Moonlit Courage

Chapter Four

He could practically feel the anger radiating off of her body as she sat next to him at breakfast. "You didn't go talk to her last night, did you?"

Keeping his eyes fixed determinedly on what was by far the most fascinating piece of sausage he had ever seen in his life, Neville shook his head.

He was expecting an explosion, but when Ginny bent her head down by his, all he heard was a hiss of angry-sounding whispers. "Neville Longbottom, promise me that you'll go talk to her sometime this week! Promise me!"

"I promise," Neville said hurriedly. This week. It was better then that night, at any rate. Ginny stood up straight and went to talk to Luna, who was still looking mildly angry. Neville laughed nervously into his goblet of pumpkin juice; wondering how Luna kept up this pretense of anger when she really had no reason.

But Ginny... well, she had an incentive. She didn't want to see someone else hurt like she was. She wasn't upset with Harry; not really, she just didn't want to see Luna in the position that she was. Neville didn't blame her.

So with Ginny's glares bouncing off the back of his neck, Neville finished his breakfast, determined to speak to Luna later. After the redhead stalked out of the Great Hall, Neville chanced a glance at Luna, who was wearing an expression that was obviously supposed to show anger, but was smiling all the same. She looked even madder than usual, frowning hard while smiling. He chuckled to himself and hoisted his bag over his shoulder. He had Herbology first, a class without Luna, which was just as well for today. He could gather his thoughts in peace.

Although the bell hadn't rung yet, he left for the peace of the greenhouses. Maybe Professor Sprout would be there early and would let him help weed some of the more dangerous plants. Neville felt a pleasant tingle go up his spine at the thought. This was the kind of danger he liked- getting a bite from poisonous fangs or risking his hand for a plant. It wasn't "bad," but it allowed him to glimpse into the world of danger that he was so afraid of.

Sure enough, Professor Sprout was just sliding the key into the lock of Greenhouse Three. Neville hurried up and took the pots that she was carrying awkwardly under her other arm.

"Thank you, Neville, there's a good lad," she beamed at him. Neville smiled back, glad to be in the presence of the plants. He loved the plants, and the slight imitation of real danger, and the best thing of all: it gave him a chance to be good at something. It gained him respect and other odd feelings; people being proud of him and coming to him for help with homework, and it all felt so different and wonderful at the same time.

"You've heard of the Fatal Fireflower?" Professor Sprout asked Neville while lining up the pots.

"The Fatal Fireflower- a brightly colored plant that, when touched, immediately secretes a poison that burns the skin and, after entering the bloodstream, works quickly to burn the insides of the predator," Neville recited quickly, glowing just like Hermione after she answered a question correctly. Professor Sprout nodded happily and pointed to some plants in the corner of the Greenhouse.

No other flora was near it, and it was in direct sunlight. Although it looked very shriveled and old, it was as brightly colored as if it was the middle of spring. The stalks and leaves were a startling shade of orange with blood red veins running through them, while the petals of the small, dried up, almost shrunken flowers near the top were many shades of yellow and gold. Neville thought they were beautiful, despite the venom he knew was lurking in the pistil.

"This is our lesson for today," Professor Sprout said. "While the others pot these plants, we're going to be squeezing the poison out."

"Squeezing the... poison?" Neville asked quickly, making sure he had understood.

"As long as we wear safety gloves and goggles, and direct the poison away from us, we will be perfectly safe," Professor Sprout told him. "I'll have a few other seventh years help, and the rest can work on repotting them while there's no venom in 'em."

Neville nodded happily, then dug through his bag for his dragon-hide gloves. After pulling them on, he pulled out his Herbology textbook to look at the proper ways for de-poisoning a Fatal Fireflower. With Professor Sprout in the greenhouse with him, he resisted the urge to press his face to the book, trying to grasp at any memory of his father. This book had been Frank Longbottom's, and Neville loved to hold it close, as if it were a piece of his father; just something tangible to hold.

"So, why do the Fireflowers have to be repotted?" Neville asked, idly flipping to the index of his book.

"Well, we need to get the poison out, so we might as well give them a bigger home while we're at it," Professor Sprout replied. "Do you know what the venom is used for, Neville, for a bonus point for Gryffindor?"

"Er..." Neville wracked his brains for an answer, but he couldn't ever remember reading about it. "No, sorry."

"It's used for an antidote for minds that are encased behind a spell, and can't get out. Almost kinds of insanity," Professor Sprout said, clicking some pruning shears experimentally.

Neville dropped his book. "Insanity?"

"When a mind is trapped by a spell, it is in perfect condition- it just needs to break free of the spell," Professor Sprout continued. "Take the Imperius Curse- all you have to do is break the spell and your mind is free! And though few people know it, the same goes for Memory Charms. Most people think that you perform that spell and the mind is wiped free of memories, but the memories are really trapped under the spell and can't get out when they're called to come forward by the brain. It can wear off over time, and the memories can break free, but a really powerful one can last for a good long time. The Fatal Fireflower's poison could burn the spell away, if injected properly. The Healers want it to see if they can 'burn' away some spells that are keeping some patients from ever returning to normal."

Neville couldn't move. Did he dare hope?

"Neville?" Professor Sprout turned to see Neville frozen, eyes straight ahead. "Neville, what's-?"

"My parents," Neville choked out. "D'you- d'you think-"

Professor Sprout's eyes widened, then filled with sadness. "Neville, I'm afraid that this won't be able to help your parents. Nothing has ever been discovered to cure insanity like... like theirs. You see, their minds aren't trapped behind a curse; their minds broke down after they couldn't take the curse anymore. So even though the spell was lifted, the mind was already broken and remained so. I'm sorry, Neville."

Neville blinked carefully. For a second- for one breathtaking, heart-stopping second- he had almost believed he could be normal.

He could live as a normal son with normal parents.

His parents would know what to do about Luna. They would have all the solutions in the world.

His parents would know how to bandage a scrape and how to heat milk to just the right temperature so that sleep would come quickly. His parents would know how to help him set up his own garden and how to talk to girls. All the things he had been deprived of while living with Gran, he would have. For one second, he had them.

"How- how did you know?" he finally asked, shakily. "About my parents, I mean."

"I saw your grandmother in Diagon Alley one day," Professor Sprout replied. "Congratulated her on what an excellent Herbologist you're turning out to be, and she said that you had your father's talent in this particular subject, then told me what happened to him."

"I see," Neville said blinking carefully, turning his gaze back to his textbook. Now was not the time to think about it. Class would be starting in a few minutes and he needed to keep his composure.

Sure enough, the bell rang just a bit later. Neville realized he didn't know how to de-poison a Fireflower. Quickly, he flipped to the correct page and began to speed-read.

Soon the class began to file in, sixth and seventh year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. Neville was actually one of the two seventh year Gryffindors; it was hard to believe that he had gone from being the one nobody noticed to the only one around.

Ginny marched in with the others, although Neville noticed that she was doing an excellent job of ignoring him. He thought back to Luna and how she gave him those heart-stopping moments, when he felt like time was frozen and his heart raced against every other pulse in the world.

"Settle down!" Professor Sprout called. She beamed at the students as they all crowded around the empty pots at the table. "Today you all are going to be repotting Fatal Fireflowers. Don't worry about that fatal part; the older students are going to be taking all of the venom out so that you won't get hurt. Neville, would you care to show how you'll be doing this?"

"Um, sure," Neville mumbled, plodding up to the head of the table where a bunch of Fireflowers were sitting innocently in their pot. They looked hot to the touch. He pulled a few stems out of the dirt and laid them on a tray. With his dragonhide gloves secure and his book propped up against the pot just in case he needed a reference, he began applying pressure to the roots. Slowly, he moved his hands up the stem, continuing to use his weight to flatten the stem, as if trying to squeeze the last of the toothpaste out of a tube. When he finally began to reach the part near the petals, a thick, slightly metallic pus the color of ivory started to ooze out of the center. Grimacing, he continued until all of the pus was out, then using a tool, scooped it into a special bag. There was a small burn on the tray where the poison had been, but now it would go to St. Mungo's or wherever it was needed. Neville looked at Professor Sprout expectantly.

"Excellent! Ten points to Gryffindor!" she said happily. Neville smiled and handed the flattened stalks to her, which made rustling sounds when moved, like dry prairie grass. She demonstrated how to repot them correctly without touching the petals, lest there be some poison still clinging to the tips.

"Now, being Fireflowers, they don't need any water except directly to their roots... simply stick your wand under the dirt and use the charm for water, and don't worry about getting your wands dirty, I've got a special solution to clean them... Neville, it's on the shelf over there, would you mind getting it for me?" Professor Sprout indicated a shelf on the greenhouse wall.

But in his haste to get the solution, Neville tripped expertly (as he had done so many times before) over a root from a various plant, and went flying straight into the table that the remaining Fireflowers were on. A loud crash, flashes of pain, and the smell of something burning prompted Neville to move, and quickly.

"Exit the greenhouse! Wait right outside the door!" Professor Sprout barked, shuffling the students out of the door. Neville swayed where he was, dizzy from standing so quickly after smelling smoke. Professor Sprout hurried forward, water shooting out of her wand. Neville finally realized that the flowers had burst into flame, poison pooling on the ground, fueling the tongues of fire that were spreading to other plants. Pressing a hand to his throbbing head, Neville hurried forward and immediately began trying to douse the fire alongside Professor Sprout. He succeeded in over-watering a breed of the Mimbulus Mimbletonia before he realized that the fire was out, and Professor Sprout was mopping her sweating forehead with a handkerchief.

"Professor- I'm so sorry-" Neville gasped, a hand still to his head, trying to stamp on a vine snaking around his ankle and not hurt the plant at the same time.

"Just a mistake, could have happened to anyone..." Professor Sprout said distractedly, holding up a limp tendril of a dark green plant. "Oh, I hope I can save some of these plants; the desert ones will be fine, but the more exotic ones..."

"Professor..." Neville said sadly.

"Don't worry about it, Neville," she said kindly, now moving to examine the Mimbulus Mimbletonia and jabbing her wand at it, causing it to not squirt out Stinksap, but excess water. "You really should have gotten out, though!"

"I'm sorry; I didn't think!" Neville said, ashamed. "I saw the fire and just wanted to put it out."

"I understand," Professor Sprout said quickly. "Let me see your head." Neville bowed his head to show the professor; his forehead was covered in burns from where it had collided with the plants. Professor Sprout tapped his head with her wand; Neville felt a blistering sensation, and then nothing.

"You can go to Madam Pomfrey and have that mended properly, or you can stay here and help with the rest of the lesson," the stout professor told him, setting some of the Fireflower pots up straight. "The Fireflowers are unharmed; they thrive in the fire. And you shouldn't be in any immediate danger, seeing as the poison itself never touched your forehead, just the flames."

Relieved that there would still be a lesson, Neville assured Professor Sprout that his head was fine and went to let the students back in. They entered hesitantly, avoiding scorch marks on the floor. Nothing this exciting had happened in a greenhouse since Cho Chang had been caught snogging Michael Corner behind one.

"Here. I got your books out," Ginny said indifferently, putting Neville's bag in his hands. He dug out his Herbology book from where Ginny had stuffed it in sideways and rifled through the pages, checking for damage. Nothing, except- it looked like a page was bent at an extremely odd angle-

Neville pulled at the page and realized it was a sheaf of paper, much nicer than the regular parchment he used, stuck between two pages. It was folded in half, so Neville put his bag and book on the ground to unfold it. His eyes skimmed the paper and widened, for it was a letter, and it started with Dear Alice and ended with Love, Frank.