Neville Longbottom and the Philosopher's Stone -- 1
A/N: I've always thought Harry had a good chance of being decent at Potions. I revised 'decent' to 'excellent' in OOTP, and even more so in HBP, where he shows that he is fully capable of performing brilliantly in a subject he does not remotely understand. I'm operating on the conceit that Harry has the same sort of potential as his mother -- just different motivation, thanks to a truly appalling teacher and a friend who prevents him from ever needing to learn anything.
Cast of Characters
Neville Longbottom, son of Frank Longbottom and Alice Gamp, the Boy-Who-Lived. Ward of his godmother, Lily Potter, and his father’s second cousin, James Potter.
Harry Potter, son of James Potter and Lily Evans. Raised alongside Neville.
Arcturus Black, patriarch of the Black family, retired from public life. Reinstated his grandson Sirius as his heir after the Dark Lord’s fall.
Melania (Macmillan) Black, Arcturus’ delicate wife, Sirius’ grandmother, nominal mistress of the house.
James Potter, son of Charlus Potter and Dorea Black. A wealthy aristocrat and Ministry employee, authority of the family.
Sirius Black, son of Orion and Walburga Black, heir to the Black fortune and name, best friend of James Potter, godfather of Harry Potter.
Violetta (Bulstrode) Black, grandmother of Cygnus Black, Walburga Black, and James Potter.
Cassiopeia Black, daughter of Violetta Black. Best friends with Hogwarts year-mate and cousin Callidora.
Callidora (Black) Longbottom, Neville Longbottom’s great-grandmother.
Cygnus Black, reclusive son of Pollux Black and Irma Crabbe. Widower of Druella Rosier, father of Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa.
Francis Longbottom, Callidora’s son, Neville’s grandfather.
Augusta (Cornfoot) Longbottom, Neville’s grandmother.
Enid (Longbottom) Algernon, Callidora’s daughter, Francis’ sister, Neville’s great-aunt.
Aristodemus ‘Algie’ Algernon, Enid’s husband.
Chloe and Helen Potter, twin daughters of James Potter and Lily Evans, Harry’s younger sisters.
Susan Bones, Draco Malfoy, Daphne Greengrass, Morag MacDougal, Millicent Bulstrode, Hermione Granger, Katherine Rivers, Blaise Zabini, etc, year-mates of Neville’s.
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Chapter One
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place
20 July 1991
Neville Longbottom crept upstairs, hesitating at the door that led to the roof. He took a deep breath, then reached out and twisted the knob.
‘Master Neville! What is you doing?’
‘Shh,’ Neville hissed. She was, thankfully, a Potter elf; it meant that she might listen if he was fast and clever enough. ‘It’s an experiment, Emmy. Harry’s idea,’ he added, since the whole house knew that Harry’s exploits were never so disastrous as Neville’s.
‘What sort of experiment?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘No wands,’ Neville promised. ‘It’s just that I have to get some plants out of the greenhouse. I grew them, after all.’
‘Emmy knows Master Neville is growing his own weeds,’ Emmy conceded.
‘They’re not weeds, Emmy, they’re . . . oh, never mind. But there’s one that has to be picked under the full moon, and it’s taken me forever -- I had to find the seeds and take care of it and everything, all by myself, just so I could pick it tonight.’ He looked at her pleadingly. ‘I won’t do anything stupid, I promise. Besides, the greenhouse is under the Charm. You know that.’
‘What weed is you needing?’
‘Fluxweed. It’s a mint --’
‘Emmy knows that one.’ Her ears twitched. ‘You has five minutes, then I is telling the Mistress.’
Neville chewed his lip. ‘Which mistress?’
‘The Mistress,’ she said, then blinked her enormous brown eyes. ‘You is wasting time, Master Neville.’
He flung the door open and raced upstairs to the greenhouse. His greenhouse. It was dirty and overgrown and falling apart when he found it, and he and Harry had cleaned and pruned and planted and done everything, practically all by themselves. But Neville did a lot more, because Harry was only really interested in things that were very hard or very easy and he thought plants were boring, except when he wanted to use one.
Like now. Desperately, Neville turned around, trying to remember which window he’d planted the fluxweed by.
‘Neville! What are you doing at this hour?’
He jumped despite himself. Neville knew the portrait was there; he’d rescued it from a pile of rubble and dead weeds himself, and been rewarded when it turned out to be some Herbologist aunt from the seventeen hundreds. But she usually slept like the dead.
‘Hi, Aunt Persephone. I’m looking for the fluxweed,’ he said, peering in each window.
‘It’s the third over,’ Persephone told him helpfully. ‘Fluxweed on the full moon -- what are you two cooking up now?’
‘Er . . . nothing much.’ Two minutes left. He took out out his shears and carefully snipped at the base of the plant, the moonlight shining brightly through the window.
‘Good luck,’ said the portrait.
‘Thanks!’ Neville wrapped the cuttings up and rushed away, down the winding steps and through the door. When Emmy squinted at him, he extended his hands triumphantly.
‘Oh, go on, Master Neville,’ she said. ‘And don’t you and Master Harry be doing anything you shouldn’t.’
Neville grinned. ‘Never, Emmy,’ he said, and slipped downstairs. They had learnt to be very, very quiet a long time ago, because the only time the portraits didn’t watch them was at night, when they slept, but the slightest noise would wake at least one of them up. And for every Persephone there was someone like Lysandra, who dutifully reported everything she saw, or Phineas Nigellus’ brother Sirius, who was only seven and an awful tattletale. And that wasn’t even mentioning Weird Walburga. Neville shuddered at the thought.
He nearly fainted in relief when he made it to the basement safely. Harry was already there, with his wild hair and square glasses looking like a mad alchemist as he bent over the two bubbling cauldrons.
‘Hi, Harry,’ said Neville, hurrying over.
‘Oh, there you are,’ Harry said, looking relieved. ‘Did everything go fine?’
‘Yeah. Aunt Persephone was awake, but she helped me, and everybody else was sleeping. Well, except Emmy.’ He scowled. ‘She almost kept me from getting to the greenhouse, and she threatened to tell Aunt Melania if I was gone more than five minutes.’
‘Aunt Melania? That’s low,’ Harry said admiringly. ‘But you’ve got it?’
‘Yeah.’ Neville swallowed. ‘We won’t get in trouble, will we?’
‘Nah,’ said Harry. ‘It’s not dangerous or anything.’ He gazed at the bubbling potions with satisfaction. ‘Ready?’
Neville began chopping up the fluxweed. Harry stirred the potions every few minutes, and pored over the Blacks’ tattered copy of Most Potente Potions the rest of the time.
‘Here you go, Harry,’ said Neville, and crossed his fingers, backing away from the potions. Harry had amazing reflexes and could dash under the table at a moment’s notice, but Neville, well, he was slower. Lots slower.
‘Ha!’ Harry cried as he flicked a bit of fluxweed into the second cauldron. Neville cautiously approached. The potions looked exactly like the book said they should. An ugly sticky mass that would probably take forever to scrub out.
‘Where’s your hair?’ Neville asked.
‘Right there,’ said Harry. ‘And yours?’
‘Er . . . ow!’ Neville rubbed his head. ‘You could’ve waited.’
‘No point,’ Harry said blithely. ‘Well, this is it.’
Neville nodded, staring at the still identical potions. Potions and Herbology were the only magic they were really supposed to do. Since Neville was good with plants and Harry was good at, well, what he called ‘interesting stuff’ (which translated out of Harry speak, meant anything that might blow up if he made a mistake), it generally worked out. Neville managed the ingredients and Harry put them together and their little lab, a present from Harry’s great-grandmother Violetta on their eighth birthdays, was still intact. Once or twice, Callidora and Cassie had even made them bottle some of their best work up and show it to Arcturus, and terrifying as it was, there was no thrill quite like hearing the cantankerous old man say, ‘Well done.’
Of course, they wouldn’t be showing anybody this. They knew from Harry’s cousin Dora, who had just finished her seventh year and was going to be an Auror, that Most Potente Potions was in the Restricted Section at Hogwarts, and that was usually a pretty good sign that James would get upset about it, and maybe Melania or Callidora, and definitely Mrs Longbottom if she found out.
Harry dropped one hair to each potion. They began bubbling and frothing madly, Neville’s turning dull yellowish brown and Harry’s an eye smarting lime green.
‘Brilliant,’ Harry breathed.
‘I s’pose we should test it,’ said Neville. ‘You know, just to be sure, and all that.’
They grinned at each other. ‘Oh, definitely. Wouldn’t want to turn into a cat or something.’ Harry carefully ladled a bit of each into the phials they’d prepared. After giving them time to cool, Neville picked up the one labelled PJ--H, and downed it.
‘Eww.’ The sludge went down his unwilling throat, Neville coughing and gasping as horrible convulsions overwhelmed him. He could see Harry’s skin bubbling and stretching before his eyes -- and then it was over.
They gaped at each other. Harry was a few inches shorter, with a head of thick mousy hair, round cheeks, and bright blue eyes. On his forehead was a small, jagged white scar. It was the same image Neville saw in the mirror every morning.
‘This is awesome,’ he said, but the voice that came out was softer and lower than his own. The other-Neville -- Harry -- laughed, and it came out in Neville’s nervous giggle.
‘Incredible,’ he said. ‘Okay, we’ll want a couple of these. Three phials a piece, you think?’
‘Er . . . Harry,’ said Neville, ‘what are we doing this for? I mean, besides to prove that we can.’
‘Hogwarts, Neville,’ said Harry, pouring the Neville potion into phials. ‘What if we’re in different houses? We can pretend to be each other, and . . . well, I’m sure we’ll figure something to do. We’ll keep our phials around, just in case.’
‘Oh,’ said Neville. He really couldn’t imagine it being at all useful to turn into Harry, but then, cunning plots had never really been his strong point. ‘But . . . Harry, I might not go.’
‘What?’ Harry squeaked. ‘Think Dad’ll send you to Durmstrang?’
Neville chuckled at the thought, but sobered quickly. ‘No, I mean . . . I’m not like you, Harry. I’ve never turned Cousin Walburga’s hair blue, or appeared in some room nobody had heard of, or . . . or anything.’
‘You’re brilliant with Herbology, though. And on purpose, too, which is still better. Any half-witted wizard can go around with that sort of stuff.’
‘Yeah, well, maybe I’m not a wizard.’ There. It was out.
Harry stared at him with Neville’s eyes. ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’
Neville went on doggedly, ‘I mean, remember when Uncle Sirius let us try out a few spells on his wand? Nothing ever worked right for me. My Lumos turned every light in the room off. My Scourgify melted your cauldron.’
‘Well, obviously the wand wasn’t suited to you.’
‘I tried my dad’s wand, too,’ Neville said, suddenly miserable. ‘Nothing worked right.’
‘You’ll get your own wand,’ Harry told him, putting a stopper in the last phial. ‘You’ll be fine then.’
‘I don’t think so. What if I’m a Muggle, Harry?’
Harry put the last phial in the potions rack. ‘Neville, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. First, you’re a pureblood. You can’t be a Muggle. The only thing you can be is a Sq-- ’
‘Shh,’ Neville cried. ‘You know we’re not allowed to say that word. Think what Gran would say!’
‘Yeah, well, she’s not my gran,’ said Harry. ‘Dad never said I couldn’t say it.’
‘I bet Uncle Arcturus would go spare if he heard you, though. And he is your uncle, or whatever it is.’
‘First cousin twice removed.’ Harry frowned. ‘That’s not the point. The thing is, you wouldn’t be a Muggle -- you can’t be. You’d be a S-word. But you’re not. I mean, if you give a . . . a nonmagical person a wand, it doesn’t do crazy things like with you. It doesn’t do anything at all, because they’re not magical, see? Or if a Muggle tried to work with magical plants -- or make potions -- he wouldn’t be able to. A potion isn’t just a stew made out of weird stuff and put in a cauldron, Neville. It’s magic. It’s the same with Herbology. Speaking of going spare, what do you think Aunt Persephone would say if you called her a gardener? She’s not. And that’s not what you’re doing. I mean, you grew a Devil’s Snare.’
Neville sighed. ‘You’re right, I guess.’
‘You notice I didn’t mention the Boy-Who-Lived thing,’ Harry added, smiling slyly. Neville snorted.
‘Thanks, Harry.’ He stared at the carpet. ‘It’s just . . . I know that Uncle Algie and Aunt Enid . . . and Gran . . . are wondering. ’Cause I’ve never done anything accidental. I even heard them talking about it once.’
‘You’re too happy, that’s the thing.’ Harry set the extra Polyjuice aside and began cleaning up. ‘I mean, I’ve only done it when I was really scared or angry or something.’
‘You lit my Devil’s Snare on fire,’ Neville reminded him.
Harry grinned. ‘That’d go in the “really scared” category.’
-----
‘Dad!’
‘Uncle James, guess what? Guess what I did?’ Neville was practically jumping up and down, his face wreathed in smiles. ‘You’ll never guess what I did.’
‘Daddy, Daddy!’ the twins chorused, trailing Harry and Neville. ‘Guess what Neville did? He went down the stairs!’
‘Shh,’ Harry hissed at his sisters. ‘It’s Neville’s story.’
Helen stuck her tongue out but obeyed. Chloe shovelled food in her mouth to keep from talking.
After the requisite pause, Neville pronounced, ‘I fell down the staircase.’
The adults stared at him. ‘He bounced,’ Harry added hurriedly. ‘Really bounced. It was magic, I saw it.’
‘Me too!’ said Helen. ‘I saw, and so did Chloe!’
Chloe, desperate not to be left out, tried to swallow so fast she nearly choked. ‘Yeah, I saw him too,’ she said. ‘He was just like a Bludger.’
Enid burst into tears, but nearly everybody else got up and surrounded Neville to offer congratulations.
‘Good for you, m’boy,’ said Violetta, pounding him on the back. Neville gasped for breath. Her one hundred and nine years hadn’t noticably weakened her. ‘Knew you had it in you.’ She smiled. ‘Tried any interesting potions lately?’
Harry and Neville turned scarlet, which fortunately went unnoticed by practically everybody.
‘This is a rite o’ passage in a young man’s life, this is,’ Algie declared. ‘We’ve got to celebrate!’
‘We’ll get you a proper wand,’ Sirius told him, winking. ‘You’ll be all right then.’
‘After you get your letter, and not a day before,’ Arcturus pronounced. ‘Any half-witted wizard . . .’
‘Neville’s not half-witted, Uncle Arcturus,’ Chloe cried. ‘Neville’s smart, you’ll never guess what we saw him do --’
Helen jabbed her in the ribs. Arcturus’ brows shot up.
‘Emmy!’ James said, and the house elf materialised. ‘We’re going to need pumpkin juice, I think . . . and cake . . .’
‘And trifle!’ Harry shouted. ‘That’s Neville’s favourite!’
‘And trifle, for our young wizard here,’ James finished, smiling at Neville, who beamed. Melania sniffled.
‘They’ve all grown up so fast,’ she said, her voice wavering. ‘And now Harry and Neville are going to Hogwarts!’
‘Thank the good Lord,’ Arcturus muttered. Her eyes widened.
‘Arcturus!’
Neville grinned to see the dignified Black patriarch looking somewhat sheepish at his gentle wife’s disapproval. ‘Don’t you think they want to go?’
‘A pet,’ said Algie. ‘That’s just what the boy needs. A . . . a toad, that’s what.’
James and Sirius looked horrified.
‘No, no,’ Callidora said. ‘Toads are quite unpopular these days -- though when I was girl . . .’
‘Better an owl,’ Cassie finished firmly. ‘Fashionable, and always useful.’
‘We’ll have to go to Diagon Alley,’ James mused.
Violetta nodded sharply. ‘Never wise to order a pet without seeing it first.’
‘Quite so,’ Callidora agreed. ‘Why, you remember when I got my first pet . . . ’
‘Oh, that vicious snake of yours?’ Cassie shook her head. ‘That thing terrorised half of Slytherin House.’
‘Couldn’t happen to nicer people,’ said Sirius. Violetta boxed his ears.
‘A snake, really?’ Harry’s eyes widened. ‘You can have snakes at Hogwarts?’
Cassie and Callidora laughed. ‘You can when your grandfather’s Headmaster,’ said Cassie.
‘Dad, I want a snake. D’you think Professor Dumbledore would let me? He likes me, don’t you think? Could Grandfather Phineas convince him?’
‘Hmmph,’ said Phineas, appearing in his portrait. ‘Trying to break the rules already, are you?’
‘It’s not breaking the rules when you have permission,’ said Harry. ‘A snake would be so cool. I could talk to him, and --’
‘You’re too old to be telling tales, Harry,’ James said sharply.
‘I’m not!’
‘Harry.’
He subsided, scowling. ‘I’m not lying,’ he muttered.
‘We can’t all go,’ Sirius was saying.
Arcturus sniffed. ‘I have no inclination. A man of my years . . .’
‘Stuff it, boy,’ Violetta said. ‘I’ll be going, of course. There’s a nice pub on Knockturn Alley --’
‘I’m not sure . . . ‘ Callidora murmured shyly. ‘So many people . . .’
‘Oh, you’ll love it,’ Cassie assured her. ‘It’ll do you good to get out again.’
‘Do you think the wards would be affected by too many of us leaving at once?’ Mrs Longbottom asked.
‘I think at least one Longbottom should stay,’ James told her. ‘You, Callidora, Francis, or Enid.’
‘I could . . .’ Callidora began.
‘No, you couldn’t,’ Cassie said. ‘Augusta, I hate to suggest it . . .’
They looked at Neville. ‘Oh!’ he said uncomfortably, ‘er . . . whatever you think best. I mean, I don’t really mind . . . whoever wants to come can. But Gran, if you don’t feel up to it . . .’
‘Not as young as I once was,’ she conceded.
‘Really,’ muttered Violetta. ‘Not a day over eighty and --’
‘All right then,’ James said, his voice rising above the hubbub. ‘Sirius and I, Harry and Neville, Enid and Algie, Cassie and Callidora are coming to Diagon Alley -- Arcturus and Mrs Longbottom will be at Grimmauld Place --’
‘I’ll stay with Augusta,’ Francis announced, with a glance at his wife’s pinched face.
‘Then Mr Longbottom and Uncle Cygnus will stay here as well; Grandmother Vi is coming . . .’
Every head swivelled to stare at Melania. She blinked. ‘I think . . . I should like . . .’ She glanced timidly at her husband. ‘Arcturus, do you think I should go?’
‘Whatever you want,’ he told her gruffly, but cracked a smile. ‘Your people will be there, they’ve got someone going this year, that boy of Clarence’s . . . Leonard?’
‘Ernest,’ she said. ‘Oh, I would like to see everyone again, and all our old haunts.’
‘I want to go too!’ Helen burst out. ‘Uncle Sirius, can’t I?’
‘And me!’ Chloe added, not to be outdone. ‘We’ve hardly ever left the house. We’re not babies any more, we’re almost nine --’
‘Shall we bring the house elves along too, Dad?’ Harry asked brightly. ‘They can carry a sign. “Cower before the might of the Black Army or perish!” ’
Neville snickered. ‘I don’t think that’s the impression we want to give, Harry.’
‘Oh, right; I forgot, you conquered the Dark Lord. It should be more like, “Noble hero of wizardkind and family.” We’ll have to invite Aunt Andromeda and Dora along for the proper effect, though.’
‘And the other one, Dora’s sister with the normal name.’
‘Danae,’ said Harry. ‘At least, I think it’s Danae.’
Mrs Longbottom said firmly, ‘That’s quite enough out of you two.’
‘And no, you may certainly not go,’ James told his daughters. ‘You’ll have your time when you’re ready to go to Hogwarts.’
‘But Dad, that’s not for three years,’ Helen complained.
‘Yeah. We’re only a little younger than Harry and Neville --’
‘Two years, three months, and a day,’ Neville and Harry chorused.
‘It’s not fair,’ said Chloe, sticking her lip out.
‘How you can live here and think life is fair, I have no idea,’ Violetta snapped. ‘Be quiet, and do as you’re told -- and remember who you are.’
One black head and one red bent together as they attemped to puzzle this out.
‘So who’s coming?’ Cassie looked at her cousin. Callidora chewed her lip before responding.
‘Aunt Violetta, Melania, you and me, Sirius, James, Enid, Algie, Harry and Neville. Isn’t that right?’
‘Yes, Aunt Callidora,’ James said, and added with a sharp look at his daughters, ‘And no more discussion. Neville-- ’ he scraped his chair out of the way ‘you sit right there.’ He conjured up a highly ornate wooden chair. ‘It’s time to celebrate.’
All the house elves’ desserts appeared before them, and the children cheered.
Cast of Characters
Neville Longbottom, son of Frank Longbottom and Alice Gamp, the Boy-Who-Lived. Ward of his godmother, Lily Potter, and his father’s second cousin, James Potter.
Harry Potter, son of James Potter and Lily Evans. Raised alongside Neville.
Arcturus Black, patriarch of the Black family, retired from public life. Reinstated his grandson Sirius as his heir after the Dark Lord’s fall.
Melania (Macmillan) Black, Arcturus’ delicate wife, Sirius’ grandmother, nominal mistress of the house.
James Potter, son of Charlus Potter and Dorea Black. A wealthy aristocrat and Ministry employee, authority of the family.
Sirius Black, son of Orion and Walburga Black, heir to the Black fortune and name, best friend of James Potter, godfather of Harry Potter.
Violetta (Bulstrode) Black, grandmother of Cygnus Black, Walburga Black, and James Potter.
Cassiopeia Black, daughter of Violetta Black. Best friends with Hogwarts year-mate and cousin Callidora.
Callidora (Black) Longbottom, Neville Longbottom’s great-grandmother.
Cygnus Black, reclusive son of Pollux Black and Irma Crabbe. Widower of Druella Rosier, father of Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa.
Francis Longbottom, Callidora’s son, Neville’s grandfather.
Augusta (Cornfoot) Longbottom, Neville’s grandmother.
Enid (Longbottom) Algernon, Callidora’s daughter, Francis’ sister, Neville’s great-aunt.
Aristodemus ‘Algie’ Algernon, Enid’s husband.
Chloe and Helen Potter, twin daughters of James Potter and Lily Evans, Harry’s younger sisters.
Susan Bones, Draco Malfoy, Daphne Greengrass, Morag MacDougal, Millicent Bulstrode, Hermione Granger, Katherine Rivers, Blaise Zabini, etc, year-mates of Neville’s.
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Chapter One
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place
20 July 1991
Neville Longbottom crept upstairs, hesitating at the door that led to the roof. He took a deep breath, then reached out and twisted the knob.
‘Master Neville! What is you doing?’
‘Shh,’ Neville hissed. She was, thankfully, a Potter elf; it meant that she might listen if he was fast and clever enough. ‘It’s an experiment, Emmy. Harry’s idea,’ he added, since the whole house knew that Harry’s exploits were never so disastrous as Neville’s.
‘What sort of experiment?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘No wands,’ Neville promised. ‘It’s just that I have to get some plants out of the greenhouse. I grew them, after all.’
‘Emmy knows Master Neville is growing his own weeds,’ Emmy conceded.
‘They’re not weeds, Emmy, they’re . . . oh, never mind. But there’s one that has to be picked under the full moon, and it’s taken me forever -- I had to find the seeds and take care of it and everything, all by myself, just so I could pick it tonight.’ He looked at her pleadingly. ‘I won’t do anything stupid, I promise. Besides, the greenhouse is under the Charm. You know that.’
‘What weed is you needing?’
‘Fluxweed. It’s a mint --’
‘Emmy knows that one.’ Her ears twitched. ‘You has five minutes, then I is telling the Mistress.’
Neville chewed his lip. ‘Which mistress?’
‘The Mistress,’ she said, then blinked her enormous brown eyes. ‘You is wasting time, Master Neville.’
He flung the door open and raced upstairs to the greenhouse. His greenhouse. It was dirty and overgrown and falling apart when he found it, and he and Harry had cleaned and pruned and planted and done everything, practically all by themselves. But Neville did a lot more, because Harry was only really interested in things that were very hard or very easy and he thought plants were boring, except when he wanted to use one.
Like now. Desperately, Neville turned around, trying to remember which window he’d planted the fluxweed by.
‘Neville! What are you doing at this hour?’
He jumped despite himself. Neville knew the portrait was there; he’d rescued it from a pile of rubble and dead weeds himself, and been rewarded when it turned out to be some Herbologist aunt from the seventeen hundreds. But she usually slept like the dead.
‘Hi, Aunt Persephone. I’m looking for the fluxweed,’ he said, peering in each window.
‘It’s the third over,’ Persephone told him helpfully. ‘Fluxweed on the full moon -- what are you two cooking up now?’
‘Er . . . nothing much.’ Two minutes left. He took out out his shears and carefully snipped at the base of the plant, the moonlight shining brightly through the window.
‘Good luck,’ said the portrait.
‘Thanks!’ Neville wrapped the cuttings up and rushed away, down the winding steps and through the door. When Emmy squinted at him, he extended his hands triumphantly.
‘Oh, go on, Master Neville,’ she said. ‘And don’t you and Master Harry be doing anything you shouldn’t.’
Neville grinned. ‘Never, Emmy,’ he said, and slipped downstairs. They had learnt to be very, very quiet a long time ago, because the only time the portraits didn’t watch them was at night, when they slept, but the slightest noise would wake at least one of them up. And for every Persephone there was someone like Lysandra, who dutifully reported everything she saw, or Phineas Nigellus’ brother Sirius, who was only seven and an awful tattletale. And that wasn’t even mentioning Weird Walburga. Neville shuddered at the thought.
He nearly fainted in relief when he made it to the basement safely. Harry was already there, with his wild hair and square glasses looking like a mad alchemist as he bent over the two bubbling cauldrons.
‘Hi, Harry,’ said Neville, hurrying over.
‘Oh, there you are,’ Harry said, looking relieved. ‘Did everything go fine?’
‘Yeah. Aunt Persephone was awake, but she helped me, and everybody else was sleeping. Well, except Emmy.’ He scowled. ‘She almost kept me from getting to the greenhouse, and she threatened to tell Aunt Melania if I was gone more than five minutes.’
‘Aunt Melania? That’s low,’ Harry said admiringly. ‘But you’ve got it?’
‘Yeah.’ Neville swallowed. ‘We won’t get in trouble, will we?’
‘Nah,’ said Harry. ‘It’s not dangerous or anything.’ He gazed at the bubbling potions with satisfaction. ‘Ready?’
Neville began chopping up the fluxweed. Harry stirred the potions every few minutes, and pored over the Blacks’ tattered copy of Most Potente Potions the rest of the time.
‘Here you go, Harry,’ said Neville, and crossed his fingers, backing away from the potions. Harry had amazing reflexes and could dash under the table at a moment’s notice, but Neville, well, he was slower. Lots slower.
‘Ha!’ Harry cried as he flicked a bit of fluxweed into the second cauldron. Neville cautiously approached. The potions looked exactly like the book said they should. An ugly sticky mass that would probably take forever to scrub out.
‘Where’s your hair?’ Neville asked.
‘Right there,’ said Harry. ‘And yours?’
‘Er . . . ow!’ Neville rubbed his head. ‘You could’ve waited.’
‘No point,’ Harry said blithely. ‘Well, this is it.’
Neville nodded, staring at the still identical potions. Potions and Herbology were the only magic they were really supposed to do. Since Neville was good with plants and Harry was good at, well, what he called ‘interesting stuff’ (which translated out of Harry speak, meant anything that might blow up if he made a mistake), it generally worked out. Neville managed the ingredients and Harry put them together and their little lab, a present from Harry’s great-grandmother Violetta on their eighth birthdays, was still intact. Once or twice, Callidora and Cassie had even made them bottle some of their best work up and show it to Arcturus, and terrifying as it was, there was no thrill quite like hearing the cantankerous old man say, ‘Well done.’
Of course, they wouldn’t be showing anybody this. They knew from Harry’s cousin Dora, who had just finished her seventh year and was going to be an Auror, that Most Potente Potions was in the Restricted Section at Hogwarts, and that was usually a pretty good sign that James would get upset about it, and maybe Melania or Callidora, and definitely Mrs Longbottom if she found out.
Harry dropped one hair to each potion. They began bubbling and frothing madly, Neville’s turning dull yellowish brown and Harry’s an eye smarting lime green.
‘Brilliant,’ Harry breathed.
‘I s’pose we should test it,’ said Neville. ‘You know, just to be sure, and all that.’
They grinned at each other. ‘Oh, definitely. Wouldn’t want to turn into a cat or something.’ Harry carefully ladled a bit of each into the phials they’d prepared. After giving them time to cool, Neville picked up the one labelled PJ--H, and downed it.
‘Eww.’ The sludge went down his unwilling throat, Neville coughing and gasping as horrible convulsions overwhelmed him. He could see Harry’s skin bubbling and stretching before his eyes -- and then it was over.
They gaped at each other. Harry was a few inches shorter, with a head of thick mousy hair, round cheeks, and bright blue eyes. On his forehead was a small, jagged white scar. It was the same image Neville saw in the mirror every morning.
‘This is awesome,’ he said, but the voice that came out was softer and lower than his own. The other-Neville -- Harry -- laughed, and it came out in Neville’s nervous giggle.
‘Incredible,’ he said. ‘Okay, we’ll want a couple of these. Three phials a piece, you think?’
‘Er . . . Harry,’ said Neville, ‘what are we doing this for? I mean, besides to prove that we can.’
‘Hogwarts, Neville,’ said Harry, pouring the Neville potion into phials. ‘What if we’re in different houses? We can pretend to be each other, and . . . well, I’m sure we’ll figure something to do. We’ll keep our phials around, just in case.’
‘Oh,’ said Neville. He really couldn’t imagine it being at all useful to turn into Harry, but then, cunning plots had never really been his strong point. ‘But . . . Harry, I might not go.’
‘What?’ Harry squeaked. ‘Think Dad’ll send you to Durmstrang?’
Neville chuckled at the thought, but sobered quickly. ‘No, I mean . . . I’m not like you, Harry. I’ve never turned Cousin Walburga’s hair blue, or appeared in some room nobody had heard of, or . . . or anything.’
‘You’re brilliant with Herbology, though. And on purpose, too, which is still better. Any half-witted wizard can go around with that sort of stuff.’
‘Yeah, well, maybe I’m not a wizard.’ There. It was out.
Harry stared at him with Neville’s eyes. ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’
Neville went on doggedly, ‘I mean, remember when Uncle Sirius let us try out a few spells on his wand? Nothing ever worked right for me. My Lumos turned every light in the room off. My Scourgify melted your cauldron.’
‘Well, obviously the wand wasn’t suited to you.’
‘I tried my dad’s wand, too,’ Neville said, suddenly miserable. ‘Nothing worked right.’
‘You’ll get your own wand,’ Harry told him, putting a stopper in the last phial. ‘You’ll be fine then.’
‘I don’t think so. What if I’m a Muggle, Harry?’
Harry put the last phial in the potions rack. ‘Neville, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. First, you’re a pureblood. You can’t be a Muggle. The only thing you can be is a Sq-- ’
‘Shh,’ Neville cried. ‘You know we’re not allowed to say that word. Think what Gran would say!’
‘Yeah, well, she’s not my gran,’ said Harry. ‘Dad never said I couldn’t say it.’
‘I bet Uncle Arcturus would go spare if he heard you, though. And he is your uncle, or whatever it is.’
‘First cousin twice removed.’ Harry frowned. ‘That’s not the point. The thing is, you wouldn’t be a Muggle -- you can’t be. You’d be a S-word. But you’re not. I mean, if you give a . . . a nonmagical person a wand, it doesn’t do crazy things like with you. It doesn’t do anything at all, because they’re not magical, see? Or if a Muggle tried to work with magical plants -- or make potions -- he wouldn’t be able to. A potion isn’t just a stew made out of weird stuff and put in a cauldron, Neville. It’s magic. It’s the same with Herbology. Speaking of going spare, what do you think Aunt Persephone would say if you called her a gardener? She’s not. And that’s not what you’re doing. I mean, you grew a Devil’s Snare.’
Neville sighed. ‘You’re right, I guess.’
‘You notice I didn’t mention the Boy-Who-Lived thing,’ Harry added, smiling slyly. Neville snorted.
‘Thanks, Harry.’ He stared at the carpet. ‘It’s just . . . I know that Uncle Algie and Aunt Enid . . . and Gran . . . are wondering. ’Cause I’ve never done anything accidental. I even heard them talking about it once.’
‘You’re too happy, that’s the thing.’ Harry set the extra Polyjuice aside and began cleaning up. ‘I mean, I’ve only done it when I was really scared or angry or something.’
‘You lit my Devil’s Snare on fire,’ Neville reminded him.
Harry grinned. ‘That’d go in the “really scared” category.’
-----
‘Dad!’
‘Uncle James, guess what? Guess what I did?’ Neville was practically jumping up and down, his face wreathed in smiles. ‘You’ll never guess what I did.’
‘Daddy, Daddy!’ the twins chorused, trailing Harry and Neville. ‘Guess what Neville did? He went down the stairs!’
‘Shh,’ Harry hissed at his sisters. ‘It’s Neville’s story.’
Helen stuck her tongue out but obeyed. Chloe shovelled food in her mouth to keep from talking.
After the requisite pause, Neville pronounced, ‘I fell down the staircase.’
The adults stared at him. ‘He bounced,’ Harry added hurriedly. ‘Really bounced. It was magic, I saw it.’
‘Me too!’ said Helen. ‘I saw, and so did Chloe!’
Chloe, desperate not to be left out, tried to swallow so fast she nearly choked. ‘Yeah, I saw him too,’ she said. ‘He was just like a Bludger.’
Enid burst into tears, but nearly everybody else got up and surrounded Neville to offer congratulations.
‘Good for you, m’boy,’ said Violetta, pounding him on the back. Neville gasped for breath. Her one hundred and nine years hadn’t noticably weakened her. ‘Knew you had it in you.’ She smiled. ‘Tried any interesting potions lately?’
Harry and Neville turned scarlet, which fortunately went unnoticed by practically everybody.
‘This is a rite o’ passage in a young man’s life, this is,’ Algie declared. ‘We’ve got to celebrate!’
‘We’ll get you a proper wand,’ Sirius told him, winking. ‘You’ll be all right then.’
‘After you get your letter, and not a day before,’ Arcturus pronounced. ‘Any half-witted wizard . . .’
‘Neville’s not half-witted, Uncle Arcturus,’ Chloe cried. ‘Neville’s smart, you’ll never guess what we saw him do --’
Helen jabbed her in the ribs. Arcturus’ brows shot up.
‘Emmy!’ James said, and the house elf materialised. ‘We’re going to need pumpkin juice, I think . . . and cake . . .’
‘And trifle!’ Harry shouted. ‘That’s Neville’s favourite!’
‘And trifle, for our young wizard here,’ James finished, smiling at Neville, who beamed. Melania sniffled.
‘They’ve all grown up so fast,’ she said, her voice wavering. ‘And now Harry and Neville are going to Hogwarts!’
‘Thank the good Lord,’ Arcturus muttered. Her eyes widened.
‘Arcturus!’
Neville grinned to see the dignified Black patriarch looking somewhat sheepish at his gentle wife’s disapproval. ‘Don’t you think they want to go?’
‘A pet,’ said Algie. ‘That’s just what the boy needs. A . . . a toad, that’s what.’
James and Sirius looked horrified.
‘No, no,’ Callidora said. ‘Toads are quite unpopular these days -- though when I was girl . . .’
‘Better an owl,’ Cassie finished firmly. ‘Fashionable, and always useful.’
‘We’ll have to go to Diagon Alley,’ James mused.
Violetta nodded sharply. ‘Never wise to order a pet without seeing it first.’
‘Quite so,’ Callidora agreed. ‘Why, you remember when I got my first pet . . . ’
‘Oh, that vicious snake of yours?’ Cassie shook her head. ‘That thing terrorised half of Slytherin House.’
‘Couldn’t happen to nicer people,’ said Sirius. Violetta boxed his ears.
‘A snake, really?’ Harry’s eyes widened. ‘You can have snakes at Hogwarts?’
Cassie and Callidora laughed. ‘You can when your grandfather’s Headmaster,’ said Cassie.
‘Dad, I want a snake. D’you think Professor Dumbledore would let me? He likes me, don’t you think? Could Grandfather Phineas convince him?’
‘Hmmph,’ said Phineas, appearing in his portrait. ‘Trying to break the rules already, are you?’
‘It’s not breaking the rules when you have permission,’ said Harry. ‘A snake would be so cool. I could talk to him, and --’
‘You’re too old to be telling tales, Harry,’ James said sharply.
‘I’m not!’
‘Harry.’
He subsided, scowling. ‘I’m not lying,’ he muttered.
‘We can’t all go,’ Sirius was saying.
Arcturus sniffed. ‘I have no inclination. A man of my years . . .’
‘Stuff it, boy,’ Violetta said. ‘I’ll be going, of course. There’s a nice pub on Knockturn Alley --’
‘I’m not sure . . . ‘ Callidora murmured shyly. ‘So many people . . .’
‘Oh, you’ll love it,’ Cassie assured her. ‘It’ll do you good to get out again.’
‘Do you think the wards would be affected by too many of us leaving at once?’ Mrs Longbottom asked.
‘I think at least one Longbottom should stay,’ James told her. ‘You, Callidora, Francis, or Enid.’
‘I could . . .’ Callidora began.
‘No, you couldn’t,’ Cassie said. ‘Augusta, I hate to suggest it . . .’
They looked at Neville. ‘Oh!’ he said uncomfortably, ‘er . . . whatever you think best. I mean, I don’t really mind . . . whoever wants to come can. But Gran, if you don’t feel up to it . . .’
‘Not as young as I once was,’ she conceded.
‘Really,’ muttered Violetta. ‘Not a day over eighty and --’
‘All right then,’ James said, his voice rising above the hubbub. ‘Sirius and I, Harry and Neville, Enid and Algie, Cassie and Callidora are coming to Diagon Alley -- Arcturus and Mrs Longbottom will be at Grimmauld Place --’
‘I’ll stay with Augusta,’ Francis announced, with a glance at his wife’s pinched face.
‘Then Mr Longbottom and Uncle Cygnus will stay here as well; Grandmother Vi is coming . . .’
Every head swivelled to stare at Melania. She blinked. ‘I think . . . I should like . . .’ She glanced timidly at her husband. ‘Arcturus, do you think I should go?’
‘Whatever you want,’ he told her gruffly, but cracked a smile. ‘Your people will be there, they’ve got someone going this year, that boy of Clarence’s . . . Leonard?’
‘Ernest,’ she said. ‘Oh, I would like to see everyone again, and all our old haunts.’
‘I want to go too!’ Helen burst out. ‘Uncle Sirius, can’t I?’
‘And me!’ Chloe added, not to be outdone. ‘We’ve hardly ever left the house. We’re not babies any more, we’re almost nine --’
‘Shall we bring the house elves along too, Dad?’ Harry asked brightly. ‘They can carry a sign. “Cower before the might of the Black Army or perish!” ’
Neville snickered. ‘I don’t think that’s the impression we want to give, Harry.’
‘Oh, right; I forgot, you conquered the Dark Lord. It should be more like, “Noble hero of wizardkind and family.” We’ll have to invite Aunt Andromeda and Dora along for the proper effect, though.’
‘And the other one, Dora’s sister with the normal name.’
‘Danae,’ said Harry. ‘At least, I think it’s Danae.’
Mrs Longbottom said firmly, ‘That’s quite enough out of you two.’
‘And no, you may certainly not go,’ James told his daughters. ‘You’ll have your time when you’re ready to go to Hogwarts.’
‘But Dad, that’s not for three years,’ Helen complained.
‘Yeah. We’re only a little younger than Harry and Neville --’
‘Two years, three months, and a day,’ Neville and Harry chorused.
‘It’s not fair,’ said Chloe, sticking her lip out.
‘How you can live here and think life is fair, I have no idea,’ Violetta snapped. ‘Be quiet, and do as you’re told -- and remember who you are.’
One black head and one red bent together as they attemped to puzzle this out.
‘So who’s coming?’ Cassie looked at her cousin. Callidora chewed her lip before responding.
‘Aunt Violetta, Melania, you and me, Sirius, James, Enid, Algie, Harry and Neville. Isn’t that right?’
‘Yes, Aunt Callidora,’ James said, and added with a sharp look at his daughters, ‘And no more discussion. Neville-- ’ he scraped his chair out of the way ‘you sit right there.’ He conjured up a highly ornate wooden chair. ‘It’s time to celebrate.’
All the house elves’ desserts appeared before them, and the children cheered.