shiiki
in
shiikifics
FIC: Friendship and Bravery (Neville, Gen)
Title: Friendship and Bravery
Author: shiiki
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Neville Longbottom, Gen
Fandom: Harry Potter
Word Count: 1,631
Summary: An encounter with Slytherins and a Hufflepuff makes Neville wonder, once again, if he truly belongs in Gryffindor. Missing moment from PS/SS.
Notes: Inspired by a re-read of chapter 13 of PS/SS.
Having a Remembrall, as it turned out, was only useful if you were the kind of person who only needed a vague reminder to recall the one little thing that had slipped your mind.
Neville wasn't that kind of person.
He'd been staring at the red fog in his Remembrall for at least ten minutes now, and he still hadn't a clue whether it was trying to tell him that he'd forgotten to do something, or left something he needed in the common room, or had just left out some crucial element in his Herbology essay. He didn't think it was the last one, but the point of the Remembrall was that he'd forgotten it so he probably wouldn't know ...
It was making his head ache just to try and reason it out. Neville rested his forehead miserably against the reference book he was using.
'That's not the way you treat books, boy!'
His head snapped up at Madam Pince's irritated scold.
'This is a library, not a dormitory,' she continued. 'If you're looking to nap, you can get back to your common room.'
'Sorry,' muttered Neville. He glanced from his Remembrall--still bright red--to his essay, which was only an inch from the required length. He supposed he could finish it in the common room. Maybe if he went back to his dormitory, something might jog his memory as to what he'd forgotten. He stood and gathered his quills and parchment into his bag, placing the Remembrall in last. Aware of Madam Pince's watchful eyes on him, he carefully shut the books and reshelved them before leaving.
As he reached the first corner around the library, heavy footfalls announced the approach of a group of students from the other direction. Neville sidled closer to the wall to make room, but it wasn't enough--someone knocked painfully into his elbow.
'Well, well, well,' drawled a nastily familiar voice.
Neville gulped and took an involuntary step back as he recognised Draco Malfoy, flanked as always by Crabbe and Goyle. It was Crabbe who had jarred his elbow coming round the corner.
I'll just keep going, Neville told himself. I haven't got a fight with them. He nodded politely to acknowledge his three classmates and tried to pass, but Crabbe shot out a pudgy arm and barred his way.
'Not so quick, Dungbottom,' he said. 'Draco said he could show us a curse.'
Neville's felt his face go hot. 'Don't call me that,' he said sharply. 'And let me go.'
Malfoy grinned at him maliciously. 'That's true, I did need a test subject. You'll do perfectly, Longbottom.'
'No--don't--let me g--mmph--' His yell was cut off as Goyle plastered a huge palm over his mouth. Crabbe pinned his arms behind his back, preventing him from going for his wand--not that it would have helped. Neville hadn't a clue what curse Malfoy intended to use, and even if he did, he wouldn't know the counter-curse anyway, he hadn't done that essay--that was what he'd forgotten to put on his list of work to accomplish for the afternoon!
He had bigger problems now, though. Malfoy levelled his wand at him and said carefully, 'Locomotor mortis!'
Neville felt his legs snap rigidly together. Malfoy laughed as he lowered his wand.
'See?' he said to Crabbe and Goyle. 'That's how it's done. Come on, you can let him go--he'll probably fall over once you do, anyway.'
Crabbe and Goyle released him, chortling--the latter gave him a little shove, making Malfoy's prediction come true as he overbalanced and without the ability to move his legs, crashed to his side, landing on his bag. He felt the Remembrall crush underneath his weight.
'Pathetic,' Malfoy sniggered. 'How did you ever end up in Gryffindor, Longbottom?' His, Crabbe's and Goyle's laughter echoed back down the corridors as they moved on.
Neville winced and pushed himself up into a sitting position. His legs mercifully did not hurt--any more than tripping and falling generally did--and he could still bend his knees and move his feet. They were, however, glued together, and try as he might, he could not force them back apart. It took him some effort to push himself back into a standing position: first he had to curl his legs up to his chest, shuffle his back to the wall, and then pressed up against it, inch his way upright. With a hand on the wall for balance, he bent at the waist to grab his bag. He slung it over his shoulder and took a tentative hop forward.
It was terribly awkward but at least he was moving.
Ten minutes later, Neville had only made it to the first staircase. He was already breathless and sweating hard, and he looked at the steep climb in dismay. An enormous wave of self-pity threatened to crash over him.
I won't cry, I won't, he thought fiercely, blinking hard. He took a deep breath, bent his knees, and jumped onto the first step. He could do this. One step at a time ... until he reached the third step from the top and groaned, remembering for the first time the trick step that he'd fallen into so many times last term. He'd need to leap it, which was easy enough ordinarily if you remembered; not so much after you were winded from hopping all the way from the library and up a flight of stairs. But there was nothing for it. Neville bit his lip and jumped.
His shin slammed painfully into the step as he landed, but he made it. He was wobbling dangerously, though, and he flung an arm out to grab the railing so that he could steady himself. He hitched his bag more securely up his shoulder with the other arm and wiped the sleeve of his robe across his sweaty forehead. When he looked up, someone was gaping at him.
Neville blushed, his uncomfortably warm face growing hotter still. Hannah Abbott, a girl he knew vaguely from shared Herbology lessons with the Hufflepuffs, was standing at the top of the stairs, having appeared just in time to watch his unseemly leap over the trick step.
'Er, hi, Neville,' she said uncertainly. 'Are you--are you all right?'
'Um, yeah.'
She looked curiously at his legs. 'Is there something wrong with ...' She gestured towards his lower limbs. 'I mean, not to be rude, but you look a little ... awkward.'
'I--well--' He felt sure his face must be bright red by now. 'I ran into Malfoy. He--'
'He cursed you?' said Hannah. 'I didn't know he picked on Gryffindors, too.'
Neville hung his head, not wanting to see the pity in her eyes. He could just imagine her thinking, as everyone did, what a useless Gryffindor he was, unable to stand up to the year's bullies.
'I reckon you didn't manage the counter-curse.'
Neville shook his head. 'I haven't done my Defence homework yet.'
'I have, but I don't know if I can get it to work. Mind if I try, though? I can't promise I won't make it worse, though ...'
'I don't see how much worse it could get. Go on.'
Hannah drew out her wand. 'Finiter Incantater,' she said uncertainly. Nothing happened. 'I think I've got it wrong. I'm sorry, Neville.'
'It's all right,' he said. 'I don't know it either. Someone in the common room must, though, if I can just make it back.'
Hannah's face brightened. 'I can help you! Er--if you don't mind showing me the way to your common room, that is.'
Neville hesitated. He wasn't sure if it was meant to be a secret--but at least Hannah wasn't a Slytherin, and the prospect of having some help for the rest of the journey was a very welcome one.
'I promise I won't tell anyone how to get there,' said Hannah.
'Okay, but are you sure I'm not keeping you from something?'
Hannah tossed her head. 'Don't be silly. You need help! That's more important right now. Come on, then, lean on me.'
With Hannah's help, the rest of the journey went much quicker and smoother. She kept up an encouraging conversation along the way, commiserating about how scary Malfoy and his friends were and how the Hufflepuffs tried to stay out of their way during their shared lessons. This was so close to the way Neville often felt, he wondered yet again if he ought to have been in Hufflepuff all along. Maybe it wouldn't have been such a bad thing. Even if Gran would have died of shame, maybe he would at least have fit in. Hannah didn't seem to think messing up and being tormented by Malfoy made him a joke, the way most of the Gryffindors did.
They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady at last, and Neville opened his mouth to give the password, but the Fat Lady shook her head at him.
'You're being careless,' scolded the Fat Lady. 'She's not a Gryffindor.'
Hannah blushed. 'Sorry, I'll go. Good luck, Neville.'
'Thanks, Hannah,' he said. 'For--for helping, and--well, thanks.'
Hannah smiled. 'You're welcome. And you can work with us sometimes in Herbology, too.' She slipped away, leaving Neville to enter Gryffindor Tower alone.
Neville didn't know what to make of the invitation. On one hand, it was a welcome friendly overture; on the other, it made him think, once again, I should have been in Hufflepuff. He'd wanted so much to be brave ... but was it better instead to really belong? Would he have found closer friends there? Maybe if he were a true Gryffindor, this question would never have crossed his mind.
He shook his head and gave the password to the Fat Lady. With a sigh, he heaved himself through the portrait hole.
Author: shiiki
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Neville Longbottom, Gen
Fandom: Harry Potter
Word Count: 1,631
Summary: An encounter with Slytherins and a Hufflepuff makes Neville wonder, once again, if he truly belongs in Gryffindor. Missing moment from PS/SS.
Notes: Inspired by a re-read of chapter 13 of PS/SS.
Having a Remembrall, as it turned out, was only useful if you were the kind of person who only needed a vague reminder to recall the one little thing that had slipped your mind.
Neville wasn't that kind of person.
He'd been staring at the red fog in his Remembrall for at least ten minutes now, and he still hadn't a clue whether it was trying to tell him that he'd forgotten to do something, or left something he needed in the common room, or had just left out some crucial element in his Herbology essay. He didn't think it was the last one, but the point of the Remembrall was that he'd forgotten it so he probably wouldn't know ...
It was making his head ache just to try and reason it out. Neville rested his forehead miserably against the reference book he was using.
'That's not the way you treat books, boy!'
His head snapped up at Madam Pince's irritated scold.
'This is a library, not a dormitory,' she continued. 'If you're looking to nap, you can get back to your common room.'
'Sorry,' muttered Neville. He glanced from his Remembrall--still bright red--to his essay, which was only an inch from the required length. He supposed he could finish it in the common room. Maybe if he went back to his dormitory, something might jog his memory as to what he'd forgotten. He stood and gathered his quills and parchment into his bag, placing the Remembrall in last. Aware of Madam Pince's watchful eyes on him, he carefully shut the books and reshelved them before leaving.
As he reached the first corner around the library, heavy footfalls announced the approach of a group of students from the other direction. Neville sidled closer to the wall to make room, but it wasn't enough--someone knocked painfully into his elbow.
'Well, well, well,' drawled a nastily familiar voice.
Neville gulped and took an involuntary step back as he recognised Draco Malfoy, flanked as always by Crabbe and Goyle. It was Crabbe who had jarred his elbow coming round the corner.
I'll just keep going, Neville told himself. I haven't got a fight with them. He nodded politely to acknowledge his three classmates and tried to pass, but Crabbe shot out a pudgy arm and barred his way.
'Not so quick, Dungbottom,' he said. 'Draco said he could show us a curse.'
Neville's felt his face go hot. 'Don't call me that,' he said sharply. 'And let me go.'
Malfoy grinned at him maliciously. 'That's true, I did need a test subject. You'll do perfectly, Longbottom.'
'No--don't--let me g--mmph--' His yell was cut off as Goyle plastered a huge palm over his mouth. Crabbe pinned his arms behind his back, preventing him from going for his wand--not that it would have helped. Neville hadn't a clue what curse Malfoy intended to use, and even if he did, he wouldn't know the counter-curse anyway, he hadn't done that essay--that was what he'd forgotten to put on his list of work to accomplish for the afternoon!
He had bigger problems now, though. Malfoy levelled his wand at him and said carefully, 'Locomotor mortis!'
Neville felt his legs snap rigidly together. Malfoy laughed as he lowered his wand.
'See?' he said to Crabbe and Goyle. 'That's how it's done. Come on, you can let him go--he'll probably fall over once you do, anyway.'
Crabbe and Goyle released him, chortling--the latter gave him a little shove, making Malfoy's prediction come true as he overbalanced and without the ability to move his legs, crashed to his side, landing on his bag. He felt the Remembrall crush underneath his weight.
'Pathetic,' Malfoy sniggered. 'How did you ever end up in Gryffindor, Longbottom?' His, Crabbe's and Goyle's laughter echoed back down the corridors as they moved on.
Neville winced and pushed himself up into a sitting position. His legs mercifully did not hurt--any more than tripping and falling generally did--and he could still bend his knees and move his feet. They were, however, glued together, and try as he might, he could not force them back apart. It took him some effort to push himself back into a standing position: first he had to curl his legs up to his chest, shuffle his back to the wall, and then pressed up against it, inch his way upright. With a hand on the wall for balance, he bent at the waist to grab his bag. He slung it over his shoulder and took a tentative hop forward.
It was terribly awkward but at least he was moving.
Ten minutes later, Neville had only made it to the first staircase. He was already breathless and sweating hard, and he looked at the steep climb in dismay. An enormous wave of self-pity threatened to crash over him.
I won't cry, I won't, he thought fiercely, blinking hard. He took a deep breath, bent his knees, and jumped onto the first step. He could do this. One step at a time ... until he reached the third step from the top and groaned, remembering for the first time the trick step that he'd fallen into so many times last term. He'd need to leap it, which was easy enough ordinarily if you remembered; not so much after you were winded from hopping all the way from the library and up a flight of stairs. But there was nothing for it. Neville bit his lip and jumped.
His shin slammed painfully into the step as he landed, but he made it. He was wobbling dangerously, though, and he flung an arm out to grab the railing so that he could steady himself. He hitched his bag more securely up his shoulder with the other arm and wiped the sleeve of his robe across his sweaty forehead. When he looked up, someone was gaping at him.
Neville blushed, his uncomfortably warm face growing hotter still. Hannah Abbott, a girl he knew vaguely from shared Herbology lessons with the Hufflepuffs, was standing at the top of the stairs, having appeared just in time to watch his unseemly leap over the trick step.
'Er, hi, Neville,' she said uncertainly. 'Are you--are you all right?'
'Um, yeah.'
She looked curiously at his legs. 'Is there something wrong with ...' She gestured towards his lower limbs. 'I mean, not to be rude, but you look a little ... awkward.'
'I--well--' He felt sure his face must be bright red by now. 'I ran into Malfoy. He--'
'He cursed you?' said Hannah. 'I didn't know he picked on Gryffindors, too.'
Neville hung his head, not wanting to see the pity in her eyes. He could just imagine her thinking, as everyone did, what a useless Gryffindor he was, unable to stand up to the year's bullies.
'I reckon you didn't manage the counter-curse.'
Neville shook his head. 'I haven't done my Defence homework yet.'
'I have, but I don't know if I can get it to work. Mind if I try, though? I can't promise I won't make it worse, though ...'
'I don't see how much worse it could get. Go on.'
Hannah drew out her wand. 'Finiter Incantater,' she said uncertainly. Nothing happened. 'I think I've got it wrong. I'm sorry, Neville.'
'It's all right,' he said. 'I don't know it either. Someone in the common room must, though, if I can just make it back.'
Hannah's face brightened. 'I can help you! Er--if you don't mind showing me the way to your common room, that is.'
Neville hesitated. He wasn't sure if it was meant to be a secret--but at least Hannah wasn't a Slytherin, and the prospect of having some help for the rest of the journey was a very welcome one.
'I promise I won't tell anyone how to get there,' said Hannah.
'Okay, but are you sure I'm not keeping you from something?'
Hannah tossed her head. 'Don't be silly. You need help! That's more important right now. Come on, then, lean on me.'
With Hannah's help, the rest of the journey went much quicker and smoother. She kept up an encouraging conversation along the way, commiserating about how scary Malfoy and his friends were and how the Hufflepuffs tried to stay out of their way during their shared lessons. This was so close to the way Neville often felt, he wondered yet again if he ought to have been in Hufflepuff all along. Maybe it wouldn't have been such a bad thing. Even if Gran would have died of shame, maybe he would at least have fit in. Hannah didn't seem to think messing up and being tormented by Malfoy made him a joke, the way most of the Gryffindors did.
They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady at last, and Neville opened his mouth to give the password, but the Fat Lady shook her head at him.
'You're being careless,' scolded the Fat Lady. 'She's not a Gryffindor.'
Hannah blushed. 'Sorry, I'll go. Good luck, Neville.'
'Thanks, Hannah,' he said. 'For--for helping, and--well, thanks.'
Hannah smiled. 'You're welcome. And you can work with us sometimes in Herbology, too.' She slipped away, leaving Neville to enter Gryffindor Tower alone.
Neville didn't know what to make of the invitation. On one hand, it was a welcome friendly overture; on the other, it made him think, once again, I should have been in Hufflepuff. He'd wanted so much to be brave ... but was it better instead to really belong? Would he have found closer friends there? Maybe if he were a true Gryffindor, this question would never have crossed his mind.
He shook his head and gave the password to the Fat Lady. With a sigh, he heaved himself through the portrait hole.