Rowena's Quill

On the morning after Neville's birthday, the wizarding wireless reported the mysterious disappearance of Mr. Ollivander. Having just been in the store the previous day, the news disturbed Neville immensely.

"Yours may well have been the last wand he sold," said Gran.

"Yeah," agreed Neville. "Remember that man who came in after us? As soon as Mr. Ollivander saw him, he said he had an appointment and left. Do you suppose -"

"Who that man was and what he might have wanted is anyone's guess," said Gran. "This is just how it was last time. You never knew who you could trust."

"It's horrible."

"It certainly is."

With all the doom and gloom on the news, Neville was glad he had the distraction of the garden. Besides all Gran's herbal needs, there was his Mimbulus mimbletonia, now doubled in size, and he had the new challenge of the phoscolia. He'd become downright obsessive about getting the color just right. He knew it was irrational, but he was harboring a desperate hope that if he could capture the vibrancy of Ginny's hair color on its petals, it would win her over more truly and completely than any love potion, as if the flower's magic was even more potent in its raw form.

All summer long, Neville listened to the weather reports meticulously. He brought the phoscolia out in the strongest sun of each day, but he never left it out too long or it would bleach. Jasmine had been right; it was a tricky balance. By the end of holiday, Neville had got it almost perfect, though he was still hoping to catch a few gold highlights. While sitting in the kitchen, storing and preserving the last of the summer harvest for Gran, he put on the wireless and waited eagerly for the weather report.

This is Veritus, the Voice of Truth, at Station WIZ. It'll be back to school tomorrow as young witches and wizards across Britain descend on London's King's Cross station for another year at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. Recently reinstated headmaster Professor Albus Dumbledore says he is very much looking forward to the new school year, but the question on most people's minds is: What subjects will Harry Potter, the Chosen One, undertake? Professor Griselda Marchbanks, head of the Board of Wizarding Education, would not disclose young Mr. Potter's O.W.L. results, but . . .

"The nerve of them to even ask her!" cried Gran. "And besides, a brave boy like Harry Potter surely got all O's. So good-hearted and polite, too. I was very impressed with him for visiting that professor at St. Mungo's last Xmas. What a fine young man!"

Neville did not attempt to burst Gran's bubble. Instead he took two bowls out of the cupboard, filled them with billiberries, and brought them back to the table, placing one in front of her.

"What's this?"

"Billiberries. They're good against motion sickness, and seeing as we're going on the Knight Bus . . ."

Gran nodded and pointed her wand at the cupboard. "Accio sugar!"

"I don't think you'll need that," said Neville, as he tasted a berry. "No, you definitely won't. I bred them for extra sweetness."

Gran started on her bowl, too. "Mmm," she said as she chewed. Neville relished the small compliment. After a few more bites, she said, "Now, please, Neville, by all means, don't ask the Healers to take Mum and Dad on any more outings. It inconveniences them, and what does it really accomplish?"

"I wasn't planning on asking again," sighed Neville. Gran was right. What did it accomplish?

"Good. Now hurry up and finish your berries and then go change your shirt. You're covered in herb stains. I can't have you going around looking like that."

"Yes, Gran," said Neville, gobbling down his last spoonful of berries.

Neville's ears pricked up as the voice on the wireless changed from male to female.

This is Blizzie, your weather witch, at Station WIZ. Due to the escape of the dementors of Azkaban, temperatures continue at record lows for the summer season. The high today . . .

"Neville, your shirt!"

"In a minute, I'm listening to -"

"Never mind the weather. We're running late. Now go!"

"Yes, Gran," said Neville, biting down his annoyance. He went to his room.

"Now what should I do with you today?" he asked the phoscolia.

He took a new shirt out of his closet and considered the lighting from each of the windows in the house. He couldn't risk overexposure, especially on a day when he wouldn't be home. As he fastened the last of his buttons, he settled on the western window of the kitchen. The sun was weakest there. He went back to the kitchen, positioned it carefully, and was ready to go.

Diagon Alley was their first stop, and Neville was rather disappointed that he didn't get to speak to anyone he knew there. It would have been fun to step into Fred and George's shop. Perhaps he'd even see Ginny. But Gran was all business. They were going to buy his schoolbooks and go on to St. Mungo's.

"Hmmph," she said when they entered Flourish & Botts. "It seems we're not the only ones to wait to the last minute for school shopping."

Gran was quite right. The store was full of Hogwarts students. But in the entire crowd, Neville did not see one friend. He sighed and went over to the shelves marked 'N.E.W.T.-level Textbooks.'

"Hey! I think that's one of Harry Potter's roommates!" a girl said, pointing at him.

"My gosh, Harry's even got groupies now," thought Neville. He picked up his new Herbology text and flipped back to the index to see if phoscolia was in it. Just when he reached the 'P's', Gran sent another textbook floating his way.

"Advanced Transfiguration?" said Neville. "But what if - ?"

"I'll write to Minerva about getting you in," said Gran.

Neville knew there was no sense in arguing with her, but he did make a point of finding out whether the book was exchangeable while she was busy looking over the magazines. He rejoined her outside of the store.

"You bought The Quibbler?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course. They printed Harry Potter's interview last spring."

Neville shook his head. Even Gran was becoming a groupie.

Gran summoned the Knight Bus, and just as they were boarding, Neville finally saw someone he knew - Luna, of all people. It was an odd coincidence, considering Gran had just bought The Quibbler. Neville took a look at the man with Luna who had to have been her father. He looked like a perfectly ordinary person, blonde with glasses, no weird vegetable ornaments. But the headlines on The Quibbler told just how weird he was. THREE TON WARBLESNITTER BEACHED IN ARUBA, VAMPIRES INVADE ST. MUNGO'S BLOOD BANK.

Neville sighed. Weird as Luna and her father were, he supposed he'd share his compartment with her on the way to school. He didn't think he'd be so lucky as to end up with Ginny, and besides, he'd sort of missed Luna that summer.

Without any special excursions to the greenhouse, Neville's last holiday visit with his parents was as depressing as usual. He and Gran sat around for a few hours while Mum and Dad stared at them vacantly. The only thing that excited Mum was The Quibbler. Gran, who'd quickly realized the magazine was rubbish, gave it to Mum to tear and fold to her heart's content.

Because it was his last day at home, Gran insisted that they visit Uncle Algie, too, so they did not get home until dark. Neville rushed inside to check on the phoscolia. If it had turned bluish in the moonlight . . .

"Oh!" he cried. The leaves were not blue, nor were they orange-red. They were a pale, dull yellow.

"What's the matter, Neville?" Gran asked. "I think it's very pretty."

Neville looked at the plant. It did have a certain delicate beauty, but it wasn't what he wanted.

"I've been an idiot," he thought. "If Mr. Klover didn't get it right on the first try, why did I think I would?"

He considered giving the plant to Gran. She liked it, and he wasn't permitted to bring it to school. But after all the time and emotion he'd invested in it, he couldn't just let it go. Perhaps he'd recoup next summer.

"I'll be leaving this one here, Gran. Will you water it for me?"

"Certainly, boy. You know I do my best with your garden."

"Yes, you do, Gran. Thanks."

To spare Gran another ride on the Knight Bus, Neville went to King's Cross station alone. Much like at Flourish & Botts, he saw loads of people, but no close friends.

"I'm in sixth year," he thought. "Why do they still ignore me?"

"Hello, Neville," said a familiar voice behind him.

He swung around. "Luna, hi! How was your summer?"

"Very nice, thank you. How was yours?"

"Oh, it was fine. I got a lot of gardening done."

"Yes, I suppose you must have. You've lost weight, you know."

Neville looked down at himself. He had lost weight. For a moment, he felt a surge in confidence. And then, looking back up Ginny's red hair caught his eye. Mesmerized, he forgot everything else around him and watched until she vanished into a compartment. After that, he noticed Harry.

"Hi, Harry!" he called.

Harry seemed genuinely happy to see him and Luna. Until then, he was surrounded by groupies. The three of them found a compartment together, which was sort of a strange experience for Neville. He'd been completely ignored only a minute before, but once he was with Harry, people began looking his way. Harry was nice enough to say it was because he and Luna had taken part in the Ministry battle also, but Neville knew better. Even still, the moment when Harry told his groupies that he preferred his and Luna's company over theirs was one Neville was sure he'd remember for the rest of his life.

It was great being back amongst friends! Except for one awkward moment when Luna lapsed into looniness, and the disappointing news that Harry had no plans to keep up the D.A., Neville had a great time. The talked about O.W.L.s and Quidditch and even a bit about their adventure at the Ministry. Ron and Hermione joined them later, but it was all interrupted by a note from a new teacher named Slughorn. He and Harry were invited to join him for lunch.

"What does he want me for?" Neville asked. If Harry knew, he wouldn't say.

But Neville found out all too soon what Professor Slughorn wanted. He wanted to humiliate him in front of a roomful of people, most of whom he barely knew.

"So you're Neville Longbottom, son of the decorated ex-Aurors. Ah, how well I remember the tragedy!" And he told the whole story of his parents, how he had known them in their school days. Dad, Head Boy, Mum, who gave up the leisurely life of a society witch to fight alongside Dad in the war. He talked about what the Death Eaters had done to them, and where they ended up. It was the longest ten minutes of Neville's life.

"How are they these days?" asked Slughorn at the end of his recital. "Have they shown any improvement over the years?"

Neville didn't see how it was any of his business. If Slughorn was such a good friend of his parents, why hadn't he visited them in all these years? Dumbledore sometimes did. But in spite of his resentment, he politely answered, "No sir."

Slughorn moved on to Harry, wheedling him to talk about the prophecy, though Harry was very obviously unwilling. Neville understood just how he felt, and said, "We never heard a prophecy."

"That's right," said Ginny, backing him up, but then she let slip that that they'd been in the Ministry, too, which was a mistake. Slughorn began pestering them for details, just as he'd done to Harry. Neville had no intention of obliging him.

Slughorn got the point after a while, and then began to tell them long, boastful stories about his club of favorite students, all of whom had gone on to fame and fortune. It seemed to take hours, and Neville was glad when it was over. He was even gladder not to be favored with an invitation to return. Harry and Ginny went their separate ways, and he went back to his compartment with Luna.

"Trevor behaved very well while you were gone," she told him. "It was a very long time."

"Yeah, that new teacher sure likes the sound of his own voice." He sank down into the seat opposite her and told her all about the Slug Club. "Everyone there was related to someone famous. Except Ginny. She got there for casting the Bat Bogey Hex on Zacharias Smith." Neville chuckled.

"She does that spell very well, but it doesn't sound like a nice thing for her to have done."

"I suppose," said Neville, a little ashamed for having laughed.

Neville shook his head and sat down opposite her. "Let's put it this way. Now that I know he's teaching Defense, I want the D.A. back even more."

"I've got my galleon," said Luna, holding up her wrist. She'd attached it to a ribbon as a sort of homemade bracelet.

Neville grinned and reached into his pocket. "Me, too. But we might have a job convincing Harry. Now that he's been made Quidditch captain, he'll be pretty busy."

"That's true, I suppose, but we could practice by ourselves."

Neville considered it. Practicing Defense with Luna wasn't exactly at the top of his list of favorite things to do. "It's an idea," he said noncommittally.

"Yes, it is," said Luna. Then in her usual, unpredictable way, she changed the subject. "How are your parents? Has there been any improvement?"

It was funny. When Slughorn had asked, it irked him. But he didn't mind answering Luna.

"They're no better. I tried reaching them, actually, or at least I tried with Mum. I had her brought to the greenhouse, which is a big deal for a closed ward patient, but it didn't go too well."

"Perhaps you're mistaken."

"I don't think so."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah," said Neville, for lack of anything better to say. "So how was your summer? Did you go to Sweden in the end?"

"Sweden?" asked Luna, as though she were confused. "Oh, yes. Daddy and I were kept very busy on the Snorkack trail."

Neville was sorry he'd asked. He liked Luna much better when she talked like a normal person. He suggested their old stand-by of Exploding Snap. It kept them pleasantly occupied until the prefects came banging on their door. "Robes on! Collect your things! We're almost there!"

Luna helped him clean up the game, but otherwise, she wasn't one to rush. While he was scrambling to settle Trevor comfortably amidst his things, Luna stood staring at the window.

"Look, Neville, there's the castle! Isn't it beautiful?"

Neville tipped his head out the window. The castle was surrounded by mist and lit up by moonlight. "It really is," he agreed.

They found a place together on the thestral-drawn carriages, separating into their Houses at the Great Hall.

"Someday," she told him as they were parting, "I'm going to teach you to play Rack 'n Rune."