Chapter 22: Grims and Greenhouses
Neville tried to concentrate while huddled with Ron. Both boys kept their heads on a swivel, each peering down into the teacup in their hands before moving on to check their partner's.
"All right, I give up – what the bollocks are we supposed to be looking for?" Ron groaned.
Neville understood this was a new, and so far, perplexing class but for both their sakes (he and Ron tended to struggle academically even when the subject was easy), one of them had to at least make an effort to understand the assignment. "Professor Trelawny said it's called 'reading the tea leaves.'"
Ron only appeared more confused than ever. "Except our tea didn't have any leaves!" he ground out, frustrated.
"Hadn't any leaves, Ronald," Hermione loftily corrected his grammar. From where she was seated at the next round table over with Harry, trying to help their bespectacled classmate, she might have also been tempted to admonish her friend to not take everything so literally.
Neville couldn't exactly blame Ron, however, as he went back to searching for…. something at the stained bottom of his own teacup. It might have been Hermione's idea to rope him and Ron into this course – that she would dare to take on the fullest course load this term hadn't surprised them – and it might be only their first class, but already, he had to agree with Ron: Divination was bloody batty.
The atmosphere didn't exactly help. Not only were they conducting a sign reading that made it seem like they were at a really dull tea party, but the Divination classroom – set in a converted attic in one of the castle's turrets – was bright in all together loud colors that would have befitted the theme at a really dull tea party. As for the professor herself…. well, the most Neville could say about her was that Trelawny gave off the appearance of a free-love hippie who had just wandered off the commune. Or perhaps one of those apocalyptic doomsayers who always stood on street corners. She wore glasses even more owlish than poor Harry did, which accentuated her naturally large eyes that seemed to be bugged out all the time. You had always best be prepared for when she came up to you, for when she did, it was so sudden and such an invasion of personal space that it was liable to give any thirteen-year-old a heart attack.
Lifting his head out of the teacup and scanning until he picked out where Trelawny was tottering at tables in the back of the risers, Neville resolved to read some sort of sign in his cup before the professor came back around. Trelawny had opened the class by giving everyone a full cuppa and instructing them to down it, at which point, you were supposed to interpret some sort of premonition from the tea stains and froth bubbles left behind.
"Signs, my arse," Ron grumbled, lifting his teacup at eye-level and tilting it this way and that.
"Pinky out, Ron," Hermione reminded him in a soft mumble. Though in profile, Neville thought he saw her smirking.
Ron nearly threw down his teacup in sheer anger and only stopped himself in the nick of time. "Hang it all, woman! We're not actually at a tea party!"
"Perhaps not, but there is no better time to learn these things than when there is an actual cup and saucer in front of you!" she chirped back, lecturing.
Ron huffed out a put-upon sigh and turned his head into Neville's. "Pity the poor sod who marries her one day! She'd drive any husband to distraction!" Neville wasn't sure which side he was supposed to take in this moment, so he opted to say nothing. Neutrality was usually the best policy, when Ron and Hermione were squabbling.
"Sod it, I'm just gonna say I see a cute little rainbow pony in mine," Ron snorted, moving to slam his teacup onto his saucer.
"Gently…." Hermione prompted just on the edge of her breath.
Ron sneered at her and made a dramatic show of setting his teacup daintily down.
Neville bit back a sigh and resumed staring at the froth bubbles and tea stains that he already was beginning to conclude didn't mean a thing.
"Gentlemen!" Neville and Ron nearly jumped and overturned their tea set as Trelawny suddenly appeared at their side from almost nowhere. "What secrets have you uncovered in the cup? The stains… the stains will tell…."
"Yeah. They're telling me this bird is a stain on the school," Ron dared to hiss into Neville's ear, under his breath. Neville had to bite the inside of his cheek to hold in a laugh. Looking every bit the cheeky devil, the redheaded Weasley held out his cup to Trelawny first. "I see a cute little rainbow pony in mine," he announced.
The class erupted into appreciative laughter, except for Hermione, who scoffed and rolled her eyes, and Neville, who cringed. "Is that seriously your final answer?" he murmured.
"Don't ruddy care at this point, mate!"
To Neville's utter shock, upon further inspection, Trelawny apparently seemed to accept Ron's bullshit answer. "Oh, yes, I can detect the horn! …. Well done, Mr. Weasley." Even Ron appeared stunned that a professor would accept something that wouldn't pass the Hermione Test. He muttered something that sounded like, "Blind as a bat, she is!"
"And you, Mr. Longbottom?"
Neville held out his cup to her sheepishly. "I, um…. I couldn't really tell with mine…"
"Quite all right, dear; it's only your first tea-reading…." Trelawny took the cup from him and made to inspect it. She had barely looked in before she was suddenly letting out a cry of shock and dropping the cup completely, so that the china shattered upon the wooden floor. The Divination professor actually clutched a hand to her heart and staggered back into Hermione's table, causing the bushy-haired witch to frown.
"Oh….. oh, my dear…." Trelawny peered at Neville warily. "You…. you have…. the Grim."
The boys looked at each other. "What's a Grim?"
Reading aloud from the textbook, Dean Thomas answered the question for them. "The Grim is one of the most foreboding signs within our world, usually taking the form of a black dog," he intoned. "It is generally interpreted as an omen…. of death."
From around Trelawny, Hermione muttered something that sounded like, "Superstitions and nonsense!" Neville, meanwhile, peered over the edge of the table and down at the shards of his ruined teacup. A tea stain that, now that he gave it another look, appeared to take on the shape of a dog, stared back at him from one of the shards.
Much of autumn this term had been overcast, even rainy, causing an uneasy pallor to descend upon the castle grounds like a thick fog. The atmosphere might have been more timely and appropriate last year, during much of the Chamber of Secrets horrors, but even so, Neville felt a kind of depression weigh down on him. Perhaps it was something seasonal.
None of this, of course, was helped by the fact that one could see those Dementors in the distance, guarding every entrance into the grounds of the school. Dumbledore had announced their presence during the Start-of-Term Feast, though he had clearly appeared reluctant to do so. The Headmaster claimed it was for the students' protection against a perceived threat, though neither he nor anyone else on staff deigned to mention what that threat was. Ron called it government overreach. Even Hermione seemed worried, though her analysis was far more in-depth. She feared, likely correctly, that the teachers were learning all the wrong lessons from the Chamber of Secrets debacle – that lesson being, apparently, not to be too transparent with the students, lest that transparency cause mass panic. People had been spooked enough all of last term, with rumors flying about that Hogwarts itself might be closed down.
So far, the one solace Neville was finding, besides in his friends, was in their Herbology courses. Ever since first year, he had found Herbology to be one of the only classes – if not the only class – he was actually good at. He had gotten full marks, same as Hermione, both first and second year.
Today, in Professor Sprout's greenhouse and with small beams of sunlight straining to poke through the clouds as well as the skylights, Neville, Ron and Hermione were busy perfecting their skills in magical pruning.
Hermione grinned admiringly at the potted rose bush before her, Levitating her shears with expert grace and shearing off the unwanted thorns carefully. "I've always loved roses," she sighed. "They're my favorite flower!"
"What, not Devil's Snare?" Ron cracked, grin widening when he actually managed to elicit a giggle from her. Neville felt his lips upturn a little, glad that more than a year on, they were managing to find some humor in what they had experienced after going down the trapdoor after the Sorcerer's Stone.
"No," Hermione chuckled, shaking her head.
Ron shrugged. "Well, roses are a more of a Muggle plant, yeah?"
Neville shrugged. "Harry says his Aunt Petunia keeps one in her flower bed."
"Yeah, and it's not like they have any magical properties," Ron pointed out.
"Other than beauty," Hermione sighed almost dreamily, pausing her shears so she could stare at the rose admiringly. Waving her wand, she lowered the potted plant to the worktable. "I'd like for roses to be in my wedding bouquet one day. I've also always really liked it as a name: Rose. If I ever had a daughter, that's what I'd name her."
The boys glanced at each other and shrugged, smiling fondly. That was their Hermione for them. Ron studied her with bemusement. "Huh. You know, Hermione, it's not just learning something new every day with you. It's learning something new every day about you."
Hermione blinked, glancing to Ron shyly through the curtain of her bushy chestnut tresses. "Always the tone of surprise," she murmured to him amusedly, though her smile was shy and she blushed.
The bell tolled in the clock tower just then, off in the distance, and Ron happily set down his shears with a flick of his wand. "Free period!" He didn't notice how the shears made one last unfortunate clip, slicing off the top of his rhododendron. "Want to hang down by the Black Lake?"
Biting her lip to hide what might have been a bashful smile, Hermione bobbed her head eagerly. She happily flounced for the door, Ron at her side, both of them turning at the door when they saw Neville had not followed.
"Coming, Neville?"
Neville glanced up from where he had zoned out staring at his pruned plant, lost in his own thoughts. He tried to smile good-naturedly, though he knew it came off more as tired. "You lot go on ahead. I'll…. I'll catch up."
Hermione and Ron smiled at him, then departed together, side-by-side and nearly arm-in-arm.
Neville set about cleaning the workbench as Professor Sprout bustled in from the adjacent greenhouse. The portly professor grinned.
"Hanging back again, Neville?"
Neville smiled at his favorite professor. "Yes, ma'am. Just needed some time to think."
Sprout grinned as she rounded the worktable, carrying a pot in her arms. "Always wise to take some time for yourself."
Studying the shape to the branches of the plant she was carrying, Neville identified it almost instantly. "Mandrake?"
Sprout nodded. "A specimen left over from last term. I'm so relieved they worked out in reviving everyone who was Petrified!"
Neville wholeheartedly agreed. He shuddered thinking back to seeing Hermione looking so still in that Hospital Wing bed. "Your lecture on them last term was my favorite!"
"I agree. Though I daresay it better not be because young Master Potter neglected his earmuffs and fainted!"
"…. and you told Seamus to just leave him there!" Neville blasted.
"Oh, dear!" Sprout chuckled, embarrassed with herself even as teacher and student shared a laugh. "Not my proudest moment…." Appraising the worktable, Sprout nodded. "How would you like to help around the greenhouse more, Longbottom? You've always known your way around!"
"I'd like that," Neville brightened. "I wish I could have helped more with the Mandrakes last term…."
"I think you had other things on your mind," Sprout pointed out knowingly. She removed her work gloves. "Well, you can start by tidying up for me, if you don't mind using up your free period. Dumbledore's called an emergency staff meeting, and I mustn't be late."
Neville frowned curiously, wondering what was going on that an emergency staff meeting had to be convened.
"…. Miss Lovegood will help you get everything sorted," Sprout was saying, gesturing to someone behind him.
Neville turned and looked. A girl with bright blonde hair was just stepping inside from the connecting greenhouses. Her face was oval, with dimpled cheeks. Her pale skin seemed impossibly smooth, Neville discerned. When she lifted her eyes to meet his, he was struck by the flash of silver in them.
He couldn't help but appraise her further. From the blue lining to her robes, he discerned she was a Ravenclaw, perhaps in his same year. She had a button nose, and bow lips that were now frozen in a curious, serene smile.
"Hullo, Neville Longbottom." Her voice was light, airy so that it seemed to float somewhere outside her body. She practically glided over to him. From her countenance, the way she carried herself, Neville had to wonder if she was like one of those Veelas he had been reading about in his Care of Magical Creatures book, taught this term by Professor Rubeus Hagrid. Except Veelas were supposed to be stunningly beautiful; this Lovegood girl came off as simply pretty, pleasant enough to look at. Plus, she didn't harbor any of the telltale markings of a Veela. Something dangling near her ear caught the light and Neville focused in on it. Her earring…. was it shaped like a radish?
"Thank you, Luna," Sprout smiled at the Ravenclaw girl kindly, before turning and leaving them alone.
For a time, the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw worked together in silence. Neville would occasionally glance her way as he swept up the discarded soil. Busying herself over a Venomous Tentacula, she still had a content, dreamy grin on her face.
"You…. you'll want to be careful with those," he warned her.
Luna lifted her head and smiled at him brightly. "Oh, I know," she chirped. "Venomous Tentacula can smell when blood is near, even when it's unexposed. But this specimen's been charmed into sleeping. See?" she pointed to where the Venomous Tentacula's leaves were shivering, opening up to conduct photosynthesis and doing so in such a pronounced way that the plant itself looked like it was snoring.
Neville nodded, relieved. "Very good," he smiled. They went back into a lulled silence for a moment or two before he turned back to her. "I've heard Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley mention a Luna at meals from time to time. You wouldn't happen to be…."
"…. The same?" Luna lifted her head to grin at him again. Neville had to concede that as fixed a smile as it might be, he rather liked her smile. "I should think so. Unless there is another Luna here I'm not aware of…" She seemed to ponder this quite seriously, though anyone else might have taken it to be a humorous quip. Neville certainly did, laughing a little. Luna glanced at him again, bemused. "You don't think there could be more than one Luna at Hogwarts?"
"Erm…. I suppose so. If there are, they aren't in Gryffindor…." He looked askance, turning back to gathering up the abandoned shears and setting them high on a shelf. "You're in Ravenclaw, aren't you?"
"Oh, yes. Second year."
That surprised him; he thought she might have been in third year. "I can understand how you know Ginny Weasley then."
"We met on the train coming out this term," Luna hummed breezily, rounding the worktable to join him by the shelf, organizing the gloves into a small pile. "Harry Potter then came and joined us in our compartment. We got to talking for hours." She shrugged, grinning at him in a friendly manner. "It's nice to have friends."
Something about the way she said this made Neville wonder if she simply appreciated friends more than most, and if so, why that would be. He shifted his stance to turn back to the table….
"Careful, Neville Longbottom!" Luna suddenly gave a cry of warning and grabbed for his forearm and tugged him to the side, causing him to stumble a little. He started, glancing about and thinking he might have been about to bang his head on a shelf, yet he was nowhere near any.
"What? What's wrong?"
"A Wrackspurt!" Luna's silvery eyes were big and round, though this was belied by her voice maintaining that same tranquil tone. "It was about to fly right in your ear! They can burrow there, all the way into your skull."
Neville frowned, shifting his head this way and that. "I don't see one. A…. a Wrackspurt, did you call it?"
"That can't always be seen with the naked eye," Luna pointed out, sounding quite serious.
"Huh," he pondered her. "Then how do you know they're…. there?" With a dose of skepticism, even a healthy one, he sounded almost like Hermione.
"Believing can be just as strong, if not stronger, than seeing." The sincerity with which she spoke floored him.
"I thought seeing was believing. Or, er, believing is seeing."
"That's what they all say," Luna replied. "Beware, Neville Longbottom – conflating the two can be quite dangerous. Believing and seeing are very much two separate things. You have to believe first. Only then can you truly see."
He peered at her, having already decided he had never before encountered a Hogwarts classmate quite like her. "See what?"
She peered up at him, studying him as though he were a particularly interesting oil painting, sizing him up. "The beauty and potential in all things."
Neville couldn't help but stare at her, even gawp a little. In terms of mannerisms, she came off as eccentric as Professor Trelawny, yet that little kernel of wisdom she had just imparted was as profound as something Hermione might say. Well, Hermione was more textbook-smart. This girl, Luna, came off as wise. Others, Ron definitely included, might call it barmy. But he…. he found it…. refreshing.
Studying her round, lovely face, Neville paused and peered closer. Luna tilted her head and stared right back, like she was a curious puppy.
"What is it, Neville Longbottom?" He found it baffling how she continued to address him by his full name.
"Erm…. You've…. you've got a…." When she continued to blink at him doefully, he dared to lick his thumb and use it to wipe a smudge of dirt off her otherwise unblemished, porcelain cheek. For some reason, he let his thumb linger, hovering for a moment, before he dropped it sheepishly. Incredibly, Luna seemed entirely unbothered by this.
"Thank you, Neville Longbottom," she cheeped.
Neville grinned awkwardly. "It's just Neville."
"OK…. Just Neville." She smiled at him, though not in a teasing way, as others might have in that moment. He had only just met her, and yet Neville was already starting to learn that Luna didn't interact with or move through the world around her the way that others would. He found that it made for a nice change.
And something else that made for a nice change: as he and Luna continued to clean up and talk quietly, not once did she appear awed by him, or seem to register the fact that he was Neville Longbottom, the Boy Who Lived. In fact, she didn't bring it up once.
And that was the most refreshing thing of all.