This is my attempt at a 'Badass Neville' story. It started out well, trying to show how pudgy doormat Neville became the guy who killed the last Horcrux. It was going to be a sort of 'megacrossover' with Neville's advancements happening while he stood in for various heroes in various other stories.
I had in mind a 'Naruto' crossover where Nev will stand in for Rock Lee in the Lee/Garra fight which he ends by using a 'glassmaker' spell to remove Garra's Sand from the equation, but I haven't managed to write a word on this story for years.
Anyway, available for adoption if anyone wants it:
The Labors of Neville Longbottom.
The woman looked up from her paperwork and a smile formed on her lips.
"Loki, good of you to come."
The man entering the office raised an eyebrow. "Hello Skuld, I'm surprised to find you alone. I don't think I've ever seen you without your sisters."
"This is a one Norn job," the ageless woman admitted. "But, as it turns out, I need your help."
"My help?" Loki Odinson asked slumping into the chair in front of the desk. "Since when do I help anyone?"
"It isn't a request," a new voice rumbled in the room. "You are going to help Loki, because I would be somewhat annoyed if you didn't."
A bit of terror formed in pit of the Asgardian's stomach when he recognized the speaker, a Being as far above him as he was above the mortals of Midgard. Loki rose to his feet. "My apologies, I had no idea you were here."
"Sit down you idiot," the Being said. "What's with the helmet? Since when do you wear horns?"
"It's just an affectation," Loki admitted. "The mortals of Midgard have a work of graphical fiction dedicated to my adopted brother, and this is how they portray me. They get almost everything wrong, but I started wearing this because it annoys Thor so."
"I see," the Being said with a nod. "Skuld, explain what you need from Loki."
"Well, you see," Skuld said in a hesitant tone, "I decided to strike out on my own, so I asked for a reassignment to the general fate department."
"General fate?" Loki asked, confused.
"We Nornir have always specialized in the fates of Asgardians and our followers, which was great when our Vikings were roaming the seas, pillaging and waging wars, but the work load has really fallen off recently."
"So out of boredom, you struck out on your own," Loki suggested.
"Well, yeah," Skuld nodded. "Urd and Verandi are always going on about tradition and honor and whatnot, so they're pissed at me, but I needed something to do, you know?"
"So, what did you do?"
I was assigned a group of magical mortals to plot out, a big human scale adventure with a hero and a pair of sidekicks and assorted villains and extras. So I was working through the plot and decided to add a secondary hero, I mean since the kid almost became the hero himself only to lose out to the main villain's last minute choice, I gave him a couple heroic scenes."
Loki sighed. Heroes were always trouble, and wannabe heroes were even worse.
"And this has become my problem why?"
"Well," the woman blushed, let me show you his ultimate act of heroism…"
A battle scene shimmered into existence over the desk. Loki watched with a detached interest as the mortal who was the obvious villain carried on with his monolog standing next to a youth, apparently the young secondary hero, who was struggling under some sort of paralysis.
"I see most of the crowd dressed in the robes of European wand wizards," Loki commented as the playback froze. "What is that the kid's wearing?"
"That?" Skuld asked. "Oh, that's the Traditional Longbottom Battle Cardigan. Passed down in his family for centuries." She started searching through the mass of papers on her desk, "I've got a wonderful backstory for it here somewhere, the cardigan is instrumental to his surviving what comes next."
The play back resumed as the villain produced an old floppy hat, and set it afire before setting the flaming hat on the boy's head, setting the boy's body on fire.
In a fluid motions, the young man broke free of whatever paralytic spell that was upon him; pulling the flaming hat from his head and he drew from its depths something silver, with a glittering, rubied handle…
The display of the battle was silent, so the slash of the silver blade could not be heard. Nor any of the sounds that should have been heard from the oncoming crowds of magic users, or the sounds of the clashing giants, or of the stampeding centaurs, and yet, Loki could not pull his eyes away from the sweep of the blade through the air. With a single stroke, the young hero sliced off the giant snake's head, which spun high into the air, gleaming in the light flooding from the castle, and the villain's mouth was open in a silent scream of fury that went unheard as the snake's body thudded to the ground at his feet.
-oooOOOooo-
"Well," Loki said after a few moments of silence. "The whelp certainly has the hero thing down."
"Yep," Skuld agreed. "Can I write, or can I write?"
"So, what's the problem?" Loki asked. "What do you need me for?"
"It seems that our author has written herself into a corner," the Supreme Being said sarcastically. "She has the beginning and the ending, but no way to connect the two."
"What?" Loki asked, clearly not understanding.
"This is young Neville's first important scene in the story," Skuld said as she caused a new image to shimmer into place over her desk.
"Neville?" Loki asked.
"Yes, Neville Longbottom," she agreed.
"Well, Loki grumped as the scene started, "with a name like that, he's got some Norse blood in him anyway."
Loki focused on the image, taking in the three boys and one young girl.
-oooOOOooo-
"You don't understand," said the dark haired boy was saying, "this is important."
However, the pudgy boy, presumably 'Neville' was clearly steeling himself to do something desperate.
"I won't let you do it," he said, hurrying to stand in front of the doorway, raising his fists in a pale imitation of a boxer's pose. "I'll… I'll fight you!"
"Neville," the redhead exploded, "get away from that hole and don't be an idiot…"
"Don't you call me an idiot!" said Neville. "I don't think you should be breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to people!"
"Yeah, but not to us" the redhead said in exasperation. "Neville, you don't know what you're doing."
He took a step forward and Neville dropped a toad, who leapt out of sight. "Go on then, try and hit me!" said Neville, raising his fists higher. "I'm ready!"
The dark haired boy turned to the girl.
"Do something," he said desperately.
The girl stepped forward. "Neville," she said, raising her wand. "I'm really, really sorry about this."
"Petrificus Totalus!" she cried.
Neville's arms snapped to his sides. His legs sprang together. His whole body rigid, he swayed where he stood and then fell flat on his face, stiff as a board.
Hermione ran to turn him over. Neville's jaws were jammed together so he could not speak. Only his eyes were moving, looking at them in horror.
"What've you done to him?" the dark haired boy whispered.
"It's the full Body-Bind," she explained miserably. "Oh, Neville, I'm so sorry."
"We had to, Neville, no time to explain," the dark haired boy said apologetically.
"You'll understand later, Neville," the redhead agreed as they stepped over him and the trio crowded under an invisibility cloak.
-oooOOOooo-
"That was your hero?" Loki asked incredulously.
"There is a certain bravery in standing up to your friends," the Being pointed out.
"I'll have to take your word for it," Loki laughed. "Never had the knack for making friends myself. So, what am I supposed to do."
"I'm going to be busy concentrating on getting the main hero ready for his destiny," Skuld explained. "When I upgraded Neville, I never put any thought into how he was to be ready for his shining moment."
"You will be guiding young Neville from his current state to the dashing hero the story needs him to be." The Being said.
"All right," Loki sighed. "How long do I have?"
"A bit more than 6 years."
"You're joking," Loki asked hopefully. "From baby fat and people walking over him to giant snake slaying hero in just six years? It can't be done."
"It will be done," the Being said quietly.
"Fine," Loki sighed. "I'll haul the brat off to Jotunheim for a few years, that ought to make a hero out of him."
"No," Skuld disagreed. "Neville is important to the plot. He can't leave."
"I'm afraid I agree," the Being nodded. "The boy must remain with those of his kind, but you can still train him Loki, you can have his dreams."
"So, I've got six years of dreams to completely change this boy?"
"You do," the Being agreed. "Six years, his dreams, and the limits of the multiverse. A fitting challenge for the Trickster God, no?"
"You already know what I'm going to do don't you?" Loki asked.
"Of course I do, and remember Loki Odinson, I am not your adopted father, nor am I your idiot brother. Don't even think about fucking with me. Just do your job. You might actually enjoy it."
-oooOOOooo-
The Dreamscape was as without form as he remembered it. Loki sighed quietly as he looked down at the youngling he was tasked with molding into a hero. The boy's dream-self lay curled into a ball on the featureless plain.
The boy's dreams had yet to start, so there was nothing to do but wait. The Trickster bided his time while waiting by playing with his seax, flipping the blade between the fingers of his left hand while trying to think of an appropriate way to introduce the boy to his destiny.
"What are you doing in this domain, Asgardian?"
Loki turned his gaze to the speaker, "What business might it be of yours, Phobetor? Loki goes where he will."
The Nightmare god rose to his full height, seeking, no doubt, to intimidate. Loki who ruled Ice Giants was unimpressed.
"The boy is mine," Phobetor thundered. "He has been mine since he watched his parents tortured into insanity, since he felt the pain magic of the mortal magicians. I own his nights, and once I break his mind, I will own his days as well."
"Nay," Loki said lazily. "Your ownership is voided from upon high. He is now mine. You will need to find yourself a new playtoy."
"You dare?" Phobetor shrieked, "you dare to claim dominion here?"
"I dare much," Loki admitted as he drove his seax into the stomach of the lessor god, the blade sliding in to the hilt, where, just because he could, Loki gave it a twist before pulling it out.
"You stabbed me," the Terror of the Night gasped as he fell to his knees.
"As usual, your grasp of the obvious is beyond reproach," Loki snarked as he wiped his blade on the lessor god's cloak. "You are out of your depth here Phobetor, go away, or I will not be so merciful next time."
Phobetor regained his feet and stumbled away, "I will have my revenge!" He swore from what he imagined was a safe distance.
"That fool has absolutely no style," Loki sighed as he turned his attention back to the boy, only to be surprised to find himself looking into a pair of very wide eyes.
"You beat the monster!" the boy said, almost reverently. "He always said that no one could save me, but you did."
Loki's breath caught in his throat. It had been so long since the last of his cult had died, that he had forgotten the rush of being worshiped. This was NOT part of his plan.
-oooOOOooo-
"So, you're going to make me stronger?"
Loki hesitated before answering. What was the best way to respond? "You are the descendant of Norsemen," he said, "You are strong, you just need to understand your strength."