This Bag of Stones
Extra 2
"I swear, those firsties get younger and younger each time we see them!"
"You know that's not how age works, right?" Hermione said, rolling her eyes. She once again attempted to tuck stray curls behind her ears, the hair having escaped the straining elastic that held most of it at bay in a thick ponytail.
"Aaaah, you know what I mean," Ron said with a groan as he fell into their couch. He had begun to grow a fine beard that glinted in the warm light coming from the fire before them, habitually reaching up to scratch it in a manner that made him look rather dignified. "Right, Nev? This year, one of them didn't even reach my waist!"
The room was silent save for the pop of the fire and Hermione rustling through her latest batch of essays. The only occupants of the room looked up at each other in alarm at the same time.
"Nev!"
Hermione dropped the essay she'd been holding, the chair screeching against the stone floor as she stood abruptly. "When did you last see him?"
"I—I don't know, it might've been in the Great Hall or something. He might've said something about going to check on the greenhouse?"
"No, that was last week when we found him by the lake," Hermione said impatiently. "Let's find Harry, he'll have the map on him."
They'd discovered the Marauder's Map in their third year, when the twins had presented it to them as an honorary gift to celebrate their achievements as burgeoning pranksters. And instead of using it to carry out more pranks as Fred and George had hoped, they'd instead studied the map and made a better one—one that allowed them to tap on a corridor or courtyard to monitor what was happening in real-time. Not only that, the Revolutionary Alert Device and Automated Recorder, or RADAR for short, allowed them to set alarms for certain people and locations, notifying them whenever someone was where they shouldn't be.
Right now however, they were most in need of the Find a Person function. The two wandless magic professors barrelled through the Hogwarts' labyrinthine corridors, slowing only to nod at the curious prefects beginning their patrols, before speeding towards the Headmaster's Office where Harry was giving their regular mid-week update to Headmaster Dumbledore.
"Do you think we should go in?" Hermione hovered by the gargoyles, peering at their snarling faces as if they could respond.
"Nah, he knows we're here," Ron said, leaning against the opposing wall.
"We don't have time for your theories, Ron, this is urgent—"
There was a rumbling as the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the office began to shift. A familiar pair of worn trainers revealed themselves, giving way to a dignified set of black robes with silver trim and buttons, an askew tie and a bewildered expression on Harry's face. "What's going on? Prof—Albus told me you needed something."
"I knew he watched us," Ron said triumphantly under his breath.
"Where's Nev?" Harry frowned.
"That's why we're here, we need the map." Hermione held her hand out.
"You were supposed to watch him!" Harry complained, digging into his robes.
Ron shuffled closer, the three of them inspecting the unrolled parchment as Hermione tapped the top with her finger and clearly enunciated "Neville Longbottom". A series of lines forming corridors flashed past, leading them out the doors across the school grounds to a rather intimidating drawing of a tree labelled 'The Whomping Willow'.
"The Shrieking Shack?" The three of them said in unison, staring at each other in shock.
"Go!" Hermione said but the other two didn't need any prompting, sprinting down the hallway past an aggrieved gaggle of ghosts.
The chill of the evening air hit them first, an icy wind that blew from the north. Against the dark shadow of the Forbidden Forest, a lone tree stood upon a ridge, twisting and whipping its razor-sharp limbs towards its next victim. Branches studded with spikes came swinging with the fury of a storm, lashing and writhing as it attempted to sweep the unmoving intruder off his feet.
"Nev!" Hermione screamed, her heart full of dread as they desperately raced towards the figure. They watched as Neville seemed to come back to himself with a start and stumbled back, just out of reach of the raging willow.
"Nev! You alright, mate?" Ron pulled him up, helping their pale shaky companion back to his feet.
"Wha—what's the matter?"
"Whaddya mean what's the matter? What's the matter with you?"
Neville blinked at their worried faces, the shadows under his eyes standing out against his wan skin. "I was just studying the tree."
"Couldn't you have done it from a safer distance?" Ron demanded.
"Sorry," Neville said with a contrite wince. "I don't know what came over me."
"Did you learn anything?" Hermione asked, linking arms with Neville as they traipsed back into the castle.
"Bloody well better have," Ron muttered under his breath. "Nearly lost my dinner just then."
Neville sighed. "I don't know, I just… I feel like I'm so close. The solution is right there! And I just can't—" he clenched his fist midair as if grabbing at an invisible lifeline.
"I know this might be hard to hear," Hermione began delicately, "But have you thought about maybe… taking a break?"
Neville shot her a sharp look. "My parents have been gone for long enough. Do you want to keep them waiting for even longer?"
"I know, I'm just saying—" Hermione began.
"Well, they're not going to notice anyway, are they?" Ron blurted suddenly. He held his hands up when both Harry and Hermione glared at him. "What? Look, I'm just saying what we're all thinking here. You running yourself ragged isn't going to help your parents, is it?"
"We might have been thinking it but we weren't going to say it," Harry said, holding the door to their classroom open.
"Honestly, Ronald, you need to work on your tone," Hermione said with a cross look, escorting Neville to his usual armchair. "You know we want what's best for you, Nev. You're worrying us. You can't say everything's been perfectly fine, what with all your disappearing acts the last few weeks."
"But—" Neville began to argue.
"Nev," Harry interrupted, meeting his friend's combative gaze with a steady one, "even your students have noticed." He pressed on, despite the sudden slackening in Neville's jaw. "A group of fifth-years came after class to ask me what was going on and if there was anything they could do to help Professor Longbottom feel better."
Neville's fists clenched and unclenched several times before he sighed. Sinking into the chair behind him, Neville threw an arm across his eyes. "I just… I don't know what to do," he finally spoke, his voice muffled by the sleeves of his robes. "No matter what I do, it's like I take a step closer and they just… slip away."
"Don't say that Nev, you've made ground-breaking strides in your research that they're now using on patients with Cerebrumous Spattergroit," Hermione said forcefully. "They're saying a cure is already—"
"But I don't care about Cerebrumous Spattergroit!" Neville thundered, surprising all of them including himself. He deflated, the worn leather molding easily to the curve of his weary back. "I know that makes me a horrible person but… I just want my parents back," he ended on a woebegone tone.
"We all do, mate," Harry said. "We all want your parents back, you know we do. But Ron's right, although that's something I never thought I'd say."
"Oi," Ron protested half-heartedly.
"But," Harry continued, "you're not going to get anywhere by driving yourself mad. Remember when Hermione was convinced she had read the solution to the map's alarm function in the library and spent several sleepless weeks tearing up the Restricted Section, only to find it in in her own notebooks instead?"
"That was one time in third year! And I've since perfected my organisational system anyway," Hermione said in a wounded voice.
"What was it that you said to her again?" Harry asked.
"Don't expect success if you're not setting yourself up for it," Neville said with a heavy sigh.
"That's right," Harry said, snapping his fingers.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it." Neville rolled his eyes at Harry's dramatics. "And… you all feel this way?"
Hermione gave him a small smile. "Course we do, Nev. And when you're ready, we're here to help."
Ron cleared his throat. "What they said. As long as it doesn't get in the way of Quidditch practice!" Like the rest of them, Ron had picked up extracurricular projects on the side, helping Madam Hooch with monitoring the pitch every weekend as teams practiced for upcoming matches.
"And Merlin forbid anything get in the way of your Quidditch practice," Hermione said in a droll tone.
"Exactly!" Ron beamed and jumped to his feet. "Well, I'm knackered. See you lot tomorrow for breakfast!"
Amidst the chorus of listless farewells from Harry and Hermione, Neville stared deep into the fire, watching the warm amber flames dance over the glowing logs. A lick of red attempted to break free of the main blaze, escaping down the end of a particularly long stick only to slowly fizzle out as it lost momentum. A sudden snap startled him.
"You alright, Nev?" Harry's voice spoke up from behind him.
Neville shook his head, blinking away the dancing spots from staring at the fire for too long. "Yeah I just… I think I need a walk. Clear my mind a little, you know?"
"I'll come—"
"No need!" The room suddenly felt too hot, too stifling and constrained. "I'll just swing by the first greenhouse and come back, promise." He met Harry and Hermione's worried gazes and swallowed the sliver of shame back down his throat. "I promise."
The frigid wind was a welcome distraction. Neville pulled his robes closer, huddling in its meagre warmth. He could feel the tips of his ears, nose and cheeks begin to freeze as he picked up his pace, hurrying down the familiar overgrown path that led to Greenhouse One. The newly replaced panels were still pristine compared to the other greenhouses; his very first experiment with the Lifestone had resulted in the entire greenhouse having to be disassembled and built from scratch in a new location.
The magically-enhanced greenhouse released a blast of humid air when he first pulled the door open. Breathing in deeply, Neville felt his turbulent thoughts finally start to settle after what felt like far too long. He took a deep breath, welcoming the earthy warmth as it suffused his lungs and breathing out the tension from his shoulders. Home.
A cloud of blue butterflies scattered into the air from a nearby bush, scared away by his approach. Neville drew closer to the line of wild Moly plants he had been replanting into pots, spotting out of the corner of his eye a small translucent chrysalis hanging from one of the leaves. He halted his ministrations, observing the chrysalis that seemed to be hanging by a thread.
As an experienced Herbologist, he knew well how crucial butterflies were to the ecosystem of plants. In fact, the species at Hogwarts were considered to be endangered, a rare magical blue butterfly that only survived in the cooler highlands. He and Professor Sprout had been determined to revitalize the local population, introducing various swarms to each greenhouse slowly over the last few years to see if they would take to them. Despite their best efforts, the butterfly population never really managed to take off, always maintaining around the same number at each monthly count.
The chrysalis shivered and twitched without any disturbance from him, a small seam ripping down the side of it.
"Fascinating little creatures, aren't they?" A gravelly voice from behind startled him. Neville turned to see Professor Dumbledore looking very out of place in a set of shimmering midnight robes, the door to the greenhouse swinging shut silently just up the path. The headmaster tipped his head towards the cocoon. "The way they struggle so hard to reach their final form, only to live such fleeting lives."
"I think it's sad." The words ripped out of him before he could stop it. He felt compelled to explain himself at Professor Dumbledore's inquiring look. "I mean, what's the point anyway? They're just going to die. Why are we trying so hard to keep them alive when they don't even help themselves?"
Dumbledore studied him for a few seconds over his glasses. Despite being a member of the staff for the past year and a half, Neville still felt like a recalcitrant student when he did that. He ducked his head and returned to tending to the Moly plants.
After a few beats of silence, the headmaster spoke again. "Did you know that if you helped a butterfly out of its chrysalis too early, you might doom it to a shorter life?"
Neville frowned, confused at where he was going with this. "I—"
"The point, my dear boy, is life. You can help as much as you like but some things move on their own schedule."
He narrowed his eyes. "So you mean we shouldn't try help them at all?"
The headmaster looked surprised at his conclusion. "Merlin's beard no, far be it from me to stop you! We can merely do our best to help but it is up to them to take the final step. And sometimes, all we can do… is wait."
Neville gazed at the row of vivid white flowers before him, unconsciously tracing the tip of one of the black leaves. The stillness of the air in the greenhouse seemed to magnify, leaving the echo of Professor Dumbledore's last words ringing in his ears. An unknown period of time passed before a soft rustle caught their attention.
Almost too quick for their eyes to catch, the butterfly slipped free of its restraints, hanging onto the shell of the chrysalis by its legs as it weakly opened and closed a pair of satin blue wings. Within minutes, it seemed to recover its strength until it darted into the air without warning, flying straight at the two spectators before swinging away at the last second.
"And away it goes, on a another great adventure," Headmaster Dumbledore mused before beaming down at Neville. "Well, I'd say it's time for us to return to our soft beds and even softer pillows! Thank you for taking the time to listen to an old man's ramblings."
Neville mumbled his farewell, staring at the glass door as it closed with a low click behind the old professor, leaving him alone in the darkness.
St. Mungos was as busy as always on a Saturday morning. The hallways were crowded with visitors and frazzled Healers but in the private room he had arranged for his parents, the hubbub was greatly muffled.
Neville sat between the two beds, staring at nothing in particular as he fiddled with something in his hands. "—got me thinking of something. What if I've been approaching it wrong this whole time? What if… instead of trying to break the curse, I should have just shown you the way back and let you break free of it yourselves? I don't know if that makes sense," he said with a grimace, massaging his spine where the hard wood of the chair had pressed into his back. "But I've tried everything I could think of and I'm just… I'm all out of ideas."
He hung his head, letting the disappointment wash over him for a few minutes. But before the silence dragged on for too long, Neville gave a small snort. "What am I doing, Hermione would never forgive me for sitting here feeling sorry for myself. And Harry… Harry would tell me off in such a way that I wouldn't even know it." He looked back up at his parents' prone figures in the beds, their pale complexions ever unchanging.
"You know what they're like anyway," he said, feeling a reluctant smile tug at his lips. "You'd think Ron was a riot, Dad. He's a bit careless but he means well, they all do. I'm grateful I can call them my best friends—no, my brothers and sister." More quietly—mostly to himself—he continued, "One day, you'll meet them, I promise."
"Anyway, I hope you both understand if I don't visit as often anymore. Not forever, just for a little while. Just to clear my head, you know? I don't mean that spending time with you is a burden or anything, I just—" He stopped himself from talking and sighed. "I should go."
Neville rose from the chair, wincing as he did so. "Merlin, they really try to keep visitors away with these chairs, don't they?" He looked down at the object in his hands. "I—I brought something to keep you company while I'm away. It's nothing special, just a piece of rock really. No one else liked this one but… I thought it had a certain charm to it."
He placed it on the low table between the beds and gazed at the two patients for a long breath. "Goodbye Mum, goodbye Dad."
The next day, Neville was urgently summoned to the Headmaster's Office.
"Neville! There you are!" A distraught head spoke from the fireplace.
"Madam Strout? What's wrong? Are my parents alright?" Neville hurried over, shooting Professor Dumbledore a worried look but as always, he was as serene as ever.
"Alright?!" The healer seemed to be at a loss for words. "Why they're… they're more than alright, I'd say!"
"What—what do you mean? What's going on?" Neville pleaded.
"It's your parents. They—they're asking for you!"
-WakeStone-
Description: A jagged stone with a chunk missing from the corner.
Function: Brings any unconscious persons back to consciousness, regardless of why they were in that state.
Conditions: May take several hours, depending on the severity. Cannot be used to revive the dead.
A/N: Greetings, readers! It's been ten years since I posted the very first chapter to this story and how it's grown in the time I've left it!
I've decided to leave the rest of the story as it is (silly mistakes and all) because it feels like it'll be taking something away from what past me has achieved. But this little extra is something that has been lurking in the back of my mind since I started writing those last few chapters, almost like an ode to Neville and how much I enjoyed writing his character. As a side note, while I try to stay as accurate as possible to canon, the blue butterflies were just a plot device that I came up with—they do exist but they're not as rare as I implied!
For everyone who's left a review, I can't thank you enough. Every now and then when I need a little confidence boost in my writing, I come back and read your lovely comments, passing thoughts and fantastic criticism. I appreciate every single one of you (especially the kind person who offered to make me a new cover photo!) and hope that you enjoyed this latest instalment.
Special mentions to those who said they've returned to this story to reread it, I'm both honoured and humbled that this story holds the same place in your hearts as some of my favourites do. Also to those who asked very fair questions about the lack of development around Malfoy's friendship, to be honest that had been a planned extra that I just haven't gotten around to yet. So if you're lucky, I might yet return to this story in the future and finally get around to writing it. And if not… well I'll just leave it to your imagination as to what could have happened ;)
If you liked reading my story, you might be interested in my original work on Royal Road (replace the space with a dot): royalroad com/fiction/63846/maraciel-falling
For everyone else, good night and good luck!
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