THC/The Houses Competition (not posted)

House: Gryffindor

Class: Muggle Studies

Category: Standard

Prompt(s): [Character] Neville Longbottom; [Action] Planting in a garden

Word Count: 2969 words

Thank you for beta reading and correcting, Turanga_4 + Gryffindor team

A/N : Some spells are 'home-made' using a Latin-English dictionary.

Warnings for child discipline.


"You'll be washing your shoes yourself next time."

That's what Gran Auggie told Neville, sticking the sole of his mooncalf trainers into his face. "Stupid boy, your head is like a sieve. How many times do I have to tell you to watch your step?"

Despite being washed thrice, the shoe still smelled of poo. It made Neville cry. Not because it stank, but because he remembered what gran told him.

"Watch your step, and keep your clothes clean."

Fridays were for going to the shops in Diagon Alley. That Friday morning, Gran let Neville stand in the yard while she went to fetch her wool vest, as she could feel a draft coming on.

He repeated her words to himself over and over again as he stood outside the flat. Watch your step, and keep your clothes clean. He stood on the grass because it looked cleaner than the road. He only kicked a few pebbles aside, and before he knew it, his gran had grabbed him by the hand and asked him what that awful smell was.

It was his shoes.

In the ten minutes he was outside, he managed to step into a large, stinky pile of kneazle turds.

Maybe he was just a stupid boy. Why couldn't he just listen?

Gran was very cross with him. They didn't go to the shops in time because she spent the better part of the morning washing his shoes. By the time they arrived, they were sold out of gran's tea biscuits and chicken drumsticks.

"You wasted my time. Canned beans for supper tonight," Gran said, holding the can in front of him.

"I don't think so," Neville said solemnly. It was the truth.

Neville was sure gran was only happy with him when he sat on the sofa reading to her from Gilderoy Lockhart's Guide to Household Pests while she knitted.

That Saturday morning, gran made him do extra housework as punishment. He dusted the vases, wiped the baseboards, polished the mirrors and wiped the tea service after gran washed it. Then, a bee flew in through the window and sat on gran's cheek. He swatted at it and broke one of her saucers in the process. For that, he got a good ear-boxing. The day was bad.

On Sunday, he changed the beds. Gran Auggie had knots in her back and her spine cracked when she bent over so Neville had to tuck in the sheets under the mattress by himself.

Gran Auggie chose the dark sheets for him. They itched when he slept on them. He wished she would buy pretty white sheets for him, but gran said that if he couldn't keep his shoes clean, why would she buy him anything that wasn't the colour of kneazle turds?

It was a boring day. His sheets were also boring.

Neville was certain that if he were born in the colour of turds, his gran would never be able to see how dirty he had become. Maybe then, she wouldn't be so cross with him. If only there was some way for him to make her proud?

On Monday, Neville was sure that his gran would think of some boring chores for him to do while she went for her walk to Mrs Mabel's house. He lay in his bed in the wee hours of the morning, listening for the chirping crickets to cease their song. Suddenly, gran's heavy hand knocked on his door.

"Get up boy. Dress and come downstairs."

Already? Neville sprang out of bed. He pulled on his socks, pulled up his overalls and found a clean shirt in his hamper.

"Coming gran," he cried from the lavatory, mouth full of bubbling tooth powder.

When he rushed downstairs, his gran took one look at him and her brows pulled into a pretzel. "Where did you find those socks?"

"In my wardrobe," Neville lied.

They're different colours, boy, was what she should have said. Neville prepared to run upstairs to change. Instead, gran continued buttering two scones.

"Pull them up higher."

Neville did.

Where is gran taking me? Neville thought to himself as he ate his scone and drank his tea. Maybe the punishment is worse since she's keeping mum about it.

Gran took her wicker basket, she took her large straw hat as well. She stood on the doorstep, waiting for him to come out. When he did, she charmed the lock shut.

"Come boy," she said, holding out her elbow. Neville took it and sucked in his breath. In a moment, Gran Auggie had stamped her feet and the ground beneath them disappeared. They were Apparating.

-x-

Neville and Gran Auggie landed on the wet grass. He was sure gran would box his ear forgetting his socks wet. He could feel the dampness seeping in.

Gran did not. She took a slow deep breath and a gentle smile crept on her face.

"Are we here?" Neville wanted to whisper but didn't.

He liked gran's smile. He was scared that if he said anything, it would disappear. As she grasped him by the hand and began to walk towards the wood, Neville pretended like that smile was for him.

The sun had risen above the hazy, yellow smoking clouds. Could be rain. Neville pulled his jacket above his ears. As he walked, he landed his footsteps into the pits where gran had stepped. Her imprints were flat, so his socks wouldn't get too damp if he followed her. Besides, he was sure that wherever gran stepped would be free of kneazle turds. Gran was perfect like that.

When they reached the clearing, Neville saw a pretty little cottage surrounded by a fence. Was this where gran went every Monday?

Gran came inside the yard. Neville followed. There were dried vines all around. Crisp leaves swirled about the dry soil. He wanted to hear their crunch but was certain gran would have something to say about it.

As they rounded the corner, Neville's eyes widened. There was greenery everywhere. Neville didn't even think flowers like that could exist. He didn't know what they were called, but he was sure that they had very pretty names like "blue-roselings" and "yellow fluff-mums' '.

Gran set her basket down and took out a pair of gloves. To Neville's surprise, they were covered in dry dust. Did gran work in this garden?

"Come with me," she said.

She led Neville into the house. It looked like someone lived there. Gran didn't knock; she cast a spell and let them in.

On the sofa, there were dozens of embroidered pillows. A metal sponge scrubbed at an old pot in the kitchen sink. On the walls were moving pictures of a family: a mum, a dad and a little girl. The mum picked up the little girl and kissed her on the cheek, over and over again. Neville liked that picture, but it made him a bit sad. He didn't remember if his mum and dad kissed him just like that.

As he watched the picture move, his hand touched his cheek and he made a silent kissing sound with his lips. His cheek was warm, but it was missing the 'something' that made it a real kiss.

"Take these boy," gran said handing him a smaller pair of gloves. They looked old like they had been made many years ago. Neville looked at the moving picture. He decided the gloves would have to be as old as the picture.

"Gran, was this your house?"

Gran nodded. Did these gloves belong to gran? Neville imagined the little girl in the moving picture digging in the soil and getting her knees dirty. He looked at gran's knees, the fabric of her trousers barely wrinkled and not dirty at all.

No. The girl in the picture could not be gran. Neville was sure gran was born looking exactly as she was now. She had never been a messy child, she'd always been perfect.

Silently, they went into the yard. Gran stood above the dry vines and crisp leaves.

"Do you know any uprooting spells?"

Neville did not. Her smile turned into a frown. Neville knew he must have done something wrong again.

"Of course, you don't. Lockhart's advice goes into one ear and comes out the other. Watch."

Gran rolled up her sleeves. Her arms were speckled and brown. This was odd, Neville thought. Gran never spent much time in the sun.

"Eradico," she said, crossing her hands over the soil. Instantly, an old lumpy bunch of stems lifted into the air and turned to powder.

"Wow," Neville said, looking at gran. He'd never seen her so focused on anything but her knitting and Lockhart.

"Your turn. Don't stagger, boy. Lift your hands and repeat after me."

Neville hesitated. Could he? Gran didn't like to wait so he moved quickly. He lifted his hands just like gran and said, "eradico."

At least he thought he did. A whole pile of roots flew out of the ground and began to jump on the ground. Neville looked at the roots. Neville looked at gran and wished he hadn't. Gran's face tightened like a knotted thread in an embroidery piece.

"Finite Incantatem" she chanted, and the roots fell. Gran turned to Neville. "It's erAdico, not eraDIco boy."

Neville earned a quick snap of her fingers across the back of his head. Seeing how clumsy his spell was, he stomped his foot and frowned. "It's no use gran, I'll never do anything right."

"No, you won't boy, not if you give up at first failure. Try again. ErAdico."

Neville rolled up his sleeves like Gran Auggie. This time, it had to work or else he'd get another snap on his poor head.

"Eradico."

This time, the roots sank deeper into the soil. Neville flinched as gran's hands adjusted themselves onto her hips.

"Again!"

Neville felt like he repeated the spell at least a thousand times. Each time, the stubborn roots would either fly against the fence and turn upside down or rip into tiny pieces and assemble themselves all over again. One time, the roots found themselves on the roof of the cottage.

Gran did nothing. At one point, she patted him on the shoulder and simply said, "Enough."

"So, I've done it-"

"No."

Gran Auggie went into the shed. Neville followed. In the shed were lots of small pots of different colours and sizes, bags of soil and labelled packets.

"Seeds!" Neville grabbed a package to look.

Gran took some shovels, a few packets of seeds and some vials. "Come on."

In the messy garden, gran left the items on the ground before her. She waved her hands in the air. She concentrated so hard that her hair stood on the end of her head. At first, nothing happened, but then, all the roots and vines and leaves and other debris flew into the air, swirled around and disappeared into a puff of smoke.

"Wow!" Neville said. He was never going to be as good as gran. Gran was perfect.

"Turn over the soil," gran said, handing him a shovel.

Neville was only good at falling into holes, not digging them. He stuck the shovel into the ground. It was as tall as him (and he was pretty tall for a seven-year-old). Hands on the base, he picked up a bit of dirt, then fell over backwards.

Gran Auggie had her foot on the shovel. She stuck it firmly into the soil and extended her hand. Then she firmly commanded the shovel, "up."

The shovel scooped up a large pile of soil and dumped it nearby.

Neville would try. He stuck the shovel back into his plot of land. He lifted his hand and said in his best Gran-Auggie voice, "up."

Then, he saw stars. Gran Auggie pulled him to his feet. His head hurt terribly. He was sure he had a big fat bruise where the shovel flew up and hit him.

"You'll lose whatever smarts you have, boy, and that's not a lot."

She let him go inside and blot his head with some cold water. He took a damp cloth and placed it over his forehead and returned outside.

Gran already dug up all the soil. It lay in black pillow-like cushioning along the ground. It smelled good, like a warm baked treat in the oven. Neville was tempted to take a bite, even though he knew it would not taste good.

A small pick floated about making tiny holes in the ground. Gran walked alongside the tool and sprinkled seeds inside each hole. She looked so peaceful now, walking along the rows with her sunhat. It made Neville happy.

"Don't stare, boy. Go in and fetch some water." Gran pointed to a watering can.

He went inside, lugging the giant can behind him. It was rusty and metallic. Luckily, gran's kitchen spell picked up the object and held it over the tap. As the water trickled into the can, he held his cloth over the water stream, and then pressed it back on his forehead. It was cold.

He went back to see the portraits in the hallway. He looked at baby gran and her mum and dad. He touched his cheek again, pretending like someone was kissing him, telling him his booboo will go away.

He missed his mum and dad. He didn't remember them very well. At least he still had his gran.

When the can was full, it floated back towards the front door. Neville grabbed the handle and lugged it outside. There, the sun was hotter than before. It must have been around noon.

"Gran!" Neville called out.

He rounded the corner and then dropped the entire can. Gran was lying on the floor and she wasn't moving.

"Gran! Gran!"

He thought only his words and actions could mess things up. He didn't think his thoughts could do it too. Oh, why had he said that he was happy gran was still alive? Neville ran over and slapped his hands on her chest.

She sat up suddenly, eyes open.

"Boy-"

"-gran, oh gran please don't die! I promise I'll practise my spells and keep my shoes clean. I promise I promise!"

"Stop it, Neville," she said softly. But Neville was crying. It was stupid, he didn't know why the tears were falling from his eyes. His gran was alive. Everything was fine.

Gran gently pulled him down to the ground. She held her freckled arm out and wrapped it around him, holding him in a warm cocoon against her breast.

"Gran, I'm sorry. I thought you were- that I was-"

The old woman sighed, patting him on the shoulder. "Neville, you silly boy."

When Neville had calmed a bit and his tears dried up in the afternoon sun, he turned to gran. She was laying there, eyes closed.

"What are you doing?"

Gran hummed. "I'm listening to the garden grow."

"Can you hear that?"

"Quiet."

Neville closed his eyes like gran. He lay his head back. He watched gran's chest move slowly up and down. He heard the cicadas chirp. He felt a low rumble below him. He heard the murmur of the trees in the distance. He did not hear the garden grow.

Perhaps his gran knew a different kind of magic. Gran Auggie magic.

He heard a low rumble too, a rumble coming from his tummy. He realized they hadn't eaten lunch. He wanted to wake up gran and ask her if she packed any biscuits or juice, but didn't. Something told him he shouldn't break the magic.

He watched her watching the garden grow. A smile spread over her face and the wrinkles on her cheeks softened. She was beautiful, even though she was old. Neville decided she was more beautiful than when she was little in that picture in the hall.

They lay like that for some time until gran's belly rumbled. Then, they rose and went into the house to prepare sandwiches and tea. They sat in the garden and listened to the songbirds.

"You did a good job today Neville," gran said, wiping her mouth.

Neville knew she was just saying it because she wanted to cheer him up. "I didn't."

"Next time, we will practise eradico. And you will listen to Lockhart's advice as you read it," she said sternly. "But for a first time gardener, you did well."

"How can you know. You're perfect," Neville said slowly.

Then gran did something she never did. At first, Neville thought she was choking on her sandwich, but then he realized she was laughing. Gran was really laughing.

"When I was your age, I tried to make the roses grow faster. I used a spell I learned from one of my mother's books. And you know what happened boy?"

She put down her cup and fanned her hands into stars. "Poof!"

Neville couldn't imagine Gran Auggie making anything go 'poof!'

"Not true. You're tricking me, gran."

"Tricking? No. I never trick anyone," she said sternly.

Then she took Neville's cup and plate into hers, leaned over and kissed him on the head. It was a long and loud kiss that ended with a 'smooch' sound. Then she smiled at him. It was a big smile and Neville's whole chest grew very hot like a giant potato had cooked inside of it.

She said nothing else, went inside and let the magic sponge wash the dishes.

Neville hugged his arms around his chest, holding his hot, gran-sized potato hug. His gran smiled just for him. All for him. Maybe it was the gran magic.

The next time they came back to the cottage, Neville would practise all of Lockhart's spells. Nevile loved summer. He loved his gran. But most of all, Neville loved gardening.