Chapter 8: Earth, Meet Sky
Neville and Harry had a bit of a rocky start. It wasn't that they didn't enjoy each other's company—just that neither of them had much experience with the fine art of making friends. They weren't entirely sure what friends did together or how friendships were supposed to begin.
Harry, however, had at least seen what friendship looked like. The effortless way people who truly cared for each other could tease and banter, how they leaned on one another without hesitation. He wasn't sure he'd ever have something like that, but he figured he could try.
Neville, for his part, was still struggling to believe this was real. When his grandmother had told him to dress properly for a visitor, he had expected a distant relative, perhaps an associate of hers from the Wizengamot. Never in a million years would he have guessed Harry Potter. And yet, here Harry stood, looking just as uncertain as Neville felt.
Neville cleared his throat, searching for something—anything—to say. "Do you like plants, Harry?" The question tumbled out before he could think better of it, his voice betraying just how eager he was to find common ground with his famous guest.
Harry hesitated. "I—well, I used to pull weeds in my aunt's flower garden," he admitted. "So I guess I know the difference between a flower and a weed?" He gave a small, self-conscious shrug, his cheeks tinged pink.
Neville, relieved to have found a topic, brightened immediately. "Come on, then. I'll show you something better than a flowerbed full of weeds."
He led Harry through the back doors and into the garden, and the moment they stepped outside, Harry felt like he had entered another world. Towering stone walls enclosed the space, their surfaces almost entirely swallowed by ivy and climbing roses. Ancient columns—some weathered, others standing tall—formed a loose perimeter around the heart of the garden, remnants of an era long past.
The cobblestone path beneath their feet twisted through an intricate rock garden before winding toward a hand-carved stone reflecting pool, its water perfectly still, mirroring the sky. Italian cypress trees framed the pool, their dark, slender forms contrasting against clusters of lavender and rosemary. The air smelled fresh and earthy, tinged with floral sweetness and the crisp bite of greenery.
As they walked, Neville pointed out plants like old friends, his voice warm with familiarity. Harry listened, fascinated by how easily Neville spoke about the garden, as if the plants weren't just things growing in the dirt, but companions—constant, comforting presences in his life.
Neville knew the name of every plant and introduced each as if they were dear friends.
Clusters of purple geraniums, wisteria, and climbing roses spilled over trellises, their blossoms swaying gently in the breeze. Sweet-scented grasses brushed against their legs as they walked, mingling with the fragrance of lilies, carnations, and mint. Peonies and tulips bloomed in neat beds, while violets peeked out from beneath miniature fruit trees and berry bushes. Butterflies flitted from one flower to the next, drawn by the carefully cultivated blooms designed to attract them. Everywhere, plants grew from wooden crates, ceramic pots, stone troughs, and weathered terracotta planters, giving the garden a wild yet intentional beauty.
Neville's voice swelled with quiet pride as he pointed to a collection of magical plants. "That's Dittany," he said, gesturing toward a cluster of unassuming green leaves. "Our family is one of the main suppliers of potion ingredients."
Harry tilted his head. "Dittany?"
"It's a healing herb used in most healing potions," Neville explained eagerly. "If you chew the leaves, it can heal small cuts almost instantly."
Harry listened with growing fascination as Neville led him toward several sprawling greenhouses, their glass panels glinting in the sunlight. Inside, rows upon rows of plants stretched toward the sky, their leaves misted with condensation.
"I'm not allowed in there without an adult or an elf," Neville said darkly, crossing his arms.
Harry hesitated, unsure what to make of that. "Are the plants dangerous or something? And… elf?"
Neville grinned. "Well, yeah. House-elves are magical servants, and some of the plants in there are seriously deadly. The cry of a mandrake can kill you outright. We grow Devil's Snare and Venomous Tentacula—both can grab you and strangle you if you're not paying attention."
Harry's eyes widened, and Neville laughed at his expression. "Don't worry," he added, "there are plenty of useful plants that aren't dangerous at all. Like Gillyweed."
Neville led Harry to a large, semi-circular pond near the back of the garden, where the water dappled with shifting light beneath the protective canopy of a Wiggentree. He crouched near the edge, plucking a strand of limp, greenish-black weeds from the water.
"It helps you breathe underwater," he explained.
Harry stared at it skeptically. "Seriously?"
Neville nodded. "Yeah. I was scared of the water when I was little, so my uncle gave me a handful and then—" he hesitated, before shrugging. "—he threw me in the pond."
Harry's brows shot up. "He what?"
Neville chuckled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, I didn't know what was going to happen. It tasted awful—like worms. Then I grew gills and fins, and suddenly I could swim like a fish. It was actually fun… after I got over the terror of drowning. And transforming sort of hurt at first."
Harry thought that getting tossed into the water like that was kind of mean. He didn't say anything, but if it had been him, he figured he would've been terrified. Not knowing what was going to happen, not even knowing how to swim—yeah, that sounded awful. Neville seemed okay with it, though, so maybe it wasn't as bad as it sounded. Still, Harry couldn't help but think that Neville deserved better.
Harry, who didn't know how to swim himself, was fascinated. He told Neville he'd love to try Gillyweed, just to see what breathing underwater felt like.
Neville nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe we can do that this summer?"
They exchanged tentative grins. Had they just made plans together?
Harry figured since Neville had made the first move, he should at least make the second. "Do you know how to fly?"
Neville's expression fell, and he shook his head. "My grandmother thinks it's too dangerous. She says her heart can't take watching me zoom around on one of those flimsy contraptions. Plus, I'm sort of clumsy, and… well, heights aren't really my thing." He glanced at Harry, almost nervous, as if waiting to be judged.
Harry, who couldn't imagine being afraid of heights but definitely understood being afraid of things, nodded. "Yeah? I don't really like small enclosed places."
The two of them let out matching sighs.
"Well, I'm a little nervous about learning to swim, and you're a little nervous about learning to fly. Maybe we can help each other?" Harry offered quietly. "You think your grandmother would let you come over to my—" He blinked, catching himself. "I mean, Remus's house? Remus just bought two brooms that he says are good for beginners." He hesitated, then added shyly, "I love flying."
Neville hesitated, making sure his voice wouldn't wobble. He looked over at Harry, half-expecting to see teasing or pity, but instead, all he saw was a boy who genuinely wanted to be his friend. Neville grinned. "I'll probably be terrible on a broom."
Harry shrugged. "I probably won't even be able to float or doggy paddle."
Neville chuckled. "Okay. Bet you learn to swim before I learn to fly."
Harry laughed. "What's the bet?"
Neville hummed. "Good point. A Galleon?"
Harry nodded. "A Galleon it is." They shook on it.
Harry leaned back on his elbows, relaxing, when something small and fast caught his eye. "What the hell?" He sat up straight, staring as a shriveled potato with legs darted across the grass and dove into a bush. "What was that?"
Neville let out a long-suffering sigh. "That was a garden gnome. The bane of my existence."
By the time they were called in for lunch, something new had taken root beneath the arching branches of a Rowan tree. A friendship, fragile but determined, had begun to bloom.
Neville felt most at home with his hands deep in the earth. Harry felt most free soaring through the sky. But where they met—two lonely boys, scarred by a war they couldn't even remember—was golden and filled with promise.
Meanwhile, Remus was having an increasingly difficult time holding his ground against Augusta Longbottom. The woman was fire and ice—easily one of the most intimidating creatures he had ever encountered. Fire-breathing dragons, Acromantula, even Greyback himself couldn't hold a candle to the Dowager Longbottom.
She grilled him relentlessly about his guardianship of the Boy Who Lived, subjecting him to clipped critiques on everything from his past rule-breaking to his utter lack of suitability as a father figure. Remus bit his tongue. He could handle scathing remarks, but alienating this particular pureblood matriarch was not in Harry's best interest.
As she spoke, his mind drifted back to the first time he met Augusta Longbottom—at the train station, years ago. She had doted on Frank in a way that left no doubt he was the center of her world, and Frank, for all his quiet confidence, had never denied her anything. He had been like a big brother to James, and their bond had only grown stronger once Frank started dating Alice. She was in their year, and by Frank's fifth year, her third, their relationship had seemed inevitable—helped along, no doubt, by hours spent together on the Quidditch pitch.
Remus could still picture those golden summers, the Marauders running wild at Longbottom Manor alongside Lily and Alice, before the war took everything—lives, friendships, futures.
He still visited Frank and Alice at St. Mungo's when he could. It was a quiet promise he had made to his fallen friends, and in a different world—one where war hadn't shattered everything—Neville and Harry would have grown up as brothers. That unspoken history was the only reason he had any claim to Augusta Longbottom's time.
Augusta set her teacup down with a precise, deliberate movement, fixing him with a sharp gaze. "I can see the merits of your argument, Remus," she said, sighing. "But honestly, what are you going to do when the full moon comes? And have you even told the boy?"
Remus's mouth went dry, and his hands clenched involuntarily. "Well, that's actually another reason I wanted to speak with you, Lady Longbottom," he admitted, swallowing his pride. "I was hoping Harry could stay here on those nights. Maybe the day after as well. It… takes a bit out of me."
Augusta's expression didn't change, but he knew she understood. She had been on the Hogwarts Board of Governors when he was a student—one of the few who had approved his admission. More than that, she had played a pivotal role in securing the measures that allowed him to attend at all. It had been Augusta who arranged for the Whomping Willow to be transplanted from Longbottom Gardens to Hogwarts grounds, ensuring that the Shrieking Shack could serve as a safe place for his transformations.
"And no," he continued, rubbing his temple, "I haven't told him. I will. I just… think he's got enough on his plate right now. This can wait."
Remus endured a long, scrutinizing moment beneath Augusta's piercing gaze. Then, to his relief, she let the matter drop.
"It amazes me that no one has realized the boy isn't still with his relatives," she said, shaking her head in clear disapproval. "Albus has a lot to answer for."
At Remus's startled expression, she sighed. "Don't worry, I won't be the one to tell him he's a bloody idiot."
Despite himself, Remus huffed a quiet laugh.
"Fine," Augusta said crisply. "You may bring the boy over whenever you like." Her gaze drifted to the French doors overlooking the gardens, where Neville had been just a short while ago. She imagined the boys were down by the pond now, out of sight but hopefully getting along.
Her lips pursed slightly. "Now, tell me about young Lord Potter," she said, her tone turning critical again. "He looks frail."
Remus didn't mince his words, sharing as much as Harry had told him, along with his own deductions that Harry had been abused. He sighed. "To be honest, I wouldn't have interfered, but he sent me a letter, and I just knew I had to rescue the lad." He sighed again. "Augusta, you know that Alice was named Godmother to Harry and Lily to Neville?"
Augusta nodded. "Yes. I was aware of it." Suddenly, her fiery side flared. "I petitioned Albus for custody of the boy." She sighed deeply. "He told me Harry was safer with his Muggle relatives because of a blood ward Lily had placed. He said that if I made a formal petition for Harry, Lily's memory and reputation would be dragged through the mud. It's unheard of for a Muggle-born witch to place blood wards. And scandalous that a Muggle-born would put those wards on Muggle homes. Our society wasn't ready to accept that there was just as much magic in her blood as there was in ours." She shook her head. "Frank and Alice wanted to place similar wards here." Her voice dropped as she added, "I stubbornly refused, believing at the time that it was dark magic." She sighed again. "I was a fool."
Remus shook his head. "You were following the law. You can't be blamed for that."
Augusta scowled. "A law that I helped make!" She rolled her eyes. "Don't try to make me feel better, Mr. Lupin. It's unbecoming." Remus wisely stayed silent, unsure how to respond.
Finally, she said, "Frank bequeathed that land and cabin to you, Mr. Lupin. I know you consider yourself a tenant, but you shouldn't. So if I ask you to stop sending monthly rental payments, will you?"
Remus shook his head. "I know how difficult it was to continue on alone after Frank. And that the will didn't go into effect because Frank is still alive. So I don't own the land, and the law doesn't allow for me to own land." He smiled sadly at Lady Longbottom, who didn't pursue the argument further.
The money Remus gave her every month went toward Neville's Hogwarts tuition and books. The House of Longbottom had fallen on hard times, despite appearances to the contrary. Augusta had let a lot of things slide over the years. She recognized it but seemed incapable of changing it. Maybe this was the push she needed.
"Well, then perhaps a compromise." Lady Augusta was a shrewd negotiator and still had more than enough gravitas to pull off a good deal.
Remus inclined his head. "You know I could deny you nothing, my Lady." Which caused her to smirk.
"I'm immune to your charms, Mr. Lupin." But she smiled. "You will take both boys under your capable tutelage until they are shipped off to Hogwarts. You will continue this tutelage during Holidays and Summer breaks. I find I have little energy for young boys, but you seem quite up to the challenge. As Neville's tutor, you will be compensated with accommodations, and of course, Harry is always welcome here. Our home should have been his as well if fate hadn't intervened."
Remus smiled at the proud and formidable woman across from him. "Put that way, Ma'am, how can I refuse?"
"Mr. Lupin. Please, call me Augusta." Remus bit his lip, looking almost pained. "Then you must call me Remus." They quickly hashed out the details of Remus's employment as a private tutor and advisor. Augusta knew she was getting the better end of the deal.
When she called her grandson and Harry in for lunch, and she saw the beginnings of a true friendship forming between the boys—especially as they petitioned for swimming lessons for Harry and flying lessons for Neville—she didn't have the heart to deny either boy's excited request. She shrugged and simply said, "Your summer schedule will be left to your new tutor's discretion." She pointed to Remus, who smiled mischievously. Both boys were immediately reprimanded to close their mouths. Remus hid his smirk behind his glass of pumpkin juice.
He couldn't have predicted the turn his life would take, but James had the foresight to leave something of himself for Harry to find and as he watched Neville and Harry talked excitedly about Hogwarts and wondering which house they would be sorted into, he was very glad James did.
One thing was certain: Where one went, the other was sure to go.
AN: Edited 2/13/25