Chapter 14 - Oddments

Neville was going through a big box full of parchments that he had found under the bed. He had always thought the only things his great-uncle had been interested in were politics and quidditch. But in the back of the cupboard he had found cardboard books only instead of pages they contained a hard black disc. Most of them had the same picture on the front and a man's name: Dean Martin. He had also found some strange muggle machine that had a big horn attached to a little box. That was odd, but even odder was the box. He chose one piece of the parchment, unfolded it and began to read what was on it:

My Butterfly

Thine emulous fond flowers are dead, too,
And the daft sun-assaulter, he
That frightened thee so oft, is fled or dead:
Save only me
(Nor is it sad to thee!)
Save only me
There is none left to mourn thee in the fields…

Here he stopped, folded it back up and put it neatly at the side of the box. He didn't like that one but reasoned fairly that he would probably have liked it better if he could have understood it. He wished his great-uncle was here to explain it to him. While he glanced at the rest of the poems to see if any of them were any better, he imagined what it would have been like if he knew about this before Algie had died. He could have explained all the words and images and metaphor-thingys that he had learned about at primary school but had never quite grasped.

Then something right at the bottom of the box caught his eye - a letter. He tried his hardest not read it, that felt more like an invasion of privacy than simply just clearing things out or reading other people's poems. But it was paper - not parchment. That meant it was from a muggle but as far as he knew all his family were wizards.

Now, despite what many people might think, Neville Longbottom did have a very determined mindset when he wanted to, although not determined enough to resist the lure of that letter. He knew instantly by the handwriting that it was a woman, in spite of the fact that the signature was unfamiliar to him. It was clear that this lady had been more than a friend (from the number of love hearts and 'kisses' drawn on the page), but his uncle had never married. He picked it up and (without looking at it) put it as far away from him as possible.

"Neville? Algie only had the box room so it is impossible that he would have so much rubbish that it would take even you all day to sort it out." shouted his Gran from downstairs, her tone even but her voice catching at odd intervals.

Distracted by her impatience, and even more anxious than usual that he shouldn't annoy her, he didn't notice that he was halfway through the second page of his Uncle's letter. It was also because this page contained a poem - carefully copied out with precision and with great love. It was clear whoever had done this had meant the words in the poem. Neville could understand that.

The following morning was the last day at Hogwarts before the holidays and Hannah Abbot had decided to skip breakfast. It wasn't the first meal she hadn't felt up too recently. Actually, it had been happening so much that Pansy Parkinson had commented that "getting dumped by Longbottom was good for her, maybe she'd shrink down to the size of a bear."

"Spiteful bitch." thought Hannah.

As she was sitting in her favourite chair, thinking up more horrible (and completely accurate) descriptions for the pug faced six year but not letting her comments get to her, she imagined she heard a scratch at the basement door. She shook her head as all people do when they imagine things, without any idea why, but it was still there. She was baffled and a little worried about it being Hagrid huge dog, 'til she heard a soft hoot.

It was the owl that had mistakenly delivered Neville's package to her no more than a few weeks ago, what could be pinpointed as the beginning of this predicament. This time however it was trying to deliver to the right person. There was a quick note (irrefutably Neville's messy scrawl) as an explanation and a poem. When Hannah opened the door it dropped the parcel into her hands and flew away again, despite her exasperated sounds.

"Stupid bloody thing, it's gave me………."

That was when she realised that the owl couldn't confused her with Neville again, although she was still perplexed at how it had managed it the first time, because Neville was at home. And it was addressed to her.

"Hannah sorry but somet my Great-Uncle Algie died and I had to come home to help Gran with th a stuff, I was, well I found this and I don't know, read it and you'll see. Hope your o.k. and not mad at me or anything.

Neville.

P.S. I didn't write this poem but it's how I feel about you."

The letter had blots and indentations made by the quill, obviously made when Neville was struggling with his wording. The poem had been copied out more carefully but was still in Neville's sloping script. It was also the first poem that had ever made Hannah cry.