule, or dropping the ball. He much preferred to watch others play, cheering for his house team, people at random, and even the referee or the ball if he didn't like the teams. He actually found it quite fun to cheer for the snitch. This lack of involvement allowed for only a small amount of strength and stamina in the boy, which could have made his trek a bit more difficult than it should have been, but Neville was in no rush.
He walked at a slow pace, stopping often and for various reasons, whether distracted by the foliage (He even found a patch of dittany which he took piece of for his greenhouse), stopping to admire some interesting something in the distance, or if he had simply tired of walking. He loved the freedom he felt when he was not under anyone's supervision. He had always had either Gran or the teachers at school looking out for him, and with no one around to judge what he was doing he felt so free. He reached the small town around midday, and was careful to walk along the southern road, and not the one that goes strait through the center of town, where people were jostling about, busying themselves with the chores of the day. He made it past the town without any of the muggles noticing him in his funny robes, which he wore over his pajamas.
When he was just a few minutes outside of town, he caught sight of his destination. A huge manor sitting on the crest of a hill was just visible off in the distance. Neville felt rather triumphant, even though he knew he had a ways to go. He had expected himself to get lost along the way, but with his goal in sight he was feeling rather confident.
Most of Neville's afternoon was spent walking, and he was beginning to realize that he was quite hungry. The rush of freedom was beginning to wear off. He hadn't eaten much at dinner yesterday, and Gran wouldn't let him in the kitchen while she was cooking for lunch. He tried to put it out of his mind, saying he would eat when he got where he was going. It was nearing five when Neville found himself at the bottom of the hill on which the stately manor resided. Another half-hour and he was at the door, drenched in sweat as the evening had brought with it heat that the noonday sun could not rival.
Neville pushed the door open and stepped inside. He walked through the entryway, his shoes thumping against the marble of the floor quite loudly, but he didn't care. He stuck his head around the corner to see if anyone was in the next room. Finding it empty, he made his was over to the mantle, only to find that there was no fire in the grate. He hadn't thought of that. There were logs, but no fire. He slumped down on the floor and sighed. I knew something was going to go wrong with this, Neville thought as he stared into the empty grate.
It had been the perfect plan. Walk over to Great Uncle Frank's house. Grab a handful of Floo powder, and Floo to London. As Frank Longbottom hated the downstairs of his home because it was too drafty, lived alone, and as he couldn't hear it even if Neville had blow up the place, it was all going to work out perfectly. He just hadn't thought about the fire. Neville couldn't use magic to start one, and he had no idea how to start a fire the muggle way. He vaguely remembered something about having to match something, but what he was supposed to match he didn't know.
He decided that he would go check the other rooms, but he was sure that it would be pointless. He was right, to a certain extent, there were no fires going in the downstairs portions of the house. He did, however, find a stash of Floo powder, and grabbed an apple from the kitchen. He began to pace around the living room that he had started out in. It was no use, with out a fire, his whole plan would just have to be scrapped.
He devoured the apple he had taken, and threw it in a nearby bin. He shoved his hands in his pockets and continued pacing, desperate to think of a new plan. He thought about checking upstairs for a fire, but that was far too risky. He really didn't want to get caught. He ran his thumb over the gum wrapper in his pocket, a habit he had as he usually had one in his pocket. Some of them in his shoe box, where he keeps all of the 'presents' his mother gives him, were so worn you couldn't tell what they said. As he did so, he felt something soft against his knuckles. Brows furrowed in confusion, Neville with drew the something from his pocket. The dittany, Neville thought. Why didn't I think of that before?
Neville stepped out the back door and placed the plant on the ground before him. Then he waited. He knew that things took their own time, and was usually very patient when working with his plants, but he was very fidgety this time. He was afraid that the sun would set before he was finished. A few moments later what looked like steam began to rise from the blossoms laid out before him and Neville was suddenly still. He was counting the seconds until the sun would finally work its magic, careful to stay back as the smell of mint was nearly burning his nose. After dittany is cut away from its roots it is rather unstable. Exposure to a great amount of heat causes it to release extremely flammable and magical vapors. If those vapors meet enough heat it can. The blossoms burst into flame. It wasn't a big fire, but Neville hoped it would do.
He picked up the plant by the stem, and carried it into the house. He carefully kept his eyes on the fire, for fear it would disappear if he didn't watch it close. He stumbled on the threshold, but the flame burned on. He had made it all the way into the living room, when the fire flickered, and nearly died. I guess it is drafty down here after all. I always thought he was just crazy. A small flame still licked at the other end of the stem, but Neville was nearly sure it wouldn't be enough. He set it atop the logs and turned to grab a handful of the shimmering powder, listening to the evening wind blow in the trees outside now that the sun had set. He turned back to the fireplace to find a large fire happily crackling as if it had been going for hours. Completely confused, but happy nonetheless, Neville took a quick look around, threw the powder into the fire, stepped in, and shouted "Diagon Alley!"
- _ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _ -
Frank Longbottom had been woken by his perimeter ward. He had come downstairs to answer the door, only to find that Evelyn's grandson had already let himself in. The boy was peaking into the next room when Frank found him. He was acting extremely suspicious, and Frank was curious as to what he could be up to, so he let him be. He watched as the teen stole his Floo powder from his office and an apple from the kitchen. He was about to interrupt his nephew's pacing when Neville pulled something from his pocket and headed out the back door. He placed the something, which turned out to be a flower, on the ground, and Frank was quite sure that the child had lost his mind. He was once again about to interrupt when the flower on the ground caught fire. Frank was mildly impressed and stepped into the shadowed kitchen as Neville came by. He watched the boy stumble, and watched as the fire was nearly blown out. The now only slightly burning stem was placed in the fire. Frank knew it wouldn't be enough, but was impressed with the boy's resourcefulness. He muttered a spell to light a roaring fire, and ducked back into the shadow. No wonder Evelyn's so hard on the boy, Frank mused. He's just like his parents.
A/N I think that this is my longest chapter yet. Hopefully it's a trend. I would like to thank everyone who reviewed, Erfa for taking time out of a grueling schedule to beta for me, and Luci who helped me get Neville 'un- stuck' from a point about halfway through this chapter, where he stayed for several days. Now review, pretty please.