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Author: BabyRuth Story: Merlin's Beard! Rating: Everyone Setting: Pre-HBP Status: Completed Reviews: 5 Words: 7,376
A/N: I am writing this story strictly for pleasure; all characters are blatantly borrowed from the wonderful world created by JK Rowling and no profit is being made. Sigh... Also thanks to Pippin without whom this story would not be what it is. We all know what happened to Neville's wand during the battle at the Ministry of Magic... Chapter 4 - Curiouser and Curiouser "Good morning, Gran," yawned Neville Longbottom as he stumbled into the sunny dining room. Two weeks at home had quickly broken his habit of rising early at Hogwarts. "Good morning, Neville," his grandmother replied. She was dressed for the day and seated at the table, sipping from a bone china cup of tea. Sunshine spilled through floor-to-ceiling windows of leaded glass, sparkling clean and unhindered by any window dressings. A highly polished mahogany table and chairs were centered under a Baccarat crystal chandelier. On the matching mahogany sideboard were chafing dishes still steaming from leftover breakfast goodies and a sterling silver tea service. A china tea-pot sat in front of his grandmother, covered by a dark blue tea cozy. Neville shuffled to the sideboard and poured himself a cup of tea. He knew better than to select one of his gran's best teacups, and chose instead the sturdy mug left there by Nod, the Longbottom's faithful old house-elf. Ignoring the food for now, he flopped down in a chair across from his grandmother and propped his chin on his hand. "Feeling all right, Neville dear?" asked Gran, a faint twinkle in her eye. He really is the dearest boy, she thought. Absentminded, yes; but dear. "I'm fine, just sluh...sluh...sleepy," he mumbled. "My Mimbulus mimbletonia bloomed last night. Had to pinch off the stamens before... they...." He didn't finish his sentence before his head dropped to his arm and he was dozing at the table. Mrs. Agatha Longbottom just let him doze at the table. Normally rather strict, she had softened somewhat over the years as Neville had grown. She had never expected to be raising another child at her age and had been unbending in her dealings with the boy at first. Since he started Hogwarts, however, she found to her surprise that she missed him when he was away, and so let him have a bit more freedom when he was home. For so long he hadn't shown any magical ability whatsoever, and then her brother Algie had dropped him out the window! She would have flayed Algie alive if Neville hadn't started bouncing. Agatha remembered being so happy Neville wasn't a Squib that she had cried. Then the whole family celebrated when Neville received his Hogwarts letter. No, Agatha amended. Not the whole family. Neville's parents, Frank and Alice, were permanent residents of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, victims of prolonged torture inflicted by Bellatrix and Rudolphus Lestrange. Her blood chilled at the memory and she forcibly turned her thoughts back to Neville. Agatha had to admit she worried about Neville when he was at school. He really did not have his father's magical abilities and, although he never said so, she knew the other students teased him about the lack. She was glad and a bit puzzled that Neville had been Sorted into Gryffindor, with no less than Harry Potter as a roommate. And that nice Ron Weasley she had met at St. Mungo's at Christmas. From what Neville had told her, all the Gryffindors in his year had become close-knit and looked out for each other. The arrival of the morning post interrupted Agatha's musings. A large barn owl dropped the morning edition of the Daily Prophet at her place and she put several coins in its pouch. After initially canceling her subscription, she had reconsidered in order to know what was being reported. As she unfolded the paper, a snowy owl Agatha had never seen before flew into the room. Just as she was reaching for the letter attached to the owl's leg, it hopped away toward Neville, still snoozing on his arm. "Neville," Agatha called. "Neville, wake up. You've an owl." Neville grunted and lifted his head. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he recognized the white owl at once. "Hedwig!" he exclaimed. "Gran, it's Harry's owl, Hedwig. What's she doing here?" he asked, puzzled. "Why don't you look at the letter and find out?" she suggested calmly. Neville clumsily removed the letter from Hedwig's leg and gave her a bit of bacon from the dish on the sideboard. Then he began to read aloud: Neville, I wrote this letter to thank you for your support this year, especially at the Ministry of Magic a few weeks ago. You don't know what it means to me to have friends like you, especially when a lot of people and the Muggles I live with think I'm a nutter. Knowing you and your grandmother believed in me helped me a lot. Over the past couple of weeks I've been thinking a lot about the fight at the Ministry. I didn't get a chance to tell you how great you were, especially with your broken nose and Bellatrix putting you under the Cruciatus Curse. Despite all that, you stayed right with me. But I am sorry your dad's wand broke during the fight. I know it meant a lot to you to use his wand, and I wish things could have been different. You've really gotten better at Defense this past year and don't you forget it. I once said that you were worth twelve Draco Malfoys. I was wrong. You're worth about a hundred of him, especially since his dad is in Azkaban where he belongs. Take care this summer, and I'll see you in September. Harry A myriad of conflicting thoughts rushed through Agatha's mind. She had been told, of course, about Neville's involvement at the Ministry of Magic altercation, but not all of the details. She knew he had been injured and fixed up by Madame Pomfrey, but she hadn't been told about Bellatrix or the Cruciatus. Now her revived feelings of horror at what the children had been through warred with her pride in her grandson. Having difficulty sorting her feelings, she snatched at the one thing she was able to focus on. "Neville, what's this about your wand?" his gran asked. Neville lifted his white face and looked worriedly at her. "Uh... I didn't want to tell you," he began. "Why?" "Well, I know you don't think I'm as good as my dad and that his wand was supposed to help me with my magic. I didn't want to disappoint you," he said, not looking at her. Agatha just sat there looking at him. What had she done? Did Neville believe the wand was more important to her than Neville himself? She hid her face behind her cup as she sipped at her cold tea. Neville had faced Bellatrix. He had suffered under the same curse that crippled his parents' minds and had survived. Harry Potter thought he was brave, and even the Sorting Hat must have seen potential as it put Neville in Gryffindor House. Maybe there was more to her grandson than she had previously acknowledged, and she regretted ever thinking otherwise. She put her cup down with a little clink. Neville looked up with a look of anxiety on his face. "Gran?" he whispered. "Get dressed, Neville. We're going out." "Why?" "It's time you had your own wand. Maybe you'll do better with it than with your father's. Especially if you continue your association with Harry Potter and that Defense Association you were in last year." "Gran? Why aren't you mad at me?" Agatha looked at her grandson, tears shimmering in her eyes. He had so little self-esteem. He should be proud that Harry thought so well of him, that he had survived a battle with Death Eaters, and yet he was afraid she'd be angry that his father's wand was broken. She vowed to make it up to him. She got up and walked around the table, stroking his head and cupping his chin. "Never you mind. Just get dressed. We're going to Diagon Alley." To be continued...
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