Chapter 13

Neville had finally calmed down.

He still didn't understand what was wrong with him. He had been alternating between moments of blankness and moments of inexplicable crying since he had gotten back from the Infirmary. The potion that Madam Pomfrey had given him kept him reasonably calm, but he still felt the urge to cry or scream every few minutes.

It was so embarrassing! He was fourteen years-old, he wasn't supposed to cry like a little boy anymore. And since when did he break down at the thought of what had happened to his parents? It wasn't news to him, after all. He had known since he was little that his parents had been tortured into insanity. He had known about the Cruciatus Curse, and even the names of the people who had done it. Nothing of this was new, so why had he fallen to pieces?

Maybe it was because he had never been able to really imagine it. He had tried, over the years, but clearly his brain had not known how to picture real horror. And then today, when he had seen the spider twitch and shudder... he had suddenly been able to imagine his parents screaming. And some part of him had even felt the pain, as if it were happening to him.

The door of the dormitory opened, and Neville hurried to compose himself. It was Harry and Ron, coming to fetch some books. Ron turned around and disappeared downstairs almost immediately, but Harry stayed behind for a moment, looking at him.

"You all right, Neville?" he asked him. He sounded worried.

"Oh yes, I'm fine," lied Neville, trying to shape his mouth into a smile. It didn't work.

"Did Snape give you detention or something?" Harry demanded, his eyes hardening.

"No, he just took me to the Infirmary, I wasn't feeling too well. Madam Pomfrey gave me a potion, so I'm fine now."

Harry seemed relieved, but also confused. Neville had also been confused when Snape had taken him to the Infirmary instead of his office, but he had also been grateful. Snape was always mean to him, but he always fixed him up when he had a potion's accident. He was scared of the man, but he didn't hate him, unlike Harry.

"Okay, that's good," said Harry after a brief hesitation. He looked as if he wanted to say more. Don't ask, please, begged Neville inside his mind. Please don't ask... And to his relief, Harry seemed to understand that. He always understood when someone didn't want to talk about something. Maybe because he also preferred to be left alone sometimes.

When Harry had gone downstairs after Ron, Neville laid down and continued thinking about him. He had been too shocked this afternoon after the Cruciatus demonstration as to notice much of anything else, but now that he thought about it, he had seen Harry's face when Moody had killed the spider. And Moody had said that that had been the curse used on Harry, so it must have also been the curse used on his parents. It must have been hard on Harry to see that, too.

Neville wondered if You-Know-Who had tortured Harry's parents before killing them, and if Harry knew about that. He hoped not. It was horrible to know that his parents had suffered so much. Neville wished they had just died, like the spider, quick and without pain. Although at least he still had his parents. Even if they didn't know him, he could go to see them, and sometimes his Mum gave him a candy wrap and a smile, or if he was lucky maybe a hug. Harry didn't have that. He had never been hugged by his Mum. And he also didn't have a real family. Neville's Gran and great-uncle Algie maybe weren't the most affectionate family one could have, but at least they didn't hate him, and they tried to be patient with him. He knew that Harry's relatives were awful people, although Harry didn't like to talk about that and Neville never asked.

Neville was lucky in comparison. It was hard to please Gran, but he had never lacked anything with her, and he knew that she loved him, deep down. It was just too painful for her to look at him, even after all these years. And of course Neville was a constant disappointment, it made sense that her patience sometimes ran short with him. He tried to be better, to do better, but he kept forgetting things and having silly accidents. Gran must think that he didn't really try, but he did. He was just useless.

He closed the curtains of his bed when Dean and Seamus came up and went to sleep. A while later he heard Harry come in. By the way he roughly moved things around while preparing to bed, he must be angry or upset. That wasn't so uncommon, Harry had had a lot of reasons to be angry since Neville had met him, and he had a dreadful temper, as they all in the dormitory knew. But tonight it worried Neville more than usual. Maybe Harry also could have used a Calming Draught after Moody's class. It was a shame that Snape would rather give him poison than medicine.

Neville felt a lot better the next morning. Harry also looked better, although still a little upset about something. It was always hard to tell what was going on inside his mind, since he never shared anything except with Ron and Hermione. The three of them always seemed to have some important secret to hide. Not for the first time, Neville envied them a little. It wasn't bad envy, he didn't think so, just longing. He didn't have friends like that, he wasn't even sure he had friends. He was friendly with all his Gryffindor's classmates, and with several people of other years and even other Houses, but they all seemed to have their own friends, so usually Neville just drifted from one group to another, spending some time with whoever accepted him. It was all right, but sometimes he felt sad. He hoped he would someday be as important to someone as Ron was to Harry. Ron wasn't very nice, and in Neville's opinion he wasn't very good for Harry, but Harry obviously valued Ron as if he were a brother and he could always count with him.

Neville liked Hermione especially. She had always been nice to him, and helpful, since the very first day. She was also a bit scary, though. He honestly didn't know how he would survive Hogwarts without her help, so he tried not to do anything that might make her angry at him.

Not even refuse to pay two sickles for a silly badge. Hermione really was intimidating. And sometimes, despite all her intelligence, she really could be silly. Neville refrained from giving his opinion on the S.P.E.W. subject, of course. Maybe she just didn't understand, since she had grown up with Muggles, but house elves were actually very happy doing what they did. It would be cruel to free them, and insulting to offer them money. Neville would never do that to the elves at home, and he would make sure that they never heard about him paying for a S.P.E.W. badge. He hoped Hermione would not go bothering the Hogwarts' elves.

He felt nervous as usual next Monday when he headed down to the dungeons with Dean and Seamus. Potion's class always made his heart beat faster, and after the last cauldron he had melted and the barrel of horned toads, he was simply terrified. What if he melted another cauldron today and Snape made him disembowel Trevor? He had not taken his toad to class since that time last year when Snape had tried to poison it (he would always owe Hermione for that), but no doubt the Professor would command him to take Trevor to him if it suited him, and Neville would not be able to say no.

The solution was clear: he had to do better at Potions. No more melted cauldrons. He had to concentrate more, and make sure he didn't get distracted. He should be able to follow simple instructions, right?

No matter how much Neville tried to focus and do better, however, somehow he still forgot a few steps in his potion and knocked over his scales twice. He also sliced his finger and began to bleed all over. Professor Snape had to come over and heal it with a wave of his wand.

"Stay after class, Longbottom," the man said simply before going to criticize Harry's potion. Well, he didn't sound too angry nor murderous, that was good.

Neville washed the blood from his hands and cleaned his table before focusing again on his potion, which was now brown instead of green as it should be according to the book. Maybe he should add more Scarab Beetles?

"More Armadillo Bile," whispered Hermione. "Until it turns yellowish."

Feeling relieved, Neville followed her instructions as best as he could, and a few minutes later he saw that the potion was more yellow than brown.

"Now a little Ginger Root, until it turns lime green," whispered his saviour without looking away from her own potion.

"Granger!" yelled Snape angrily, coming to stand right in front of Hermione and glaring at her. "I've told you a hundred times NOT to help Longbottom! For an insufferable Know-It-All you don't seem to learn! Twenty points from Gryffindor, and if I ever catch you doing that again I will make sure you never see a Prefect's badge up close!"

"I'm sorry, Professor," she mumbled looking ashamed and afraid.

Neville felt terrible. Hermione shouldn't get in trouble helping him. He should have told her not to bother. Well, he had, many times, but she insisted on helping him, and he always was so afraid and desperate that it was hard to refuse the help.

Snape also took ten points from Harry for looking at him bad, and another ten points from Ron for complaining about Harry losing points for that. So, forty points in total because Neville was so completely useless. Gryffindor House would be better off without him, definitely.

It was almost a relief when at last the bell rang and everyone left leaving Neville behind. At least now Snape couldn't take points from anyone else because of him.

"Come here, Longbottom," ordered the Professor. "Sit down."

Neville obeyed and sat in front of Snape's desk.

"Tell me what went wrong with your potion, Longbottom."

"I... I don't know, Professor. I was trying my best, but I guess I forgot a few steps anyway."

"And how did you cut your hand?"

"I'm just clumsy," said Neville with a shrug. "I promise I will do better, please don't kill Trevor!"

Snape let out an exasperated sigh.

"Dumbledore would fire me if I killed a student's familiar, Longbottom," he said rolling his eyes. "And I would go to jail if I harmed a student. You should know this. The worst I can do is take points or give you detention."

Neville stared at him, trying to decide whether he was telling the truth. Well, when he put it that way, he supposed it made sense that teachers couldn't kill pets nor torture students. Not even Snape. His Gran would probably have something to say about that, if she heard, and she was scarier than Snape, sometimes. And Dumbledore was kind, he wouldn't allow Neville or Trevor being hurt, right?

"I've been trying to get through your thick skull for years, Longbottom," continued Snape with annoyance. "Nothing seems to work. Six melted cauldrons is ridiculous, especially considering that you melted them brewing essentially harmless potions. The mistakes you make are absurd!"

"I'm sorry, Professor! I don't know why I'm so useless! I try, I really do!" Neville felt like crying, but tried really hard not to. Snape no doubt would mock him if he cried, and he would tell anyone out loud during the next class. Of course, Neville crying wasn't news for anybody, and he was used to being laughed at, but it hurt anyway. And it was more embarrassing now that he was fourteen years old.

Snape looked at him for a long time with a thoughtful frown on his face.

"You seem to do better when Granger is helping you," he observed finally. "Why is that?"

"I don't know. I guess it's easier when she's telling me what to do at each step."

"That might be so, but you won't learn anything that way. You have to use your own brain, Longbottom!" Snape took a deep breath as if to calm himself. "All right, we will try a different approach. From now on, I don't care how good or disastrous your potions are, nor if you finish on time. Your only assignment will be to correctly follow the instructions, as slowly as you have to to make sure you don't forget anything. I want you to read each line and think about it three times before preparing any ingredient, and then you will have to check three more times that you prepared the correct ingredient for that step before putting anything inside your cauldron. If you lose count or are not sure if you checked, you will start over. Whenever you grab a tool, you will pay complete attention to it, focusing on how it feels in your hand. And you will ignore Granger each-step-of-the-way. If you have doubts, you will ask your Professor for help, who happens to be me. Am I clear?"

Neville stared at Snape with mouth open. He had expected more threats and insults, but this was different. Sure, Snape was still treating him like a retarded person, maybe even more than usual, but it sounded as if he was trying to help Neville with his memory and coordination problems. He had said that he would no longer care how the potion turned out, as long a Neville followed the instructions and checked three times and three times again. He could do that, right? Maybe if he wasn't in a rush and he wasn't so afraid of messing up, following simple instructions wouldn't be so difficult.

"Am I clear, Longbottom?" repeated Snape, his tone harder.

"Yes, sir!"

"Good. Now go away, and read three times each sentence of you essay as well. You tend to skip words, make sure that doesn't happen anymore."

Neville nodded and hurried out of the classroom, thinking that that must have been the weirdest potion's class he had ever had.

He found Hermione at the library during lunch, and tried to convince her of not helping him anymore at potions.

"I will be fine," he assured her. "Professor Snape said that I have to use my own brain, and that he won't kill Trevor if I mess up."

Her eyes widened in alarm.

"Kill Trevor? Has he threatened you with that again?"

"Sort of, but today he said that Dumbledore would fire him if he did that. And I guess it must be true."

"Of course it's true! He shouldn't threaten you at all! Maybe you should talk to Professor McGonagall..."

"It's all right, Hermione," said Neville, feeling grateful that he had someone who cared about him. "I think Professor Snape is just trying to help me being a little less useless."

"You're not useless, Neville," Hermione said with a frown. It always bothered her when he said that, even though it was true.

"I am. But I will be fine. Don't help me anymore, though, I don't want you to get in trouble because of me."

Hermione looked as if she wanted to argue, but she must be also worried about losing her Prefect badge, because she finally sighed and nodded.

"All right. But if he threatens you again you tell me, Neville. And just in case don't bring Trevor with you to Potions."

As if his day had not been weird enough so far, Professor Sprout also made him stay after class that afternoon. This made Neville even more nervous than staying after Potions, because he really liked Herbology and he didn't want to disappoint Professor Sprout. He didn't remember having done anything wrong today, but he often didn't notice when he made mistakes, so maybe he had neglected some plant?

"Don't look so scared, Neville," said Professor Sprout with a warm smile that made him relax at once. "I just want to ask you if you would like to come help me harvest whenever Professor Snape needs ingredients from the Greenhouses. Some plants are still too dangerous for you, but you can handle everything from a Shrivelfig to a Mandrake, and I could use the help."

Neville stared at her with open mouth.

"I... I would really like to, Professor," he said, his voice trembling. "But I... I'm useless. I would just ruin Professor Snape's ingredients, I..."

"Nonsense! You will do just fine, and I'm sure Professor Snape will appreciate to know that you helped gathering ingredients for his classes," she laughed at that, as if she were enjoying a private joke. "I might even show you some of my special plants, what do you say?" she added with a wink.

Neville thought he must be dreaming. So overwhelmed he felt that he couldn't find words, so he just nodded.

"Great. I will let you know when we have some work to do. In the meantime, here."

Professor Sprout summoned a book and offered it to him. Neville took it hesitantly and read the title. Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean. Water plants? That sounded interesting... They had never worked with aquatic plants so far, Neville didn't even know if Professor Sprout kept some of them. She smiled at him again.

"I knew you would like it," she said warmly. "I have more books like this one if you want to borrow them."

Borrow? Was she really lending it to him? He was certain that Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean wasn't in the Library, he didn't even remember having seen it in Flourish & Blotts. And he definitely wanted to see what other books Professor Sprout had!

He left the Greenhouse in a daze and with a precious book under his arm. He couldn't yet quite believe what had just happened.