A/N: Okay, I hope you all enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! It made me get all misty-eyed.
PhoenixTearsp322: I just figured that it was another cool little voice trick, but you wouldn't have to be a Singer to know it. And thanks for the heads-up about that error – it's been fixed.
Jemma Blackwell: Gee, I'm sorry if I was harsh in my response to your review of the Sirius chapter. If I was, it wasn't my intention to be so. I could see where you were coming from – one of Sirius' flaws is that he's rather hotheaded. He'll speak without thinking, and he definitely did that in his chapter here. In a way, you're right – he was hyper, though it was only out of concern for the kid that he would have been raising had he not been sent to Azkaban. I just want you to know that I wasn't hurt by your first review – I disagreed, but it was fine. :-) I really like getting reviews from you, whether we see eye-to-eye or not. Cheers!
Dragon's Daughter2: Thanks! And just so you know, I have started Year 6 – it's called Harry Potter and the Dark Uprising and Chapter 1 is up, because I'm not as evil as the end of Guardians might have implied.
krysalys73: Thanks for the encouragement! It's always nice to hear from you, because you're always nice. If you ever have any criticism, though, I'll take it like a woman! You know, I'm not sure what color Ron's eyes are. I just picked brown. I can't remember any place in the books where the color was specified, so if you or anyone else can find one, I'd like to be informed.
Five: Like a Longbottom (Neville Longbottom)
"Neville, wait up!"
Neville looked over his shoulder at his cousin Frannie who was trying to keep pace with him. "Come and get me!" he shouted. He leaned forward behind Marquise's neck and kicked her flanks. "Yah!" The horse's jolting canter became a smooth, full-out gallop.
"I'm gonna catch you this time, cousin! Just wait and see!" Frannie shouted. Her twin brother Max whooped beside her and spurred his own mount forward.
Neville laughed as the wind streamed through Marquise's mane and into his face. There was no feeling in the world that compared to racing along on the back of a horse. Well, maybe flying; of course, this was as close as he'd probably ever get to flying. None of the Longbottoms seemed able to understand how Neville could be such a natural on horseback and so wrong on a broomstick. Neville didn't understand it himself, but he didn't ask questions. He was perfectly happy to keep his backside off broomsticks.
The problem's that broomsticks aren't alive, thought Neville. Then again, they sort of are. Broomsticks could have a mind of their own, especially if they sensed that you weren't in control. You really couldn't communicate with a length of wood. Neville had no idea how his classmates did it. Harry, Ron, Seamus, and Dean were all good flyers, though Harry flew as if he had been born doing it. Neville wouldn't have minded knowing how to fly; it looked like a lot of fun, and he was keenly aware of how much he was missing out on every time he had to sit on the sidelines and watch his family play an informal game of Quidditch. Well, he couldn't do it. Truly living creatures, on the other hand, he could deal with.
Neville had always had an uncanny ability with living things, particularly plants. Herbology was easily his best subject. He wasn't sure exactly how he did it, but he had no trouble coaxing the greenhouse plants to unfold their petals, grow tall, or behave, in the case of Snapdragons and venomous tentaculas. Care of Magical Creatures was another class he did well in, and considering the kinds of things Hagrid brought in, that was saying something.
When the animal wasn't magical, Neville was even more successful. Cats, dogs, frogs, birds… they were all easy to work with. It was almost as if they had all decided that Neville was a kindred spirit and therefore trustworthy. Still, it didn't stop Trevor from escaping at every opportunity. He was a mischievous toad. Neville strongly suspected that Trevor got a good toady laugh at his expense whenever he showed up in the girls' dormitory. The girls would all shriek and squeal and raise a terrible fuss. None of the girls had toads; they were "warty" and "gross".
Unfortunately, skill in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures didn't count for much with Gran. Neville always felt nervous and sad when thinking about his formidable grandmother. He knew that she loved him – she would show it whenever he was least expecting it – but she was obviously disappointed in his performance in school, and Neville hated to disappoint her. She never said it outright, but he knew that she desperately wanted him to live up to his father's reputation. Try as he might, though, Neville knew he would never be able to replace his father – Gran's son. He and Neville's mum had both been Aurors. There was no way Neville would ever be an Auror; he was hopeless at Potions and struggled with Transfiguration, both of which you needed to get into Auror training. And even if he could have gotten in, he knew he'd be jinxed down the very first time he faced danger.
The problem was that the only occupations that carried much honor in the Longbottom clan were ones that brought the clan more honor. A long time ago, two Longbottoms had been Minster of Magic in succession. Neville's Aunt Beatrice was a member of the Assembly. Two uncles were well-known Healers, another Aunt was a Chaser on a league Quidditch team, Gran had a brother who was an Unspeakable, and there were dozens of others who worked at the Ministry of Magic. From the looks of things, Neville was going to grow up to be a gardener. This was not on the family's list of acceptable professions.
The whole family thought Neville was something of a dud. Just like Gran, no one ever said anything where they thought he could hear, but Neville knew what they were thinking. How could he be the son of Frank and Alice? One time, just before he'd gone to Hogwarts, he'd overheard his Aunt Ruby talking with Uncle Glenn. "He's practically a Squib," Aunt Ruby had said. "I think Alice might have taken a stray curse while she was pregnant." Uncle Glenn had seen Neville peeking around the corner and shushed her angrily, but the damage was done. Neville had never really liked Aunt Ruby much. Everyone else treated him like a normal member of the family, but they were always thinking it… even if they were too gracious to bring it up. At least I got into Gryffindor, thought Neville. Things would be a whole lot worse if I hadn't.
Neville breathed in deeply, inhaling Marquise's scent. He loved horses, especially this one. Marquise was his own, a gift from Gran. Neville had learned to ride on her back, and over the years they had grown into lifelong friends. Whenever Neville looked into her warm brown eyes she would gaze back at him so calmly that he felt she knew every inch of him. Marquise never judged him. She really was Neville's closest friend, and he always regretted not being able to bring her to Hogwarts.
A fallen log suddenly appeared in the tall grass ahead, and Marquise cleared it with grace. Neville couldn't help grinning to himself when he realized that his ability to ride would probably impress his classmates back at school. None of them knew he could do it; he never brought it up. None of them knew about his parents either. Contrary to his grandmother's opinion, Neville wasn't ashamed of his mother and father. The problem was, they were truly helpless in their current state, and he didn't want to be pitied by association. His friends at school did that enough although they didn't seem to know that he knew.
Marquise galloped around the edge of a thicket and into a sunny meadow. On the far side was the brook and stand of willows Neville had been looking for. "Easy," he said, pulling back on the reins. Marquise's gallop slowed to a canter and then to a trot. Neville patted her neck. "That was a good run, wasn't it, girl? I'll bet you'd like a drink from that nice, cold stream." Marquise whickered, and Neville smiled.
Frannie and Max suddenly came barreling around the edge of the thicket. "Whoa!" they both cried, quickly reining in their own mounts.
"Almost had you," said Max with a grin.
"No you didn't," said Neville. "I left you back in the dust."
"But we were closer this time!" said Frannie. "Someday we'll catch you."
"Sure you will, kiddo," said Neville, grinning slyly at her. Frannie stuck out her tongue, but she grinned back.
"Come on, let's eat!" said Max. "I'm starving!"
The three of them trotted across the meadow to the willow trees, the twins in front and Neville behind. Max and Frannie had practically been born on horseback, and the way they rode showed it. They were ten years old and still a year away from starting at Hogwarts, but you'd never know it from the way they sat a horse. They were Neville's favorite cousins despite the fact that Aunt Ruby was their mother. They never seemed to care that Neville was the dark horse of the family, and he loved them for it. Max and Frannie always made him feel like a better wizard than the others thought he was.
When they reached the stand of trees the three of them dismounted and let the horses meander. Max unfolded a large picnic blanket, Frannie untied the basket from her saddle, and they settled down for lunch beneath the trees. For a long time they simply ate, laughed, and talked about nothing. Eventually the twins, tired of sitting, picked up long, dead, flexible willow branches from the ground and began using them as swishy swords.
"Dad's teaching us to fence," said Max. "En garde!"
Frannie giggled and stuck her whiplike stick out before her. She and her brother slashed at each other in a disorderly fashion.
"I think you need stiffer sticks," said Neville.
"Yeah," said Max. "I can't run anyone through with this."
"You can't run anyone through if you fight like that, either," said Neville.
"Just wait," said Max, waving his branch about every which way. "I'm going to be the best swordsman ever! None will dare approach me! Hah!"
Neville smiled knowingly. "And when you're waving your sword about like that, someone's going to come up and –"
"Ooof!" said Max, and he dropped his branch.
Frannie laughed with glee, having successfully poked him in the belly with a straighter branch from an oak tree. "Now you're Max-on-a-stick!" she teased.
Max went pink with embarrassment. "I wasn't ready," he pouted.
"You'll get better," said Neville, "but I think that when you've got your weapon in hand you've got to be ready."
"Do you have fencing at Hogwarts?" said Frannie, her eyes shining.
"Yeah! Tell us about Hogwarts!" said Max, his humiliation immediately forgotten.
Neville grinned. His cousins never tired of hearing about school. Neither could wait until they were old enough to attend. "We don't have a fencing class, but we did have a Dueling Club for a while," he said.
"You mean dueling with wands?" said Max.
"Yep," said Neville. "Uncle Glenn taught you how to stand when you fence, right?" The twins nodded. "Well, that's how you start a wizard's duel. Then you cast spells at each other."
"Wow. What kind of spells?" said Frannie.
"Curses, jinxes, and hexes," said Neville.
"I'll bet you know loads of jinxes," said Max.
Neville flushed a bit. "I know some," he said. The twins never seemed aware of how pitiful his skills could be.
"Like what?" Frannie urged.
"Well, there's Tarantallegra," said Neville. "That one makes your feet dance and you can't stop. Or Petrificus Totalus. That makes you freeze, like you've been petrified. And Rictusempra makes you laugh and laugh."
"What good does that do?" said Max.
"It's hard to say a spell properly when you're laughing," said Neville.
"Oh," said Max.
"I'll bet you're really good at dueling," said Frannie admiringly.
"I'm okay," said Neville. "I've got some friends who are better, though. Hermione knows loads of spells."
"Is Harry Potter good at dueling?" said Max.
"He's really good," Neville said truthfully.
"I'll bet he's good at everything," said Frannie.
Neville smiled inwardly. His young cousins, like so many children who had only ever heard the legend of Harry Potter, saw him as a shining, infallible hero. Max and Frannie were completely dumbfounded by the fact that Neville was friends with Harry. Neville knew that this probably contributed to their awe of him, but he didn't mind much. He had the feeling that they'd still be pretty infatuated with him even if he didn't know Harry Potter.
"Well, he's not good at everything," said Neville. "In fact, he's really bad at Divination. Hermione gets better marks than he does. Then again, she gets better marks than everyone."
"Well, he's got to be nice if you like him," said Max.
Neville looked at his cousins. They were beaming at him with such adoration that at that moment, he was more grateful for them than ever. They thought Harry was special because Neville had given him the stamp of approval. They've got no idea how many people see it the other way, thought Neville. People think I'm special because Harry likes me. He smiled back at his cousins, feeling the sting of salty tears in his eyes.
"Look!" said Frannie, pointing across the meadow. "Here comes Daddy!"
Uncle Glenn was cantering toward them on his own chestnut stallion, Achilles. He reined the horse in as he drew close. "Hullo, kids! Enjoying your picnic?"
"Yes, Daddy," said Frannie. "Neville's telling us about the Dueling Club at Hogwarts!"
"Ah," said Uncle Glenn, smiling down at his daughter. "And do they use foils?"
"No, Dad!" said Max. "They use their wands!" The twins giggled.
"Well, speaking of Hogwarts, it's why I've come to find you," he said. "Neville's letter just arrived."
The twins made exclamations of delight and jumped up. Neville's heart sank. His cousins had been harping on the subject of the letter for weeks, knowing that this was the year that prefects were chosen among Neville and his classmates. They kept saying that they were sure it would be Neville, while everyone else just smiled sadly and turned away. None of the adults thought it would be him. They knew how hopeless he was, and now the day Neville had been dreading had finally come. His cousins were about to get a terrible letdown.
"Oh, let's go open it now!" said Frannie.
Neville shook his head. "Can't we stay here a while longer?"
Uncle Glenn gave Neville a sympathetic look. For once, Neville didn't mind. Uncle Glenn was another one of his favorite relatives because he treated Neville like a true member of the family and not an aberration. Sometimes Neville found it hard to believe that he was married to Aunt Ruby. "It might be best to just get it over and done with," Uncle Glenn said kindly.
"Yeah, come on, Neville!" said Max.
Neville sighed and stood up. The twins quickly folded up the picnic blanket, tied the basket behind Frannie's saddle, and mounted their horses. Neville reluctantly followed suit, and the four of them began trotting back to the house.
Neville's insides were writhing like a pit of snakes. As they drew closer to home, he felt more and more as if he were going to sick up. He was so afraid that his cousins were going to be disappointed enough to finally be disillusioned. Would they start looking at him like everyone else did, like a near-Squib that brought shame on the Longbottom name? Neville didn't think he could bear it if that happened.
"Everything will be well," Uncle Glenn said softly at his side. "They'll love you no matter what happens."
Neville looked over at his uncle in surprise. It was as if the older man had read his mind perfectly. Uncle Glenn smiled encouragingly, and Neville felt his heart rise a bit. Maybe he was right about Frannie and Max.
They arrived at the big old house and dismounted. Four house-elves appeared and took the horses' reins as the riders dismounted. Frannie and Max giggled and ran straight into the house, but Neville lingered a moment to stroke Marquise's nose. "At least you don't care if I make prefect or not," he said softly. She whickered and bucked her head as if to show that she understood. Neville sighed and dropped his hand, allowing the house-elves to lead her back to the stables. "Well – let's get it over with," he said morosely. Uncle Glenn squeezed his shoulder, and they walked up the front steps and through the front door.
"I've got it here, Neville, I've got it!" said Max, running up to meet them with his sister. Neville jumped. There it was, staring him in the face – the now familiar creamy envelope addressed in emerald green ink. Professor McGonagall's precise handwriting seemed to mock his feelings of inadequacy.
"Open it, Neville, open it!" said Frannie, bouncing on her toes.
"Hush, Frannie!" said Uncle Glenn. "Don't rush him."
Neville took the envelope from his cousin. His hands felt like two lead weights that would drag his whole body down to the floor. With a mounting sense of dread, he broke the seal and opened the flap. He tilted the envelope up, and to his surprise, something loose slid out and fell to the polished wooden floor.
"I knew it!" Max crowed.
Neville stared down at the thing on the floor in complete disbelief. The afternoon sunlight glinted off the surface of a perfectly polished golden prefect's badge.
"Neville's a prefect!" Frannie squealed, and she took off running down the hallway. "Neville's a prefect! Neville's a prefect!" It sounded like she was moving through all the downstairs rooms to proclaim the news.
Neville bent down to pick up the badge, feeling numb from shock. The shining metal was cool and heavy beneath his fingers. At the top of the badge was a little golden lion, and engraved on the shield was a large letter "P".
Uncle Glenn had begun to chuckle. "Well, I'll be. Congratulations, Neville."
"I…" said Neville, faltering. "I…"
"What is all this racket?" said Gran's sharp voice. "Really, Glenn, your children shouldn't shout indoors –" She broke off in midsentence.
Neville looked up at his grandmother. She was staring openmouthed at the golden thing in his hand. "Neville, is that – "
"He's a prefect, Maggie," said Uncle Glenn proudly.
"My Neville – a prefect?" she said. She raised one hand to her mouth and began to smile behind it. She took a few halting steps toward her grandson. "My Neville?"
Neville stretched out his hand, the badge resting on his open palm. Whenever Gran called him "my Neville", there was nothing he could deny her. Absolutely nothing.
Gran reached out and tenderly touched the prize, her other hand still trembling in front of her mouth. Her smile widened and a tear slid down her cheek. "Oh, I'm so proud," she whispered. "So proud!" She lowered her hand and beamed at Neville. Suddenly she swept forward, put her hands on either side of Neville's face, and kissed his forehead. A moment later, both her arms had swept him up in an embrace. Behind them, Neville heard Uncle Glenn give an emotional sniff.
There came the sound of heels clicking on the wooden floor, and Aunt Ruby's loud, brassy voice filled the entryway. "What's this Frances is saying about Neville being a prefect?"
Neville's grandmother let go of him. He turned toward his aunt and held up the badge. He was smiling as broadly as his Uncle Glenn now; he couldn't help it.
Aunt Ruby gasped. "My word," she said. "I'd never have thought… well, congratulations, nephew!"
"Thank you," said Neville, relieved that she didn't add what she was probably thinking – that Dumbledore had gone off his nut at long last.
It wasn't long before half a dozen of Neville's other aunts and uncles had crowded into the hallway, all of them hugging him and clapping him on the shoulder. The badge was passed around and everyone stared at it in wonder. They were all talking on top of each other, saying how they never would have believed that it could happen, but now that it had they were all proud and it was a great day for the Longbottom family. Neville, however, only had eyes for a scant few people – his grandmother and his two cousins. Gran looked happier than he had seen her in years, and Frannie and Max were jumping up and down with excitement.
"I knew you could do it," said Gran. Neville didn't think anyone else heard her among the jumble of excited voices, but he did.
"You're the best Gryffindor of them all!" said Frannie when it was her turn to hold the badge.
"Yeah," said Max. "Dumbledore said so!"
Gran wiped tears from her eyes, and Neville swallowed the lump in his throat. His heart felt like it was going to burst from his chest, but it wasn't just because of the badge. It was because of the way everyone was looking at him, like someone who was worthy. Like an equal.
Like a Longbottom.