Chapter summary:
The aftermath of the boggart incident through Neville's eyes.
Word count:
About 4400.
Author's note:
Part of me wants to apologize for this rather huge delay and promise that I will do better but that part is the problem in all of it. That part of me that keeps stressing that I hadn't written anything for this story in months, that cannot move forward even though I want to and I love this story, I want to finish it and not just this part but all of it. I will finish it. That's a promise to myself and to you. It's just, last year hadn't really been easy on me and my family and while our issues cannot simply compare to that of other people… It's real, it's ours and today to a certain extent marks the end of a certain era because a huge, majorly emotional and psychological but also to some of us a physical burden had disappeared. Dealing with it all hadn't exactly made me a happy writer and my side-trip into inspiration in other fandoms had produced a basis for an angstfest to end all angstfests (not in HP fandom) because why the hell not.
So here's to hopefully not too long wait… Maybe once I will get that angstfest out of my bloodstream and hopefully before the summer… Happy St Patrick's Day.
As usual I dedicate this story to all of you, my readers, for sticking with me for so long in spite of my shortcomings.
Your comments and kudos are and always will be welcome here because they're my motivation.
Secrets & Keepers –Contentions
Chapter seventeen: The Trial of Neville Longbottom
Neville Longbottom, Friday, September 1993, Hogwarts.
The story of his boggart, much like Harry's fainting spell was all over the Gryffindor before dinner finished and by breakfast it made its way to the Slytherins.
"It was nice knowing you," said Nott as he stopped by him and Daphne on his way to breakfast. "You were pants at Potions but aside of that you were all right," he added.
"How much trouble am I in?" sighed Neville.
"He gave fifth years a test on what they learned last year even though they were supposed to start brewing yesterday. Then he put loitering gobstones players in a detention with Filch for having an unsanctioned club meeting. He also yelled at sixth year prefects, a couple that if he will catch them snogging in public places he would switch their patrolling duties with Hufflepuffs," answered Nott.
"So it's bad," mumbled Neville.
"Like I said, it was nice knowing you," said Nott simply. "I will send a nice bouquet to your funeral," he added as he walked away.
"Don't worry," said Daphne gently. "He can't do anything to you, I mean anything too drastic. He's not going to murder you. He'll most likely be his usual charming," she paused to snort, "self, but worse."
"And I can't even tell the difference between worse and better," said Neville self-depreciatingly. "At least we only have him twice a week so there's a comfort in that."
"That's a good spirit," she smiled at him. "You will be fine, Neville."
"Provided that you will move to Timbuktu," said Malfoy as he passed by them.
"Shut up, hippogriff doormat, no one asked for your opinion," Daphne scoffed.
"Leave it, he can't help but offer it anyway," Neville replied. "And it was a nice one, reckon that we can get other students to call him that."
"We can certainly try," she offered.
Secrets & Keepers – Contentions
His mood perked up slightly at breakfast as he listened to Harry and Hermione having a very heated debate with Lavender on how pointless subject Divination happened to be. Harry made his opinion on the subject clear from the first lesson and continued to refer to Professor Trelawney as a stoned out hippie that thrived on people's fears.
Neville privately agreed and the only reason why he hadn't removed himself from that class was because Gran quite insistently lobbied for it. Gran also turned out to be fine in spite of Professor Trelawney's prediction to the contrary. She did have a very mild attack of arthritis on Monday morning thanks to the sudden storm that passed through the neighbourhood. It passed as quickly as it came and come afternoon she was right as rain and headed out to visit one of her old school friends.
Next to him Hermione called Trelawney a life-sized boggart which made Lavender storm away.
"I don't think that she could rock that hat as well as Snape had," said Harry before he snickered into his tea.
"Snape could wear Dumbledore's robes and still look terrifying in them," Neville offered.
"Or the actual drag," supplied Hermione before she laughed into her toast. "Low-necked dress, boa feathers, high-heels, some flashy feathered head adornment, pearls," she counted out. "A smidge of makeup."
At high-heels Harry started to snicker so hard that he had to put his cup down and by the time Hermione reached makeup he was laughing so hard that he had trouble breathing.
"Don't let the twins hear you or you will find your wish granted," offered Neville.
Not that he would have minded having something to really laugh about like Harry had and twins' prank on Snape would have pulled Snape's attention away from him for a very long time.
He chanced a quick look at Snape, who luckily was glowering at Slytherin table and wasn't looking his way.
Who knew maybe he could sell Fred and George that vision.
Or maybe not, Snape would without doubt realise that he was the instigator of that prank.
He almost didn't notice an owl that landed itself in front of him until it pecked at his finger. He frowned at it. Who could possibly write to him on Friday? Outside of extraordinary owl pelting that occurred in his first year and last spring when he couldn't decide on his electives his relatives usually wrote letters to him on Monday, Tuesday at the least. Often they relied how their week had passed and asked about his.
No one had wrote him on Friday. All of his friends, well people he was friendly with were right here and didn't need to write him. Childhood friends he didn't have, in spite of Gran's best efforts to make him befriend Ernie MacMillan or the Abbots.
Ernie was too pompous, not that he did so intentionally. There was a brief time many years ago when he used to be an all right kid but since he had been told that he was being groomed into the position of the eventual head of the MacMillan family he became both a bit too full of himself and a nervous wreck believing that he wouldn't be good enough.
The Abbots were the exact opposite. All girls, all younger than him, except Hannah, who was the same age, all quiet and required dragging stuff out of them to hold a semi-decent conversation over anything, weather included.
And then there was matchmaking. Not that Gran would have signed any betrothal agreement in his stead, even if she wanted to Grandpa's last will and testament prevented her from doing so. But it was never too early to start looking for a proper and respectable match. Especially since the Abbots wouldn't really mind giving away their squib daughter to equally magicless Neville.
The arrival of his Hogwarts letter caused all of the visits to cease and Neville happily accepted that. And for the girl's sake he hoped that she was just like him and would get to live her life however she pleased.
The owl pecked his finger a little more insistently and he shook his head. Well, he wasn't going to find out who wrote him without opening the letter.
He was surprised and quite pleased that the note was from Professor Lupin who invited him to tea right after his classes would end. He smiled at it. He liked Lupin. He was the first teacher who didn't look down on him or acted surprised when Neville finally managed to succeed on accomplishing a spell. But surprise wasn't the worst, it was those pitiful glances and assurances that he tried his best. He was sincerely becoming fed up with that.
No one looked down on Harry and assured him that he tried his best. He either did his best or he did not and no one treated him like some delicate specimen under magnifying glass.
Well, he was under magnifying glass, thanks to being the Boy-Who-Lived but he was treated like any other student and expected to behave and perform just like any other student. He got chided by McGonagall for slacking on his homework, got politely told off by Flitwick that the way he was holding his elbow was obstructing the movements of his wand.
And he was getting better. That much even Neville could tell in spite of only having a couple of days of the classes. Harry was on the top of his homework, mostly already done with it when Hermione was starting on hers. Which was understandable considering how many classes she had. And instead of slacking off afterwards he either was reading ahead or helping Neville with his.
He looked different, not only thanks to the new haircut which suited him better than the unruly nest from last year and the year before that. He grew up slightly, but so did the rest of them, Ron probably the most of all. But something also changed in his posture too, he stood a little higher, a little straighter, hardly ever slouched unless he was sitting down in the common room.
He no longer shrugged off comments he would have shrugged off last year, especially from Ron. He didn't seek him out like he usually did or looked out where Ron was. It also appeared that he was planning to hold Ron accountable for every stupid comment Ron made. Those about Hermione as well as those about Harry.
That Harry's behaviour was unnerving Ron Neville knew because Ron complained how Harry had changed over the summer to Seamus and Dean who in turn complained about Ron's complaints to Neville. And in so far, Ron, instead of realising that he had done something wrong, something for which he should apologise decided to wait Harry out.
Neville had very little doubts over who was going to win that battle of wills. Both were stubborn like hippogriff stallions during the breeding season. Both were convinced that they were right but only one of them actually was.
That Ron had troubles accepting that there was nothing wrong with girls kissing other girls like they were supposed to kiss boys wasn't really surprising. In spite of a relatively close relation, Neville hadn't seen the Weasleys outside of school, which perplexed him enough to ask Aunt Enid about it. And Aunt Enid delivered, she loved gossiping just as much as she loved taking well-aimed digs at people she believed had them coming. The Prewetts, particularly the Weasleys Prewett grandmother certainly had it coming for making a huge scene at Aunt Adelaide's hand fasting because Aunt Adelaide instead of exchanging vows and rings with a man had chosen to do so with her dear friend Charlotte. Her daughter, the Weasleys' mother, was just as loud in her protests as her mother had been and both and their descendants were banned from ever crossing the premises of the Longbottom manor. Curiously enough not by Great-grandfather Harfang but by Great-grandmother Callidora.
Out of all young Weasleys that Neville knew Ginny was the only one who didn't give a fig about it. With the same enthusiasm and level of curiosity she kissed Neville, claimed also to kiss Harry (which he later confirmed), kissed Hermione, Seamus at some point and last time Neville heard something about it she also got caught kissing her Ravenclaw classmate, Luna, by her oldest brother of all people. Percy most likely complained to their mother about it because next morning Ginny received a howler which she promptly asked Seamus to set on fire before it burst.
The reactions of her brothers varied. The twins appeared to be conflicted whatever or not they should support her rebellious streak or frown at the mentions of how hot her kissing a girl was (something at which Seamus excelled, he also had taken upon himself to point out some girls to Ginny). Percy bristled every time he caught Ginny looking at anyone for too long. Ron got himself nastily hexed for every attempt to chastise her. And Neville had a feeling that if they won't bugger off from putting their noses in her business Ginny might stop holding herself back and will start hexing all of her brothers equally.
He only wished to be there when that would happen because Ginny was frighteningly accurate with picking opportune moments for hexing Ron with that bat out of the nose thing. She even tried to teach Neville how to do that but in so far he only managed to make his targets (an eagerly volunteering Colin Creevey as well as blissfully unaware Ron) sneeze violently.
Secrets & Keepers – Contentions
He set off in the direction of Lupin's office right after Transfiguration in a quite contemplative mood caused by Professor McGonagall's announcement that they had until the end of September to decide on which electives they wished to continue or switch to. She also asked them if anyone wished to make a choice now and urged them to make changes sooner rather than later.
McGonagall was very surprised by Hermione's proclamation that after careful consideration she decided to drop Divination and Muggle Studies and remain with Ancient Runes, Arithmancy and Care of the Magical Creatures.
No one else indicated a desire to switch. In fact Ron looked downright scandalised when Hermione said that. It was quite likely that he realised that with no Harry or Hermione in the class no one was going to help him with Divination homework.
Neville didn't really consider changing his electives but he couldn't deny that the idea had some appeal. Especially not having to deal with Professor Trelawney, who with no Harry in the class was bound to find another target for her death predictions. That it was going to be him he could feel in his bones and he didn't need a bunch of soggy tea leaves to tell him that.
Why Gran didn't insist on Ancient Runes or at the very least Muggle Studies? She was going to hate it if he switched now. She would surely tell him that the Longbottoms take their time with making a decision but they do not back down, especially if they're Gryffindors.
He shook off his head before he knocked on the ajar door to Lupin's classroom. He found it empty and the door at the far end of the classroom open.
"Come on in, Neville," Lupin called out to him.
Neville crossed the class and climbed up the couple of stairs that led to Lupin's office. When he crossed the door Lupin was writing something furiously on a piece of parchment.
"Sit down," Lupin said without raising his eyes from the parchment. "There's something that I would like to discuss with you."
No sooner than he said that the door behind Neville slammed shut and he immediately could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He knew that slam and he didn't have to turn around to check who had closed the door.
He breathed out shakily and breathed in slowly before he whispered, "Good afternoon, Professor Snape."
"Hypervigilant awareness of the surroundings," said Snape slowly. "Fascinating."
"Severus," said Lupin as he looked up from the stuff on his desk.
"I was merely planning to remark how extremely unusual it is to manifest in other people than trained Aurors," replied Snape as he went past Neville towards Lupin's desk. "Sit down, Mr Longbottom."
"Have you looked into a mirror recently," Lupin remarked as he gathered the stack of parchment and dropped it into one of the drawers. "But do sit down, Neville," he repeated the invitation to sit down as he gestured at the chair in front of his desk and Neville obediently sank into it. "Professor Snape and I wish to discuss something with you."
Neville didn't groan, he didn't dare to. But he knew what was coming and he knew that there was no escape from Snape's wrath. He might minimise it if he would apologise for the boggart but he doubted that it would work.
Well, in for a bean, in for a beanstalk, he told himself.
"I'm terribly sorry, Professor Snape," he said, trying his best not to mumble it out because Snape hated mumbling more than he hated blatant and open disrespect.
Snape snorted softly under his breath, crossed his arms and leaned against Professor Lupin's bookcase before he said, "Let's not discuss this travesty, Mr Longbottom. You're thirteen years old and no one of that age is capable of manipulating the shape of their boggart prior to the boggarts appearance. Even some adults have problems with that," he paused briefly and grimaced. "I admit that I was furious when I heard about your boggart but after some careful consideration I decided to place the blame for this travesty where it belongs," he added as he glanced at Lupin.
"Do you want to oversee their midterm exam and do better?" offered Lupin. "I still haven't decided if I will make it theoretical or practical."
"Don't I have enough to do with my own students?" replied Snape. "Speaking of which," he said as he looked at Neville. "Professor Lupin here," he gestured with his right hand at Lupin, "like a never dimming ray of sunshine and optimism he is," he added condescendingly, "believes that he might help you overcome your general ineptitude."
"I didn't say that," Lupin objected with a sigh.
"It was strongly implied," retorted Snape. "And you invited me to participate in this endeavour."
Lupin looked at Snape with narrowed eyes before he said, sounding calmer than he looked, "Why don't we get on with it."
Snape shrugged and waved his hand at Lupin.
"Neville," said Lupin as he turned to him. "I invited you here because after listening to your other teachers and witnessing your performance myself I realised that you seem to struggle a lot in all your subjects, particularly with everything involving spell-casting."
Neville exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. So it was going to one of those talks.
"I would like to apologise to you for performing the tests on you without your permission," Lupin continued. "But I wanted to check how you were performing when you were unaware of the supervision."
"Poorly?" Neville sighed as he opened his eyes and looked at Lupin, he was a bloody Gryffindor he could take the critique with his eyes open.
"Strangely enough not as poorly as I was led to believe," replied Lupin as he leaned against the back of his chair. "You aren't barely a threshold away from a squib if that's what you're worrying about," he offered with a small, quick smile. "You're no more or less powerful than your classmates and comparatively you're in top ten of the most powerful students from your year. Not that the difference between the rest of you is vast, it's minimal, but still it's a very good thing."
"However," Snape cut in, "there's no denying that you're performing poorly in all your practical classes. You're the last of your class to master spells if you're capable of mastering them at all," he added sourly. "Professor Lupin thinks that he's able to identify the cause. That's one of the reasons why I'm here."
And the other? Neville wondered to himself.
"And the other," said Snape as if he was reading Neville's mind, "is that Professor Lupin owes me something I'm eager to collect."
Lupin grimaced slightly when Neville glanced at him.
"What do I need to do?" asked Neville, finding himself strangely nervous.
Not that this entire experience hadn't been nerve-wrecking already. Particularly Snape acting almost civil, by his standards, towards him.
"Let us see your wand," asked Lupin.
Neville frowned at that but he fished his wand out of his pocket and passed it to Lupin. The man examined it carefully, twirling it between his fingers and balancing it on his forefinger before he passed it to Snape.
Snape repeated the same movements before he grasped it by the handle and asked as he looked at Neville, "May I?"
Neville wouldn't dare to oppose him even if he hadn't asked and he nodded quickly. Even though it was his dad's wand and Gran would be furious if something bad happened to it.
"Lupin, if you could," said Snape as he waved the wand at him.
Lupin stood up from his chair and stepped away towards the window, out of Snape's path. Meanwhile Snape pointed Neville's wand at the wardrobe on the opposite side of the room to him. He didn't say a single word but the wardrobe gave two distinct clicks, opening and locking in rapid succession. Then it shrunk to the size of a peanut only to grow back to its size and then way ahead to the ceiling. Then it shrunk to its earlier size, completely changed colour and shape and started to cuckoo at them before it changed into a sheep that bleated at them before it changed back into a wardrobe.
"It's a fine wand," said Snape slowly. "Very versatile, more susceptible to Transfiguration than Charms but not very fractious with casting them either. Lupin?" he asked, "if you could."
Lupin stepped into Snape's path with his own wand at the ready. Snape didn't give him a moment of warning before he cast a first hex which Lupin countered swiftly. What followed for next three minutes was a flurry of hexes flying both ways, interrupted by occasional shield, one of which Snape threw Neville's way when Lupin's hex rebound from his own shield and headed Neville's way.
Neville observed it with a steadily dropping jaw and a sinking feeling that he would never be able to get out of his wand, his father's wand, the same level of compliance that Snape had in roughly a couple of minutes. Snape was better with his dad's wand than he was and Snape was no one to him.
He hung his head and looked at his shoes. This presentation more than anything ever before showed him that he would never be able to match his father and not only to make Gran proud.
"It's not your wand, Mr Longbottom," said Snape calmly.
Neville raised his head and opened his mouth to protest.
"Allow me to paraphrase that," continued Snape, not allowing him to protest. "When I say it isn't your wand I don't mean that it doesn't belong to you or have a right to belong to you. What I mean is that it isn't a wand that has been tuned to your magical core."
"It was my dad's, sir," Neville replied.
"And that's most likely where the problem lies," said Lupin gently. "The core is dragon's heartstring, am I right?" he asked and Neville nodded. "Dragon's heartstrings wands are far more common than phoenix's feathers ones but can be just as capricious."
"They also require a strong-willed wizard to wield them," said Snape pensively. Someone you're not, miraculously he hadn't said. "But just to be in the clear," he added as he returned the wand to Neville. "Open the box, levitate out what's inside and transform what's inside into a pincushion."
As he was saying that a small box appeared on the top of the desk. Neville quickly looked at Lupin who nodded.
He could do it, mastering Alohamora had taken him longer than the others and he set a handful of feathers on fire before he managed to make one of them more than twitch. That he could do. Transfiguration would be harder, he was never particularly good at it but eventually his pincushions weren't moving.
He took a deep breath and pointed his wand at the box. Getting the locking mechanism to emit a click had taken him longer than it took him to open locked door but eventually it yielded to his command and the lid sprung open. Inside it was a small mouse, luckily for him it looked sluggish and he hit it with Wingardium Leviosa on the first try. It rose out of the box for a couple of inches but the higher he wanted to move it the more he struggled with pushing his magic into the wand. So he returned it into the box and started to transfigure it. Giving it shape of a pincushion took an extraordinary level of concentration, as did forcing it into losing the tail and the texture of the pincushion even started to resemble velvet rather than fur. By the time he ensured that the pincushion was no longer moving he felt extraordinary exhausted.
Which was exactly when he was hit with a stinging hex and he yelped.
"Start over," Snape muttered. "This time with this wand," he added as he extended his hand with his own wand with its handle turned towards Neville.
Neville gulped.
"If you will set it on fire you will be paying for it," Snape added sourly as he closed the lid.
Neville gulped again but gingerly took the offered wand.
It felt strange, thrumming with its own magic, powerful even. And Snape was a powerful and capable wizard, to that much Neville could attest after watching the man wipe the floor with Lockhart last year.
This was probably going to be a disaster, he thought to himself as he pointed the wand at the box. Strangely the locking mechanism seemed to give into the magic he pushed into the wand more easily than it had with his own wand. Hitting the mouse with levitating charm had taken him two tries but only because it shifted suddenly when he cast the first spell. It raised easily in the air, about a foot higher before he started to feel the strain and he even managed to get it another foot into the air before he started to feel exhausted enough to return it to the box.
Transfiguration too seemed easier with Snape's wand than it was with his own. It certainly was less staged and more fluid even though he couldn't give it a different colour.
This time not only he knew that the hex was coming at him as soon as it looked as if he was done with the mice but he also managed to mumble an incantation for a shield. He felt the magic erupt from the wand but the spell pushed through it like a knife through a warm butter. It stung a little less though.
"Better," Snape muttered. "Lupin."
This time Lupin offered his wand as soon as Neville returned Snape's wand to the man.
Like with Snape's wand Neville could feel Lupin's magic in the man's wand. And much like Snape's it felt powerful but a little different, a little warmer, less constrained, welcoming even.
This time the locking mechanism of the box gave into Neville's magic with ease. He hit the mice on the first try even though it tried to shift away but the wand seemed to sense the movement before it happened and his hand shifted on its own volition to correct his aim. Levitating charm slipped off with ease and he found himself completely in control of the spell with no exhaustion whatsoever, allowing himself even a daring loop before returning the mice into the box. This time Transfiguration was even more fluid, smoothly turning the mice into a pincushion, eagerly giving into bright yellow colour even with leafy trim he imagined.
He was so gleeful at the success that he almost forgot about the hex until he felt a shift in the air. But the shield rolled out of his tongue as fast as it erupted from the wand and held, making the spell ricochet back at Snape, who repelled it with ease and send it towards the wall.
Both Professors looked at each other before they looked at Neville.
"Lupin, summon Minerva," said Snape finally. "She has a long overdue presentation to attend."
TBC