DISCLAIMER: Based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling
The Neville Trilogy thunders towards its cataclysmic conclusion at breakneck pace
NEVILLE FALSUS
chapter three
not a matter of life and death, but more important
It was that time of year again. The last Quidditch game of the season was fast approaching. As had been the Hogwarts tradition since it had first began, this would be between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. As usual, any team could still win the cup depending on the outcome, except for Hufflepuff who had only scored one goal in the entire season, and that had been an accident when Ron had taken a Bludger to face and Gryffindor had played for four hours without a Keeper before one of the Hufflepuffs got the Quaffle in when he horribly lost control of his broom and flew straight through the hoop and into the crowd, where three Hufflepuff's lost their life, including the poor Hufflepuff Chaser. Rumour had it that the Hufflepuff's had built a statue in his honour in their Common Room, but disaster had struck when no one could remember the poor bugger's name.
As Neville was Quidditch Captain, everyone was looking to him to win the match by the required nine hundred points to claim the cup. It seemed like every year the margin they had to beat in the last match just kept going up. He felt a little sorry for the unlucky soul who would have to succeed him. Then he remembered to feel a little sorry for himself, as nine hundred points seemed very unlikely given his team's current form.
Not that his team was awful, but they lacked coordination and focus. Oliver Wood had been a terrible Captain who seemed to have convinced Harry that the sun shone out of the hairy crack in his backside (not that Harry didn't believe that anyway, but Wood certainly hadn't done Neville any favours). As such, he refused to join in any team strategy meetings or help with practicing any plays, because his job was to float about above the field of play pretending to be looking for the Snitch whilst actually checking out the girls in the stands. Neville had his suspicions that Harry was just resentful that McGonagall had picked Neville over Harry for Quidditch Captain, and was deliberately trying to sabotage him. Of course, he caught the Snitch on both occasions so far, so one could hardly say he wasn't doing his job.
Neville had employed Malfoy as a reserve Seeker to try and convince Harry that there was competition for his place and maybe motivate him a bit. It hadn't worked. Rather than train, Malfoy wrote everything they did down in a notebook. When questioned about this he had merely leapt into the air and shouted, "How dare you accuse me of being a spy, you Mudblood loving fool!"
Ron had been another potential Quidditch Captain, but he did not seem at all put out at not being chosen. In fact, he had become Neville's dedicated assistant. He had filled several books with strategies he'd been working on since early childhood, and had proudly presented them to Neville. Whereas Ron had a brilliant tactical mind, his spelling was appalling and he had a tendency to lose interest. Several of his best strategies stopped somewhere in the middle for him to write a poem about a bird he saw or to show rather crude drawings of people doing unwholesome things to each other.
Then there were the cheerleaders. Before his untimely demise, Dumbledore had decided that each House Team ought to have its own cheerleaders for morale. The Slytherin cheerleaders did not do much to raise morale. Although they included Millicent Bulstrode's legs and the smoking hot Pansy Parkinson, they unfortunately also included Millicent Bulstrode's face and Gregory Goyle, who did not have a figure designed for a green cheerleader outfit. Gryffindor's head cheerleader was the ever-enthusiastic Ginny Weasley. Most of her chants seemed to feature several references to Neville's bum. It was not easy to play Quidditch when you were worried the cheerleaders were trying to catch a peak up your robes.
All in all, Neville was not exactly optimistic about the match. Perhaps that was why he took it so well when they lost.
Ron broke down and cried, and pledged to throw himself into the lake at the next conceivable opportunity.
"I don't understand," Harry said. "We won. I caught the Snitch."
"Yes, you caught the Snitch," Neville said. "But they still had three hundred more points than us. That means we're third."
There are no prizes for guessing which team finished last.
"Yes, but I caught the Snitch," Harry seethed. "No one cares what you lot did. The important thing is that I was awesome. Now come on, we're going to have a big party to celebrate."
No one felt much like celebrating, despite Harry running around the Common Room and insist people sing.
Harry Potter is so awesome,
Harry Potter is so cool.
Oh, we all wish we could be Harry Potter,
Then we'd be awesome too.
"I wrote it myself," Harry told a third year girl who actually looked impressed by the whole thing. Neville rolled his eyes.
"As if he needs encouragement," he muttered.
"Don't worry, Neville, I still think you were the best Captain Gryffindor's ever had," Ginny tried to tell him. She had not yet removed her cheerleader costume; although Neville had a feeling she had removed her knickers. She was crossing and uncrossing her legs a lot more than usual, and Neville was determined not to look.
He was a man, however, and knew that he resolve could not hold out forever. He decided to head to bed before he accidentally gave Ginny a bit of false hope. He had to hand it to her; she was persistent. Well, more obsessive than persistent really, but there was something to be said for a girl who stuck to her guns.
###
Ginny was not feeling particularly good about herself though. After Neville left her alone in the Common Room, she decided to wander over to pay a visit to the only other person in the room sitting alone as well.
"Go away," Malfoy said as she sat down.
"Draco, you like me, right?" Ginny asked. Malfoy looked at her and seemed to consider it for a while.
"No."
"Oh, come on, Draco. When I came down the stairs in September you couldn't keep your eyes off of me."
"I'd just spent a whole summer being snuggled by your brother. Anything was an improvement over that," Malfoy replied. He turned back to start writing in the little notebook he seemed to always be carrying around. Ginny sat for a while.
"Yes?" he demanded, clearly wondering why she was still here.
"What attracts you in a girl?" Ginny asked.
"A girl who knows when to leave me alone," he snapped. Ginny seemed totally unperturbed. Malfoy was clearly not pleased about this.
"Okay, fine." He slammed his book down. "I like Purebloods who are loyal to their family, blonde, smoking hot. It helps if they're about as intelligent as a bowl of jelly as well."
"Then why are you always looking at Hermione?" Ginny asked. Malfoy scowled, and took a moment to answer.
"She may be my polar opposite and oppose everything I stand for, but she has fantastically epic breasts." Ginny sniffed at this.
"So Neville doesn't like me because I don't have big breasts?" she sobbed. Malfoy looked extremely annoyed by this.
"Don't cry," he said, placing what he hoped was a reassuring hand on her knee. He looked completely out of his depth. "Listen, not all guys are completely shallow bastards. I haven't meet any that aren't, but that doesn't mean there can't be one or two of them out there. Besides, Granger's breasts are clearly fake anyway. Just you wait until she gets older and those two puppies start to sag on her. She'll look ghastly."
"What do you mean 'fake'?" Ginny asked. Her tears suddenly seemed to dry up. Malfoy looked a bit surprised.
"Well, she's obviously used a Breast-Enlargement Potion. It's not the most difficult thing in the world to make..." Ginny suddenly grabbed him.
"There's a Breast-Enlargement Potion? GIVE IT TO ME!" She frantically shook Malfoy.
"I don't have any!" he squealed.
"THEN MAKE SOME!" Ginny replied, slapping him across the face. "Or I'll rip your balls off and use them to stuff my bra. At least then they'll look bigger than what I've got now."