In which Draco crosses some boundaries, and Neville develops even if he doesn't notice how it happens. All the while, Godric behaves in a manner incomprehensible for many.
Enjoy!
A_A
Ravenclaw was fine. That was all Draco could say if asked. He still shared a dormitory with Nott, so he wasn't completely alone as the ex-Slytherin. The rest... Draco didn't really pay enough attention to them. There was Boot, yes... but that didn't matter. Not truly. Draco mostly pretended to be just fine, replied to considerate words and condolences appropriately, and went on with his day. Friday was good in this case. Draco had something to do. Saturday and Sunday? Not so much. Eventually, he hid behind the curtains of his bed with a book and left only for the bathroom and food. Although, he was rarely hungry recently. He was angry or deep in apathy.
He was angry every time he thought about his parent's murderer: Godric Gryffindor. Therefore, he was angry at the mention of Defence Against the Dark Arts, Mondays, Wednesdays, any of the Founders, Gryffindors, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, and... No. Not at the mention of Potter. This rather made Draco feel guilty. On one hand, he mocked Potter because he was an orphan, his parents, and their death. On the other hand, Potter joined him on the train, and was sorry for him, understood him, but didn't pity him. This only complicated matters.
On Monday morning, Draco had to force himself from the Great Hall to the Defence classroom. He would give everything to not see Godric Gryffindor at any time, and the perspective of being in his presence for two periods was unbearable.
Unlike himself, Draco sat in the last row, far in the corner and improperly laid his head on the folded arms. Alone. That is until he heard the familiar shuffling of Greg's feet and three thumps of bags on the desktop. Three? Draco raised his head to see the intruders. He saw Greg's thoughtless face, Vince's stony expression, and slightly smiling Potter. Of course. He forgot that Vince and Greg found themselves Potter to follow around like ducklings. Though they still joined Draco during Arithmancy. Honestly, Draco couldn't get over his admiration for them finding the classroom.
"Just shut up," Draco muttered to Potter before he managed to open his mouth. Potter shrugged in response and sat down in silence, Vince and Greg between them. Vince, as always, started doodling as soon as he had a quill and a piece of parchment in front of him. The chatter in the classroom was moderate, as neither Ravenclaws nor Hufflepuffs were overly loud. Actually, it was only Gryffindors who were so annoyingly loud. And - of course - Godric Gryffindor. When he started the lesson with his usual cheer, Draco grimaced. Then he just stared at the desk, not even listening to the words.
'Fucking jerk,' he thought, 'Fucking jerky clown. He's not even fucking sorry, just fucking joking around, making a show like a monkey in the circus. Stupid dick.'
Draco didn't even realise when he started glaring angrily at his parent's murderer, and Potter's words rang in his head: 'You could try. I'd try to kill Voldemort, but it's impossible, so I just punched his flat face... He looked stupid just after. Like he couldn't believe it, it was awesome.'
It was awesome. It was awesome. It was awesome.
You could try.
Try!
Draco didn't realise when he decided to stand up, but he stood up. Fists clenched, eyes narrowed, gaze sharp as a dagger aimed straight at Gryffindor.
"You murdered my parents," he said loud enough to be heard, although, for a moment, he was certain it was just a thought in his head. But it wasn't. The class fell silent. It was so silent that if one dropped a pin, it would ring like a bell. "You fucking murdered my parents!"
"Yes, I have killed your parents," Gryffindor replied, no longer smiling like the clown he was. Now, he looked at Draco with the desired seriousness. His voice was calm and strong. He didn't deny it.
"I have killed your parents," Godric repeated when Draco was too lost in his mind to respond instantly.
The tension in the classroom grew so thick that it enveloped everything and everybody. The dropped pin wouldn't be able to reach the floor. It would just hang in the air.
"I'll kill you," Draco spat.
"That is your right," Gryffindor nodded, "You're welcome to try."
You could try.
Try!
It was awesome.
Draco pulled his wand out, aiming it straight at the man. And Gryffindor stood there, just stood and looked at Draco with this seriousness, expectant.
"I have killed your parents," he said for the third time.
And Draco broke. His fingers squeezed the wand tightly, the wrist moved in the movement he had known for ages but which he never used before, and words just slid from the tip of his tongue.
"Avada Kedavra!" He yelled it, not said it. The green light burst out of the wand, powered by Draco's anger. It took a fraction of a second for the beam to reach Gryffindor's chest, but for Draco, it lasted a millennium. But finally, it happened. The spell crushed into the man... and nothing happened.
Draco roared with anger, firing one spell after another, not even looking at whether it worked or not, just hitting again, and again, and again, with everything he knew, for as long as he could, up to the point when his throat was too sore to utter even a word, when he was panting, and so weak... He had to support himself on the desk, with his head hanging between trembling arms.
"Class dismissed. Return for the second period," he heard the distant voice somewhere... somewhere around, but not really there—not in Draco's reality. There was a commotion around, the hushed whispers. Excited and upset
Then there was silence.
Draco sat down heavily. His legs simply couldn't support him any longer.
"You have quite an assortment of curses," this time, the voice was closer, somewhere before Draco. "You just need some practice, and you'll be a formidable opponent. I could teach you. And then you could try again."
You could try.
He did try.
It was awesome.
Yes, it was. It was awesome. Even if not successful.
Draco raised his head.
"If you teach me, I will kill you," he said with a hoarse voice. Weak voice. Shaky voice.
"Yes, you can try," Gryffindor nodded. He was sitting on the chair on the other side of the student's desk, just in front of Draco. Still serious. "Do you want to learn?"
Draco inclined his head.
"Yes," he said somewhere on the border between exhaustion and tears. "And I will kill you."
"Very well. Give me your schedule."
Draco picked up his bag and, with shaky hands, started looking for a calendar for this year. He pulled it out and finally opened it on the schedule. It took a long time, but he pushed it towards Gryffindor. The man was somehow blurry when he mused over Draco's plan. Then he reached for the quill left on the desktop by Greg.
"Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, an hour before dinner," Gryffindor announced. Then he handed Draco something. A handkerchief. And Draco realised he was crying. Not sobbing, just his cheeks were wet from tears.
"I know you hate me," Godric said, "I still hate those who killed my family. And I know you want revenge. That's your right. And nothing will change it. No matter what your ministry says, no matter what other people think, and no matter what I say next. Are we clear on that?"
Draco swallowed heavily and nodded.
"Yes," he repeated. His throat hurt.
"Drink," Gryffindor said, handing him a glass of water. From wherever it came, Draco emptied it.
"You must understand something else. That is something we already explained to Harry. He still doesn't understand, but he will with time. And so will you. When someone attacks intending to hurt, he must realise that the other side will not stand silent waiting to be hurt. They will defend themselves. The person that will end up hurt may be the one who attacked in the first place. That is why I don't feel guilty for killing your parents. I have killed enough people not to be able to count. And I don't feel guilty because of most of them either. Because they attacked, because it was a war, because I wouldn't blame them if they would have killed me. That is a risk you take when you enter a fight. And that is what I will repeat for as long as it takes until you will understand."
When he was done speaking, he just sat there, and Draco was stuck in his place, mostly void of thoughts, but yes, feeling quite good. Or at least better than before.
He wasn't entirely sure how much time had passed before Gryffindor stood up from his chair, but it seemed quite long. The man leaned forward, placed a hand on Draco's cheek and lifted his head up.
"You did good today," he said. "But you look like crap. Do you want to stay for the rest of the class?"
Draco shrugged, then nodded, and shrugged again. Gryffindor hummed, took out his wand, and before Draco could react, he cast a refreshing charm and a few others on Draco's face.
"Better," the man nodded. "Much better. No matter whether you stay or go, I want to see you here an hour before dinner. Clear?"
Draco confirmed, got a pat on the arm, and then he was left alone at his desk. He considered leaving but stayed not long after fourth-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws returned to the classroom, and with them, the whispering and agitation. Maybe he should have gone when he had a chance.
"If I hear one person holding today's event against Draco, you will have a lot of trouble," Gryffindor announced. "Someone remind me, where were we?"
Neville had Defence Against the Dark Arts with Slytherins, so he wasn't a witness to what Draco Malfoy did, but by lunch, it was the talk of the school. It seemed rather improbable that he used a killing curse and a plethora of other dark curses, but everybody who was there swore on what they held dear that this was exactly what happened.
Whatever they thought, Nevill didn't flow with the excitement of everybody else. He considered it carefully and didn't voice his opinion on the matter; he only listened to the gossip happening around him. And almost everybody gossiped. Neville even saw Professor McGonagall and Sprout talking in hushed voices, looking at Godric, who didn't look like someone who was (allegedly) viciously attacked just this morning. And when he joined Gryffindors at their table, the gossip died down, quickly replaced by the regular laughter and jokes. For some time, at least. Then, Collin Creevey braved the subject everybody had in mind.
"Is it true, sir?" He asked, "Have Draco Malfoy tried...? Did he try to...?"
Apparently, he wasn't brave enough to say the words. But he was braver than anybody else since he at least asked.
"Did he try to avenge his parents' death?" Godric asked, looking at the small boy before him. "Yes."
A few gasps and exclamations followed that statement, and Terrence Higgs (fifth year, former Slytherin who always minded to sit close to the Founder, as Neville noticed) asked with fervour.
"Using the Killing Curse?"
"Very merciful of him," Godric nodded. "He could have gone with the enthralling curse. That's what I did to the man I thought killed my mother... But it wasn't him."
Higgs and a few other Griffindors paled a little, and Neville wondered... he never thought about simply killing Bellatrix Lestrange for what she did to his parents. While thinking about it, he usually wanted to see her in the exact same state. Or worse. So maybe Godric was right, and it was merciful. As far as he knew, the Killing Curse was painful. But nobody lived to tell the tale... Not even Harry, considering what they were told during the Summer.
"I do not blame Draco, and neither should you," Godric said after a moment. "That is his right to seek redress for his parents' fate. It was brave of him to do it openly. Let it be. And when I'm done teaching him, you may see an exciting duel. That boy has an enormous talent, mark my words. Very good wand work... Could you pass me the peas, Lavender? Thank you. Now, do you have any other questions that you'd like answered? I would very much prefer my house not to spread misinformation," he added, winking at Collin. The boy grinned in response. Indeed, a few more questions followed.
Neville listened attentively but remained quiet. He searched for Draco Malfoy, but the former Slytherin turned Ravenclaw clearly skipped lunch. He was, however, present during Transfiguration. Sat quietly in the first row, next to Theodore Nott, and concentrated solely on his notes, ignoring the pursed lips and frown on Professor McGonagall's face.
"Mr Malfoy," she called after ending the lesson. "A word."
It was Neville's turn to furrow because McGonagall had only one reason to keep him behind, and... Neville wasn't entirely certain what he thought about it. He lingered behind, hoping to overhear something, but McGonagall waited for him to leave before starting the conversation with Malfoy. And spelled the doors silent. Despite that, Neville stopped behind the closest plant.
"What are we doing?" Archie asked in a hushed voice, joining Neville.
"I'm not sure," Neville admitted. "Malfoy's there, with McGonagall."
"You think it's about the Killing Curse?" Seamus asked excitedly but also in a whisper. "But Gryffindor said it was okay."
Neville only nodded, and for a moment, they stood behind the plant, waiting.
"He's in trouble," Archie judged, "Dumbledore will never allow him to stay in school after something like..." he broke half a sentence, as the classroom doors opened. McGonagall led Malfoy towards the closest doors. He walked behind her, eyes glued firmly to the floor before him, shoulder squared, tense.
"C'mon," Neville said quietly, and they followed at a reasonable distance. As they went, Neville wondered what he was doing and why, and he thought about how stupid and inconspicuous it was. Every nitwit would instantly know that he and his friends are up to something, so clearly following the deputy headmistress and the student widely accused of trying to murder a professor just this morning. No matter how it looked, it felt like the right thing to do. Because they undoubtedly were heading to the headmaster's office.
At this point, Neville needed nothing more.
"I'm getting Godric," he whispered to his friends, and ran towards the Defence classroom. He heard two pairs of shoes hitting the stone floors just behind him, as they ran.
The cuckoo clock struck four in the afternoon. The candy wrapper rustled. Albus Dumbledore popped a lemon drop into his mouth. As the sweetly sour taste caressed his taste buds, the wheels of the bright brain turned intensely. He had the last few moments to check whether the steps that he thought appropriate for this situation were indeed correct.
To say that the headmaster of Hogwarts was terrified when he heard about a student using one of the Unforgivables during the lesson was an understatement. Even Tom Riddle has never dared to make such a blatant display of his tendencies. When he heard the name of the student and the intended victim, the matter became a little more clear. It was, of course, understandable that a child of such a family would know the spell. It was also understandable that at the young age of fourteen, he would suffer immensely because of not only the company but also the tutelage of his parent's murderer. Nonetheless, even if the punishment for the intended murder and the use of the Unforgivable curse wouldn't be the life sentence in Azkaban due to the boy's age and circumstances, was Albus allowed to leave him in Hogwarts? Was he obliged to the parents and the board to expel him and report the crime? Sometimes, the soul to be lost could be corrected for the right path. However, sometimes, the soul should be allowed to fall like a branch of a tended tree.
Three decisive, consecutive knocks announced the arrival of Minerva and the said soul.
"Ah," Albus smiled genially, "Thank you, Minerva."
She nodded and left, with the last condemning look at the boy. He didn't move but stood in place, stubbornly looking at the floor.
"Please, sit down, Draco," Albus invited him kindly, gesturing towards the chair. The boy sat, but his gaze was firmly and shamefully diverted, boring the hole in the carpet before him. Albus considered him carefully before saying, "I was alerted to the incident that took place this morning, and you must imagine how perturbed I was about what I heard... Would you mind telling me what really happened during your Defence lesson?"
Draco Malfoy remained quiet. His knuckles whitened from the pressure he applied to the armrests of his chair. Albus gave him a moment, but no words came out of the lips pressed tight, so Albus tried again.
"I can more than imagine how dreadful these last weeks were for you, my boy," he said gently. "Do not mind my relationship with your parents. Whatever it was, it concerned the living, and it is of no consequence for the pain you must be in."
At the words, the boy shot him an angry glare, and although he said no word, his mind screamed.
The train wheels rattled loudly; the cart shook slightly; Harry Potter sat before him.
"You could try," he said. And then, "It was awesome."
Not the whole situation, only a glimpse at the pieces of a distorted conversation, a fragment tore of the context. And the persistent thought circling around it, the deep conviction that it was awesome, that it was worth it. Even if he gets expelled. Even if... the second even if was lost for Albus, as Draco Malfoy again looked at the floor, the muscles of his jaw so tense, that Albus wouldn't be surprised to hear the gritting of his teeth.
"Let me help you, Draco," Albus said softly, "That doesn't have to end badly."
The boy twitched. His eyes minutely darted up, too short for Albus to catch something more, but the slight hope was visible in the boy's features. It seemed that Draco would speak, that he would talk given just a little more time, just a fraction...
The doors opened without so much as a knock, and the broad smile of Godric Gryffindor entered the room, seemingly proceeding his whole persona. Considering how fondly Albus thought about him when he remained dead, his feelings became significantly frostier when he popped out alive and lively. So frustratingly friendly.
"You should be resting before our evening lesson, Draco," Gryffindor said jovially, "You can catch up with the headmaster later. Adults must adult for a moment if you'd leave us."
Astonished, Albus noticed that the boy relaxed minimally in the presence of his parents' murderer.
"Of course, sir," he said with a forced calm, immediately standing up. "Thank you for your time, headmaster," he added respectfully but seemingly to the floor.
"You're always welcome in my office, Draco," Albus replied warmly, keeping up a pleasant smile even after the boy left (quite hastily). "What can I help you with, Godric?"
"Nothing," the man shrugged, "I just wanted to release the boy from the unnecessary conversation. Thank you for your time, headmaster," he added cheerfully, winking at Albus and leaving the office.
The silence that fell after the doors shut lasted for a long time before Albus reached for another candy and a quill. There was much to be done.
"Good job," Godric patted Neville's arm. "I need to go back to my fifth years, but reserve some time for me after dinner. I have an idea. Thank you, boys," he added toward Seamus and Archie. And with that, he strode down the corridor, leaving three Gryffindors beaming with pride.
When Godric led Neville out of the castle, it was still bright, and a good couple of hours were left till dusk. They walked along the edge of the forest, heading towards the hills rockier than the delicate ground of Hogwarts meadows, looking for a place for Neville's Yggdrasil. Not looking blindly, as - judging from what Neville told him - Godric had a couple of ideas. All they had to do now was to make a hike and choose something. Neville considered them one after another as they walked, having more and more questions, yet he struggled for a long time before asking the one that was bugging him the entire time.
"Can I really plant it on the grounds?" Neville asked, disbelief clear in his voice. "Nobody will mind?"
"Of course not!" Godric assured lightly. "Just find a spot you like, and we'll plant it during the weekend... A funny thing, the weekend. And do you think anybody would tear out Yggdrasil from the ground once it's planted? If we'd allow it, that is?"
"No!" Neville exclaimed in honest indignation. "Nobody would dare to... Oh," he laughed awkwardly, seeing the amused gaze of Godric.
"See?" The man said. "So why do you even care? I'm willing to bet you that with everything people think of nowadays, we could plant the second Druidhean Forrest, and no one would notice."
Neville didn't look so certain and didn't seem convinced that such a bet would be a good idea. Deep inside him, the thought of planting the entire forest sounded like the best idea in the world.
"Where would we even do that?" he asked carefully.
"Here, of course. We would just help the Druidhean Forrest to take up a quarter of the space it took then..."
"You miss it," Neville noticed softly.
"Of course I do. Come, let me show you something."
They increased the pace, Godric long strides forcing Neville to almost run to keep up. The hike wasn't long, fortunately for unaccustomed Neville, especially since it became quite steep at some point. When they stopped, and Neville finally was able to catch up with breathing, he noticed only a quite unimpressive stone rubble. However, under the command of Godric's wand, the rocks organized themselves neatly as the uneven platform. Ushered on it, Neville gasped, feeling that it was slowly rising from the ground. He wasn't that good with heights...
"You're a wizard," Godric said, noticing Neville's expression. "Do you know the cushioning charm?"
"Um..." the boy managed.
"That's the only thing you need to never again be afraid of heights. Because what you actually fear is falling down and hitting the ground, isn't it?"
Neville nodded slowly.
"That, and... And.. uncle Algie... Um... He threw me off places to make me do magic sometimes. So... it's stuck. A bit... A lot."
"Tardy, Tickle-brained Tewkesbury mustard," Godric muttered, causing Neville to chuckle. Whatever that meant, it sounded funny. "I swear Algie doesn't want to meet me," Godric added in terms of explanation, although it didn't explain much of his words to Neville. "Pick up your wand. The incantation is Mulliare. There's a wand movement, but I swear that if you shout it repeatedly while falling down and wave your hands around, it'll work. So now... don't look down, look at my hands and copy the movement."
Neville quickly looked where he was supposed to because as slowly the distance from the ground grew - it grew too quickly. He swallowed, carefully copying the gesture and repeating the words. Every time his concentration broke for even a split of the second, Godric brought it back to the exercise. In the meantime, the platform composed of loose stones raised along the rock faces higher and higher, finally ascending to the top of the cliff and setting gently on the soft grass. Neville noticed this only after a moment.
"Just look at that, nobody fell down, and we aren't all panting after the climb," Godric smiled at him. Truth be told, Neville had a feeling that he was the only one to fear the height and the only one who would be panting, but he appreciated the gesture, and replied with a small, uncertain smile. In response Godric ruffled his hair, and gestured towards the valley, now prominent before them.
Neville never saw Hogwarts from this perspective. It lay far beneath their feet, a collection of turrets and walls, the glistening lake hid a little behind Hogwarts, extending to the right hand side and slimming to the size of the river flowing in the middle of Hogwarts Valley. And to the right he could see Hogsmeade and the Forbidden Forest, actually looking smaller, significantly smaller, than Neville ever imagined it to be.
"That... that's it?" he asked quietly. "That's the whole forest?"
"Now, yes. But it used to grow over the entire area north of Hogwarts, as far as the mountains allowed. And to the south, it almost reached the sea. And it was only the part of the larger forest which extended far beyond the Hogwarts Valley, making the entire mountain range incredibly hard to access... And now look, we could plant trees on the far north and east of the forest, as far as possible, and then extend it to the southeastern part, over there, see? Do you think anybody would notice?"
Neville considered that for a small while.
"It would make the forest more than twice as big as it is. Of course, somebody would notice."
"Only the inhabitants of the forest. If anybody else notices, I'll wear whatever Augusta deems appropriate for the whole summer. Including cufflinks."
Neville laughed and shrugged.
"It'll be fun watching that," he replied, extending his hand, but Godric stopped him.
"And when you lose?"
"If I lose," Neville corrected him cheekily. "And... I don't know. I could wear what grandma makes me?"
"You do it anyway," Godric waved it off, "But... you could wear anything but what she makes you."
That suggestion made Neville waver, his smile faltering. But he glanced at the enormous area Godric wanted to plant with trees unnoticed and shrugged.
"It's a bet," he said, and they shook hands, both convinced that the other had no chance of winning, but Neville was actually afraid of what would happen if he lost and doubted even the possibility of planting that many trees... Would he really do that? And there was one more doubt in his head, a fear that bloomed this morning, which he was careful not to verbalise even in his thoughts.
Godric levitated the rocky platform to the height of Neville's hips and sat on its edge. Neville joined him. The atmosphere of the evening crept on them, the sun ready to kiss the horizon, and Neville explained what kind of trees could grow here, nudged by Godric's interest. There were plenty of possibilities, but Godric liked the idea of oaks out of the non-magical trees.
"I told you before that magic is ever-present in nature. It was widely believed in my times that forests are the reservoir of magic, and oaks generate this ever-present amount. Although Rowena thinks that everything with leaves will do, and oaks are just big enough and old enough to make it noticeable," he explained his preference.
The magical trees had plenty of weird expectations. The unicorn hazel grew only in the places visited by unicorns, while unicorns rarely visited any places void of unicorn hazel. The maiden tree or whispering birch could be planted to lure the unicorns, allowing the growth of the unicorn hazel. Although Neville was quite certain that he heard of unicorns in the Forbid... Druidhean Forrest. Actually, as much as Neville loved the idea of planting new magical trees around, he was more excited about allowing the natural expansion of the existing forest, and that tricked Godric into such a long explanation with so many digressions and little stories that those last moments of the day came and went unnoticed.
They remained seated on the platform while it slowly descended to the foot of the cliff. When Neville cast Lumos to not trip over the stones of the path leading them down, Godric shook his head. And as much as Neville was accustomed to the wonders of magic, as much as he grew to love plants and their magical properties, he didn't expect what happened next. Godric instructed him to kneel and place his hand on one of the rocks. It was scratchy not only from the nature of the stone but also from the lichen blooming on its surface.
"Think of the path back to the castle," Godric said, "And say soillseachadh."
Neville did so, although hesitantly, to watch in amazement as the lichen slowly grew light. Not much, just enough to barely illuminate the sides of his fingers. But it spread further from the stone touched by Neville, as if infectious for other lichens and mosses in proximity. Slowly, the area around them became clearly visible in the faint light coming from every overgrown surface. Sometimes only spreading on the sides of the path, sometimes climbing as far as the crown of the tree, blooming in patches.
"Can it do that everywhere?" Neville asked quietly.
"In every magical forest," Godric nodded, clearly content with the reaction he caused. They slowly moved down the hill. Neville too engrossed with what he saw to talk about anything, Godric allowing the pleasant silence to last for some time. Very atypical of him. And he didn't last long.
"Do you think any of the places we saw today are good for your Yggdrasil?" He asked.
"Um... the third one, I think. I mean, the first two are too close to the castle, and the rest a little too far for walking there so often or too close to the cliffs. We'd risk a collapse when the roots grow stronger."
Godric nodded, looking at the boy with a smile. Neville still talked little, at least in the presence of adults, and he still used words indicating uncertainty, waver, the need to explain or justify himself, but the note of confidence was more and more often present in his tone.
"Do we plant it on Saturday? Can it be planted now?"
"It's a great time, actually," Neville assured, "There will be no more heatwaves this year, so it can start rooting and growing. It will probably jump high before winter; from what I've read, it'll have to thicken the bark for the winter; it'll make it heavier but more solid for the spring growth sprout when the roots will have a head start before the height. I mean, normally, they would wait for leaves so they can start properly feeding, but Professor Sprout lent me the book last year, and there was a mention of the potions that could stimulate the growth of roots. I mean... it was written in the context of multi-faced maples, but with the correct adjustments, it would work well... I just have to find someone to make the adjustments..."
"Why not do it yourself?" Godric raised his eyebrows.
"Oh," Neville reddened so deeply that it was visible even in the faint light of the leeches and mosses. "I... I'm... I'm actually as bad as potions as possible..."
"Nonsense," Godric waved his hand, "Not with your herbology knowledge."
"Um... Yes... That helps," Neville admitted, and almost whispering, added, "But I'm really clumsy, and Professor Snape really doesn't like me..."
Godric hummed in response, noting to talk about it with Severus Snape directly. Neville certainly downplayed his possibilities.
"We'll see. You can always ask Draco for help with the matter. He seems to know his way around the cauldron."
It was Neville's turn to humm, as something stirred inside him.
Suddenly, he asked a little louder and more aggressive than intended, "He's not going to... to hurt you, is he?"
"No, of course not. And even if he does, that's what the Horcrux is for. But no, his chances are really slim. Even if I make him the fiercest dueller in the world, it's extremely hard to hurt me. And if he does, well... Rowena will just pop me back to life," he laughed and pulled Neville under his arm, hugging the boy shortly without stopping. "But I appreciate that you asked."
Neville tensed only a little, slowly growing used to Godric's tendency to hair ruffling, arm patting, and hugging. In all honesty, it was a weird experience to be hugged. It's not like he was never hugged, but Augusta wasn't the warmest of the grandmothers, and she usually hugged him when he thanked him for the Yule gift or when he came back from Hogwarts, and it was a restrained, proper hug like she'd learn how to do it from the etiquette book. Never so spontaneous or generous as when Godric did it. Neville almost panicked the first time when he was crushed in the bear-like hug, the air squeezed out of him. But it felt... nice. Warm. And Neville liked it.