Mimsey

"Neville. Longbottom."

Neville bolted upright from sleep, eyes staring fearfully in the direction of That Voice. Gran's Voice. It boomed through the hallways of the house, loud enough to shake the dust off the rafters. It rattled the doors and windows and knocked Trevor clear off his favorite sunning spot: the chair set right next to the bed. Neville let out a shocked gasp and scrambled out of bed, banging his shoulder against the bedpost in his haste to grab at Trevor before the toad managed to crawl underneath the crack in the door. Neville, slightly winded, sat cross-legged on the carpet with his back leaning against the wall.

"I think you'd do best not to go out there right now," Neville whispered, holding Trevor up to his eye level. "She sounds like she's in a bit of a bad state."

"NEVILLE!"

The wall he'd been leaning against gave a firm heave, rapping against the back of Neville's head. He rubbed at the ache with his free hand as Trevor struggled to escape the firm grip of the other. Neville took a deep breath, holding it in until his lungs yearned for release.

"I'd better go see what she wants," Neville muttered, utterly resigned to the idea of another day of raging. Gran hadn't stopped since he'd returned from Hogwarts a fortnight ago. Neville couldn't imagine a worse way to end fifth year. It was bad enough they had a joke of a DADA professor and had to practice in secret to learn the proper spells. He also just had to follow Harry on some rescue mission to the Ministry of Magic.

Where he lost Dad's wand. He doubted his grandmother would ever forgive him for it. She certainly didn't sound like she would. Actually, she sounded like-

"NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM!!!"

Like a banshee.

He placed Trevor on his unmade bed, and the toad immediately buried himself beneath the sheets. Neville pulled on his bathrobe, cinching it around his waist as his bare feet slid into a pair of bedroom slippers. He took another deep breath.

"Wish me luck, then."

If Trevor croaked anything in response, the sound was heavily muffled by bedcovers because Neville didn't hear a thing.

"Right." Neville, chewing anxiously on his bottom lip, grasped at the doorknob and gave it a careful twist. He tugged the bedroom door open and got ready to rush down the corridor.

Except he noticed the beady eyes of a stuffed vulture staring directly at him.

"Good morning, dear," Gran said curtly, the stuffed vulture on her hat shaking in unison with her words. "Sleep well?"

He let out a high-pitched squeak. No wonder she sounded so sodding close!

"Um...well...yeah...yes...I mean...Tr-Trevor..."

"Stop sputtering and get downstairs. That Thing is in need of a trimming again." Gran turned on her heel and marched down the hallway, disappearing from view when she started to descend the steps.

Neville raised his eyes up towards the ceiling. "That Thing." Gran's name for the Mimbulus mimbletonia. It had a better name, Neville thought. A proper name. He took to calling the plant "Mimsey" in his head, although he never said it out loud. He felt a little silly for naming a plant, but he'd grown rather attached to it and he'd heard naming things one really liked was common. Besides, if Trevor had a name, then Mimsey could have one as well.

Gran refused to allow him to keep Mimsey in his bedroom. She brought up his clumsiness. What if he accidentally trod on it in the dark? What if Trevor, normally a curious toad, took a cautious bite or two of the plant? What if it was poisonous to toads? What if it squirted Stink-Sap all over the walls of his bedroom? She certainly wouldn't clean it up!

So now Mimsey sat on the windowsill above the kitchen sink. Neville believed that it was lonely. That's why it needed so much attention. He had pampered it during fifth year. It barely left his side during the ride on the Express. He raised it close by the entire term and kept it on his nightstand in the dorms. Probably made the rest of the fifth year blokes uncomfortable, but they never complained. At least, never to his face. He was certain one of the blokes, Dean or Seamus, would want to have a chat with him about that weird grey pulsating cactus.

But no one ever said anything.

Neville trudged down the stairs and wandered slowly into the kitchen, his scuffling feet making swishing noises against the floor. He glanced nervously at his grandmother, who sat at the table and kept taking careful sips of her tea. Her eyes latched onto his every move, peeking over the rim of her teacup. Neville headed towards the windowsill, a weak grin appearing on his face as he spotted Mimsey.

"Good morning," he said quietly.

The plant reacted to the familiar, soothing vibrations of Neville's voice and immediately began to purr. The boils on its surface were sprouting needles, something Neville knew it wasn't meant to do. Mimsey had defense mechanisms galore already, so why was it trying out a new sort of protection?

Neville promised he'd trim the needles after Uncle Algie ended up piercing his hat on them. The plant had somehow taken a liking to anything colored a certain shade of purple, and of course, Algie's hat was exactly that color. Neville took the clippers in his hand, his lips pursed in concentration. He knew this wouldn't hurt the plant. It was like cutting hair or fingernails for a person. Just a slight bit of discomfort and then it'd be over.

He grazed his fingers over the plant's grey surface, being careful not to get pricked by the needles. The plant's purr grew louder, its fleshy knobs trying to rub against Neville's hand like an animal wanting to be petted. Except, Neville didn't dare pet it; not when it was covered with skin-piercing stems.

"Careful..." he said in a calm voice. "I'm not made of the same stuff you are. I've got to trim these off, now. You can't keep making them. You don't *need* them. Why are you doing this?" Each needle fell off with one firm squeeze of Neville's clippers. He gathered the needles up (each was about as long as his thumb) and tossed them into the wastebin like he always did.

With Mimsey free of needles, Neville felt obliged to pet it, smiling fondly as the plant began to croon and rub itself against his hand.

"Are you thirsty?" he asked, his fingers pressing against the dirt in Mimsey's pot. "Your soil's a bit dry. Let's get you a drink."

Gran watched silently as Neville watered the Mimbulus mimbletonia. The boy had a look of sheer bliss on his plump face, oblivious to everything else but that monstrosity of a plant. It didn't have leaves or flowers. It wasn't even *green*. What did the boy see in That Thing?

"Hurry up with that, dear," Gran said. "Once you're done, I'll make you breakfast."

Neville was too involved in petting Mimsey to pay attention to what Gran was saying to him. He adored the way it moved and how it responded to his touch. He only had to bring his hand close to it, and it would reach out to caress each of his fingers. Its boils began to turn slightly pink. That meant Mimsey was happy.

"Neville?" Gran's voice sounded miles away.

"Hmmm...?" Neville replied dreamily.

"Stop petting That Thing and sit at the table."

"Al-alright." Neville grazed his fingernails along Mimsey's base one last time, causing the plant to quiver in sheer pleasure. When Neville started towards the table, however, Mimsey made a noise like popping popcorn.

Needles sprouted all over its surface again.

"Gran?" Neville asked in a timid voice. "Do I...?"

"Deal with it after breakfast." Gran sighed, waving her wand to bring a bowl of porridge to Neville's usual place at the table. "First, eat."

"Yes, Gran," Neville said, plopping himself down in his chair. He shoveled spoonfuls of porridge into his mouth, all the while watching Mimsey. The plant waved lazily from side to side. It was almost as if it was beckoning him to come back.

But that might've only been his imagination.

***

Neville stared longingly at the window of Flourish and Blotts, his hands pressed on the glass. There on display was a rare, first edition copy of "A Modern Herbal" right up front.

"Neville," Gran said in a weary voice. "I am not spending that many galleons on a book you'll only use for leisure reading. We're here to get you a new wand. That will be your birthday present. Not some silly book."

He took one last disappointed glance at the book before turning away. "Y-Yes, Gran." He trailed behind her, hands shoved into his pockets as they headed into Ollivander's. He'd never been in the wand shop before, and all he could do was stare up at the shelves of wandboxes with his mouth slightly open.

"Mr. Longbottom." Ollivander said calmly. "Mrs. Longbottom," he nodded in greeting to Gran. "I see you've finally taken my advice and decided to get the boy his own wand?"

Gran glared at Ollivander, the vulture shaking with her bubbling annoyance. "Yes. Finally. But only because the boy lost his father's wand."

"Frank's was a good wand. Beechwood and phoenix feather. Good for charms work." Ollivander said casually, walking over to Neville. "Need to measure you, lad. Won't take a moment. Stretch your wand arm out."

"Left arm, dear." Gran quipped.

Neville already knew which arm was his wand arm, but he didn't say anything. He just stood patiently as the tape measure took readings of his entire body.

"Most curious," Ollivander muttered as he wandered over to the shelves. "Not like his father at all. It's no wonder the boy does rather poorly at school, Mrs. Longbottom. He and his previous wand were so mismatched it was like getting a complete stranger's wand." He gathered up a good number of wandboxes from the shelves. "Here we are, then. First one. Willow and dragon heartstring."

Neville took the wand from Ollivander and gave it a wave.

But it was more like half a wave because Ollivander snatched it right out of his hand.

"Not the right one, sorry." Ollivander took another wand out of its box. "Maple and veela hair."

Neville had only grasped it for a second before Ollivander took it back from him.

"That one's all wrong for you," said Ollivander, slipping another wand into Neville's hand. "Oak and unicorn hair. Eleven and a quarter inches."

Oh, Neville thought. This felt...almost right. Apparently the wand thought so too, and red sparks emerged from its tip.

"Well, that's it then." Gran said quickly, rummaging through her handbag for her coinpouch. "How much is it?"

Ollivander shook his greying head. "No...wait a moment, Mrs. Longbottom. That was almost the wand. Almost, but not quite. What's wrong with it, lad?"

Neville suddenly realised Ollivander was addressing him. "Um, yeah. I mean, it feels right. M-mostly."

"Curious," Ollivander pondered. "Mostly right. I've not had one of those sorts of match-ups in years. But, I do remember how that was fixed. What've you got in your pockets, boy? Anything useful for a core?"

A confused look fell over Neville's face. What did Ollivander mean by that? A core? All he had in his pockets were handfuls of gumwrappers (which he didn't think would make a good wand core at all) and one of Mimsey's needles. Well, why not? "Erm, I've got a needle from a plant. A...a mimbulus mimbletonia. Is...is that alright?"

Gran sighed, exasperated. Of all the things the boy kept in his pockets...

"Perfect," Ollivander said, smiling broadly.

"It...is it?" Neville shot a pensive look at his grandmother before turning back to Ollivander. "It's just one..."

"That's fine, Mr. Longbottom." Ollivander held out one of his bony, aged hands, and Neville placed the needle into the palm. "One is all that's needed. May I?" He indicated the wand still in Neville's hand.

Neville released the wand from his grasp, allowing Ollivander to take it from him. Neville watched with curious eyes as the wandmaker removed his personal wand from within his robes. Ollivander touched the tips of both wands together, causing Neville's wand to melt open, revealing the single unicorn hair within. The needle was placed at the exact center of the hair, and then it was sealed up with another tap of Ollivander's wand.

"Best not to say anything to anyone about this," Ollivander said. "I usually don't do on the spot repairs, but this, I believe, is a special case. Here you go. Try it now, Mr. Longbottom."

Neville licked at his lips and took the wand from Ollivander. Oh! That felt...perfect. Red and gold sparks flew out from the wand's tip.

"At last," Gran said, a thin smile appearing on her face for the slightest of moments before her mouth settled back into its usual look of grim determination. "Now, Mr. Ollivander. How much?"

Neville suddenly wondered why he felt so giddy, so deliriously happy. He began to laugh. It was a soft laugh at first, hardly more than a chuckle. Then it grew and grew into a full-fledged guffaw. He couldn't help it. After all these years, he finally had a wand he could call his very own.

And it was all thanks to Mimsey.

***

The morning of the students' return into Hogwarts, Neville was having breakfast in the kitchen. He idly chewed on a piece of bacon, staring at Mimsey like he did every morning. Gran always knew how to charm bacon properly so it was chewy and not crisp. Neville hated how crisp bacon tended to shatter in your mouth when you bit into it.

Mimsey was no longer popping out spindly needles out of its boils. It was behaving like a proper Mimbulus mimbletonia for once, stretching itself towards the rays of sunlight pouring into the kitchen. It stretched further and further, elongating itself out with the effort until...

Plop.

It tumbled right out the window.

"Mimsey!" Neville exclaimed out loud, ignoring Gran's look of utter shock. He scrambled towards the open window, searching frantically for any sign of the plant.

Mimsey was dragging itself along the side of the house, following the course of the sun.

"Not today. I go back today. Not today," Neville murmurred. "Couldn't you have waited until hols?"

"What is That Thing doing now?"

Neville turned to Gran, his voice filled with excitement and a little desperation. "It needs to replant itself. That's part of its natural cycle. It chooses a spot to take root and settles in for the rest of the season. But...but I didn't know it'd be this soon!" He rushed out the back door, despite Gran's protests. "I've got help it, Gran. This is...I've got to say goodbye."

"Quit dawdling, dear! We haven't much time! We'll miss the Express!"

Neville flung himself onto the grass, inching right alongside Mimsey. The plant's movements were fascinating. It reached out in front of itself and dug into the ground with its knobs, then dragged its pot behind it. The pot. Neville would have to remove Mimsey from the pot to allow it more freedom of movement. He tenderly lifted Mimsey and caressed it. The plant's purring sounded content but urgent, its pulsating knobs nuzzling his hand.

"One last time," he said, smiling. He gingerly shook the plant from its pot and set it down onto the grass. It scuttled along faster now, whipping through the grass until it came to a sudden stop. "Here? Are you sure?"

Mimsey started to dig up large clumps of dirt, swiftly clearing out a nice hole for itself in the garden.

"You chose a good spot," Neville said. "Lots of sun on this side of the house."

Mimsey, finally done with its work, dragged itself into the hole. It then began to bury itself with dirt.

Neville used his hands to pat the dirt down once the plant was finished. He leaned over the mound of soil, whispering, "If you've matured enough, I'll see you during hols, alright?" His hands caressed the mound, and he was about to say something else when he was suddenly dragged up to his feet by his robes.

Gran stood right next to him, her wand raised impatiently. She gave her wand another flick, releasing Neville from her Levitating Charm.

"Get yourself over to the fireplace before I toss you in."

Neville made an anxious, affirmative noise and hurried back into the house, taking one last look at the raised bit of backyard where Mimsey had planted itself. In a few months, the plant would be mature enough to take root in the backyard. Perhaps it'd adapt to the colder climate. Perhaps there might be new changes in store for it. The new Hogwarts term had just started, but Neville already wanted to see it end so he'd be able to see Mimsey spurt flowers. Hopefully in time for summer.

Just as well Professor Sprout had taken some samples of the plant before he'd left. Maybe she was able to make them thrive as well? Neville dragged his trunk into the fireplace, made sure Trevor was in his usual pocket, and took a handful of Floo powder. With a clear voice, he announced his destination, a wizard pub near King's Cross, and he was off to start his sixth year at Hogwarts.