Harry Potter and the Passionate Revelare Potion

"You what?" Neville shouted at the question Hermione has just asked. Everyone in the Library who'd heard him turned his or her head to see what was going on. Neville got a grip on himself a second later as his face turned red. Not from embarrassment for once, but from rage.

"How can you suspect that I am the one behind Harry's bad dreams?" Neville shouted. Everyone around grew ears the size of an elephants. Oh, the masses will just love hearing about my "bad dreams", Harry thought as he looked around at the students pretending not to listen. As Hermione added up the clues they'd got since this whole thing started and tried to justify their accusation to Neville, Ron and Harry stood by and felt dumber for every second. I mean, come on! It's Neville they were talking about. And everybody knows Neville can't tell a lethal poison from normal Frogs Breath, let alone mix a potion that messes with someone's head so much it makes him or her have very raunchy dreams. That is a long shot, pretty far out there when you think about it objectively.

"So you must understand our suspicion, Neville. With all of this evidence you can't pretend that you are innocent any longer," Hermione said, sure that her words were true.

"Show him our evidence, Harry!" Hermione said. Harry's stomach dropped, but he knew Hermione was expecting him to pull out the bag of marijuana. Why didn't I slip it into her robes when I had the chance, Harry asked himself. He reluctantly withdrew the plastic bag and handed it to Hermione whom immediately flashed before Neville's face. Neville shut up and stared at the bag. He seemed completely stumped. Neville grabbed Hermione by the arm and pushed Harry and Ron in front of him.

"Come with me and I'll tell you all about that bag," Neville said quietly, pointing at the bag. He led them down a narrow corridor that took them to the third floor where they side-tracked and soon entered a boys toilet with a sign saying it was out of order on the door. They entered and Neville walked straight over to one of the stalls and went inside. Harry, Ron and Hermione looked confused. They heard Neville's zipper being pulled down and how he took out his manhood and started urinating. Hermione blushed. When Neville finally were finished, he stood in the entrance of the stall and leaned on the side of the cubicle wall, looking at the floor for a good minute. Then he raised his eyes and looked them all in the eyes. He ran his right hand through his hair and sighed heavily.

"Look. I'm not the one behind Harry's dreams, I swear! You've got it all wrong," Neville said talking mostly to Hermione since she was the one accusing him. Harry and Ron hadn't said a word yet.

"Then why don't you tell us all about this," Hermione said coolly. Neville ran his fingers through his hair again, seemingly stressed and nervous.

"I... The bag is mine, but... Oh dear. Please tell me you haven't gone to any of the teachers with it!" Neville exclaimed suddenly as if he had just thought of that possibility.

"We will if you don't tell us what's going on here, Neville," Hermione said.

"No don't! Ok! I'll tell you," Neville said. He walked over to the sink and cupped his hand under the water tap and turned it on. He took some water and washed his face. He was very nervous, they all noticed. Harry almost felt sorry for him.

"Ok. The bag is mine. I got it from a guy our age in Surrey last summer. Heavyset with bright blond hair, he was. Seemed a bit stupid," Neville said.

"Why were you in Surrey?" Harry asked confused. "What were you doing there?"

"I... It's a bit embarrassing, really," Neville said and gave out a smothered laugh.

"Tell us," Hermione insisted. She crossed her arms to enforce her words.

"I got upset with my grandmother about my parents. The hospital want's to... There is no progress in their recovery. There hasn't been for over three years and St Mungo's don't want to keep paying for their treatment anymore. And neither my grandmother nor me can possibly afford to pay it ourselves. So the only options we have is to somehow get enough money to keep them in the hospital or to bring them home, which is completely over granny's head with me in school so much," Neville said.

"If we can't take them home then the hospital has no other choice than to... terminate them to be humane," Neville said in a great sigh. Hermione put her hands over her mouth. Harry and Ron felt stunned. But Neville continued.

"And that is completely out of the question! So I told my grandmother that we should take them home and care for them. Only I would have to quit my studies at Hogwarts in order for it all to work," Neville said. They all had a feeling run through them saying "No! There must be a better way."

"And she would have none of that. Can you believe my granny rather wants the hospital to put my parents to sleep like Muggle pets rather than let me quit school and take care of them?" Neville said waving his hands around in some sort of evil awe at the whole scenario.

"And so I ran away from home. I know, very rebellious teenager of me, but I didn't know what to do. So I stole her broom, an old Shooting Star, and headed out on the road. And the road brought me to Surrey. I conjured some Muggle money and bought some food and then this guy, I don't remember his name, he came up to me and asked if I wanted to buy something that would make me forget my troubles and I surely need to forget my troubles so I bought that. He told me what to do with it, but I honestly didn't catch all he said so I haven't been able to use it properly. You wouldn't know what a Spliff is, would you?" Neville said. Harry knew what a Spliff was, but he didn't say anything. He just smirked to himself. It was cute how Neville was dealing with a real life drug and acted as if he didn't understand how to put the batteries in a child's toy.

"I decided to save it until school started so granny wouldn't catch me with it. And that brings me to Greenhouse number eight. I had to have some place to try this stuff out, didn't I?" Neville continued. Harry remembered that Hermione had said that several spells had been cast on Greenhouse eight to keep people out because of that tragedy years ago. So how had Neville, who sucks at everything except Herbology, been able to find away to break them all?

"How did you get past the locking spells that McGonagall and Flitwick used to barricade it with? It seems very difficult even to a student who is good at charms," Ron blurted out. Hermione gave him a kick on the shin for being so tactless.

"It was locked with spells?" Neville said scratching his head.

"It wasn't when I went there the first time," he continued. Hermione, Harry and Ron looked at each other wondering who the hell had been there first.

Suddenly the door was opened and two boys, too busy kissing each other ravenously to notice Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville, stepped inside. They closed the door and turned around and saw the four Gryffindors stand before them. Harry and Ron recognised them as the Beaters in Hufflepuff's Quidditch team. And the two boys, of course, knew who Ron and Harry were too.

"So. Joey Coburn and Daniel Thompson. Feeling a bit frisky today, eh?" Harry said evilly. The two boys blushed madly and acted as if they hadn't just been glued to each other and walked as masculine as they could, each to a stall. But just as he'd entered the stall, Daniel Thompson popped his head out again and looked at Hermione.

"What is a girl doing in here?" he asked and pointed at her. She looked very miffed.

"What are you two doing in here when there's a sign on the door saying this toilet is out of order?" Hermione asked as an answer. Daniel had nothing to say in their defence. But it was all the same. Hermione had heard all she needed to hear. She threw the bag of weed to Neville who barely caught it.

"I'm going to find out more about that Greenhouse. I'll see you guys tonight," she said and left the boys' toilet. Daniel popped back into his stall. Ron had noticed how he hadn't heard a single drop of pee hitting the water from either stall; they were waiting for them to leave so they could get on with their snogging, most likely.

"Let's get out of here," Harry said.

"I'm sorry for all this, Neville. I really am," he said as Neville passed him on his way out of the toilet. Neville smiled and patted Harry on the shoulder.

"Tell you what. You can make it up to me by showing me how the hell you are supposed to use this stuff," Neville said. Ron looked extremely curious.

"Yes, Ron. You can join us," Neville said and threw an arm over each of their shoulders as they walked towards the common room, laughing.

"No! That's all wrong, Neville! Like this," Harry said. He, Ron and Neville were out in Greenhouse eight later that night, trying out Neville's marijuana. So far everything had gone wrong. Harry had tried to teach Neville how to roll the Spliff by telling him how, but now he took control and showed him instead. Harry took the normal cigarette that Ron had conjured and rolled it between his hands making the tobacco fall out onto the Divination notebook that Harry had brought. Once the cigarette paper was empty of tobacco and it was safely on the notebook Harry took half of it and threw it away. He took a few pinches of marijuana and mixed it with the tobacco carefully. He used his wand to roast it a little so it wouldn't taste like shit when they smoked it. Ron was bedazzled.

"How do you know what to do? Did the Muggles teach you?" Ron asked Harry.

"Well, kind of. My room back at the Dursleys was wall to wall with Dudley's room and he and a few of his friends had got some of this a while back and they actually had instructions on how to do this. And I was bored that day so I listened and strangely enough I still remember it all," Harry said. He used a basic levitation spell to fill the cigarette paper with the tobacco/marijuana before he took out the filter and cut out a piece of paper from the frame of the Divination notebook and rolled it up and put it in the place where the filter had been.

"Why did you do that, Harry?" Neville asked.

"If you have a normal filter, you won't get any good smoke in your lungs and nothing will happen. The roach..."

"Roach?" asked Ron. Harry pointed at the paper filter he'd just inserted into the Spliff.

"Oh!" said Ron. Harry continued.

"The roach's job is to keep the tobacco from flying into your mouth when you inhale, but to let enough smoke through so you get affected," Harry said. Neville and Ron nodded in understanding at the same time. Harry took the Spliff and licked it at the top. He saw Ron's question in his face before he had a chance to ask it.

"We don't want it to burn up too fast. Do we?" Harry said. Again, Ron and Neville nodded at the same time. Harry liked the attention he was getting. He'd never thought he'd be happy about anything that was Muggle, but now he was.

"Let's fire this bastard up, shall we?" Harry asked and they all smiled. He put the Spliff in his mouth and lit it with his wand. He took three deep breaths and held the smoke down and passed the Spliff to the left; to Neville. Harry let out the smoke slowly.

"Hold the smoke down for a few seconds for it to take effect," Harry said. Neville nodded and drew three deep draws. He almost choked on the first draw, but he managed. Neville then passed it to Ron whose eyes were as big as a little kids on Christmas. Harry wasn't surprised when Ron choked and coughed like hell from the first draw. Both Neville and Harry laughed at him. Ron was a bit more successful at his second try. Within a few minutes, the three of them were discussing the weirdest of things as if it was the most important stuff in the world.

They stayed in Greenhouse eight for at least two hours, philosofying about everything and nothing. But Harry couldn't let go of all of what had happened in the past few months. The return of Voldemort, having Snape at 4 Privet Drive last summer, these damned dreams, Neville kissing him, the attempt to see that Mare and what Hermione had done to Ron that night, I have to ask Ron about that, Harry thought. And now it turns out it wasn't Neville behind it at all. And who had got past the spells on Greenhouse eight? Harry didn't know, but he was sure going to find out. He never thought he'd get sick of masturbation until now.

To be continued in chapter seven.