Hey everyone! Here's the next installment. Special thanks to LittleLionGirl for requesting the word. I figured I'd give this word a definition too, since I needed one to know what it was lol. How many of you had heard of this before now? I know I hadn't! And hands up if you definitely had it as a child!
*Word: Benkinersophobia- the fear of not receiving a Hogwarts letter on your eleventh birthday* This drabble is pre-series. It is about Neville's childhood and his fear of being a muggle. I had to go back and reread bits of the first book to get the facts right for this one. Talk about nostalgia! I hope you enjoy it!
Benkinersophobia. It was a word that every child in the wizarding world knew.
Benkinersophobia: the fear of disappointing your parents.
Benkinersophobia: the fear of being mocked by your friends.
Benkinersophobia: the fear of being alone and useless in a world of magic.
Benkinersophobia: the fear of not receiving a Hogwarts letter on your eleventh birthday.
There was a time when the other children in my wizarding community used to use that word. But not anymore. Now they used a word that had become synonymous with it. My name.
Benkinersophobia: Neville Longbottom.
It was a running joke amongst our group. If someone took an abnormally long time to display magic, you'd hear, "I was afraid he was going to pull a Neville." If someone burst into tears because they were nervous before their eleventh birthday, the whispers would sound, "I heard she had a Neville Longbottom."
I wished with all my heart that I could say it was just a joke- that there was no real base of truth in it. But I couldn't.
My parents are Frank and Alice Longbottom, both aurors who were tortured for information on You-Know-Who's whereabouts. They never gave in. That's the part that most people remember. They were talented and brave and all around incredible people.
But what I remember most clearly is that they went insane. They no longer know who I am. I wonder if they would be disappointed if they could see me now: the son of two of the most famous witches and wizards in the world, who hasn't displayed one iota of magic in the first eight years of his life. Sometimes I ask them. But they never respond.
I've heard the whispers by the other adults in my community. Wondering when, if, I will show magic. Asking how it is possible I could be a squib, given that my parents were so talented. But it is my grandmother, my guardian, who is the most vocal.
She speaks loudly about my lack of magical ability. She asks no one in particular what oh what my son would think of the boy. I know that I'm disappointing her. I know that she's glad that my parents aren't aware of what's happening, that they don't have to bear witness to the shame I'm bringing to the family.
I wish and I wish and I wish that I could do something right, that I could show even the tiniest bit of magic. I stay up every night until the first star comes out, and I wish using the song my Gran says my Mom would sing to me at night.
"Star light, star bright,"
When my Great-Uncle Algie invites me and Gran for a picnic at Blackpool pier, I don't think much of it. I decide it will be nice to get out of the house and get some fresh air, even if it is a bit chilly out. Gran doesn't often like to go outside. But when we arrive and I see that determined look on Great-Uncle Algie's face, I freeze and all the excitement drains out of me. I've seen that look before. It's the look he gets before he's going to do something drastic to try and force magic out of me.
I wait, frozen, my muscles tense. But Great-Uncle Algie just unfolds a blanket and starts unpacking the food.
"Sit down, Neville, why are you standing there like a great buffoon?"
I start at Gran's voice and take my seat next to her. I'm not sure why I need to be there, though, because the conversation is between Great-Uncle Algie and Gran and I am clearly not being invited to join in. I stuff myself with all sorts of pastries, knowing that only too soon I will be back at home eating Gran's healthy snacks to help you grow strong like your father. I try to tune out their conversation, but it quickly turns to a topic I'm far too used to.
"I'm just saying, Augusta, maybe if you pushed the boy a little harder he'd finally show some of his magical talent. You're being too soft."
"Excuse me, Algie, but I raised Frank did I not? And was he not one of the most brilliant wizards of all time?"
"Well, something's clearly gone wrong with this one. Maybe you're just losing your touch in your old age."
"Perhaps it is not my fault, but the boy's! You cannot force talent out if there is no talent there in the first place!"
The custard cream seems to be stuck in my throat and I blink back tears. I just want to make them proud.
Great-Uncle Algie scoffs. "With parents like his? There has to be talent, Augusta. You said it yourself, Frank was one of the most brilliant wizards of all time! And darling Alice was right there with him!"
"Oh sure, you can criticize all day long, but you'd have no more luck with it than me. What would you have me do?"
I'm pretty sure the question was rhetorical, but Great-Uncle Algie answers anyways. He scoops me up by the back of my collar and I spit the custard cream on the blanket in shock. And then the next thing I know I'm underwater.
The pier, I think, he threw me in the pier!
My instinct is to fight, and initially I struggle against the current pulling at me, trying to surface, but then I force myself to calm down. Great-Uncle Algie's not trying to kill me, he just wants me to do some magic. So I screw up my eyes against the water and struggle not to breathe as I wait. The current tugs at my limbs, pulling me in all directions. My clothes are soaked and weighing me down. Slowly I'm sinking, being pulled farther and farther away from shore. My lungs are burning and every cell in my body is screaming at me to fight, that I need oxygen. Still, I wait. But nothing happens.
The next thing I know, I have drawn in a breath against my will and my lungs are burning worse than ever. I'm choking and my limbs are flailing, but I can't fight the current and I keep going deeper and deeper. My vision starts to darken and I look up to the surface, to the air I so desperately need. From this point of view, the sky looks dark and the sun looks like a tiny star, far in the distance. I see a hand reach for me, but I don't register what that means. My mind is on auto-pilot and I'm seeing a star, so my thoughts form the familiar words as I cast the same wish I always do.
"The first star I see tonight;"
Gran pulled me out of the pier that day and got me breathing again alright. She smacked Great-Uncle Algie on top of the head with her handbag for nearly drowning me, but she did seem to appreciate the sentiment behind my near death experience. I didn't see Great-Uncle Algie for another couple of months after that. Perhaps he was embarrassed by nearly killing his great-nephew. More likely he just felt I'd earned a break from his attempts to make me do magic.
And I was left with Gran's musings about the shame of having a Muggle grandson.
Eventually, Great-Uncle Algie came round for tea at a small family get-together. His break from attacking me only seemed to have made him more determined. The next thing I knew, I was hanging outside Gran's bedroom window by my ankles.
The fear stuck me hard and tears poured off my face. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be safely on the ground again. But instead I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I knew this would never stop, I could never make my family proud, unless I managed to do some magic. And even if I didn't like it, Great-Uncle Algie's methods were the best way to do that. So I dug deep inside of me and searched for any bit of magic the fear might have unearthed.
I searched and I searched for any spark, any sizzle.
I imagined the magic flowing through my veins.
I tried to feel everything, to embrace my fear.
But nothing happened.
The tears began to pour faster and I scrunched my eyes up so tight that I began to see stars. And, through my misery, I couldn't help but cast a last, desperate wish on them.
"I wish I may, I wish I might,"
That was when I heard my Great-Auntie Enid offering Great-Uncle Algie a meringue. He'd always had a sweet tooth. And suddenly, there was nothing holding me up.
The wind whistled past me and there was a swooping feeling in my stomach as I fell. I heard my Great-Auntie Enid scream. And I stopped trying to make the magic happen. I stopped trying to be someone I wasn't. If this was my final moment, I wanted to be proud of who I was. I wanted to believe my parents would be proud of me.
I hit the Earth… and didn't die. I was back in the air again, and then against the ground, and then back in the air. And then I realized I was bouncing. My eyes flew open and I wondered if my Great-Aunt or Uncle had managed to cast a spell while I was falling. But no, I knew, just knew, that this was my own magic.
Pride and excitement swelled within me and I was happier than I could ever remember being.
I had done it. I had made them proud. Finally, all my wishes had come true.
But there was a tiny part of me that was whispering a small postscript in the back of my mind. That part wished that I could've found a way, some way, to make them proud without the magic.
"Have the wish I wish tonight."
AN: Well, I hope you liked it! I'm not entirely sure how I felt about it. I liked the idea but I'm not sure I got Neville's emotions right. He's definitely a complicated character to write. But live and learn, right? Maybe next time I write his POV it'll be easier. Please leave a review and let me know what you thought! And if you have any word requests, I'd love to take them! I have two more to write first, but any more I get will all be added to the list! Thanks for reading :D