FIC: Waiting for Harry
Here we are. This is my first attempt at using lj-cut, so I hope it works. I wrote this fic last summer. Harry Potter fanfiction, set during PofA.
Fic: Waiting for Harry
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: None
Rating: G
Disclaimer: JKR is the supreme goddess and owns anything. I am merely borrowing her characters for fun, and no profit.
Waiting for Harry
“Harry managed to shake Neville off at the Fat Lady by telling him the password then pretending he’d left his vampire essay in the library and doubling back.” J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, page 204-205
Neville Longbottom stood waiting, miserably, in the Entrance Hall, watching as all his classmates prepared to go to Hogsmeade. Filch was checking the list to ensure that no one was trying to sneak out. The hall was buzzing with excitement and anticipation for the day of fun. He heard Seamus laughing with Dean about what sweets they should get at Honeydukes “really, Dean, the cockroach clusters are good ... you should try one...” and Lavender and Parvati were flirting with some of the boys from Ravenclaw, trying to get them to go to Madam Puddifoot’s. In the corner he could see Harry talking with Ron, and felt a stab of guilt. He left the Hall quickly, not being able to bear to look at Ron. After all, it was his own fault that he wasn’t allowed to go to Hogsmeade with the others.
He got his leg stuck in the trick staircase again.
He got lost on the third floor, trying to find his way to Gryffindor Tower. None of the ghosts would help him find his way, and the paintings refused to help too. It seemed the Fat Lady had told Violet, and Violet had told everyone else, that it was his fault that Sirius Black had nearly killed Ron.
They were right, of course.
If he hadn’t been so stupid as to lose the paper with all the passwords...if he had a better memory...if he wasn’t such a squib...maybe his Gran was right, he did bring shame on the whole family...
Neville began to look along the corridor, trying to find something familiar, which would help him find his way back to Gryffindor Tower before Snape found him. He wished Professor Lupin had picked someone else to demonstrate the Boggart - it had made dealing with Snape so much more difficult ...though it was rather funny...
Neville was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice Harry was standing in the third-floor corridor until he knocked into him. He noticed Harry ramming an old, ratty piece of parchment back into his pocket.
“Harry” he said happily, glad he wouldn’t have to be alone today, “I forgot you weren’t going to Hogsmeade either!”
Harry seemed rather preoccupied, but he answered “Hi, Neville, what are you up to?”
“Nothing” he replied timidly. “Want a game of Exploding Snap?” This was wonderful. It was never just him and anyone, and Harry...Harry always had Ron and Hermione - well, just Ron now, they weren’t speaking to Hermione at the moment, ‘cause of Scabbers, and the Firebolt. Neville had always admired Harry, who wouldn’t? Harry had fought You-Know-Who twice, and had rescued Ginny Weasley, and had won the House Cup for Gryffindor two years running, and had defended him in front of Draco Malfoy back in first year...The thought of getting to spend a whole afternoon with Harry was wonderful... but Harry looked rather uncomfortable...
“Er - not now - I was going to go to the library and do that vampire essay for Lupin...”
This was perfect! Harry was really good at DADA, he could help Neville with his essay. They could do their homework together! Harry and Ron always looked like they were having a lot of fun, doing their assignments together...
“I’ll come with you!” he responded enthusiastically. “I haven’t done it either!”
This seemed to make Harry even more uncomfortable than before. Neville thought he could see Harry’s eyes glance at the statue of the one-eyed witch, but all Harry said was:
“Er - hang on - yeah, I forgot, I finished it last night!”
Oh. He had thought Harry was doing his Divination homework with Ron, the night before. Usually all the laughter meant they were dreaming up something for Trelawney. Apparently vampires were really funny too...
“Brilliant, you can help me!” Neville added. He’d been worried about that essay for ages, but if Harry could have had such a fun time writing his with Ron, it couldn’t be too bad... “I don’t understand that thing with the garlic at all, do they have to eat it, or...”
Neville broke off suddenly, for over Harry’s shoulder had swooped the forbidding form that haunted his nightmares and terrorized his
days...Professor Snape.
He gasped. As Harry turned quickly to face Snape, Neville hid behind Harry, trying to fit himself behind Harry’s skinny form.
Snape, his dark eyes glinting, was looking from Neville to Harry, back and forth, back and forth. Neville heard himself whimpering, and tried to hide further behind Harry. He wished he were a brave Gryffindor, but he couldn’t help it, Snape made him go all to pieces...
Snape said, in his cold voice - when Neville imagined the voice of You-Know-Who, it always sounded like Snape - “And what are you two doing here? An odd place to meet ...”
Neville was about to stutter something in their defense, but Harry was already responding, with the tone of barely repressed rage he often had with Snape.
“We’re not meeting here, we just, met here.”
Snape raised an eyebrow, in what seemed to Neville like disbelief...why would Snape think he and Harry had arranged to meet there? And why did Snape’s eyes keep flicking to the statue of the one-eyed witch? Was there something about that witch that he didn’t know about?
“Indeed?” Snape answered Harry. Neville trembled, expecting the cold voice to take points from Gryffindor for rudeness... “You have a habit of turning up in unexpected places, Potter, and you are rarely there for no reason...” Snape’s eyes rested on the one-eyed witch again. Really, what was going on? It was only a statue... “I suggest the pair of you return to Gryffindor Tower where you belong...”
Without a word in answer to Snape, Harry strode down the corridor toward Gryffindor Tower, leaving Neville scrambling in his wake. Harry didn’t look it, but he was very fast. Neville noticed that Harry kept glancing back down the corridor, to where Snape was. He risked a glance himself, and noticed that Snape was examining the statue of the one-eyed witch...what was going on?
Finally, they reached Gryffindor Tower. Neville was glad that Harry was with him. He wouldn’t have wanted to have to stay out in the hallway with the Security trolls leering down at him, waiting for the next student to come along who would give him the password to Gryffindor Tower.
Just as Neville was waiting for Harry to say the password, so that they could go in, and Harry could help him with his essay, Harry suddenly turned to Neville...This is it, Neville thought, pessimistically. This is where he tells me that he really doesn’t want to be around me after what I did to Ron, that I’m a shame to Gryffindor House...here it comes...
But all Harry said was, “Er- Nev, the password’s Flibbertigibbet - I forgot my essay in the library last night - I’ll just go and get it...why don’t you get yours out, and I’ll be back with mine in a flash, okay?”
There had been very few times in Neville’s life where he had felt so relieved. When he had bounced down the garden instead of crushing his skull in, when Great-Uncle Algie had dropped him out of the third floor window, when he had got his Hogwarts letter, when Harry, Ron and Ginny had emerged safe from the Chamber of Secrets...and, now, to find that Harry didn’t hate him, was going to help him write his vampire essay, despite the fact that he had nearly gotten Ron killed...
“Okay, Harry! See you soon!” he said brightly. Harry started to walk back down the staircase. Neville turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady...what did Harry say the password was? Panic. He turned back, and called out to Harry’s retreating back “What’s the password again?”
Harry’s voice floated up from the staircase “Flibbertigibbet”, and then Harry was gone, disappeared around the corner, on his way to the library. Neville quickly said the password, before he forgot it again, and hurried between the trolls into the Gryffindor common room.
The common room seemed deserted. Only a few groups of first and second years were still inside, huddled in armchairs around the fire, and others gathered around tables, working together on essays, debating in hushed voices. Neville hurried up the stairs to the third year boy’s dorm, and quickly ruffled through his trunk, finally pulling out his half- finished essay. He sighed at the sight of all the revisions he had made to it; the blots of ink, the crossed out words. He even saw where he had scribbled ‘what?!!’ in the margins... desperately attempting to convince the theory to make sense...maybe Harry would be able to help him sort out this mess...
Downstairs, he picked a table away from the first and second years, and, spreading his essay before him on the table, he waited for Harry, earnestly watching the portrait hole for any sign of a messy black head emerging...
It didn’t come right away, so Neville got out his textbook as well, and started rifling through it, one eye still fixed on the portrait hole.
By lunch-time, Neville had given up wondering what had happened to Harry, and had begun to suspect that he wasn’t coming back. It made sense really. Why would Harry want to spend a Saturday helping Neville with his homework? He’d probably gone to visit with Hagrid, or something.
He felt a lump form in his throat. He shouldn’t be so surprised. Someone wonderful like Harry wouldn’t want to spend the day with Neville, who would? He was a disgrace to Gryffindor, a disgrace to the Longbottoms... if it had been his father in Gryffindor now, Harry would want to spend the day with him...his father had been a brilliant student, he knew, his Gran had told him...
He blinked away the tears, furious with himself. He was trying not to be the fat cry-baby that Pansy Parkinson had accused him of being back in first year...he would not cry in the common room, not in front of the first and second years...
Really, Harry had been right to leave him. He was useless.
“Neville?” A timid, gentle voice broke through his thoughts. He looked up, startled, into the smiling face of Ginny Weasley. He began to tremble. She hates me, he thought. You nearly killed her brother; of course she hates you! But then, why was she smiling at him?
“I was wondering if you’d help me with my Herbology homework? Hermione usually helps me, but she’s gone to Hogsmeade. She said you were one of the best in the class at it though...” Her smile never wavered, but her brown eyes took on a hopeful gleam. Her ears turned a bit red, in the same way Ron’s did when he was a little embarrassed.
Suddenly the unreality of this situation hit him. She wanted him to help him with her homework...it couldn’t be; it was probably a trick, or a trap...why would anyone want his help with homework...
“Sure!” he was surprised to find he had already answered. Ginny turned an even deeper shade of red, sat down beside him at the table. As she moved Neville’s papers to find a place to put her Herbology books, her eyes strayed onto the blotted and mistake-ridden attempt at a Vampire essay. Neville noticed that her eyes were scanning it; she was reading his essay.
She looked up and him, then back down to the table, clearly more than a bit nervous. Here it comes, he thought. Here’s where she realizes what a squib you are and goes fleeing back to Colin Creevey and the other second years...its coming in a second...
“Um, if you’d like, I could help you with your essay on Vampires...” Her face was a brilliant scarlet, her voice barely more than a whisper. Then, her eyes were meeting his, warm, brown and honest. “I mean, I know I’m only a second year, and we haven’t done Vampires yet, but, um, before I started at Hogwarts I did a lot of research on them...Fred and George had told me that the new students had to defeat a Vampire, and I wanted to be prepared...so I know all about Vampires...no one told me the true nature of the Sorting...they told Ron he had to wrestle a Troll...”
“Sounds like a fair exchange then...” was that him? Did he really just say that? Ginny was smiling at him again, so he must have said it...She was opening her Herbology books, asking about the proper care of an Asian Shrieking plant...and he was answering...
Perhaps, it wasn’t so terrible to not be allowed into Hogsmeade after all.
Fic: Waiting for Harry
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: None
Rating: G
Disclaimer: JKR is the supreme goddess and owns anything. I am merely borrowing her characters for fun, and no profit.
Waiting for Harry
“Harry managed to shake Neville off at the Fat Lady by telling him the password then pretending he’d left his vampire essay in the library and doubling back.” J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, page 204-205
Neville Longbottom stood waiting, miserably, in the Entrance Hall, watching as all his classmates prepared to go to Hogsmeade. Filch was checking the list to ensure that no one was trying to sneak out. The hall was buzzing with excitement and anticipation for the day of fun. He heard Seamus laughing with Dean about what sweets they should get at Honeydukes “really, Dean, the cockroach clusters are good ... you should try one...” and Lavender and Parvati were flirting with some of the boys from Ravenclaw, trying to get them to go to Madam Puddifoot’s. In the corner he could see Harry talking with Ron, and felt a stab of guilt. He left the Hall quickly, not being able to bear to look at Ron. After all, it was his own fault that he wasn’t allowed to go to Hogsmeade with the others.
He got his leg stuck in the trick staircase again.
He got lost on the third floor, trying to find his way to Gryffindor Tower. None of the ghosts would help him find his way, and the paintings refused to help too. It seemed the Fat Lady had told Violet, and Violet had told everyone else, that it was his fault that Sirius Black had nearly killed Ron.
They were right, of course.
If he hadn’t been so stupid as to lose the paper with all the passwords...if he had a better memory...if he wasn’t such a squib...maybe his Gran was right, he did bring shame on the whole family...
Neville began to look along the corridor, trying to find something familiar, which would help him find his way back to Gryffindor Tower before Snape found him. He wished Professor Lupin had picked someone else to demonstrate the Boggart - it had made dealing with Snape so much more difficult ...though it was rather funny...
Neville was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice Harry was standing in the third-floor corridor until he knocked into him. He noticed Harry ramming an old, ratty piece of parchment back into his pocket.
“Harry” he said happily, glad he wouldn’t have to be alone today, “I forgot you weren’t going to Hogsmeade either!”
Harry seemed rather preoccupied, but he answered “Hi, Neville, what are you up to?”
“Nothing” he replied timidly. “Want a game of Exploding Snap?” This was wonderful. It was never just him and anyone, and Harry...Harry always had Ron and Hermione - well, just Ron now, they weren’t speaking to Hermione at the moment, ‘cause of Scabbers, and the Firebolt. Neville had always admired Harry, who wouldn’t? Harry had fought You-Know-Who twice, and had rescued Ginny Weasley, and had won the House Cup for Gryffindor two years running, and had defended him in front of Draco Malfoy back in first year...The thought of getting to spend a whole afternoon with Harry was wonderful... but Harry looked rather uncomfortable...
“Er - not now - I was going to go to the library and do that vampire essay for Lupin...”
This was perfect! Harry was really good at DADA, he could help Neville with his essay. They could do their homework together! Harry and Ron always looked like they were having a lot of fun, doing their assignments together...
“I’ll come with you!” he responded enthusiastically. “I haven’t done it either!”
This seemed to make Harry even more uncomfortable than before. Neville thought he could see Harry’s eyes glance at the statue of the one-eyed witch, but all Harry said was:
“Er - hang on - yeah, I forgot, I finished it last night!”
Oh. He had thought Harry was doing his Divination homework with Ron, the night before. Usually all the laughter meant they were dreaming up something for Trelawney. Apparently vampires were really funny too...
“Brilliant, you can help me!” Neville added. He’d been worried about that essay for ages, but if Harry could have had such a fun time writing his with Ron, it couldn’t be too bad... “I don’t understand that thing with the garlic at all, do they have to eat it, or...”
Neville broke off suddenly, for over Harry’s shoulder had swooped the forbidding form that haunted his nightmares and terrorized his
days...Professor Snape.
He gasped. As Harry turned quickly to face Snape, Neville hid behind Harry, trying to fit himself behind Harry’s skinny form.
Snape, his dark eyes glinting, was looking from Neville to Harry, back and forth, back and forth. Neville heard himself whimpering, and tried to hide further behind Harry. He wished he were a brave Gryffindor, but he couldn’t help it, Snape made him go all to pieces...
Snape said, in his cold voice - when Neville imagined the voice of You-Know-Who, it always sounded like Snape - “And what are you two doing here? An odd place to meet ...”
Neville was about to stutter something in their defense, but Harry was already responding, with the tone of barely repressed rage he often had with Snape.
“We’re not meeting here, we just, met here.”
Snape raised an eyebrow, in what seemed to Neville like disbelief...why would Snape think he and Harry had arranged to meet there? And why did Snape’s eyes keep flicking to the statue of the one-eyed witch? Was there something about that witch that he didn’t know about?
“Indeed?” Snape answered Harry. Neville trembled, expecting the cold voice to take points from Gryffindor for rudeness... “You have a habit of turning up in unexpected places, Potter, and you are rarely there for no reason...” Snape’s eyes rested on the one-eyed witch again. Really, what was going on? It was only a statue... “I suggest the pair of you return to Gryffindor Tower where you belong...”
Without a word in answer to Snape, Harry strode down the corridor toward Gryffindor Tower, leaving Neville scrambling in his wake. Harry didn’t look it, but he was very fast. Neville noticed that Harry kept glancing back down the corridor, to where Snape was. He risked a glance himself, and noticed that Snape was examining the statue of the one-eyed witch...what was going on?
Finally, they reached Gryffindor Tower. Neville was glad that Harry was with him. He wouldn’t have wanted to have to stay out in the hallway with the Security trolls leering down at him, waiting for the next student to come along who would give him the password to Gryffindor Tower.
Just as Neville was waiting for Harry to say the password, so that they could go in, and Harry could help him with his essay, Harry suddenly turned to Neville...This is it, Neville thought, pessimistically. This is where he tells me that he really doesn’t want to be around me after what I did to Ron, that I’m a shame to Gryffindor House...here it comes...
But all Harry said was, “Er- Nev, the password’s Flibbertigibbet - I forgot my essay in the library last night - I’ll just go and get it...why don’t you get yours out, and I’ll be back with mine in a flash, okay?”
There had been very few times in Neville’s life where he had felt so relieved. When he had bounced down the garden instead of crushing his skull in, when Great-Uncle Algie had dropped him out of the third floor window, when he had got his Hogwarts letter, when Harry, Ron and Ginny had emerged safe from the Chamber of Secrets...and, now, to find that Harry didn’t hate him, was going to help him write his vampire essay, despite the fact that he had nearly gotten Ron killed...
“Okay, Harry! See you soon!” he said brightly. Harry started to walk back down the staircase. Neville turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady...what did Harry say the password was? Panic. He turned back, and called out to Harry’s retreating back “What’s the password again?”
Harry’s voice floated up from the staircase “Flibbertigibbet”, and then Harry was gone, disappeared around the corner, on his way to the library. Neville quickly said the password, before he forgot it again, and hurried between the trolls into the Gryffindor common room.
The common room seemed deserted. Only a few groups of first and second years were still inside, huddled in armchairs around the fire, and others gathered around tables, working together on essays, debating in hushed voices. Neville hurried up the stairs to the third year boy’s dorm, and quickly ruffled through his trunk, finally pulling out his half- finished essay. He sighed at the sight of all the revisions he had made to it; the blots of ink, the crossed out words. He even saw where he had scribbled ‘what?!!’ in the margins... desperately attempting to convince the theory to make sense...maybe Harry would be able to help him sort out this mess...
Downstairs, he picked a table away from the first and second years, and, spreading his essay before him on the table, he waited for Harry, earnestly watching the portrait hole for any sign of a messy black head emerging...
It didn’t come right away, so Neville got out his textbook as well, and started rifling through it, one eye still fixed on the portrait hole.
By lunch-time, Neville had given up wondering what had happened to Harry, and had begun to suspect that he wasn’t coming back. It made sense really. Why would Harry want to spend a Saturday helping Neville with his homework? He’d probably gone to visit with Hagrid, or something.
He felt a lump form in his throat. He shouldn’t be so surprised. Someone wonderful like Harry wouldn’t want to spend the day with Neville, who would? He was a disgrace to Gryffindor, a disgrace to the Longbottoms... if it had been his father in Gryffindor now, Harry would want to spend the day with him...his father had been a brilliant student, he knew, his Gran had told him...
He blinked away the tears, furious with himself. He was trying not to be the fat cry-baby that Pansy Parkinson had accused him of being back in first year...he would not cry in the common room, not in front of the first and second years...
Really, Harry had been right to leave him. He was useless.
“Neville?” A timid, gentle voice broke through his thoughts. He looked up, startled, into the smiling face of Ginny Weasley. He began to tremble. She hates me, he thought. You nearly killed her brother; of course she hates you! But then, why was she smiling at him?
“I was wondering if you’d help me with my Herbology homework? Hermione usually helps me, but she’s gone to Hogsmeade. She said you were one of the best in the class at it though...” Her smile never wavered, but her brown eyes took on a hopeful gleam. Her ears turned a bit red, in the same way Ron’s did when he was a little embarrassed.
Suddenly the unreality of this situation hit him. She wanted him to help him with her homework...it couldn’t be; it was probably a trick, or a trap...why would anyone want his help with homework...
“Sure!” he was surprised to find he had already answered. Ginny turned an even deeper shade of red, sat down beside him at the table. As she moved Neville’s papers to find a place to put her Herbology books, her eyes strayed onto the blotted and mistake-ridden attempt at a Vampire essay. Neville noticed that her eyes were scanning it; she was reading his essay.
She looked up and him, then back down to the table, clearly more than a bit nervous. Here it comes, he thought. Here’s where she realizes what a squib you are and goes fleeing back to Colin Creevey and the other second years...its coming in a second...
“Um, if you’d like, I could help you with your essay on Vampires...” Her face was a brilliant scarlet, her voice barely more than a whisper. Then, her eyes were meeting his, warm, brown and honest. “I mean, I know I’m only a second year, and we haven’t done Vampires yet, but, um, before I started at Hogwarts I did a lot of research on them...Fred and George had told me that the new students had to defeat a Vampire, and I wanted to be prepared...so I know all about Vampires...no one told me the true nature of the Sorting...they told Ron he had to wrestle a Troll...”
“Sounds like a fair exchange then...” was that him? Did he really just say that? Ginny was smiling at him again, so he must have said it...She was opening her Herbology books, asking about the proper care of an Asian Shrieking plant...and he was answering...
Perhaps, it wasn’t so terrible to not be allowed into Hogsmeade after all.