The Courtship of Neville Longbottom

"Herbology, fine," Professor McGonagall said abruptly as her critical eye gave Neville's planned N.E.W.T. schedule the once-over.

Neville resisted the strong urge to tremble in his seat. Any confrontation with his head of house had always scared him.

"Professor Sprout will be delighted to see you back with an 'Outstanding' O.W.L.," she continued. "And you qualify for Defense Against the Dark Arts with 'Exceeds Expectations.' But the problem is Transfiguration."

Neville's heart sank as his head slowly slumped on his shoulders as if it was drawn to the floor by force.

Professor McGonagall shifted her glasses on the bridge of her nose and looked sharply down at him. "I'm sorry, Longbottom, but an 'Acceptable' really isn't good enough to continue to the N.E.W.T. level. I just don't think you'd be able to cope with the coursework."

Without lifting his head and glancing around the table, Neville felt Harry and Ron's eyes on him, possibly waiting for a response or some sort of small agreement, as was his nature. Neville balled his fists in an unbidden burst of anger. He didn't want to acquiesce to everything others said, it was simply easier that way.

Neville's face reddened further as he looked up an realized that Professor McGonagall was awaiting some sort of reaction.

"Why do you want to continue with Transfiguration anyway?" she asked as she once again perched her square-framed glasses on her well-defined nose. "I've never had the impression that you particularly enjoyed it."

He wanted to reply that actually, she was right and he didn't enjoy the subject. Instead, he glanced down at his feet as he absentmindedly scuffed his trainers on the floor. After a long pause, Neville sighed and responded.

"It's really what my grandmother wants," he mumbled, remembering her expression in Ollivander's as his fidgeted, still unable to meet Professor McGonagall's eyes.

Professor McGonagall emitted a guttural noise that sounded like something between a snort and a laugh. Surprised, Neville dared to look up and meet her eyes.

"It's high time your grandmother learned to be proud of the grandson she's got, rather than the one she thinks she ought to have- particularly after what happened at the Ministry."

Neville, shocked at the compliment, blatantly stared at his Head of House unable to do anything else but blink and blush.

"I'm sorry, Longbottom, but I cannot let you into my N.E.W.T. class," Professor McGonagall stated, rather high-handedly. "I see that you have an 'Exceeds Expectations' in Charms, however- why not try for a N.E.W.T. in Charms?"

Once again, Neville found himself extremely interested in his trainers. "My grandmother thinks Charms is a soft option," he said quietly.

"Take Charms," Professor McGonagall ordered, "And I shall drop Augusta a line reminding her that just because she failed her Charms O.W.L., the subject is not necessarily worthless."

Neville looked hard at his Head of House for what he felt like was the first time. She awarded him with a grin, much like the one she had awarded Hermione, before neatly tapping a blank piece of parchment with her wand. Slightly confused, but with a warm feeling spreading up from the pit of his stomach, Neville grinned back and took the piece of parchment from her hand. He managed to stutter out a 'Thank you' before rushing off into the hallway, humming slightly to himself.

His hands tightly gripping the small piece of parchment, Neville studied it vigorously. Currently, he had a free period followed by Defense Against the Dark Arts. He shivered as he realized that he would still have to deal with Professor Snape. His fear was quickly replaced by a wide grin, however, when he realized that Hermione would be in his class. Neville vowed then and there to spend as much free time as his could practicing Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Clenching his fists in excitement, Neville began to daydream. Somehow, Lord Voldemort would get inside of Hogwarts. Harry, Ron, and Hermione would be caught up in fighting him while he, Neville Longbottom, would be exacting his revenge on Bellatrix Lestrange. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes as he imagined dueling with Bellatrix, managing to catch her off-guard, and disarming her with a full body-bind.

As he finished tying the snarling Bellatrix up, suddenly, Lucius Malfoy would grab Hermione from behind. Harry and Ron would be too busy with the Dark Lord, so he would step forward, brandishing his wand and...

"Hey!" a sharp voice interrupted his thoughts. "Watch where you're leaning!"

Neville gasped and stepped back from the wall to see an oddly dressed witch glaring at him from a nearby portrait.

"Excuse me!" he gasped as he stumbled backwards, falling unceremoniously onto his backside.

The young woman sniffed and stuck her nose in the air as she went about rearranging the many diaphanous layers of her fuchsia ballgown. "Well..." she trailed off for a moment, smoothing her bright blue hair, "No harm done and all that." She paused and looked up from her oddly colored dress to study Neville's face.

"Well," she began again. "Aren't you quite the looker? Drive the girls wild I bet."

Neville blushed furiously. "Uh...N-not at all ma'am," he managed to stumble out as he began to slowly move away from the painting and down the hallway. He couldn't think of one person outside of his family who had commented on his looks, and, even then, some of the comments had been less than complimentary.

The young woman shrugged and mumbled something to herself as she looked closely at Neville. "You remind me of someone," she continued turning her head from side to side. "You don't happen to know an Alice Williamson do you?"

Shocked, Neville stared incredulously at the witch. Before he could open his mouth and respond that Alice Williamson was his mother, she burst into tears.

"Well you don't have to stare! Pervert!" she shrieked before flouncing out of the painting and disappearing.

"She was my mum!" the words burst out of Neville's mouth; however, the witch was long gone. Neville stood for a few more minutes, staring at the empty painting of a small brook and a cherry blossom tree before slowly turning on his heel and walking away.

Lost in thought, Neville paid no attention to where his feet were taking him. The witch was battier than Luna Lovegood, he thought to himself, shaking his head. He made a mental note to visit the odd witch again. Perhaps she would know something about his parents, or his mom at the very least.

After taking a few more steps, Neville realized that he was nearly to the exit that led to the Herbology greenhouses. Smiling to himself, he decided to stop in and have a chat with Professor Sprout. The squat witch had always been very kind to Neville, acting as a more friendly and open advisor than Professor McGonagall. Often, Neville had wondered why he hadn't been placed in Hufflepuff House from the beginning.