Seven Deadly

"If you please and pamper your stomach, you will hurl yourself over the precipice of bodily impurity, into the fire of wrath and fury, you will coarsen and darken your mind, and in this way you will ruin your powers of attention and self-control, your sobriety and vigilance."
- St. Ignatius Brianchaninov

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Chapter 1 - Ynottulg

Neville Longbottom's stomach hurt. With the curtains drawn around his bed, he examined the wrappers presently covering its surface. Shame filled him as he observed that he could no longer see his comforter in a great deal of places. How many Chocolate Frogs had he eaten? Jelly Slugs were swallowed whole. How many thousands of Bernie Botts Beans - even the vomit-flavoured ones - had he sampled?

This was nearly the entire care package his Gran had sent along with the things he'd forgotten. This was supposed to last him for at least a month. This was supposed to be shared with his friends. And he'd practically finished it in one go.

Wiping the back of his hand over his chocolate-smeared and tear-streaked face, he read her note once again:

Dear Neville,

May Merlin be my witness, I believe you would forget your head if it wasn't firmly attached to your neck! I've sent along your bear, your extra blanket and the framed photograph of your parents from your bedside table. Also, I have included a new cauldron and several pairs of socks. How could you go to school with only one extra pair of socks? Well, if you ever did want to get rid of your roommates quickly, I suppose wearing the same pair of socks from now until the Christmas holidays would work fairly well. I did not, however, include your collection of The Adventures of Martin the Mad Muggle because those terrible comic books rot your mind and you certainly have enough distractions simply worrying about your schoolwork.

I happened along a sweets shoppe in my daily errands yesterday and thought of you and your friends. I thought you might like to have something to share with your new classmates. This supply should suffice for quite awhile! I love you and want you to know I am very proud of you. I know your parents would be as well. Stay out of trouble!

Love from,
Gran

Looking sadly from the note to the now near-empty box of treats, Neville sighed. He never wanted to disappoint his grandmother, but he really hated it at Hogwarts. He also missed Gran desperately. Neville couldn't remember ever spending so much time away from her. His Gran was strict, yes, but she also loved him completely, no matter what he did. Here? Neville was a disaster.

His first Potions class was a nightmare - who melts a cauldron on the very first day? And Professor Snape. All those black robes flapping, lips curled into a disgusted sneer. On the day of their second class, he stood right behind Neville, obviously waiting for another mess up. Snape seemed on the verge of giddiness, like he was just waiting and hoping to see Neville blow up something else. Neville swore he could feel Snape breathing on the back of his neck. He gave an involuntary shudder.

It wasn't just Potions, either, though that was by far the worst. In Charms, when just practising the swish-and-flick the way Professor Flitwick showed them, he'd accidentally set his own hair on fire. In Transfiguration, after days of effort, his match finally turned into something resembling a needle. Then, that needle somehow ended up flying into Professor McGonagall's arm, when she came over to examine his work. Neville hadn't known a mouth could get that thin or that straight, which was amazing considering how long he'd lived with his Gran. Herbology was the only class in which he felt comfortable. It reminded him of working in his grandmother's gardens at home.

Neville had to admit that the other children were mostly nice. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were already best friends, of course, but they still tried to include him, such as when they played Exploding Snap. And as for Harry himself, Neville never dreamed a living legend could be so polite and thoughtful. Hermione Granger, for her part, spent half of Potions brewing perfect solutions and the other half-muttering instructions to Neville out of the corner of her mouth. Seamus and Dean were friendliest to him. They helped him muddle through most of his homework and always made sure he was accompanied at meals and awake and out of bed in time for class. The Gryffindors were wonderful, even though he didn't really feel like he belonged with them.

Brave Gryffindors don't hide on their beds, stuffing themselves silly, and crying over some teasing and the prospect of getting on a broom, after all.

Neville flopped down on his back, scattering the wrappers in a number of directions. He stared at the inside of the bed's canopy and choked back a sob, desperately hoping none of his roommates were just about to enter the room. Neville might have cast a Silencing Charm, had he known the incantation. Even if he had known it, though, what would it have mattered? He probably would just set his bed on fire. As if sensing his owner's distress, Trevor hopped onto Neville's forehead and croaked dolefully.

Removing his pet from his brow, he whispered, "Well, at least you're not brave or smart or famous. You're just my toad."

In response, Trevor croaked again.

Neville returned to his melancholy reflection. Not all the children were kind, though. The Slytherins, simply put, gave Neville the heebie-jeebies. In particular, Draco Malfoy was not very nice. Today, for instance, as Neville was trying to juggle his books, his toad and his wand and failing miserably, he suddenly found he and his books sprawled out all over the corridor. When he looked up, Malfoy stood with his foot still outstretched, smirk firmly plastered on his pale face. Behind him, his two goons, Crabbe and Goyle, shook with silent laughter.

"Well," announced Malfoy loudly. "That's as close as Longbottom will ever get to flying. See you in class tomorrow, Fatbottom!" He waved merrily and walked off, oversized cronies flanking each of his sides.

That was the breaking point for Neville. Hastily collecting his things, he tore off to Gryffindor Tower, hot tears threatening to spill over his cheeks at any moment. When he'd reached the safety of his room, he ripped open Gran's package and opened Chocolate Frog after Chocolate Frog, savagely biting their heads off before they had a chance to jump away. Then he started on the slugs, swallowing them whole so he could feel them wriggle on their path to his stomach. The Bernie Botts Beans were the last. Neville felt that he was almost seeking out the nasty flavours just to prove he was brave enough to eat them.

Staring at the jumble of wrappers now, though, he didn't feel very brave or even very angry. His stomach just ached terribly, his head felt stuffed up from all the crying he'd done and the wrappers overwhelmingly reminded him of the Droobles Best Blowing Gum wrapper his mum, as usual, had pressed into his hand during his last visit to St. Mungo's. Thinking of his mum just made his stomach tie itself into a knot on top of its already-present ache.

He read the note again. "...I love you and want you to know I am very proud of you. I know your parents would be as well. Stay out of trouble!"

Neville sighed. Malfoy was right about the flying. He'd told the others that his grandmother was so strict that he wasn't permitted on a broom. This much was true. However, he failed to mention the reason Gran was so strict when it came to flying. Neville had been on a broom before, but only once and during that one time, nothing but disaster befell him.

Great Uncle Algie had been thrilled beyond measure after dropping Neville out a second-story window. A funny thing to say, to be sure, but the action finally proved Neville was no Squib. In fact, his uncle was so excited that he ran out to buy Neville his first broom, a beautiful, mahogany Cleansweep Six. Neville remembered being both eager and nervous. As Uncle Algie always said, half the fun of being a wizard was being able to fly! And Quidditch! Neville loved watching the sport and the prospect of perhaps being able to play delighted him.

Algie took Neville to a glen specially hidden from Muggle eyes and started teaching him the basics. "All right, Neville. Put your hand over the broom and shout 'Up!'"

Neville yelled "Up!" The broom moved, but didn't jump into his hand. After several tries, however, it finally made it.

Algie smiled and, with uncharacteristic patience, encouraged Neville to mount the broom. "Slowly now, slowly," said Uncle Algie. "We don't want you shooting off into a tree, do we?" Algie chuckled.

Neville laughed in reply and slowly got on. The broom then bucked wildly, as though it hated Neville with a fiery passion. It then shot off into a tree, destroying the brand-new broom and leaving Neville hanging off a branch, suffering with a broken ankle. Gran had never permitted him to get back on a broom and after that shaky first experience, Neville had no particular inclination to defy that order.

Now he would have to get back on a broom because flying lessons started the next day. The Gryffindors would have to have that class with the Slytherins, wouldn't they? Malfoy was probably right. He'd make a mess of this, just like everything else.

Just then, there was a knock at the door, shaking Neville out of his reverie. A voice on the other side called, "All right in there, Neville?"

"Y-yes!" answered Neville. "Just give me a minute!" Dismayed at his appearance, Neville desperately licked the palm of his hand and wiped it over his cheeks in a poor attempt at cleaning himself up. He dried his face on his sheets, then hastily pushed all the wrappers to the middle of his bed, covering them with a pillow. He then shouted to the voice, "You can come in now!"

Harry tentatively entered, apprehension written all over his thin face. "You've been up here for awhile," he said with obvious concern. "Everything all right?"

Neville nodded and smiled brightly. "Just fine. I was just reading a letter from my Gran."

"Oh yeah? What did she have to say?"

"She just sent me some things I'd forgotten and also included some sweets. Would you like a Chocolate Frog?" He handed an unopened package to Harry.

Harry smiled down at it. "Thanks. Do you collect the cards like Ron?"

"No," Neville replied. "I just...I just eat the chocolate."

Harry chuckled. "Well, I can certainly understand that. I was almost never allowed to have sweets back with the Dursleys." He pulled a face, obviously thinking of his relatives. "When we were on the Hogwarts Express and I saw everything the woman with the trolley was selling, I had to buy everything. Ron and I nearly made ourselves ill on our way here."

Now it was Neville's turn to laugh. "You did?" The knot in his stomach loosened a bit. Even the great Harry Potter got stomach-aches. Well, of course he did. He was just as normal as Neville. He was as confused by the school as Neville. He was a Gryffindor like Neville. He'd lost his parents like Neville.

They really weren't all that different, Harry and Neville.

All of a sudden, Neville felt much better.

Gesturing to his half-eaten Frog, Harry asked, "Aren't you going to have one?"

Shaking his head, Neville answered, "Nah. Gran said I should share these with my friends."

Harry's whole face lit up into a grin. "Yeah," he conceded. "Sharing with your friends has its benefits."

Stomach-ache forgotten, Neville suddenly felt an unfamiliar feeling surge through his veins. He knew he could face flying, face Malfoy, and perhaps even face Potions. As he shyly returned Harry's smile, Neville thought that maybe Hogwarts wouldn't be that awful, after all.