Ah, that Neville Longbottom is a good kid, really. He’s a bit of an idiot, yeah, and he’s accident-prone, but that can be overlooked. He’s very talented in Herbology; those are his favorite lessons. He gets good marks. Well, that is he gets good marks in Herbology. He’s dreadful at Potions, though. If it weren’t for that Miss Granger, he probably would’ve poisoned himself, or at least he would’ve blown himself up, by now. Actually, he probably could’ve managed that by second year. But, like I say, he’s good at Herbology. He even got an "Outstanding" at O.W.L.

He’s a nice boy. And he’s holding up really well, I’d say, under the circumstances. Did you know that his parents were tortured into insanity by a couple of Death Eaters? They were Aurors, you know—Neville’s parents, that is, not the Death Eaters. Yeah, that Bellatrix Lestrange is one nasty piece of work. She’s one of the Death Eaters responsible for torturing Neville’s parents; they were Aurors, actually, Dark Wizard catchers. That’s what aurors are. Her former surname—Bellatrix’s—was Black, I guess. She’s a cousin of that convicted mass murderer Sirius Black. I personally don’t think he did it. Dumbledore says he didn’t, and I believe about anything Dumbledore has to say. Great man, Dumbledore.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, Neville’s essentially a good kid. And he’s pretty brave, too. I mean, that takes real courage and great strength of character to carry on when you lose a loved one. And what happened to Frank and Alice Longbottom is worse than death, I believe. I’ve been to see them at St. Mungo’s. They’re in bad shape. They hardly even resemble the pictures I’ve seen of them, back when Neville was a baby. They all looked so happy. Now Neville’s parents don’t even remember who he is. It’s quite heart wrenching. Those visits. Neville’s mom—Alice, of course, not Frank—gives him gum wrappers. Augusta, that’s Neville’s grandmother—she raised him—she’s a bit overbearing, and Neville is scared of her; anyway, Augusta tells Neville to just throw the wrappers in the bin, but he keeps them. I think they’re special to him, because they’re all she can give him. It’s his only connection to his mother. Such a pity.

After Voldemort—I really don’t see the point of all that "You Know Who" nonsense—fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself—Dumbledore may have said that once, I believe. Great man, Dumbledore. Anyway, after Voldemort went missing, a few of his followers—the "Death Eaters," they called themselves—got pretty desperate to find their master, and for some reason, they tortured Frank and Alice, Neville’s parents, for information. Apparently they went overboard, the Death Eaters. They didn’t find what they were looking for, and Frank and Alice were ruined. Poor Neville. Augusta, that’s Neville’s grandmother who raised him, her heart’s surely in the right place, but she’s not really one to display affection, even for her grandson, whom she loves dearly. Yeah, Neville’s a bit scared of her, actually. She’s got what you might call a strong personality. But she loves her grandson and just wants him to do his best, though it’s doubtful he’ll ever measure up to his grandmother’s standards. She’s disappointed that he doesn’t seem to have any of his parents’ flair.

Ah, well, Neville’s a good kid. I’ve been with him for about a year now. His great-uncle Algie gave me to him as a birthday gift before Neville started his fifth year at Hogwarts. On the Hogwarts Express—you know, the school train—Neville was riding in a compartment with Harry Potter, you know, THE Harry Potter, and Luna Lovegood, some kids call her "Loony Lovegood," actually, and it’s not all that hard to see why—she’s weird, oh, and the youngest of the Weasley children—nice family, the Weasleys—Ginny. Ginevra, I believe, would be her first name. Ginny’s just a nickname. You know how that goes—youngsters these days! The nicknames they come up with! When I was young, I fancied the name "Mimby," actually. It’s much easier to say than Mimbulus Mimbletonia. Easier to spell, too, now that I think on it.

Anyway, Neville wanted to demonstrate my defense mechanism—and let me tell you it’s a cool one—so he pricked me with a quill, and Stinksap shot out all over the compartment, covering everybody. Then Cho Chang, this Ravenclaw girl Harry Potter likes, she came in to say hello, and the Stinksap thing got to her, I think. She didn’t stick around long. I felt a little bad about it, but what’s to be done, you know? I don’t think any of the other kids were too impressed, but Neville sure was.

He really likes me. He kept me right by his bed, Neville did, all year in the dormitory he shares with Harry, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, and another of the Weasleys, Ron. Pretty good boys, the lot of them. But Harry and Ron were always off doing things they shouldn’t. And Ron was even a school prefect. But last year wasn’t a good one for any of the students—or the teacher for that matter, I reckon. That Dolores Umbridge from the Ministry of Magic was in there running things, and she was just awful. Everyone thought so. Voldemort—oh, for Pete’s sake, don’t flinch…it’s only a name—was back, but the Ministry of Magic didn’t want to admit it. They were all in an uproar about Dumbledore. Fudge—Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic—thought that Dumbledore wanted to take his job. I say that’s a load of phooey. I say that if Dumbledore tells you something is the truth, then you’d better believe it’s true.

Yeah, a lot happened last year, and it was O.W.L. year for Neville, and he was involved in all the happenings at the Ministry there in June. They say Sirius Black was killed, and he was someone close to Harry Potter. I feel really bad for the kid: first his parents, now this Sirius fellow. That boy’s had it rough, like Neville. Oh, and Cedric Diggory before that, too. Harry was with him when he was killed. How I’d like to steer clear of all the unpleasantness, but it’s all around us.

Wow, it’s been great to talk to you. The life of a mimbulus mimbletonia is surprisingly dull. You wouldn’t believe how few people there are in the world—Wizarding or otherwise—who are interested in what I’ve got to say. There’s Neville, for one…and—er—you, I guess. And, well, thank you so much. I’ve certainly enjoyed our chat. I hope you have. It’s not every day I get to sit down with someone and have a conversation like this. Yeah, my life is pretty boring, and…